by Cicero
[8] These regulations, then, were introduced for Sicily, and the result was that, even at the time when the whole of Italy was consumed by the Social War, the not very energetic or valiant Gaius Norbanus* was able to relax. Sicily could perfectly easily protect itself against any internal outbreak. The Roman businessmen there have the closest links imaginable with the Sicilians, sharing the same way of life, interests, concerns, and feelings. The Sicilians themselves have the sort of lives which depend on there being a state of peace, and they are so devoted to the empire of the Roman people that they do not in the least wish to see it made smaller or changed. Moreover, the danger of a slave war has been guarded against by the governors’ regulations and also by the strictness of individual slave-owners. So for all these reasons, there is no home-grown trouble which can possibly come from within the province itself.
[9] Well then, are no slave risings, no conspiracies said to have taken place in Sicily during Verres’ governorship? Certainly nothing that came to the notice of the senate and people of Rome, nothing that Verres sent an official letter to Rome about. And yet I have a suspicion that in some places in Sicily the slaves did indeed begin to revolt. I know this not so much from direct evidence as from what Verres himself did, and from his decrees. And please note the lack of malice in what I am about to say: I am actually going to bring forward and narrate matters which he himself would like to be aired,* and of which you have not so far been informed.
[10] In the district of Triocala, a place which at an earlier date* was held by runaway slaves, the slaves of a Sicilian called Leonidas were suspected of plotting a rising. This was reported to Verres. On his order the men who had been named were immediately and quite properly arrested and taken to Lilybaeum. Their owner was summoned to appear in court, and they were tried and convicted. So what happened next? What do you suppose? You will be expecting to hear, perhaps, of some act of theft or looting.* Don’t expect the story to be the same every time. When there is a threat of war, how can there be any opportunity for stealing? Even if the situation had offered any prospect of this, the chance had been missed. Verres could have taken some money from Leonidas when he summoned him to appear.* There was some room for bargaining (no novelty in that) to prevent the case coming to court; or if it had already gone to court, he could have arranged their acquittal. But seeing the slaves had actually been convicted, how could there possibly be any profit? They would have to be led off for punishment: that was unavoidable. Their conviction had been witnessed by the members of the council, it had been witnessed by the public records, it had been witnessed by the fine citizens of Lilybaeum, it had been witnessed by the very large and highly respected community of Roman citizens there. There was nothing for it; they must be led off. Accordingly they were led off and tied to the post.* [11] Even now, gentlemen, you seem to be looking to me to find out what happened, as you are well aware that Verres never did anything without some gain to himself, some plunder. But what could be done in this type of situation? Choose whatever heinous crime you fancy; I shall still surprise each one of you. These men, who had been convicted of the crime of conspiracy, who had been handed over for execution, who had been tied to the post, suddenly, in front of many thousands of onlookers, were set free and returned to their owner from Triocala.
What can you say in answer to this, you lunatic, except to answer a question which I am not going to put to you (a question which, in so scandalous a situation, it would not be proper to ask if there were any doubt—and in this case there is none): what you got out of this, how much it was, and how you obtained it? But I will save you from having to explain all this and free you from your anxiety about this. After all, I hardly need be afraid of the possibility of anyone accepting that you undertook for no payment the sort of crime which no one except yourself could ever be induced to undertake for any payment! I say not a word about your methods of thieving and plundering: the topic I am now covering is this great reputation you enjoy as a general.
[12] So what do you say, you fine guardian and defender of the province? You discovered that those slaves wanted to take up arms and start a war in Sicily, and you passed judgement in accordance with the verdict of your council. Then, when they had been handed over for punishment in the traditional fashion, did you dare to pluck them from the jaws of death and set them free—intending, no doubt, that the cross you had had set up for convicted slaves should be reserved instead for unconvicted Roman citizens? States that are on the brink of annihilation, with everything already lost, generally adopt the lethal expedient of pardoning their convicts, releasing their prisoners, recalling their exiles, and reversing their judicial decisions. When these things happen, everyone realizes that the country is heading for destruction; when such things take place, everyone concludes that there is no hope left. [13] Wherever this has happened, the effect has been to release people of the popular or the aristocratic faction* from execution or exile. But the release was never granted by the same people who passed sentence; nor did it follow on immediately after the passing of the sentence; nor did it apply in the case of people convicted of attacking the lives and property of the entire community. This action, on the other hand, is unprecedented, the sort of action which will be believed more from the character of the man who perpetrated it than from the action itself. The men set free were slaves; they were released by the same man who had passed sentence on them; he released them immediately, when their punishment was already under way; and the slaves were convicted of a crime which threatened the life-blood of all free people.
