In the renowned cause against Verres, there can be no doubt that the orator displayed the whole resources of his vast talents. Every circumstance concurred to stimulate his exertions and excite his eloquence. It was the first time he had appeared as an accuser in a public trial--his clients were the injured people of a mighty province, rivalling in importance the imperial state--the inhabitants of Sicily surrounded the Forum, and an audience was expected from every quarter of Italy, of all that was exalted, intelligent, and refined. But, chiefly, he had a subject, which, from the glaring guilt of the accused, and the nature of his crimes, was so copious, interesting, and various, so abundant in those topics which an orator would select to afford full scope for the exercise of his powers, that it was hardly possible to labour tamely or listlessly in so rich a mine of eloquence. Such a wonderful assemblage of circumstances never yet prepared the course for the triumphs of oratory; so great an opportunity for the exhibition of forensic art will, in all probability, never again occur. Suffice it to say, that the orator surpassed by his workmanship the singular beauty of his materials; and instead of being overpowered by their magnitude, derived from the vast resources which they supplied the merit of an additional excellence, in the skill and discernment of his choice.
The infinite variety of entertaining anecdotes with which the series of pleadings against Verres abounds--the works of art which are commemorated--the interesting topographical descriptions--the insight afforded into the laws and manners of the ancient Sicilians--the astonishing profusion of ironical sallies, all conspire to dazzle the imagination and rivet the attention of the reader; yet there is something in the idea that they were not actually delivered, which detracts from the effect of circumstances which would otherwise heighten our feelings. It appears to us even preposterous to read, in the commencement of the second oration, of a report having been spread that Verres was to abandon his defence, but that there he sat braving his accusers and judges with his characteristic impudence. The exclamations on his effrontery, and the adjurations of the judges, lose their force, when we cannot help recollecting that before one word of all this could be pronounced, the person against whom they were directed as present had sneaked off into voluntary exile. Whatever effect this recollection may have had on the ancients, who regarded oratory as an art, and an oration as an elaborate composition, nothing can be more grating or offensive to the taste and feelings of a modern reader, whose idea of eloquence is that of something natural, heart-felt, inartificial, and extemporaneous.