THE FOURTEEN ORATIONS OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS, CALLED PHILIPPICS.
THE FIRST PHILIPPIC.
THE ARGUMENT.
When Julius, or, as he is usually called by Cicero, Caius Caesar was slain on
the 15th of March, A.U.C. 710, B.C. 44, Marcus Antonius was his colleague in
the consulship; and he, being afraid that the conspirators might murder him
too, (and it is said that they had debated among themselves whether they
would or no,) concealed himself on that day, and fortified his house; till,
perceiving that nothing was intended against him, he ventured to appear in
public the day following. Lepidus was in the suburbs of Rome with a regular army, ready to depart
for the government of Spain, which
had been assigned to him with a part of Gaul. In the night, after Caesar's death, he occupied the
forum with his troops, and thought of making himself master of the city, but
Antonius dissuaded him from that idea, and won him over to his views by
giving his daughter in marriage to Lepidus's son, and by assisting him to
seize on the office of Pontifex Maximus, which was vacant by Caesar's death.
To the conspirators he professed friendship, sent his son among them as a
hostage of his sincerity, and so deluded them, that Brutus supped with
Lepidus, and Cassius with Antonius. By these means he got them to consent to
his passing a decree for the confirmation of all Caesar's acts, without
describing or naming them more precisely. At last, on the occasion of
Caesar's public funeral, he contrived so to inflame the populace against the
conspirators, that Brutus and Cassius had some difficulty in defending their
houses and their lives; and he gradually alarmed them so much, and worked so
cunningly on their fears, that they all quitted Rome. Cicero also left Rome, disapproving greatly of the
vacillation and want of purpose in the conspirator. On the first of June,
Antonius assembled the senate to deliberate on the affairs of the republic,
and in the interval visited all parts of Italy.
In the meantime young Octavius appeared on the stage; he has been left by
Caesar, who was his uncle, the heir to his name and estate. He returned from
Apollonia, in Macedonia, to Italy as soon as he heard of his uncle's death, and arrived
at Naples on the eighteenth of
April, where he was introduced by Hirtius and Pansa to Cicero, whom he
promised to be guided in all respects by his directions. He was now between
eighteen and nineteen years of age.
He began by the representation of public spectacles and games in honour of
Caesar's victories. In the meantime Antonius, in his progress through,
Italy, was making great use of
the decree confirming all Caesar's acts, which he interpolated and forged in
the most shameless manner. Among other things he restored Deiotarus to all
his dominions, having been bribed to do so by a hundred millions of
sesterces by the king's agents; but Deiotarus himself, as soon as he heard
of Caesar's death, seized all his dominions by force. He also seized the
public treasure which Caesar had deposited in the temple of Ops, amounting
to above four millions and a half of our money, and with this he won over
Dolabella,Dolabella had been married to Cicero's
daughter Tullia, but was divorced from her.who had seized the
consulship on the death of Caesar, and the greater part of the army.
At the end of May Cicero began to return towards Rome, in order to arrive there in time
for the meeting of the senate on the first of June; but many of his friends
dissuaded him from entering the city, and at last he determined not to
appear in the senate on that day, but to make a tour in Greece; to assist him in which, Dolabella
named him one of his lieutenants. Antonius also gave Brutus and Cassius
commissions to buy corn in Asia and
Sicily for the use of the
republic, in order to keep them out of the city.
Meantime Sextus Pompeius, who was at the head of a considerable army in
Spain, addressed letters to the
consuls proposing terms of accommodation, which after some debate, and some
important modifications, were agreed to, and he quitted Spain, and came as far as Marseilles on his road towards Rome.
Cicero having started for Greece was
forced to put back by contrary winds, and returned to Velia on the seventeenth of August,
where he had a long conference with Brutus, who soon after left Italy for his province of Macedonia, which Caesar had assigned him
before his death, though Antonius now wished to compel him to exchange it
for Crete. After this conference
Cicero returned to Rome, where he
was received with unexampled joy, immense multitudes thronging out to meet
him, and to escort him into the city. He arrived in Rome on the last day of August. The next
day the senate met, to which he was particularly summoned by Antonius, but
he excused himself as not having recovered from the fatigue of his journey.
Antonius was greatly offended, and in his speech in the senate threatened
openly to order his house to be pulled down; the real reason of Cicero's
absenting himself from the senate being, that the business of the day was to
decree some new and extraordinary honours to Caesar, and to order
supplications to him as a divinity, which Cicero was determined
not to concur in, though he knew it would he useless to oppose them.
The next day also the senate met, and Antonius absented himself; but Cicero
came down and delivered the following speech, which is the first of that
celebrated series of fourteen speeches made in opposition to Antonius and
his measures, and called Philippics from the orations of Demosthenes against
Philip, to which the Romans were in the habit of comparing them.The name was given them early. Juvenal, who wrote within
a hundred years of Cicero's time, calls them “divina Philippica”.
Before, O conscript fathers, I say those things concerning the republic which I
think myself bound to say at the present time, I will explain to you briefly the
cause of my departure from, and of my return to the city. When I hoped that the
republic was at last recalled to a proper respect for your wisdom and for your
authority, I thought that it became me to remain in a sort of sentinelship,
which was imposed upon me by my position as a senator and a man of consular
rank. Nor did I depart anywhere, nor did I ever take my eyes off from the
republic, from the day on which we were summoned to meet in the temple of
Tellus; This meeting took place on the third day after
Caesar's death. in which temple, I, as far as was in my power, laid
the foundations of peace, and renewed the ancient precedent set by the
Athenians; I even used the Greek word,
*mh\ mnhsikakei=n
which that city employed in those times in allaying discords, and gave my
vote that all recollection of the existing dissensions ought to be effaced by
everlasting oblivion.
The oration then made by Marcus Antonius was an admirable one; his disposition,
too, appeared excellent; and lastly, by his means and by his sons', peace was
ratified with the most illustrious of the citizens; and everything else was
consistent with this beginning. He invited the chief men of the state to those
deliberations which he held at his own house concerning the state of the
republic; he referred all the most important matters to this order. Nothing was
at that time found among the papers of Caius Caesar except what was already well
known to everybody; and he gave answers to every question that was asked of him
with the greatest consistency. Were any exiles
restored? He said that one was, and only one. Were any immunities granted? He
answered, None. He wished us even to adopt the proposition of Servius Sulpicius,
that most illustrious man, that no tablet purporting to contain any
decree or grant of Caesar's should be published after the Ides of March were
expired. I pass over many other things, all excellent—for I am
hastening to come to a very extraordinary act of virtue of Marcus Antonius. He
utterly abolished from the constitution of the republic the Dictatorship, which
had by this time attained to the authority of regal power. And that measure was
not even offered to us for discussion. He brought with him a decree of the
senate, ready drawn up, ordering what he chose to have done: and when it had
been read, we all submitted to his authority in the matter with the greatest
eagerness; and, by another resolution of the senate, we returned him thanks in
the most honourable and complimentary language.
A new light, as it were, seemed to be brought over us, now that not only the
kingly power which we had endured, but all fear of such power for the future,
was taken away from us; and a great pledge appeared to have been given by him to
the republic that he did wish the city to be free, when he utterly abolished out
of the republic the name of dictator, which had often been a legitimate title,
on account of our late recollection of a perpetual dictatorship. A few days afterwards the senate was delivered from
the danger of bloodshed, and a hookThe hook was to drag his
carcass along the streets to throw it into the Tiber. So Juvenal says—
“Sejanus ducitur unco
Spectandus.”
—x. 66.was fixed into
that runaway slave who had usurped the name of Caius Marius. And all these
things he did in concert with his colleague. Some other things that were done
were the acts of Dolabella alone; but if his colleague had not been absent,
would, I believe, have been done by both of them in concert.
For when enormous evil was insinuating itself into the republic, and was gaining
more strength day by day; and when the same men were erecting a tombThis refers to a pillar that was raised in the forum in
honour of Caesar, with the inscription, “To the Father of his
Country.”in the forum, who had performed that irregular
funeral; and when abandoned men, with slaves like themselves, were every day
threatening with more and more vehemence all the houses and temples of the city;
so severe was the rigour of Dolabella, not only towards the
audacious and wicked slaves, but also towards the profligate and unprincipled
freemen, and so prompt was his overthrow of that accursed pillar; that it seems
marvellous to me that the subsequent time has been so different from that one
day.
For behold, on the first of June, on which day they had given notice that we were
all to attend the senate, everything was changed. Nothing was done by the
senate, but many and important measures were transacted by the agency of the
people, though that people was both absent and disapproving. The consuls elect
said, that they did not dare to come into the senate. The liberators of their
country were absent from that city from the neck of which they had removed the
yoke of slavery; though the very consuls themselves professed to praise them in
their public harangues and in all their conversation. Those who were called
Veterans, men of whose safety this order had been most particularly careful,
were instigated not to the preservation of those things which they had, but to
cherish hopes of new booty. And as I preferred hearing of those things to seeing
them, and as I had an honorary commission as lieutenant, I went away, intending
to be present on the first of January, which appeared likely to be the first day
of assembling the senate.
I have now explained to you, O conscript fathers, my design in leaving the city.
Now I will briefly set before you; also, my intention in returning, which may
perhaps appear more unaccountable. As I had avoided Brundusium, and the ordinary route into
Greece, not without good reason, on
the first of August I arrived at Syracuse, because the passage from that city into Greece was said to be a good one. And that
city, with which I had so intimate a connection, could not, though it was very
eager to do so, detain me more than one night. I was afraid that my sudden
arrival among my friends might cause some suspicion if I remained there at all.
But after the winds had driven me, on my departure from Sicily, to Leucopetra, which is a promontory
of the Rhegian district, I went up the gulf from that point, with the view of
crossing over. And I had not advanced far before I was driven back by a foul
wind to the very place which I had just quitted. And as the night was stormy, and as I had lodged that night in the villa of
Publius Valerius, my companion and intimate friend, and as I remained all the
next day at his house waiting for a fair wind, many of the citizens
of the municipality of Rhegium came to
me. And of them there were some who had lately arrived from Rome; from them I first heard of the harangue
of Marcus Antonius, with which I was so much pleased that, after I had read it,
I began for the first time to think of returning. And not long afterwards the
edict of Brutus and Cassius is brought to me; which (perhaps because I love
those men, even more for the sake of the republic than of my own friendship for
them) appeared to me, indeed, to be full of equity. They added besides, (for it
is a very common thing for those who are desirous of bringing good news to
invent something to make the news which they bring seem more joyful,) that
parties were coming to an agreement; that the senate was to meet on the first of
August; that Antonius having discarded all evil counselors, and having given up
the provinces of Gaul, was about to
return to submission to the authority of the senate.
But on this I was inflamed with such eagerness to return, that no oars or winds
could be fast enough for me; not that I thought that I should not arrive in
time, but lest I should be later than I wished in congratulating the republic;
and I quickly arrived at Velia, where
I saw Brutus; how grieved I was, I cannot express. For it seemed to be a
discreditable thing for me myself, that I should venture to return into that
city from which Brutus was departing, and that I should be willing to live
safely in a place where he could not. But he himself was not agitated in the
same manner that I was; for, being elevated with the consciousness of his great
and glorious exploit, he had no complaints to make of what had befallen him,
though he lamented your fate exceedingly. And
it was from him that I first heard what had been the language of Lucius Piso, in
the senate of August; who, although he was but little assisted (for that I heard
from Brutus himself) by those who ought to have seconded him, still according to
the testimony of Brutus, (and what evidence can be more trustworthy?) and to the
avowal of every one whom I saw afterwards, appeared to me to have gained great
credit. I hastened hither, therefore, in order that as those who were present
had not seconded him, I might do so; not with the hope of doing any good, for I
neither hoped for that, nor did I well see how it was possible; but in order
that if anything happened to me, (and many things appeared to be
threatening me out of the regular course of nature, and even of destiny,) I
might still leave my speech on this day as a witness to the republic of my
everlasting attachment to its interests.
Since, then, O conscript fathers, I trust
that the reason of my adopting each determination appears praiseworthy to you,
before I begin to speak of the republic, I will make a brief complaint of the
injury which Marcus Antonius did me yesterday; to whom I am friendly, and I have
at all times admitted having received some services from him which make it my
duty to be so.
What reason had he then for endeavouring, with such bitter hostility, to force me
into the senate yesterday? Was I the only person who was absent? Have you not
repeatedly had thinner houses than yesterday? Or was a matter of such importance
under discussion, that it was desirable for even sick men to be brought down?
Hannibal, I suppose, was at the
gates, or there was to be a debate about peace with Pyrrhus, on which occasion
it is related that even the great Appius, old and blind as he was, was brought
down to the senate-house. There was a motion
being made about some supplications; a kind of measure when senators are not
usually wanting; for they are under the compulsion, not of pledges, but of the
influence of those men whose honour is being complimented; and the case is the
same when the motion has reference to a triumph. The consuls are so free from
anxiety at these times, that it is almost entirely free for a senator to absent
himself if he pleases. And as the general custom of our body was well known to
me, and as I was hardly recovered from the fatigue of my journey, and was vexed
with myself, I sent a man to him, out of regard for my friendship to him, to
tell him that I should not be there. But he, in the hearing of you all, declared
that he would come with masons to my house; this was said with too much passion
and very intemperately. For, for what crime is there such a heavy punishment
appointed as that, that any one should venture to say in this assembly that he,
with the assistance of a lot of common operatives, would pull down a house which
had been built at the public expense in accordance with a vote of the senate.
And who ever employed such compulsion as the threat of such an injury as that to
a senator? or what severer punishment has ever been imposed for
absence than the forfeiture of a pledge, or a fine? But if he had known what
opinion I should have delivered on the subject, he would have remitted somewhat
of the rigour of his compulsion.
Do you think, O conscript fathers, that I would have voted for the resolution
which you adopted against your own wills, of mingling funeral obsequies with
supplications? of introducing inexplicable impiety into the republic? of
decreeing supplications in honour of a dead man? I say nothing about who the man
was. Even had he been that great Lucius Brutus who himself also delivered the
republic from kingly power, and who has produced posterity nearly five hundred
years after himself of similar virtue, and equal to similar
achievements—even then I could not have been induced to join any dead
man in a religious observance paid to the immortal gods; so that a supplication
should be addressed by public authority to a man who has nowhere a sepulcher at
which funeral obsequies may be celebrated.
I, O conscript fathers, should have delivered my opinion, which I could easily
have defended against the Roman people, if any heavy misfortune had happened to
the republic, such as war, or pestilence, or famine; some of which, indeed, do
exist already, and I have my fears lest others are impending. But I pray that
the immortal gods may pardon this act, both to the Roman people, which does not
approve of it, and to this order, which voted it with great unwillingness.
What? may I not speak of the other
misfortunes of the republic?—At all events it is in my power, and it
always will be in my power, to uphold my own dignity and to despise death. Let
me have only the power to come into this house, and I will never shrink from the
danger or declaring my opinion!
And, O conscript fathers, would that I had been able to be present on the first
of August; not that I should have been able to do any good, but to prevent any
one saying that not no senator of consular rank (as was the case then) was found
worthy of that honour and worthy of the republic. And this circumstance indeed
gives me great pain, that men who have enjoyed the most honourable distinctions
which the Roman people can confer; did not second Lucius Piso, the proposer of
an excellent opinion. Is it for this that the Roman people made us consuls,
that, being placed on the loftiest and most honourable step of
dignity, we should consider the republic of no importance? Not only did no
single man of consular dignity indicate his agreement with Lucius Piso by his
voice, but they did not venture even to look as if they agreed with him.
What, in the name of all that is
horrible, is the meaning of this voluntary slavery?—Some submission
may have been unavoidable: nor do I require this from every one of the men who
deliver their opinions from the consular bench; the case of those men whose
silence I pardon is different from that of those whose expression of their
sentiments I require; and I do grieve that those men have fallen under the
suspicion of the Roman people, not only as being afraid,—which of
itself would be shameful enough,—but as having different private
causes for being wanting to their proper dignity.
Wherefore, in the first place, I both feel and acknowledge great obligations to
Lucius Piso, who considered not what he was able to effect in the republic, but
what it was his own duty to do; and, in the next place, I entreat of you, O
conscript fathers, even if you have not quite the courage to agree with my
speech and to adopt my advice, at all events to listen to me with kindness as
you have always hitherto done.
In the first place, then, I declare my
opinion that the acts of Caesar ought to be maintained: not that I approve of
them; (for who indeed can do that?) but because I think that we ought above all
things to have regard to peace and tranquillity. I wish that Antonius himself
were present, provided he had no advocates with him. But I suppose he may be
allowed to feel unwell, a privilege which he refused to allow me yesterday. He
would then explain to me, or rather to you, O conscript fathers, to what extent
he himself defended the acts of Caesar. Are all the acts of Caesar which may
exist in the bits of note-books, and memoranda, and loose papers, produced on
his single authority, and indeed not even produced, but only recited, to be
ratified? And shall the acts which he caused to be engraved on brass, in which
he declared that the edicts and laws passed by the people were valid for ever,
be considered as of no power? I think,
indeed, that there is nothing so well entitled to be called the acts of Caesar
as Caesar's laws. Suppose he gave any one a promise, is that to be ratified,
even if it were a promise that he himself was unable to perform?
As, in fact, he has failed to perform many promises made to many people. And a
great many more of those promises have been found since his death, than the
number of all the services which he conferred on and did to people during all
the years that he was alive would amount to.
But all those things I do not change, I do not meddle with. Nay, I defend all his
good acts with the greatest earnestness. Would that the money remained in the
temple of Ops! Bloodstained, indeed, it may be, but still needful at these
times, since it is not restored to those to whom it really belongs.See Philippic 2.Let
that, however, be squandered too, if it is so written in his acts. Is there anything whatever that can be called so
peculiarly the act of that man who; while clad in the robe of peace, was yet
invested with both civil and military command in the republic, as a law of his?
Ask for the acts of Gracchus, the Sempronian laws will be brought forward; ask
for those of Sulla, you will have the Cornelian laws. What more? In what acts did the third
consulship of Cnaeus Pompeius consist? Why, in his laws. And if you could ask
Caesar himself what he had done in the city and in the garb of peace, he would
reply that he had passed many excellent laws; but his memoranda he would either
alter or not produce at all; or, if he did produce them, he would not class them
among his acts. But, however, I allow even these things to pass for acts; at
some things I am content to wink; but I think it intolerable that the acts of
Caesar in the most important instances, that is to say, in his laws, are to he
annulled for their sake.
What law was ever better, more advantageous, more frequently demanded in the best
ages of the republic, than the one which forbade the praetorian provinces to be
retained more than a year, and the consular provinces more than two? If this law
be abrogated, do you think that the acts of Caesar are maintained? What? are not
all the laws of Caesar respecting judicial proceedings abrogated by the law
which had been proposed concerning the third decury? And are you the defenders
of the acts of Caesar who overturn his laws? Unless, indeed, anything which, for
the purpose of recollecting it, he entered in a notebook, is to be counted among
his acts, and defended, however unjust or useless it may he; and that which he proposed to the people in the comitia
centuriata and carried, is not to be accounted one of the acts of
Caesar. But what is that third decury? The
decury of centurions, says he. What? was not the judicature open to that order
by the Julian law, and even before that
by the Pompeius and Aurelian laws? The income of the men, says he, was exactly
defined. Certainly, not only in the case of a centurion, but in the case, too,
of a Roman knight. Therefore, men of the highest honour and of the greatest
bravery, who have acted as centurions, are and have been judges. I am not asking
about those men, says he. Whoever has acted as centurion, let him be a judge.
But if you were to propose a law, that whoever had served in the cavalry, which
is a higher post, should be a judge, you would not be able to induce any one to
approve of that; for a man's fortune and worth ought to be regarded in a judge.
I am not asking about those points, says he; I am going to add as judges, common
soldiers of the legion of Alaudae;This was the name of a
legion raised by Caesar in Gaul,
and called so, probably, from the ornament worn on their helmet.for
our friends say that that is the only measure by which they can be saved. Oh
what an insulting compliment it is to those men whom you summon to act as judges
though they never expected it! For the effect of the law is, to make those men
judges in the third decury who do not dare to judge with freedom. And in that
how great, O ye immortal gods! is the error of those men who have desired that
law. For the meaner the condition of each judge is, the greater will be the
severity of judgment with which he will seek to efface the idea of his meanness;
and he will strive rather to appear worthy of being classed in the honourable
decuries, than to have deservedly ranked in a disreputable one.
Another law was proposed, that men who had been condemned of violence and treason
may appeal to the public if they please. Is this now a law, or rather an
abrogation of all laws? For who is there at this day to whom it is an object
that that law should stand? No one is accused under those laws; there is no one
whom we think likely to be so accused. For measures which have been carried by
force of arms will certainly never be impeached in a court of justice. But the
measure is a popular one. I wish, indeed, that you were willing to promote any
popular measure; for, at present, all the citizens agree with one
mind and one voice in their view of its bearing on the safety of the republic.
What is the meaning, then, of the eagerness to pass the law which brings with it
the greatest possible infamy, and no popularity at all? For what can be more
discreditable than for a man who has committed treason against the Roman people
by acts of violence, after he has been condemned by a legal decision, to be able
to return to that very course of violence, on account of which he has been
condemned? But why do I argue any more about
this law? as if the object aimed at were to enable any one to appeal? The object
is, the inevitable consequence must be, that no one can ever be prosecuted under
those laws. For what prosecutor will be found insane enough to be willing, after
the defendant has been condemned, to expose himself to the fury of a hired mob?
or what judge will be bold enough to venture to condemn a criminal, knowing that
he will immediately be dragged before a gang of hireling operatives? It is not,
therefore, a right of appeal that is given by that law, but two most salutary
laws and modes of judicial investigation that are abolished. And what is this
but exhorting young men to be turbulent, seditious, mischievous citizens?
To what extent of mischief will it not be possible to instigate the frenzy of
the tribunes now that these two rights of impeachment for violence and for
treason are annulled? What more? Is not this
a substitution of a new law for the laws of Caesar, which enact that every man
who has been convicted of violence, and also every man who has been convicted of
treason, shall be interdicted from fire and water? And, when those men have a
right of appeal given them, are not the acts of Caesar rescinded? And those
acts, O conscript fathers, I, who never approved of them, have still thought it
advisable to maintain for the sake of concord; so that I not only did not think
that the laws which Caesar had passed ill his lifetime ought to be repealed, but
I did not approve of meddling with those even which since the death of Caesar
you have seen produced and published.
Men have been recalled from banishment by a dead man; the freedom of the city has
been conferred not only on individuals, but on entire nations and provinces by a
dead man; our revenues have been diminished by the granting of
countless exemptions by a dead man. Therefore, do we defend these measures which
have been brought from his house on the authority of a single, but, I admit, a
very excellent individual; and as for the laws which he, in your presence, read,
and declared, and passed,—in the passing of which he gloried, and on
which he believed that the safety of the republic depended, especially those
concerning provinces and concerning judicial proceedings,—can we, I
say, we who defend the acts of Caesar, think that those laws deserve to be
upset?
And yet concerning those laws which were proposed, we have, at all events, the
power of complaining; but concerning those which are actually passed we have not
even had that privilege. For they, without any proposal of them to the people,
were passed before they were framed. Men ask, what is the reason why I, or why
any one of you, O conscript fathers, should be afraid of bad laws while we have
virtuous tribunes of the people? We have men ready to interpose their veto;
ready to defend the republic with the sanctions of religion. We ought to be
strangers to fear. What do you mean by interposing the veto? says he; what are
all these sanctions of religion which you are talking about? Those, forsooth, on
which the safety of the republic depends. We are neglecting those things, and
thinking them too old-fashioned and foolish. The forum will be surrounded, every
entrance of it will be blocked up; armed men will be placed in garrison, as it
were, at many points. What
then?—whatever is accomplished by those means will be law. And you
will order, I suppose, all those regularly passed decrees to be engraved on
brazen tablets. “The consuls consulted the people in regular
form,” (Is this the way of consulting the people that we have received
from our ancestors?) “and the people voted it with due
regularity.” What people? that which was excluded from the forum?
Under what law did they do so? under that which has been wholly abrogated by
violence and arms? But I am saying all this with reference to the future;
because it is the part of a friend to point out evils which may be avoided: and
if they never ensue, that will be the best refutation of my speech. I am
speaking of laws which have been proposed; concerning which you have still full
power to decide either way. I am pointing out the defects; away with them I am
denouncing violence and arms; away with them too!
You and your colleague, O Dolabella, ought not, indeed, to be angry with me for
speaking in defence of the republic. Although I do not think that you yourself
will be; I know your willingness to listen to reason. They say that your
colleague, in this fortune of his, which he himself thinks so good, but which
would seem to me more favourable if (not to use any harsh language) he were to
imitate the example set him by the consulship of his grandfathers and of his
uncle,—they say that he has been exceedingly offended. And I see what
a formidable thing it is to have the same man angry with me and also armed;
especially at a time when men can use their swords with such impunity. But I
will propose a condition which I myself think reasonable, and which I do not
imagine Marcus Antonius will reject. If I have said anything insulting against
his way of life or against his morals, I will not object to his being my
bitterest enemy. But if I have maintained the same habits that I have already
adopted in the republic,—that is, if I have spoken my opinions
concerning the affairs of the republic with freedom,—in the first
place, I beg that he will not be angry with me for that; but, in the next place,
if I cannot obtain my first request, I beg at least that he will show his anger
only as he legitimately may show it to a fellow-citizen.
Let him employ arms, if it is necessary, as he says it is, for his own defence:
only let not those arms injure those men who have declared their honest
sentiments in the affairs of the republic. Now, what can be more reasonable than
this demand? But if, as has been said to me
by some of his intimate friends, every speech which is at all contrary to his
inclination is violently offensive, to him, even if there be no insult in it
whatever; then we will bear with the natural disposition of our friend. But
those men, at the same time, say to me, “You will not have the same
licence granted to you who are the adversary of Caesar as might be claimed by
Piso his father-in-law.”
And then they warn me of something which I must guard against; and certainly,
the excuse which sickness supplies me with, for not coming to the senate, will
not be a more valid one than that which is furnished by death.
But, in the name of the immortal gods! for while I look upon you, O Dolabella,
who are most dear to me, it is impossible for me to keep silence respecting the
error into which you are both falling; for I believe that you,
being both, men of high birth, entertaining lofty views, have been eager to
acquire, not money, as some too credulous people suspect, a thing which has at
all times been scorned by every honourable and illustrious man, nor power
procured by violence and authority such as never ought to be endured by the
Roman people, but the affection of your fellow-citizens, and glory. But glory is
praise for deeds which have been done, and the fame earned by great services to
the republic; which is approved of by the testimony borne in its favour, not
only by every virtuous man, but also by the multitude. I would tell you, O Dolabella, what the fruit of good
actions is, if I did not see that you have already learnt it by experience
beyond all other men.
What day can you recollect in your whole life, as ever having beamed on you with
a more joyful light than the one on which, having purified the forum, having
routed the throng of wicked men, having inflicted due punishment on the
ringleaders in wickedness, and having delivered the city from conflagration and
from fear of massacre, you returned to your house? What order of society, what
class of people, what rank, of nobles even was there who did not then show their
zeal in praising and congratulating you? Even I, too, because men thought that
you had been acting by my advice in those transactions, received the thanks and
congratulations of good men in your name. Remember, I pray you, O Dolabella, the
unanimity displayed on that day in the theatre, when every one, forgetful of the
causes on account of which they had been previously offended with you, showed
that in consequence of your recent service they had banished all recollection of
their former indignation. Could you, O
Dolabella, (it is with great concern that I speak,)—could you, I say,
forfeit this dignity with equanimity?
And you, O Marcus Antonius, (I address myself to you, though in your absence,) do
you not prefer that day on which the senate was assembled in the temple of
Tellus, to all those months during which some who differ greatly in opinion from
me think that you have been happy? What a noble speech was that of yours about
unanimity! From what apprehensions were the veterans, and from what anxiety was
the whole state relieved by you on that occasion! when, having laid aside your enmity against him, you on that day first consented that your
present colleague should be your colleague, forgetting that the auspices had
been announced by yourself as augur of the Roman people; and when your little
son was sent by you to the Capitol to be a hostage for peace. On what day was the senate ever more joyful than on that
day? or when was the Roman people more delighted? which had never met in greater
numbers in any assembly whatever. Then, at last, we did appear to have been
really delivered by brave men, because, as they had willed it to be, peace was
following liberty. On the next day, on the day after that, on the third day, and
on all the following days, you were on without intermission, giving every day,
as it were, some fresh present to the republic; but the greatest of all presents
was that, when you abolished the name of the dictatorship. This was in effect
branding the name of the dead Caesar with everlasting ignominy, and it was your
doing,—yours, I say. For as, on account of the wickedness of one
Marcus Manlius, by a resolution of the
Manlian family it is unlawful that any patrician should be called Manlius, so
you, on account of the hatred excited by one dictator, have utterly abolished
the name of dictator.
When you had done these mighty exploits for the safety of the republic, did you
repent of your fortune, or of the dignity and renown and glory which you had
acquired? Whence then is this sudden change? I cannot be induced to suspect that
you have been caught by the desire of acquiring money; every one may say what he
pleases, but we are not bound to believe such a thing; for I never saw anything
sordid or anything mean in you. Although a man's intimate friends do sometimes
corrupt his natural disposition, still I know your firmness; and I only wish
that as you avoid that fault, you had been able also to escape all suspicion of
it.
What I am more afraid of is lest, being ignorant of the true path to glory, you,
should think it glorious for you to have more power by yourself than all the
rest of the people put together, and lest you should prefer being feared by your
fellow-citizens to being loved by them. And if you do think so, you are ignorant
of the road to glory. For a citizen to be dear to his fellow-citizens, to
deserve well of the republic, to be praised, to be respected, to be loved, is
glorious; but to be feared, and to be an object of hatred, is odious,
detestable; and moreover, pregnant with weakness and decay.
And we see that, even in the play, the
very man who said,
“What care I though all men should hate my name,
So long as fear accompanies their hate?”
found that it was a mischievous principle to act upon.
I wish, O Antonius, that you could recollect your grandfather, of whom, however,
you have repeatedly heard me speak. Do you think that he would have been willing
to deserve even immortality, at the price of being feared in consequence of his
licentious use of arms? What he considered life, what he considered prosperity,
was the being equal to the rest of the citizens in freedom, and chief of them
all in worth. Therefore, to say no more of the prosperity of your grandfather, I
should prefer that most bitter day of his death to the domination of Lucius
Cinna, by whom he was most barbarously slain.
But why should I seek to make an impression on you by my speech? For, if the end
of Caius Caesar cannot influence you to prefer being loved to being feared, no
speech of any one will do any good or have any influence with you; and those who
think him happy are themselves miserable. No one is happy who lives on such
terms that he may be put to death not merely with impunity, but even to the
great glory of his slayer. Wherefore, change your mind, I entreat you, and look
hack upon your ancestors, and govern the republic in such a way that your
fellow-citizens may rejoice that you were born without which no one can be happy
nor illustrious.
And, indeed, you have both of you had many judgments delivered respecting you by
the Roman people, by which I am greatly concerned that you are not sufficiently
influenced. For what was the meaning of the shouts of the innumerable crowd of
citizens collected at the gladiatorial games? or of the verses made by the
people? or of the extraordinary applause at the sight of the statue of Pompeius?
and at that sight of the two tribunes of the people who are opposed to you? Are
these things a feeble indication of the incredible unanimity of the entire Roman
people? What more? Did the applause at the games of Apollo, or, I should rather
say, testimony and judgment there given by the Roman people, appear to you of
small importance? Oh! happy are those men who, though they themselves were
unable to be present on account of the violence of arms, still were present in
spirit. and had a place in the breasts and hearts of the Roman
people. Unless, perhaps, you think that it was Accius who was applauded on that
occasion, and who bore off the palm sixty years after his first appearance, and
not Brutus, who was absent from the games which he himself was exhibiting, while
at that most splendid spectacle the Roman people showed their zeal in his favour
though he was absent, and soothed their own regret for their deliverer by
uninterrupted applause and clamour.
I myself, indeed, am a man who have at all times despised that applause which is
bestowed by the vulgar crowd, but at the same time, when it is bestowed by those
of the highest, and of the middle, and of the lowest rank, and, in short, by all
ranks together, and when those men who were previously accustomed to aim at
nothing but the favour of the people keep aloof, I then think that, not mere
applause, but a deliberate verdict. If this appears to you unimportant, which is
in reality most significant, do you also despise the fact of which you have had
experience,—namely, that the life of Aulus Hirtius is so dear to the
Roman people? For it was sufficient for him to be esteemed by the Roman people
as he is; to be popular among his friends, in which respect he surpasses
everybody; to be beloved by his own kinsmen, who love him beyond measure; but in
whose case before do we ever recollect such anxiety and such fear being
manifested? Certainly in no one's.
What then, are we to do? In the name of the immortal gods, can you interpret
these facts, and see what is their purport? What do you think that those men
think of your lives, to whom the lives of those men who they hope will consult
the welfare of the republic are so dear? I have reaped, O conscript fathers, the
reward of my return, since I have said enough to bear testimony of my
consistency whatever event may befall me, and since I have been kindly and
attentively listened to by you. And if I have such opportunities frequently
without exposing both myself and you to danger, I shall avail myself of them. If
not, as far as I can I shall reserve myself not for myself, but rather for the
republic. I have lived long enough for the course of human life, or for my own
glory. If any additional life is granted to me, it shall be bestowed not so much
on myself as on you and on the republic.
THE SECOND SPEECH OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. CALLED ALSO THE SECOND PHILIPPIC.
THE ARGUMENT.
This second speech was not actually spoken at all. Antonius was greatly
enraged at the first speech, and summoned another meeting of the senate for
the nineteenth day of the month, giving Cicero especial notice to be
present, and he employed the interval in preparing an invective against
Cicero, and a reply to the first Philippic. The senate met in the temple of
Concord, but Cicero himself was persuaded not to attend by his friends, who
were afraid of Antonius proceeding to actual violence against him, (and
indeed he brought a strong guard of armed men with him to the senate.) He
spoke with the greatest fury against Cicero, charging him with having been
the principal author and contriver of Caesar's murder, hoping by this to
inflame the soldiers, whom he had posted within hearing of his harangue.
Soon after this, Cicero removed to a villa near Naples for greater safety, and here he composed this second
Philippic, which he did not publish immediately, but contented himself at
first with sending a copy to Brutus
and Cassius, who were much pleased with it.
To what destiny of mine, O conscript fathers, shall I say that it is owing, that
none for the last twenty years has been an enemy to the republic without at the
same time declaring war against me? Nor is there any necessity for naming any
particular person; you yourselves recollect instances in proof of my statement.
They have all hitherto suffered severer punishments than I could have wished for
them; but I marvel that you, O Antonius, do not fear the end of these men whose
conduct you are imitating. And in others I was less surprised at this. None of
those men of former times was a voluntary enemy to me; all of them were attacked
by me for the sake of the republic. But you, who have never been injured by me,
not even by a word, in order to appear more audacious than Catiline, more
frantic than Clodius, have of your own accord attacked me with
abuse, and have considered that your alienation from me would be a
recommendation of you to impious citizens.
What am I to think? that I have been despised?
I see nothing either in my life, or in my influence in the city, or in my
exploits, or even in the moderate abilities with which I am endowed, which
Antonius can despise. Did he think that it was easiest to disparage me in the
senate? a body which has borne its testimony in favour of many most illustrious
Citizens that they governed the republic well, but in favour of me alone, of all
men, that I preserved it. Or did he wish to contend with me in a rivalry of
eloquence? This, indeed, is an act of generosity; for what could be a more
fertile or richer subject for me, than to have to speak in defence of myself and
against Antonius? This, in fact, is the truth. He thought it impossible to prove
to the satisfaction of those men who resembled himself, that he was an enemy to
his country, if he was not also an enemy to me. And before I make him any reply on the other topics of his speech, I will say
a few words respecting the friendship formerly subsisting between us, which he
has accused me of violating,—for that I consider a most serious
charge.
He has complained that I pleaded once against his interest. Was I not to plead
against one with whom I was quite unconnected, in behalf of an intimate
acquaintance, of a dear friend? Was I not to plead against interest acquired not
by hopes of virtue, but by the disgrace of youth? Was I not to react against an
injustice which that man procured to be done by the obsequiousness of a most
iniquitous interposer of his veto, not by any law regulating the privileges of
the praetor? But I imagine that this was mentioned by you, in order that you
might recommend yourself to the citizens, if they all recollected that you were
the son-in-law of a freedman, and that your children were the grandsons of
Quintus Fadius a freedman.
But you had entirely devoted yourself to my principles; (for this is what you
said;) you had been in the habit of coming to my house. In truth, if you had
done so, you would more have consulted your own character and your reputation
for chastity. But you did not do so, nor, if you had wished it, would Caius
Curio have ever suffered you to do so. You
have said, that you retired in my favour from the contest for the
augurship. Oh the incredible audacity! oh the monstrous impudence of such an
assertion! For, at the time when Cnaeus Pompeius and Quintus Hortensius named me
as augur, after I had been wished for as such by the whole college, (for it was
not lawful for me to be put in nomination by more than two members of the
college,) you were notoriously insolvent, nor did you think it possible for your
safety to be secured by any other means than by the destruction of the republic.
But was it possible for you to stand for the augurship at a time when Curio was
not in Italy? or even at the time when
you were elected, could you have got the votes of one single tribe without the
aid of Curio? whose intimate friends even were convicted of violence for having
been too zealous in your favour.
But I availed myself of your friendly assistance. Of what assistance? Although
the instance which you cite I have myself at all times openly admitted. I
preferred confessing that I was under obligations to you, to letting myself
appear to any foolish person not sufficiently grateful. However, what was the
kindness that you did me? not killing me at Brundusium? Would you then have slain the man whom the
conqueror himself who conferred on you, as you used to boast, the chief rank
among all his robbers, had desired to be safe, and had enjoined to go to
Italy? Grant that you could have
slain him, is not this, O conscript fathers, such a kindness as is done by
banditti, who are contented with being able to boast that they have granted
their lives to all those men whose lives they have not taken? and if that were
really a kindness, then those who slew that man by whom they themselves had been
saved, and whom you yourself are in the habit of styling most illustrious men,
would never have acquired such immortal glory. But what sort of kindness is it,
to have abstained from committing nefarious wickedness? It is a case in which it
ought not to appear so delightful to me not to have been killed by you, as
miserable, that it should have been in your power to do such a thing with
impunity. I, however, grant that it was a
kindness, since no greater kindness could be received from a robber, still in
what point can you call me ungrateful? Ought I not to complain of the ruin of
the republic, lest I should appear ungrateful towards you? But in
that complaint, mournful indeed and miserable, but still unavoidable for a man
of that rank in which the senate and people of Rome have placed me, what did I say that was insulting? that
was otherwise than moderate? that was otherwise than friendly? and what instance
was it not of moderation to complain of the conduct of Marcus Antonius, and yet
to abstain from any abusive expressions? especially when you had scattered
abroad all relics of the republic; when everything was on sale at your house by
the most infamous traffic; when you confessed that those laws which had never
been promulgated, had been passed with reference to you, and by you; when you,
being augur, had abolished the auspices, being consul, had taken away the power
of interposing the veto; when you were escorted in the most shameful manner by
armed guards; when, worn out with drunkenness and debauchery, you were every day
performing all sorts of obscenities in that chaste house of yours. But I, as if I had to contend against Marcus Crassus,
with whom I have had many severe struggles, and not with a most worthless
gladiator, while complaining in dignified language of the state of the republic
did not say one word which could be called personal. Therefore, today I will
make him understand with what great kindness he was then treated by me.
But he also read letters which he said that I had sent to him, like a man devoid
of humanity and ignorant of the common usages of life. For who ever, who was
even but slightly acquainted with the habits of polite men, produced in an
assembly and openly read letters which had been sent to him by a friend, just
because some quarrel had arisen between them? Is not this destroying all
companionship in life, destroying the means by which absent friends converse
together? How many jests are frequently put in letters, which if they were
produced in public, would appear stupid! How many serious opinions, which, for
all that, ought not to be published! Let this
be a proof of your utter ignorance of courtesy. Now mark, also, his incredible
folly. What have you to oppose to me, O you eloquent man, as you seem at least
to Mustela Tamisius, and to Tiro Numisius? And while these men are standing at
this very time in the sight of the senate with drawn swords, I too will think
you an eloquent man if you will show bow you would defend them if they were
charged with being assassins, However, what answer would you make
if I were to deny that I ever sent those letters to you? By what evidence could
you convict me? by my handwriting? Of handwriting indeed you have a lucrative
knowledge.He means to insinuate that Antonius had been
forging Caesar's handwriting and signature. How can you prove it in
that manner? for the letters are written by an amanuensis. By this time I envy
your teacher, who for all that payment, which I shall mention presently, has
taught you to know nothing.
For what can be less like, I do not say an orator, but a man, than to reproach an
adversary with a thing which if be denies by one single word, he who has
reproached him cannot advance one step further? But I do not deny it; and in
this very point I convict you not only of inhumanity but also of madness. For
what expression is there in those letters which is not full of humanity and
service and benevolence? and the whole of your charge amounts to this, that I do
not express a bad opinion of you in those letters; that in them I wrote as to a
citizen, and as to a virtuous man, not as to a wicked man and a robber. But your
letters I will not produce, although I fairly might, now that I am thus
challenged by you; letters in which you beg of me that you may be enabled by my
consent to procure the recall of some one from exile; and you will not attempt
it if I have any objection, and you prevail on me by your entreaties. For why
should I put myself in the way of your audacity? when neither the authority of
this body, nor the opinion of the Roman people, nor any laws are able to
restrain you. However, what was the object of
your addressing these entreaties to me, if the man for whom you were entreating
was already restored by a law of Caesar's? I suppose the truth was, that he
wished it to be done by me as a favour; in which matter there could not be any
favour done even by himself, if a law was already passed for the purpose.
But as, O conscript fathers, I have many things which I must say both in my own
defence and against Marcus Antonius, one thing I ask you, that you will listen
to me with kindness while I am speaking for myself; the other I will ensure
myself, namely, that you shall listen to me with attention while speaking
against him. At the same time also, I beg this of you; that if you
have been acquainted with my moderation and modesty throughout my whole life,
and especially as a speaker, you will not, when today I answer this man in the
spirit in which he has attacked me, think that I have forgotten my usual
character. I will not treat him as a consul, for he did not treat me as a man of
consular rank; and although he in no respect deserves to be considered a consul,
whether we regard his way of life, or his principle of governing the republic,
or the manner in which he was elected, I am beyond all dispute a man of consular
rank.
That, therefore, you might understand what sort of a consul he professed to be
himself, he reproached me with my consulship;—a consulship which, O
conscript fathers, was in name, indeed, mine, but in reality yours. For what did
I determine, what did I contrive, what did I do, that was not determined,
contrived, or done, by the counsel and authority and in accordance with the
sentiments of this order I And have you, O wise man, O man not merely eloquent
dared to find fault with these actions before the very men by whose counsel and
wisdom they were performed? But who was ever found before, except Publius
Clodius, to find fault with my consulship? And his fate indeed awaits you, as it
also awaited Caius Curio; since that is now in your house which was fatal to
each of them.Fulvia, who had been the wife of Clodius, and
afterwards of Curio, was now the wife of Antonius.
Marcus Antonius disapproves of my consulship; but it was approved of by Publius
Servilius—to name that man first of the men of consular rank who had
died most recently. It was approved of by Quintus Catulus, whose authority will
always carry weight in this republic; it was approved of by the two Luculli, by
Marcus Crassus, by Quintus Hortensius, by Caius Curio, by Caius Piso, by Marcus
Glabrio, by Marcus Lepidus, by Lucius Volcatius, by Caius Figulus, by Decimus
Silanus and Lucius Murena, who at that time were the consuls elect, the same
consulship also which was approved of by those men of consular rank, was
approved of by Marcus Cato; who escaped many evils by departing from this life,
and especially the evil of seeing you consul. But, above all, my consulship was
approved of by Cnaeus Pompeius, who, when he first saw me, as he was leaving
Syria, embracing me and
congratulating me, said, that it was owing to my services that he
was about to see his country again. But why should I mention individuals? It was
approved of by the senate, in a very full house, so completely, that there was
no one who did not thank me as if I had been his parent, who did not attribute
to me the salvation of his life, of his fortunes, of his children, and of the
republic.
But since the republic has been now deprived of those men whom I have named, many
and illustrious as they were, let us come to the living, since two of the men of
consular rank are still left to us: Lucius Cotta, a man of the greatest genius
and the most consummate prudence, proposed a supplication in my honour for those
very actions with which you find fault, in the most complimentary language, and
those very men of consular rank whom I have named, and the whole senate, adopted
his proposal; an honour which has never been paid to any one else in the garb of
peace from the foundation of the city to my time. With what eloquence, with what firm wisdom, with what a
weight of authority did Lucius Caesar your uncle, pronounce his opinion against
the husband of his own sister, your stepfather. But you, when you ought to have
taken him as your adviser and tutor in all your designs, and in the whole
conduct of your life, preferred being like your stepfather to resembling your
uncle. I, Who had no connection with him, acted by his counsels while I was
consul. Did you, who were his sister's son, ever once consult him on the affairs
of the republic?
But who are they whom Antonius does consult? O ye immortal gods, they are men
whose birthdays we have still to learn. Today Antonius is not coming down.
Why? He is celebrating the birthday feast
at his villa. In whose honor? I will name no one. Suppose it is in honor of some
Phormio, or Gnatho, or even Ballio. These were the names of
slaves. Oh the abominable profligacy of the man! oh how intolerable
is his impudence, his debauchery, and his lust! Can you, when you have one of
the chiefs of the senate, a citizen of singular virtue, so nearly related to
you, abstain from ever consulting him on the affairs of the republic, and
consult men who have no property whatever of their own, and are draining yours?
Yes, your consulship, forsooth, is a salutary one for the state, mine a
mischievous one. Have you so entirely lost all shame as well as all chastity,
that you could venture to say this in that temple in which I was consulting that
senate which formerly in the full enjoyment of its honors presided over the
world? And did you place around it abandoned men armed with swords? But you have dared besides (what is there which you
would not dare?) to say that the Capito line Hill, when I was consul was full of
aimed slaves. I was offering violence to the senate, I suppose, in order to
compel the adoption of those infamous decrees of the senate. O wretched man,
whether those things are not known to you (for you know nothing that is good),
or whether they are, when you dare to speak so shamelessly before such men! For
what Roman knight was there, what youth of noble birth except you, what man of
any rank or class who recollected that he was a citizen, who was not on the
Capitoline Hill while the senate
was assembled in this temple? who was there, who did not give in his name?
Although there could not be provided checks enough, nor were the books able to
contain their names.
In truth, when wicked men, being compelled by the revelations of the accomplices,
by their own handwriting, and by what I may almost call the voices of their
letters, were confessing that they had planned the parricidal destruction of
their country, and that they had agreed to burn the city, to massacre the
citizens, to devastate Italy, to
destroy the republic; who could have existed without being roused to defend the
common safety? especially when the senate and people of Rome had a leader then, and if they had one
now like he was then, the same fate would befall you which did overtake them.
He asserts that the body of his stepfather was not allowed burial by me. But this
is an assertion that was never made by Publius Clodius, a man whom, as I was
deservedly an enemy of his, I grieve now to see surpassed by you in every sort
of vice. But how could it occur to you to recall to our recollection that you
had been educated in the house of Publius Lentulus? Were you afraid that we
might think that you could have turned out as infamous as you are by the mere
force of nature, your natural qualities had not been strengthened by education?
But you are so senseless that throughout the whole of your speech
you were at variance with yourself; so that you said things which had not only
no coherence with each other, but which were most inconsistent with and
contradictory to one another; so that there was not so much opposition between
you and me as there was between you and yourself. You confessed that your
stepfather had been implicated in that enormous wickedness, yet you complained
that he had had punishment inflicted on him. And by doing so you praised what
was peculiarly my achievement, and blamed that which was wholly the act of the
senate. For the detection and arrest of the guilty parties was my work, their
punishment was the work of the senate. But that eloquent man does not perceive
that the man against whom he is speaking is being praised by him, and that those
before whom he is speaking are being attacked by him. But now what an act, I will not say of audacity, (for he is
anxious to be audacious,) but (and that is what he is not desirous of) what an
act of folly, in which he surpasses all men, is it to make mention of the
Capitoline Hill, at a time when
armed men are actually between our benches—when men, armed with
swords, are now stationed in this same temple of Concord, O ye immortal gods, in
which, while I was consul, opinions most salutary to the state were delivered,
owing to which it is that we are all alive at this day.
Accuse the senate; accuse the equestrian body, which at that time was united with
the senate; accuse every order or society, and all the citizens, as long as you
confess that this assembly at this very moment is besieged by ItyreanItyra was a town at the foot of Mount Taurus.
soldiers. It is not so much a proof of audacity to advance these statements so
impudently, as of utter want of sense to be unable to see their contradictory
nature. For what is more insane than, after you yourself have taken up arms to
do mischief to the republic, to reproach another with having taken them up to
secure its safety? On one occasion you attempted even to be witty. O ye good
gods, how little did that attempt suit you!
And yet you are a little to be blamed for your failure in that instance, too.
For you might have got some wit from your wife, who was an actress.
“Arms to the gown must yield.” Well, have they not yielded?
But afterwards the gown yielded to your arms. Let us inquire then whether it was better for the arms of wicked men to yield to the freedom of
the Roman people, or that our liberty should yield to your arms. Nor will I make
any further reply to you about the verses. I will only say briefly that you do
not understand them, nor any other literature whatever. That I have never at any
time been wanting to the claims that either the republic or my friends had upon
me; but nevertheless that in all the different sorts of composition on which I
have employed myself, during my leisure hours, I have always endeavoured to make
my labours among my writings such as to be some advantage to our youth, and some
credit to the Roman name. But, however, all this has nothing to do with the
present occasion. Let us consider more important matters.
You have said that Publius Clodius was slain by my contrivance. What would men
have thought if he had been slain at the time when you pursued him in the forum
with a drawn sword, in the sight of all the Roman people; and when you would
have settled his business if he had not thrown himself up the stairs of a
bookseller's shop, and, shutting them against you, checked your attack by that
means? And I confess that at that time I favoured you, but even you yourself do
not say that I had advised your attempt. But as for Milo, it was not possible even for me to favour his action. For
he had finished the business before any one could suspect that he was going to
do it. Oh, but I advised it. I suppose Milo was a man of such a disposition that he was not able to do
a service to the republic if he had not some one to advise him to do it. But I
rejoiced at it. Well, suppose I did; was I to be the only sorrowful person in
the city, when every one else was in such delight? Although that inquiry into the death of Publius Clodius was
not instituted with any great wisdom. For what was the reason for having a new
law to inquire into the conduct of the man who had slain him, when there was a
form of inquiry already established by the laws? However, an inquiry was
instituted. And have you now been found, so
many years afterwards, to say a thing which, at the time that the affair was
under discussion, no one ventured to say against me? But as to the assertion
that you have dared to make, and that at great length too, that it was by my
means that Pompeius was alienated from his friendship with Caesar,
and that on that account it was my fault that the civil war was originated; in
that you have not erred so much in the main facts, as (and that is of the
greatest importance) in the times.