[14] What a brilliant general, to be compared no longer with the valiant Manius Aquillius, but with Paullus, Scipio, and Marius!* What foresight he displayed in his province’s hour of fear and danger! When he saw that the slaves in Sicily were restless because of the slave war in Italy, what fear he inspired in them to deter them from rising themselves! He ordered their arrest. Who would not be afraid at that? He summoned their owner to court. What could be more terrifying to a slave? He made a pronouncement of ‘guilty’—and thus, through the pain and death of a few individuals, extinguished, or so it appeared, the flame that had arisen. And then what happened? The lash, the burning torches, and those ultimate measures which serve to punish those convicted and deter the rest—torture and the cross. From all such punishments the men were set free. Who can doubt that he must have crushed the slaves’ minds with the greatest imaginable terror, when they saw the governor so obliging as to spare the lives of slaves who had been convicted of the crime of conspiracy, with the executioner himself brokering the deal?
[15] And did you not do precisely the same in the case of Aristodamus of Apollonia? And in the case of Leo of Imachara? And that rising of the slaves and sudden fear of a war, did it prompt you to a belated diligence in protecting your province, or to a new means of making dishonest profit? Eumenidas of Halicyae, a man of rank and reputation, had an agent—a slave worth a great deal of money—who at your instigation was accused of conspiracy. But you took sixty thousand sesterces from his owner, a transaction which has just been explained in the sworn evidence of Eumenidas himself. From the Roman equestrian Gaius Matrinius,* while he was away at Rome, you took six hundred thousand sesterces, because you said you had grounds for suspecting his agents and shepherds. This has been stated by Matrinius’ representative Lucius Flavius,* who paid the money over to you; it has been stated by Matrinius himself; and the same statement is made by the illustrious Gnaeus Lentulus,* the censor. He it was who, being concerned for Matrinius, sent you a letter at the beginning of the affair, and arranged for others to write as well.
[16] And can I pass over Apollonius Geminus of Panhormus, the son of Diocles? Can anything be cited that is more notorious throughout Sicily, anything more shocking, anything more blatant? When Verres arrived at Panhormus, he ordered Apollonius to be sent for and a legal summons to be issued against him; there was a large crowd of people present, including a substantial number of the Roman citizens who were resident there. P
eople immediately started saying, ‘I was surprised that a man as wealthy as Apollonius remained unharmed by our governor for so long. Verres has thought up some scheme or other and has put it into action. Certainly a rich man would never be summoned by him like this unless he had some motive.’ Everyone was waiting eagerly to discover what was going on, when Apollonius suddenly came running in, out of breath and accompanied by his young son. (Apollonius’ aged father had been bedridden for some time.)* [17] Verres then gave the name of a slave who he said was in charge of Apollonius’ sheep, and said that he had formed a conspiracy and had incited the slaves on other estates to revolt. There was in fact no such slave on Apollonius’ estate. Nevertheless, Verres gave orders that he be produced instantly. Apollonius declared that he did not own any slave whatsoever with that name. Then Verres ordered that Apollonius be dragged from the court and thrown into prison. As he was being led away, he protested that he, poor man, had done nothing wrong, that he had committed no crime, that all his money was invested, and that he currently had no ready cash. It was while he was actually making this declaration, in front of a large crowd of witnesses, so that anyone could appreciate that he was being treated with such terrible injustice precisely because he had not paid up—it was, I repeat, exactly at that moment, while he was shouting about his money, that he was cast into chains.
[18] Please observe the consistency of this governor—a governor who, on this subject, is not merely being defended as a governor of average abilities, but is being lauded as a brilliant general. At a time when people were worried about the possibility of a slave war, he inflicted on slave-owners who had not been convicted the very punishment from which he exempted slaves who had been convicted. Apollonius was an extremely rich man, who stood to lose his substantial wealth if the slaves were to start a war in Sicily, yet on the pretext of a slave war Verres put him in chains without a trial. The slaves, on the other hand, he had, on the advice of his council, found guilty of conspiring to start a war, yet without the support of his council and on his own initiative he had exempted them from all their punishments.
[19] Now, suppose Apollonius did indeed commit some crime which warranted his punishment. Am I then going to treat this matter as if Verres were committing a crime, or doing something of which we would disapprove, if he handed down a verdict that was a little too harsh? I will not be so critical as that; I will not make use of the normal practice of prosecutors whereby if someone has shown clemency, he is accused of being remiss, but if he has punished with severity, it is treated as evidence of his cruelty. I will not argue on those lines. I will accept the verdicts you have passed; I will support your decisions to any extent that you want me to. But as soon as you yourself start overturning the verdicts you have made, stop criticizing me. For I contend, as I have every right to, that a man who has pronounced himself guilty ought also to be pronounced guilty by the votes of sworn jurors.
