For P. Sulla (71-75)

I say nothing of the rest that there may be some end to my instances. I only ask you silently to recollect all those men who are proved to have been in this conspiracy. You will see that every one of those men was convicted by his own manner of life, before be was condemned by our suspicion. And as for Autronius himself, (since his name is the most nearly connected with the danger in which my client is, and with the accusation which is brought against him,) did not the manner in which he had spent all his early life convict him? He had always been audacious, violent profligate. We know that in defending himself in charges of adultery, he was accustomed to use not only the most infamous language, but even his fists and his feet. We know that he had been accustomed to drive men from their estates, to murder his neighbors, to plunder the temples of the allies, to disturb the courts of justice by violence and arms; in prosperity to despise every body, in adversity to fight against all good men; never to regard the interests of the republic, and not to yield even to fortune herself. Even if he were not convicted by the most irresistible evidence, still his own habits and his past life would convict him.

Come now, compare with those men the life of Publius Sulla, well known as it is to you and to all the Roman people; and place it, O judges, as it were before your eyes. Has there ever been any act or exploit of his which has seemed to any one, I will not say audacious, but even rather inconsiderate? Do I say any act? Has any word ever fallen from his lips by which any one could be offended? Yes, even in that terrible and disorderly victory of Lucius Sulla, who was found more gentle or more merciful than Publius Sulla? How many men's wives did he not save by begging them of Lucius Sulla! How many men are there of the highest rank and of the greatest accomplishments, both of our order and of the equestrian body, for whose safety he laid himself under obligations to Lucius Sulla! whom I might name, for they have no objection; indeed they are here to countenance him now, with the most grateful feelings towards him. But because that service is a greater one than one citizen ought to be able to do to another, I entreat of you to impute to the times the fact of his having such power, but to give him himself the credit due to his having exerted it in such a manner.

Why need I speak of the other virtues of his life? of his dignity? of his liberality? of his moderation in his own private affairs? of his splendour on public occasions? For, though in these points he has been crippled by fortune, yet the good foundations laid by nature are visible. What a house was his! what crowds frequented it daily! How great was the dignity of his behaviour to his friends! How great was their attachment to him! What a multitude of friends had he of every order of the people! These things which had been built up by long time and much labour, one single hour deprived him of; Publius Sulla, O judges, received a terrible and a mortal wound; but still it was an injury of such a sort as his way of life and his natural disposition might seem liable to be exposed to. He was judged to have too great a desire for honour and dignity. If no one else was supposed to have such desires in standing for the consulship, then he was judged to be more covetous than the rest. But if this desire for the consulship has existed in some other men also, then, perhaps, fortune was a little more unfavourable to him than to others.

But, after this misfortune, who ever saw Publius Sulla otherwise than grieving, dejected, and out of spirits? Who ever suspected that he was avoiding the sight of men and the light of day, out of hatred, and not rather out of shame? For though he had many temptations to frequent this city and the forum, by reason of the great attachment of his friends to him, the only consolation which remained to him in his misfortunes, still he kept out of your sight; and though he might have remained here as far as the law went he almost condemned himself to banishment.

I say nothing of the republic, to which Sulla has always been most devoted. Did he wish these friends of his, being such men as they are, so attached to him, by whom his prosperity had been formerly adorned, by whom his adversity is now comforted and relieved, to perish miserably, in order that he himself might be at liberty to pass a most miserable and infamous existence in company with Lentulus, and Catiline, and Cethegus, with no other prospect for the future but a disgraceful death? That suspicion is not consistent,—it is, I say, utterly at variance with such habits, with such modesty, with such a life as his, with the man himself. That sprang up, a perfectly unexampled sort of barbarity; it was an incredible and amazing insanity. The foulness of that unheard of