When Marcus Bibulus, a most illustrious citizen, was consul, I omitted nothing
which I could possibly do or attempt to draw off Pompeius from his union with
Caesar. In which, however, Caesar was more fortunate than I, for he himself drew
off Pompeius from his intimacy with me. But afterwards, when Pompeius joined
Caesar with all his heart, what could have been my object in attempting to
separate them then? It would have been the part of a fool to hope to do so, and
of an impudent man to advise it. However, two occasions did arise, on which I
gave Pompeius advice against Caesar. You are at liberty to find fault with my
conduct on those occasions if you can. One was when I advised him not to
continue Caesar's government for five years more. The other, when I advised him
not to permit him to be considered as a candidate for the consulship when he was
absent. And if I had been able to prevail on him in either of these particulars,
we should never have fallen into our present miseries.
Moreover, I also, when Pompeius had now devoted to the service of Caesar all his
own power, and all the power of the Roman people, and had begun when it was too
late to perceive all those things which I had foreseen long before, and when I
saw that a nefarious war was about to be waged against our country, I never
ceased to be the adviser of peace, and concord, and some arrangement. And that
language of mine was well known to many people,—“I wish, O
Cnaeus Pompeius, that you had either never joined in a confederacy with Caius
Caesar, or else that you had never broken it off. The one conduct would have
become your dignity, and the other would have been suited to your
prudence.” This, O Marcus Antonius, was at all times my advice both
respecting Pompeius and concerning the republic. And if it had prevailed, the
republic would still be standing, and you would have perished through your own
crimes, and indigence, and infamy.
But these are all old stories now. This charge, however, is quite a modern one,
that Caesar was slain by my contrivance. I am afraid, O conscript fathers, lest
I should appear to you to have brought up a sham accuser against
myself (which is a most disgraceful thing to do); a man not only to distinguish
me by the praises which are my due, but to load me also with those which do not
belong to me. For who ever heard my name mentioned as an accomplice in that most
glorious action? and whose name has been concealed who was in the number of that
gallant band? Concealed, do I say? Whose name was there which was not at once
made public? I should sooner say that some men had boasted in order to appear to
have been concerned in that conspiracy, though they had in reality known nothing
of it than that any one who had been an accomplice in it could have wished to be
concealed. Moreover, how likely it is, that
among such a number of men, some obscure, some young men who had not the wit to
conceal any one, my name could possibly have escaped notice? Indeed, if leaders
were wanted for the purpose of delivering the country, what need was there of my
instigating the Bruti, one of whom saw every day in his house the image of
Lucius Brutus, and the other saw also the image of Ahala? Were these the men to
seek counsel from the ancestors of others rather than from their own? and but of
doors rather than at home? What? Caius Cassius, a man of that family which could
not endure, I will not say the domination, but even the power of any
individual,—he, I suppose, was in need of me to instigate him? a man
who even without the assistance of these other most illustrious men, would have
accomplished this same deed in Cilicia,
at the mouth of the river Cydnus, if Caesar had brought his ships to that bank
of the river which he had intended, and not to the opposite one. Was Cnaeus Domitius spurred on to seek to recover
his dignity, not by the death of his father, a most illustrious man, nor by the
death of his uncle, nor by the deprivation of his own dignity, but by my advice
and authority? Did I persuade Caius Trebonius? a man whom I should not have
ventured even to advise. On which account the republic owes him even a larger
debt of gratitude, because he preferred the liberty of the Roman people to the
friendship of one man, and because he preferred overthrowing arbitrary power to
sharing it. Was I the instigator whom Lucius Tillius Cimber followed? a man whom
I admired for having performed that action, rather than ever expected that he
would perform it; and I admired him on this account, that he was
unmindful of the personal kindnesses which he had received, but mindful of his
country. What shall I say of the two Servilii? Shall I call them Cascas, or
Ahalas? and do you think that those men were instigated by my authority rather
than by their affection for the republic? It would take a long time to go
through all the rest; and it is a glorious thing for the republic that they were
so numerous, and a most honourable thing also for themselves.
But recollect, I pray you, how that clever man convicted me of being an
accomplice in the business. When Caesar was slain, says he, Marcus Brutus
immediately lifted up on high his bloody dagger, and called on Cicero by name;
and congratulated him on liberty being recovered. Why on man above all men?
Because I knew of it beforehand? Consider rather whether this was not his reason
for calling on me, that, when he had performed an action very like those which I
myself had done, he called me above all men to witness that he had been an
imitator of my exploits. But you, O stupidest
of all men, do you not perceive, that if it is a crime to have wished that
Caesar should be slain—which you accuse me of having
wished—it is a crime also to have rejoiced at his death? For what is
the difference between a man who has advised an action, and one who has approved
of it? or what does it signify whether I wished it to be done, or rejoice that
it has been done? Is there any one then, except you yourself and these men who
wished him to become a king, who was unwilling that that deed should be done, or
who disapproved of it after it was done? All men, therefore, are guilty as far
as this goes. In truth, all good men, as far as it depended on them, bore a part
in the slaying of Caesar. Some did not know how to contrive it, some had not
courage for it, some had no opportunity,—every one had the
inclination.
However, remark the stupidity of this fellow,—I should rather say, of
this brute beast. For thus he spoke:—“Marcus Brutus, whom I
name to do him honour, holding aloft his bloody dagger, called upon Cicero, from
which it must be understood that he was privy to the action.” Am I
then called wicked by you because you suspect that I suspected something; and is
he who openly displayed his reeking dagger; named by you that you may do him
honour? Be it so. Let this stupidity exist in your language: how much greater is
it in your actions and opinions? Arrange matters in this way at last, O consul;
pronounce the cause of the Bruti, of Caius Cassius, of Cnaeus Domitius, of Caius
Trebonius and the rest to be whatever you please to call it: sleep off that
intoxication of yours, sleep it off and take breath. Must one apply a torch to
you to waken you while you are sleeping over such an important affair? Will you
never understand that you have to decide whether those men who performed that
action are homicides or assertors of freedom?
For just consider a little; and for a moment think of the business like a sober
man. I who, as I myself confess, am an intimate friend of those men, and, as you
accuse me, an accomplice of theirs, deny that there is any medium between these
alternatives. I confess that they, if they be not deliverers of the Roman people
and saviours of the republic, are worse than assassins, worse than homicides,
worse even than parricides: since it is a more atrocious thing to murder the
father of one's country, than one's own father. You wise and considerate man,
what do you say to this? If they are parricides, why are they always named by
you, both in this assembly and before the Roman people, with a view to do them
honour? Why has Marcus Brutus been, on your motion, excused from obedience to
the laws, and allowed to be absent from the city more than ten days?Brutus was the Praetor urbanus
this year, and that officer's duty confined him to the city; and he was
forbidden by law to be absent more than ten days at a time during his year
of office. Why were the games of Apollo celebrated with incredible
honour to Marcus Brutus? why were provinces given to Brutus and Cassius? why
were quaestors assigned to them? why was the number of their lieutenants
augmented? And all these measures were owing to you. They are not homicides
then. It follows that in your opinion they are deliverers of their country,
since there can be no other alternative. What
is the matter? Am I embarrassing you? For perhaps you do not quite understand
propositions which are stated disjunctively. Still this is the sum total of my
conclusion; that since they are acquitted by you of wickedness, they are at the
same time pronounced most worthy of the very most honourable rewards.
Therefore, I will now proceed again with my oration. I will write to them, if any
one by chance should ask whether what you have imputed to me be true, not to
deny it to any one. In truth, I am afraid that it must be considered either a
not very creditable thing to them, that they should have concealed the fact of
my being an accomplice; or else a most discreditable one to me that I was
invited to be one, and that I shirked it. For what greater exploit (I call you
to witness, O august Jupiter!) was ever
achieved not only in this city, but in all the earth? What more glorious action
was ever done? What deed was ever more deservedly recommended to the everlasting
recollection of men? Do you, then, shut me up with the other leaders in the
partnership in this design, as in the Trojan horse? I have no objection; I even
thank you for doing so, with whatever intent you do it. For the deed is so great a one, that I can not compare the
unpopularity which you wish to excite against me on account of it, with its real
glory.
For who can be happier than those men whom you boast of having now expelled and
driven from the city? What place is there either so deserted or so uncivilized,
as not to seem to greet and to covet the presence of those men wherever they
have arrived? What men are so clownish as not, when they have once beheld them,
to think that they have reaped the greatest enjoyment that life can give? And
what posterity will be ever so forgetful, what literature will ever be found so
ungrateful, as not to cherish their glory with undying recollection? Enroll me
then, I beg, in the number of those men.
But one thing I am afraid you may not approve of. For if I had really been one of
their number, I should have not only got rid of the king, but of the kingly
power also out of the republic; and if I had been the author of the piece, as it
is said, believe me, I should not have been contented with one act, but should
have finished the whole play. Although, if it be a crime to have wished that
Caesar might be put to death, beware, I pray you, O Antonius, of what must be
your own case, as it is notorious that you, when at Narbo, formed a plan of the same sort with Caius Trebonius; and
it was on account of your participation in that design that, when Caesar was
being killed, we saw you called aside by Trebonius But I (see how far I am from
any horrible inclination toward,) praise you for having once in your life had a
righteous intention; I return you thanks for not having revealed the matter; and
I excuse you for not having accomplished your purpose. That exploit required a man.
And if any one should institute a prosecution against you, and employ that test
of old Cassius, “who reaped any advantage from it?” take
care, I advise you, lest you suit that description. Although, in truth, that
action was, as you used to say, an advantage to every one who was not willing to
be a slave, still it was so to you above all men, who are not merely not a
slave, but are actually a king; who delivered yourself from an enormous burden
of debt at the temple of Ops; who, by your dealings with the account-books,
there squandered a countless sum of money; who have had such vast treasures
brought to you from Caesar's house; at whose own house there is set up a most
lucrative manufactory of false memoranda and autographs, and a most iniquitous
market of lands, and towns, and exemptions, and revenues. In truth, what measure except the death of Caesar could
possibly have been any relief to your indigent and insolvent condition? You
appear to be somewhat agitated. Have you any secret fear that you yourself may
appear to have had some connection with that crime? I will release you from all
apprehension; no one will ever believe it; it is not like you to deserve well of
the republic; the most illustrious men in the republic are the authors of that
exploit; I only say that you are glad it was done; I do not accuse you of having
done it.
I have replied to your heaviest accusations, I must now also reply to the rest of
them.
You have thrown in my teeth the camp of Pompeius and all my conduct at that time.
At which time, indeed, if, as I have said before, my counsels and my authority
had prevailed, you would this day be in indigence, we should be free and the
republic would not have lost so many generals and so many armies. For I confess
that, when I saw that these things certainly would happen, which now have
happened, I was as greatly grieved as all the other virtuous citizens would have
been if they had foreseen the same things. I did grieve, I did grieve, O
conscript fathers, that the republic which had once been saved by your counsels
and mine, was fated to perish in a short time. Nor was I so inexperienced in and
ignorant of this nature of things, as to be disheartened on account of a
fondness for life, which while it endured would wear me out with anguish, and
when brought to an end would release me from all trouble. But I was desirous
that those most illustrious men, the lights of the republic, should live: so
many men of consular rank, so many men of praetorian rank, so many most
honorable senators; and besides them all the flower of our nobility and of our
youth; and the armies of excellent citizens. And if they were still alive, under
ever such hard conditions of peace (for any sort of peace with our
fellow-citizens appeared to me more desirable than civil war), we should be
still this day enjoying the republic.
And if my opinion had prevailed, and if those
men, the preservation of whose lives was my main object, elated with the hope of
victory, had not been my chief opposers, to say nothing of other results, at all
events you would never have continued in this order, or rather in this city. But
say you, my speech alienated from me the regard of Pompeius? Was there any one
to whom he was more attached? any one with whom he conversed or shared his
counsels more frequently? It was, indeed, a great thing that we, differing as we
did respecting the general interests of the republic, should continue in
uninterrupted friendship. But I saw clearly what his opinions and views were,
and he saw mine equally. I was for providing for the safety of the citizens in
the first place, in order that we might be able to consult their dignity
afterward. He thought more of consulting their existing dignity. But because
each of us had a definite object to pursue, our disagreement was the more
endurable. But what that extra ordinary and
almost godlike man thought of me is known to those men who pursued him to
Paphos from the battle of
Pharsalia. No mention of me was ever made by him that was not the most honorable
that could be, that was not full of the most friendly regret for me; while he
confessed that I had had the most foresight, but that he had had more sanguine
hopes. And do you dare taunt me with the name of that man whose friend you admit
that I was, and whose assassin you confess yourself?
However, let us say no more of war in which you were too fortunate. I will not
reply even with those jests to which you have said that I gave utterance in the
camp. That camp was in truth full of anxiety, but although men are in great
difficulties, still, provided they are men, they sometimes relax their minds.
But the fact that the same man finds
fault with my melancholy, and also with my jokes, is a great proof that I was
very moderate in each particular.
You have said that no inheritances come to me. Would that this accusation of
yours were a true one; I should have more of my friends and connections alive.
But how could such a charge ever come into your head? For I have received more
than twenty millions of sesterces in inheritances. Although in this particular I
admit that you have been more fortunate than I. No one has ever made me his heir
except he was a friend of mine, in order that my grief of mind for his loss
might be accompanied also with some gain, if it was to be considered as such.
But a man whom you never even saw, Lucius Rubrius, of Casinum, made you his heir. And see now how much he loved you, who, though he
did not know whether you were white or black, passed over the son of his
brother, Quintus Fufius, a most honorable Roman knight, and most attached to
him, whom he had on all occasions openly declared his heir (he never even names
him in his will), and he makes you his heir whom he had never seen, or at all
events had never spoken to.
I wish you would tell me, if it is not too much trouble, what sort of countenance
Lucius Turselius was of; what sort of height; from what municipal town he came;
and of what tribe he was a member. “I know nothing,” you
will say, “about him, except what farms he had.” Therefore,
he, disinheriting his brother, made you his heir. And besides these instances,
this man has seized on much other property belonging to men wholly unconnected
with him, to the exclusion of the legitimate heirs, as if he himself were the
heir. Although the thing that struck me with
most astonishment of all was, that you should venture to make mention of
inheritances, when you yourself had not received the inheritance of your own
father.
And was it in order to collect all these arguments, O you most senseless of men,
that you spent so many days in practicing declamation in another man's villa?
Although, indeed (as your most intimate friends usually say), you are in the
habit of declaiming, not for the purpose of whetting your genius, but of working
off the effects of wine. And, indeed, you employ a master to teach you jokes, a
man appointed by your own vote and that of your boon companions; a rhetorician,
whom you have allowed to say whatever he pleased against you, a thoroughly
facetious gentleman; but there are plenty of materials for speaking against you
and against your friends. But just see now what a difference there is between
you and your grandfather. He used with great deliberation to bring forth
arguments advantageous for the cause he was advocating; you pour forth in a
hurry the sentiments which you have been taught by another. And what wages have you paid this rhetorician? Listen,
listen, O conscript fathers, and learn the blows which are inflicted on the
republic. You have assigned, O Antonius, two thousand acresI have translated jugerum,
“an acre,” because it is usually so
translated, but in point of fact it was not quite two-thirds of an English
acre. At the same time it was nearly three times as large as the Greek
ple/qron, which is often translated
acre also. of land, in the Leontine district, to
Sextus Clodius, the rhetorician, and those, too, exempt from every kind of tax,
for the sake of putting the Roman people to such a vast expense that you might
learn to be a fool. Was this gift, too, O you most audacious of men, found among
Caesar's papers? But I will take another opportunity to speak about the Leontine
and the Campanian district; where he has stolen lands from the republic to
pollute them with most infamous owners. For now, since I have sufficiently
replied to all his charges, I must say a little about our corrector and censor
himself. And yet I will not say all I could, in order that if I have often to
battle with him I may always come to the contest with fresh arms; and the
multitude of his vices and atrocities will easily enable me to do so.
Shall we then examine your conduct from the time when you were a boy? I think so.
Let us begin at the beginning. Do you recollect that, while you were still clad
in the praetexta, you became a bankrupt? That was
the fault of your father, you will say. I admit that. In truth such a defense is
full of filial affection. But it is peculiarly suited to your own audacity, that
you sat among the fourteen rows of the knights, though by the Roscian law there
was a place appointed for bankrupts, even if any one had become such by the
fault of fortune and not by his own. You assumed the manly gown, which your soon
made a womanly one: at first a public prostitute, with a regular price for your
wickedness, and that not a low one. But very soon Curio stepped in, who carried
you off from your public trade, and, as if he had bestowed a matron's robe upon
you, settled you in a steady and durable wedlock. No boy bought for the gratification of passion was ever so
wholly in the power of his master as you were in Curio's. How often has his
father turned you out of his house? How often has he placed guards to prevent
you from entering? while you, with night for your accomplice, lust for your
encourager, and wages for your compeller, were let down through the roof. That
house could no longer endure your wickedness. Do you not know that I am speaking
of matters with which I am thoroughly acquainted? Remember that time when Curio,
the father, lay weeping in his bed; his son throwing himself at my feet with
tears recommended to me you; he entreated me to defend you against his own
father, if he demanded six millions of sesterces of you; for that he had been
bail for you to that amount. And he himself, burning with love, declared
positively that because he was unable to bear the misery of being separated from
you, he should go into banishment. And at
that time what misery of that most flourishing family did I allay, or rather did
I remove! I persuaded the father to pay the son's debts; to release the young
man, endowed as he was with great promise of courage and ability, by the
sacrifice of part of his family estate; and to use his privileges and authority
as a father to prohibit him not only from all intimacy with, but from every
opportunity of meeting you. When you recollected that all this was done by me,
would you have dared to provoke me by abuse if you had not been trusting to
those swords which we behold?
But let us say no more of your profligacy and debauchery. There are things which
it is not possible for me to mention with honor; but you are all the more free
for that, inasmuch as you have not scrupled to be an actor in scenes which a
modest enemy can not bring himself to mention.
Mark now, O conscript fathers, the rest of his life, which I will touch upon
rapidly. For my inclination hastens to arrive at those things which he did in
the time of the civil war, amid the greatest miseries of the republic and at
those things which he does every day. And I beg of you, though they are far
better known to you than they are to me, still to listen attentively, as you are
doing to my relation of them. For in such cases as this, it is not the mere
knowledge of such actions that ought to excite the mind, but the recollection of
them also. Although we must at once go into the middle of them, lest otherwise
we should be too long in coming to the end.
He was very intimate with Clodius at the time
of his tribuneship; he, who now enumerates the kindnesses which he did me. He
was the firebrand to handle all conflagrations; and even in his house he
attempted something. He himself well knows what I allude to. From thence he made
a journey to Alexandria, in
defiance of the authority of the senator and against the interests of the
republic, and in spite of religious obstacles; but he had Gabinius for his
lender, with whom whatever he did was sure to be right. What were the
circumstances of his return from thence? what sort of return was it? He went
from Egypt to the farthest extremity of
Gaul before he returned home. And
what was his home! For at that time every man had possession of his own house;
and you had no house any where, O Antonius. House, do you say? what place was
there in the whole world where you could set your foot on any thing that
belonged to you, except Mienum, which you farmed with your partners, as if it
had been Sisapo?Sisapo was a town in Spain, celebrated for some mines of
vermilion, which were farmed by a company.
You came from Gaul to stand for the
quaestorship. Dare to say that you went to your own father before you came to
me. I had already received Caesar's letters, begging me to allow myself to
accept of your excuses; and therefore, I did not allow you even to mention
thanks. After that, I was treated with respect by you, and you received
attentions from me in your canvass for the quaestorship. And it was at that
time, indeed, that you endeavored to slay Publius Clodius in the forum, with the
approbation of the Roman people; and though you made the attempt of your own
accord, and not at my instigation, still you clearly alleged that you did not
think, unless you slew him, that you could possibly make amends to me for all
the injuries which you had done me. And this makes me wonder why you should say
that Milo did that deed at my
instigation; when I never once exhorted you to do it, who of your own accord
attempted to do me the same service. Although, if you had persisted in it, I
should have preferred allowing the action to be set down entirely to your own
love of glory rather than to my influence.
You were elected quaestor. On this, immediately, without any resolution of the
senate authorizing such a step, without drawing lots, without procuring any law
to be passed, you hastened to Caesar. For you thought the camp the only refuge
on earth for indigence, and debt, and profligacy,—for all men, in
short, who were in a state of utter ruin. Then, when you had recruited your
resources again by his largesses and your own robberies (if, indeed, a person
can be said to recruit, who only acquires something which he may immediately
squander), you hastened, being again a beggar, to the tribuneship, in order that
in that magistracy you might, if possible, behave like your friend.
Listen now, I beseech you, O conscript fathers, not to those things which he did
indecently and profligately to his own injury and to his own disgrace as a
private individual; but to the actions which he did impiously and wickedly
against us and our fortunes,—that is to say, against the whole
republic. For it is from his wickedness that you will find that the beginning of
all these evils has arisen.
For when, in the consulship of Lucius
Lentulus and Marcus Marcellus, you, on the first of January, were anxious to
prop up the republic, which was tottering and almost falling, and were willing
to consult the interests of Caius Caesar himself, if he would have acted like a
man in his senses, then this fellow opposed to your counsels his tribuneship,
which he had sold and handed over to the purchaser, and exposed his own neck to
that ax under which many have suffered for smaller crimes. It was against you, O
Marcus Antonius, that the senate, while still in the possession of its rights,
before so many of its luminaries were extinguished, passed that decree which, in
accordance with the usage of our ancestors, is at times passed against an enemy
who is a citizen. And have you dared, before these conscript fathers, to say any
thing against me, when I have been pronounced by this order to be the savior of
my country, and when you have been declared by it to be an enemy of the
republic? The mention of that wickedness of yours has been interrupted, but the
recollection of it has not been effaced. As long as the race of men, as long as
the name of the Roman people shall exist (and that, unless it is prevented from
being so by your means, will be everlasting), so long will that most mischievous
interposition of your veto be spoken of. What
was there that was being done by the, senate either ambitiously or rashly, when
you, one single young man, forbade the whole order to pass decrees concerning
the safety of the republic? and when you did so, not once only, but repeatedly?
nor would you allow any one to plead with you in behalf of the authority of the
senate; and yet, what did any one entreat of you, except that you would not
desire the republic to be entirely overthrown and destroyed; when neither the
chief men of the state by their entreaties, nor the elders by their warnings,
nor the senate in a full house by pleading with you, could move you from the
determination which you had already sold and as it were delivered to the
purchaser? Then it was, after having tried many other expedients previously,
that a blow was of necessity struck at you which had been struck at only few men
before you, and which none of them had ever survived. Then it was that this order armed the consuls, and the rest
of the magistrates who were invested with either military or civil command,
against you, and you never would have escaped them, if you had not taken refuge
in the camp of Caesar.
It was you, you, I say, O Marcus Antonius, who gave Caius Caesar, desirous as he
already was to throw every thing into confusion, the principal pretext for
waging war against his country. For what other pretense did he allege? what
cause did he give for his own most frantic resolution and action, except that
the power of interposition by the veto had been disregarded, the privileges of
the tribunes taken away, and Antonius's rights abridged by the senate? I say
nothing of how false, how trivial these pretenses were; especially when there
could not possibly be any reasonable cause whatever to justify any one in taking
up arms against his country. But I have nothing to do with Caesar. You must
unquestionably allow that the cause of that ruinous war existed in your person.
O miserable man if you are aware, more miserable still if you are not aware, that
this is recorded in writings, is handed down to men's recollection, that our
very latest posterity in the most distant ages will never forget this fact, that
the consuls were expelled from Italy,
and with them Cnaeus Pompeius, who was the glory and light of the empire of the
Roman people; that all the men of consular rank, whose health would allow them
to share in that disaster and that flight, and the praetors, and men of
praetorian rank, and the tribunes of the people, and a great part of the senate,
and all the flower of the youth of the city, and, in a word, the republic itself
was driven out and expelled from its abode.
As, then, there is in seeds the cause which produces trees and plants, so of
this most lamentable war you were the seed. Do you, O conscript fathers, grieve
that these armies of the Roman people have been slain? It is Antonius who slew
them. Do you regret your most illustrious citizens? It is Antonius, again, who
has deprived you of them. The authority of this order is overthrown; it is
Antonius who has overthrown it. Everything, in short, which we have seen since
that time (and what misfortune is there that we have not seen?) we shall, if we
argue rightly, attribute wholly to Antonius. As Helen was to the Trojans, so has
that man been to this republic,—the cause of war the cause of mischief
the cause of ruin The rest of his tribuneship was like the beginning. He did
every thing which the senate had labored to prevent, as being impossible to be
done consistently with the safety of the republic. And see, now, how
gratuitously wicked he was even in accomplishing his wickedness.
He restored many men who had fallen under misfortune. Among them no mention was
made of his uncle. If he was severe, why was he not so to every one? If he was
merciful, why was he not merciful to his own relations? But I say nothing of the
rest. He restored Licinius. Lenticula, a man who had been condemned for
gambling, and who was a fellow-gamester of his own. As if he could not play with
a condemned man; but in reality, in order to pay by a straining of the law in
his favor, what he had lost by the dice. What reason did you allege to the Roman
people why it was desirable that he should be restored? I suppose you said that
he was absent when the prosecution was instituted against him; that the cause
was decided without his having been heard in his defense; that there was not by
a law any judicial proceeding established with reference to gambling; that he
had been put down by violence or by arms; or lastly, as was said in the case of
your uncle, that the tribunal had been bribed with money. Nothing of this sort
was said. Then he was a good man, and one worthy of the republic. That, indeed,
would have been nothing to the purpose, but still, since being condemned does
not go for much, I would forgive you if that were the truth. Does not he restore
to the full possession of his former privileges the most worthless man
possible,—one who would not hesitate to play at dice even in the
forum, and who had been convicted under the law which exists respecting
gambling,—does not he declare in the most open manner his own
propensities?
Then in this same tribuneship, when Caesar while on hi way into Spain had given him Italy to trample on, what journeys did he make
in every direction! how did he visit the municipal towns! I know that I am only
speaking of matters which have been discussed in every one's conversation, and
that the things which I am saying and am going to say are better known to every
one who was in Italy at that time, than
to me, who was not. Still I mention the particulars of his conduct, although my
speech can not possibly come up to your own personal knowledge. When was such
wickedness ever heard of as existing upon earth? or shamelessness? or such open
infamy?
The tribune of the people was borne along in a chariot, lictors crowned with
laurel preceded him; among whom, on an open litter, was carried an actress; whom
honorable men, citizens of the different municipalities, coming out from their
towns under compulsion to meet him, saluted not by the name by which she was
well known on the stage, but by that of Volumnia.She was a
courtesan who had been enfranchised by her master Volumnius. The name of
Volumnia was dear to the Romans as that of the wife of Coriolanus, to whose
entreaties he had yielded when he drew off his army from the neighborhood of
Rome. A car followed
full of pimps; then a lot of debauched companions; and then his mother, utterly
neglected, followed the mistress of her profligate son, as if she had been her
daughter-in-law. O the disastrous fecundity of that miserable woman! With the
marks of such wickedness as this did that fellow stamp every municipality, and
prefecture, and colony, and, in short, the whole of Italy.
To find fault with the rest of his actions, O conscript fathers, is difficult,
and somewhat unsafe. He was occupied in war; he glutted himself with the
slaughter of citizens who bore no resemblance to himself He was
fortunate—if at least there can be any good fortune in wickedness. But
since we wish to show a regard for the veterans, although the cause of the
soldiers is very different from yours; they followed their chief; you went to
seek for a leader; still (that I may not give you any pretense for stirring up
odium against me among them), I will say nothing of the nature of the war.
When victorious, you returned with the legions from Thessaly to Brundusium. There you did not put me to death. It was a great
kindness! For I confess that you could have done it. Although there was no one
of those men who were with you at that time, who did not think that I ought to
be spared. For so great is men's affection
for their country; that I was sacred even in the eyes of your legions, because
they recollected that the country had been saved by me. However, grant that you
did give me what you did not take away from me; and that I have my life as a
present from you, since it was not taken from me by you; was it possible for me,
after all your insults, to regard that kindness of yours as I regarded it at
first, especially after you saw that you must hear this reply from me?
You came to Brundusium, to the
bosom and embraces of your actress. What is the matter? Am I speaking falsely?
How miserable is it not to be able to deny a fact which it is disgraceful to
confess! If you had no shame before the municipal towns, had you none even
before your veteran army? For what soldier was there who did not see her at
Brundusium? who was there
who did not know that she had come so many days' journey to congratulate you?
who was there who did not grieve that he was so late in finding out how
worthless a man he had been following?
Again you made a tour through Italy, with that same actress for your
companion. Cruel and miserable was the way in which you led your soldiers into
the towns; shameful was the pillager in every city, of gold and silver, and
above all, of wine. And besides all this, while Caesar knew nothing about it, as
he was at Alexandria, Antonius, by the
kindness of Caesar's friends, was appointed his master of the horse. Then he
thought that you could live with HippiaThis is a play on
the name Hippia, as derived from i(/ppos, a
horse. by virtue of his office, and that he might give horses which
were the property of the state to Sergius the buffoon. At that time he had
elected for himself to live in, not the house which he now dishonors, but that
of Marcus Piso. Why need I mention his decrees, his robberies, the possessions
of inheritances which were given him, and those too which were seized by him?
Want compelled him; he did not know where to turn. That great inheritance from
Lucius Rubrius, and that other from Lucius Turselius, had not yet come to him.
He had not yet succeeded as an unexpected heir to the place of Cnaeus Pompeius,
and of many others who were absent. He was forced to live like a robber, having
nothing beyond what he could plunder from others. However, we will say nothing of these things, which are
acts of a more hardy sort of villainy. Let us speak rather of his meaner
descriptions of worthlessness. You, with those jaws of yours, and those sides of
yours, and that strength of body suited to a gladiator, drank such quantities of
wine at the marriage of Hippia, that you were forced to vomit the next day in
the sight of the Roman people. O action disgraceful not merely to see, but even
to hear of! If this had happened to you at supper amid those vast drinking-cups
of yours, who would not have thought it scandalous? But in an assembly of the
Roman people, a man holding a public office, a master of the horse, to whom it
would have been disgraceful even to belch, vomiting filled his own bosom and the
whole tribunal with fragments of what he had been eating reeking with wine. But
he himself confesses this among his other disgraceful acts. Let us proceed to
his more splendid offenses.
Caesar came back from Alexandria,
fortunate, as he seemed at least to himself; but in my opinion no one can be
fortunate who is unfortunate for the republic. The spear was set up in front of
the temple of Jupiter Stator, and the property of Cnaeus Pompeius
Magnus—(miserable that I am, for even now that my tears have ceased to
flow, my grief remains deeply implanted in my heart),—the property, I
say, of Cnaeus Pompeius the Great was submitted to the pitiless voice of the
auctioneer. On that one occasion the state forgot its slavery, and groaned
aloud; and though men's minds were enslaved, as every thing was kept under by
fear, still the groans of the Roman people were free. While all men were waiting
to see who would be so impious, who would be so mad, who would be so declared an
enemy to gods and to men as to dare to mix himself up with that wicked auction,
no one was found except Antonius, even though there were plenty of men collected
round that spearThe custom of erecting a spear wherever an
auction was held is well known; it is said to have arisen from the ancient
practice of selling under a spear the booty acquired in war. who
would have dared any thing else. One man
alone was found to dare to do that which the audacity of every one else had
shrunk from and shuddered at. Were you, then, seized with such
stupidity,—or, I should rather say, with such insanity,—as
not to see that if you, being of the rank in which you were born, acted as a
broker at all, and above all as a broker in the case of Pompeius property, you
would be execrated and hated by the Roman people, and that all gods and all men
must at once become and for ever continue hostile to you? But with what violence
did that glutton immediately proceed to take possession of the property of that
man, to whose valor it had been owing that the Roman people had been more
terrible to foreign nations, while his justice had made it dearer to them.
When, therefore, this fellow had begun to wallow in the treasures of that great
man, he began to exult like a buffoon in a play, who has lately been a beggar,
and has become suddenly rich. But, as some
poet or other says,—
“Ill-gotten gains come quickly to an end.”
It is an incredible thing, and almost a miracle, how he in a few, not months, but
days, squandered all that vast wealth. There was an immense quantity of wine, an
excessive abundance of very valuable plate, much precious apparel, great
quantities of splendid furniture, and other magnificent things in many places,
such as one was likely to see belonging to a man who was not indeed luxurious
but who was very wealthy. Of all this in a few days there was nothing left.
What Charybdis was ever so voracious?
Charybdis, do I say? Charybdis, if she existed at all, was only one animal. The
ocean I swear most solemnly, appears scarcely capable of having swallowed up
such numbers of things so widely scattered and distributed in such different
places with such rapidity. No thing was shut up, nothing sealed up, no list was
made of any thing. Whole storehouses were abandoned to the most worthless of men
Actors seized on this, actresses on that; the house was crowded with gamblers,
and full of drunken men; people were drinking all day, and that too in many
places; there were added to all this expense (for this fellow was not invariably
fortunate) heavy gambling losses. You might see in the cellars of the slaves,
couches covered with the most richly embroidered counterpanes of Cnaeus
Pompeius. Wonder not, then, that all these things were so soon consumed. Such
profligacy as that could have devoured not only the patrimony of one individual,
however ample it might have been (as indeed his was), but whole cities and
kingdoms. And then his houses and gardens!
Oh the cruel audacity! Did you dare to enter into that house? Did you dare to
cross that most sacred threshold? and to show your most profligate countenance
to the household gods who protect that abode? A house which for a long time no
one could behold, no one could pass by without tears! Are you not ashamed to
dwell so long in that house? one in which, stupid and ignorant as you are, still
you can see nothing which is not painful to you.
When you behold those beaks of ships in the vestibule, and those warlike
trophies, do you fancy that you are entering into a house which belongs to you?
It is impossible. Although you are devoid of all sense and all
feeling,—a in truth you are,—still you are acquainted with
yourself, and with your trophies, and with your friends. Nor do I believe that
you, either waking or sleeping, can ever act with quiet sense. It is impossible
but that, were you ever so drunk an frantic,—as in truth you
are,—when the recollection of the appearance of that illustrious man
comes across you, you should be roused from sleep by your fears, and often
stirred up to madness if awake. I pity even
the walls and the room. For what had that house ever beheld except what was
modest, except what proceeded from the purest principles and from the most
virtuous practice? For that man was, O conscript fathers, as you yourselves
know, not only illustrious abroad, but also admirable at home; and not more
praiseworthy for his exploits in foreign countries, than for his domestic
arrangements. Now in his house every bedchamber is a brothel, and every
diningroom a cookshop. Although he denies this:—Do not, do not make
inquiries. He is become economic. He desired that mistress of his to take
possession of whatever belonged to her, according to the laws of the Twelve
Tables. He has taken his keys from her, and turned her out of doors. What a
well-tried citizen! of what proved virtue is he! the most honorable passage in
whose life is the one when he divorced himself from this actress.
But how constantly does he harp on the expression “the consul
Antonius!” This amounts to say “that most debauched
consul,” “that most worthless of men, the consul.”
For what else is. Antonius? For if any dignity were implied the name, then, I
imagine, your grandfather would sometime have called himself “the
consul Antonius.” But he never did. My colleague too, your own uncle,
would have call himself so. Unless you are the only Antonius. But I pass over
those offenses which have no peculiar connection with the part you took in
harassing the republic; I return to that in which you bore so principal a
share,—that is, to the civil war; and it is mainly owing to you that
that was originated, and brought to a head, and carried on.
Though you yourself took no personal share in it, partly through timidity, partly
through profligacy, you had tasted, or rather had sucked in, the blood of
fellow-citizens: you had been in the battle of Pharsalia as a leader; you had
slain Lucius Domitius, a most illustrious and high-born man; you had pursued and
put to death in the most barbarous manner many men who had escaped from the
battle, and whom Caesar would perhaps have saved, as he did some others.
And after having performed these exploits, what was the reason why you did not
follow Caesar into Africa; especially
when so large a portion of the war was still remaining? And accordingly, what
place did you obtain about Caesar's person after his return from Africa? What was your rank? He whose quaestor
you had been when general, whose master of the horse when he was dictator, to
whom you had been the chief cause of war, the chief instigator of cruelty, the
sharer of his plunder, his son, as you yourself said, by inheritance, proceeded
against you for the money which you owed for the house and gardens, and for the
other property which you had bought at that sale. At first you answered fiercely enough; and that I may not
appear prejudiced against you in every particular, you used a tolerably just and
reasonable argument. “What does Caius Caesar demand money of me? why
should he do so, any more than I should claim it of him? Was he victorious
without my assistance? No; and he never could have been. It was I who supplied
him with a pretext for civil war; it was I who proposed mischievous laws; it was
I who took up arms against the consuls and generals of the Roman people, against
the senate and people of Rome, against
the gods of the country, against its altars and hearths, against the country
itself. Has he conquered for himself alone? Why should not those men whose
common work the achievement is, have the booty also in common?” You
were only claiming your right, but what had that to do with it? He was the more
powerful of the two.
Therefore, stopping all your expostulations, he sent his soldiers to you, and to
your sureties; when all on a sudden out came that splendid catalogue of yours.
How men did laugh! That there should be so vast a catalogue, that there should
be such a numerous and various list of possessions, of all of which, with the
exception of a portion of Misenum,
there was nothing which the man who was putting them up to sale could call his
own. And what a miserable sight was the auction. A little apparel of Pompeius's,
and that stained; a few silver vessels belonging to the same man, all battered,
some slaves in wretched condition; so that we grieved that there was any thing
remaining to be seen of these miserable relies. This auction, however, the heirs of Lucius Rubrius prevented from proceeding,
being armed with a decree of Caesar to that effect. The spendthrift was
embarrassed. He did not know which way to turn. It was at this very time that an
assassin sent by him was said to have been detected with a dagger in the house
of Caesar. And of this Caesar himself complained in the senate, inveighing
openly against you. Caesar departs to Spain, having granted you a few days delay for making the
payment, on account of your poverty. Even then you do not follow him. Had so
good a gladiator as you retired from business so early? Can any one then fear a
man who was as timid as this man in upholding his party, that is, in upholding
his own fortunes?
After some time he at last went into Spain; but, as he says, he could not arrive there in safety.
How then did Dolabella manage to arrive there? Either, O Antonius, that cause
ought never to have been undertaken, or when you had undertaken it, it should
have been maintained to the end. Thrice did Caesar fight against his
fellow-citizens; in Thessaly, in
Africa, and in Spain. Dolabella was present at all these
battles. In the battle in Spain he even
received a wound. If you ask my opinion, I wish he had not been there. But
still, if his design at first was blamable, his consistency and firmness were
praiseworthy. But what shall we say of you? In the first place, the children of
Cnaeus Pompeius sought to be restored to their country. Well, this concerned the
common interests of the whole party. Besides that, they sought to recover their
household gods, the gods of their country, their altars, their hearths, the
tutelar gods of their family; all of which you had seized upon. And when they
sought to recover those things by force of arms which belonged to them by the
laws, who was it most natural—(although in unjust and unnatural
proceedings what can there be that is natural?)—still, who was it most
natural to expect would fight against the children of Cnaeus Pompeius? Who? Why,
you who had bought their property. Were you
at Narbo to be sick over the tables of
your entertainers while Dolabella was fighting your battles in Spain?
And what return was that of yours from Narbo? He even asked why I had returned so suddenly from my
expedition. I have just briefly explained to you, O conscript fathers, the
reason of my return. I was desirous, if I could, to be of service to the
republic even before the first of January. For, as to your question, how I had
returned in the first place, I returned by daylight, not in the dark, in the
second place, I returned in shoes, and in my Roman gown, not in any Gallic
slippers, or barbarian mantle. And even now you keep looking at me; and, as it
seems, with great anger. Surely you would be reconciled to me if you knew how
ashamed I am of your worthlessness, which you yourself are not ashamed of. Of
all the profligate conduct of all the world, I never saw, I never heard of any
more shameful than yours. You, who fancied yourself a master of the horse, when
you were standing for, or I should rather say begging for, the consulship for
the ensuing year, ran in Gallic slippers and a barbarian mantle about the
municipal towns and colonies of Gaul,
from which we used to demand the consulship when the consulship was stood for
and not begged for.
But mark now the trifling character of the fellow. When about the tenth hour of
the day he had arrived at Red Rocks, he skulked into a little petty wine-shop,
and, hidden there, kept on drinking till evening. And from thence getting into a
gig and being driven rapidly to the city, he came to his own house with his head
veiled. “Who are you?” says the porter. “An
express from Marcus.” He is at once taken to the woman for whose sake
he had come; and he delivered the letter to her. And when she had read it with
tears (for it was written in a very amorous style, but the main subject of the
letter was that he would have nothing to do with that actress for the future;
that he had discarded all his love for her, and transferred it to his
correspondent), when she, I say, wept plentifully, this soft-hearted man could
bear it no longer; he uncovered his head and threw himself on her neck. Oh the
worthless man (for what else can I call him? there is no more suitable
expression for me to use)! was it for this that you disturbed the city by
nocturnal alarms, and Italy with fears
of many days' duration, in order that you might show yourself unexpectedly, and
that a woman might see you before she hoped to do so? And he had at home a pretense of love; but out of doors a
cause more discreditable still, namely, lest Lucius Plancus should sell up his
sureties, But after you had been produced in the assembly by one of the tribunes
of the people, and had replied that you had come on your own private business,
you made even the people full of jokes against you. But, however, we have said
too much about trifles. Let us come to more important subjects.
You went a great distance to meet Caesar on his return from Spain. You went rapidly, you returned rapidly,
in order that we might see that, if you were not brave, you were at least
active. You again became intimate with him; I am sure I do not know how. Caesar
had this peculiar characteristic; whoever he knew to be utterly ruined by debt,
and needy, even if he knew him also to be an audacious and worthless man, he
willingly admitted him to his intimacy. You then, being admirably recommended to
him by these circumstances, were ordered to be appointed consul, and that too as
his own colleague. I do not make any
complaint against Dolabella, who was at that time acting under compulsion, and
was cajoled and deceived, But who is there who does not know with what great
perfidy both of you treated Dolabella in that business? Caesar induced him to
stand for the consulship. After having promised it to him, and pledged himself
to aid him, he prevented his getting it, and transferred it to himself. And you
endorsed his treachery with your own eagerness.
The first of January arrives. We are convened in the senate. Dolabella inveighed
against him with much more fluency and premeditation than I am doing now.
And what things were they which he said
in his anger, O ye good gods! First of all, after Caesar had declared that
before he departed he would order Dolabella to be made consul (and they deny
that he was a king who was always doing and saying something of this
sort).—but after Caesar had said this, then this virtuous augur said
that he was invested with a pontificate of that sort that he was able, by means
of the auspices, either to hinder or to vitiate the comitia, just as he pleased; and he declared that he would do so.
And here, in the first place, remark the
incredible stupidity of the man. For what do you mean? Could you not just as
well have done what you said you had now the power to do by the privileges with
which that pontificate had invested you, even if you were not an augur, if you
were consul? Perhaps you could even do it more easily. For we augurs have only
the power of announcing that the auspices are being observed, but the consuls
and other magistrates have the right also of observing them whenever they
choose. Be it so. You said this out of ignorance. For one must not demand
prudence from a man who is never sober. But still remark his impudence. Many
months before, he said in the senate that he would either prevent the comitia from assembling for the election of Dolabella by
means of the auspices, or that he would do what he actually did do. Can any one
divine beforehand what defect there will be in the auspices, except the man who
has already determined to observe the heavens? which in the first place it is
forbidden by law to do at the time of the comitia.
And if any one has; been observing the heavens, he is bound to give notice of
it, not after the comitia are assembled, but before
they are held. But this man's ignorance is joined to impudence, nor does he know
what an augur ought to know, nor do what a modest man ought to do. And just recollect the whole of his conduct during
his consulship from that day up to the ides of March. What lictor was ever so
humble, so abject? He himself had no power at all; he begged every thing of
others; and thrusting his head into the hind part of his litter, he begged
favors of his colleagues, to sell them himself afterward.
Behold, the day of the comitia for the election of
Dolabella arrives The prerogative century draws its lot. He is quiet. The vote
is declared; he is still silent. The first class is called.There seems some corruption here. Orellius apparently thinks the case
hopeless. Its vote is declared. Then, as is the usual course, the
votes are announced. Then the second class. And all this is done faster than I
have told it. When the business is over, that excellent augur (you would say he
must be Caius Laelius) says,—“We adjourn it to another
day.” Oh the monstrous impudence of
such a proceeding! What had you seen? what had you perceived? what had you
heard? For you did not say that you had been observing the heavens, and indeed
you do not say so this day. That defect then has arisen, which you on the first
of January had already foreseen would arise, and which you had predicted so long
before. Therefore, in truth, you have made a false declaration respecting the
auspices, to your own great misfortune, I hope, rather than to that of the
republic. You laid the Roman people under the obligations of religion; you as
augurs interrupted an augur; you as consul interrupted a consul by a false
declaration concerning the auspices.
I will say no more, lest I should seem to be pulling to pieces the acts of
Dolabella; which must inevitably sometime or other be brought before our
college. But take notice of the arrogance and
insolence of the fellow. As long as you please, Dolabella is a consul
irregularly elected; again, while you please, he is a consul elected with all
proper regard to the auspices. If it means nothing when an augur gives this
notice in those words in which you gave notice, then confess that you, when you
said,—“We adjourn this to another
day,”—were not sober. But if those words have any meaning,
then I, an augur, demand of my colleague to know what that meaning is.
But, lest by any chance, while enumerating his numerous exploits, our speech
should pass over the finest action of Marcus Antonius, let us come to the
Lupercalia.
He does not dissemble, O conscript fathers; it is plain that he is agitated; he
perspires; he turns pale. Let him do what he pleases, provided he is not sick,
and does not behave as be did in the Minucian colonnade. What defence can be
made for such beastly behaviour? I wish to hear, that I may see the fruit of
those high wages of that rhetorician, of that land given in Leontini. Your colleague was sitting in the rostra, clothed in
purple robe, on a golden chair, wearing a crown. You mount the steps; you
approach his chair, (if you were a priest of Pan, you ought to have recollected
that you were consul too;) you display a diadem; There is a groan over the whole
forum. Where did the diadem come from? For you had not picked it up when lying
on the ground, but you had brought it from home with you, a premeditated and
deliberately planned wickedness. You placed the diadem on his head amid the
groans of the people; he rejected it amid great applause. You then alone, O
wicked man, were found both to advise the assumption of kingly power, and to
wish to have him for your master who was your colleague and also to try what the
Roman people might be able to bear and to endure. Moreover, you even sought to move his pity; you threw
yourself at his feet as a suppliant; begging for what? to be a slave? You might
beg it for yourself, when you had lived in such a way from the time that you
were a boy that you could bear everything, and would find no difficulty in being
a slave; but certainly you had no commission from the Roman people to try for
such a thing for them.
Oh how splendid was that eloquence of yours, when you harangued the people stark
naked! what could be more foul than this? more shameful than this? more
deserving of every sort of punishment? Are you waiting for me to prick you more?
This that I am saying must tear you and bring blood enough if you have any
feeling at all. I am afraid that I may be detracting from the glory of some most
eminent men. Still my indignation shall find a voice. What can be more
scandalous than for that man to live who placed a diadem on a man's head, when
every one confesses that that man was deservedly slain who rejected it?
And, moreover, he caused it to be
recorded in the annals, under the head of Lupercalia, “That Marcus
Antonius, the consul, by command of the people, had offered the kingdom to Caius
Caesar, perpetual dictator; and that Caesar had refused to accept it.”
I now am not much surprised at your seeking to disturb the general tranquillity;
at your hating not only the city but the light of day; and at your living with a
pack of abandoned robbers, disregarding the day, and yet regarding nothing
beyond the day.The Latin is, “non solum de die, sed etiam in diem vivere;” which
the commentators explain “De die is
to feast every day and all day. Banquets de die
are those which begin before the regular hour.” (Like Horace's
Partem solido demere de die.) “To
live in diem is to live as so as to have no
thought for the future.”—Graevius. For where can
you be safe in peace? What place can there be for you where laws and courts of
justice have sway, both of which you, as far as in you lay, destroyed by the
substitution of kingly power? Was it for this that Lucius Tarquinius was driven
out; that Spurius Cassius, and Spurius Maelius, and Marcus Manlius were slain;
that many years afterwards a king might be established at Rome by Marcus Antonius though the bare idea
was impiety? How ever, let us return to the auspices.
With respect to all the things which Caesar was intending to do in the senate on
the ides of March, I ask whether you have done any thing? I heard, indeed, that
you had come down prepared, because you thought that I intended to speak about
your having made a false statement respecting the auspices, though it was still
necessary for us to respect them. The fortune of the Roman people saved us from
that day. Did the death of Caesar also put an end to your opinion respecting the
auspices? But I have come to mention that occasion which must be allowed to
precede those matters which I had begun to discuss. What a flight was that of
yours! What alarm was yours on that memorable day! How, from the consciousness
of your wickedness, did you despair of your life! How, while flying, were you
enabled secretly to get home by the kindness of those men who wished to save
you, thinking you would show more sense than you do! O how vain have at all times been my too true predictions
of the future! I told those deliverers of ours in the Capitol, when they wished
me to go to you to exhort you to defend the republic, that as long as you were
in fear you would promise every thing, but that as soon as you had emancipated
yourself from alarm you would be yourself again. Therefore, while the rest of
the men of consular rank were going backward and forward to you, I adhered to my
opinion, nor did I see you at all that day, or the next; nor did I think it
possible for an alliance between virtuous citizens and a most unprincipled enemy
to be made, so as to last, by any treaty or engagement whatever. The third day I
came into the temple of Tellus, even then very much against my will, as armed
men were blockading all the approaches. What
a day was that for you, O Marcus Antonius! Although you showed yourself all on a
sudden an enemy to me; still I pity you for having envied yourself.
What a man, O ye immortal gods! and how great a man might you have been, if you
had been able to preserve the inclination you displayed that day;—we
should still have peace which was made then by the pledge of a hostage, a boy of
noble birth, the grandson of Marcus Bamballo. Although it was fear that was then
making you a good citizen, which is never a lasting teacher of duty; your own
audacity, which never departs from you as long as you are free from fear, has
made you a worthless one. Although even at that time, when they thought you an
excellent man, though I indeed differed from that opinion, you behaved with the
greatest wickedness while presiding at the funeral of the tyrant, if that ought
to be called a funeral. All that fine
panegyric was yours, that commiseration was yours, that exhortation was yours.
It was you—you, I say—who hurled those firebrands, both
those with which your friend himself was nearly burned, and those by which the
house of Lucius Bellienus was set on fire and destroyed. It was you who let
loose those attacks of abandoned men, slaves for the most part, which we
repelled by violence and our own personal exertions; it was you who set them on
to attack our houses. And yet you, as if you had wiped off all the soot and
smoke in the ensuing days, carried those excellent resolutions in the Capitol,
that no document conferring any exemption, or granting any favor, should he
published after the ides of March. You recollect yourself, what you said about
the exiles; you know what you said about the exemption; but the best thing of
all was, that you forever abolished the name of the dictatorship in the
republic. Which act appeared to show that you had conceived such a hatred of
kingly power that you took away all fear of it for the future, on account of him
who had been the last dictator.