[20] I am not going to defend Apollonius, though he is a friend of mine and someone whose hospitality I have enjoyed: I do not want to seem to be overturning your verdict. I will say nothing about his sober habits, his excellent qualities, his capacity for hard work. I will pass over the point I have already made, that his wealth was tied up in slaves, livestock, farms, and investments, and that any rising or war in Sicily would therefore have been as disastrous to him as to anyone. I will not even make the point that, supposing Apollonius were wholly guilty, as the most honourable man in a most honourable city he ought not to have been so severely punished without a trial. [21] Nor will I stir up hatred against you, not even by referring to how, when such an admirable man was lying in prison, in darkness, in squalor, and in rags, your tyrannical orders forbade his aged father and his young son from ever visiting him in his wretchedness. I will also pass over the fact that, each time you came to Panhormus during those eighteen months (for Apollonius was in prison as long as that), the senate of Panhormus, together with the magistrates and priests of the city, came to you in supplication, begging and beseeching that that poor, innocent man be finally set free from the disaster which had overtaken him. All these points I will forgo. But if I wished to pursue them, I could easily demonstrate that, by your cruelty towards others, you have long ago debarred yourself from the clemency that the jurors might otherwise show to you.
[22] All such arguments I will concede to you and refrain from using. For I can see what Hortensius’ defence will be. He will admit that neither the age of the father, nor the youth of the son, nor the tears of either of them carried more weight with Verres than the welfare and safety of his province. He will say that the state cannot be governed without strictness and intimidation. He will ask why rods of office* are carried before the governors, why axes are granted to them, why a prison has been constructed, and why so many punishments have traditionally been prescribed for criminals. When he has said all of this, so sternly and impressively, I shall then ask why Verres, after no new facts had come to light and no defence had been made, suddenly, for no apparent reason, ordered that this same Apollonius should be released from prison. And I shall venture to suggest that the grounds for suspicion on this charge are so strong that I may now leave it to the jurors themselves, without any argument on my part, to draw their own conclusions as to what type of robbery this would appear to be, how wicked, how scandalous, and how immense and boundless in its scope for gain.
[23] Now first please briefly consider the number and extent of the sufferings which Verres inflicted upon Apollonius—then weigh them up and reckon how much they are worth in terms of money. What you will find is that they were all directed at this one wealthy individual with the aim of making other people afraid of what could happen to them, and giving them examples of the dangers that they too could face. To begin with, there was the sudden allegation of a capital and hateful crime. Decide how much you think that is worth, and how many people must have paid up to avoid it. Next there was the charge made without a prosecutor, the verdict given without a court, the conviction handed down without a defence. Calculate the price of each of these injustices, and reflect that it was only Apollonius who fell victim to them—which means that there must have been an awful lot of people who escaped by paying up. Finally, there was the darkness, the chains, the prison, the punishment of being locked up, and being locked away from the sight of one’s parents and children, and from the open air and the light of day—the things which all other people freely enjoy. These are punishments which people may justifiably give their lives to escape; I do not myself think they can be reckoned up in terms of money.
[24] In the end Apollonius did indeed escape them—but by then he was a broken man. Nevertheless, his example served to teach everyone else that they must strike a deal with this avaricious criminal before they too suffered the same fate. For you cannot seriously believe that so wealthy a man was selected to face so implausible a charge for any reason other than financial gain, or that he was suddenly released from prison for any different reason, or that Verres tried and applied this method of robbery only in the case of Apollonius, and that he did not use that man’s punishment as a means of striking fear into all the rich men in Sicily.
[25] I hope, members of the jury, that Verres will remind me, while I am on the subject of his military glory, of any point that I should happen to leave out. I think I have now managed to cover all of his achievements that relate to the possibility of a slave war; at least I am certain that I have not consciously omitted anything. You have all the facts to do with his planning, his diligence, his watchfulness, and his defence and guardianship of his province. There is, it is true, more than one type of general, and my main purpose is that you should understand to which type he belongs. These days, there is a general lack of fine soldiers,* and so it is important that no one should continue to be unaware of the sort of commander we have in Verres. His is not the wisdom of Quintus Maximus, nor the speed in action of the elder Africanus, nor the exceptional intelligence of the younger one, nor the systematic disciplin
e of Paullus, nor indeed the vigour and valour of Gaius Marius.* No, as I will explain to you, Verres was a different sort of general altogether—one we should be sure to retain and cherish!
[26] First, regarding the laborious task of travelling—quite the most important aspect of soldiering, gentlemen, and in Sicily the most essential task of all—allow me to tell you how straightforward and indeed agreeable Verres, by his intelligent planning, made this for himself. To begin with, to counteract the extreme cold in winter and the violence of the storms and swollen rivers, he devised for himself the perfect expedient. He chose the city of Syracuse, whose situation, topography, and climate are said to be such that even during the most wild and stormy weather there has never been a day when the sun has not been visible at least part of the time. Here this fine general lived during the winter months, and he was so much at home there that it was not often that anyone saw him out of doors, or even standing up. The short days were taken up with eating, and the long nights with unspeakable sexual acts.