supplied in the shape of a tax. It was the hateful practice of
Rome to extract the means of living from her colonies, so as to spare
her own laborers. To this, hard as it was, the Sicilians were well used.
They knew the amount required of them by law, and were glad enough when
they could be quit in payment of the dues which the law required; but
they were seldom blessed by such moderation on the part of their rulers.
To what extent this special tax could be stretched we shall see when we
come to the details of the trial of Verres. It is no doubt only from
Cicero's own words that we learn that, though he sent to Rome plenteous
supplies, he was just to the dealer, liberal to the pawns, and
forbearing to the allies generally; and that when he took his departure
they paid him honors hitherto unheard of.[95] But I think we may take it
for granted that this statement is true; firstly, because it has never
been contradicted; and then from the fact that the Sicilians all came to
him in the day of their distress.

As to the little story to which I have alluded, it has been told so
often since Cicero told it himself, that I am almost ashamed to repeat
it. It is, however, too emblematic of the man, gives us too close an
insight both into his determination to do his duty and to his
pride--conceit, if you will--at having done it, to be omitted. In his
speech for Plancius[96] he tells us that by chance, coming direct from
Sicily after his Quaestorship, he found himself at Puteoli just at the
season when the fashion from Rome betook itself to that delightful
resort. He was full of what he had done--how he had supplied Rome with
corn, but had done so without injury to the Sicilians, how honestly he
had dealt with the merchants, and had in truth won golden opinions on
all sides--so much so that he thought that when he reached the city the
citizens in a mob would be ready to receive him. Then at Puteoli he met
two acquaintances. "Ah," says one to him, "when did you leave Rome? What
news have you brought?" Cicero, drawing his head up, as we can see him,
replied that he had just returned from his province. "Of course, just
back from Africa," said the other. "Not so," said Cicero, bridling in
anger--"stomachans fastidiose," as he describes it himself--"but from
Sicily." Then the other lounger, a fellow who pretended to know
everything, put in his word. "Do you not know that our Cicero has been
Quaestor at Syracuse?" The reader will remember