To other men the republic now seemed established, but it did not appear so at all
to me, as I was afraid of every sort of shipwreck, as long as you were at the
helm. Have I been deceived? or, was it possible for that man long to continue
unlike himself? While you were all looking on, documents were fixed up over the
whole Capitol, and exemptions were being sold, not merely to individuals, but to
entire states. The freedom of the city was also being given now not to single
persons only, but to whole provinces. Therefore, if these acts are to
stand,—and stand they can not if the republic stands
too,—then, O conscript fathers, you have lost whole provinces; and not
the revenues only, but the actual empire of the Roman people has been diminished
by a market this man held in his own house.
Where are the seven hundred millions of sesterces which were entered in the
account-books which are in the temple of Ops? a sum lamentable indeed, as to the
means by which it was procured, but still one which, if it were not restored to
those to whom it belonged, might save us from taxes. And how was it, that when
you owed forty millions of sesterces on the fifteenth of March, you had ceased
to owe them by the first of April? Those things are quite countless which were
purchased of different people, not without your knowledge; but there was one
excellent decree posted up in the Capitol affecting king Deiotarus, a most
devoted friend to the Roman people. And when that decree was posted up, there
was no one who, amid all his indignation, could restrain his laughter.
For who ever was a more bitter enemy to
another than Caesar was to Deiotarus? He was as hostile to him as he was to this
order, to the equestrian order, to the people of Massilia, and to all men whom he knew to look on the republic
of the Roman people with attachment. But this man, who neither present nor
absent could ever obtain from him any favor or justice while he was alive,
became quite an influential man with him when he was dead. When present with him
in his house, he had called for him though he was his host, he had made him give
in his accounts of his revenue, he had exacted money from him; he had
established one of his Greek retainers in his tetrarchy, and he had taken
Armenia from him, which had been
given to him by the senate. While he was alive he deprived him of all these
things; now that he is dead, he gives them back again. And in what words? At one time he says, “that it
appears to him to be just,...” at another, “that it appears
not to be unjust...” What a strange combination of words! But while
alive (I know this, for I always supported Deiotarus, who was at a distance), he
never said that anything which we were asking for, for him, appeared just to
him. A bond for ten millions of sesterces was entered into in the women's
apartment (where many things have been sold, and are still being sold), by his
ambassadors, well-meaning men, but timid and inexperienced in business, without
my advice or that of the rest of the hereditary friends of the monarch. And I
advise you to consider carefully what you intend to do with reference to. this
bond. For the king himself, of his own accord, without. waiting for any of
Caesar's memoranda, the moment that her heard of his death, recovered his own
rights by his own courage and energy. He,
like a wise man, knew that this was always the law, that those men from whom the
things which tyrants had taken away had been taken, might recover them when the
tyrants were slain. No lawyer, therefore, not even he who is your lawyer and
yours alone, and by whose advice you do all these things, will say that any
thing is due to you by virtue of that bond for those things which had been
recovered before that bond was executed. For he did not purchase them of you;
but, before you undertook to sell him his own property, be had taken possession
of it. He was a man—we, indeed, deserve to be despised, who hate the
author of the actions, but uphold the actions themselves.
Why need I mention the countless mass of papers, the innumerable autographs which
have been brought forward? writings of which there are imitators who sell their
forgeries as openly as if they were gladiators playbills. Therefore, there are
now such heaps of money piled up in that man's house, that it is weighed out
instead of being counted.This accidental resemblance to the
incident in the “Forty Thieves” in the
“Arabian Nights” is curious. But bow blind is
avarice! Lately, too, a document has been posted up by which the most wealthy
cities of the Cretans are released from tribute; and by which it is ordained
that after the expiration of the consulship of Marcus Brutus, Crete shall cease to be a province. Are you in
your senses.? Ought you not to be put in confinement? Was it possible for there
really to be a decree of Caesar's exempting Crete after the departure of Marcus. Brutus, when Brutus had no
connection whatever with Crete while
Caesar was alive? But by the sale of this decree (that you may not, O conscript
fathers, think it wholly ineffectual) you have lost the province of Crete. There was nothing in the whole world
which any one wanted to buy that this fellow was not ready to sell.
Caesar too, I suppose, made the law about the exiles which you have posted up. I
do not wish to press upon any one in misfortune; I only complain, in the first
place, that the return of those men has had discredit thrown upon it, whose
cause Caesar judged to be different from that of the rest; and in the second
place, I do not know why you do not mete out the same measure to all. For there
can not be more than three or four left. Why do not they who are in similar
misfortune enjoy a similar degree of your mercy? Why do you treat them as you
treated your uncle? about whom you refused to pass a law when you were passing
one about all the rest; and whom at the same time you encouraged to stand for
the censorship, and instigated him to a canvass, which excited the ridicule and
the complaint of every one.
But why did you not hold that comitia? Was it
because a tribune of the people announced that there had been an ill-omened
flash of lightning seen? When you have any interest of your own to serve, then
auspices are all nothing; but when it is only your friends who are concerned,
then you become scrupulous. What more? Did you not also desert him in the matter
of the septemvirate?The septemviri, at full length septemviri
epulones or epulonum, were
originally triumviri. They were first created
A. C. 198, to attend to the epulum Jovis, and the banquets given in honour of the other
gods, which duty had originally belonged to the pontifices. Julius Caesar
added three more, but that alteration did not last. They formed a collegium, and were one of the four great religious
corporations at Rome with the
pontifices, the augures, and the quindecemviri.
Smith, Dict. Ant. v. Epulones.
“Yes, for he interfered with me.” What were you afraid of? I
suppose you were afraid that you would be able to refuse him nothing if he were
restored to the full possession of his rights. You loaded him with every species
of insult, a man whom you ought to have considered in the place of a father to
you, if you had had any piety or natural affection at all, You put away his
daughter, your own cousin, having already looked out and provided yourself
beforehand with another. That was not enough. You accused a most chaste woman of
misconduct. What can go beyond this? Yet you were not content with this. In a
very full senate held on the first of January, while your uncle was present, you
dared to say that this was your reason for hatred of Dolabella, that you had
ascertained that he had committed adultery with your cousin and your wife, Who
can decide whether it was more shameless of you to make such profligate and such
impious statements against that unhappy woman in the senate, or more wicked to
make them against Dolabella, or more scandalous to make them in the presence of
her father, or more cruel to make them at all?
However, let us return to the subject of Caesar's written papers. How were they
verified by you? For the acts of Caesar were for peace's sake confirmed by the
senate; that is to say, the acts which Caesar had really done, not those which
Antonius said that Caesar had done. Where do all these come from? By whom are
they produced and vouched for? If they are false, why are they ratified? If they
are true, why are they sold? But the vote which was come to enjoined you, after
the first of June, to make an examination of Caesar's acts with the assistance
of a council. What council did you consult? whom did you ever invite to help
you? what was the first of June that you waited for? Was it that day on which
you, having traveled all through the colonies where the veterans were settled,
returned escorted by a band of armed men?
Oh what a splendid progress of yours was that in the months of April and May,
when you attempted even to lead a colony to Capua! How you made your escape from thence, or rather how you
barely made your escape, we all know. And
now you are still threatening that city. I wish you would try, and we should not
then be forced to say “barely.” However, what a splendid
progress of yours that was! Why need I mention your preparations for banquets,
why your frantic hard drinking? Those things are only an injury to yourself;
these are injuries to us. We thought that a great blow was inflicted on the
republic when the Campanian district was released from the payment of taxes, in
order to be given to the soldiery; but you have divided it among your partners
in drunkenness and gambling. I tell you, O conscript fathers, that a lot of
buffoons and actresses have been settled in the district of Campania. Why should I now complain of what
has been done in the district of Leontini? Although formerly these lands of
Campania and Leontini were
considered part of the patrimony of the Roman people, and were productive of
great revenue, and very fertile. You gave your physician three thousand acres;
what would you have done if he had cured you? and two thousand to your master of
oratory; what would you have done if he had been able to make you eloquent?
However, let us return to your progress, and to Italy.
You led a colony to Casilinum, a place
to which Caesar had previously led one. You did indeed consult me by letter
about the colony of Capua (but I
should have given you the same answer about Casilinum), whether you could legally lead a new colony to a
place where there was a colony already. I said that a new colony could not be
legally conducted to an existing colony, which had been established with a due
observance of the auspices, as long as it remained in a flourishing state; but I
wrote you word that new colonists might be enrolled among the old ones. But you,
elated and insolent, disregarding all the respect due to the auspices, led a
colony to Casilinum, whither one had
been previously led a few years before; in order to erect your standard there,
and to mark out the line of the new colony with a plow. And by that plow you
almost grazed the gate of Capua, so
as to diminish the territory of that flourishing colony. After this violation of all religious observances, you
hasten off to the estate of Marcus Varro, a most conscientious and upright man,
at Casinum. By what right? with
what face do you do this? By just the same, you will say, as that by which you
entered on the estates of the heirs of Lucius Rubrius, or of the heirs of Lucius
Turselius, or of other innumerable possessions. If you got the right from any
auction, let the auction have all the force to which it is entitled; let
writings be of force, provided they are the writings of Caesar, and not your
own; writings by which you are bound, not those by which you have released
yourself from obligation.
But who says that the estate of Varro at Casinum was ever sold at all? who ever saw any notice of that
auction? who ever heard the voice of the auctioneer? You say that you sent a man
to Alexandria to buy it of
Caesar. It was too long to wait for Caesar himself to come! But who ever heard
(and there was no man about whose safety more people were anxious) that any part
whatever of Varro's property had been confiscated? What? what shall we say if
Caesar even wrote you that you were to give it up? What can be said strong
enough for such enormous impudence? Remove for a while those swords which we see
around us. You shall now see that the cause of Caesar's auctions is one thing
and that of your confidence and rashness is another. For not only shall the
owner drive you from that estate, but any one of his friends, or neighbors, or
hereditary connections, and any agent, will have the right to do so.
But how many days did he spend reveling in the most scandalous manner in that
villa! From the third hour there was one scene of drinking, gambling, and
vomiting. Alas for the unhappy house itself! how different a master from its
former one has it fallen to the share of! Although, how is he the master at all?
but still by how different a person has it been occupied! For Marcus Varro used
it as a place of retirement for his studies, not as a theatre for his lusts.
What noble discussions used to take
place in that villa! what ideas were originated there! what writings were
composed there! The laws of the Roman people, the memorials of our ancestors,
the consideration of all wisdom and all learning, were the topics that used to
be dwelt on then;—but now, while you were the intruder there (for I
will not call you the master), every place was resounding with the voices of
drunken men; the pavements were floating with wine; the walls were dripping;
nobly-born boys were mixing with the basest hirelings; prostitutes with mothers
of families. Men came from Casinum,
from Aquinum, from Interamna to salute him. No one was admitted.
That, indeed, was proper. For the ordinary marks of respect were unsuited to the
most profligate of men. When going from
thence to Rome he approached
Aquinum, a pretty numerous
company (for it is a populous municipality) came out to meet him. But he was
carried through the town in a covered litter, as if he had been dead. The people
of Aquinum acted foolishly, no
doubt; but still they were in his road. What did the people of Anagnia do? who, although they were out of
his line of road, came down to meet him, in order to pay him their respects, as
if he were consul. It is an incredible thing to say, but still it was only too
notorious at the time, that he returned nobody's salutation; especially as he
had two men of Anagnia with him,
Mustela and Laco; one of whom had the care of his swords, and the other of his
drinking-cups.
Why should I mention the threats and insults
with which he inveighed against the people of Teanum Sidicinum, with which he
harassed the men of Puteoli,
because they had adopted Caius Cassius and the Bruti as their patrons? a choice
dictated, in truth, by great wisdom, and great zeal, benevolence, and affection
for them; not by violence and force of arms, by which men have been compelled to
choose you, and Basilus, and others like you both,—men whom no one
would choose to have for his own clients, much less to be their client himself.
In the mean time, while you yourself were absent, what a day was that for your
colleague when he overturned that tomb in the forum, which you were accustomed
to regard with veneration! And when that action was announced to you,
you—as is agreed upon by all who were with you at the
time—fainted away. What happened afterward I know not. I imagine that
terror and arms got the mastery. At all events, you dragged your colleague down
from his heaven; and you rendered him, not even now like yourself, at all events
very unlike his own former self.
After that what a return was that of yours to Rome! How great was the agitation of the whole city! We
recollected Cinna being too powerful; after him we had seen Sulla with absolute
authority, and we had lately beheld Caesar acting as king. There were perhaps
swords, but they were sheathed, and they were not very numerous. But how great
and how barbaric a procession is yours! Men follow you in battle array with
drawn swords; we see whole litters full of shields borne along. And yet by
custom, O conscript fathers, we have become inured and callous to these things,
When on the first of June we wished to come to the senate, as it had been
ordained, we were suddenly frightened and forced to flee. But he, as having no need of a senate, did not miss any of
us, and rather rejoiced at our departure, and immediately proceeded to those
marvelous exploits of his. He who had defended the memoranda of Caesar for the
sake of his own profit, overturned the laws of Caesar—and good laws
too—for the sake of being able to agitate the republic. He increased
the number of years that magistrates were to enjoy their provinces; moreover,
though he was bound to be the defender of the acts of Caesar, he rescinded them
both with reference to public and private transactions.
In public transactions nothing is more authoritative than law; in private affairs
the most valid of all deeds is a will. Of the laws, some he abolished without
giving the least notice; others he gave notice of bills to abolish. Wills he
annulled; though they have been at all times held sacred even in the case of the
very meanest of the citizens. As for the statues and pictures which Caesar
bequeathed to the people, together with his gardens, those he carried away, some
to the house which belonged to Pompeius, and some to Scipio's villa.
And are you then diligent in doing honor to Caesar's memory? Do you love him even
now that he is dead? What greater honor had he obtained than that of having a
holy cushion, an image, a temple, and a priest? As then Jupiter, and Mars, and Quirinus have priests,
so Marcus. Antonius is the priest of the god Julius. Why then do you delay? why
are not you inaugurated? Choose a day; select some one to inaugurate you; we are
colleagues; no one will refuse. O you detestable man, whether you are the priest
of a tyrant, or of a dead man! I ask you then, whether you are ignorant what day
this is? Are you ignorant that yesterday was the fourth day of the Roman games
in the Circus? and that you yourself submitted a motion to the people, that a
fifth day should be added besides, in honor of Caesar? Why are we not all clad
in the praetexta? Why are we permitting the honor which by your law was
appointed for Caesar to be deserted? Had you no objection to so holy a day being
polluted by the addition of supplications, while you did not choose it to be so
by the addition of ceremonies connected with a sacred cushion? Either take away
religion in every case, or preserve it in every case.
You will ask whether I approve of his having
a sacred cushion, a temple and a priest? I approve of none of those things. But
you, who are defending the acts of Caesar, what reason can you give for
defending some, and disregarding others? unless, indeed, you choose to admit
that you measure every thing by your own gain, and not by his dignity. What will
you now reply to these arguments—(for I am waiting to witness your
eloquence; I knew your grandfather, who was a most eloquent man, but I know you
to be a more undisguised speaker than he was; he never harangued the people
naked; but we have seen your breast, man, without disguise as you are)? Will you
make any reply to these statements? will you dare to open your mouth at all? Can
you find one single article in this long speech of mine, to which you trust that
you can make any answer? However, we will say no more of what is past.
But this single day, this very day that now is, this very moment while I am
speaking, defend your conduct during this very moment, if you can. Why has the
senate been surrounded with a belt of armed men? Why are your satellites
listening to me sword in hand? Why are not the folding-doors of the temple of
Concord open? Why do you bring men of all nations the most barbarous, Ityrcans,
armed with arrows, into the forum? He says that he does so as a guard. Is it not
then better to perish a thousand times than to be unable to live in one's own
city without a guard of armed men? But believe me, there is no protection in
that;—a man must be defended by the affection and good will of his
fellow-citizens, not by arms. The Roman
people will take them from you, will wrest them from ) our hands. I wish that
they may do so while we are still safe. But however you treat us, as long as you
adopt those counsels it is impossible for you, believe me, to last long. In
truth, that wife of yours, who is so far removed from covetousness, and whom I
mention without intending any slight to her, has been too long owingIt has been explained before that Fulvia had been the widow
of Clodius and of Curio, before she married Antonius. her third
payment to the state. The Roman people has men to whom it can entrust the helm
of the state; and wherever they are, there is all the defense of the republic,
or rather, there is the republic itself; which as yet has only avenged, but has
not reestablished itself. Truly and surely has the republic most high-born
youths ready to defend it,—though they may for a time keep in the
background from a desire for tranquillity, still they can be recalled by the
republic at any time.
The name of peace is sweet, the thing itself is most salutary. But between peace
and slavery there is a wide difference. Peace is liberty in tranquillity;
slavery is the worst of all evils,—to be repelled, if need be, not
only by war, but even by death. But if those
deliverers of ours have taken themselves away out of our sight, still they have
left behind the example of their conduct. They have done what no one else had
done. Brutus pursued Tarquinius with
war; who was a king when it was lawful for a king to exist in Rome. Spurius Cassius, Spurius. Maelius, and
Marcus.Manlius were all slain because
they were suspected of aiming at regal power. These are the first men who have
ever ventured to attack, sword in hand, a man who was not aiming at regal power,
but actually reigning. And their action is not only of itself a glorious and
godlike exploit, but it is also one put forth for our imitation; especially
since by it they have acquired such glory as appears hardly to be bounded by
heaven itself. For although in the very consciousness of a glorious action there
is a certain reward, still I do not consider immortality of glory a thing to be
despised by one who is himself mortal.
Recollect then, O Marcus Antonius, that day on which you abolished the
dictatorship. Set before you the joy of the senate and people of Rome; compare it with this infamous market
held by you and by your friends; and then you will understand how great is the
difference between praise and profit. But in truth, just as some people, through
some disease which has blunted the senses, have no conception of the niceness of
food, so men who are lustful, avaricious, and criminal, have no taste for true
glory. But if praise can not allure you to act rightly, still can not even fear
turn you away from the most shameful actions? You are not afraid of the courts
of justice. If it is because you are innocent, I praise you; if because you
trust in your power of overbearing them by violence, are you ignorant of what
that man has to fear, who on such an account as that does not fear the courts of
justice?
But if you are not afraid of brave men and illustrious citizens, because they are
prevented from attacking you by your armed retinue, still, believe me, your own
fellows will not long endure you. And what a life is it, day and night to be
fearing danger from one's own people! Unless, indeed, you have men who are bound
to you by greater kindnesses than some of those men by whom he was slain were
bound to Caesar; or unless there are points in which you can be compared with
him.
In that man were combined genius, method, memory, literature, prudence,
deliberation, and industry. He had performed exploits in war which, though
calamitous for the republic, were nevertheless mighty deeds. Having for many
years aimed at being a king, he had with great labor, and much personal danger,
accomplished what he intended. He had conciliated the ignorant multitude by
presents, by monuments, by largesses of food, and by banquets; he had bound his
own party to him by rewards, his adversaries by the appearances of clemency. Why
need I say much on such a subject? He had already brought a free city, partly by
fear, partly by patience, into a habit of slavery.
With him I can, indeed, compare you as to your desire to reign; but in all other
respects you are in no degree to be compared to him. But from the many evils
which by him have been burned into the republic, there is still this good, that
the Roman people has now learned how much to believe every one, to whom to trust
itself, and against whom to guard. Do you never think on these things? And do
you not understand that it is enough for brave men to have learned how noble a
thing it is as to the act, how grateful it is as to the benefit done, how
glorious as to the fame acquired, to slay a tyrant? When men could not bear him, do you think they will bear
you? Believe me, the time will come when men will race with one another to do
this deed, and when no one will wait for the tardy arrival of an opportunity.
Consider, I beg you, Marcus Antonius, do some time or other consider the
republic: think of the family of which you are born, not of the men with whom
you are living. Be reconciled to the republic. However, do you decide on your
conduct. As to mine, I myself will declare what that shall be. I defended the
republic as a young man, I will not abandon it now that I am old. I scorned the
sword of Catiline, I will not quail before yours. No, I will rather cheerfully
expose my own person, if the liberty of the city can her restored by my death.
May the indignation of the Roman people at last bring forth what it has been so
long laboring with. In truth, if twenty years ago in this very temple I asserted
that death could not come prematurely upon a man of consular rank, with how much
more truth must I now say the same of an old man? To me, indeed, O conscript
fathers, death is now even desirable, after all the honors which I have gained,
and the deeds which I have done. I only pray for these two things: one, that
dying I may leave the Roman people free. No greater boon than this can be
granted me by the immortal gods. The other, that every one may meet with a fate
suitable to his deserts and conduct toward the republic.
THE THIRD PHILIPPIC, OR THIRD SPEECH OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS.
THE ARGUMENT.
After the composition of the last speech, Octavius, considering that he had
reason to be offended with Antonius, formed a plot for his assassination by
means of some slaves, which however was discovered. In the meantime,
Antonius began to declare more and more openly against the conspirators. He
erected a statue in the forum to Caesar, with the inscription, “To
the most worthy Defender of his Country.” Octavius, at the same
time, was trying to win over the soldiers of his uncle Julius, and outbidding Antonius in all his
promises to them, so that he soon collected a formidable army of veterans.
But as he had no public office to give him any color for his conduct, he
paid great court to the republican party, in hopes to get his proceedings
authorized by the senate; and he kept continually pressing Cicero to return
to Rome and support him. Cicero,
however, for some time kept also suspecting partly his abilities, on account
of his exceeding youth and partly his sincerity in reconciling himself to
his uncle's murderers, however, at last he returned, after expressly
stipulating that Octavius should employ all his forces in defense of
Brutus and his accomplices
Antonius left Rome about the end of
September, in order to engage in his service four legions of Caesar's, which
were on their return from Macedonia. But when they arrived at Brundusium three of them refused to follow
him, on which he murdered all their centurions, to the number of three
hundred, who were all put to death in his lodgings in the sight of himself
and Fulvia his wife, and then returned to Rome with the one legion which he had prevailed on while
the other three legions declared as yet for neither party. On his arrival in
Rome he published many very
violent edicts, and summoned the senate to meet on the twenty-fourth of
October, then he adjourned it to the twenty eighth; and a day or two before
it met, he heard that two out of the three legions had declared for
Octavius, and encamped at Alba. And this news alarmed him so much, that he
abandoned his intention of proposing to the senate a decree to declare
Octavius a public enemy and after distributing some provinces among his
friends, he put on his military robes, and left the city to take possession
of Cisalpine Gaul which had been assigned to him by a pretended law of the
people' against the will of the senate.
On the news of his departure Cicero returned to Rome, where he arrived on the ninth of December. He
immediately conferred with Pansa one of the consuls elect (Hirtius his
colleague was ill) as to the measures to be taken. He was again addressed
with earnest solicitations by the friends of Octavius, who, to confirm his
belief in his good intentions, allowed Casca, who had been of the slayers of
Caesar and had himself given him the first blow, to enter on his office as
tribune of the people on the tenth of December.
The new tribunes convoked the senate for the nineteenth on which occasion
Cicero had intended to be absent but receiving the day before the edict of
Decimus Brutus, by which he forbade Antonius to enter his province
(immediately after the death of Caesar he had taken possession of Cisalpine
Gaul, which had been conferred on him by Caesar) and declared that he would
defend it against him by force and preserve it in its duty to the senate, he
thought it necessary to procure for Brutus a resolution of the senate in his
favor. He went down therefore very early, and, in a very full house,
delivered the following speech.
We have been assembled at length, O conscript fathers, altogether later than the
necessities of the republic required, but still we are assembled, a measure
which I indeed have been every day demanding, inasmuch as I saw that a nefarious
war against our altars and our hearths, against our lives and our fortunes,
wars, I will not say being prepared but being actually waged by a profligate and
desperate man. People are waiting for the first of January. But Antonius is not
waiting for that day, who is now attempting with an army to invade the province
of Decimus Brutus a most illustrious and excellent man. And when he has procured
reinforcements and equipments there, he threatens that he will come to this
city. What is the use then of waiting, or of
even a delay for the very shortest time? For although the first of January is at
hand, still a short time is a long one for people who are not prepared. For a
day, or I should rather say an hour, often brings great disasters, if no
precautions are taken. And it is not usual to wait for a fixed day for holding a
council, as it is for celebrating a festival. But if the first of January had
fallen on the day when Antonius first fled from the city, or if people had not
waited for it, we should by this time have no war at all, For we should easily
have crushed the audacity of that frantic man by the authority of the senate and
the unanimity of the Roman people. And now, indeed, I feel confident that the
consuls elect will do so, as soon as they enter on their magistracy. For they
are men of the highest courage, of the most consummate wisdom, and they will act
in perfect harmony with each other. But my exhortations to rapid and instant
action are prompted by a desire not merely for victory, but for speedy victory.
For how long are we to trust to the prudence
of an individual to repel so important, so cruel, and so nefarious a war? Why is
not the public authority thrown into the scale as quickly as possible?
Caius Caesar, a young man, or, I should rather say, almost a boy, embued with an
incredible and godlike degree of wisdom and valor, at the time when the frenzy
of Antonius was at its height, and when his cruel and mischievous return from
Brundusium was an object of
apprehension to all, while we neither desired him to do so, nor thought of such
a measure, nor ventured even to wish it (because it did not seem practicable),
collected a most trustworthy army from the invincible body of veteran soldiers,
and has spent his own patrimony in doing so. Although I have not used the
expression which I ought,—for he has not spent it,—he has
invested it in the safety of the republic.
And although it is not possible to requite him with all the thanks to which he is
entitled, still we ought to feel all the gratitude toward him which our minds
are capable of conceiving. For who is so ignorant of public affairs, so entirely
indifferent to all thoughts of the republic, as not to see that, if Marcus
Antonius could have come with those forces which he made sure that he should
have, from Brundusium to come,
as he threatened, there would have been no description of cruelty which he would
not have practiced? A man who in the house of his entertainer at Brundusium ordered so many most gallant
men and virtuous citizens to be murdered, and whose wife's face was notoriously
besprinkled with the blood of men dying at his and her feet. Who is there of us,
or what good man is there at all, whom a man stained with this barbarity would
ever have spared; especially as he was coming hither much more angry with all
virtuous men than he had been with those whom he had massacred there? And from this calamity Caesar has delivered the
republic by his own individual prudence (and, indeed, there were no other means
by which it could have been done). And if he had not been born in this republic
we should, owing to the wickedness of Antonius, now have no republic at all.
For this is what I believe, this is my deliberate opinion, that if that one young
man had not checked the violence and inhuman projects of that frantic man, the
republic would have been utterly destroyed. And to him we must, O conscript
fathers (for this is the first time, met in such a condition, that, owing to his
good service, we are at liberty to say freely what we think and feel), we must,
I say, this day give authority, so that he may be able to defend the republic,
not because that defense has been voluntarily undertaken by him, but also
because it has been entrusted to him by us.
Nor (since now after a long interval we are allowed to speak concerning the
republic) is it possible for us to be silent about the Martial legion. For what
single man has ever been braver, what single man has ever been more devoted to
the republic than the whole of the Martial legion? which, as soon as it had
decided that Marcus Antonius was an enemy of the Roman people, refused to be a
companion of his insanity; deserted him though consul; which, in truth, it would
not have done if it had considered him as consul, who, as it saw, was aiming at
nothing and preparing nothing but the slaughter of the citizens, and the
destruction of the state. And that legion has encamped at Alba. What city could
it have selected either more suitable for enabling it to act, or more faithful,
or full of more gallant men, or of citizens more devoted to the republic?
The fourth legion, imitating the virtue of this legion, under the leadership of
Lucius Egnatuleius, the quaestor, a most virtuous and intrepid citizen, has also
acknowledged the authority and joined the army of Caius Caesar.
We, therefore, O conscript fathers, must take care that those things which this
most illustrious young man, this most excellent of all men has of his own accord
done, and still is doing, be sanctioned by our authority; and the admirable
unanimity of the veterans, those most brave men, and of the Martial and of the
fourth legion, in their zeal for the reestablishment of the republic, be
encouraged by our praise and commendation. And let us pledge ourselves this day
that their advantage, and honors, and rewards shall he cared for by us as soon
as the consuls elect have entered in their magistracy.
And the things which I have said about Caesar and about his army, are, indeed,
already well known to you. For by the admirable valor of Caesar, and by the
firmness of the veteran soldiers, and by the admirable discernment of those
legions which have followed our authority, and the liberty of the Roman people,
and the valor of Caesar, Antonius has been repelled from his attempts upon our
lives. But these things, as I have said, happened before; but this recent edict
of Decimus Brutus, which has just been issued, can certainly not be passed over
in silence. For he promises to preserve the province of Gaul in obedience to the senate and people of
Rome. O citizen, born for the
republic; mindful of the name he bears; imitator of his ancestors! Nor, indeed,
was the acquisition of liberty so much an object of desire to our ancestors when
Tarquinius was expelled, as, now that Antonius is driven away, the preservation
of it is to us. Those men had learned to obey
kings ever since the foundation of the city, but we from the time when the kings
were driven out have forgotten how to be slaves. And that Tarquinius, whom our
ancestors expelled, was not either considered or called cruel or impious, but
only The Proud. That vice which we have often borne in private individuals, our
ancestors could not endure even in a king.
Lucius Brutus could not endure a proud king. Shall Decimus Brutus submit to the
kingly power of a man who is wicked and impious? What atrocity did Tarquinius
ever commit equal to the innumerable acts of the sort which Antonius has done
and is still doing? Again, the kings were used to consult the senate; nor, as is
the ease when Antonius holds a senate, were armed barbarians ever introduced
into the council of the king. The kings paid due regard to the auspices, which
this man, though consul and augur, has neglected, not only by passing laws in
opposition to the auspices but also by making his colleague (whom he himself had
appointed irregularly, and had falsified the auspices in order to do so) join in
passing them. Again, what king was ever so
preposterously impudent as to have all the profits and kindnesses, and
privileges of his kingdom on sale? But what immunity is there, what rights of
citizenship, what rewards that this man has not sold to individuals and to
cities and to entire provinces.? We have never heard of anything base or sordid
being imputed to Tarquinius. But at the house of this man gold was constantly
being weighed out in the spinning room, and money was being paid, and in one
single house every soul who had any interest in the business was selling the
whole empire of the Roman people. We have never heard of any executions of Roman
citizens by the orders of Tarquinius; but this man both at Suessa murdered the
man whom he had thrown into prison, and at Brundusium massacred about three hundred most gallant men and
most virtuous citizens. Lastly, Tarquinius
was conducting a war in defense of the Roman people at the very time when he was
expelled. Antonius was leading an army against the Roman people at the time
when, being abandoned by the legions, he cowered at the name of Caesar and at
his army, and neglecting the regular sacrifices, he offered up before daylight
vows which he could never mean to perform; and at this very moment he is
endeavoring to invade a province of the Roman people. The Roman people,
therefore, has already received and is still looking for greater services at the
hand of Decimus Brutus than our ancestors received from Lucius Brutus, the
founder of this race and name which we ought to be so anxious to preserve.
But, while all slavery is miserable, to be slave to a man who is profligate,
unchaste, effeminate, never, not even while in fear, sober, is surely
intolerable. He, then, who keeps this man out of Gaul, especially by his own private authority, judges, and
judges most truly, that he is not consul at all. We must take care, therefore, O
conscript fathers, to sanction the private decision of Decimus Brutus by public
authority. Nor, indeed, ought you to have thought Marcus Antonius consul at any
time since the Lupercalia. For on the day when he, in the sight of the Roman
people, harangued the mob, naked, perfumed, and drunk, and labored moreover to
put a crown on the head of his colleague, on that day he abdicated not only the
consulship, but also his own freedom. At, all events he himself must at once
have become a slave, if Caesar had been willing to accept from him that ensign
of royalty. Can I then think him a consul, can I think him a Roman citizen, can
I think him a freeman, can I even think him a man, who on that shameful and
wicked day showed what he was willing to endure while Caesar lived, and what he
was anxious to obtain himself after he was dead?
Nor is it possible to pass over in silence
the virtue and the firmness and the dignity of the province of Gaul. For that is the flower of Italy; that is the bulwark of the empire of
the Roman people; that is the chief ornament of our dignity. But so perfect is
the unanimity of the municipal towns and colonies of the province of Gaul, that all men in that district appear to
have united together to defend the authority of this order, and the majesty of
the Roman people. Wherefore, O tribunes of the people, although you have not
actually brought any other business before us beyond the question of protection,
in order that the consuls may be able to hold the senate with safety on the
first of January, still you appear to me to have acted with great wisdom and
great prudence in giving an opportunity of debating the general circumstances of
the republic. For when you decided that the senate could not be held with safety
without some protection or other, you at the same time asserted by that decision
that the wickedness and audacity of Antonius was still continuing its practices
within our walls.
Wherefore, I will embrace every consideration in my opinion which I am now going
to deliver, a course to which you, I feel sure, have no objection; in order that
authority may be conferred by us on admirable generals, and that hope of reward
may be held out by us to gallant soldiers, and that a formal decision may be
come to, not by words only, but also by actions, that Antonius is not only not a
consul, but is even an enemy. For if he be consul, then the legions which have
deserted the consul deserve beatingRiddle (Dict. Lat in
voce) says, that this was the regular punishment for deserters, and was
inflicted by their comrades. to death. Caesar is wicked, Brutus is
impious, since they of their own heads have levied an army against the consul.
But if new honors are to be sought out for the soldiers on account of their
divine and immortal merits, and if it is quite impossible to show gratitude
enough to the generals, who is there who must not think that man a public enemy,
whose conduct is such that those who are in arms against him are considered the
saviors of the republic?
Again, how insulting is he in his edicts! how ignorant! how like a barbarian! In
the first place, how has he heaped abuse on Caesar, in terms drawn from his
recollection of his own debauchery and profligacy For w here can we find anyone
who is chaster than this young man? Who is more modest? where have we among our
youth a more illustrious example of the old-fashioned strictness.? Who, on the
other hand, is more profligate than the man who abuses him? He reproaches the
son of Caius. Caesar with his want of noble blood, when even his naturalCaius Octavius, the real father of Octavius Caesar had been
praetor and governor of Macedonia,
and was intending to stand for the consulship when he died. father,
if he had been alive, would have been made consul. His mother is a woman of
Aricia. You might suppose he was
saving a woman of Tralles or of
Ephesus. Just see how we all who
come from the municipal towns—that is to say, absolutely all of
us—are looked down upon, for how few of us are there who do not come
from those towns? and what municipal town is there which he does not despise who
looks with such contempt on Aricia,
a town most ancient as to its antiquity; if we regard its rights, united with us
by treaty; if we regard its vicinity, almost close to us; if we regard the high
character of its inhabitants, most honorable?
It is from Aricia that we have
received the Voconian and Atinian laws; from Aricia have come many of those magistrates who have filled our
curule chairs, both in our fathers' recollection and in our own; from Aricia have sprung many of the best and
bravest of the Roman knights. But if you disapprove of a wife from Aricia, why do you approve of one from
Tusculum? Although the father
of this most virtuous and excellent woman, Marcus Atius Balbus, a man of the
highest character, was a man of praetorian rank; but the father of your
wife,—a good woman, at all events a rich one,—a fellow of
the name of Bambalio, was a man of no account at all. Nothing could be lower
than he was, a fellow who got his surname as a sort of insult, derivedBambalio is derived from the Greek word bamba/lw, to lisp. from the hesitation of his speech
and the stolidity of his understanding. Oh, but your grandfather was nobly born.
Yes, he was that Tuditanus who used to put on a cloak and buskins, and then go
and scatter money from the rostra among the people. I wish he had bequeathed his
contempt of money to his descendants! You have, indeed, a most glorious nobility
of family! But how does it happen that the
son of a woman of Aricia appears to
you to be ignoble, when you are accustomed to boast of a descent on the mother's
side which is precisely the same?Julia, the mother of
Antonius and sister of Lucius Caesar, was also a native of Aricia. Besides, what insanity
is it for that man to say any thing about the want of noble birth in men's
wives, when his father married Numitoria of Fregellae, the daughter of a traitor, and when he himself has
begotten children of the daughter of a freedman. However, those illustrious men
Lucius Philippus, who has a wife who came from Aricia, and Caius Marcellus, whose wife is the daughter of an
Arician, may look to this; and I am quite sure that they have no regrets on the
score of the dignity of those admirable women.
Moreover, Antonius proceeds to name Quintus Cicero, my brother's son, in his
edict; and is so mad as not to perceive that the way in which he names him is a
panegyric on him. For what could happen more desirable for this young man, than
to be known by every one to be the partner of Caesar's counsels, and the enemy
of the frenzy of Antonius? But this gladiator
has dared to put in writing that he had designed the murder of his father and of
his uncle. Oh the marvelous impudence, and audacity, and temerity of such an
assertion! to dare to put this in writing against that young man, whom I and my
brother, on account of his amiable manners, and pure character, and splendid
abilities, vie with one another in loving, and to whom we incessantly devote our
eyes, and ears, and affections! And as to me, he does not know whether he is
injuring or praising me in those same edicts. When he threatens the most
virtuous citizens with the same punishment which I inflicted on the most wicked
and infamous of men, he seems to praise me as if he were desirous of copying me;
but when he brings up again the memory of that most illustrious exploit, then he
thinks that he is exciting some odium against me in the breasts of men like
himself.
But what is it that he has done himself? When he had published all these edicts,
he issued another, that the senate was to meet in a full house on the
twenty-fourth of November. On that day he himself was not present. But what were
the terms of his edict? These, I believe, are the exact words of the end of it:
“If any one fails to attend, all men will be at liberty to think him
the adviser of my destruction and of most ruinous counsels.” What are
ruinous counsels? those which relate to the recovery of the liberty of the Roman
people? Of those counsels I confess that I have been and still am an adviser and
prompter to Caesar. Although he did not stand in need of any one's advice; but
still I spurred on the willing horse, as it is said. For what good man would not
have advised putting you to death, when on your death depended the safety and
life of every good man, and the liberty and dignity of the Roman people?
But when he had summoned us all by so severe
an edict, why did he not attend himself? Do you suppose that he was detained by
any melancholy or important occasion? He was detained drinking and feasting. If,
indeed, it deserves to be called a feast, and not rather gluttony. He neglected
to attend on the day mentioned in his edict; and he adjourned the meeting to the
twenty-eighth. He then summoned us to attend in the Capitol; and at that temple
he did arrive himself, coming up through some mine left by the Gauls. Men came,
having been summoned, some of them indeed men of high distinction, but forgetful
of what was due to their dignity. For the day was such, the report of the object
of the meeting such, such too the man who had convened the senate, that it was
discreditable for a senate to feel no fear for the result. And yet to those men
who had assembled he did not dare to say a single word about Caesar, though he
had made up his mindHe had intended to propose to the
senate to declare Octavius a public enemy. We must recollect that in these
orations Cicero, even when he speaks of Caius Caesar, means Octavius.
to submit a motion respecting him to the senate. There was a man of consular
rank who had brought a resolution ready drawn up. Is it not now admitting that he is himself an enemy, when
he does not dare to make a motion respecting a man who is leading an army
against him while he is consul? For it is perfectly plain that one of the two
must be an enemy; nor is it possible to come to a different decision respecting
adverse generals. If then Caius. Caesar be an enemy, why does the consul submit
no motion to the senate? If he does not deserve to be branded by the senate,
then what can the consul say, who, by his silence respecting him, has confessed
that he himself is an enemy? In his edicts he styles him Spartacus, while in the
senate he does not venture to call him even a bad citizen.
But in the most melancholy circumstances what mirth does he not provoke? I have
committed to memory some short phrases of one edict, which he appears to think
particularly clever; but I have not as yet found any one who has understood what
he intended by them. “That is no
insult which a worthy man does.” Now, in the first place, what is the
meaning of “worthy?” For there are many men worthy of
punishment, as he himself is. Does he mean what a man does who is invested with
any dignity?It is quite impossible to give a proper idea of
Cicero's meaning here. He is arguing on the word dignus, from which dignitas is
derived. But we have no means of keeping up the play on the words in
English. if so, what insult can be greater? Moreover, what is the
meaning of “doing an insult?” Who ever uses such an
expression? Then comes, “Nor any fear which an enemy
threatens.” What then? is fear usually threatened by a friend? Then
came many similar sentences. Is it not better to be dumb, than to say what no
one can understand? Now see why his tutor, exchanging pleas for plows, has had
given to him in the public domain of the Roman people two thousand acres of land
in the Leontine district, exempt from all taxes, for making a stupid man still
stupider at the public expense.
However, these perhaps are trifling matters.
I ask now, why all on a sudden he became so gentle in the senate, after having
been so fierce in his edicts? For what was the object of threatening Lucius
Cassius, a most fearless tribune of the people, and a most virtuous and loyal
citizen, with death if he came to the senate? of expelling Decimus Carfulenus, a
man thoroughly attached to the republic, from the senate by violence and threats
of death? of interdicting Titus Canutius, by whom he had been repeatedly and
deservedly harassed by most legitimate attacks, not only from the temple itself,
but from all approach to it? What was the resolution of the senate which he was
afraid that they would stop by the interposition of their veto? That, I suppose,
respecting the supplication in honor of Marcus Lepidus, a most illustrious man!
Certainly there was a great danger of our hindering an ordinary compliment to a
man on whom we were every day thinking of conferring some extraordinary honor.
However, that he might not appear to have
had no reason at all for ordering the senate to meet, he was on the point of
bringing forward some motion about the republic when the news about the fourth
legion came; which entirely bewildered him, and hastening to flee away, he took
a division on the resolution for decreeing this supplication, though such a
proceeding had never been heard of before.The general
proceeding on such occasions being to ask each senator's opinion separately,
which gave those who chose an opportunity for pronouncing some encomium on
the person honored.
But what a setting out was his after this! what a journey when he was in his robe
as a general! How did he shun all eyes, and the light of day, and the city, and
the forum! How miserable was his flight! how shameful! how infamous! Splendid,
too, were the decrees of the senate passed on the evening of that very day; very
religiously solemn was the allotment of the provinces; and heavenly indeed was
the opportunity, when every one got exactly what he thought most desirable.
You are acting admirably, therefore, O
tribunes of the people, in bringing forward a motion about the protection of the
senate and consuls; and most deservedly are we all bound to feel and to prove to
you the greatest gratitude for your conduct. For how can we be free from fear
and danger while menaced by such covetousness and audacity? And as for that
ruined and desperate man, what more hostile decision can be passed upon him than
has already been passed by his own friends? His most intimate friend, a man
connected with me too, Lucius Lentulus, and also Publius Naso, a man destitute
of covetousness, have shown that they think that they have no provinces assigned
them, and that the allotments of Antonius are invalid. Lucius. Philippus, a man
thoroughly worthy of his father and grandfather and ancestors, has done the
same. The same is the opinion of Marcus Turanius, a man of the greatest
integrity and purity of life. The same is the conduct of Publius Oppius and
those very men,—who, influenced by their friendship for Marcus
Antonius, have attributed to him more power than they would perhaps really
approve of,—Marcus Piso, my own connection, a most admirable man and
virtuous citizen, and Marcus Vehilius, a man of equal respectability, have both
declared that they would obey the authority of the senate. Why should I speak of Lucius. Cinna? whose extraordinary
integrity, proved under many trying circumstances, makes the glory of his
present admirable conduct less remarkable; he has altogether disregarded the
province assigned to him; and so has Caius Cestius, a man of great and firm
mind.
Who are there left then to be delighted with this heaven-sent allotment? Lucius
Antonius and Marcus Antonius! O happy pair! for there is nothing that they
wished for more. Caius. Antonius has Macedonia. Happy, too, is he! For he was constantly talking
about this province. Caius Calvisius has Africa. Nothing could be more fortunate, for he had only just
departed from Africa, and, as if he had
divined that he should return, he left two lieutenants at Utica. Then Marcus Iccius has Sicily, and Quintus Cassius Spain. I do not
know what to suspect. I fancy the lots which assigned these two provinces, were
not quite so carefully attended to by the gods.
O Caius Caesar (I am speaking of the young man), what safety have you brought to
the republic! How unforeseen has it been! how sudden! for if he did these things
when flying, what would he have done when he was pursuing? In truth, he had said
in a harangue that he would be the guardian of the city; and that he would keep
his army at the gates of the city till the first of May. What a fine guardian
(as the proverb goes) is the wolf of the sheep! Would Antonius have been a
guardian of the city, or its plunderer and destroyer? And he said too that he
would come into the city and go out as he pleased. What more need I say? Did he
not say, in the hearing of all the people, while sitting in front of the temple
of Castor, that no one should remain alive but the conqueror?
On this day, O conscript fathers, for the first time after a long interval do we
plant our foot and take possession of liberty. Liberty, of which, as long as I
could be, I was not only the defender, but even the savior. But when I could not
be so, I rested; and I bore the misfortunes and misery of that period without
abjectness, and not without some dignity. But as for this most foul monster, who
could endure him, or how could any one endure him? What is there in Antonius
except lust, and cruelty, and wantonness, and audacity? Of these materials he is
wholly made up. There is in him nothing virtuous, nothing moderate, nothing
modest, nothing virtuous. Wherefore, since
the matter has come to such a crisis that the question is whether he is to make
atonement to the republic for his crimes, or we are to become slaves, let us at
last, I beseech you, by the immortal gods. O conscript fathers, adopt our
fathers' courage, and our fathers' virtue so as either to recover the liberty
belonging to the Roman name and race, or else to prefer death to slavery. We
have borne and endured many things which ought not to be endured in a free city:
some of us out of a hope of recovering our freedom, some from too great a
fondness for life. But if we have submitted to these things, which necessity and
a sort of forcer which may seem almost to have been put on us by destiny, have
compelled us to endure; though, in point of fact, we have not endured them; are
we also to bear with the most shameful and inhuman tyranny of this profligate
robber?
What will he do in his passion, if ever he has the power, who, when he is not
able to show his anger against any one, has been the enemy of all good men? What
will he not dare to do when victorious, who, without having gained any victory,
has committed such crimes as these since the death of Caesar? has emptied his
well-filled house? has pillaged his gardens? has transferred to his own mansion
all their ornaments? has sought to make his death a pretext for slaughter and
conflagration? who, while he has carried two or three resolutions of the senate
which have been advantageous to the republic, has made every thing else
subservient to his own acquisition of gain and plunder? who has put up
exemptions and annuities to sale? who has released cities from obligations? who
has removed whole provinces from subjection to the Roman empire? who has
restored exiles? who has passed forged laws in the name of Caesar, and has
continued to have forged decrees engraved on brass and fixed up in the Capitol,
and has set up in his own house a domestic market for all things of that sort?
who has imposed laws on the Roman people? and who, with armed troops and guards,
has excluded both the people and the magistrates from the forum? who has filled
the senate with armed men? and has introduced armed men into the temple of
Concord when he was holding a senate there? who ran down to Brundusium to meet the legions, and
then murdered all the centurions in them who were well affected to the republic?
who endeavored to come to Rome with
his army to accomplish our massacre and the utter destruction of the city?
And he, now that he has been prevented from
succeeding in this attempt by the wisdom and forces of Caesar, and the unanimity
of the veterans, and the valor of the legions, even now that his fortunes are
desperate, does not diminish his audacity, nor, mad that he is, does he cease
proceeding in his headlong career of fury. He is leading his mutilated army into
Gaul; with one legion, and that too
wavering in its fidelity to him, he is waiting for his brother Lucius, as he can
not find any one more nearly like himself than him. But now what slaughter is
this man, who has thus become a captain instead of a matador, a general instead
of a gladiator, making, wherever he sets his foot! He destroys stores, he slays
the flocks and herds, and all the cattle, wherever he finds them; his soldiers
revel in their spoil; and he himself, in order to irritate his brother, drowns
himself in wine. Fields are laid waste; villas are plundered; matrons, virgins,
well-horn boys are carried off and given up to the soldiery; and Marcus Antonius
has done exactly the same wherever he has led his army.
Will you open your gates to these most infamous brothers? will you ever admit
them into the city? will you not rather, now that the opportunity is offered to
you, now that you have generals ready, and the minds of the soldiers eager for
the service, and all the Roman people unanimous; and all Italy excited with the desire to recover its
liberty,—will you not, I say, avail yourself of the kindness of the
immortal gods? You will never have an opportunity if you neglect this one. He
will be hemmed in in the rear, in the front, and in flank, if he once enters
Gaul. Nor must he be attacked by
arms alone, but by our decrees also. Mighty is the authority, mighty is the name
of the senate when all its members are inspired by one and the same resolution.
Do you not see how the forum is crowded? how the Roman people is on tiptoe with
the hope of recovering its liberty? which now, beholding us, after a long
interval, meeting here in numbers, hopes too that we are also met in freedom.
It was in expectation of this day that I avoided the wicked army of Marcus.
Antonius, at a time when he, while inveighing against me, was not aware for what
an occasion I was reserving myself and my strength. If at that time I had chosen
to reply to him, while he was seeking to begin the massacre with me, I should
nor now be able to consult the welfare of the republic. But now that I have this
opportunity, I will never, O conscript fathers, neither by day nor by night,
cease considering what ought to be thought concerning the liberty of the Roman
people, and concerning your dignity. And whatever ought to be planned or done, I
not only will never shrink from, but I will offer myself for, and beg to have
entrusted to me. This is what I did before while it was in my power; when it was
no longer in my power to do so, I did nothing. But now it is not only in my
power, but it is absolutely necessary for me, unless we prefer being slaves to
fighting with all our strength and courage to avoid being slaves. The immortal gods have given us these protectors,
Caesar for the city, Brutus for Gaul.
For if he had been able to oppress the city we must have become slaves at once;
if he had been able to get possession of Gaul, then it would not have been long before every good man
must have perished and all the rest have been enslaved.
Now then that this opportunity is afforded to you, O conscript fathers, I entreat
you in the name of the immortal gods, seize upon it; and recollect at last that
you are the chief men of the most honorable council on the whole face of the
earth. Give a token to the Roman people that your wisdom shall not fail the
republic, since that too professes that its valor shall never desert it either.
There is no need for my warning you: there is no one so foolish as not to
perceive that if we go to sleep over this opportunity we shall have to endure a
tyranny which will be not only cruel and haughty, but also ignominious and
flagitious. You know the insolence of
Antonius; you know his friends, you know his whole household. To be slaves to
lustful, wanton, debauched, profligate, drunken gamblers, is the extremity of
misery combined with the extremity of infamy. And if now (but may the immortal
gods avert the omen!) that worst of fates shall befall the republic, then, as
brave gladiators take care to perish with honor, let us too, who are the chief
men of all countries and nations, take care to fall with dignity rather than to
live as slaves with ignominy.
There is nothing more detestable than
disgrace; nothing more shameful than slavery. We have been born to glory and to
liberty; let us either preserve them or die with dignity. Too long have we
concealed what we have felt: now at length it is revealed: every one has plainly
shown what are his feelings to both sides, and what are his inclinations. There
are impious citizens, measured by the love I bear my country, too many; but in
proportion to the multitude of well-affected ones, very few; and the immortal
gods have given the republic an incredible opportunity and chance for destroying
them. For, in addition to the defenses which we already have, there will soon be
added consuls of consummate prudence, and virtue, and concord, who have already
deliberated and pondered for many months on the freedom of the Roman people.
