Hearing of my neighbour's loss, and filled with pity for him, through what woods and vales, over what windy and inhospitable mountains, in what damp and gloomy caverns did I not search for that lost sheep (or lost cow - lost horse - lost mule) until at last, extraordinary to relate, returning home, weary, footsore, and disappointed, I, found it (here shade eyes with hand and look startled): and where but in my own sheep cote (or cowshed - stable - barn) where it had perversely strayed during my absence!
'Sir,' I said, 'you put groves where the vales should have been and you left out "footsore" and the telling adverb "perversely".
You didn't look startled, either, at the word "found" only stupid. The judgement goes against you. Blame yourself, not Telegonius.'
Because I devoted myself to my judicial duties for so many hours every day, religious holidays not excepted; and even ran the summer and winter law-terms together, so that the dispensation of justice should be continuous and no accused person be forced to spend longer than a few days imprison - because of all this, I expected more considerate treatment from lawyers, court officials, and witnesses than I got. I made it quite plain that the non-appearance or late appearance in court of one of the principal parties in any suit would prejudice me in favour of his opponent. I tried to get through cases as quickly as possible and won (most unfairly) a reputation for sentencing prisoners without giving them a proper opportunity for defence. If a man was accused of a crime and I asked him straight out, 'Is this accusation substantially true?' and he shuffled and said: 'Let me explain, Caesar. I am not exactly guilty, but ...' I would cut him short. I would pronounce, `Fined a thousand gold pieces' or `Banished to the Island of Sardinia' or just `Death', and then turn to the beadle: 'Next case, please.' The man and his lawyer were naturally vexed that they had not been able to charm me with their extenuating circumstance pleas. There was one case in which the defendant claimed to be a Roman citizen and so appeared in a gown, but the plaintiff's lawyer objected and said that he was really a foreigner and should be wearing a cloak. It made no difference to this particular case whether or not he was a Roman citizen, so I silenced the lawyers by ordering the man to wear a cloak during all speeches for the prosecution and a gown during all speeches for the defence. The lawyers did not like me for that and told each other that I was ridiculing justice. Perhaps I was. On the whole they treated me very badly. Some mornings if I had been unable to settle as many eases as I had hoped and it was long past the time for my dinner they would make quite a disturbance when I adjourned proceedings until next day. They would call to me quite rudely to come back and not keep honest citizens waiting for justice, and would even catch me by the gown or foot as if forcibly to prevent me from leaving the court.
I did not discourage familiarity, provided that it was not offensive, and found that an easy atmosphere in court encouraged witnesses to give proper evidence. If anyone answered me back with spirit when I had expressed an ill-advised opinion I never took it ill. On one occasion - the counsel for the defence explained that his client, a man of sixty-five, had recently married. His wife was a witness in the case, and was quite a young woman. I remarked that the marriage was illegal. According to the Poppaean-Papian Law (with which I happened to be familiar) a man over sixty was not allowed to marry a woman under fifty: the legal assumption was that a man over sixty is unfit for parentage. I quoted the Greek epigram
The old man weds, for Nature's rule he scorns - `Father a weakly stock, or else wear horns'.
The lawyer considered for a few moments and then extemporized.
And that old man, yourself, is a plain fool To foist on Nature this unnatural rule. A sturdy old man fathers sturdy sons; A weakly young man fathers weakly ones.
This was so just a point and so neatly made that I forgave the poet-lawyer for calling me a plain fool, and at the next meeting of the Senate amended the Poppaean-Papian Law accordingly. The severest anger to which I ever remember having given way in court was roused by- a court official whose duty it was to summon witnesses and see that they arrived punctually. I had given a fraud case a hearing but had been forced to adjourn it for lack of evidence, the principal witness having fled too Africa to avoid being charged with complicity in the fraud. When the case-came on again I called for this witness; but he was not in court. I asked the court official whether this man had been duly subpoenaed to attend.
',Oh, yes, indeed, Caesar.'
`Then why is he not here.?
`He is unfortunately prevented from attending.!
'There is no excuse for non-attendance, except illness so serious that he cannot be carried into court without danger to his life.' 'I quite agree, Caesar. No, the witness is not ill now. He has been very ill, I understand. But that is all over.' `What was wrong with him?'
`He was mauled by a lion, I am informed, and afterwards gangrene set in.'
`It's a wonder he recovered,' I said.
He. didn't,' sniggered the fellow. 'He's dead. I think that death can stand as an excuse for non-attendance.' Everyone laughed.
I was so furious that I flung my writing-tablet at him, took away his citizenship, and banished him to Africa. `Go and hunt lions,' I shouted, 'and I hope they maul you properly, and I hope gangrene sets in.' However, six months later I pardoned him and re-instated him in his position. He made no more jokes at my expense.
It is only fair at this point to mention the severest anger that was ever directed in court against myself. A young nobleman was charged with unnatural acts against women. The real complainants were the Guild of Prostitutes, an unofficial but well-managed organization which protected its members pretty effectively from abuse by cheats or ruffians. The prostitutes could not very well bring a charge against the nobleman themselves, so they went to a man who had been done a bad turn by him and wanted revenge - prostitutes know everything and offered to give evidence if he brought the charge: a prostitute was a capable witness in a lawcourt. Before the case came on, I sent a message to my friend Calpurnia, the pretty young prostitute who had lived with me before I married Messalina and had been so tender and faithful to me in my misfortunes: I asked her to interview the women who were to give evidence and privately find out whether the nobleman had really abused them in the manner alleged, or whether they had been bribed by the person who was bringing the charge. Caipurnia sent me word a day or two later that the nobleman had really behaved in a very brutal and disgusting way, and that the women who had complained to the Guild were decent girls, one of whom was a personal friend of hers.
I tried the case, took sworn evidence (overruling the objection of the defending lawyer that prostitutes' oaths were both proverbially and actually worth nothing) and had this put in writing by the court recorder. When one girl repeated some very filthy and vulgar remark that the accused had made to her, the recorder asked, `Shall I put that down, Caesar?' and I answered, `Why not?' The young nobleman was so angry that he did just what I had done to the court official who teased me - he threw his writing-tablet at my head. But whereas I had missed my aim, his aim was true. The sharp edge-of the tablet gashed my cheek and drew blood. But all I said was, `I am glad to see, my Lord, that you still have some shame left.' I found him guilty and put a black mark against his name in the Roll, which disqualified him from becoming a candidate for public office. But he was a relative by marriage of Asiaticus, who asked me some months later to scratch out the black mark; because his young relative had lately reformed, his ways. `I'll scratch it out, to please you,' I answered, `but it will still show.' Asiaticus later repeated this remark of mine to his friends as a proof of my stupidity. He could not understand, I suppose, that a reputation was, as my mother used to say, like an earthenware plate. `The plate is cracked; the reputation is damaged by a criminal sentence: The plate is then mended with rivets, and becomes "as good as new"; the reputation is mended by an official pardon. A mended plate or a mended reputation is better than a cracked plate or a damaged reputation. But a plate that has never been cracked and a reputation that has never been damaged, are better still.'