With these men for our advisers and leaders, with the gods assisting us, with
ourselves using all vigilance and taking great precautions for the future, and
with the Roman people acting with unanimity, we shall indeed be free in a short
time, and the recollection of our present slavery will make liberty sweeter.
Moved by these considerations, since the tribunes of the people have brought
forward a motion to insure that the senate shall be able to meet in safety on
the first of January, and that we may be able to deliver our sentiments on the
general welfare of the state with freedom, I give my vote that Caius Pansa and
Aulus Hirtius, the consuls elect, do take care that the senate be enabled to
meet in safety on the first of January; and, as an edict has been published by
Decimus Brutus, imperator and consul elect, I vote
that the senate thinks that Decimus Brutus, imperator and consul, deserves excellently well of the republic,
inasmuch as he is upholding the authority of the senate, and the freedom and
empire of the Roman people; and as he is also
retaining the province of Gallia Citerior, a province full of most virtuous and
brave men, and of citizens most devoted to the republic, and his army, in
obedience to the senate, I vote that the senate judges that he, and his army,
and the municipalities and colonies of the province of Gaul, have acted and are acting properly, and
regularly, and in a manner advantageous to the republic. And the senate thinks
that it will be for the general interests of the republic that the provinces
which are at present occupied by Decimus Brutus and by Lucius Plancus, both
imperators, and consuls elect, and also by the officers who are in command of
provinces, shall continue to be held by them in accordance with the provisions
of the Julian law, until each of these officers has a successor appointed by a
resolution of the senate; and that they shall take care to maintain those
provinces and armies in obedience to the senate and people of Rome, and as a defense to the republic. And
since, by the exertions and valor and wisdom of Caius Caesar, and by the
admirable unanimity of the veteran soldiers, who, obeying his authority, have
been and are a protection to the republic, the Roman people has been defended,
and is at this present time being defended, from the most serious dangers.
And as the Martial legion has encamped at
Alba, in a municipal town of the greatest loyalty and courage, and has devoted
itself to the support of the authority of the senate, and of the freedom of the
Roman people; and as the fourth legion, behaving with equal wisdom and with the
same virtue, under the command of Lucius Egnatuleius the quaestor, an
illustrious citizen, has defended and is still defending the authority of the
senate and the freedom of the Roman people; I give my vote, That it is and shall
be an object of anxious care to the senate to pay due honor and to show due
gratitude to them for their exceeding services to the republic: and that the
senate hereby orders that when Caius Pansa and Aulus Hirtius, the consuls elect,
have entered on their office, they take the earliest opportunity of consulting
this body on these matters, as shall seem to them expedient for the republic,
and worthy of their own integrity, and loyalty.
THE FOURTH ORATION OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. CALLED ALSO THE FOURTH PHILIPPIC.
THE ARGUMENT.
After delivering the preceding speech in the senate, Cicero proceeded to the
forum, where he delivered the following speech to the people, to give them
information of what had been done.
The great numbers in which you are here met this day, O Romans, and this
assembly, greater than, it seems to me, I ever remember, inspires me with both
an exceeding eagerness to defend the republic, and with a great hope of
reestablishing it. Although my courage indeed has never failed; what has been
unfavorable is the time; and the moment that that has appeared to show any dawn
of light, I at once have been the leader in the defense of your liberty. And if
I had attempted to have done so before, I should not be able to do so now. For
this day, O Romans (that you may not think it is but a trifling business in
which we have been engaged), the foundations have been laid for future actions.
For the senate has no longer been content with styling Antonius an enemy in
words, but it has shown by actions that it thinks him one. And now I am much more elated still, because you too with
such great unanimity and with such a clamor have sanctioned our declaration that
he is an enemy.
And indeed, O Romans, it is impossible but that either the men must be impious
who have levied armies against the consul, or else that he must be an enemy
against whom they have rightly taken arms. And this doubt the senate has this
day removed—not indeed that there really was any; but it has prevented
the possibility of there being any. Caius Caesar, who has upheld and who is
still upholding the republic and your freedom by his zeal and wisdom, and at the
expense of his patrimonial estate, has been complimented with the highest
praises of the senate.
I praise you,—yes, I praise you greatly, O Romans, when you follow with
the most grateful minds the name of that most illustrious youth, or rather boy;
for his actions belong to immortality, the name of youth only to his age. I can
recollect many things; I have heard of many things; I have read of many things;
but in the whole history of the whole world I have never known any thing like
this. For, when we were weighed down with slavery, when the evil was daily
increasing, when we had no defense, while we were in dread of the pernicious and
fatal return of Marcus Antonius from Brundusium, this young man adopted the design which none of us
had ventured to hope for, which beyond all question none of us were acquainted
with, of raising an invincible army of his father's soldiers, and so hindering
the frenzy of Antonius, spurred on as it was by the most inhuman counsels, from
the power of doing mischief to the republic.
For who is there who does not see clearly that, if Caesar had not prepared an
army, the return of Antonius must have been accompanied by our destruction? For,
in truth, he returned in such a state of mind, burning with hatred of you all,
stained with the blood of the Roman citizens, whom he had murdered at Suessa and
at Brundusium, that he thought
of nothing but the utter destruction of the republic. And what protection could
have been found for your safety and for your liberty if the army of Caius Caesar
had not been composed of the bravest of his father's soldiers? And with respect
to his praises and honors,—and he is entitled to divine and
everlasting honors for his godlike and undying services,—the senate
has just consented to my proposals, and has decreed that a motion be submitted
to it at the very earliest opportunity.
Now who is there who does not see that by this decree Antonius has been adjudged
to be an enemy? For what else can we call him, when the senate decides that
extraordinary honors are to be devised for those men who are leading armies
against him? What? did not the Martial legion (which appears to me by some
divine permission to have derived its name from that god from whom we have heard
that the Roman people descended) decide by its resolutions that Antonius was an
enemy before the senate had come to any resolution? For if he be not an enemy,
we must inevitably decide that those men who have deserted the consul are
enemies. Admirably and seasonably, O Romans, have you by your cries sanctioned
the noble conduct of the men of the Martial legion, who have come over to the
authority of the senate, to your liberty, and to the whole republic; and have
abandoned that enemy and robber and parricide of his country. Nor did they display only their spirit and courage in doing
this, but their caution and wisdom also. They encamped at Alba, in a city
convenient, fortified, near, full of brave men and loyal and virtuous citizens.
The fourth legion imitating the virtue of this Martial legion, under the
leadership of Lucius. Egnatuleius, whom the senate deservedly praised a little
while ago, has also joined the army of Caius Caesar.
What more adverse decisions, O Marcus Antonius, can you want? Caesar, who has
levied an army against you, is extolled to the skies. The legions are praised in
the most complimentary language, which have abandoned you, which were sent for
into Italy by you; and which, if you
had chosen to be a consul rather than an enemy, were wholly devoted to you. And
the fearless and honest decision of those legions is confirmed by the senate, is
approved of by the whole Roman people,—unless, indeed, you today, O
Romans, decide that Antonius is a consul and not an enemy. I thought, O Romans, that you did think as you show you do.
What? do you suppose that the municipal towns, and the colonies, and the
prefectures have any other opinion? All men are agreed with one mind; so that
every one who wishes the state to be saved must take up every sort of arms
against that pestilence. What? does, I should like to know, does the opinion of
Decimus Brutus, O Romans, which you can gather from his edict, which has this
day reached us, appear to any one deserving of being lightly esteemed? Rightly
and truly do you say No, O Romans. For the family and name of Brutus has been by
some especial kindness and liberality of the immortal gods given to the
republic, for the purpose of at one time establishing, and at another of
recovering, the liberty of the Roman people.
What then has been the opinion which Decimus Brutus has formed of Marcus
Antonius? He excludes him from his province. He opposes him with his army. He
rouses all Gaul to war, which is
already roused of its own accord, and in consequence of the judgment which it
has itself formed. If Antonius be consul, Brutus is an enemy. Can we then doubt
which of these alternatives is the fact?
And just as you now with one mind and one voice affirm that you entertain no
doubt, so did the senate just now decree that Decimus Brutus deserved
excellently well of the republic, inasmuch as he was defending the authority of
the senate and the liberty and empire of the Roman people. Defending it against
whom? Why, against an enemy. For what other sort of defense deserves praise?
In the next place the province of
Gaul is praised, and is deservedly
complimented in most honorable language by the senate for resisting Antonius.
But if that province considered him the consul, and still refused to receive
him, it would be guilty of great wickedness. For all the provinces belong to the
consul of right, and are bound to obey him. Decimus Brutus, imperator and consul elect, a citizen born for the republic,
denies that he is consul; Gaul denies
it; all Italy denies it; the senate
denies it; you deny it. Who then thinks that he is consul except a few robbers?
Although even they themselves do not believe what they say; nor is it possible
that they should differ from the judgment of all men, impious and desperate men
though they be. But the hope of plunder and booty blinds their minds men whom no
gifts of money, no allotment of land nor even that interminable auction has
satisfied; who have proposed to themselves the city, the properties and fortunes
of all the citizens as their booty; and who, as long as there is something for
them to seize and carry off, think that nothing will be wanting to them;
among whom Marcus Antonius (O ye immortal
gods, avert, I pray you, and efface this omen), has promised to divide this
city. May things rather happen O Romans as you pray that they should, and may
the chastisement of this frenzy fall on him and on his friend. And, indeed, I
feel sure that it will be so. For I think that at present not only men but the
immortal gods have all united together to preserve this republic. For if the
immortal gods foreshow us the future, by means of portents and prodigies then it
has been openly revealed to us that punishment is near at hand to him, and
liberty to us. Or if it was impossible for such unanimity on the part of all men
to exist without the inspiration of the gods, in either case how can we doubt as
to the indications of the heavenly deities?
It only remains, O Romans, for you to persevere in the sentiments which you at
present display.
I will act, therefore, as commanders are in the habit of doing when their army is
ready for battle, who, although they see their soldiers ready to engage, still
address an exhortation to them; and in like manner I will exhort you who are
already eager and burning to recover your liberty. You have not—you
have not, indeed, O Romans, to war against an enemy with whom it is possible to
make peace on any terms whatever. For he does not now desire your slavery, as he
did before, but he is angry now and thirsts for your blood. No sport appears
more delightful to him than bloodshed, and slaughter, and the massacre of
citizens before his eyes. You have not, O
Romans, to deal with a wicked and profligate man, but with an unnatural and
savage beast. And, since he has fallen into a well, let him be buried in it. For
if he escapes out of it, there will be no inhumanity of torture which it will be
possible to avoid. But he is at present hemmed in, pressed, and besieged by
those troops which we already have, and will soon be still more so by those
which in a few days the new consuls will levy. Apply yourselves then to this
business, as you are doing. Never have you shown greater unanimity in any cause;
never have you been so cordially united with the senate. And no wonder. For the
question now is not in what condition we are to live, but whether we are to live
at all, or to perish with torture and ignominy.
Although nature, indeed, has appointed death for all men: but valor is accustomed
to ward off any cruelty or disgrace in death. And that is an inalienable
possession of the Roman race and name. Preserve, I beseech you, O Romans, this
attribute which your ancestors have left you as a sort of inheritance. Although
all other things are uncertain, fleeting, transitory; virtue alone is planted
firm with very deep roots; it can not be undermined by any violence; it can
never be moved from its position. By it your ancestors first subdued the whole
of Italy; then destroyed Carthage, overthrew Numantia, and reduced the most mighty kings
and most warlike nations under the dominion of this empire.
And your ancestors, O Romans, had to deal with an enemy who had also a republic,
a senate-house, a treasury, harmonious and united citizens, and with whom, if
fortune had so willed it, there might have been peace and treaties on settled
principles. But this enemy of yours is attacking your republic, but has none
himself; is eager to destroy the senate, that is to say, the council of the
whole world, but has no public council himself; he has exhausted your treasury,
and has none of his own. For how can a man be supported by the unanimity of his
citizens, who has no city at all? And what principles of peace can there be with
that man who is full of incredible cruelty, and destitute of faith?
The whole then of the contest, O Romans, which is now before the Roman people,
the conqueror of all nations, is with an assassin, a robber, a Spartacus.Spartacus was the general of the gladiators and slaves in the
Servile war. For as to his habitual boast of being like Catilina, he
is equal to him in wickedness, but inferior in energy. He, though he had no
army, rapidly levied one. This man has lost that very army which he had. As,
therefore, by my diligence, and the authority of the senate, and your own zeal
and valor, you crushed Catilina, so you will very soon hear that this infamous
piratical enterprise of Antonius has been put down by your own perfect and
unexampled harmony with the senate, and by the good fortune and valor of your
armies and generals. I, for my part, as far
as I am able to labor, and to effect any thing by my care, and exertions, and
vigilance, and authority, and counsel, will omit nothing which I may think
serviceable to your liberty. Nor could I omit it without wickedness after all
your most ample and honorable kindness to me. However, on this day, encouraged
by the motion of a most gallant man, and one most firmly attached to you, Marcus
Servilius, whom you see before you, and his colleagues also, most distinguished
men, and most virtuous citizens; and partly, too, by my advice and my example,
we have, for the first time after a long interval, fired up again with a hope of
liberty.
THE FIFTH ORATION OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. OTHERWISE CALLED THE FIFTH PHILIPPIC.
THE ARGUMENT.
The new consuls Hirtius and Pansa were much attached to Cicero, had consulted
him a great deal, and professed great respect for his opinion; but they were
also under great obligations to Julius Caesar, and, consequently, connected
to some extent with his party and with Antonius; on which account they
wished, if possible, to employ moderate measures only against him.
As soon as they had entered on their office, they convoked the senate to meet
for the purpose of deliberating on the general welfare of the republic. They
both spoke themselves with great firmness, promising to be the leaders in
defending the liberties of Rome,
and exhorting the senate to act with courage. And then they called on
Quintus Fufius Calenus, who had been consul A.U.C. 707, and who was Pansa's
father-in-law, to deliver his opinion first. He was known to be a firm
friend of Antonius. Cicero wished to declare Antonius a public enemy at
once; but Calenus proposed, that before they proceeded to acts of open
hostility against him, they should send an embassy to admonish him to desist
from his attempts upon Gaul, and to
submit to the authority of the senate. Piso and others supported this
motion, on the ground that it was cruel and unjust to condemn a man without
giving him a fair chance of submitting, and without hearing what he had to
say. It was in opposition to Calenus's motion that Cicero made the following
speech, substituting for his proposition one to declare Antonius an enemy,
and to offer pardon to those of his army who returned to their duty by the
first of February, to thank Decimus Brutus for his conduct in Gaul, to decree a statue to Marcus
LepidusLepidus had not in reality done any
particular service to the republic (he was afterward one of the
triumviri), but he was at the head of the best army in the empire; and
so was able to be of the most important service to either party, and,
therefore, Cicero hoped to attach him to his side by this
compliment. for his services to the republic and his loyalty, to
thank Caius Caesar (Octavius) and to grant him a special commission as
general, to make him a senator and propraetor, and to enable him to stand
for any subsequent magistracy as if he had been quaestor, to thank Lucius
Egnatuleius, and to vote thanks and promise rewards to the Martial and the
fourth legion.
Nothing, O conscript fathers, has ever seemed to me longer than these calends of
January; and I think that for the last few days you have all been feeling the
same thing. For those who are waging war against the republic have not waited
for this day. But we, while it would have been most especially proper for us to
come to the aid of the general safety with our counsel, were not summoned to the
senate. However, the speech just addressed to us by the consuls has removed our
complaints as to what is past, for they have spoken in such a manner that the
calends of January seem to have been long wished for rather than really to have
arrived late.
And while the speeches of the consuls have encouraged my mind, and have given me
a hope, not only of preserving our safety, but even of recovering our former
dignity; on the other hand, the opinion of the man who has been asked for his
opinion first would have disturbed me, if I had not confidence in your virtue
and firmness. For this day, O conscript
fathers, has dawned upon you, and this opportunity has been afforded you of
proving to the Roman people how much virtue, how much firmness, and how much
dignity exists in the counsels of this order. Recollect what a day it was
thirteen days ago; how great was then your unanimity, and virtue, and firmness;
and what great praise, what great glory, and what great gratitude you earned
from the Roman people. And on that day, O conscript fathers, you resolved that
no other alternative was in your power, except either an honorable peace or a
necessary war.
Is Marcus Antonius desirous of peace? Let him lay down his arms, let him implore
our pardon, let him deprecate our vengeance: he w ill find no one more
reasonable than me, though, while seeking to recommend himself to impious
citizens, he has chosen to be an enemy instead of a friend to me. There is, in
truth, nothing which can be given to him while waging war; there will perhaps be
something which may be granted to him if he comes before us as a suppliant
But to send ambassadors to a man respecting whom you passed a most dignified and
severe decision only thirteen days ago, is not an act of lenity, but, if I am to
speak my real opinion, of downright madness. In the first place, you praised
those generals who, of their own head, had undertaken war against him; in the
next place, you praised the veterans who, though they had been settled in those
colonies by Antonius, preferred the liberty of the Roman people to the
obligations which they were under to him. Is
it not so? Why was the Martial legion? why was the fourth legion praised? For if
they have deserted the consul, they ought to be blamed; if they have abandoned
an enemy to the republic, then they are deservedly praised.
But as at that time you had not yet got any consuls, you passed a decree that a
motion concerning the rewards for the soldiers and the honors to be conferred on
the generals should be submitted to you at the earliest opportunity. Are you
then going now to arrange rewards for those men who have taken arms against
Antonius, and to send ambassadors to Antonius? so as to deserve to be ashamed
that the legions should have come to more honorable resolutions than the senate:
if, indeed, the legions have resolved to defend the senate against Antonius, but
the senate decrees to send ambassadors to Antonius. Is this encouraging the
spirit of the soldiers, or damping their virtue?
This is what we have gained in the last twelve days, that the man whom no single
person except Cotyla was then found to defend, has now advocates, even of
consular rank. Would that they had all been asked their opinion before me
(although I have my suspicions as to what some of those men who will be asked
after me, are intending to say); I should find it easier to speak against them
if any argument appeared to have been advanced.
For there is an opinion in some quarters, that some one intends to propose to
decree Antonius that farther Gaul,
which Plancus is at present in possession of. What else is that but supplying an
enemy with all the arms necessary for civil war: first of all with the sinews of
war, money in abundance, of which he is at present destitute; and secondly, with
as much cavalry as he pleases? Cavalry do I say? He is a likely man to hesitate,
I suppose, to bring with him the barbarian nations;—a man who does not
see this is senseless; he who does see it, and still advocates such a measure,
is impious. Will you furnish a wicked and
desperate citizen with an army of Gauls and Germans, with money, and infantry,
and cavalry, and all sorts of resources? All these excuses are no excuse at
all:—“He is a friend of mine.” Let him first be a
friend of his country:—“ He is a relation of
mine.” Can any relationship be nearer than that of one's country, in
which even one's parents are comprised? “He has given me
money:”—I should like to see the man who will dare to say
that. But when I have explained what is the real object aimed at, it will be
easy for you to decide which opinion you ought to agree with and adopt.
The matter at issue is, whether power is to be given to Marcus Antonius of
oppressing the republic, of massacring the virtuous citizens, of plundering the
city, of distributing the lands among his robbers, of overwhelming the Roman
people in slavery; or, whether he is not to be allowed to do all this. Do you
doubt what you are to do? “Oh, but all this does not apply to
Antonius.” Even Cotyla would not
venture to say that. For what does not apply to him? A man who, while he says
that he is defending the acts of another, perverts all those laws of his which
we might most properly praise. Caesar wished to drain the marshes: this man has
given all Italy to that moderate man
Lucius Antonius to distribute.—What? has the Roman people adopted this
law?—What? could it be passed with a proper regard for the auspices?
But this conscientious augur acts in reference to the auspices without his
colleagues. Although those auspices do not require any
interpretation—for who is there who is ignorant that it is impious to
submit any motion to the people while it is thundering? The tribunes of the
people carried laws respecting the provinces in opposition to the acts of
Caesar; Caesar had extended the provisions of his law over two years; Antonius
over six years. Has then the Roman people adopted this law? What? was it ever
regularly promulgated? What? was it not passed before it was even drawn up? Did
we not see the deed done before we even suspected that it was going to be done?
Where is the Caecilian and Didian law? What is
become of the law that such bills should be published on three market-days? What
is become of the penalty appointed by the recent Junian and Licinian law? Can
these laws be ratified without the destruction of all other laws? Has any one
had a right of entering the forum? Moreover what thunder and what a storm that
was! so that, even if the consideration of the auspices had no weight with
Marcus Antonius, it would seem strange that he could endure and bear such
exceeding violence of tempest, and rain and whirlwind. When therefore he, as
augur, says that he carried a law while Jupiter was not only thundering, but
almost uttering an express prohibition of it by his clamor from heaven, will he
hesitate to confess that it was carried in violation of the auspices? What? does the virtuous augur think that it has
nothing to do with the auspices, that he carried the law with the aid of that
colleague whose election he himself vitiated by giving notice of the auspices?
But perhaps we, who are his colleagues, may be the interpreters of the auspices?
Do we also want interpreters of arms? In the first place, all the approaches to
the forum were so fenced round, that even if no armed men were standing in the
way, still it would have been impossible to enter the forum except by tearing
down the barricades. But the guards were arranged in such a manner, that, as the
access of an enemy to a city is prevented, so you might in this instance see the
burgesses and the tribunes of the people cut off by forts and works from all
entrance to the forum. On which account I
give my vote that those laws which Marcus Antonius is said to have carried were
all carried by violence, and in violation of the auspices; and that the people
is not bound by them. If Marcus Antonius is said to have carried any law about
confirming the acts of Caesar and abolishing the dictatorship forever, and of
leading colonies into any lands, then I vote that those laws be passed over
again, with a due regard to the auspices, so that they may bind the people. For
although they may be good measures which he passed irregularly and by violence,
still they are not to be accounted laws, and the whole audacity of this frantic
gladiator must he repudiated by our authority. But that squandering of the public money can not possibly be endured by which
he got rid of seven hundred millions of sesterces by forged entries and deeds of
gifts, so that it seems an absolute miracle that so vast a sum of money
belonging to the Roman people can have disappeared in so short a time. What? are
those enormous profits to be endured which the household of Marcus Antonius has
swallowed up? He was continually selling forged decrees; ordering the names of
kingdoms and states, and grants of exemptions to be engraved on brass, having
received bribes for such orders. And his statement always was, that he was doing
these things in obedience to the memoranda of Caesar, of which he himself was
the author. In the interior of his house there was going on a brisk market of
the whole republic. His wife, more fortunate for herself than for her husband,
was holding an auction of kingdoms and provinces: exiles were restored without
any law, as if by law: and unless all these acts are rescinded by the authority
of the senate, now that we have again arrived at a hope of recovering the
republic, there will be no likeness of a free city left to us.
Nor is it only by the sale of forged memoranda and autographs that a countless
sum of money was collected together in that house, while Antonius, whatever he
sold, said that he was acting in obedience to the papers of Caesar; but he even
took bribes to make false entries of the resolutions of the senate; to seal
forged contracts; and resolutions of the senate that had never been passed were
entered on the records of that treasury. Of all this baseness even foreign
nations were witnesses. In the meantime treaties were made; kingdoms given away;
nations and provinces released from the burdens of the state; and false
memorials of all these transactions were fixed up all over the Capitol, amid the
groans of the Roman people. And by all these proceedings so vast a sum of money
was collected in one house, that if it were all made available, the Roman people
would never want money again.
Moreover he passed a law to regulate judicial proceedings, this chaste and
upright man, this upholder of the tribunals and the law And in this he deceived
us He used to say that he appointed men from the front ranks of the army, common
soldiers men of the Alauda,It has been already explained
that this was the name of one legion.as judges but he has in reality
selected gamesters, he has selected exiles, he has selected Greeks. Oh the fine
bench of judges Oh the admirable dignity of that council! I do long to plead in behalf of some defendant before that
tribunal—Cyda of Crete; a
prodigy even in that island; the most audacious and abandoned of men. But even
suppose he were not so. Does he understand Latin? Is he qualified by birth and
station to be a judge! Does he—which is most important—does
he know any thing about our laws and manners? Is he even acquainted with any of
the citizens? Why Crete is better known to you than Rome is to Cyda. In fact the selection and
appointment of the judges has usually been confined to our own citizens. But who
ever knew or could possibly have known this. Gortynian judge? For Lysiades, the
Athenian, we most of us do know For he is the son of Phaedrus an eminent
philosopher. And, besides, he is a witty man, so that he will be able to get on
very well with Marcus Curius, who will be one of his colleagues, and with whom
he is in the habit of playing. I ask if
Lysiades, when summoned as a judge, should not answer to his name, and should
have an excuse alleged for him that he is an Areopagite, and that he is not
bound to act as a judge at both Rome
and Athens at the same time, will
the man who presides over the investigation admit the excuse of this Greekling
judge, at one time a Greek, and at another a Roman? Or will he disregard the
most ancient laws of the Athenians?
And what a bench will it be, O ye good gods! A Cretan judge, and he the most
worthless of men. Whom can a defendant employ to propitiate him? How is he to
get at him? He comes of a hard nation. But the Athenians are merciful. I dare
say that Curius, too, is not cruel, inasmuch as he is a man who is himself at
the mercy of fortune every day. There are besides other chosen judges who will
perhaps be excused. For they have a legitimate excuse, that they have left their
country in banishment, and that they have not been restored since. And would that madman have chosen these men as
judges, would he have entered their names as such in the treasury, would he have
trusted a great portion of the republic to them, if he had intended to leave the
least semblance of a republic?
And I have been speaking of those judges who are known. Those whom you are less
acquainted with I have been unwilling to name. Know then that dancers,
harp-players, the whole troop, in fact, of Antonius's revelers, have all been
pitchforked into the third decury of judges. Now you see the object of passing
so splendid and admirable a law, amidst excessive rain, storm, wind, tempest,
and whirlwind, amidst thunder and lightning; it was that he might have those men
for our judges whom no one would like to have for guests. It is the enormity of
his wickedness, the consciousness of his crimes, the plunder of that money of
which the account was kept in the temple of Ops, which have been the real
inventors of this third decury. And infamous judges were not sought for, till
all hope of safety for the guilty was despaired of, if they came before
respectable ones. But what must have been the
impudence, what must have been the iniquity of a man who dared to select those
men as judges, by the selection of whom a double disgrace was stamped on the
republic: one, because the judges were so infamous; the other, because by this
step it was revealed and published to the world how many infamous citizens we
had in the republic? These then, and all other similar laws, I should vote ought
to be annulled, even if they had been passed without violence, and with all
proper respect for the auspices. But now why need I vote that they ought to be
annulled, when I do not consider that they were ever legally passed?
Is not this, too, to be marked with the deepest ignominy, and with the severest
animadversion of this order, so as to be recollected by all posterity, that
Marcus Antonius. (the first man who has ever done so since the foundation of the
city) has openly taken armed men about with him in this city? A thing which the
kings never did, nor those men who, since the kings have been banished, have
endeavored to seize on kingly power. I can recollect Cinna; I have seen Sulla;
and lately Caesar. For these three men are the only ones since the city was
delivered by Lucius Brutus, who have had more power than the entire republic. I
can not assert that no man in their trains had weapons. This I do say, that they had not many, and that they
concealed them. But this post was attended by an army of armed men. Classitius,
Mustela, and Tiro, openly displaying their swords, led troops of fellows like
themselves through the forum. Barbarian archers occupied their regular place in
the army. And when they armed at the temple of Concord, the steps were crowded,
the litters full of shields were arranged; not because he wished the shields to
be concealed, but that his friends might not be fatigued by carrying the shields
themselves.
And what was most infamous not only to see, but even to hear of, armed men,
robbers, assassins were stationed in the temple of Concord; the temple was
turned into a prison; the doors of the temple were closed, and the conscript
fathers delivered their opinions while robbers were standing among the benches
of the senators. And if I did not come to a
senate-house in this state, he, on the first of September, said that he would
send carpenters and pull down my house. It was an important affair, I suppose,
that was to be discussed. He made some motion about a supplication. I attended
the day after. He himself did not come. I delivered my opinion about the
republic, not indeed with quite so much freedom as usual, but still with more
than the threats of personal danger to myself made perhaps advisable. But that
violent and furious man (for Lucius Piso had done the same thing with great
credit thirty days before) threatened me with his enmity, and ordered me to
attend the senate on the nineteenth of September. In the meantime he spent the
whole of the intervening seventeen days in the villa of Scipio, at Tibur, declaiming against me to make himself
thirsty. For this is his usual object in declaiming. When the day arrived on which he had ordered me to attend,
then he came with a regular army in battle array to the temple of Concord, and
out of his impure mouth vomited forth an oration against me in my absence. On
which day, if my friends had not prevented me from attending the senate as I was
anxious to do, he would have begun a massacre by the slaughter of me. For that
was what he had resolved to do. And when once he had dyed his sword in blood,
nothing would have made him leave off but pure fatigue and satiety. In truth,
his brother, Lucius. Antonius, was present, an Asiatic gladiator, who had fought
as a mirmillo,The mirmillo was
the gladiator who fought with the retiarius; he
wore a Gallic helmet with a fish for a crest. at Mylasa; he was thirsting for my blood, and
had shed much of his own in that gladiatorial combat. He was now valuing our
property in his mind, taking notice of our possessions in the city and in the
country; his indigence united with his covetousness was threatening all our
fortunes; he was distributing our lands to whomsoever and in whatever shares he
pleased; no private individual could get access to him, or find any means to
propitiate him, and induce him to act with justice. Every former propraetor had
just so much property as Antonius left him after the division of his estate.
And although all these proceedings can
not be ratified, if you annul his laws, still I think that they ought all to be
separately taken note of, article by article; and that we ought formally to
decide that the appointment of septemvirs was null and void; and that nothing is
ratified which is said to have been done by them.
But who is there who can consider Marcus Antonius a citizen, rather than a most
foul and barbarous enemy, who, while sitting in front of the temple of Castor,
in the hearing of the Roman people, said that no one should survive except those
who were victorious? Do you suppose, O conscript fathers, that he spoke with
more violence than he would act? And what are we to think of his having ventured
to say that, after he had given up his magistracy, he should still be at the
city with his army? that he should enter the city as often as he pleased? What
else was this but threatening the Roman people with slavery? And what was the object of his journey to Brundusium? and of that great haste?
What was his hope, except to lead that vast army to the city or rather into the
city? What a proceeding was that selection of the centurions! What unbridled
fury of an intemperate mind! For when those gallant legions had raised an outcry
against his promises he ordered those centurions to come to him to his house
whom he perceived to be loyally attached to the republic and then he had them
all murdered before his own eyes and those of his wife whom this noble commander
had taken with him to the army What disposition do you suppose that this man
will display toward us whom he hates when he was so cruel to those men whom he
had never seen? And how covetous will he be with respect to the money of rich
men when he thirsted for even the blood of poor men? whose property such as it
was he immediately divided among his satellites and boon companions.
And he in a fury was now moving his hostile
standards against his country from Brundusium when Caius Caesar by the kind inspiration of the
immortal gods, by the greatness of his own heavenly courage, and wisdom, and
genius, of his own accord, indeed and prompted by his own admirable virtue, but
still with the approbation of my authority went down to the colonies which had
been founded by his father; convoked the veteran soldiery; in a few days raised
an army and checked the furious advance of this bandit. But after the Martial
legion saw this admirable leader, it had no other thoughts but those of securing
our liberty. And the fourth legion followed its example.
And Antonius, on hearing of this news after he had summoned the senate, and
provided a man of consular rank to declare his opinion that Caius. Caesar was an
enemy of his country, immediately fainted away. And afterward without either performing the usual sacrifices or offering the
customary vows, he, I will not say went forth, but took to flight in his robe as
a general. But which way did he flee? To the province of our most resolute and
bravest citizens, men who could never have endured him if he had not come
bringing war in his train, an intemperate, passionate, insolent, proud man,
always making demands, always plundering, always drunk. But he, whose
worthlessness even when quiet was more than any one could endure, has declared
war upon the province of Gaul; he is
besieging Mutina, a valiant and
splendid colony of the Roman people; he is blockading Decimus Brutus, the
general, the consul-elect, a citizen born not for himself, but for us and the
republic. Was then Hannibal an enemy, and is
Antonius a citizen? What did the one do like an enemy, that the other has not
done, or is not doing, or planning, and thinking of? What was there in the whole
of the journey of the Antonii; except depopulation, devastation, slaughter, and
rapine? Actions which Hannibal never did, because he was reserving many things
for his own use, these men do, as men who live merely for the present hour; they
never have given a thought not only to the fortunes and welfare of the citizens,
but not even to their own advantage.
Are we then, O ye good gods, to resolve to send ambassadors to this man? Are
those men who propose this acquainted with the constitution of the republic,
with the laws of war, with the precedents of our ancestors? Do they give a
thought to what the majesty of the Roman people and the severity of the senate
requires? Do you resolve to send ambassadors? If to beg his mercy, he will
despise you; if to declare your commands, he will not listen to them; and last
of all, however severe the message may be which we give the ambassadors, the
very name of ambassadors will extinguish this ardor of the Roman people which we
see at present, and break the spirit of the municipal towns and of Italy. To say nothing of these arguments,
though they are weighty, at all events that sending of an embassy will cause
delay and slowness to the war. Although those
who propose it should say, as I hear that some intend to
say,—“Let the ambassadors go, but let war be prepared for
all the same.” Still the very name of ambassadors will damp men's
courage, and delay the rapidity of the war.
The most important events, O conscript fathers, are often determined by very
trivial moving influences in every circumstance that can happen in the republic,
and also in war, and especially in civil war, which is usually governed a great
deal by men's opinions and by reports. No one will ask what is the commission
with which we have sent the ambassadors; the mere name of an embassy, and that
sent by us of our, own accord, will appear an indication of fear. Let him depart
from Mutina; let him cease to attack
Brutus; let him retire from Gaul. He
must not be begged in words to do so; he must be compelled by arms. For we are not sending to Hannibal to desire him to
retire from before Saguntum; to whom
the senate formerly sent Publius Valerius Flaccus and Quintus. Baebius Tampilus;
who, if Hannibal did not comply, were ordered to proceed to Carthage. Whither do we order our
ambassadors to proceed, if Antonius does not comply? Are we sending an embassy
to our own citizen, to beg him not to attack a general and a colony of the Roman
people? Is it so? Is it becoming to us to beg this by means of ambassadors? What
is the difference in the name of the immortal gods, whether he attacks this city
itself or whether he attacks an outpost of this city a colony of the Roman
people established for the sake of its being a bulwark and protection to us? The
siege of Saguntum was the cause of the
second Punic war, which Hannibal carried on against our ancestors. It was quite
right to send ambassadors to him They were sent to a Carthaginian, they were
sent on behalf of those who were the enemies of Hannibal and our allies. What is
there resembling that case here? We are sending to one of our own citizens to
beg him not to blockade a general of the Roman army, not to attack our army and
our colony,—in short not to be an enemy or ours. Come; suppose he
obeys, shall we either be inclined, or shall we be able by any possibility, to
treat him as one of our citizens?
On the nineteenth of December, you overwhelmed him with your decrees; you
ordained that this motion should be submitted to you on the first of January,
which you see is submitted now, respecting the honors and rewards to be
conferred on those who have deserved or do deserve well of the republic. And the
chief of those men you have adjudged to be the man who really has done so, Caius
Caesar, who had diverted the nefarious attacks of Marcus. Antonius against this
city, and compelled him to direct them against Gaul; and next to him you consider the veteran soldiers who
first followed Caesar; then those excellent and heavenly-minded legions the
Martial and the fourth, to whom you have promised honors and rewards, for having
not only abandoned their consul, but for having even declared war against him.
And on the same day, having a decree brought before you and published on
purpose, you praised the conduct of Decimus Brutus, a most excellent citizen,
and sanctioned with your public authority this war which he had undertaken of
his own head.
What else, then, did you do on that day except pronounce Antonius a public
enemy? After these decrees of yours, will it
be possible for him to look upon you with equanimity, or for you to behold him
without the most excessive indignation! He has been excluded and cut off and
wholly separated from the republic, not merely by his own wickedness, as it
seems to me, but by some especial good fortune of the republic. And if he should
comply with the demands of the ambassadors and return to Rome, do you suppose that abandoned citizens
will ever be in need of a standard around which to rally? But this is not what I
am so much afraid of. There are other things which I am more apprehensive of and
more alarmed at. He never will comply with the demands of the ambassadors. I
know the man's insanity and arrogance; I know the desperate counsels of his
friends, to which he is wholly given up.
Lucius his brother, as being a man who has fought abroad, leads on his
household. Even suppose him to be in his senses himself, which he never will be;
still he will not be allowed by these men to act as if he were so. In the mean
time, time will be wasted. The preparations for war will cool. How is it that
the war has been protracted as long as this, if it is not by procrastination and
delay?
From the very first moment after the departure, or rather after the hopeless
flight of that bandit, that the senate could have met in freedom, I have always
been demanding that we should be called together. The first day that we were
called together, when the consuls elect were not present, I laid, in my opinion,
amidst the greatest unanimity on your part, the foundations of the republic;
later, indeed, than they should have been laid; for I could not do so before;
but still if no time had been lost after that day, we should have no war at all
now. Every evil is easily crushed at its
birth; when it has become of long standing, it usually gets stronger. But then
every body was waiting for the first of January; perhaps not very wisely.
However, let us say no more of what is past Are we still to allow any farther
delay while the ambassadors are on their road to him? and while they are coming
back again? and the time spent in waiting for them will make men doubt about the
war. And while the fact of the war is in doubt, how can men possibly be zealous
about the levies for the army?
Wherefore, O conscript fathers, I give my vote that there should be no mention
made of ambassadors. I think that the business that is to be done must be done
without any delay and instantly. I say that it is necessary that we should
decree that there is sedition abroad, that we should suspend the regular courts
of justice, order all men to wear the garb of war, and enlist men in all
quarters suspending all exemptions from military service in the city and in all
Italy except in Gaul. And
if this be done, the general opinion and report of your severity will overwhelm
the insanity of that wicked gladiator. He will feel that he has undertaken a war
against the republic; he will experience the sinews and vigor of a unanimous
senate. For at present he is constantly saying that it is a mere struggle
between parties. Between what parties? One party is defeated, the other is the
heart of Caius Caesar's party. Unless, indeed we believe that the party of
Caesar is attacked by Pansa and Hirtius the consuls and by Caius Caesar's son.
But this war has been kindled not by a struggle between parties, but by the
nefarious hopes of the most abandoned citizens; by whom all our estates and
properties had been marked down, and already distributed according as every one
has thought them desirable.
I have read the letter of Antonius which he sent to one of the septemviri, a thorough-paced scoundrel, a. colleague of his own.
“Look out, and see what you take a fancy to; what you do fancy you
shall certainly have.” See to what a man we are sending ambassadors;
against what a man we are delaying to make war; a man who does not even let us
draw lots for our fortunes, but hands us over to each man's caprice in such a
way, that he has not left even himself any thing untouched, or which has not
been promised to somebody. With this man, O conscript fathers, we must wage
war,—war, I say, and that instantly. We must reject the slow
proceedings of ambassadors.
Therefore, that we may not have a number of decrees to pass every day, I give my
vote that the whole republic should be committed to the consuls; and that they
should have a charge given them to defend the republic, and to take care
“that the republic suffer no injury.” And I give my vote
that those men who are in the army of Antonius be not visited with blame, if
they leave him before the first of February.
If you adopt these proposals or mine, O conscript fathers, you will in a short
time recover the liberty of the Roman people and your own authority. But if you
act with more mildness, still you will pass those resolutions, but perhaps you
will pass them too late. As to the general welfare of the republic, on which
you, O consuls, have consulted us, I think that I have proposed what is
sufficient.
The next question is about honors. And to this point I perceive that I must speak
next. But I will preserve the same order in paying respect to brave men, that is
usually preserved in asking their opinions.
Let us, therefore, according to the usages of our ancestors, begin with Brutus,
the consul elect; and, to say nothing of his former conduct,—which has
indeed been most admirable, but still such as has been praised by the individual
judgments of men, rather than by public authority,—what words can we
find adequate to his praise at this very time? For such great virtue requires no
reward except this one of praise and glory; and even if it were not to receive
that, still it would be content with itself, and would rejoice at being laid up
in the recollection of grateful citizens, as if it were placed in the full
light. The praise then of our deliberate opinion, and of our testimony in his
favor, must be given to Brutus. Therefore, O
conscript fathers, I give my vote that a resolution of the senate be passed a
these words:
“As Decimus Brutus, imperator, consul
elect, is maintaining the province of Gaul in obedience to the senate and people of Rome; and as he has enlisted and collected in
so short a time a very numerous army, being aided by the admirable zeal of the
municipal towns and colonies of the province of Gaul, which has deserved and still does deserve admirably well
of the republic; he has acted rightly and virtuously, and greatly for the
advantage of the republic. And that most excellent service done by Decimus
Brutus to the republic, is and always will be, grateful to the senate and people
of Rome. Therefore, the senate and the
Roman people is of opinion that the exertions, and prudence, and virtue of
Decimus Brutus, imperator and consul-elect, and the
incredible zeal and unanimity of the province of Gaul, have been a great assistance to the republic, at a most
critical time.”
What honor, O conscript fathers, can be too
great to be due to such a mighty service as this of Brutus, and to such
important aid as he has afforded the republic? For if Gaul had been open to Marcus
Antonius—if after having overwhelmed the municipal towns and colonies
unprepared to resist him, he had been able to penetrate into that farther
Gaul—what great danger would have hung over the republic! That most
insane of men, that man so headlong and furious in all his
courses,—would have been likely I suppose to hesitate at waging war
against us not only with his own army but with all the savage troops of
barbarism, so that even the wall of the Alps would not have enabled us to check his frenzy. These
thanks then will be deservedly paid to Decimus Brutus, who, before any authority
of yours had been interposed, acting on his own judgment and responsibility,
refused to receive him as consul, but repelled him from Gaul as an enemy, and preferred to be besieged
himself rather than to allow this city to be so. Let him therefore have, by your
decree, an everlasting testimony to this most important and glorious action, and
let Gaul,The
English reader must recollect that what is called Gaul in these orations, is Cisalpine Gaul,
containing what we now call the North of Italy, coming down as far south as Modena and Ravenna. which always is and
has been a protection to this empire and to the general liberty be deservedly
and truly praised for not having surrendered herself and her power to Antonius
but for having opposed him with them.
And, furthermore I give my vote that the most simple honors be decreed to Marcus
Lepidus as a reward for his eminent services to the republic. He has at all
times wished the Roman people to be free; and he gave the greatest proof of his
inclination and opinion on that day, when, while Antonius was placing the diadem
on Caesar's head, he turned his face away, and by his groans and sorrow showed
plainly what a hatred of slavery he had, how desirous he was for the Roman
people to be free, and how he had endured those things which he had endured,
more because of the necessity of the times, than because they harmonized with
his sentiments. And who of us can forget with what great moderation he behaved
during that crisis of the city which ensued after the death of Caesar? These are
great merits; but I hasten to speak of greater still. For (O ye immortal gods!) what could happen more to be
admired by foreign nations, or more to be desired by the Roman people than, at a
time when there was a most important civil war, the result of which we were all
dreading, that it should be extinguished by prudence rather than that arms and
violence should be able to put every thing to the hazard of a battle? And if
Caesar had been guided by the same principles in that odious and miserable war,
we should have—to say nothing of their father—the two sons
of Cnaeus Pompeius, that most illustrious and virtuous man, safe among us; men
whose piety and filial affection certainly ought not to have been their ruin.
Would that Marcus. Lepidus had been able to save them all! He showed that he
would have done so, by his conduct in cases where he had the power; when he
restored Sextus Pompeius to the state, a great ornament to the republic, and a
most illustrious monument of his clemency. Sad was that picture, melancholy was
the destiny then of the Roman people. For after Pompeius the father was dead, he
who was the light of the Roman people, the son too, who was wholly like his
father, was also slain. But all these
calamities appear to me to have been effaced by the kindness of the immortal
gods, Sextus Pompeius being preserved to the republic.
For which cause, reasonable and important as it is, and because Marcus Lepidus,
by his humanity and wisdom, has changed a most dangerous and extensive civil war
into peace and concord, I give my vote, that a resolution of the senate be drawn
up in these words:
“Since the affairs of the republic have repeatedly been well and
prosperously conducted by Marcus Lepidus, imperator, and Pontifex Maximus, and since the Roman people is fully
aware that kingly power is very displeasing to him; and since by his exertions,
and virtue, and prudence, and singular clemency and humanity, a most bitter
civil war has been extinguished; and Sextus
Pompeius Magnus, the son of Cnaeus, having submitted to the authority of this
order and laid down his arms, and, in accordance with the perfect good-will of
the senate and people of Rome, has
been restored to the state by Marcus Lepidus, imperator, and Pontifex Maximus; the senate and people of
Rome, in return for the important
and numerous services of Marcus Lepidus to the republic, declares that it places
great hopes of future tranquillity and peace and concord, in his virtue,
authority, and good fortune; and the senate and people of Rome will ever remember his services to the
republic; and it is decreed by the vote of this order, that a gilt equestrian
statue be erected to him in the Rostra, or in whatever other place in the forum
he pleases.”
And this honor, O conscript fathers, appears to me a very great one, in the first
place, because it is just;—for it is not merely given on account of
our hopes of the future, but it is paid, as it were, in requital of his ample
services already done. Nor are we able to mention any instance of this honor
having been conferred on any one by the senate by their own free and voluntary
judgment before.
I come now to Caius Caesar, O conscript fathers; if he had not existed, which of
us could have been alive now? That most intemperate of men, Antonius, was flying
from Brundusium to the city,
burning with hatred, with a disposition hostile to all good men, with an army.
What was there to oppose to his audacity and wickedness? We had not as yet any
generals, or any forces. There was no public council, no liberty; our necks were
at the mercy of his nefarious cruelty; we were all preparing to have recourse to
flight, though flight itself had no escape for us. Who was it—what god was it; who at that time gave
to the Roman people this godlike young man, who, while every means for
completing our destruction seemed open to that most pernicious citizen, rising
up on a sudden, beyond every one's hope, completed an army fit to oppose the
fury of Marcus Antonius before any one suspected that he was thinking of any
such step? Great honors were paid to Cnaeus Pompeius when he was a young man and
deservedly, for he came to the assistance of the republic but he was of a more
vigorous age and more calculated to meet the eager requirements of soldiers
seeking a general. He had also been already trained in other kinds of war. For
the cause of Sulla was not agreeable to all men. The multitude of the
proscribed, and the enormous calamities that fell on so many municipal towns
show this plainly. But Caesar, though many
years younger, armed veterans who were now eager to rest; he has embraced that
cause which was most agreeable to the senate, to the people, to all Italy,—in short, to gods and men.
And Pompeius came as a reinforcement to the extensive command and victorious
army of Lucius Sulla, Caesar had no one to join himself to. He of his own accord
was the author and executor of his plan of levying an army, and arraying a
defense for us. Pompeius found the whole Picene district hostile to the party of
his adversaries; but Caesar has levied an army against Antonius from men who
were Antonius's own friends, but still greater friends to liberty. It was owing
to the influence of Pompeius that Sulla was enabled to act like a king. It is by
the protection afforded us by Caesar that the tyranny of Antonius has been put
down.
Let us then confer on Caesar a regular
military command, without which the military affairs can not be directed, the
army can not be held together, war can not he waged. Let him be made propraetor
with all the privileges which have ever been attached to that appointment. That
honor, although it is a great one for a man of his age, still is not merely of
influence as giving dignity, but it confers powers calculated to meet the
present emergency. Therefore, let us seek for honors for him which we shall not
easily find at the present day.
But I hope that we and the Roman people shall often have an opportunity of
complimenting and honoring this young man.
But at the present moment I give my vote that we should pass a decree in this
form:
“As Caius Caesar, the son of Caius, pontiff and propraetor, has at a
most critical period of the republic exhorted the veteran soldiers to defend the
liberty of the Roman people, and has enlisted them in his army; and as the
Martial legion and the fourth legion, with great zeal for the republic, and with
admirable unanimity, under the guidance and authority of Caius Caesar, have
defended and are defending the republic and the liberty of the Roman people; and
as Caius Caesar, propraetor, has gone with his army as a reinforcement to the
province of Gaul; has made cavalry, and
archers, and elephants, obedient to himself and to the Roman people, and has, at
a most critical time for the republic, come to the aid of the safety and dignity
of the Roman people;—on these accounts, it seems good to the senate
that Caius Caesar, the son of Caius, pontiff and propraetor, shall be a senator,
and shall deliver his opinions from the bench occupied by men of praetorian
rank; and that, on occasion of his offering himself for any magistracy, he shall
be considered of the same legal standing and qualification as if he had been
quaestor the preceding year.”
For what reason can there be, O conscript
fathers, why we should not wish him to arrive at the highest honors at as early
an age as possible? For when, by the laws fixing the age at which men might be
appointed to the different magistracies, our ancestors fixed a more mature age
for the consulship, they were influenced by fears of the precipitation of youth;
Caius Caesar at his first entrance into life, has shown us that, in the case of
his eminent and unparalleled virtue, we have no need to wait for the progress of
age. Therefore our ancestors, those old men in the most ancient times, had no
laws regulating the age for the different offices; it was ambition which caused
them to be passed many years afterwards, in order that there might be among men
of the same age different steps for arriving at honors And it has often happened
that a disposition of great natural virtue has been lost before it had any
opportunity of benefiting the republic
But among the ancients, the Rulli, the Decii,
the Corvini, and many others and in more modern times the elder Africanus and
Titus Flaminius were made consuls very young, and performed such exploits as
greatly to extend the empire of the Roman people, and to embellish its name What
more? Did not the Macedonian Alexander, having begun to perform mighty deeds
from his earliest youth, die when he was only in his thirty-third year? And that
age is ten years less than that fixed by our laws for a man to be eligible for
the consulship. From which it may be plainly seen that the progress of virtue is
often swifter than that of age.
For as to the fear which those men, who are enemies of Caesar, pretend to
entertain, there is not the slightest reason to apprehend that he will be unable
to restrain and govern himself, or that he will be so elated by the honors which
he receives from us as to use his power without moderation. It is only natural, O conscript fathers, that the man who
has learned to appreciate real glory, and who feels that he is considered by the
senate and by the Roman knights and the whole Roman people a citizen who is dear
to, and a blessing to the republic, should think nothing whatever deserving of
being compared to this glory. Would that it had happened to Caius
Caesar—the father, I mean—when he was a young man, to be
beloved by the senate and by every virtuous citizen, but, having neglected to
aim at that, he wasted all the power of genius which he had in a most brilliant
degree, in a capricious pursuit of popular favor. Therefore, as he had not
sufficient respect for the senate and the virtuous part of the citizens, he
opened for himself that path for the extension of his power, which the virtue of
a free people was unable to bear.
But the principles of his son are widely different; who is not only beloved by
every one, but in the greatest degree by the most virtuous men. In him is placed
all our hope of liberty; from him already has our safety been received; for him
the highest honors are sought out and prepared. While therefore we are admiring his singular prudence, can we at the same
time fear his folly? For what can be more foolish than to prefer useless power,
such influence as brings envy in its train, and a rash and slippery ambition of
reigning, to real, dignified, solid glory? Has he seen this truth as a boy, and
when he has advanced in age will he cease to see it? “But he is an
enemy to some most illustrious and excellent citizens.” That
circumstance ought not to cause any fear. Caesar has sacrificed all those
enmities to the republic; he had made the republic his judge; he has made her
the directress of all his counsels and actions. For he is come to the service of
the republic in order to strengthen her, not to overturn her. I am well
acquainted with all the feelings of the young man: there is nothing dearer to
him than the republic, nothing which he considers of more weight than your
authority; nothing which he desires more than the approbation of virtuous men;
nothing which he accounts sweeter than genuine glory.
Wherefore you not only ought not to fear any
thing from him, but you ought to expect greater and better things still. Nor
ought you to apprehend with respect to a man who has already gone forward to
release Decimus Brutus from a siege, that the recollection of his domestic
injury will dwell in his bosom, and have more weight with him than the safety of
the city. I will venture even to pledge my own faith, O conscript fathers, to
you, and to the Roman people, and to the republic, which in truth, if no
necessity compelled me to do so, I would not venture to do, and in doing which
on slight grounds, I should be afraid of giving rise to a dangerous opinion of
my rashness in a most important business; but I do promise, and pledge myself,
and undertake, O conscript fathers, that Caius Caesar will always be such a
citizen as he is this day, and as we ought above all things to wish and desire
that he may turn out.
And as this is the case, I shall consider that I have said enough at present
about Caesar.
Nor do I think that we ought to pass over Lucius Egnatuleius, a most gallant and
wise and firm citizen, and one thoroughly attached to the republic, in silence;
but that we ought to give him our testimony to his admirable virtue, because it
was he who led the fourth legion to Caesar, to be a protection to the consuls,
and senate, and people of Rome, and
the republic. And for these acts I give my vote:
“That it be made lawful for Lucius Egnatuleius to stand for, and be
elected to, and discharge the duties of any magistracy, three years before the
legitimate time.”
And by this motion, O conscript fathers, Lucius Egnatuleius does not get so much
actual advantage as honor. For in a case like this it is quite sufficient to be
honorably mentioned.
But concerning the army of Caius Caesar, I give my vote for the passing of a
decree in this form:
“The senate decrees that the veteran soldiers who have defended and are
defending of Caesar, pontiff and the
authority of this order should and their children after them, have an exemption
from military service. And that Caius Pansa and Aulus Hirtius the consuls, one
or both of them, as they think fit, shall inquire what land there is in those
colonies in which the veteran soldiers have been settled which is occupied in
defiance of the provisions of the Julian law, in order that that may be divided
among these veterans. That they shall institute a separate inquiry about the
Campanian district, and devise a plan for the advantages enjoyed by these
veteran soldiers, and with respect to the Martial legion, and to the fourth
legion and to those soldiers of the second and thirty fifth legions who have
come over to Caius Pansa and Aulus Hirtius, the consuls, and have given in their
names, because the authority of the senate and the liberty of the Roman people
is and always has been most dear to them, the senate decrees that they and their
children shall have exemption from military service, except in the case of any
Gallic and Italian sedition; and decrees further, that those legions shall have
their discharge when this war is terminated; and that whatever sum of money
Caius Caesar, pontiff and propraetor, has promised to the soldiers of those
legions individually shall be paid to them. And that Caius Pansa and Aulus
Hirtius the consuls, one or both of them, as it seems good to them, shall make
an estimate of the land which can be distributed without injury to private
individuals; and that land shall be given and assigned to the soldiers of the
Martial legion and of the fourth legion, in the largest shares in which land has
ever been given and assigned to soldiers.”
I have now spoken, O consuls, on every point concerning which you have submitted
a motion to us; and if the resolutions which I have proposed be decreed without
delay, and seasonably, you will the more easily prepare those measures which the
present time and emergency demand. But instant action is necessary. And if we
had adopted that earlier, we should, as I have often said, now have no war at
all.
THE SIXTH ORATION OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. CALLED ALSO THE SIXTH PHILIPPIC. ADDRESSED TO THE PEOPLE.
THE ARGUMENT.
In respect of the honors proposed by Cicero in the last speech the senate
agreed with him, voting to Octavius honors beyond any that Cicero had
proposed. But they were much divided about the question of sending an
embassy to Antonius; and the consuls, seeing that a majority agreed with
Cicero, adjourned the debate till the next day. The discussion lasted three
days, and the senate would at last have adopted all Cicero's measures, if
one of the tribunes, Salvius, had not put his veto on them. So that at last
the embassy was ordered to be sent, and Servius Sulpicius, Lucius Piso, and
Lucius Philippus, appointed as the ambassadors; but they were charged merely
to order Antonius to abandon the siege of Mutina, and to desist from hostilities against the province
of Gaul; and farther, to proceed to
Decimus Brutus in Mutina, and to
give him and his army the thanks of the senate and people.
The length of the debates roused the curiosity of the people, who, being
assembled in the forum to learn the result, called on Cicero to come forth
and give them an account of what had been done; on which he went to the
rostra, accompanied by Publius Appuleius the tribune, and related to them
all that had passed in the following speech.
I imagine that you have heard, O Romans, what has been done in the senate and
what has been the opinion delivered by each individual. For the matter which has
been in discussion ever since the first of January, has been just brought to a
conclusion; with less severity indeed than it ought to have been, but still in a
manner not altogether unbecoming. The war has been subjected to a delay, but the
cause has not been removed. Wherefore, as to the question which Publius
Appuleius,—a man united to me by many kind offices and by the closest
intimacy, and firmly attached to your interests—has asked me, I will
answer in such a manner that you may be acquainted with the transactions at
which you were not present.
The cause which prompted our most fearless and
excellent consuls to submit a motion on the first of January, concerning the
general state of the republic, arose from the decree which the senate passed by
my advice on the nineteenth of December. On that day, O Romans were the
foundations of the republic first laid. For then, after a long interval, the
senate was free in such a manner that you too might become free. On which day,
indeed,—even if it had been to bring to me the end of my
life—I received a sufficient, reward for my exertions, when you all
with one heart and one voice cried out together, that the republic had been a
second time saved by me. Stimulated by so important and so splendid a decision
of yours in my favor, I came into the senate on the first of January, with the
feeling that I was bound to show my recollection of the character which you had
imposed upon me, and which I had to sustain.
Therefore, when I saw that a nefarious war was waged against the republic, I
thought that no delay ought to be interposed to our pursuit of Marcus Antonius,
and I gave my vote that we ought to pursue with war that most audacious man,
who, having committed many atrocious enemies before, was at this moment
attacking a general of the Roman people and besieging your most faithful and
gallant colony; and that a state of civil war ought to be proclaimed; and I said
farther, that my opinion was that a suspension of the ordinary forms of justice
should be declared, and that the garb of war should be assumed by the citizens,
in order that all men might apply themselves with more activity and energy to
avenging the injuries of the republic, if they saw that all the emblems of a
regular war had been adopted by the senate.
Therefore, this opinion of mine, O Romans, prevailed so much for three days,
that although no division was come to, still all, except a very few, appeared
inclined to agree with me. But today—I know not, owing to what
circumstance—the senate was more indulgent. For the majority decided
on our making experiment, by means of ambassadors, how much influence the
authority of the senate and your unanimity will have upon Antonius.
I am well aware, O Romans, that this decision is disapproved of by you; and
reasonably too. For to whom are we sending ambassadors? Is it not to him who,
after having dissipated and squandered the public money, and imposed laws on the
Roman people by violence and in violation of the auspices,—after
having put the assembly of the people to flight and besieged the senate, sent
for the legions from Brundusium
to oppress the republic? who, when deserted by them; has invaded Gaul with a troop of banditti? who is
attacking Brutus? who is besieging Mutina? How can you offer conditions to, or expect equity from,
or send an embassy to, or, in short, have any thing in common with, this
gladiator? Although, O Romans, it is not an
embassy, but a denunciation of war if he does not obey. For the decree has been
drawn up as if ambassadors were being sent to Hannibal. For men are sent to
order him not to attack the consul elect, not to besiege Mutina, not to lay waste the province, not
to enlist troops, but to submit himself to the power of the senate and people of
Rome. No doubt he is a likely man
to obey this injunction, and to submit to the power of the conscript fathers and
to yours, who has never even had any mastery over himself. For what has he ever
done that showed any discretion, being always led away wherever his lust, or his
levity, or his frenzy, or his drunkenness has hurried him? He has always been
under the dominion of two very dissimilar classes of men, pimps and robbers; he
is so fond of domestic adulteries and forensic murders, that he would rather
obey a most covetous woman than the senate and people of Rome.
Therefore, I will do now before you what I have just done in the senate. I call
you to witness, I give notice, I predict beforehand, that Marcus. Antonius will
do nothing whatever of those things which the ambassadors are commissioned to
command him to do; but that he will lay waste the lands, and besiege Mutina, and enlist soldiers, wherever he
can. For he is a man who has at all times despised the judgment and authority of
the senate, and your inclinations and power. Will he do what it has been just
now decreed that he shall do,—lead his army back across the Rubicon,
which is the frontier of Gaul, and yet
at the same time not come nearer Rome
than two hundred miles? Will he obey this notice? will he allow himself to be
confined by the river Rubicon, and by the limit of two hundred miles? Antonius is not that sort of man. For if he had been,
he would never have allowed matters to come to such a pass, as for the senate to
give him notice, as it did to Hannibal at the beginning of the Punic war not to
attack Saguntum. But what ignominy it
is to be called away from Mutina,
and at the same time to be forbidden to approach the city as if he were some
fatal conflagration! what an opinion is this for the senate to have of a man!
What? As to the commission which is given to the ambassadors to visit Decimus
Brutus and his soldiers, and to inform them that their excellent zeal in behalf
of, and services done to the republic, are acceptable to the senate and people
of Rome, and that that conduct shall
tend to their great glory and to their great honor; do you think that Antonius
will permit the ambassadors to enter Mutina? and to depart from thence in safety? He never will
allow it, believe me. I know the violence of the man, I know his impudence, I
know his audacity.
Nor, indeed, ought we to think of him as of a
human being, but as of a most ill-omened beast. And as this is the case, the
decree which the senate has passed is not wholly improper. The embassy has some
severity in it; I only wish it had no delay. For as in the conduct of almost
every affair slowness and procrastination are hateful, so above all things does
this war require promptness of action. We must assist Decimus Brutus; we must
collect all our forces from all quarters; we can not lose a single hour in
effecting the deliverance of such a citizen without wickedness. Was it not in his power, if he had considered Antonius a
consul, and Gaul the province of
Antonius, to have given over the legions and the province to Antonius? and to
return home himself? and to celebrate a triumph? and to be the first man in this
body to deliver his opinion, until he entered on his magistracy? What was the
difficulty of doing that? But as he remembered
that he was Brutus, and that he was born for your freedom, not for his own
tranquillity, what else did he do but—as I may almost
say—put his own body in the way to prevent Antonius from entering
Gaul? Ought we then to send
ambassadors to this man, or legions? However, we will say nothing of what is
past. Let the ambassadors hasten, as I see that they are about to do. Prepare
your robes of war. For it has been decreed, that, if he does not obey the
authority of the senate, we are all to betake ourselves to our military dress.
And we shall have to do so. He will never obey. And we shall lament that we have
lost so many days, when we might have been doing something.
I have no fear, O Romans, that when Antonius hears that I have asserted, both in
the senate and in the assembly of the people, that he never will submit himself
to the power of the senate, he will, for the sake of disproving my words, and
making me to appear to have had no foresight, alter his behavior and obey the
senate. He will never do so. He will not grudge me this part of my reputation;
he will prefer letting me be thought wise by you to being thought modest
himself. Need I say more? Even if he were
willing to do so himself, do you think that his brother Lucius would permit him?
It has been reported that lately at Tibur, when Marcus Antonius appeared to him to he wavering, he,
Lucius, threatened his brother with death. And do we suppose that the orders of
the senate, and the words of the ambassadors, will be listened to by this.
Asiatic gladiator? It will be impossible for him to be separated from a brother,
especially from one of so much authority. For he is another Africanus among
them. He is considered of more influence than Lucius Trebellius, of more than
Titus Plancus a noble young man. As for Plancus, who, having
been condemned by the unanimous vote of every one, amid the overpowering
applause of you yourselves, somehow or other got mixed up in this crowd, and
returned with a countenance so sorrowful, that he appeared to have been dragged
back rather than to have returned, he despises him to such degree, as if he were
interdicted from fire and water. At times he says that that man who set the
senate-house on fire has no right to a place in the senate-house. For at this moment he is exceedingly in love with
Trebellius. He hated him some time ago, when he was opposing an abolition of
debts; but now he delights in him, ever since he has seen that Trebellius
himself can not continue in safety without an abolition of debts. For I think
that you have heard, O Romans, what indeed you may possibly have seen, that the
sureties and creditors of Lucius Trebellius meet every day. Oh confidence! for I
imagine that Trebellius has taken this surname; what can be greater confidence
than defrauding one's creditors? than flying from one's house? than, because of
one's debts, being forced to go to war? What has become of the applauses which
he received on the occasion of Caesar's triumph, and often at the games? Where
is the aedileship that was conferred on him by the zealous efforts of all good
men? who is there who does not now think that he acted virtuously by accident?
However, I return to your love and especial delight, Lucius Antonius, who has
admitted you all to swear allegiance to him. Do you deny it? is there any one of
you who does not belong to a tribe? Certainly not. But thirty-five tribes have
adopted him for their patron. Do you again cry out against my statement? Look at
that gilt statue of him on the left: what is the inscription upon it?
“The thirty-five tribes to their patron.” Is then Lucius
Antonius the patron of the Roman people? Plague take him! For I fully assent to
your outcry. I won't speak of this bandit whom no one would choose to have for a
client; but was there ever a man possessed of such influence, or illustrious and
mighty deeds, as to dare to call himself the patron of the whole Roman people,
the conqueror and master of all nations? We
see in the forum a statue of Lucius Antonius; just as we see one of Quintus
Tremulus, who conquered the Hernici, before the temple of Castor. Oh the
incredible impudence of the man! Has he assumed all this credit to himself,
because as a mirmillo at Mylasa he
slew the Thracian, his friend? How should we be able to endure him, if he had
fought in this forum before the eyes of you all? But, however, this is but one
statue. He has another erected by the Roman knights who received horses from the
state;After the year B.C. 403, there were two classes of Roman knights; one of which received
a horse from the state, and were included in the eighteen centuries of
service; the other class, first mentioned by Livy (v.
7) in the account of the siege of Veii, served with their own horses, and instead of having a
horse found them, received a certain pay (three times that of the infantry),
and were not included in the eighteen centuries of service. The original
knights, to distinguish them from these latter, are often called equites equo publico, sometimes also flexumines or trossuli.
Vide Smith, Dict. Ant. p. 394-96, v. Equites. and they too inscribe on that, “To
their patron.” Who was ever before adopted by that order as its
patron? If it ever adopted any one as such, it ought to have adopted me. What
censor was ever so honored? what imperator?
“But he distributed land among them.” Shame on their sordid
natures for accepting it! shame on his dishonesty for giving it!
Moreover, the military tribunes who were in the army of Caesar have erected him a
statue. What order is that? There have been plenty of tribunes
in our numerous legions in so many years.
Among them he has distributed the lands of Semurium. The Campus Martius was all that was left, if he
had not first fled with his brother. But this allotment of lands was put an end
to a little while ago, O Romans, by the declaration of his opinion by Lucius
Caesar, a most illustrious man and a most admirable senator. For we all agreed
with him and annulled the acts of the septemvirs. So all the kindness of
NuculaHe had been one of the septemvirs appointed to
preside over the distribution of the lands. goes for nothing; and the
patron Antonius is at a discount. For those who had taken possession will depart
with more equanimity. They had not been at any expense; they had not yet
furnished or stocked their domains, partly because they did not feel sure of
their title, and partly because they had no money.
But as for that splendid statue, concerning which, if the times were better, I
could not speak without laughing, “To Lucius. Antonius, patron of the
middle of Janus.”Janus was the name of a street
near the temple of Janus, especially frequented by bankers and usurers. It
was divided into summus, medius and imus. Horace
says:—
“Haec Janus summus ab imo
Edocet
Postquam omnis res mea Janum
Ad medium fracta est.”
Is it so? Is the middle of Janus a client of Lucius
Antonius? Who ever was found in that Janus who would have lent Lucius Antonius a
thousand sesterces?
However, we have been spending too much time in trifles. Let us return to our
subject and to the war. Although it was not wholly foreign to the subject for
some characters to be thoroughly appreciated by you, in order that you might in
silence think over who they were against whom you were to wage war.
But I exhort you, O Romans, though perhaps other measures might have been wiser,
still now to wait with calmness for the return of the ambassadors. Promptness of
action has been taken from our side; but still some good has accrued to it.
For when the ambassadors have reported
what they certainly will report, that Antonius will not submit to you nor to the
senate, who then will be so worthless a citizen as to think him deserving of
being accounted a citizen? For at present there are men, few indeed, but still
more than there ought to be, or than the republic deserves that there should be,
who speak in this way,—“Shall we not even wait for the
return of the ambassadors?” Certainly the republic itself will force
them to abandon that expression and that pretense of clemency. On which account,
to confess the truth to you, O Romans, I have less striven today, and labored
all the less today, to induce the senate to agree with me in decreeing the
existence of a seditious war and ordering the apparel of war to be assumed. I
preferred having my sentiments applauded by every one in twenty day's time, to
having it blamed today by a few. Wherefore, O
Romans, wait now for the return of the ambassadors and devour your annoyance for
a few days. And when they do return if they bring back peace, believe me that I
have been desirous that they should if they bring back war, then allow me the
praise of foresight. Ought I not to be provident for the welfare of my
fellow-citizens? Ought I not day and night to think of your freedom and of the
safety of the republic? For what do I not owe to you, O Romans, since you have
preferred for all the honors of the state a man who is his own father to the
most nobly born men in the republic? Am I ungrateful? Who is less so? I, who,
after I had obtained those honors, have constantly labored in the forum with the
same exertions as I used while striving for them. Am I inexperienced in state
affairs? Who has had more practice than I, who have now for twenty years been
waging war against impious citizens?
Wherefore, O Romans, with all the prudence of which I am master, and with almost
more exertion than I am capable of, will I put forth my vigilance and
watchfulness in your behalf In truth, what citizen is there, especially in this
rank in which you have placed me, so forgetful of your kindness, so unmindful of
his country, so hostile to his own dignity, as not to be roused and stimulated
by your wonderful unanimity? I, as consul, have held many assemblies of the
people; I have been present at many others; I have never once seen one so
numerous as this one of yours now is. You have all one feeling, you have all one
desire, that of averting the attempts of Marcus Antonius from the republic, of
extinguishing his frenzy and crushing his audacity. All orders have the same
wish. The municipal towns, the colonies, and all Italy are laboring for the same end. Therefore you have made
the senate, which was already pretty firm of its own accord, firmer still by
your authority. The time has come, O Romans,
later altogether than for the honor of the Roman people it should have been, but
still so that the things are now so ripe that they do not admit of a moment's
delay. There has been a sort of fatality, if I may say so, which we have borne
as it was necessary to bear it. But hereafter if any disaster happens to us it
will be of our own seeking. It is impossible for the Roman people to be slaves;
that people whom the immortal gods have ordained should rule over all nations.
Matters are now come to a crisis. We are fighting for our freedom. Either you
must conquer, O Romans, which indeed you will do if you continue to act with
such piety and such unanimity, or you must do anything rather than become
slaves. Other nations can endure slavery, Liberty is the inalienable possession
of the Roman people.
THE SEVENTH ORATION OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. CALLED ALSO THE SEVENTH PHILIPPIC
THE ARGUMENT.
After the senate had decided on sending them, the ambassadors immediately set
out, though Servius Sulpicius was in a very bad state of health. In the
meantime the partisans of Antonius in the city, with Calenus at their head,
were endeavoring to gain over the rest of the citizens, by representing him
as eager for an accommodation and they kept up a correspondence with him,
and published such of his letters as they thought favorable for their views.
Matters being in this state, Cicero, at an ordinary meeting of the senate,
made the following speech to counteract the machinations of this party and
to warn the citizens generally of the danger of being deluded by them.
We are consulted to day about matters of small importance, but still perhaps
necessary, O conscript fathers. The consul submits a motion to us about the
Appian road and about the coinage; the tribune of the people one about the
Luperci. And although it seems easy to settle such matters as those, still my
mind can not fix itself on such subjects, being anxious about more important
matters. For our affairs, O conscript fathers, are come to a crisis, and are in
a state of almost extreme danger. It is not without reason that I have always
feared and never approved of that sending of ambassadors. And what their return
is to bring us I know not; but who is there who does not see with how much
languor the expectation of it infects our minds? For those men put no restraint
on themselves who knew that the senate has revived so as to entertain hopes of
its former authority, and that the Roman people is united to this our order;
that all Italy is animated by one
common feeling; that armies are prepared, and generals ready for the armies;
even already they are inventing replies
for Antonius and defending them. Some pretend that his demand is that all the
armies be disbanded. I suppose then we sent ambassadors to him, not that he
should submit and obey this our body, but that he should offer us conditions,
impose laws upon us, order us to open Italy to foreign nations; especially while we were to leave him
in safety from whom there is more danger to be feared than from any nation
whatever. Others say that he is willing to
give up the nearer Gaul to us, and that
he will be satisfied with the farther Gaul. Very kind of him! in order that from thence be may
endeavor to bring not merely legions, but even nations against this city. Others
say that he makes no demands now but such as are quite moderate. Macedonia he calls absolutely his own, since
it was from thence that his brother Caius was recalled. But what province is
there in which that fire-brand may not kindle a conflagration? Therefore those
same men like provident citizens and diligent senators, say that I have sounded
the charge, and they undertake the advocacy of peace. Is not this the way in
which they argue? “Antonius ought not to have been irritated; he is a
reckless and a bold man; there are many bad men besides him.” (No
doubt, and they may begin and count themselves first.) And they warn us to be on
our guard against them. Which conduct then is it which shows the more prudent
caution; chastising wicked citizens when one is able to do so, or fearing them?
And these men speak in this way, who on account of their trifling disposition
used to be considered friends of the people. From which it may be understood
that they in their hearts have at all times been disinclined to a good
constitution of the state, and they were not friends of the people from
inclination. For how comes it to pass that those men who were anxious to gratify
the people in evil things, now, on an occasion which above all others concerns
the people's interests, because the same thing would be also salutary for the
republic, now prefer being wicked to being friends of the people? This noble cause of which I am the advocate has made
me popular, a man who (as you know) has always opposed the rashness of the
people. And those men are called, or rather they call themselves, consulars;
though no man is worthy of that name except those who can support so high an
honor. Will you favor an enemy? Will you let him send you letters about his
hopes of success? Will you be glad to produce them? to read them? Will you even
give them to wicked citizens to take copies of? Will you thus raise their
courage? Will you thus damp the hopes and valor of the good? And then will you
think yourself a consular, or a senator, or even a citizen! Caius Pansa, a most
fearless and virtuous consul, will take what I say in good part. For I will
speak with a disposition most friendly to him; but I should not consider him
himself a consul, though a man with whom I am most intimate, unless he was such
a consul as to devote all his vigilance, and cares, and thoughts to the safety
of the republic.
Although long acquaintance, and habit, and a fellowship and resemblance in the
most honorable pursuits, has bound us together from his first entrance into
life; and his incredible diligence, proved at the time of the most formidable
dangers of the civil war, showed that he was a favorer not only of my safety,
but also of my dignity; still as I said before if he were not such a consul as I
have described, I should venture to deny that he was a consul at all. But now I
call him not only a consul but the most excellent and virtuous consul within my
recollection; not but that there have been others of equal virtue and equal
inclination, but still they have not had an equal opportunity of displaying the
virtue and inclination. But the opportunity of
a time of most formidable change has been afforded to his magnanimity and
dignity and wisdom. And that is the time when the consulship is displayed to the
greatest advantage when it governs the republic during a time which if not
desirable is at all events critical and momentous. And a more critical time than
the present, O conscript father, never was.
Therefore I who have been at all times an adviser of peace, and who, though all
good men was considered peace and especially internal peace, desirable, have
considered it more than all of them;—for the whole of career of my
industry has been passed in the forum and in the senate-house and in warding off
dangers from my friends. It is by this course that I have arrived at the highest
honors, at moderate wealth, and at any dignity which we may be thought to have:
I therefore, a nursling of peace, as I may
call myself, I who, whatever I am (for I arrogate nothing to myself), should
undoubtedly not have been such without internal peace: I am speaking in peril: I
shudder to think how you will receive it, O conscript fathers; but still, out of
regard for my unceasing desire to support and increase your dignity, I beg and
entreat you, O conscript fathers, although it may be a bitter thing to hear, or
an incredible thing that it should be said by Marcus Cicero, still to receive at
first, without offense, what I am going to say, and not to reject it before I
have fully explained what it is. I, who, I will say so over and over again, have
always been a panegyrist, have always been an adviser of peace, do not wish to
have peace with Marcus Antonius. I approach the rest of my speech with great
hope, O conscript fathers, since I have now passed by that perilous point amid
your silence.
Why then do I not wish for peace? Because it
would be shameful; because it would be dangerous; because it can not possibly be
real. And while I explain these three points to you, I beg of you, O conscript
fathers, to listen to my words with the same kindness which you usually show to
me.
What is more shameful than inconsistency, fickleness, and levity, both to
individuals, and also to the entire senate? Moreover, what can be more
inconsistent than on a sudden to be willing to be united in peace with a man
whom you have lately adjudged to be an enemy, not by words, but by actions and
by many formal decrees? Unless, indeed, when
you were decreeing honors to Caius Caesar, well deserved indeed by and fairly
due to him, but still unprecedented and never to be forgotten, for one single
reason,—because he had levied an army against Marcus
Antonius,—you were not judging Marcus Antonius to be an enemy; and
unless. Antonius was not pronounced an enemy by you, when the veteran soldiers
were praised by your authority, for having followed Caesar; and unless you did
not declare Antonius an enemy when you promised exemptions and money and lands
to those brave legions, because they had deserted him who was consul while he
was an enemy.
What? when you distinguished with the highest praises Brutus, a man born under
some omen, as it were, of his race and name, for the deliverance of the
republic, and his army which was waging war against Antonius on behalf of the
liberty of the Roman people, and the most loyal and admirable province of
Gaul, did you not then pronounce
Antonius an enemy? What? when you decreed that the consuls, one or both of them,
should go to the war, what war was there if Antonius was not an enemy?
Why then was it that most gallant man, my
own colleague and intimate friend, Aulus Hirtius the consul, has set out? And in
what delicate health he is; how wasted away! But the weak state of his body
could not repress the vigor of his mind. He thought it fair, I suppose, to
expose to danger in defense of the Roman people that life which had been
preserved to him by their prayers. What? when
you ordered levies of troops to be made throughout all Italy, when you suspended all exemptions from
service, was he not by those steps declared to be an enemy? You see
manufactories of arms in the city; soldiers, sword in hand, are following the
consul; they are in appearance a guard to the consul, but in fact and reality to
us; all men are giving in their names, not only without any shirking, but with
the greatest eagerness; they are acting in obedience to your authority. Has not
Antonius been declared an enemy by such acts?
“Oh, but we have sent ambassadors to him.” Alas, wretched
that I am! why am I compelled to find fault with the senate whom I have always
praised? Why? Do you think, O conscript fathers that you have induced the Roman
people to approve of the sending ambassadors? Do you not perceive, do you not
hear that the adoption of my opinion is demanded by them? that opinion which
you, in a full house, agreed to the day before, though the day after you allowed
yourselves to be brought down to a groundless hope of peace. Moreover, how
shameful it is for the legions to send out ambassadors to the senate, and the
senate to Antonius! Although that is not an embassy; it is a denunciation that
destruction is prepared for him if he does not submit to this order. What is the
difference? At all events, men's opinions are unfavorable to the measure; for
all men see that ambassadors have been sent, but it is not all who are
acquainted with the terms of your decree.
You must, therefore, preserve your consistency, your wisdom, your firmness, your
perseverance. You must go back to the old-fashioned severity, if at least the
authority of the senate is anxious to establish its credit, its honor, its
renown, and its dignity, things which this order has been too long deprived of.
But there was some time ago some excuse for it, as being oppressed; a miserable
excuse indeed, but still a fair one; now there is none. We appeared to have been
delivered from kingly tyranny; and afterward we were oppressed much more
severely by domestic enemies. We did indeed turn their arms aside; we must now
wrest them from their hands. And if we can not do so (I will say what it becomes
one who is both a senator and a Roman to say), let us die. For how just will be the shame, how great will be the
disgrace, how great the infamy to the republic, if Marcus Antonius can deliver
his opinion in this assembly from the consular bench. For, to say nothing of the
countless acts of wickedness committed by him while consul in the city, during
which time he has squandered a vast amount of public money, restored exiles
without any law, sold our revenues to all sorts of people, removed provinces
from the empire of the Roman people, given men kingdoms for bribes, imposed laws
on the city by violence, besieged the senate, and, at other times, excluded it
from the senate-house by force of arms;—to say nothing, I say, of all
this, do you not consider this, that he who has attacked Mutina, a most powerful colony of the Roman
people—who has besieged a general of the Roman people, who is consul
elect—who has laid waste the lands,—do you not consider, I
say, how shameful and iniquitous a thing it would be for that man to be received
into this order, by which he has been so repeatedly pronounced an enemy for
these very reasons?
I have said enough of the shamefulness of such a proceeding; I will now speak
next, as I proposed, of the danger of it; which, although it is not so important
to avoid as shame, still offends the minds of the greater part of mankind even
more.
Will it then be possible for you to rely on the certainty of any peace, when you
see Antonius, or rather the Antonii, in the city? Unless, indeed, you despise
Lucius: I do not despise even Caius. But, as I think, Lucius will be the
dominant spirit,—for he is the patron of the five-and-thirty tribes,
whose votes he took away by his law, by which he divided the magistracies in
conjunction with Caius Caesar. He is the patron of the centuries of the Roman
knights, which also he thought fit to deprive of the suffrages: he is the patron
of the men who have been military tribunes; he is the patron of the middle of
Janus. O ye gods! who will he able to support
this man's power? especially when he has brought all his dependents into the
lands. Who ever was the patron of all the tribes? and of the Roman knights? and
of the military tribunes? Do you think that the power of even the Gracchi was
greater than that of this gladiator will be? whom I have called gladiator, not
in the sense in which sometimes Marcus. Antonius too is called gladiator, but as
men call him who are speaking plain Latin. He has fought in Asia as a mirmillo. After having equipped his
own companion and intimate friend in the armor of a Thracian, he slew the
miserable man as he was flying; but he himself received a palpable wound, as the
scar proves.
What will the man who murdered his friend in
this way, when he has an opportunity, do to an enemy? and if he did such a thing
as this for the fun of the thing, what do you think he will do when tempted by
the hope of plunder? Will he not again meet wicked men in the decuries? will he
not again tamper with those men who have received lands? will he not again seek
those who have been banished? will he not, in short, be Marcus Antonius; to
whom, on the occasion of every commotion, there will be a rush of all profligate
citizens? Even if there be no one else except those who are with him now, and
these who in this body now openly speak in his favor, will they be too small in
number? especially when all the protection which we might have had from good men
is lost, and when those men are prepared to obey his nod? But I am afraid, if at
this time we fail to adopt wise counsels, that that party will in a short time
appear too numerous for us. Nor have I any
dislike to peace; only I do dread war disguised under the name of peace.
Wherefore, if we wish to enjoy peace we must first wage war. If we shrink from
war, peace we shall never have.
But it becomes your prudence, O conscript fathers, to provide as far forward as
possible for posterity. That is the object for which we were placed in this
garrison, and as it were on this watch-tower; that by our vigilance and
foresight we might keep the Roman people free from fear. It would be a shameful
thing, especially in so clear a case as this, for it to be notorious that wisdom
was wanting to the chief council of the whole world. We have such consuls, there is such eagerness on the part
of the Roman people, we have such a unanimous feeling of all Italy in our favor, such generals, and such
armies, that the republic cannot possibly suffer any disaster without the senate
being in fault. I, for my part, will not be wanting. I will warn you, I will
forewarn you, I will give you notice, I will call gods and men to witness what I
do really believe. Nor will I display my good faith alone, which perhaps may
seem to be enough, but which in a chief citizen is not enough; I will exert all
my care, and prudence, and vigilance.
I have spoken about danger. I will now proceed to prove to you that it is not
possible for peace to be firmly cemented; for of the propositions which I
promised to establish this is the last.
What peace can there be between Marcus Antonius and (in the first, place) the
senate? with what face will he be able to look upon you, and with what eyes will
you, in turn, look upon him? Which of you does not hate him? which of you does
not he hate? Come, are you the only people who hate him, and whom he hates?
What? what do you think of those men who are besieging Mutina, who are levying
troops in Gaul, who are threatening
your fortunes? will they ever be friends to you, or you to them? will he embrace
the Roman knights? For, suppose their inclinations respecting, and their
opinions of Antonius were very much concealed, when they stood in crowds on the
steps of the temple of Concord, when they stimulated you to endeavor to recover
your liberty, when they demanded arms, the robe of war, and war, and who, with
the Roman people, invited me to meet in the assembly of the people, will these
men ever become friends to Antonius? will Antonius ever maintain peace with
them? For why should I speak of the whole
Roman people? which, in a full and crowded forum, twice, with one heart and one
voice, summoned me into the assembly, and plainly showed their excessive
eagerness for the recovery of their liberty. So, desirable as it was before to
have the Roman people for our comrade, we now have it for our leader.
What hope then is there that there ever can be peace between the Roman people and
the men who are besieging Mutina and
attacking a general and army of the Roman people? Will there be peace with the municipal towns, whose great
zeal is shown by the decrees which they pass, by the soldiers whom they furnish,
by the sums which they promise, so that in each town there is such a spirit as
leaves no one room to wish for a senate of the Roman people? The men of Firmium
deserve to be praised by a resolution of our order, who set the first example of
promising money; we ought to return a complimentary answer to the Marrucini, who
have passed a vote that all who evade military service are to be branded with
infamy. These measures are adopted all over Italy. There is great peace between Antonius and these men, and
between them and him! What greater discord can there possibly be? And in discord
civil peace can not by any possibility exist.
To say nothing of the mob, look at Lucius Visidius, a Roman knight, a man of the
very highest accomplishments and honor, a citizen always eminent, whose
watchfulness and exertions for the protection of my life I felt in my
consulship; who not only exhorted his neighbors to become soldiers, but also
assisted them from his own resources; will it be possible ever to reconcile
Antonius to such a man as this, a man whom we ought to praise by a formal
resolution of the senate? What? will it be possible to reconcile him to Caius
Caesar, who prevented him from entering the city, or to Decimus Brutus, who has
refused him entrance into Gaul?
Moreover, will he reconcile himself to,
or look mercifully on the province of Gaul, by which he has been excluded and rejected? You will see
every thing, O conscript fathers, if you do not take care, full of hatred and
full of discord, from which civil wars arise. Do not then desire that which is
impossible; and beware, I entreat you by the immortal gods, O conscript fathers,
that out of hope of present peace you do not lose perpetual peace.
What now is the object of this oration? For we do not yet know what the
ambassadors have done. But still we ought to be awake, erect, prepared, armed in
our minds, so as not to be deceived by any civil or supplicatory language, or by
any pretense of justice. He must have complied with all the prohibitions and all
the commands which we have sent him, before he can demand any thing. He must
have desisted from attacking Brutus and his army, and from plundering the cities
and lands of the province of Gaul; he
must have permitted the ambassadors to go to Brutus, and led his army back on
this side of the Rubicon, and yet not come within two hundred miles of this
city. He must have submitted himself to the power of the senate and of the Roman
people. If he does this, then we shall have an opportunity of deliberating
without any decision being forced upon us either way. If he does not obey the
senate, then it will not be the senate that declares war against him, but he who
will have declared it against the senate.
But I warn you, O conscript fathers, the liberty of the Roman people, which is
entrusted to you, is at stake. The life and fortune of every virtuous man is at
stake, against which Antonius has long been directing his insatiable
covetousness, united to his savage cruelty. Your authority is at stake, which
you will wholly lose if you do not maintain it now. Beware how you let that foul
and deadly beast escape now that you have got him confined and chained. You too,
Pansa, I warn (although you do not need counsel, for you have plenty of wisdom
yourself: but still, even the most skillful pilots receive often warnings from
the passengers in terrible storms.), not to allow this vast and noble
preparation which you have made to fall away to nothing. You have such an
opportunity as no one ever had. It is in your power so to avail yourself of this
wise firmness of the senate, of this zeal of the equestrian order, of this ardor
of the Roman people, as to release the Roman people from fear and danger
forever. As to the matters to which your motion before the senate refers, I
agree with Publius Servilius.
THE EIGHTH ORATION OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. CALLED ALSO THE EIGHTH PHILIPPIC.
THE ARGUMENT.
After the embassy to Antonius had left Rome, the consuls zealously exerted themselves in preparing
for war, in case he should reject the demands of the ambassadors. Hirtius,
though in bad health, left Rome
first, at the head of an army containing, among others, the Martial and the
fourth legions; intending to join Octavius, and hoping with his assistance
to prevent his gaining any advantage over Brutus till Pansa could join them.
And he gained some advantages over Antonius at once.
About the beginning of February the two remaining ambassadors (for Servius
Sulpicius had died just as they arrived at Antonius's camp) returned,
bringing word that Antonius would comply with none of the commands of the
senate, nor allow them to proceed to Decimus Brutus; and bringing also
(contrary to their duty) demands from him, of which the principal were, that
his troops were to be rewarded, all the acts of himself and Dolabella to be
ratified, as also all that he had done respecting Caesar's papers; that no
account was to be required of him of the money in the temple of Ops; and
that he should have the further Gaul with an army of six legions.
Pansa summoned the senate to receive the report of the ambassadors when
Cicero made a severe speech, proposing very vigorous measures against
Antonius; which, however, Calenus and his party were still numerous enough
to mitigate very greatly; and even Pansa voted against him and in favor of
the milder measures; though they could not prevail against Cicero to have a
second embassy sent to Antonius, and though Cicero carried his point of
ordering the citizens to assume the sagum, or
robe of war, which he also (waiving his privilege as a man of consular rank)
wore himself The next day the senate met again, to draw up in form the
decrees on which they had resolved the day before; when Cicero addressed the
following speech to them, expostulating with them for their wavering the day
before.
Matters were carried on yesterday, O Caius Pansa, in a more irregular manner than
the beginning of your consulship required. You did not appear to me to make
sufficient resistance to those men, to whom you are not in the habit of
yielding. For while the virtue of the senate was such as it usually is, and
while all men saw that there was war in reality, and some thought that the name
ought to be kept back; on the division, your inclination inclined to lenity. The
course which we proposed therefore was defeated, at your instigation, on account
of the harshness of the word war. That urged by Lucius Caesar, a most honorable
man, prevailed, which, taking away that one harsh expression, was gentler in its
language than in its real intention. Although he, indeed, before he delivered
his opinion at all, pleaded his relationship to Antonius in excuse for it. He
had done the same in my consulship, in respect of his sister's husband, as he
did now in respect of his sister's son; so that he was moved by the grief of his
sister, and at the same time he wished to provide for the safety of the
republic.
And yet Caesar himself in some degree recommended you, o conscript fathers, not
to agree with him, when he said that he should have expressed quite different
sentiments, worthy both of himself and of the republic, if he had not been
hampered by his relationship to Antonius. He, then, is his uncle; are you his
uncles too, you who voted with him?
But on what did the dispute turn? Some men, in delivering their opinion, did not
choose to insert the word “war.” They preferred calling it
“tumult,” being ignorant not only of the state of affairs,
but also of the meaning of words. For there
can be a “war” without a “tumult,” but
there can not be a “tumult” without a
“war.” For what is a “tumult,” but such
a violent disturbance that an unusual alarm is engendered by it? from which
indeed the name “tumult”I.e. tumultus, as if it were timor
multus. is derived. Therefore, our ancestors spoke of
the Italian “tumult,” which was a domestic one; of the
Gallic “tumult,” which was on the frontier of Italy; but they never spoke of any other. And
that a “tumult” is a more serious thing than a war may be
seen from this, that during a war exemptions from military service are valid;
but in a tumult they are not. So that it is the fact, as I have said, that war
can exist without a tumult, but a tumult can not exist without a war. In truth, as there is no medium between war and
peace, it is quite plain that a tumult, if it be not a sort of war, must be a
sort of peace; and what more absurd can be said or imagined? However, we have
said too much about a word, let us rather look to the facts, O conscript
fathers, the appreciation of which, I know, is at times injured by too much
attention being paid to words.
We are unwilling that this should appear to be a war. What is the object, then,
of our giving authority to the municipal towns and colonies to exclude Antonius?
of our authorizing soldiers to be enlisted without any force, without the terror
of any fine, of their own inclination and eagerness? of permitting them to
promise money for the assistance of the republic? For if the name of war be
taken away, the zeal of the municipal towns will be taken away too. And the
unanimous feeling of the Roman people which at present pours itself into our
cause, if we cool upon it, must inevitably be damped.
But why need I say more? Decimus Brutus is attacked. Is not that war? Mutina is besieged. Is not even that war?
Gaul is laid waste. What peace can
be more assured than this? Who can think of calling that war? We have sent forth
a consul, a most gallant man, with an army, who, though he was in a weak state
from a long and serious illness, still thought he ought not to make any excuse
when he was summoned to the protection of the republic. Caius Caesar, indeed,
did not wait for our decrees; especially as that conduct of his was not unsuited
to his age. He undertook war against Antonius of his own accord; for there was
not yet time to pass a decree; and he saw that, if he let slip the opportunity
of waging war, when the republic was crushed it would be impossible to pass any
decrees at all. They and their arms, then, are
now at peace. He is not an enemy whose garrison Hirtius has driven from
Claterna; he is not an enemy
who is in arms resisting a consul, and attacking a consul elect; and those are
not the words of an enemy, nor is that warlike language, which Pansa read just
now out of his colleague's letters: “I drove out the
garrison.” “I got possession of Claterna.” “The
cavalry were routed.” “A battle was fought.”
“A good many men were slain.” What peace can be greater that
this? Levies of troops are ordered throughout all Italy; all exemptions from service are suspended; the robe of
war is to be assumed tomorrow; the consul has said that he shall come down to
the senate-house with an armed guard.
Is not this war? Yes, it is such a war as has never been. For in all other wars, and most especially in civil wars,
it was a difference as to the political state of the republic which gave rise to
the contest. Sulla contended against Sulpicius about the force of laws which
Sulla said had been passed by violence. Cinna warred against Octavius because of
the votes of the new citizens. Again, Sulla was at variance with Cinna and
Marius, in order to prevent unworthy men from attaining power, and to avenge the
cruel death of most illustrious men. The causes of all these wars arose from the
zeal of different parties, for what they considered the interest of the
republic. Of the last civil war I can not bear to speak: I do not understand the
cause of it; I detest the result.
This is the fifth civil war (and all of them have fallen upon our times); the
first which has not only not brought dissensions and discord among the citizens,
but which has been signalized by extraordinary unanimity and incredible concord.
All of them have the same wish, all defend the same objects, all are inspired
with the same sentiments. When I say all, I except those whom no one thinks
worthy of being citizens at all. What, then, is the cause of war, and what is
the object aimed at? We are defending the temples of the immortal gods, we are
defending the walls of the city, we are defending the homes and habitations of
the Roman people, the household gods, the altars, the hearths and the sepulchers
of our forefathers; we are defending our laws, our courts of justice, our
freedom, our wives, our children, and our country. On the other hand, Marcus
Antonius labors and fights in order to throw into confusion and overturn all
these things; and hopes to have reason to think the plunder of the republic
sufficient cause for the war, while he squanders part of our fortunes, and
distributes the rest among his parricidal followers.
While, then, the motives for war are so different, a most miserable circumstance
is what that fellow promises to his band of robbers. In the first place our
houses; for he declares that he will divide the city among them; and after that
he will lead them out at whatever gate and settle them on whatever lands they
please. All the Caphons,These were the names of officers
devoted to Antonius. all the Saxas, and the other plagues which
attend Antonius, are marking out for themselves in their own minds most
beautiful houses, and gardens, and villas, at Tusculum and Alba; and those clownish men—if indeed
they are men, and not rather brute beasts—are borne on in their empty
hopes as far as the waters and Puteoli. So Antonius has something to promise to his followers.
What can we do? Have we any thing of the sort? May the gods grant us a better
fate! for our express object is to prevent any one at all from hereafter making
similar promises. I say this against my will, still I must say it;—the
auction sanctioned by Caesar, O conscript fathers, gives many wicked men both
hope and audacity. For they saw some men become suddenly rich from having been
beggars. Therefore, those men who are hanging over our property, and to whom
Antonius promises everything, are always longing to see an auction. What can we do? What do we promise our soldiers?
Things much better and more honorable. For promises to be earned by wicked
actions are pernicious both to those who expect them, and to those who promise
them. We promise to our soldiers freedom, rights, laws, justice, the empire of
the world, dignity, peace, tranquillity. The promises then of Antonius are
bloody, polluted, wicked, odious for gods and men, neither lasting nor salutary;
ours, on the other hand, are honorable, upright, glorious, full of happiness,
and full of piety.
Here also Quintus Fufius, a brave and energetic man, and a friend of mine,
reminds me of the advantages of peace. As if, if it were necessary to praise
peace, I could not do it myself quite as well as he. For is it once only that I
have defended peace? Have I not at all times labored for tranquillity? which is
desirable for all good men, but especially for me. For what course could my
industry pursue without forensic causes, without laws, without courts of
justice? and these things can have no existence when civil peace is taken away.
But I want to know what you mean, O
Calenus? Do you call slavery peace? Our ancestors used to take up arms not
merely to secure their freedom, but also to acquire empire; you think that we
ought to throw away our arms, in order to become slaves. What juster cause is
there for waging war than the wish to repel slavery? in which, even if one's
master be not tyrannical, yet it is a most miserable thing that he should be
able to be so if he chooses. In truth, other causes are just, this is a
necessary one. Unless, perhaps, you think that this does not apply to you,
because you expect that you will be a partner in the dominion of Antonius. And
there you make a twofold mistake: first of all, in preferring your own to the
general interest; and in the next place, in thinking that there is any thing
either stable or pleasant in kingly power. Even if it has before now been
advantageous to you, it will not always be so. Moreover, you used to complain of that former master, who was a man; what do
you think you will do when your master is a beast? And you say that you are a
man who have always been desirous of peace, and have always wished for the
preservation of all the citizens. Very honest language; that is, if you mean all
citizens who are virtuous, and useful, and serviceable to the republic; but if
you wish those who are by nature citizens, but by inclination enemies, to be
saved, what difference is there between you and them? Your father, indeed, with
whom I as a youth was acquainted, when he was an old man,—a man of
rigid virtue and wisdom,—used to give the greatest praise of all
citizens who had ever lived to Publius Nasica, who slew Tiberius Gracchus. By
his valor, and wisdom, and magnanimity he thought that the republic had been
saved. What am I to say? Have we received any
other doctrine from our fathers? Therefore, that citizen—if you had
lived in those times—would not have been approved of by you, because
he did not wish all the citizens to be safe. “Because Lucius Opimius
the consul has made a speech concerning the republic, the senators have thus
decided on that matter, that Opimius the consul shall defend the
republic.” The senate adopted these measures in words, Opimius
followed them up by his arms Should you then if you had lived in those times
have thought him a hasty or a cruel citizen? or should you have thought Quintus
Metellus one whose four sons were all men of consular rank? or Publius Lentulus
the chief of the senate and many other admirable men who with Lucius Opimius the
consul, took arms, and pursued Gracchus to the Aventine? and in the battle which ensued, Lentulus received a
severe wound, Gracchus was slain, and so was Marcus Fulvius, a man of consular
rank, and his two youthful sons. Those men, therefore, are to be blamed; for
they did not wish all the citizens to be safe.
Let us come to instances nearer our own time. The senate entrusted the defense of
the republic to Caius Marius and Lucius Valerius the consuls. Lucius Saturninus,
a tribune of the people, and Caius Glaucia the praetor, were slain. On that day,
all the Scauri, and Metelli, and
Claudii, and Catuli, and Scaevolae, and Crassi took arms. Do you think either
those consuls or those other most illustrious men deserving of blame? I myself
wished Catiline to perish. Did you who wish every one to be safe, wish Catiline
to be safe? There is this difference, O Calenus, between my opinion and yours. I
wish no citizen to commit such crimes as deserve to be punished with death. You
think that, even if he has committed them, still he ought to be saved. If there
is any thing in our own body which is injurious to the rest of the body, we
allow that to be burned and cut out, in order that a limb may be lost in
preference to the whole body. And so in the body of the republic, whatever is
rotten must be cut off in order that the whole may be saved. Harsh language! This is much more harsh, “Let the
worthless, and wicked, and impious be saved; let the innocent, the honorable,
the virtuous, the whole republic be destroyed.” In the case of one
individual, O Quintus Fufius, I confess that you saw more than I did. I thought
Publius Clodius a mischievous, wicked, lustful, impious, audacious, criminal
citizen. You, on the other hand, called him religious, temperate, innocent,
modest; a citizen to be preserved and desired. In this one particular I admit
that you had great discernment, and that I made a great mistake. For as for your
saying that I am in the habit of arguing against you with ill temper, that is
not the case. I confess that I argue with vehemence, but not with ill temper. I
am not in the habit of getting angry with my friends every now and then, not
even if they deserve it. Therefore, I can
differ from you without using any insulting language, though not without feeling
the greatest grief of mind. For is the dissension between you and me a trifling
one, or on a trifling subject? Is it merely a case of my favoring this man, and
you that man? Yes; I indeed favor Decimus Brutus, you favor Marcus Antonius; I
wish a colony of the Roman people to be preserved, you are anxious that it
should be stormed and destroyed.
Can you deny this, when you interpose every sort of delay calculated to weaken
Brutus, and to improve the position of Antonius? For how long will you keep on
saying that you are desirous of peace? Matters are progressing rapidly; the
works have been carried on; severe battles are taking place. We sent three chief
men of the city to interpose. Antonius has despised, rejected, and repudiated
them. And still you continue a persevering defender of Antonius. And Calenus, indeed, in order that he may appear a
more conscientious senator, says that he ought not to be a friend to him; since,
though Antonius was under great obligations to him, he still had acted against
him. See how great is his affection for his country.
When you are so bitter, O Quintus Fufius, against the people of Marseilles, I can not listen to you with
calmness. For how long are you going to attack Marseilles? Does not even a triumph put an end to the war? in
which was carried an image of that city, without whose assistance our
forefathers never triumphed over the Transalpine nations. Then, indeed, did the
Roman people groan. Although they had their own private griefs because of their
own affairs, still there was no citizen who thought the miseries of this most
loyal city unconnected with himself. Caesar
himself, who had been the most angry of all men with them, still, on account of
the unusually high character and loyalty of that city, was every day relaxing
something of his displeasure And is there no extent of calamity by which so
faithful a city can satiate you? Again, perhaps, you will say that I am losing
my temper. But I am speaking without passion, as I always do, though not without
great indignation. I think that no man can be an enemy to that city, who is a
friend to this one. What your object is, O Calenus, I can not imagine. Formerly
we were unable to deter you from devoting yourself to the gratification of the
people; now we are unable to prevail on you to show any regard for their
interests. I have argued long enough with Fufius, saying everything without
hatred, but nothing without indignation. I suppose that a man who can bear the
complaint of his son-in-law with indifference, will bear that of his friend with
great equanimity.
I come now to the rest of the men of consular rank, of whom there is no one (I
say this on my own responsibility), who is not connected with me in some way or
other by kindnesses conferred or received; some in a great, some in a moderate
degree, but every one to some extent or other. What a disgraceful day was
yesterday to us! to us consulars, I mean. Are we to send ambassadors again?
What? would he make a truce? Before the very face and eyes of the ambassadors he
battered Mutina with his engines. He
displayed his works and his defenses to the ambassadors. The siege was not
allowed one moment's breathing time, not even while the ambassadors should be
present. Send ambassadors to this man! What for? in order to have great fears
for their return? In truth, though on the
previous occasion I had voted against the ambassadors being decreed, still I
consoled myself with this reflection, that, when they had returned from Antonius
despised and rejected, and had reported to the senate, not merely that he had
not withdrawn from Gaul, as we had
voted that he should, but that he had not even retired from before Mutina, and that they had not been allowed
to proceed on to Decimus Brutus, all men would be inflamed with hatred and
stimulated by indignation, so that we should reinforce Decimus Brutus with arms,
and horses, and men. But we have become even more languid since we have become
acquainted with, not only the audacity and wickedness of Antonius, but also with
his insolence and pride. Would that Lucius
Caesar were in health; that Servius. Sulpicius were alive. This cause would be
pleaded much better by three men, than it is now by me single-handed. What I am
going to say I say with grief, rather than by way of insult. We have been
deserted—we have, I say, been deserted, O conscript fathers, by our
chiefs. But, as I have often said before, all those who in a time of such danger
have proper and courageous sentiments shall be men of consular rank. The
ambassadors ought to have brought us back courage, they have brought us back
fear. Not, indeed, that they have caused me any fear: let them have as high an
opinion as they please of the man to whom they were sent; from whom they have
even brought back commands to us.
O ye immortal gods! where are the habits and virtues of our forefathers? Caius
Popillius, in the time of our ancestors, when he had been sent as ambassador to
Antiochus the king, and had given him notice, in the words of the senate, to
depart from Alexandria, which he
was besieging, on the king's seeking to delay giving his answer, drew a line
round him where he was standing with his rod, and stated that he should report
him to the senate if he did not answer him as to what he intended to do before
he moved out of that line which surrounded him. He did well. For he had brought
with him the countenance of the senate, and the authority of the Roman people;
and if a man does not obey that, we are not to receive commands from him in
return, but he is to be utterly rejected. Am
I to receive commands from a man who despises the commands of the senate? Or am
I to think that he has any thing in common with the senate, who besieges a
general of the Roman people in spite of the prohibition of the senate? But what
commands they are! With what arrogance, with what stupidity, with what insolence
are they conceived! But what made him charge our ambassadors with them when he
was sending Cotyla to us, the ornament and bulwark of his friends, a man of
aedilitian rank? if, indeed, he really was an aedile at the time when the public
slaves flogged him with thongs at a banquet by command of Antonius.
But what modest commands they are! We must be iron-hearted men, O conscript
fathers, to deny any thing to this man! “I give up both
provinces,” says he; “I disband my army; I am willing to
become a private individual.” For these are his very words. He seems
to be coming to himself. “I am willing to forget everything; to be
reconciled to every body.” But what does he add? “If you
give booty and land to my six legions, to my cavalry, and to my praetorian
cohort.” He even demands rewards for those men for whom, if he were to
demand pardon, he would be thought the most impudent of men. He adds farther,
“Those men to whom the lands have been given which he himself and
Dolabella distributed, are to retain them.” This is the Campanian and Leontine district, both which our
ancestors considered a certain resource in times of scarcity.
He is protecting the interests of his buffoons and gamesters and pimps. He is
protecting Capho's and Saxa's interests too, pugnacious and muscular centurions,
whom he placed among his troops of male and female buffoons. Besides all this,
he demands “that the decrees of himself and his colleague concerning
Caesar's writings and memoranda are to stand.” Why is he so anxious
that every one should have what he has bought, if he who sold it all has the
price which he received for it? “And that his accounts of the money in
the temple of Ops are not to be meddled with.” That is to say, that
those seven hundred millions of sesterces are not to be recovered from him.
“That the septemviri are to be exempt from blame or from prosecution
for what they have done.” It was Nucula, I imagine, who put him in
mind of that; he was afraid, perhaps, of losing so many clients. He also wishes
to make stipulations in favor of “those men who are with him who may
have done any thing against the laws.
“He is here taking care of Mustela and Tiro; he is not anxious about
himself. For what has he done? has he ever touched the public money, or murdered
a man, or had armed men about him? But what reason has he for taking so much
trouble about them? For he demands, “that his own judiciary law be not
abrogated.” And if he obtains that, what is there that he can fear?
can he be afraid that any one of his friends may be convicted by Cydas, or
Lysiades, or Curius? However, he does not press us with many more demands.
“I give up,” says he, “Gallia
Togata; I demand Gallia
Comata.”The province between the
Alps and the Rubicon was called
Gallia Citerior, or Cisalpina, from its situation; also Togata, from the inhabitants wearing the Roman toga. The
other was called Ulterior, and by Cicero often
Ultima, or Transalpina; and also Comata
from the fashion of the inhabitants wearing long hair.—he
evidently wishes to be quite at his ease,—“with six legions,
and those made up to their full complement out of the army of Decimus
Brutus;”—not only out of the troops whom he has enlisted
himself; “and he is to keep possession of it as long as Marcus Brutus
and Caius Cassius, as consuls, or as proconsuls, keep possession of their
provinces.” In the comitia held by him, his brother Caius (for it is
his year) has already been repulsed.
“And I myself,” says he, “am to retain possession
of my province five years.” But that is expressly forbidden by the law
of Caesar, and you defend the acts of Caesar.
Were you, O Lucius Piso, and you, O Lucius Philippus, you chiefs of the city,
able, I will not say to endure in your minds, but even to listen with your ears
to these commands of his? But, I suspect there was some alarm at work; nor,
while in his power, could you feel as ambassadors, or as men of consular rank,
nor could you maintain your own dignity, or that of the republic. And
nevertheless somehow or other owing to some philosophy, I suppose, you did what
I could not have done,—you returned without any very angry feelings,
Marcus Antonius paid you no respect, though you were most illustrious men,
ambassadors of the Roman people. As for us, what concessions did not we make to
Cotyla the ambassador of Marcus Antonius? though it was against the law for even
the gates of the city to be opened to him, yet even this temple was opened to
him. He was allowed to enter the senate; here yesterday he was taking down our
opinions and every word we said in his note-books; and men who had been
preferred to the highest honors sold themselves to him in utter disregard of
their own dignity.
O ye immortal gods! how great an enterprise is it to uphold the character of a
leader in the republic; for it requires one to be influenced not merely by the
thoughts but also by the eyes of the citizens. To take to one's house the
ambassador of an enemy, to admit him to one's chamber, even to confer apart with
him, is the act of a man who thinks nothing of his dignity, and too much of his
danger. But what is danger? For if one is engaged in a contest where every thing
is at stake, either liberty is assured to one if victorious, or death if
defeated; the former of which alternatives is desirable, and the latter some
time or other inevitable. But a base flight from death is worse than any
imaginable death. For I will never be induced
to believe that there are men who envy the consistency or diligence of others,
and who are indignant at the unceasing desire to assist the republic being
approved by the senate and people of Rome. That is what we were all bound to do; and that was not
only in the time of our ancestors, but even lately, the highest praise of men of
consular rank, to be vigilant, to be anxious, to be always either thinking, or
doing, or saying something to promote the interests of the republic. I, O conscript fathers, recollect that Quintus
Scaevola the augur, in the Marsic war, when he was a man of extreme old age, and
quite broken down in constitution, every day, as soon as it was daylight, used
to give every one an opportunity of consulting him; nor, throughout all that
war, did any one ever see him in bed; and, though old and weak, he was the first
man to come into the senate-house. I wish, above all things, that those who
ought to do so would imitate his industry; and, next to that, I wish that they
would not envy the exertions of another.
In truth, O conscript fathers, now we have begun to entertain hopes of liberty
again, after a period of six years, during which we have been deprived of it,
having endured slavery longer than prudent and industrious prisoners usually do,
what watchfulness, what anxiety, what exertions ought we to shrink from, for the
sake of delivering the Roman people? In truth, O conscript fathers, though men
who have had the honors conferred on them that we have, usually wear their
gowns, while the rest of the city is in the robe of war, still I decided that at
such a momentous crisis, and when the whole republic was in so disturbed a
state, we would not differ in our dress from you and the rest of the citizens.
For we men of consular rank are not in this war conducting ourselves in such a
manner that the Roman people will be likely to look with equanimity on the
ensigns of our honor, when some of us are so cowardly as to have cast away all
recollection of the kindnesses which they have received from the Roman people;
some are so disaffected to the republic that they openly allege that they favor
this enemy, and easily bear having our ambassadors despised and insulted by
Antonius, while they wish to support the ambassador sent by Antonius. For they
said that he ought not to be prevented from returning to Antonius, and they
proposed an amendment to my proposition of not receiving him. Well, I will
submit to them. Let Varius return to his general, but on condition that he never
returns to Rome. And as to the others,
if they abandon their errors, and return to their duty to the republic, I think
they may he pardoned and left unpunished.
Therefore, I give my vote, “That of those men who are with Marcus
Antonius, those who abandon his army, and come over either to Caius Pansa or
Aulus. Hirtius the consuls; or to Decimus Brutus, imperator and consul elect; or to Caius Caesar, propraetor,
before the first of March next, shall not be liable to prosecution for having
been with Antonius. That, if any one of those men who are now with Antonius
shall do any thing which appears entitled to honor or to reward, Caius Pansa and
Aulus Hirtius the consuls, one or both of them, shall, if they think fit make a
motion to the senate respecting that man's honor or reward, at the earliest
opportunity. That, if, after this resolution of the senate, any one shall go to
Antonius except Lucius Varius, the senate will consider that that man has acted
as an enemy to the republic.”
THE NINTH ORATION OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. CALLED ALSO THE NINTH PHILIPPIC.
THE ARGUMENT.
Servius Sulpicius, as has been already said, had died on his embassy to
Marcus Antonius, before Mutina; and
the day after the delivery of the preceding speech, Pansa again called the
senate together to deliberate on the honors to be paid to his memory. He
himself proposed a public funeral, a sepulcher, and a statue. Servilius
opposed the statue, as due only to those who had been slain by violence
while in discharge of their duties as ambassadors. Cicero delivered the
following oration in support of Pansa's proposition, which was carried.Sulpicius was of about the same age as Cicero, and an
early friend of his, and he enjoyed the reputation of being the first
lawyer of his time, or of all who ever had studied law as a profession
in Rome.
I wish, O conscript fathers, that the immortal gods had granted to us to return
thanks to Servius Sulpicius while alive, rather than thus to devise honors for
him now that he is dead. Nor have I any doubt, but that if that man had been
able himself to give us his report of the proceedings of his embassy, his return
would have been acceptable to you and salutary to the republic. Not that either
Lucius. Piso or Lucius Philippus have been deficient
in either zeal or care in the performance of so important a duty and so grave a
commission; but, as Servius Sulpicius was superior in age to them, and in wisdom
to every one, he, being suddenly taken from the business, left the whole embassy
crippled and enfeebled.
But if deserved honors have been paid to any
ambassador after death, there is no one by whom they can be found to have been
ever more fully deserved than by Servius Sulpicius. The rest of those men who
have died while engaged on an embassy, have gone forth, subject indeed to the
usual uncertainties of life, but without any especial danger or fear of death.
Servius Sulpicius set out with some hope indeed of reaching Antonius, but with
none of returning. But though he was so very ill that if any exertion were added
to his bad state of health, he would have no hope of himself, still he did not
refuse to try, even while at his last gasp, to be of some service to the
republic. Therefore neither the severity of the winter, nor the snow, nor the
length of the journey, nor the badness of the roads, nor his daily increasing
illness, delayed him. And when he had arrived where he might meet and confer
with the man to whom he had been sent, he departed this life in the midst of his
care and consideration as to how he might best discharge the duty which he had
undertaken.
As therefore, O Caius Pansa, you have done well in other respects, so you have
acted admirably in exhorting us this day to pay honor to Servius Sulpicius, and
in yourself making an eloquent oration in his praise. And after the speech which
we have heard from you, I should have been content to say nothing beyond barely
giving my vote, if I did not think it necessary to reply to Publius Servilius,
who has declared his opinion that this honor of a statue ought to be granted to
no one who has not been actually slain with a sword while performing the duties
of his embassy. But I, O conscript fathers, consider that this was the feeling
of our ancestors, that they considered that it was the cause of death, and not
the manner of it, which was a proper subject for inquiry. In fact, they thought
fit that a monument should be erected to any man whose death was caused by an
embassy, in order to tempt men in perilous wars to be the more bold in
undertaking the office of an ambassador. What we ought to do, therefore, is, not
to scrutinize the precedents afforded by our ancestors, but to explain their
intentions from which the precedents themselves arose.
Lar Tolumnius, the king of Veii, slew
four ambassadors of the Roman people, at Fidenae, whose statues were standing in
the rostra till within my recollection. The honor was well deserved. For our
ancestors gave those men who had encountered death in the cause of the republic
an imperishable memory in exchange for this transitory life. We see in the
rostra the statue of Cnaeus Octavius, an illustrious and great man, the first
man who brought the consulship into that family, which afterward abounded in
illustrious men. There was no one then who envied him, because he was a new man;
there was no one who did not honor his virtue. But yet the embassy of Octavius
was one in which there was no suspicion of danger. For having been sent by the
senate to investigate the dispositions of kings and of free nations, and
especially to forbid the grandson of king Antiochus, the one who had carried on
war against our forefathers, to maintain fleets and to keep elephants, he was
slain at Laodicea, in the gymnasium, by
a man of the name of Leptines. On this a
statue was given to him by our ancestors as a recompense for his life, which
might ennoble his progeny for many years, and which is now the only memorial
left of so illustrious a family. But in his case, and in that of Tullus
Cluvius,There is some corruption of the text
here. and Lucius Roscius, and Spurius Antius, and Caius Fulcinius,
who were slain by the king of Veii, it
was not the blood that was shed at their death, but the death itself which was
encountered in the service of the republic, which was the cause of their being
thus honored.
Therefore, O conscript fathers, if it had been chance which had caused the death
of Servius. Sulpicius, I should sorrow indeed over such a loss to the republic,
but I should consider him deserving of the honor, not of a monument, but of a
public mourning. But, as it is, who is there who doubts that it was the embassy
itself which caused his death? For he took death away with him; though, if he
had remained among us, his own care, and the attention of his most excellent son
and his most faithful wife, might have warded it off. But he, as he saw that, if he did not obey your authority,
he should not be acting like himself; but that if he did obey, then that duty,
undertaken for the welfare of the republic, would be the end of his life;
preferred dying at a most critical period of the republic, to appearing to have
done less service to the republic than he might have done.
He had an opportunity of recruiting his strength and taking care of himself in
many cities through which his journey lay. He was met by the liberal invitation
of many entertainers, as his dignity deserved, and the men too who were sent
with him exhorted him to take rest, and to think of his own health. But he,
refusing all delay, hastening on, eager to perform your commands, persevered in
this his constant purpose, in spite of the hindrances of his illness. And as Antonius was above all things disturbed by his
arrival, because the commands which were laid upon him by your orders had been
drawn up by the authority and wisdom of Servius Sulpicius, he showed plainly how
he hated the senate by the evident joy which he displayed at the death of the
adviser of the senate.
Leptines then did not kill Octavius, nor did the king of Veii slay those whom I have just named, more
clearly than Antonius killed Servius Sulpicius. Surely he brought the man death,
who was the cause of his death. Wherefore, I think it of consequence, in order
that posterity may recollect it, that there should be a record of what the
judgment of the senate was concerning this war. For the statue itself will be a
witness that the war was so serious a one, that the death of an ambassador in it
gained the honor of an imperishable memorial.
But if, O conscript fathers, you would only recollect the excuses alleged by
Servius Sulpicius why he should not be appointed to this embassy, then no doubt
will be left on your minds that we ought to repair by the honor paid to the dead
the injury which we did to him while living. For it is you, O conscript fathers
(it is a grave charge to make, but it must be uttered), it is you, I say, who
have deprived Servius Sulpicius of life. For when you saw him pleading his
illness as an excuse more by the truth of the fact than by any labored plea of
words, you were not indeed cruel (for what can be more impossible for this order
to be guilty of than that), but as you hoped that there was nothing that could
not be accomplished by his authority and wisdom, you opposed his excuse with
great earnestness, and compelled the man, who had always thought your decisions
of the greatest weight, to abandon his own opinion. But when there was added the exhortation of Pansa, the
consul, delivered with more weight than the ears of Servius Sulpicius had
learned to resist, then at last he led me and his own son aside, and said that
he was hound to prefer your authority to his own life. And we, admiring his
virtue, did not dare to oppose his determination. His son was moved with
extraordinary piety and affection, and my own grief did not fall far short of
his agitation; but each of us was compelled to yield to his greatness of mind,
and to the dignity of his language, when he, indeed, amid the loud praises and
congratulations of you all, promised to do whatever you wished, and not to avoid
the danger which might be incurred by the adoption of the opinion of which he
himself had been the author. And we the next day escorted him early in the
morning as he hastened forth to execute your commands. And he, in truth, when
departing, spoke with me in such a manner that his language seemed like an omen
of his fate.
Restore then, O conscript fathers, life to him from whom you have taken it. For
the life of the dead consists in the recollection cherished of them by the
living. Take care that he, whom you without, intending it sent to his death,
shall from you receive immortality. And if you by your decree erect a statue to
him in the rostra, no forgetfulness of posterity will ever obscure the memory of
his embassy. For the remainder of the life of Servius Sulpicius will be
recommended to the eternal recollection of all men by many and splendid
memorials. The praise of all mortals will forever celebrate his wisdom, his
firmness, his loyalty, his admirable vigilance and prudence in upholding the
interests of the public. Nor will that admirable, and incredible, and almost
godlike skill of his in interpreting the laws and explaining the principles of
equity be buried in silence. If all the men of all ages, who have ever had any
acquaintance with the law in this city, were got together into one place, they
would not deserve to be compared to Servius Sulpicius. Nor was he more skillful in explaining the law than in
laying down the principles of justice. Those maxims which were derived from
laws, and from the common law, he constantly referred to the original principles
of kindness and equity. Nor was he more fond of arranging the conduct of
lawsuits than of preventing disputes altogether. Therefore he is not in want of
this memorial which a statue will provide; he has other and better ones. For
this statue will be only a witness of his honorable death; those actions will be
the memorial of his glorious life. So that this will be rather a monument of the
gratitude of the senate, than of the glory of the man.
The affection of the son, too, will appear to have great influence in moving us
to honor the father; for although, being overwhelmed with grief, he is not
present, still you ought to be animated with the same feelings as if he were
present. But he is in such distress, that no father ever sorrowed more over the
loss of an only son than he grieves for the death of his father. Indeed, I think
that it concerns also the fame of Servius Sulpicius the son, that he should
appear to have paid all due respect to his father. Although Servius Sulpicius
could leave no nobler monument behind him than his son, the image of his own
manners, and virtues, and wisdom, and piety, and genius; whose grief can either
be alleviated by this honor paid to his father by you, or by no consolation at
all.
But when I recollect the many conversations which in the days of our intimacy on
earth I have had with Servius Sulpicius, it appears to me, that if there be any
feeling in the dead, a brazen statue, and that too a pedestrian one, will be
more acceptable to him than a gilt equestrian one, such as was first erected to
Lucius Sulla. For Servius was wonderfully attached to the moderation of our
forefathers, and was accustomed to reprove the insolence of this age. As if,
therefore, I were able to consult himself as to what he would wish, so I give my
vote for a pedestrian statue of brass, as if I were speaking by his authority
and inclination; which by the honor of the memorial will diminish and mitigate
the great grief and regret of his fellow-citizens. And it is certain that this my opinion, O conscript
fathers, will be approved of by the opinion of Publius Servilius, who has given
his vote that a sepulcher be publicly decreed to Servius Sulpicius, but has
voted against the statue. For if the death of an ambassador happening without
bloodshed and violence requires no honor, why does he vote for the honor of a
public funeral, which is the greatest honor that can be paid to a dead man? If
he grants that to Servius Sulpicius which was not given to Gnaeus. Octavius, why
does he think that we ought not to give to the former what was given to the
latter? Our ancestors, indeed, decreed statues to many men; public sepulchers to
few. But statues perish by weather, by violence, by lapse of time; but the
sanctity of the sepulchers is in the soil itself, which can neither be moved nor
destroyed by any violence; and while other things are extinguished, so
sepulchers become holier by age.
Let, then, that man be distinguished by that honor also, a man to whom no honor
can be given which is not deserved. Let us be grateful in paying respect in
death to him to whom we can now show no other gratitude. And by that same step
let the audacity of Marcus Antonius, waging a nefarious war, be branded with
infamy. For when these honors have been paid to Servius Sulpicius, the evidence
of his embassy having been insulted and rejected by Antonius, will remain for
everlasting.
On which account I give my vote for a decree in this form: “As Servius
Sulpicius Rufus, the son of Quintus, of the Lemonian tribe, at a most critical
period of the republic, and being ill with a very serious and dangerous disease,
preferred the authority of the senate and the safety of the republic to his own
life, and struggled against the violence and severity of his illness, in order
to arrive at the camp of Antonius, to which the senate had sent him; and as he,
when he had almost arrived at the camp, being overwhelmed by the violence of the
disease, has lost his life in discharging a most important office of the
republic; and as his death has been in strict correspondence to a life passed
with the greatest integrity and honor, during which he, Servius Sulpicius, has
often been of great service to the republic, both as a private individual and in
the discharge of various magistracies; and as
he, being such a man, has encountered death on behalf of the republic while
employed on an embassy;—the senate decrees that a brazen pedestrian
statue of Servius Sulpicius be erected in the rostra in compliance with the
resolution of this order, and that his children and posterity shall have a place
round this statue of five feet in every direction, from which to behold the
games and gladiatorial combats, because he died in the cause of the republic;
and that this reason be inscribed on the pedestal of the statue; and that Caius
Pansa and Aulus Hirtius the consuls, one or both of them, if it seem good to
them, shall command the quaestors of the city to let out a contract for making
that pedestal and that statue, and erecting them in the rostra; and that
whatever price they contract for, they shall take care the amount is given and
paid to the contractor; and as in old times the senate has exerted its authority
with respect to the obsequies of, and honors paid to brave men, it now decrees
that he shall be carried to the tomb on the day of his funeral with the greatest
possible solemnity. And as Servius Sulpicius
Rufus, the son of Quintus of the Lemonian tribe, has deserved so well of the
republic as to be entitled to be complimented with all those distinctions; the
senate is of opinion, and thinks it for the advantage of the republic, that the
consule aedile should suspend the edict which usually prevails with respect to
funerals in the case of the funeral of Servius Sulpicius Rufus, the son of
Quintus of the Lemonian tribe; and that Caius Pansa, the consul, shall assign
him a place for a tomb in the Esquiline
plain, or in whatever place shall seem good to him, extending thirty feet in
every direction, where Servius Sulpicius may be buried; and that that shall be
his tomb, and that of his children and posterity, as having been a tomb most
deservedly given to them by the public authority.”
THE TENTH ORATION OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. CALLED ALSO THE TENTH PHILIPPIC.
THE ARGUMENT.
Soon after the delivery of the last speech, dispatches were received from
Brutus by the consuls, giving an account of his success against Caius
Antonius in Macedonia; stating that
he had secured Macedonia,
Illyricum, and Greece, with the armies in those
countries; that Caius Antonius had retired to Apollonia with seven cohorts; that a
legion under Lucius Piso had surrendered to young Cicero, who was commanding
his cavalry; that Dolabella's cavalry had deserted to him; and that Vatinius
had surrendered Dyrrachium and its
garrison to him: He likewise praised Quintus Hortensius, the proconsul of
Macedonia, as having assisted
him in gaining over the Grecian provinces and the armies in those districts.
As soon as Pansa received the dispatches, he summoned the senate to have them
read; and in a set speech greatly extolled Brutus, and moved a vote of thanks to him; but Calenus, who
followed him, declared his opinion that as Brutus had acted without any public commission or
authority, he should be required to give up his army to the proper governors
of the provinces, or to whoever the senate should appoint to receive it.
After he had sat down, Cicero rose, and delivered the following speech.
We all, O Pansa, ought both to feel and to show the greatest gratitude to you,
who,—though we did not expect that you would hold any senate
today,—the moment that you received the letters of Marcus Brutus, that most excellent citizen, did not
interpose even the slightest delay to our enjoying the most excessive delight
and mutual congratulation at the earliest opportunity. And not only ought this
action of yours to be grateful to us all, but also the speech which you
addressed to us after the letters had been read. For you showed plainly, that
that was true which I have always felt to be so, that no one envied the virtue
of another who was confident of his own.
Therefore I, who have been connected with Brutus by many mutual good offices and by the greatest
intimacy, need not say so much concerning him; for the part that I had marked
out for myself your speech has anticipated me in. But, O conscript fathers, the
opinion delivered by the man who was asked for his vote before me, has imposed
upon me the necessity of saying rather more than I otherwise should have said;
and I differ from him so repeatedly at present, that I am afraid (what certainly
ought not to be the case) that our continual disagreement may appear to diminish
our friendship.
What can be the meaning of this argument of
yours, O Calenus? what can be your intention? How is it that you have never once
since the first of January been of the same opinion with him who asks you your
opinion first? How is it that the senate has never yet been so full as to enable
you to find one single person to agree with your sentiments? Why are you always
defending men who in no point resemble you? why, when both your life and your
fortune invite you to tranquillity and dignity, do you approve of those
measures, and defend those measures, and declare those sentiments, which are
adverse both to the general tranquillity and to your own individual dignity?
For to say nothing of former speeches of yours, at all events. I can not pass
over in silence this which excites my most especial wonder. What war is there
between you and the Bruti? Why do you alone attack those men whom we are all
bound almost to worship? Why are you not indignant at one of them being
besieged, and why do you—as far as your vote goes—strip the
other of those troops which by his own exertions and by his own danger he has
got together by himself, without any one to assist him, for the protection of
the republic, not for himself? What is your meaning in this? What are your
intentions? Is it possible that you should not approve of the Bruti, and should
approve of Antonius? that you should hate those men whom every one else
considers most dear? and that you should love with the greatest constancy those
whom every one else hates most bitterly? You have a most ample fortune; you are
in the highest rank of honor; your son, as I both hear and hope, is born to
glory,—a youth whom I favor not only for the sake of the republic, but
for your sake also. I ask, therefore, would
you rather have him like Brutus or like Antonius? and I will let you choose
whichever of the three Antonii you please. God forbid! you will say. Why, then,
do you not favor those men and praise those men whom you wish your own son to
resemble? For by so doing you will be both consulting the interests of the
republic, and proposing him an example for his imitation.
But in this instance, I hope, O Quintus Fufius, to be allowed to expostulate with
you, as a senator who greatly differs from you, without any prejudice to our
friendship. For you spoke in this matter, and that too from a written paper; for
I should think you had made a slip from want of some appropriate expression, if
I were not acquainted with your ability in speaking. You said “that
the letters of Brutus appeared properly and regularly expressed.” What
else is this than praising Brutus's secretary, not Brutus? You both ought to have great experience in the affairs of
the republic, and you have. When did you ever see a decree framed in this
manner? or in what resolution of the senate passed on such occasions. (and they
are innumerable), did you ever hear of its being decreed that the letters had
been well drawn up? And that expression did not—as is often the case
with other men—fall from you by chance, but you brought it with you
written down, deliberated on, and carefully meditated on.
If any one could take from you this habit of disparaging good men on almost every
occasion, then what qualities would not be left to you which every one would
desire for himself? Do, then, recollect yourself; do at last soften and quiet
that disposition of yours; do take the advice of good men, with many of whom you
are intimate; do converse with that wisest of men, your own son-in-law, oftener
than with yourself; and then you will obtain the name of a man of the very
highest character. Do you think it a matter of no consequence (it is a matter in
which I, out of the friendship which I feel for you, constantly grieve in your
stead), that this should be commonly said out of doors, and should be a common
topic of conversation among the Roman people, that the man who delivered his
opinion first did not find a single person to agree with him? And that I think
will be the case today.
You propose to take the legions away from Brutus:—which legions? Why,
those which he has gained over from the wickedness of Caius Antonius, and has by
his own authority gained over to the republic. Do you wish then that he should
again appear to be the only person stripped of his authority, and as it were
banished by the senate? And you, O conscript
fathers, if you abandon and betray Marcus Brutus, what citizen in the world will
you ever distinguish? Whom will you ever favor? Unless, indeed, you think that
those men who put a diadem on a man's head deserve to be preserved, and those
who have abolished the very name of kingly power deserve to be abandoned. And of
this divine and immortal glory of Marcus Brutus I will say no more; it is
already embalmed in the grateful recollection of all the citizens, but it has
not yet been sanctioned by any formal act of public authority. Such patience! O
ye good gods! such moderation! such tranquillity and submission under injury! A
man who, while he was praetor of the city, was driven from the city, was
prevented from sitting as judge in legal proceedings, when it was he who had
restored all law to the republic; and, though he might have been hedged round by
the daily concourse of all virtuous men, who were constantly flocking round him
in marvelous numbers, he preferred to be defended in his absence by the judgment
of the good, to being present and protected by their force;—who was
not even present to celebrate the games to Apollo, which had been prepared in a
manner suitable to his own dignity and to that of the Roman people, lest he
should open any road to the audacity of most wicked men.
Although, what games or what days were ever more joyful than those on which at
every verse that the actor uttered, the Roman people did honor to the memory of
Brutus, with loud shouts of applause? The person of their liberator was absent,
the recollection of their liberty was present, in which the appearance of Brutus
himself seemed to be visible. But the man himself I beheld on those very days of
the games, in the country-house of a most illustrious young man, Lucullus, his relation, thinking of nothing
but the peace and concord of the citizens. I saw him again afterward at
Velia, departing from Italy, in order that there might be no pretext
for civil war on his account. Oh what a sight was that! grievous, not only to
men but to the very waves and shores. That its savior should be departing from
his country; that its destroyers should be remaining in their country! The fleet
of Cassius followed a few days afterward; so that I was ashamed, O conscript
fathers, to return into the city from which those men were departing. But the
design with which I returned you heard at the beginning, and since that you have
known by experience. Brutus, therefore, bided
his time. For, as long as he saw you endure every thing, he himself behaved with
incredible patience; after that he saw you roused to a desire of liberty, he
prepared the means to protect you in your liberty.
But what a pest, and how great a pest was it which he resisted? For if Caius
Antonius had been able to accomplish what he intended in his mind (and he would
have been able to do so if the virtue of Marcus Brutus had not opposed his
wickedness), we should have lost Macedonia, Illyricum,
and Greece. Greece would have been a refuge for Antonius
if defeated, or a support to him in attacking Italy; which at present, being not only arrayed in arms, but
embellished by the military command and authority and troops of Marcus Brutus,
stretches out her right hand to Italy,
and promises it her protection. And the man who proposes to deprive him of his
army, is taking away a most illustrious honor, and a most trustworthy guard from
the republic. I wish, indeed, that Antonius
may hear this news as speedily as possible, so that he may understand that it is
not Decimus Brutus whom he is surrounding with his ramparts, but he himself who
is really hemmed in.
He possesses three towns only on the whole face of the earth. He has Gaul most bitterly hostile to him; he has even
those men the people beyond the Po, in whom he placed the greatest reliance,
entirely alienated from him; all Italy
is his enemy. Foreign nations, from the nearest coast of Greece to Egypt, are occupied by the military command and armies of most
virtuous and intrepid citizens. His only hope was in Caius Antonius; who being
in age the middle one between his two brothers, rivaled both of them in vices.
He hastened away as if he were being driven away by the senate into Macedonia, not as if he were prohibited from
proceeding thither. What a storm, O ye
immortal gods! what a conflagration! what a devastation! what a pestilence to
Greece would that man have been, if
incredible and godlike virtue had not checked the enterprise and audacity of
that frantic man. What promptness was there in Brutus's conduct! what prudence!
what valor! Although the rapidity of the movement of Caius Antonius also is not
despicable; for if some vacant inheritances had not delayed him on his march,
you might have said that he had flown rather than traveled. When we desire other
men to go forth to undertake any public business, we are scarcely able to get
them out of the city; but we have driven this man out by the mere fact of our
desiring to retain him. But what business had he with Apollonia? what business had he with
Dyrrachium? or with Illyricum? What had he to do with the army of
Publius Vatinius, our general? He, as he said himself, was the successor of
Hortensius. The boundaries of Macedonia
are well defined; the condition of the proconsul is well known; the amount of
his army, if he has any at all, is fixed. But what had Antonius to do at all
with Illyricum and with the legions of
Vatinius?
But Brutus had nothing to do with them either. For that, perhaps, is what some
worthless man may say. All the legions, all
the forces which exist any where, belong to the Roman people. Nor shall those
legions which have quitted Marcus Antonius be called the legions of Antonius
rather than of the republic; for he loses all power over his army, and all the
privileges of military command, who uses that military command and that army to
attack the republic.
But if the republic itself could give a decision, or if all rights were
established by its decrees, would it adjudge the legions of the Roman people to
Antonius or to Brutus? The one had flown with precipitation to the plunder and
destruction of the allies, in order, wherever he went, to lay waste, and
pillage, and plunder everything, and to employ the army of the Roman people
against the Roman people itself. The other had laid down this law for himself,
that wherever he came he should appear to come as a sort of light and hope of
safety. Lastly, the one was seeking aids to overturn the republic; the other to
preserve it. Nor, indeed, did we see this more clearly than the soldiers
themselves; from whom so much discernment in judging was not to have been
expected.
He writes, that Antonius is at Apollonia with seven cohorts, and he is
either by this time taken prisoner (may the gods grant it!) or, at all events,
like a modest man, he does not come near Macedonia, lest he should seem to act in opposition to the
resolution of the senate. A levy of troops has been held in Macedonia, by the great zeal and diligence of
Quintus Hortensius; whose admirable courage, worthy both of himself and of his
ancestors, you may clearly perceive from the letters of Brutus. The legion which
Lucius Piso, the lieutenant of Antonius, commanded, has surrendered itself to
Cicero, my own son. Of the cavalry, which was being led into Syria in two divisions, one division has left
the quaestor who was commanding it, in Thessaly, and has joined Brutus; and Cnaeus Domitius, a young
man of the greatest virtue and wisdom and firmness, has carried off the other
from the Syrian lieutenant in Macedonia. But Publius Vatinius, who has before this been
deservedly praised by us, and who is justly entitled to farther praise at the
present time, has opened the gates of Dyrrachium to Brutus, and has given him up his army.
The Roman people then is now in possession of
Macedonia, and Illyricum, and Greece. The legions there are all devoted to us, the
light-armed troops are ours, the cavalry is ours, and, above all, Brutus is
ours, and always will be ours—a man born for the republic, both by his
own most excellent virtues, and also by some especial destiny of name and
family, both on his father's and on his mother's side.
Does any one then fear war from this man, who, until we commenced the war, being
compelled to do so, preferred lying unknown in peace to flourishing in war?
Although he, in truth, never did lie unknown, nor can this expression possibly
be applied to such great eminence in virtue. For he was the object of regret to
the state; he was in every one's mouth, the subject of every one's conversation.
But he was so far removed from an inclination to war, that, though he was
burning with a desire to see Italy
free, he preferred being wanting to the zeal of the citizens, to leading them to
put every thing to the issue of war. Therefore, those very men, if there be any
such, who find fault with the slowness of Brutus's movements, nevertheless at
the same time admire his moderation and his patience.
But I see now what it is they mean: nor, in truth, do they use much disguise.
They say that they are afraid how the veterans may endure the idea of Brutus
having an army. As if there were any difference between the troops of Aulus
Hirtius, of Caius Pansa, of Decimus Brutus, of Caius Caesar, and this army of
Marcus Brutus. For if these four armies which I have mentioned are praised
because they have taken up arms for the sake of the liberty of the Roman people,
what reason is there why this army of Marcus Brutus should not be classed under
the same head? Oh, but the very name of Marcus Brutus is unpopular among the
veterans.—More than that of Decimus Brutus?—I think not; for
although the action is common to both the Bruti, and although their share in the
glory is equal, still those men who were indignant at that deed were more angry
with Decimus Brutus, because they said, that it was more improper for it to be
executed by him. What now are all those armies laboring at, except to effect the
release of Decimus Brutus from a siege? And who are the commanders of those
armies? Those men, I suppose, who wish the acts of Caius Caesar to be
overturned, and the cause of the veterans to be betrayed.
If Caesar himself were alive, could he, do you imagine, defend his own acts more
vigorously than that most gallant man Hirtius defends them? or, is it possible
that any one should be found more friendly to the cause than his son? But the
one of these, though not long recovered from a year long attack of a most severe
disease, has applied all the energy and influence which he had to defending the
liberty of those men by whose prayers he considered that he himself had been
recalled from death; the other, stronger in the strength of his virtue than in
that of his age, has set out with those very veterans to deliver Decimus Brutus.
Therefore, those men who are both the most certain and at the same time the most
energetic defenders of the acts of Caesar, are waging war for the safety of
Decimus Brutus; and they are followed by the veterans. For they see that they
must fight to the uttermost for the freedom of the Roman people, not for their
own advantages. What reason, then, is there
why the army of Marcus Brutus should be an object of suspicion to those men who
with the whole of their energies desire the preservation of Decimus Brutus?
But, moreover, if there were any thing which were to be feared from Marcus
Brutus, would not Pansa perceive it? Or if he did perceive it, would not he,
too, be anxious about it? Who is either more acute in his conjectures of the
future, or more diligent in warding off danger? But you have already seen his
zeal for, and inclination toward Marcus Brutus. He has already told us in his
speech what we ought to decree, and how we ought to feel with respect to Marcus
Brutus. And he was so far from thinking the army of Marcus Brutus dangerous to
the republic, that he considered it the most important and the most trusty
bulwark of the republic. Either, then, Pansa does not perceive this (no doubt he
is a man of dull intellect), or he disregards it. For he is clearly not anxious
that the acts which Caesar executed should be ratified,—he, who in
compliance with our recommendation is going to bring forward a bill at the
comitia centuriata for sanctioning and confirming them.
Let those, then, who have no fear, cease to pretend to be alarmed, and to be
exercising their foresight in the cause of the republic. And let those who
really are afraid of every thing, cease to be too fearful, lest the pretense of
the one party and the inactivity of the other be injurious to us. What, in the name of mischief! is the object of
always opposing the name of the veterans to every good cause? For even if I were
attached to their virtue, as indeed I am, still, if they were arrogant I should
not be able to tolerate their airs. While we are endeavoring to break the bonds
of slavery, shall any one hinder us by saying that the veterans do not approve
of it? For they are not, I suppose, beyond all counting who are ready to take up
arms in defense of the common freedom! There is no man, except the veteran
soldiers, who is stimulated by the indignation of a freeman to repel slavery!
Can the republic then stand, relying wholly on veterans, without a great
reinforcement of the youth of the state? Whom, indeed, you ought to be attached
to, if they be assistants to you in the assertion of your freedom, but whom you
ought not to follow if they be the advisers of slavery.
Lastly (let me at last say one true word, one word worthy of
myself!)—if the inclinations of this order are governed by the nod of
the veterans, and if all our words and actions are to be referred to their will,
death is what we should wish for, which has always, in the minds of Roman
citizens, been preferable to slavery. All slavery is miserable; but some may
have been unavoidable. Do you think, then, that there is never to be a beginning
of our endeavors to recover our freedom? Or, when we would not bear that fortune
which was unavoidable, and which seemed almost as if appointed by destiny, shall
we tolerate the voluntary bondage! All Italy is burning with a desire for
freedom. The city can not endure slavery any longer We have given this warlike
attire and these arms to the Roman people much later than they have been
demanded of us by them.
We have, indeed, undertaken our present course of action with a great and almost
certain hope of liberty. But even if I allow that the events of war are
uncertain, and that the chances of Mars
are common to both sides, still it is worth while to fight for freedom at the
peril of one's life. For life does not consist wholly in breathing; there is
literally no life at all for one who is a slave. All nations can endure slavery.
Our state can not. Nor is there any other reason for this, except that those
nations shrink from toil and pain, and are willing to endure any thing so long
as they may be free from those evils; but we have been trained and bred up by
our forefathers in such a manner, as to measure all our designs and all our
actions by the standard of dignity and virtue. The recovery of freedom is so
splendid a thing that we must not shun even death when seeking to recover it.
But if immortality were to be the result of our avoidance of present danger,
still slavery would appear still more worthy of being avoided, in proportion as
it is of longer duration. But as all sorts of death surround us on all sides
night and day, it does not become a man, and least of all a Roman, to hesitate
to give up to his country that breath which he owes to nature.
Men flock together from all quarters to extinguish a general conflagration. The
veterans were the first to follow the authority of Caesar and to repel the
attempts of Antonius; afterward the Martial legion checked his frenzy; the
fourth legion crushed it. Being thus condemned by his own legions, he burst into
Gaul which he knew to be adverse
and hostile to him both in word and deed. The armies of Aulus Hirtius and Caius
Caesar pursued him, and afterward the levies of Pansa roused the city and all
Italy. He is the one enemy of all
men. Although he has with him Lucius his brother, a citizen very much beloved by
the Roman people, the regret for whose absence the city is unable to endure any
longer! What can be more foul than that
beast? what more savage? who appears born for the express purpose of preventing
Marcus Antonius from being the basest of all mortals. They have with them
Trebellius, who, now that all debts are canceled, is become reconciled to them;
and Titus Plancus, and other like them; who are striving with all their hearts,
and whose sole object is to appear to have been restored against the will of the
republic. Saxa and Capho, themselves rustic and clownish men, men who never have
seen and who never wish to see this republic firmly established, are tampering
with the ignorant classes; men who are not upholding the acts of Caesar but
those of Antonius; who are led away by the unlimited occupation of the Campanian
district; and who I marvel are not somewhat ashamed when they see that they have
actors and actresses for their neighbors.
Why then should we be displeased that the army of Marcus Brutus is thrown into
the scale to assist us in overwhelming these pests of the commonwealth? It is
the army, I suppose, of an intemperate and turbulent man. I am more afraid of
his being too patient; although in all the counsels and actions of that man
there never has been any thing either too much or too little. The whole
inclinations of Marcus Brutus, O conscript fathers, the whole of his thoughts,
the whole of his ideas, are directed toward the authority of the senate and the
freedom of the Roman people. These are the objects which he proposes to himself;
these are what he desires to uphold. He has tried what he could do by patience;
as he did nothing, he has thought it necessary to encounter force by force. And,
O conscript fathers, you ought at this time to grant him the same honors which
on the nineteenth of December you conferred by my advice on Decimus Brutus and
Caius Caesar, whose designs and conduct in regard to the republic, while they
also were but private individuals, was approved of and praised by your
authority. And you ought to do the same now
with respect to Marcus Brutus, by whom an unhoped for and sudden reinforcement
of legions and cavalry, and numerous and trusty bands of allies, have been
provided for the republic.
Quintus Hortensius also ought to have a share of your praise, who, being governor
of Macedonia, joined Brutus as a most
faithful and untiring assistant in collecting that army. For I think that a
separate motion ought to be made respecting Marcus Appuleius, to whom Brutus
bears witness in his letters that he has been a prime assistant to him in his
endeavors to get together and equip his army.
And since this is the case,
“As Caius Pansa the consul has addressed to us a speech concerning the
letters which have been received from Quintus Caepio Brutus,Brutus had been adopted by his maternal uncle Quintus Servilius Caepio; so
that his legal designation was what is given in the text now, as Cicero is
proposing a formal vote—though at all other times we see that he
calls him Marcus Brutus. proconsul, and have been read in this
assembly, I give my vote in this matter thus:
“Since, by the exertions and wisdom and industry and valor of Quintus
Caepio Brutus, proconsul, at a most critical period of the republic, the
province of Macedonia, and Illyricum, and all Greece, and the legions and armies and
cavalry, have been preserved in obedience to the consuls and senate and people
of Rome; Quintus Caepio Brutus,
proconsul, has acted well, and in a manner advantageous to the republic, and
suitable to his own dignity and to that of his ancestors, and to the principles
according to which alone the affairs of the republic can be properly managed;
and that conduct is and will be grateful to the senate and people of Rome.
“And moreover, as Quintus Caepio Brutus, proconsul, is occupying and
defending and protecting the province of Macedonia, and Illyricum, and all Greece, and is preserving them in safety; and as he is in
command of an army which he himself has levied and collected, he is at liberty
if he has need of any, to exact money for the use of the military service, which
belongs to the public, and can lawfully be exacted, and to use it, and to borrow
money for the exigencies of the war from whomsoever he thinks fit, and to exact
corn, and to endeavor to approach Italy
as near as he can with his forces. And as it has been understood from the
letters of Quintus Caepio Brutus, proconsul, that the republic has been greatly
benefited by the energy and valor of Quintus Hortensius, proconsul, and that all
his counsels have been in harmony with those of Quintus Caepio Brutus,
proconsul, and that that harmony has been of the greatest service to the
republic; Quintus Hortensius has acted well and becomingly, and in a manner
advantageous to the republic. And the senate decrees that Quintus Hortensius,
proconsul, shall occupy the province of Macedonia with his quaestors, or proquaestors and lieutenants,
until he shall have a successor regularly appointed by a resolution of the
senate.”
THE ELEVENTH ORATION OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. CALLED ALSO THE ELEVENTH PHILIPPIC.
THE ARGUMENT.
A short time after the delivery of the preceding speech, news came to
Rome of Dolabella (the
colleague of Antonius) having been very successful in Asia. He had left Rome before the expiration of his
consulship to take possession of Syria, which Antonius had contrived to have allotted him;
and he hoped to prevail on the inhabitants of the province of Asia also to abandon Trebonius (who had
been one of the slayers of Caesar, and was governor of Asia), and submit to him. Trebonius was
residing at Smyrna; and
Dolabella arrived before the walls of that town with very few troops,
requesting a free passage through Trebonius's province. Trebonius refused to
admit him into the town, but promised that he would permit him to enter
Ephesus. Dolabella, however,
effected an entry into Smyrna by
a nocturnal surprise, and seized Trebonius, whom he murdered with great
cruelty.
As soon as the news of this event reached Rome, the consul summoned the senate, which at once
declared Dolabella a public enemy, and confiscated his estate. Calenus was
the mover of this decree. But besides this motion there was another question
to be settled, namely, who was to be appointed to conduct the war against
Dolabella. Some proposed to send Publius Servilius; others, that the two
consuls should be sent, and should have the two provinces of Asia and Syria allotted to them; and this last proposition Pansa
himself was favorable to; and it was supported not only by his friends, but
also by the partisans of Antonius, who thought it would draw off the consuls
from their present business of relieving Decimus Brutus. But Cicero thought
that it would be an insult to Cassius, who was already in those countries,
to supersede him as it were, by sending anyone else to command there; and so
he exerted all his influence to procure a decree entrusting the command to
him; though Servilia, the mother-in-law of Cassius, and other of Cassius's
friends, begged him not to disoblige Pansa. He persevered, however, and made
the following speech in support of his opinion.
It appears that Cicero failed in his proposition through the influence of
Pansa; but before any orders came from Rome, Cassius had defeated Dolabella near Laodicea, and he killed himself to avoid
falling into the hands of his conqueror.
Amid the great grief, O conscript fathers, or rather misery which we have
suffered at the cruel and melancholy death of Caius Trebonius, a most virtuous
citizen and a most moderate man, there is still a circumstance or two in the
case which I think will turn out beneficial to the republic. For we have now
thoroughly seen what great barbarity these men are capable of who have taken up
wicked arms against their country. For these two, Dolabella and Antonius, are
the very blackest and foulest monsters that have ever lived since the birth of
man; one of whom has now done what he wished; and as to the other, it has been
plainly shown what he intended. Lucius. Cinna was cruel; Caius Marius was
unrelenting in his anger; Lucius Sulla was fierce; but still the inhumanity of
none of these men ever Went beyond death; and that punishment indeed was thought
too cruel to be inflicted on citizens.
Here now you have a pair equal in wickedness; unprecedented, unheard of, savage,
barbarous. Therefore those men whose vehement mutual hatred and quarrel you
recollect a short time ago, have now been united in singular unanimity and
mutual attachment by the singularity of their wicked natures and most infamous
lives. Therefore, that which Dolabella has now done in a case in which he had
the power, Antonius threatens many with. But the former, as he was a long way
from our counsels and armies, and as he was not yet aware that the senate had
united with the Roman people, relying on the forces of Antonius, has committed
those wicked actions which he thought were already put in practice at Rome by his accomplice in wickedness.
What else then do you think that this man
is contriving or wishing, or what other object do you think he has in the war?
All of us who have either entertained the thoughts of freemen concerning the
republic, or have given utterance to opinions worthy of ourselves, he decides to
be not merely opposed to him, but actual enemies. And he plans inflicting
bitterer punishments on us than on the enemy; he thinks death a punishment
imposed by nature, but torments and tortures the proper inflictions of anger.
What sort of enemy then must we consider that man who, if he be victorious,
requires one to think death a kindness if he spares one the tortures with which
it is in his power to accompany it?
Wherefore, O conscript fathers, although you do not need any one to exhort you
(for you yourself have of your own accord warmed up with the desire of
recovering your freedom), still defend, I warn you, your freedom with so much
the more zeal and courage, in proportion as the punishments of slavery with
which you see the conquered are threatened are more terrible. Antonius has invaded Gaul; Dolabella, Asia;
each a province with which he had no business whatever. Brutus has opposed
himself to the one, and at the peril of his own life has checked the onset of
that frantic man wishing to harass and plunder every thing, has prevented his
farther progress, and has cut him off from his return. By allowing himself to be
besieged he has hemmed in Antonius on each side.
The other has forced his way into Asia.
With what object! If it was merely to proceed into Syria, he had a road open to him which was sure, and was not
long. What was the need of sending forward some Marsian, they call him Octavius,
with a legion; a wicked and necessitous robber; a man to lay waste the lands, to
harass the cities, not from any hope of acquiring any permanent property, which
they who know him say that he is unable to keep (for I have not the honor of
being acquainted with this senator myself), but just as present food to satisfy
his indigence? Dolabella followed him, without
any one having any suspicion of war. For how could any one think of such a
thing? Very friendly conferences with Trebonius ensued; embraces, false tokens
of the greatest good-will, were there full of simulated affection; the pledge of
the right hand, which used to be a witness of good faith, was violated by
treachery and wickedness; then came the nocturnal entry into Smyrna, as if into an enemy's
city—Smyrna, which is
a city of our most faithful and most ancient allies; then the surprise of
Trebonius, who, if he were surprised by one who was an open enemy, was very
careless; if by one who up to that moment maintained the appearance of a
citizen, was miserable. And by his example fortune wished us to take a lesson of
what the conquered party had to fear. He handed over a man of consular rank,
governing the province of Asia with
consular authority, to an exiled armorer;The Latin is
Samiarius, or as some read it Samarius. Orellius says, “perhaps it means
some sort of trade, for I doubt its having been a Roman proper
name,” Nizollius says, “Samarius
exul—proverbium.” Facciolatti calls him a
man whose business it was to clean the arms of the guards. &c., with
Samian chalk. he would not slay him the moment that he had taken him,
fearing, I suppose, that his victory might appear too merciful; but after having
attacked that most excellent man with insulting words from his impious mouth,
then he examined him with scourges and tortures. Concerning the public money,
and that for two days together. Afterward he cut off his head, and ordered it to
be fixed on a javelin and carried about; and the rest of his body, having been
dragged through the street and town, he threw into the sea.
We, then, have to war against this enemy by
whose most foul cruelty all the savageness of barbarous nations is surpassed.
Why need I speak of the massacre of Roman citizens! of the plunder of temples?
Who is there who can possibly deplore such circumstances as their atrocity
deserves? And now he is ranging all over Asia, he is triumphing about as a king, he thinks that we are
occupied in another quarter by another war, as if it were not one and the same
war against this outrageous pair of impious men.
You see now an image of the cruelty of Marcus Antonius in Dolabella; this conduct
of his is formed on the model of the other. It is by him that the lessons of
wickedness have been taught to Dolabella. Do you think that Antonius, if he had
the power, would be more merciful in Italy than Dolabella has proved in Asia? To me, indeed, this latter appears to have gone as far as
the insanity of a savage man could go; nor do I believe that Antonius either
would omit any description of punishment, if he had only the power to inflict
it.
Place then before your eyes, O conscript
fathers, that spectacle, miserable indeed, and tearful, but still indispensable
to rouse your minds properly: the nocturnal attack upon the most beautiful city
in Asia; the irruption of armed men
into Trebonius's house, when that unhappy man saw the swords of the robbers
before he heard what was the matter; the entrance of Dolabella,
raging,—his ill-omened voice, and infamous countenance,—the
chains, the scourges, the rack, the armorer who was both torturer and
executioner; all which they say that the unhappy Trebonius endured with great
fortitude. A great praise, and in my opinion indeed the greatest of all, for it
is the part of a wise man to resolve beforehand that whatever can happen to a
brave man is to be endured with patience if it should happen. It is indeed a
proof of altogether greater wisdom to act with such foresight as to prevent any
such thing from happening; but it is a token of no less courage to bear it
bravely if it should befall one.
And Dolabella was indeed so wholly forgetful of the claims of humanity (although,
indeed, he never had any particular recollection of it), as to vent his
insatiable cruelty, not only on the living man, but also on the dead carcass,
and, as he could not sufficiently glut his hatred, to feed his eyes also on the
lacerations inflicted, and the insults offered to his corpse.
O Dolabella, much more wretched than he whom you intended to be the most wretched
of all men! Trebonius endured great agonies; many men have endured greater
still, from severe disease, whom, however, we are in the habit of calling not
miserable, but afflicted. His sufferings, which lasted two days, were long; but
many men have had sufferings lasting many years; nor are the tortures inflicted
by executioners more terrible than those caused by disease are sometimes.
There are other
tortures,—others, I tell you, O you most abandoned and insane man,
which are far more miserable. For in proportion as the vigor of the mind exceeds
that of the body, so also are the sufferings which rack the mind more terrible
than those which are endured by the body. He, therefore, who commits a wicked
action is more wretched than he who is compelled to endure the wickedness of
another. Trebonius was tortured by Dolabella; and so, indeed, was Regulus by the
Carthaginians. If on that account the Carthaginians were considered very cruel
for such behavior to an enemy, what must we think of Dolabella, who treated a
citizen in such a manner? Is there any comparison? or can we doubt which of the
two is most miserable? he whose death the senate and Roman people wish to
avenge, or he who has been adjudged an enemy by the unanimous vote of the
senate? For in every other particular of their lives, who could possibly,
without the greatest insult to Trebonius, compare the life of Trebonius to that
of Dolabella? Who is ignorant of the wisdom, and genius, and humanity, and
innocence of the one, and of his greatness of mind as displayed in his exertions
for the freedom of his country? The other, from his very childhood, has taken
delight in cruelty; and, moreover, such has been the shameful nature of his
lusts, that he has always delighted in the very fact of doing those things which
he could not even be reproached with by a modest enemy.
And this man, O ye immortal gods, was once my
relation! For his vices were unknown to one who did not inquire into such
things: nor perhaps should I now be alienated from him if he had not been
discovered to be an enemy to you, to the walls of his country, to this city, to
our household gods, to the altars and hearths of all of us,—in short,
to human nature and to common humanity. But now, having received this lesson
from him, let us be the more diligent and vigilant in being on our guard against
Antonius.
Indeed, Dolabella had not with him any great number of notorious and conspicuous
robbers. But you see there are with Antonius, and in what numbers. In the first
place, there is his brother Lucius—what a fire-brand, O ye immortal
gods! what an incarnation of crime and wickedness! what a gulf, what a whirlpool
of a man! What do you think that man incapable of swallowing up in his mind, or
gulping down in his thoughts? Who do you imagine there is whose blood he is not
thirsting for? who on whose possessions and fortunes he is not fixing his most
impudent eyes, his hopes, and his whole heart? What shall we say of Censorinus?
who, as far as words go, said indeed that he wished to be the city praetor; but
who, in fact, was unwilling to be so. What of
Bestia, who professes that he is a candidate for the consulship in the place of
Brutus? May Jupiter avert from us this
most detestable omen! But how absurd is it for a man to stand for the consulship
who can not be elected praetor! unless, indeed, he thinks his conviction may be
taken as an equivalent to the praetorship Let this second Caesar, this great
Vopiscus,Vopiscus is another name of Bestia. a
man of consummate genius, of the highest influence, who seeks the consulship
immediately after having been aedile, be excused from obedience to the laws.
Although, indeed, the laws do not bind him, on account, I suppose, of his
exceeding dignity. But this man has been acquitted five times when I have
defended him. To win a sixth city victory is difficult, even in the case of a
gladiator. However, this is the fault of the judges; not mine. I defended him
with perfect good faith; they were bound to retain a most illustrious and
excellent: citizen in the republic; who now, however, appears to have no other
object except to make us understand that those men whose judicial decisions we
annulled, decided rightly and in a manner advantageous to the republic.
Nor is this the case with respect to this man alone; there are other men in the
same camp honestly condemned and shamefully restored; what counsel do you
imagine can be adopted by those men who are enemies to all good men, that is not
utterly cruel? There is besides a fellow called Saxa; I don't know who he is;
some man whom Caesar imported from the extremity of Celtiberia and gave us for a
tribune of the people. Before that, he was a measurer of ground for camps; now
he hopes to measure out and value the city. May the evils which this foreigner
predicts to us fall on his own head, and may we escape in safety! With him is
the veteran Capho; nor is there any man whom the veteran troops hate more
cordially: to these men, as if in addition to the dowry which they had received
during our civil disasters, Antonius had given the Campanian district, that they
might have it as a sort of nurse for their other estates. I only wish they would
be contented with them! We would bear it then, though it would not be what ought
to be borne; but still it would be worth our while to bear any thing, as long as
we could escape this most shameful war.
What more? Have you not before your eyes those ornaments of the camp of Marcus.
Antonius? In the first place, these two
colleagues of the Antonii and Dolabella, Nucula and Lento, the dividers of all
Italy according to that law which
the senate pronounced to have been carried by violence; one of whom has been a
writer of farces, and the other an actor of tragedies. Why should I speak of
Domitius the Apulian? whose property we have lately seen advertised, so great is
the carelessness of his agents. But this man lately was not content with giving
poison to his sister's son, he actually drenched him with it. But it is
impossible for these men to live in any other than a prodigal manner, who hope
for our property while they are squandering their own. I have seen also an
auction of the property of Publius Decius, an illustrious man; who, following
the example of his ancestors, devoted himself for the debts of another. But at
that auction no one was found to be a purchaser. Ridiculous man to think it
possible to escape from debt by selling other people's property! For why should
I speak of Trebellius? on whom the furies of debts seem to have wreaked their
vengeance; for we have seen one tableIt is impossible to
give the force of the original here, which plays on the word tabula. The Latin is vindicem
enim novarum tabularum novam tabulam vidimus; novae tabulae meaning, as is well known, a law for
the abolition of debts, nova tabula in the
singular, an advertisement of (Trebellius's) property being to be
sold. avenging another. Why should
I speak of Plancus? whom that most illustrious citizen Aquila has driven from Pollentia,—and that too with a
broken leg; and I wish he had met with that accident earlier, so as not to be
liable to return hither.
I had almost passed over the light and glory of that army, Caius Annius Cimber,
the son of Lysidicus, a Lysidicus himself in the Greek meaning of the word,
since he has broken all laws, unless perhaps it is natural for a Cimbrian to
slay a German.Here too is a succession of puns. Lysidicus
is derived from the Greek lu/w, to loosen
and di/kh, justice. Cimber is a proper name and also means one of the nation of
the Cimbri. Germanus is a German and germanus a brother; and he means here to impute to
Caius Cimber that he had murdered his brother. When Antonius has such
numbers with him, and those too men of that sort, what crime will he shrink
from, when Dolabella has polluted himself with such atrocious murders without at
all an equal troop of robbers to support him?
Wherefore, as I have often at other times differed against my will from Quintus
Fufius, so on this occasion I gladly agree with his proposition. And from this
you may see that my difference is not with the man, but with the cause which he
sometimes advocates.
Therefore, at present I not only agree with Quintus Fufius, but I even return
thanks to him; for he has given utterance to opinions which are upright, and
dignified, and worthy of the republic. He has pronounced Dolabella a public
enemy; he has declared his opinion that his property ought to be confiscated by
public authority. And though nothing could be added to this (for, indeed, what
could he propose more severe or more pitiless?), nevertheless, he said that if
any of those men who were asked their opinion after him proposed any more severe
sentence, he would vote for it. Who can avoid praising such severity as this?
Now, since Dolabella has been pronounced a public enemy, he must be pursued by
war. For he himself will not remain quiet. He has a legion with him; he has
troops of runaway slaves, he has a wicked band of impious men; he himself is
confident, intemperate, and bent on falling by the death of a gladiator.
Wherefore since as. Dolabella was voted an enemy by the decree which was passed
yesterday, war must be waged, we must necessarily appoint a general.
Two opinions have been advanced; neither of which do I approve. The one, because
I always think it dangerous unless it be absolutely necessary; the other,
because I think it wholly unsuited to the emergency. For an extraordinary commission is a measure suited rather
to the fickle character of the mob; one which does not at all become our dignity
or this assembly. In the war against Antiochus, a great and important war, when
Asia had fallen by lot to Lucius
Scipio as his province, and when he was thought to have hardly spirit and hardly
vigor enough for it; and when the senate was inclined to entrust the business to
his colleague Caius Laelius, the father of this Laelius, who was surnamed the
Wise; Publius Africanus, the elder brother of Lucius Scipio, rose up, and
entreated them not to cast such a slur on his family, and said that in his
brother there was united the greatest possible valor, with the most consummate
prudence; and that he too, notwithstanding his age, and all the exploits which
he had performed, would attend his brother as his lieutenant. And after he had
said this, nothing was changed in respect to Scipio's province; nor was any
extraordinary command sought for any more in that war than in those two terrible
Punic wars which had preceded it, which were carried on and conducted to their
termination either by the consuls or by dictators; or than in the war with
Pyrrhus, or in that with Philippus, or afterward in the Achaean war, or in the
third Punic war; for which last the Roman people took great care to select a
suitable general, Publius Scipio, but at the same time it appointed him to the
consulship in order to conduct it.
War was to be waged against Aristonicus in the consulship of Publius Licinius and
Lucius. Valerius. The people consulted as to whom it wished to have the
management of that war. Crassus, the consul and Pontifex Maximus, threatened to
impose a fine upon Flaccus his colleague, the priest of Mars, if he deserted the
sacrifices. And though the people remitted the fine, still they ordered the
priest to submit to the commands of the pontiff. But even then the Roman people
did not commit the management of the war to a private individual; although there
was Africanus, who the year before had celebrated a triumph over the people of
Numantia; and who was far superior
to all men in martial renown and military skill; yet he only gained the votes of
two tribunes. And accordingly the Roman people entrusted the management of the
war to Crassus the consul rather than to the private individual Africanus. As to
the commands given to Cnaeus Pompeius, that most illustrious man, that first of
men, they were carried by some turbulent tribunes of the people. For the war
against Sertorius was only given by the senate to a private individual because
the consuls refused it; when Lucius Philippus said that he sent the general in
the place of the two consuls, not as proconsul.
What then is the object of these comitia? or what is
the meaning of this canvassing which that most wise and dignified citizen,
Lucius Caesar, has introduced into the senate? He has proposed to vote a
military command to one who is certainly a most illustrious and unimpeachable
man, but still only a private individual. And by doing so he has imposed a heavy
burden upon us. Suppose I agree; shall I by so doing countenance the
introduction of the practice of canvassing into the senate-house? Suppose I vote
against it; shall I appear as if I were in the comitia to have refused an honor to a man who is one of my
greatest friends? But if we are to have the comitia
in the senate, let us ask for votes, let us canvass; let a voting-tablet be
given us, just as one is given to the people. Why do you, O Caesar, allow it to
be so managed that either a most illustrious man, if your proposition be not
agreed to, shall appear to have received a repulse, or else that one of us shall
appear to have been passed over, if, while we were men of equal dignity, we are
not considered worthy of equal honor?
But (for this is what I hear is said), I
myself gave by my own vote an extraordinary commission to Caius Caesar. Yes,
indeed, for he had given me extraordinary protection; when I say me, I mean he
had given it to the senate and to the Roman people. Was I to refuse giving an
extraordinary military command to that man from whom the republic had received
protection which had never even been thought of, but that still was of so much
consequence that without it she could not have been safe? There were only the
alternatives of taking his army from him, or giving him such a command. For on
what principle or by what means can an army be retained by a man who has not
been invested with any military command? We must not, therefore, think that a
thing has been given to a man which has, in fact, not been taken away from him.
You would, O conscript fathers have taken a command away from Caius Caesar, if
you had not given him one. The veteran soldiers, who, following his authority
and command and name, had taken up arms in the cause of the republic, desired to
be commanded by him. The Martial legion and the fourth legion had submitted to
the authority of the senate, and had devoted themselves to uphold the dignity of
the republic, in such a way as to feel that they had a right to demand Caius
Caesar for their commander. It was the necessity of the war that invested Caius
Caesar with military command; the senate only gave him the ensigns of it. But I
beg you to tell me, O Lucius. Caesar,—I am aware that I am arguing
with a man of the greatest experience,—when did the senate ever confer
a military command on a private individual who was in a state of inactivity, and
doing nothing?
However, I have been speaking hitherto to avoid the appearance of gratuitously
opposing a man who is a great friend of mine, and who has showed me great
kindness. Although, can one deny a thing to a person who not only does not ask
for it, but who even refuses it? But, O
conscript fathers, that proposition is unsuited to the dignity of the consuls,
unsuited to the critical character of the times; namely, the proposition that
the consuls, for the sake of pursuing Dolabella, shall have the provinces of
Asia and Syria allotted to them. I will explain why it
is inexpedient for the republic; but first of all, consider what ignominy it
fixes on the consuls. When a consul elect is being besieged, when the safety of
the republic depends upon his liberation, when mischievous and parricidal
citizens have revolted from the republic, and when we are carrying on a war in
which we are fighting for our dignity, for our freedom, and for our lives; and
when, if any one falls into the power of Antonius, tortures and torments are
prepared for him; and when the struggle for all these objects has been committed
and entrusted to our most admirable and gallant consuls,—shall any
mention be made of Asia and Syria, so that we may appear to have given any
injurious cause for others to entertain suspicion of us, or to bring us into
unpopularity? They do indeed propose it,
“after having liberated Brutus,”—for those were
the last words of the proposal; say rather, after having deserted, abandoned,
and betrayed him.
But I say that any mention whatever of any provinces has been made at a most
unseasonable time. For although your mind, O Caius Pansa, be ever so intent, as
indeed it is, on effecting the liberation of the most brave and illustrious of
all men, still the nature of things would compel you inevitably sometimes to
turn your thoughts to the idea of pursuing Antonius, and to divert some portion
of your care and attention to Asia and
Syria But if it were possible I could wish you to have more minds than one and
yet to direct them all upon Mutina.
But since that is impossible, I do wish you, with that most virtuous and all
accomplished mind which you have got, to think of nothing but Brutus. And that indeed, is what you are doing; that is what
you are especially striving at; but still no man can, I will not say do two
things, especially two most important things, at one time, but he can not even
do entire justice to them both in his thoughts. It is our duty rather to spur on
and inflame that excellent eagerness of yours, and not to transfer any portion
of it to another object of care in a different direction.
Add to these considerations the way men talk, the way in which they nourish
suspicion, the way in which they take dislikes. Imitate me whom you have always
praised; for I rejected a province fully appointed and provided by the senate,
for the purpose of discarding all other thoughts, and devoting all my efforts to
extinguishing the conflagration that threatened to consume my country. There was
no one except me alone, to whom, indeed, you would, in consideration of our
intimacy, have been sure to communicate any thing which concerned your
interests, who would believe that the province had been decreed to you against
your will. I entreat you, check, as is due to your eminent wisdom, this report,
and do not seem to be desirous of that which you do not in reality care about.
And you should take the more care of this
point, because your colleague, a most illustrious man, can not fall under the
same suspicion. He knows nothing of all that is going on here; he suspects
nothing; he is conducting the war; he is standing in battle array; he is
fighting for his blood and for his life; he will hear of the province being
decreed to him before he could imagine that there had been time for such a
proceeding. I am afraid that our armies too, which have devoted themselves to
the republic, not from any compulsory levy, but of their own voluntary zeal,
will be checked in their ardor, if they suppose that we are thinking of any
thing but instant war.
But if provinces appear to the consuls as things to be desired, as they often
have been desired by many illustrious men; first restore us Brutus, the light
and glory of the state; whom we ought to preserve like that statue which fell
from heaven, and is guarded by the protection of Vesta: which, as long as it is
safe, insures our safety also. Then we will raise you, if it be possible, even
to heaven on our shoulders; unquestionably we will select for you the most
worthy provinces. But at present let us apply ourselves to the business before
us. And the question is, whether we will live as freemen, or die; for death is
certainly to be preferred to slavery. What
more need I say? Suppose that proposition causes delay in the pursuit of
Dolabella? For when will the consul arrive? Are we waiting till there is not
even a vestige of the towns and cities of Asia left? “But they will send some one of their
officers.”—That will certainly be a step that I shall quite
approve of; I who just now objected to giving any extraordinary military command
to ever so illustrious a man if he were only a private individual.
“But they will send a man worthy of such a charge.” Will
they send one more worthy than Publius Servilius? But the city has not such a
man. What then he himself thinks ought to be given to no one, not even by the
senate, can I approve of that being conferred by the decision of one man?
We have need, O conscript fathers, of a
man ready and prepared, and of one who has a military command legally conferred
on him; and of one who, besides this, has authority, and a name, and an army,
and a courage which has been already tried in his exertions for the deliverance
of the republic.
Who then is that man? Either Marcus Brutus, or Caius Cassius, or both of them. I
would vote in plain words, as there are many precedents for, one consul or both,
if we had not already hampered Brutus sufficiently in Greece, and if we had not preferred having his
reinforcement approach nearer to Italy
rather than move farther off toward Asia; not so much in order to receive succor ourselves from
that army, as to enable that army to receive aid across the water. Besides, O
conscript fathers, even now Caius. Antonius is detaining Marcus Brutus, for he
occupies Apollonia, a large and
important city; he occupies, as I believe, Byllis; he occupies Amantia; he is threatening Epirus; he is pressing on Illyricum; he has with him several cohorts,
and he has cavalry. If Brutus be transferred from this district to any other
war, we shall at all events lose Greece. We must also provide for the safety of Brundusium and all that coast of
Italy. Although I marvel that
Antonius delays so long; for he is accustomed usually to put on his marching
dress, and not to endure the fear of a siege for any length of time. But if
Brutus has finished that business, and perceives that he can better serve the
republic by pursuing Dolabella than by remaining in Greece, he will act of his own head, as he has hitherto done;
nor amid such a general conflagration will he wait for the orders of the senate
when instant help is required. For both
Brutus and Cassius have in many instances been a senate to themselves. For it is
quite inevitable that in such a confusion and disturbance of all things men
should be guided by the present emergency rather than by precedent. Nor will
this be the first time that either Brutus or Cassius has considered the safety
and deliverance of his country his most holy law and his most excellent
precedent. Therefore, if there were no motion submitted to us about the pursuit
of Dolabella, still I should consider it equivalent to a decree, when there were
men of such a character for virtue, authority, and the greatest nobleness,
possessing armies, one of which is already known to us, and the other has been
abundantly heard of.
Brutus then, you may be sure, has not waited for our decrees, as he was sure of
our desires. For he is not gone to his own province of Crete; he has flown to Macedonia, which belonged to another; he has
accounted every thing his own which you have wished to be yours; he has enlisted
new legions; he has received old ones; he has gained over to his own standard
the cavalry of Dolabella, and, even before that man was polluted with such
enormous parricide, he, of his own head, pronounced him his enemy. For if he
were not one, by what right could he himself have tempted the cavalry to abandon
the consul? What more need I say? Did not
Caius Cassius, a man endowed with equal greatness of mind and with equal wisdom,
depart from Italy with the deliberate
object of preventing Dolabella from obtaining possession of Syria? By what law? By what right? By that
which Jupiter himself has sanctioned, that every thing which was advantageous to
the republic should be considered legal and just.
For law is nothing but a correct principle drawn from the inspiration of the
gods, commanding what is honest, and forbidding the contrary. Cassius,
therefore, obeyed this law when he went into Syria; a province which belonged to another, if men were to
abide by the written laws; but which, when these were trampled under foot, was
his by the law of nature. But in order that
they may be sanctioned by your authority also, I now give my vote, that,
“As Publius Dolabella, and those who have been the ministers of and
accomplices and assistants in his cruel and infamous crime, have been pronounced
enemies of the Roman people by the senate,
and as the senate has voted that Publius Dolabella shall be pursued with war, in
order that he who has violated all laws of men and gods by a new and unheard of
and inexpiable wickedness, and has committed the most infamous treason against
his country, may suffer the punishment which is his due, and which he has well
deserved at the hands of gods and men; the senate decrees that Caius Cassius,
proconsul, shall have the government of Syria as one appointed to that province with all due form; and
that he shall receive their armies from Quintus Marcius Crispus, proconsul, from
Lucius Statius Marcus, proconsul, from Aulus Allienus, lieutenant, and that they
shall deliver them up to him; and that he, with these troops and with any more
which he may have got from other quarters, shall pursue Dolabella with war both
by sea and land; that, for the sake of carrying on war, he shall have authority
and power to buy ships, and sailors, and money, and whatever else may be
necessary or useful for the carrying on of the war, in whatever places it seems
fitting to him to do so, throughout Syria, Asia,
Bithynia, and Pontus; and that, in whatever province he
shall arrive for the purpose of carrying on that war, in that province as soon
as Caius Cassius, proconsul, shall arrive in it, the power of Caius Cassius,
proconsul, shall be superior to that of him who may be the regular governor of
the province at the time. That king Deiotarus
the father, and also king Deiotarus the son, if they assist Caius Cassius,
proconsul, with their armies and treasures, as they have heretofore often
assisted the generals of the Roman people, will do a thing which will be
grateful to the senate and people of Rome; and that also, if the rest of the kings and tetrarchs and
governors in those districts do the same, the senate and people of Rome will not be forgetful of their loyalty
and kindness; and that Caius Pansa and Aulus Hirtius the consuls, one or both of
them, as it seems good to them, as soon as they have reestablished the republic,
shall at the earliest opportunity submit a motion to this order about the
consular and praetorian provinces; and that, in the meantime, the provinces
should continue to be governed by those officers by whom they are governed at
present, until a successor be appointed to each by a resolution of the
senate.”
By this resolution of the senate you will inflame the existing ardor of Cassius,
and you will give him additional arms; for you can not be ignorant of his
disposition, or of the resources which he has at present. His disposition is
such as you see; his resources, which you have heard stated to you, are those of
a gallant and resolute man, who, even while Trebonius was alive, would not
permit the piratical crew of Dolabella to penetrate into Syria. Allienus, my intimate friend and
connection, who went thither after the death of Trebonius, will not permit
himself to be called the lieutenant of Dolabella. The army of Quintus Caecilius
Bassus, a man indeed without any regular appointment, but a brave and eminent
man, is vigorous and victorious. The army of
Deiotarus the king, both father and son, is very numerous; and equipped in our
fashion. Moreover, in the son there is the greatest hope, the greatest vigor of
genius and a good disposition, and the most eminent valor. Why need I speak of
the father? whose good-will toward the Roman people is coeval with his life; who
has not only been the ally of our commanders in their wars, but has also served
himself as the general of his own troops. What great things have Sulla, and
Murena, and Servilius, and Lucullus said of that man; what complimentary, what
honorable and dignified mention have they often made of him in the senate!
Why should I speak of Cnaeus Pompeius?
who considered Deiotarus the only friend and real well-wisher from his heart,
the only really loyal man to the Roman people in the whole world? We were
generals, Marcus Bibulus and I, in neighboring provinces bordering on his
kingdom; and we were assisted by that same monarch both with cavalry and
infantry. Then followed this most miserable and disastrous civil war; in which I
need not say what Deiotarus ought to have done, or what would have been the most
proper course which he could have adopted, especially as victory decided for the
party opposed to the wishes of Deiotarus. And if in that war he committed any
error, he did so in common with the senate. If his judgment was the right one,
then even though defeated it does not deserve to be blamed. To these resources
other kings and other levies of troops will be added. Nor will fleets be wanting to us; so greatly do the Tyrians
esteem Cassius, so mighty is his name in Syria and Phoenicia.
The republic, O conscript fathers, has a general ready against Dolabella, in
Caius Cassius, and not ready only, but also skillful and brave. He performed
great exploits before the arrival of Bibulus, a most illustrious man, when he
defeated the most eminent generals of the Parthians and their innumerable
armies, and delivered Syria from their
most formidable invasion. I pass over his greatest and most extraordinary glory;
for as the mention of it is not yet acceptable to every one, we had better
preserve it in our recollection than by hearing testimony to it with our voice.
I have noticed, O conscript fathers, that
some people have said before now, that even Brutus is too much extolled by me,
that Cassius is too much extolled; and that by this proposition of mine absolute
power and quite a principality is conferred upon Cassius. Whom do I extol? Those
who are themselves the glory of the republic. What? have I not at all times
extolled Decimus Brutus whenever I have delivered my opinion at all? Do you then
find fault with me? or should I rather praise the Antonii, the disgrace and
infamy not only of their own families, but of the Roman name? or should I speak
in favor of Censorinus, an enemy in time of war, an assassin in time of peace?
or should I collect all the other ruined men of that band of robbers? But I am
so far from extolling those enemies of tranquillity, of concord, of the laws, of
the courts of justice, and of liberty, that I cannot avoid hating them as much
as I love the republic. “Beware,
says one, “how you offend the veterans. For this is what I am most
constantly told. But I certainly ought to protect the rights of the veterans; of
those at least who are well disposed; but surely I ought not to fear them. And
those veterans who have taken up arms in the cause of the republic, and have
followed Caius Caesar, remembering the kindnesses which they received from his
father, and who at this day are defending the republic to their own great
personal danger,—those I ought not only to defend, but to seek to
procure additional advantages for them. But those also who remain quiet, such as
the sixth and eighth legion, I consider worthy of great glory and praise. But as
for those companions of Antonius, who after they have devoured the benefits of
Caesar, besiege the consul elect, threaten this city with fire and sword, and
have given themselves up to Saxa and Capho, men born for crime and plunder, who
is there who thinks that those men ought to be defended? Therefore the veterans
are either good men, whom we ought to load with distinctions; or quiet men, whom
we ought to preserve; or impious ones, against whose frenzy we have declared war
and taken up legitimate arms.
Who then are the veterans whom we are to be fearful of offending? Those who are
desirous to deliver Decimus Brutus from siege? for how can those men, to whom
the safety of Brutus is dear, hate the name of Cassius? Or those men who abstain
from taking arms on either side? I have no fear of any of those men who delight
in tranquillity becoming a mischievous citizen. But as for the third class, whom
I call not veteran soldiers, but infamous enemies, I wish to inflict on them the
most bitter pain. Although, O conscript fathers, how long are we to deliver our
opinions as it may please the veterans? why are we to yield so much to their
haughtiness? why are we to make their arrogance of such importance as to choose
our generals with reference to their pleasure? But I (for I must speak, O conscript fathers, what I feel) think that we
ought not so much to regard the veterans, as to look at what the young soldiers,
the flower of Italy—at what
the new legions, most eager to effect the deliverance of their
country—at what all Italy will think of your wisdom. For there is
nothing which flourishes forever. Age succeeds age. The legions of Caesar have
flourished for a long time; but now those who are flourishing are the legions of
Pansa, and the legions of Hirtius, and the legions of the son of Caesar, and the
legions of Plancus. They surpass the veterans in number; they have the advantage
of youth; moreover, they surpass them also in authority. For they are engaged in
waging that war which is approved of by all nations. Therefore, rewards have
been promised to these latter. To the former they have been already
paid;—let them enjoy them. But let these others have those rewards
given to them which we have promised them.
For that is what I hope that the immortal gods will consider just.
And as this is the case, I give my vote for the proposition which I have made to
you, O conscript fathers, being adopted by you.
THE TWELFTH ORATION OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. CALLED ALSO THE TWELFTH PHILIPPIC.
THE ARGUMENT.
Decimus Brutus was in such distress in Mutina, that his friends began to be alarmed, fearing that,
if he fell into the hands of Antonius, he would be treated as Trebonius had
been. And, as the friends of Antonius gave out that he was now more inclined
to come to terms with the senate, a proposition was made and supported by
Pansa, to send a second embassy to him. And even Cicero at first consented
to it, and allowed himself to be nominated with Servilius and three other
senators, all of consular rank; but on more mature reflection he was
convinced that he had been guilty of a blunder, and that the object of
Antonius and his friends was only to gain time for Ventidius to join him
with his three legions. Accordingly, at the next meeting of the senate, he
delivered the following speech, retracting his former sanction of the
proposed embassy. And he spoke so strongly against it, that the measure was
abandoned, and Pansa soon afterward marched with his army to join Hirtius
and Octavius, with the intention of forcing Antonius to a battle.
Although, O conscript fathers, it seems very unbecoming for that man whose
counsels you have so often adopted in the most important affairs, to be deceived
and deluded, and to commit mistakes; yet I console myself, since I made the
mistake in company with you, and in company also with a consul of the greatest
wisdom. For when two men of consular rank had brought us hope of an honorable
peace, they appeared, as being friends and extremely intimate with Marcus
Antonius, to be aware of some weak point about him with which we were
unacquainted. His wife and children are in the house of one; the other is known
every day to send letters to, to receive letters from, and openly to favor
Antonius.
These men, then, appeared likely to have some
reason for exhorting us to peace, which they had done for some time. The consul,
too, added the weight of his exhortation; and what a consul! If we look for
prudence, one who was not easily to be deceived; if for virtue and courage, one
who would never admit of peace unless Antonius submitted and confessed himself
to be vanquished; if for greatness of mind, one who would prefer death to
slavery. You too, O conscript fathers, appeared to be induced to think not of
accepting but of imposing conditions, not so much because you were forgetful of
your most important and dignified resolutions, as because you had hopes
suggested you of a surrender on the part of Antonius, which his friends
preferred to call peace. My own hopes, and I imagine yours also, were increased
by the circumstance of my hearing that the family of Antonius was overwhelmed
with distress, and that his wife was incessantly lamenting. And in this
assembly, too, I saw that the partisans, on whose countenance my eyes are always
dwelling looked more sorrowful than usual. And
if that is not so, why on a sudden has mention been made of peace by Piso and
Calenus of all people in the world, why at this particular moment, why so
unexpectedly? Piso declares that he knows nothing, that he has not heard any
thing. Calenus declares that no news has been brought. And they make that
statement now, after they think that we are involved in a pacific embassy. What
need have we, then, of any new determination, if no new circumstances have
arisen to call for one?
We have been deceived,—we have, I say, been deceived, O conscript
fathers. It is the cause of Antonius that has been pleaded by his friends, and
not the cause of the public And I did indeed see that, though through a sort of
mist the safety of Decimus Brutus had dazzled my eyesight. But if in war
substitutes were in the habit of being given I would gladly allow myself to be
hemmed in, so long as Decimus Brutus might be released. But we were caught by this expression of Quintus Fufius;
“Shall we not listen to Antonius even if he retires from Mutina? Shall we not, even if he declares
that he will submit himself to the authority of the senate?” It seemed
harsh to say that. Thus it was that we were broken; we yielded. Does he then
retire from Mutina? “I
don't know.” Is he obeying the senate? “I think
so,” says Calenus, “but so as to preserve his own dignity at
the same time.” You then, O conscript fathers, are to make great
exertions for the express purpose of losing your own dignity, which is very
great, and of preserving that of Antonius, which neither has nor can have any
existence; and of enabling him to recover that by your conduct, which he has
lost by his own. “But, however, that
matter is not open for consideration now; an embassy has been
appointed.” But what is there which is not open for consideration to a
wise man, as long as it can be remodeled? Any man is liable to a mistake; but no
one but a downright fool will persist in error. For second thoughts, as people
say, are best. The mist which I spoke of just now is dispelled: light has
arisen: the case is plain: we see every thing, and that not by our own
acuteness, but we are warned by our friends.
You heard just now what was the statement made by a most admirable man. I found,
said he, his house, his wife, his children, all in great distress. Good men
marveled at me, my friends blamed me for having been led by the hope of peace to
undertake an embassy. And no wonder, O Publius Servilius. For by your own most
true and most weighty arguments Antonius was stripped, I do not say of all
dignity, but of even every hope of safety. Who
would not wonder if you were to go as an ambassador to him? I judge by my own
case; for with regard to myself I see how the same design as you conceived is
found fault with. And are we the only people blamed? What? did that most gallant
man speak so long and so precisely a little while ago without any reason? What
was he laboring for, except to remove from himself a groundless suspicion of
treachery? And whence did that suspicion arise? From his unexpected advocacy of
peace, which he adopted all on a sudden, being taken in by the same error that
we were.
But if an error has been committed, O
conscript fathers, owing to a groundless and fallacious hope, let us return into
the right road. The best harbor for a penitent is a change of intention.
For what, in the name of the immortal gods! what good can our embassy do to the
republic? What good, do I say? What will you say if it will even do us harm?
Will do us harm? What if it already has done us harm? Do you suppose that that
most energetic and fearless desire shown by the Roman people for recovery of
their liberty has been dampened and weakened by hearing of this embassy for
peace? What do you think the municipal towns feel? and the colonies! What do you
think will be the feelings of all Italy! Do you suppose that it will continue to glow with the same
zeal with which it burned before to extinguish this common conflagration? Do we
not suppose that those men will repent of having professed and displayed so much
hatred to Antonius, who promised us money and arms; who devoted themselves
wholly, body, heart, and soul, to the safety of the republic! How will
Capua, which at the present time
feels like a second Rome, approve of
this design of yours? That city pronounced them impious citizens, cast them out,
and kept them out. Antonius was barely saved from the hands of that city, which
made a most gallant attempt to crush him. Need
I say more? Are we not by these proceedings cutting the sinews of our own
legions; for what man can engage with ardor in a war, when the hope of peace is
suggested to him? Even that godlike and divine Martial legion will grow languid
at and be cowed by the receipt of this news, and will lose that most noble title
of Martial; their swords will fall to the ground; their weapons will drop from
their hands. For, following the senate, it will not consider itself bound to
feel more bitter hatred against Antonius than the senate.
I am ashamed for this legion, I am ashamed for the fourth legion, which,
approving of our authority with equal virtue, abandoned Antonius, not looking
upon him as their consul and general, but as an enemy and attacker of their
country. I am ashamed for that admirable army which is made up of two armies;
which has now been reviewed, and which has started for Mutina, and which, if it hears a word of
peace, that is to say, of our fear, even if it does not return, will at all
events halt. For who, when the senate recalls him and sounds a retreat, will be
eager to engage in battle?Compare St. Paul,—“For
if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the
battle?”
I Cor. 14.8.
For what can be more unreasonable than for us to pass resolutions about peace
without the knowledge of those men who wage the war! And not only without their
knowledge, but even against their will? Do you think that Aulus Hirtius, that
most illustrious consul, and that Caius Caesar, a man born by the especial
kindness of the gods for this especial crisis, whose letters, announcing their
hope of victory, I hold in my hand, are desirous of peace? They are anxious to
conquer; and they wish to obtain that most delightful and beautiful condition of
peace, as the consequence of victory, not of some agreement. What more? With
what feelings do you think that Gaul
will hear of this proceeding? For that province performs the chief part in
repelling, and managing, and supporting this war. Gaul, following the mere nod, for I need not say the command of
Decimus Brutus, has strengthened the beginning of the war with her arms, her
men, and her treasures: she has exposed the whole of her body to the cruelty of
Marcus Antonius: she is drained, laid waste, attacked with fire and sword. She
is enduring all the injuries of war with equanimity, contented as long as she
can ward off the danger of slavery. And, to
say nothing of the other parts of Gaul
(for they are all alike), the people of Patavium have excluded some men who were sent to them by
Antonius, and have driven out others, and have assisted our generals with money
and soldiers, and with what was above all things wanting, arms. The rest have
done the same; even those who formerly were of the party of Antonius, and who
were believed to have been alienated from the senate by the injuries of many
years. Men, who indeed there is no great reason to wonder at being faithful now,
after the freedom of the republic has been shared with them, when, even before
they had been admitted to those privileges, they always behaved with loyalty and
good faith.
All these men, then, who are now sanguine of victory, we are to meet with the
name of peace; that is to say, with a complete despair of victory.
What more? What if it is even absolutely impossible for there to be any real
peace at all? For what sort of peace is that in which nothing can be granted to
the man with whom one is making peace? Antonius has been invited to peace by us
by many circumstances; but he has preferred war. Ambassadors were sent. I
opposed it, indeed, but still they were sent. Commands were taken to him: he did
not obey them. He was ordered not to besiege Brutus, and to retire from before
Mutina. He attacked that town
even more vigorously. And shall we send an embassy to treat of peace to a man
who has rejected ambassadors of peace? Do we suppose that when we talk to him
face to face he will be more moderate in his demands than he was when he sent
commands to the senate! But at that time he demanded things which appeared
indeed unreasonable, but still such as it might have been possible to concede;
he had not at that time been branded by such heavy and such numerous decisions
and condemnations of yours. At present he is demanding things which we can not
by any possibility grant, unless we are willing first to confess ourselves
defeated in war.
We have pronounced that resolutions of the
senate which have been produced by him are forged. Can we now pronounce them
genuine? We have declared that laws have been carried by him by means of
violence, and in a manner contrary to the auspices, and that neither the
burgesses nor the common people are bound by them. Do you consider it possible
that those laws should be reestablished? You have judicially decided that
Antonius has embezzled seven hundred millions of sesterces of the public money.
Can he now be released from the charge of peculation? Exemptions, grants of the
freedom of the city, priesthoods, kingdoms have been sold by him. Can those
tablets again be put up which you took down by your decrees?
But if we can rescind those decrees which we have passed, can we also efface the
memory of the facts? For where will any posterity forget to whose wickedness it
was owing that we have been arrayed in these unseemly garments? Although the
blood of the centurions of the Martial legion shed at Brundusium be washed out, can the
notoriety of that inhuman act be washed out too? To pass over things which
happened in the interval, what lapse of time will ever efface the foul memorials
of his military works around Mutina,
the tokens of his wickedness, the traces of his piratical conduct?
What then, in the name of the immortal gods!
have we which we can grant in the way of concession to this polluted and impious
parricide? Are we to yield up to him the farther Gaul, and an army? This is not making peace, but only deferring
war. Indeed, it is not only prolonging the war, but even conceding the victory.
Is it not a victory for him to enter this city with his troops, on any
conditions whatever? At present we are masters of every thing by our arms; we
are of great influence from the authority of this order; numbers of desperate
citizens are absent, following their infamous leader; and still we can not bear
the countenances or support the language of those men who are left behind in the
city out of their number. What do you think will be the result when such numbers
force their way into the city at one time? when we have laid aside our arms, and
they have not laid aside theirs? Must we not be defeated for everlasting, in
consequence of our own counsels?
Place before your eyes Marcus Antonius, as a man of consular rank; add to him
Lucius, hoping to obtain the consulship; join to them all the rest, and those
too not confined to our order, who are fixing their thoughts on honors and
commands. Do not despise the Tiros, and the Numisii, or the Mustellae, or the
Seii. A peace made with those men will not be peace, but a covenant of slavery.
That was an admirable expression of Lucius Piso, a most honorable man, and one
which has been deservedly praised by you, O Pansa, not only in this order, but
also in the assembly of the people. He said, that he would depart from
Italy, and leave his household gods
and his native home, if (but might the gods avert such a disaster!) Antonius
overwhelmed the republic.
I ask, therefore, of you, O Lucius Piso, whether you would not think the republic
overwhelmed if so many men of such impiety, of such audacity, and such guilt,
were admitted into it? Can you think that men whom we could hardly bear when
they were not yet polluted with such parricidal treasons, will be able to be
borne by the city now that they are immersed in every sort of wickedness?
Believe me, we must either adopt your plan, and retire, depart, embrace a life
of indigence and wandering, or else we must offer our throats to those robbers,
and perish in our country. What has become, O Caius Pansa, of those noble
exhortations of yours, by which the senate was roused, and the Roman people
stimulated, not only hearing but also learning from you that there is nothing
more disgraceful to a Roman than slavery? Was
it for this that we assumed the garb of war, and took arms, and roused up all
the youth all over Italy, in order
that, while we had a most flourishing and numerous army, we might send
ambassadors to treat for peace? If that peace is to be received by others, why
do we not wait to be entreated for it? If our ambassadors are to beg it, what is
it that we are afraid of? Shall I make one of this embassy, or shall I be mixed
up with this design, in which, even if I should dissent from the rest of my
colleagues, the Roman people will not know it? The result will be, that if any
thing be granted or conceded, it will be my danger if Antonius commits any
offenses, since the power to commit them will seem to have been put in his hands
by me.
But even if it had been proper to entertain
any idea of peace with the piratical crew of Marcus Antonius, still I was the
last person who ought to have been selected to negotiate such a peace. I never
voted for sending ambassadors. Before the return of the last ambassadors I
ventured to say, that peace itself, even if they did bring it, ought to be
repudiated, since war would be concealed under the name of peace; I was the
chief adviser of the adoption of the garb of war; I have invariably called that
man a public enemy, when others have been calling him only an adversary; I have
always pronounced this to be a war, while others have styled it only a tumult.
Nor have I done this in the senate alone; I have always acted in the same way
before the people. Nor have I spoken against himself only, but also against the
accomplices in and agents of his crimes, whether present here, or there with
him. In short, I have at all times inveighed
against the whole family and party of Antonius. Therefore, as those impious
citizens began to congratulate one another the moment the hope of peace was
presented to them, as if they had gained the victory, so also they abused me as
unjust: they made complaints against me; they distrusted Servilius also; they
recollected that Antonius had been damaged by his avowed opinions and
propositions; they recollected that Lucius Caesar, though a brave and consistent
senator, is still his uncle; that Calenus is his agent; that Piso is his
intimate friend; they think that you yourself, O Pansa, though a most vigorous
and fearless consul, are now become more mercifully inclined. Not that it really
is so, or that it possibly can be so. But the fact of a mention of peace having
been made by you, has given rise to a suspicion in the hearts of many, that you
have changed your mind a little. The friends of Antonius are annoyed at my being
included among these persons; and we must no doubt yield to them, since we have
once begun to be liberal.
Let the ambassadors go, with all our good wishes; but let those men go at whom
Antonius may take no offense. But if you are not anxious about what he may
think, at all events, O conscript fathers, you ought to have some regard for me.
At least spare my eyes, and make some allowance for a just indignation. For with
what countenance shall I be able to behold (I do not say, the enemy of my
country, for my hatred of him on that score I feel in common with you all), but
how shall I bear to look upon that man who is my own most bitter personal enemy,
as his most furious harangues against me plainly declare him? Do you think that
I am so completely made of iron as to be able unmoved to meet him, or look at
him? who lately, when in an assembly of the people he was making presents to
those men who appeared to him the most audacious of his band of parricidal
traitors, said that he gave my property to Petissius of Urbinum, a man who, after the shipwreck of a
very splendid patrimony, was dashed against these rocks of Antonius. Shall I be able to bear the sight of Lucius
Antonius? a man from whose cruelty I could not have escaped if I had not
defended myself behind the walls and gates and by the zeal of my own municipal
town. And this same Asiatic gladiator, this plunderer of Italy, this colleague of Lenti and Nucula, when be was giving some
pieces of gold to Aquila the centurion,
said that he was giving him some of my property. For, if he had said he was
giving him some of his own, he thought that the eagle itself would not have
believed it. My eyes can not—my eyes, I say, will not bear the sight
of Saxa, or Capho, or the two praetors, or the tribune of the people, or the two
tribunes elect, or Bestia, or Trebellius, or Titus Plancus. I can not look with
equanimity on so many, and those such foul, such wicked enemies; nor is that
feeling caused by any fastidiousness of mine, but by my affection for the
republic. But I will subdue my feelings, and keep my own inclinations under
restraint. If I can not eradicate my most
just indignation, I will conceal it. What? Do you not think, O conscript
fathers, that I should have some regard for my own life? But that indeed has
never been an object of much concern to me, especially since Dolabella has acted
in such a way that death is a desirable thing, provided it come without torments
and tortures. But in your eyes and in those of the Roman people my life ought
not to appear of no consequence. For I am a man,—unless indeed I am
deceived in my estimate of myself,—who by my vigilance, and anxiety,
by the opinions which I have delivered, and by the dangers too of which I have
encountered great numbers, by reason of the most bitter hatred which all impious
men bear me, have at least (not to seem to say any thing too boastful) conducted
myself so as to be no injury to the republic.
And as this is the case, do you think that I ought to have no consideration for
my own danger?
Even here when I was in the city and at home, nevertheless many attempts were
made against me, in a place where I have not only the fidelity of my friends but
the eyes also of the entire city to guard me. What do you think will be the case
when I have gone on a journey, and that too a long one? Do you think that I
shall have no occasion to fear plots then? There are three roads to Mutina; a place which my mind longs to see,
in order that I may behold as speedily as possible that pledge of freedom of the
Roman people Decimus Brutus; in whose embrace I would willingly yield up my
parting breath, when all my actions for the last many months, and all my
opinions and propositions have resulted in the end which I proposed to myself.
There are, as I have said, three roads; the Flaminian road, along the Adriatic;
the Aurelian road, along the Mediterranean coast; the Midland road, which is
called the Cassian.
Now, take notice, I beg of you, whether my suspicion of danger to myself is at
variance with a reasonable conjecture. The Cassian road goes through Etruria. Do
we not know then, O Pansa, over what places the authority of Lenti Caesennius, as a septemvir, prevails at
present? He certainly is not on our side either in mind or body. But if he is at
home or not far from home, he is certainly in Etruria, that is, in my road. Who
then will undertake to me that Lenti will be content with exacting one life
alone? Tell me besides, O Pansa, where Ventidius is,—a man to whom I
have always been friendly before he became so openly an enemy to the republic
and to all good men. I may avoid the Cassian road and take the Flaminian. What
if, as it is said, Ventidius has arrived at Ancona? Shall I be able in that case to reach Ariminum in safety? The Aurelian road
remains; and here too I shall find a protector; for on that road are the
possessions of Publius Clodius. His whole household will come out to meet me;
and will invite me to partake of their hospitality, on account of my notorious
intimacy with their master?
Shall I then trust myself to those roads—I who lately, on the day of
the feast of Terminus, did not dare even to go into the suburbs and return by
the same road on the same day? I can scarcely defend myself within the walls of
my own house without the protection of my friends; therefore I remain in the
city; and if I am allowed to do so I will remain. This is my proper place, this
is my beat, this is my post as a sentinel, this is my station as a defender of
the city. Let others occupy camps and kingdoms, and engage in the conduct of the
war; let them show the active hatred of the enemy; we, as we say, and as we have
always hitherto done, will, in common with you, defend the city and the affairs
of the city. Nor do I shrink from this office; although I see the Roman people
shrink from it for me. No one is less timid than I am; no one more cautious. The
facts speak for themselves. This is the twentieth year that I have been a mark
for the attempts of all wicked men; therefore, they have paid to the republic
(not to say to me) the penalty of their wickedness. As yet the republic has
preserved me in safety for itself. I am almost afraid to say what I am going to
say; for I know that any accident may happen to a man; but still, when I was
once hemmed in by the united force of many most influential men, I yielded
voluntarily, and fell in such a manner as to be able to rise again in the most
honorable manner.
Can I, then, appear as cautious and as prudent as I ought to be if I commit
myself to a journey so full of enemies and dangers to me? Those men who are
concerned in the government of the republic ought at their death to leave behind
them glory, and not reproaches for their fault, or grounds for blaming their
folly. What good man is there who does not mourn for the death of Trebonius? Who
is there who does not grieve for the loss of such a citizen and such a man? But
there are men who say (hastily indeed, but still they do say so), that he
deserves to be grieved for less because he did not take precautions against a
desperately wicked man. In truth, a man who professes to be himself a defender
of many men, wise men say, ought in the first place to show himself able to
protect his own life. I say, that when one is fenced round by the laws and by
the fear of justice, a man is not bound to be afraid of everything, or to take
precautions against all imaginable designs; for who would dare to attack a man
in daylight, on a military road, or a man who was well attended, or an
illustrious man? But these considerations
have no bearing on the present time, nor in my case; for not only would a man
who offered violence to me have no fear of punishment, but he would even hope to
obtain glory and rewards from those bands of robbers,
These dangers. I can guard against in the city; it is easy for me to look around
and see where I am going out from, whither I am going, what there is on my right
hand, and on my left. Shall I be able to do the same on the roads of the
Apennines? in which, even if there
should be no ambush, as there easily may be, still my mind will be kept in such
a state of anxiety as not to be able to attend to the duties of an embassy. But
suppose I have escaped all plots against me, and have passed over the Apennines; still I have to encounter a meeting
and conference with Antonius. What place am I to select? If it is outside the
camp, the rest may look to themselves,—I think that death would come
upon me instantly. I know the frenzy of the man; I know his unbridled violence.
The ferocity of his manners and the savageness of his nature is not usually
softened even by wine. Then, inflamed by anger and insanity, with his brother
Lucius, that foulest of beasts, at his side, he will never keep his sacrilegious
and impious hands from me. I can recollect
conferences with most bitter enemies, and with citizens in a state of the most
bitter disagreement.
Cnaeus Pompeius, the son of Sextus, being consul, in my presence, when I was
serving my first campaign in his army, had a conference with Publius Vettius
Scato, the general of the Marsians, between the camps. And I recollect that
Sextus Pompeius, the brother of the consul, a very learned and wise man, came
thither from Rome to the conference.
And when Scato had saluted him, “What,” said he,
“am I to call you?”—“Call me,”
said he, “one who is by inclination a friend, by necessity an
enemy.” That conference was conducted with fairness: there was no
fear, no suspicion, even their mutual hatred was not great, for the allies were
not seeking to take our city from us, but to be themselves admitted to share the
privileges of it. Sulla and Scipio, one attended by the flower of the nobility,
the other by the allies, had a conference between Cales and Teanum, respecting the authority of the senate, the
suffrages of the people, and the privileges of citizenship; and agreed upon
conditions and stipulations. Good faith was not strictly observed at that
conference; but still there was no violence used, and no danger incurred.
But can we be equally safe among Antonius's piratical crew? We can not; or, even
if the rest can, I do not believe that I can.
What will be the case if we are not to confer out of the camp? What camp is to
be chosen for the conference? He will never come into our camp;—much
less will we go to his. It follows, then, that all demands must be received and
sent to and fro by means of letters. We then shall be in our respective camps.
On all his demands I shall have but one opinion; and when I have stated it here,
in your hearing, you may think that I have gone, and that I have come back
again.—I shall have finished my embassy. As far as my sentiments can
prevail, I shall refer every demand which Antonius makes to the senate. For,
indeed, we have no power to do otherwise; nor have we received any commission
from this assembly, such as, when a war is terminated, is usually, in accordance
with the precedents of your ancestors, entrusted to the ambassadors. Nor, in
fact, have we received any particular commission from the senate at all.
And, as I shall pursue this line of conduct in the council, where some, as I
imagine, will oppose it, have I not reason to fear that the ignorant mob may
think that peace is delayed by my means?
Suppose now that the new legions do not disapprove of my resolution. For I am
quite sure that the Martial legion and the fourth legion will not approve of any
thing which is contrary to dignity and honor. What then? have we no regard for
the opinion of the veterans? For even they themselves do not wish to be feared
by us.—Still, how will they receive my severity? For they have heard
many false statements concerning me; wicked men have circulated among them many
calumnies against me. Their advantage indeed, as you all are most perfect
witnesses of, I have always promoted by my opinion, by my authority, and by my
language. But they believe wicked men, they believe seditious men, they believe
their own party. They are, indeed, brave men; but by reason of their exploits
which they have performed in the cause of the freedom of the Roman people and of
the safety of the republic, they are too ferocious and too much inclined to
bring all our counsels under the sway of their own violence. Their deliberate reflection I am not afraid of, but I
confess I dread their impetuosity.
If I escape all these great dangers too, do you think my return will be
completely safe? For when I have, according to my usual custom, defended your
authority, and have proved my good faith toward the republic, and my firmness;
then I shall have to fear, not those men alone who hate me, but those also who
envy me. Let my life then be preserved for the republic, let it be kept for the
service of my country as long as my dignity or nature will permit; and let death
either be the necessity of fate, or, if it must be encountered earlier, let it
be encountered with glory.
This being the case, although the republic has no need (to say the least of it)
of this embassy, still if it be possible for me to go on it in safety, I am
willing to go. Altogether, O conscript fathers, I shall regulate the whole of my
conduct in this affair, not by any consideration of my own danger, but by the
advantage of the republic. And, as I have plenty of time, I think that it
behooves me to deliberate upon that over and over again, and to adopt that line
of conduct which I shall judge to be most beneficial to the republic.
THE THIRTEENTH ORATION OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. CALLED ALSO THE THIRTEENTH PHILIPPIC.
THE ARGUMENT.
Antonius wrote a long letter to Hirtius and to Octavius to persuade them that
they were acting against their true interests and dignity in combining with
the slayers of Julius Caesar against him. But they, instead of answering
this letter, sent it to Cicero at Rome. At the same time Lepidus wrote a public letter to the
senate to exhort them to measures of peace; and to a reconciliation with
Antonius and took no notice of the public honours which had been decreed to
him in compliance with Cicero's motion. The senate was much displeased at
this. They agreed, however, to a proposal of Servilius—to thank
Lepidus for his love of peace, but to desire him to leave that to them, as
there could be no peace till Antonius had laid down his arms. But Antonius's
friends were encouraged by Lepidus's letter to renew their suggestions of a
treaty; which caused Cicero to deliver the following speech to the senate
for the purpose of counteracting the influence of their arguments.
From the first beginning, O conscript fathers, of this war which we have
undertaken against those impious and wicked citizens, I have been afraid lest
the insidious proposals of peace might damp our zeal for the recovery of our
liberty. For the name of peace is sweet; and the thing itself not only pleasant
but salutary. For a man seems to have no affection either for the private
hearths of the citizens, nor for the public laws, nor for the rights of freedom,
who is delighted with discord and the slaughter of his fellow-citizens, and with
civil war; and such a man I think ought to be erased from the catalogue of men,
and exterminated from all human society. Therefore, if Sulla, or Marius, or both
of them, or Octavius, or Cinna, or Sulla for the second time, or the other
Marius and Carbo, or if any one else has ever wished for civil war, I think that
man a citizen born for the detestation of the republic. For why should I speak of the last man who stirred up such
a war; a man whose acts, indeed, we defend, while we admit that the author of
them was deservedly slain? Nothing, then, is more infamous than such a citizen
or such a man; if indeed he deserves to he considered either a citizen or a man,
who is desirous of civil war.
But the first thing that we have to consider, O conscript fathers, is whether
peace can exist with all men, or whether there be any war incapable of
reconciliation, in which any agreement of peace is only a covenant of slavery.
Whether Sulla was making peace with Scipio, or whether he was only pretending to
do so, there was no reason to despair, if an agreement had been come to, that
the city might have been in a tolerable state. If Cinna had been willing to
agree with Octavius, the safety of the citizens might still have had an
existence in the republic. In the last war, if Pompeius had relaxed somewhat of
his dignified firmness, and Caesar a good deal of his ambition, we might have
had both a lasting peace, and some considerable remainder of the republic.
But what is the state of things now? Is it possible for there to be peace with
Antonius? with Censorinus, and Ventidius, and Trebellius, and Bestia, and
Nucula, and Munatius, and Lento, and Saxa? I have just mentioned a few names as
a specimen; you yourselves see the countless numbers and savage nature of the
rest of the host,. Add, besides the wrecks of
Caesar's party, the Barbae Cassii, the Barbatii, the Pollios; add the companions
and fellow-gamblers of Antonius, Eutrapelus, and Mela, and Caelius, and Pontius,
and Crassicius, and Tiro, and Mustela, and Petissius; I say nothing of the main
body, I am only naming the leaders. To these are added the legionaries of the
Alauda and the rest of the veterans, the seminary of the judges of the third
decury; who, having exhausted their own estates, and squandered all the fruits
of Caesar's kindness, have now set their hearts on our fortunes. Oh that trustworthy right hand of Antonius, with
which he has murdered many citizens! Oh that regularly ratified and solemn
treaty which we made with the Antonii! Surely if Marcus shall attempt to violate
it, the conscientious piety of Lucius will call him back from such wickedness.
If there is any room allowed these men in this city, there will be no room for
the city itself. Place before your eyes, O conscript fathers, the countenances
of those men, and especially the countenances of the Antonii. Mark their gait,
their look, their face, their arrogance; mark those friends of theirs who walk
by their side, who follow them, who precede them. What breath reeking of wine,
what insolence, what threatening language do you not think there will be there?
Unless, indeed, the mere fact of peace is to soften, them, and unless you expect
that, especially when they come into this assembly, they will salute every one
of us kindly, and address us courteously.
Do you not recollect, in the name of the immortal gods! what resolutions you have
given utterance to against those men? You have repealed the acts of Marcus
Antonius; you have taken down his laws; you have voted that they were carried by
violence, and with a disregard of the auspices; you have called out the levies
throughout all Italy; you have
pronounced that colleague and ally of all wickedness a public enemy. What peace
can there be with this man? Even if he were a foreign enemy, still, after such
actions as have taken place, it would be scarcely possible, by any means
whatever, to have peace. Though seas and mountains, and vast regions lay between
you, still you would hate such a man without seeing him. But these men will
stick to your eyes, and when they can, to your very throats; for what fences
will be strong enough for us to restrain savage beasts?—Oh, but the
result of war is uncertain. It is at all events in the power of brave men, such
as you ought to be, to display your valour (for certainly brave men can do
that), and not to fear the caprice of fortune.
But since it is not only courage but wisdom also which is expected from this
order (although these qualities appear scarcely possible to be separated, still
let us separate them here), courage bids us fight, inflames our just hatred,
urges us to the conflict, summons us to danger. What says wisdom? She uses more
cautious counsels, she is provident for the future, she is in every respect more
on the defensive. What then does she think? for we must obey her, and we are
bound to consider that the best thing which is arranged in the most prudent
manner. If she enjoins me to think nothing of more consequence than my life, not
to fight at the risk of my life, but to avoid all danger, I will then ask her
whether I am also to become a slave when I have obeyed all these injunction? If
she says, yes; I for one will not listen to that Wisdom, however learned she may
be; but if the answer is, Preserve your life and your safety, Preserve your
fortune, “Preserve your estate, still, however, considering all these
things of less value than liberty; therefore enjoy these things if you can do so
consistently with the freedom of the republic, and do not abandon liberty for
them, but sacrifice them for liberty, as proofs of the injury you have
sustained;”—then I shall think that I really am listening to
the voice of Wisdom, and I will obey her as a god. Therefore, if when we have received those men we can still
be free, let us subdue our hatred to them, and endure peace; but if there can be
no tranquillity while those men are in safety, then let us rejoice that an
opportunity of fighting them is put in our power. For so, either (these men
being conquered) we shall enjoy the republic victorious, or, if we be defeated,
(but may Jupiter avert that disaster),
we shall live, if not with an actual breath, at all events in the renown of our
valor.
But Marcus Lepidus, having been a second time styled Imperator, Pontifex Maximus, a man
who deserved excellently well of the republic in the last civil war, exhorts us
to peace. No one, O conscript fathers, has greater weight with me than Marcus
Lepidus, both on account of his personal virtues, and by reason of the dignity
of his family. There are also private reasons which influence me, such as great
services he has done me, and some kindnesses which I have done him. But the
greatest of his services I consider to be his being of such a disposition as he
is toward the republic, which has at all times been dearer to me than my life.
For when by his influence he inclined
Magnus Pompeius, a most admirable young man, the son of one of the greatest of
men, to peace, and without arms released the republic from imminent danger of
civil war, by so doing he laid me under as great obligations as it was in the
power of any man to do. Therefore I proposed to decree to him the most ample
honors that were in my power, in which you agreed with me; nor have I ceased
both to think and speak in the highest terms of him. The republic has Marcus
Lepidus bound to it by many pledges. He is a man of the highest rank, of the
greatest honors; he has the most honorable priesthood, and has received
numberless distinctions in the city. There are monuments of himself, and of his
brother, and of his ancestors; he has a most excellent wife, children such as
any man might desire, an ample family estate, untainted with the blood of his
fellow-citizens. No citizen has been injured by him; many have been delivered
from misery by his kindness and pity. Such a man and such a citizen may indeed
err in his opinion, but it is quite impossible for him in inclination to be
unfriendly to the republic.
Marcus Lepidus is desirous of peace. He does well especially if he can make such
a peace as he made lately, owing to which the republic will behold the son of
Cnaeus Pompeius, and will receive him in her bosom and embrace; and will think,
that not he alone, but that she also is restored to herself with him. This was
the reason why you decreed to him a statue in the rostra with an honorable
inscription, and why you voted him a triumph in his absence. For although he had
performed great exploits in war, and such as well deserved a triumph, still for
that he might not have had that given to him which was not given to Lucius
Aemilius, nor to Aemilianus Scipio, nor to the former Africanus, nor to Marius,
nor to Pompeius, who had the conduct of greater wars than he had, but because he
had put an end to a civil war in perfect silence, the first moment that it was
in his power, on that account you conferred on him the greatest honors.
Do you think, then, O Marcus Lepidus, that the Antonii will be to the republic
such citizens as she will find Pompeius? In the one there is modesty gravity,
moderation, integrity; in them (and when I speak of them I do not mean to omit
one of that band of pirates) there is lust and wickedness and savage audacity
capable of every crime I entreat of you, O conscript fathers which of you fails
to see this which Fortune herself, who is called blind, sees? For, saving the
acts of Caesar, which we maintain for the sake of harmony, his own house will be
open to Pompeius and he will redeem it for the same sum for which Antonius
bought it. Yes, I say the son of Cnaeus Pompeius will buy back his house. O
melancholy circumstance! But these things have been already lamented long and
bitterly enough. You have voted a sum of money to Cnaeus Pompeius, equal to that
which his conquering enemy had appropriated to himself of his father's property
in the distribution of his booty. But I claim
permission to manage this distribution myself, as due to my connection and
intimacy with his father. He will buy back the villas, the houses, and some of
the estates in the city which Antonius is in possession of. For, as for the
silver plate, the garments, the furniture, and the wine which that glutton has
made away with, those things he will lose without forfeiting his equanimity. The
Alban and Firmian villas he will
recover from Dolabella; the Tusculan villa he will also recover from Antonius.
And these Ansers who are joining in the attack on Mutina and in the blockade of Decimus
Brutus will be driven from his Falernian villa. There are many others, perhaps,
who will be made to disgorge their plunder, but their names escape my memory. I
say, too, that those men who are not in the number of our enemies, will be made
to restore the possessions of Pompeius to his son for the price at which they
bought them. It was the act of a sufficiently
rash man, not to say an audacious one, to touch a single particle of that
property; but who will have the face to endeavor to retain it, when its most
illustrious owner is restored to his country? Will not that man restore his
plunder, who, enfolding the patrimony of his master in his embrace, clinging to
the treasure like a dragon, the slave of Pompeius, the freedman of Caesar, has
seized upon his estates in the Lucanian district? And as for those seven hundred
millions of sesterces which you, O conscript fathers, promised to the young man,
they will be recovered in such a manner that the son of Cnaeus Pompeius will
appear to have been established by you in his patrimony. This is what the senate
must do; the Roman people will do the rest with respect to that family which was
at one time one of the most honorable it ever saw. In the first place, it will
invest him with his father's honor as an augur, for which rank I will nominate
him and promote his election, in order that I may restore to the son what I
received from the father. Which of these men will the Roman people most
willingly sanction as the augur of the all powerful and all great Jupiter, whose interpreters and messengers we
have been appointed,—Pompeius or Antonius? It seems indeed, to me,
that Fortune has managed this by the divine aid of the immortal gods, that,
leaving the acts of Caesar firmly ratified, the son of Cnaeus Pompeius might
still be able to recover the dignities and fortunes of his father.
And I think, O conscript fathers, that we ought not to pass over that fact either
in silence,—that those illustrious men who are acting as ambassadors,
Lucius Paullus, Quintus Thermus, and Caius Fannius, whose inclinations toward
the republic you are thoroughly acquainted with, and also with the constancy and
firmness of that favorable inclination, report that they turned aside to
Marseilles for the purpose of
conferring with Pompeius, and that they found him in a disposition very much
inclined to go with his troops to Mutina, if he had not been afraid of offending the minds of the
veterans. But he is a true son of that father who did quite as many things
wisely as he did bravely. Therefore you perceive that his courage was quite
ready, and that prudence was not wanting to him.
And this, too, is what Marcus Lepidus ought to take care of,—not to
appear to act in any respect with more arrogance than suits his character.
For if he alarms us with his army he is
forgetting that that army belongs to the senate, and to the Roman people, and to
the whole republic, not to himself. “But he has the power to use it as
if it were his own.” What then? Does it become virtuous men to do
every thing which it is in their power to do? Suppose it to be a base thing?
Suppose it to be a mischievous thing? Suppose it be absolutely unlawful to do
it?
But what can be more base, or more shameful, or more utterly unbecoming, than to
lead an army against the senate, against one's fellow-citizens, against one's
country? Or what can deserve greater blame than doing that which is unlawful.
But it is not lawful for any one to lead an army against his country? if indeed
we say that that is lawful which is permitted by the laws or by the usages and
established principles of our ancestors. For it does not follow that whatever a
man has power to do is lawful for him to do; nor, if he is not hindered, is he
on that account permitted to do so. For to you, O Lepidus, as to your ancestors,
your country has given an army to be employed in her cause. With this army you
are to repel the enemy, you are to extend the boundaries of the empire, you are
to obey the senate and people of Rome,
if by any chance they direct you to some other object.
If these are your thoughts, then are you really Marcus Lepidus the Pontifex
Maximus, the great-grandson of Marcus Lepidus, Pontifex Maximus, if you judge
that every thing is lawful for men to do that they have power to do, then beware
lest you seem to prefer acting on precedents set by those who have no connection
with you, and these, too, modern precedents, to being guided by the ancient
examples in your own family. But if you interpose your authority without having
recourse to arms, in that case indeed I praise you more; but beware lest this
thing itself be quite unnecessary. For although there is all the authority in
you that there ought to be in a man of the highest rank, still the senate itself
does not despise itself; nor was it ever more wise, more firm, more courageous.
We are all hurried on with the most eager zeal to recover our freedom. Such a
general ardor on the part of the senate and people of Rome can not be extinguished by the authority
of any one: we hate a man who would extinguish it; we are angry with him, and
resist him; our arms can not be wrested from our hands; we are deaf to all
signals for retreat, to all recall from the combat. We hope for the happiest
success; we will prefer enduring the bitterest disaster to being slaves.
Caesar has collected an invincible army.
Two perfectly brave consuls are present with their forces. The various and
considerable reinforcements of Lucius Plancus, consul elect, are not wanting.
The contest is for the safety of Decimus Brutus. One furious gladiator, with a
band of most infamous robbers, is waging war against his country, against our
household gods, against our altars and our hearths, against four consuls. Shall
we yield to him? Shall we listen to the conditions which he proposes? Shall we
believe it possible for peace to be made with him?
But there is danger of our being overwhelmed. I have no fear that the man who can
not enjoy his own most abundant fortunes, unless all the good men are saved,
will betray his own safety. It is nature which first makes good citizens, and
then fortune assists them. For it is for the advantage of all good men that the
republic should be safe; but that advantage appears more clearly in the case of
those who are fortunate. Who is mere
fortunate than Lentulus, as I said before, and who is more sensible! The Roman
people saw his sorrow and his tears at the Lupercal festival. They saw how
miserable, how overwhelmed he was when Antonius placed a diadem on Caesar's head
and preferred being his slave to being his colleague. And even if he had been
able to abstain from his other crimes and wickednesses, still on account of that
one single action I should think him worthy of all punishment. For even if he
himself was calculated to be a slave, why should he impose a master on us? And
if his childhood had borne the lusts of those men who were tyrants over him, was
he on that account to prepare a master and a tyrant to lord it over our
children! Therefore since that man was slain, he himself has behaved to all
others in the same manner as he wished him to behave to us.
For in what country of barbarians was there ever so foul and cruel a tyrant as
Antonius, escorted by the arms of barbarians, has proved in this city? When
Caesar was exercising the supreme power, we used to come into the senate, if not
with freedom, at all events with safety. But under this arch-pirate (for why
should I say tyrant?) these benches were occupied by Itureans. On a sudden he
hastened to Brundusium, in order
to come against this city from thence with a regular army. He deluged Suessa, a
most beautiful town, now of municipal citizens, formerly of most honorable
colonists, with the blood of the bravest soldiers. At Brundusium he massacred the chosen
centurions of the Martial legion in the lap of his wife, who was not only most
avaricious but also most cruel. After that with what fury, with what eagerness
did he hurry on to the city, that is to say, to the slaughter of every virtuous
man! But at that time the immortal gods brought to us a protector whom we had
never seen nor expected.
For the incredible and godlike virtue of Caesar checked the cruel and frantic
onslaught of that robber, whom then that madman believed that he was injuring
with his edicts, ignorant that all the charges which he was falsely alleging
against that most righteous young man, were all very appropriate to the
recollections of his own childhood. He entered the city, with what an escort, or
rather with what a troop! when on the right hand and on the left, amid the
groans of the Roman people, he was threatening the owners of property, taking
notes of the houses, and openly promising to divide the city among his
followers. He returned to his soldiers; then came that mischievous assembly at
Tibur. From thence he hurried to
the city; the senate was convened at the Capitol. A decree with the authority of
the consuls was prepared for proscribing the young man; when all on a sudden
(for he was aware that the Martial legion had encamped at Alba) news is brought
him of the proceedings of the fourth legion.
Alarmed at that, he abandoned his intention of submitting a motion to the senate
respecting Caesar. He departed not by the regular roads, but by the by-lanes, in
the robe of a general; and on that very self-same day he trumped up a countless
number of resolutions of the senate; all of which he published even before they
were drawn up. From thence it was not a
journey, but a race and flight into Gaul. He thought that Caesar was pursuing him with the fourth
legion, with the Martial legion, with the veterans, whose very name he could not
endure for fright. Then, as he was making his way into Gaul, Decimus Brutus opposed him; who
preferred being himself surrounded by the waves of the whole war, to allowing
him either to retreat or advance; and who put Mutina on him as a sort of bridle to his exultation. And when
he had blockaded that city with his works and fortifications, and when the
dignity of a most flourishing colony, and the majesty of a consul elect, were
both insufficient to deter him from his parricidal treason, then (I call you,
and the Roman people, and all the gods who preside over this city, to witness),
against my will, and in spite of my resistance and remonstrance, three
ambassadors of consular rank were sent to that robber, to that leader of
gladiators, Marcus Antonius.
Who ever was such a barbarian? Who was ever so savage? so brutal? He would not
listen to them; he gave them no answer; and he not only despised and showed that
he considered of no importance those men who were with him, but still more us,
by whom these men had been sent. And afterward what wickedness, or what crime
was there which that traitor abstained from? He blockaded your colonists, and
the army of the Roman people, and your general, and your consul elect. He lays
waste the lands of a nation of most excellent citizens. Like a most inhuman
enemy he threatens all virtuous men with crosses and tortures.
Now what peace, O Marcus Lepidus, can exist with this man? when it does not seem
that there is even any punishment which the Roman people can think adequate to
his crimes?
But if any one has hitherto been able to doubt the fact, that there can be
nothing whatever in common between this order and the Roman people and that most
detestable beast, let him at least cease to entertain such a doubt, when he
becomes acquainted with this letter which I have just received, it having been
sent to me by Hirtius the consul. While I read it, and while I briefly discuss
each paragraph, I beg, O conscript fathers, that you will listen to me most
attentively, as you have hitherto done.
“Antonius to Hirtius and
Caesar.”
He does not call himself imperator, nor Hirtius
consul, nor Caesar propraetor. This is cunningly done enough. He preferred
laying aside a title to which he had no right himself, to giving them their
proper style.
“When I heard of the death of Caius Trebonius,
I was not more rejoiced than grieved.”
Take notice why he says he rejoiced, why he says that he was grieved; and then
you will be more easily able to decide the question of peace.
“It was a matter of proper rejoicing that a
wicked man had paid the penalty due to the bones and ashes of a most
illustrious man, and that the divine power of the gods had shown itself
before the end of the current year, by showing the chastisement of that
parricide already inflicted in some cases, and impending in
others.”
O you Spartacus! for what name is more fit for you? you whose abominable
wickedness is such as to make even Catiline seem tolerable. Have you dared to
write that it is a matter of rejoicing that Trebonius has suffered punishment?
that Trebonius was wicked? What was his crime, except that on the ides of March
he withdrew you from the destruction which you had deserved? Come; you rejoice at this; let us see what it is that
excites your indignation.
“That Dolabella should at this time have been
pronounced a public enemy because he has slain an assassin; and that the son
of a buffoon should appear dearer to the Roman people than Caius Caesar, the
father of his country, are circumstances to be lamented.”
Why should you be sad because Dolabella has been pronounced a public enemy? Why?
Are you not aware that you yourself—by the fact of an enlistment
having taken place all over Italy, and
of the consuls being sent forth to war, and of Caesar having received great
honors, and of the garb of war having been assumed—have also been
pronounced an enemy? And what reason is there, O you wicked man, for lamenting
that Dolabella has been declared an enemy by the senate? a body which you indeed
think of no consequence at all; but you make it your main object in waging war
utterly to destroy the senate, and to make all the rest of those who are either
virtuous or wealthy follow the fate of the highest order of all. But he calls
him the son of a buffoon. As if that noble Roman knight the father of Trebonius
were unknown to us. And does he venture to look down on any one because of the
meanness of his birth, when he has himself children by Fadia?
“But it is the bitterest thing of all that
you, O Aulus. Hirtius, who have been distinguished by Caesar's kindness, and
who have been left by him in a condition which you yourself marvel at. ”
I can not indeed deny that Aulus Hirtius was distinguished by Caesar, but such
distinctions are only of value when conferred on virtue and industry. But you,
who can not deny that you also were distinguished by Caesar, what would you have
been if he had not showered so many kindnesses on you? Where would your own good
qualities have borne you? Where would your birth have conducted you? You would
have spent the whole period of your manhood in brothels, and cook-shops and in
gambling and drinking, as you used to do when you were always burying your
brains and your beard in the laps of actresses.
“And you too, O boy—”
He calls him a boy whom he has not only experienced and shall again experience to
be a man, but one of the bravest of men. It is indeed the name appropriate to
his age; but he is the last man in the world who ought to use it, when it is his
own madness that has opened to this boy the path to glory.
“You who owe every thing to his
name—”
He does indeed owe every thing, and nobly is he paying it. For if he was the father of his country, as you call him (I
will see hereafter what my opinion of that matter is, why is not this youth
still more truly our father, to whom it certainly is owing that we are now
enjoying life, saved out of your most guilty hands?
“Are taking pains to have Dolabella legally
condemned.”
A base action, truly! by which the authority of this most honorable order is
defended against the insanity of a most in' human gladiator.
“And to effect the release of this poisoner
from blockade.”
Do you dare to call that man a poisoner who
has found a remedy against your own poisoning tricks? and whom you are besieging
in such a manner, O you new Hannibal (or if there was ever any abler general
than he), as to blockade yourself, and to be unable to extricate yourself from
your present position, should you be ever so desirous to do so? Suppose you
retreat; they will all pursue you from all sides. Suppose you stay where you
are; you will be caught. You are very right, certainly, to call him a poisoner,
by whom you see that your present disastrous condition has been brought about.
“In order that Cassius and Brutus may become
as powerful as possible.”
Would you suppose that he is speaking of
Censorinus, or of Ventidius, or of the Antonii themselves? But why should they
be unwilling that those men should become powerful, who are not only most
excellent and nobly born men, but who are also united with them in the defense
of the republic?
“In fact, you look upon the existing
circumstances as you did on the former ones.”
What can he mean?
“You used to call the camp of Pompeius the
senate.”
Should we rather call your camp the senate? In which you are the only man of
consular rank, you whose whole consulship is effaced from every monument and
register; and two praetors, who are afraid that they will lose something by
us,—a groundless fear. For we are maintaining all the grants made by
Caesar; and men of praetorian rank, Philadelphus Annius, and that innocent
Gallius; and men of aedilitian rank, he on whom I have spent so much of my lungs
and voice, Bestia, and that patron of good faith and cheater of his creditors,
Trebellius, and that bankrupt and ruined man Quintus Caelius, and that support
of the friends of Antonius Cotyla Varius, whom Antonius for his amusement caused
at a banquet to be flogged with thongs by the public slaves: Men of septemviral
rank, Lento and Nucula, and then that delight and darling of the Roman people,
Lucius Antonius. And for tribunes, first of all two tribunes elect, Tullus
Hostilius, who was so full of his privileges as to write up his name on the gate
of Rome; and who, when he found himself
unable to betray his general, deserted him. The other tribune elect is a man of
the name of Viscius; I know nothing about him; but I hear that he is (as they
say) a bold robber; who, however, they say was once a bathing-man at Pisaurum, and a very good hand at mixing the
water. Then there are others too, of
tribunitian rank: in the first place, Titus Plancus; a man who, if he had had
any affection for the senate, would never have burned the senate-house. Having
been condemned for which wickedness, he returned to that city by force of arms
from which he was driven by the power of the law. But, however, this is a case
common to him and to many others who are very unlike him. But this is quite true
which men are in the habit of saying of this. Plancus in a proverbial way, that
it is quite impossible for him to die unless his legs are broken.That is, without being crucified as a slave. They are
broken, and still he lives. But this, like many others, is a service that has
been done us by Aquila.
There is also in that camp Decius, descended, as I believe, from the great Decius
Mus; accordingly he gainedThe Latin here is Itaque Caesaris munera rosit,—playing on
the name mus, mouse; but
Orellius thinks the whole passage corrupt, and indeed there is evident
corruption in the text here in many places. the gifts of Caesar. And
so after a long interval the recollection of the Decii is renewed by this
illustrious man. And how can I pass over Saxa Decidius, a fellow imported from
the most distant nations, in order that we might see that man tribune of the
people whom we had never beheld as a citizen?
There is also one of the Sasernae; but all of them have such a resemblance to
one another, that I may make a mistake as to their first names. Nor must I omit
Exitius, the brother of Philadelphus the quaestor; lest, if I were to be silent
about that most illustrious young man, I should seem to be envying Antonius.
There is also a gentleman of the name of Asinius, a voluntary senator, having
been elected by himself. He saw the senate-house open after the death of Caesar,
he changed his shoes, and in a moment became a conscript father. Sextus Albedius
I do not know, but still I have not fallen in with any one so fond of
evil-speaking, as to deny that he is worthy of a place in the senate of
Antonius.
I dare say that I have passed over some names; but still I could not refrain from
mentioning those who did occur to me. Relying then on this senate, he looks down
on the senate which supported Pompeius, in which ten of us were men of consular
rank; and if they were all alive now this war would never have arisen at all.
Audacity would have succumbed to authority.
But what great protection there would have been in the rest may be understood
from this, that I, when left alone of all that band, with your assistance
crushed and broke the audacity of that triumphant robber.
But if Fortune had not taken from us not only Servius Sulpicius, and before him,
his colleague Marcus Marcellus,—what citizens! What men! If the
republic had been able to retain the two consuls, men most devoted to their
country, who were driven together out of Italy; and Lucius Afranius, that consummate general; and
Publius Lentulus, a citizen who displayed his extraordinary virtue on other
occasions, and especially in the securing my safe return; and Bibulus, whose
constant and firm attachment to the republic has at all times been deservedly
praised; and Lucius Domitius, that most excellent citizen; and Appius Claudius,
a man equally distinguished for nobleness of birth and for attachment to the
state; and Publius Scipio, a most illustrious man, closely resembling his
ancestors. Certainly with these men of consular rank,He
means Lucius Aemilius Paullus, and Caius Claudius Marcellus, who were
consuls the year after Servius Sulpicius and Marcus Claudius Marcellus,
A.U.C. 704. the senate which supported Pompeius was not to be
despised.
Which, then, was more just, which was more
advantageous for the republic, that Cnaeus Pompeius, or that Antonius the
brother who bought all Pompeius's property, should live? And then what men of
praetorian rank were with us! the chief of whom was Marcus Cato, being indeed
the chief man of any nation in the world for virtue. Why need I speak of the
other most illustrious men? you know them all. I am more afraid lest you should
think me tedious for enumerating so many, than ungrateful for passing over any
one. And what men of aedilitian rank! and of tribunitian rank! and of
quaestorian rank! Why need I make a long story of it? so great was the dignity
of the senators of our party, so great too were their numbers, that those men
have need of some very valid excuse who did not join that camp. Now listen to
the rest of the letter.
“You have the defeated Cicero for your
general.”
I am the more glad to hear that word “general,” because he
certainly uses it against his will; for as for his saying
“defeated,” I do not mind that; for it is my fate that I can
neither be victorious nor defeated without the republic being so at the same
time.
“You are fortifying Macedonia with armies.”
Yes, indeed, and we have wrested one from your brother, who does not in the least
degenerate from you.
“You have entrusted Africa to Varus, who has been twice taken
prisoner.”
Here he thinks that he is making out a case against his own brother Lucius.
“You have sent Capius into Syria.”
Do you not see then, O Antonius, that the whole would is open to our party, but
that you have no spot, out of your own fortifications, where you can set your
foot?
“You have allowed Casca to discharge the office
of tribune.”
What then? Were we to remove a man, as if he had
been MarallusThese two were tribunes of the people, who had
been dispossessed of their offices by Julius Caesar. or Caesetius, to
whom we own it, that this and many other things like this can never happen for
the future? “You have taken away from the
Luperci the revenues which Julius Caesar assigned to them.”
Does he dare to make mention of the Luperci? Does her not shudder at the
recollection of that day on which, smelling of wine, reeking with perfumes, and
naked, he dared to exhort the indignant Roman people to embrace slavery?
“You, by a resolution of the senate, have
removed the colonies of the veterans which had been legally
settled.”
Have we removed them, or have we rather ratified a law which was passed in the
comitia centuriata? See, rather, whether it is
not you who have ruined these veterans (those at least who are ruined), and
settled them in a place from which they themselves now feel that they shall
never he able to make their escape.
“You are promising to restore to the people of
Marseilles what has been taken
from them by the laws of war.”
I am not going to discuss the laws of war. It is a discussion far more easy to
begin than necessary. But take notice of this, O conscript fathers, what a born
enemy to the republic Antonius is, who is so violent in his hatred of that city
which he knows to have been at all times most firmly attached to this republic.
“[Do you not know] that no one of the party of
Pompeius, who is still alive, can, by the Hirtian law, possess any
rank?”
What, I should like to know, is the object of now making mention of the Hirtian
law?—a law of which I believe the framer himself repents no less than
those against whom it was passed. According to my opinion, it is utterly wrong
to call it a law at all; and, even if it be a law, we ought not to think it a
law of Hirtius.
“You have furnished Brutus with money
belonging to Apuleius.”
Well? Suppose the republic had furnished that excellent man with all its
treasures and resources, what good man would have disapproved of it? For without
money he could not have supported an army, nor without an army could he have
taken your brother prisoner.
“You have praised the execution of Paetus and
Menedemus, men who had been presented with the freedom of the city, and who
were united by ties of hospitality to Caesar.”
We do not praise what we have never even heard of; we were very likely, in such a
state of confusion and such a critical period of the republic, to busy our minds
about two worthless Greeklings!
“You took no notice of Theopompus having been
stripped, and driven out by Trebonius, and compelled to flee to Alexandria.”
The senate has indeed been very guilty! We have taken no notice of that great man
Theopompus! Why, who on earth knows or cares where he is, or what he is doing;
or, indeed, whether he is alive or dead?
“You endure the sight of Sergius. Galba in
your camp, armed with the same dagger with which he slew
Caesar.”
I shall make you no reply at all about Galba; a most gallant and courageous
citizen. He will meet you face to face; and he being present, and that dagger
which you reproach him with, shall give you your answer.
“You have enlisted my soldiers, and many
veterans, under the pretense of intending the destruction of those men who
slew Caesar; and then, when they expected no such step, you have led them on
to attack their quaestor, their general, and their former
comrades!”
No doubt we deceived them; we humbugged them completely! no doubt the Martial
legion, the fourth legion, and the veterans had no idea what was going on! They
were not following the authority of the senate, or the liberty of the Roman
people.—They were anxious to avenge the death of Caesar, which they
all regarded as an act of destiny! No doubt you were the person whom they were
anxious to see safe, and happy, and flourishing!
Oh miserable man, not only in fact, but also in the circumstance of not
perceiving yourself how miserable you are! But listen to the most serious charge
of all. “In fact, what have you not
sanctioned,—what have you not done? what would be done if he were
to come to life again, by?—”
By whom? For I suppose he means to bring forward some instance of a very wicked
man. “Cnaeus Pompeius himself?”
Oh how base must we be, if indeed we have been imitating Cnaeus Pompeius! “Or his son, if he could be at
home?”
He soon will be at home, believe me; for in a very few days he will enter on his
home, and on his father's villas. “Lastly, you
declare that peace can not be made unless I either allow Brutus to quit
Mutina, or supply him with
corn.”
It is others who say that: I say, that even if you were to do so, there never
could be peace between this city and you. “What? is this the opinion of those veteran soldiers, to whom as
yet either course is open?”
I do not see that there is any course so open to them, as now to begin and
attack that general whom they previously were so zealous and unanimous in
defending.There is some difficulty here, Many editors
propose to read offenderint, which Orellius
thinks would hardly be Latin. He says, “Antonius is here speaking
of those veterans who had deserted him indeed, but who, at the time of his
writing this letter, had not acted against him.” Therefore, he
says it is open to them to become reconciled to him again (wishing to
conciliate them, and to alarm his enemies). On the other hand, Cicero
replies, Nothing is so open to them now as to do what their duty to the
republic requires. That is to say, openly to attack you, whose party they
have already abandoned.
“Since you yourselves have sold yourselves for
flatteries and poisoned gifts.”
Are those men depraved and corrupted, who have been persuaded to pursue a most
detestable enemy with most righteous war? “But
you say, you are bringing assistance to troops who are hemmed in. I have no
objection to their being saved, and departing wherever you wish, if they
only allow that man to be put to death who has deserved it.”
How very kind of him! The soldiers availing themselves of the liberality of
Antonius have deserted their general, and have fled in alarm to his enemy; and
if it had not been for them, Dolabella, in offering the sacrifice which he did
to the shade of his general, would not have been beforehand with Antonius in
propitiating the spirit of his colleague by a similar offering.
“You write me word that there has been mention
of peace made in the senate, and that five ambassadors of consular rank have
been appointed. It is hard to believe that those men, who drove me in haste
from the city, when I offered the fairest conditions, and when I was even
thinking of relaxing somewhat of them, should now think of acting with
moderation or humanity. And it is hardly probable, that those men who have
pronounced Dolabella a public enemy for a most righteous action, should
bring themselves to spare us who are influenced by the same sentiments as
he.”
Does it appear a trifling matter, that he confesses himself a partner with
Dolabella in all his atrocities? Do you not see that all these crimes flow from
one source? He himself confesses, shrewdly and correctly enough, that those who
have pronounced Dolabella a public enemy for a most righteous action (for so it
appeal's to Antonius), can not possibly spare him who agrees with Dolabella in
opinion.
What can you do with a man who puts on paper and records the fact, that his
agreement with Dolabella is so complete, that he would kill Trebonius, and, if
he could, Brutus and Cassius too with every circumstance of torture; and inflict
the same punishment on us also? Certainly, a man who makes so pious and fair a
treaty is a citizen to be taken care of! He also complains that the conditions
which he offered, those reasonable and modest conditions, were rejected; namely,
that he was to have the farther Gaul,—the province the most suitable of all for renewing
and carrying on the war; that the legionaries of the Alauda should be judges in
the third decury; that is to say, that there shall be an asylum for all crimes,
to the indelible disgrace of the republic; that his own acts should be ratified,
his,—when not one trace of his consulship has been allowed to remain!
He showed his regard also for the interests of Lucius Antonius, who had been a
most equitable surveyor of private and public domains, with Nucula and Lento for
his colleagues.
“Consider then, both of you, whether it is
more becoming and more advantageous for your party, for you to seek to
avenge the death of Trebonius, or that of Caesar; and whether it is more
reasonable for you and me to meet in battle, in order that the cause of the
Pompeians, which has so frequently had its throat cut, may the more easily
revive; or to agree together, so as not to be a laughing-stock to our
enemies.”
If its throat had been cut, it never could revive. “Which,”
says he, “is more becoming.”
In this war he talks of what is
becoming!
“And more advantageous for your
party.”
—“Parties,” you senseless
man, is a suitable expression for the forum, or the senate house. You have
declared a wicked war against your country; you are attacking Mutina; you are besieging the consul elect;
two consuls are carrying on war against you; and with them, Caesar, the
propraetor; all Italy is armed against
you; and then do you call yours “a party,” instead of a
revolt from the republic? “To seek to avenge
the death of Trebonius, or that of Caesar.”
We have avenged
Trebonius sufficiently by pronouncing Dolabella a public enemy. The death of
Caesar is best defended by oblivion and silence. But take notice what his object
is.—When he thinks that the death of Caesar ought to be revenged, he
is threatening with death, not those only who perpetrated that action, but those
also who were not indignant at it.
“Men who will count the destruction of either
you or me gain to them. A spectacle which as yet fortune herself has taken
care to avoid, unwilling to see two armies which belong to one body
fighting, with Cicero acting as master of the show; a fellow who is so far
happy that he has cajoled you both with the same compliments as those with
which he boasted that he had deceived Caesar.”
He proceeds in his abuse of me, as if he had been very fortunate in all his
former reproaches of me; but I will brand him with the most thoroughly deserved
marks of infamy, and pillory him for the everlasting recollection of posterity.
I a “master of the show of
gladiators!”
indeed he is not wholly wrong, for I do wish to
see the worst party slain, and the best victorious! He writes that “whichever of them are destroyed we shall
count as so much gain.”
Admirable gain, when, if you, O Antonius, are
victorious (may the gods avert such a disaster!) the death of those men who
depart from life untortured will be accounted happy! He says that Hirtius and
Caesar “have been cajoled by me by the same
compliments.”
I should like to know what compliment has been
as yet paid to Hirtius by me; for still more and greater ones than have been
paid him already are due to Caesar. But do you, O Antonius, dare to say that
Caesar, the father, was deceived by me! You, it was you, I say, who really slew
him at the Lupercal games. Why, O most ungrateful of men, have you abandoned
your office of priest to him? But remark now the admirable wisdom and
consistency of this great and illustrious man.
“I am quite resolved to brook no insult either
to myself or to my friends; nor to desert that party which Pompeius hated,
nor to allow the veterans to be removed from their abodes; nor to allow
individuals to be dragged out to torture, nor to violate the faith which I
pledged to Dolabella.”
I say nothing of the rest of this sentence, “the faith pledged to Dolabella,”
to that most holy
man, this pious gentleman will by no means violate. What faith? Was it a pledge
to murder every virtuous citizen, to partition the city and Italy, to distribute the provinces among, and
to hand them over to be plundered by, their followers? For what else was there
which could have been ratified by treaty and mutual pledges between Antonius and
Dolabella, those foul and parricidal traitors?
“Nor to violate my treaty of alliance with
Lepidus, the most conscientious of men.”
You have any alliance with Lepidus or with any (I will not say virtuous citizen,
as he is, but with any) man in his senses! Your object is to make Lepidus appear
either an impious man, or a madman. But you are doing no good (although it is a
hard matter to speak positively of another), especially with a man like Lepidus,
whom I will never fear, but I shall hope good things of him unless I am
prevented from doing so. Lepidus wished to recall you from your frenzy, not to
be the assistant of your insanity. But you seek your friends not only among
conscientious men, but among most conscientious men. And you
actually, godlike is your piety, invent a new word to express it which has no
existence in the Latin language.
“Nor to betray Plancus, the partner of my
counsels.)“
Plancus, the partner of your counsels? He, whose ever memorable and divine virtue
brings a light to the republic (unless, perhaps, you think that it is as a
reinforcement to you that he has come with those most gallant legions, and with
a numerous Gallic force of both cavalry and infantry); and who, if before his
arrival you have not by your punishment made atonement to the republic for your
wickedness, will be chief leader in this war. For although the first succors
that arrive are more useful to the republic, yet the last are the more
acceptable.
However, at last he recollects himself and begins to philosophize.
“If the immortal gods assist me, as I trust
that they will, going on my way with proper feelings, I shall live happily;
but if another fate awaits me, I have already a foretaste of joy in the
certainty of your punishment. For if the Pompeians when defeated are so
insolent, you will be sure to experience what they will be when
victorious.”
You are very welcome to your foretaste of joy. For you are at war not only with
the Pompeians, but with the entire republic. Every one, gods and men, the
highest rank, the middle class, the lowest dregs of the people, citizens and
foreigners, men and women, free men and slaves, all hate you. We saw this the
other day on some false news that came; but we shall soon see it from the way in
which true news is received. And if you ponder these things with yourself a
little, you will die with more equanimity, and greater comfort.
“Lastly, this is the sum of my opinion and
determination; I will bear with the insults offered me by my friends, if
they themselves are willing to forget that they have offered them; or if
they are prepared to unite with me in avenging Caesar a
death.”
Now that they know this resolution of Antonius, do you think that Aulus Hirtius
and Caius Pansa, the consuls, can hesitate to pass over to Antonius? to besiege
Brutus? to be eager to attack Mutina? Why do I say Hirtius and Pansa? Will Caesar, that young man
of singular piety, be able to restrain himself from seeking to avenge the
injuries of his father in the blood of Decimus Brutus? Therefore, as soon as
they had read his letter, the course which they adopted was to approach nearer
to the fortifications. And on this account we ought to consider Caesar a still
more admirable young man; and that a still greater kindness of the immortal gods
which gave him to the republic, as he has never been misled by the specious use
of his father's name; nor by any false idea of piety and affection. He sees
clearly that the greatest piety consists in the salvation of one's country.
But if it were a contest between parties,
the name of which is utterly extinct, then would Antonius and Ventidius be the
proper persons to uphold the party of Caesar, rather than in the first place,
Caesar, a young man full of the greatest piety and the most affectionate
recollection of his parent? and next to him Pansa and Hirtius, who held (if I
may use such an expression) the two horns of Caesar, at the time when that
deserved to be called a party. But what parties are these, when the one proposes
to itself to uphold the authority of the senate, the liberty of the Roman
people, and the safety of the republic, while the other fixes its eyes on the
slaughter of all good men, and on the partition of the city and of Italy!
Let us come at last to the end.
“I do not believe that ambassadors are
coming—”
He knows me well.
“To a place where war exists.”
Especially with the example of Dolabella before our eyes ambassadors, I should
think, will have privileges more respected than two consuls against whom he is
bearing arms; or than Caesar, whose father's priest he is; or than the consul
elect, whom he is attacking; or than Mutina, which he is besieging; or than his country, which he is
threatening with fire and sword.
“When they do come I shall see what they
demand.
Plagues and tortures seize you! Will any one come to you unless he be a man like
Ventidius? We sent men of the very highest character to extinguish the rising
conflagration; you rejected them. Shall we now send men when the fire has become
so large and has risen to such a height, and when you have left yourself no
possible room, not only for peace, but not even for a surrender?
I have read you this letter, O conscript fathers, not because I thought it worth
reading, but in order to let you see all his parricidal treasons revealed by his
own confessions. Would Marcus Lepidus, that
man so richly endowed with all the gifts of virtue and fortune, if he saw this
letter, either wish for peace with this man, or even think it possible that
peace should be made? “Sooner shall fire and water mingle,”
as some poet or other says; sooner shall any thing in the world happen than
either the republic become reconciled to the Antonii, or the Antonii to the
republic. Those men are monsters, prodigies, portentous pests of the republic.
It would be better for this city to be uplifted from its foundations and
transported, if such a thing were possible, into other regions, where it should
never hear of the actions or the name of the Antonii, than for it to see those
men, driven out by the valor of Caesar, and hemmed in by the courage of Brutus,
inside these walls. The most desirable thing is victory; the next best thing is
to think no disaster too great to bear in defense of the dignity and freedom of
one's country. The remaining alternative, I will not call it the third, but the
lowest of all, is to undergo the greatest disgrace from a desire of life.
Since, then, this is the case, as to the letters and messages of Marcus Lepidus,
that most illustrious man, I agree with Servilius. And I further give my vote,
that Magnus Pompeius, the son of Cnaeus, has acted as might have been expected
from the affection and zeal of his father and forefathers toward the republic,
and from his own previous virtue and industry and loyal principles in promising
to the senate and people of Rome his
own assistance, and that of those men whom he has with him; and that that
conduct of his is grateful and acceptable to the senate and people of Rome, and that it shall tend to his own honor
and dignity. This may either be added to the resolution of the senate which is
before us, or it may be separated from it and drawn up by itself, so as to let
Pompeius be seen to be extolled in a distinct resolution of the senate.
THE FOURTEENTH (AND LAST) ORATION OF M. T. CICERO AGAINST MARCUS ANTONIUS. CALLED ALSO THE FOURTEENTH PHILIPPIC.
THE ARGUMENT.
After the last speech was delivered, Brutus gained great advantages in
Macedonia over Caius Antonius,
and took him prisoner. He treated him with great lenity, so much so as to
displease Cicero, who remonstrated with him strongly on his design of
setting him at liberty. He was also under some apprehension as to the
steadiness of Plancus's loyalty to the senate; but on his writing to that
body to assure them of his obedience, Cicero procured a vote of some
extraordinary honors to him,
Cassius also about the same time was very successful in Syria, of which he wrote Cicero a full
account. Meantime reports were being spread in the city by the partisans of
Antonius, of his success before Mutina; and even of his having gained over the consuls.
Cicero too was personally much annoyed at a report which they spread of his
having formed the design of making himself master of the city and assuming
the title of Dictator, but when Apuleius, one of his friends and a tribune
of the people, proceeded to make a speech to the people in Cicero's
justification, the people all cried out that he had never done any thing
which was not for the advantage of the republic. About the same time news
arrived of a victory gained over Antonius at Mutina.
Pansa was now on the point of joining Hirtius with four pew legions and
Antonius endeavored to surprise him on the road before he could effect that
junction. A severe battle ensued, in which Hirtius came to Pansa's aid, and
Antonius was defeated with great loss. On the receipt of the news, the
populace assembled about Cicero's house, and carried him in triumph to the
Capitol. The next day Marcus Cornutus, the praetor, summoned the senate to
deliberate on the letters received from the consuls and Octavius, giving an
account of the victory. Servilius declared his opinion that the citizens
should relinquish the sagum, or robe of war;
and that a supplication should be decreed in honor of the consuls and
Octavius. Cicero rose next and delivered the following speech, objecting to
the relinquishment of the robe of war, and blaming Servilius for not calling
Antonius an enemy.
The measures which he himself proposed were carried.
If, O conscript fathers, while I learned from the letters which have been read
that the army of our most wicked enemies had been defeated and routed, I had
also learned what we all wish for above all things, and which we do suppose has
resulted from that victory which has been achieved,—namely, that
Decimus Brutus had already quitted Mutina,—then I should without any hesitation give my
vote for our returning to our usual dress out of joy at the safety of that
citizen on account of whose danger it was that we adopted the robe of war, But
before any news of that event which the city looks for with the greatest
eagerness arrives, we have sufficient reason indeed for joy at this most
important and most illustrious battle; but reserve, I beg you, your return to
your usual dress for the time of complete victory. But the completion of this
war is the safety of Decimus Brutus.
But what is the meaning of this proposal that our dress shall be changed just for
today, and that tomorrow we should again come forth in the garb of war? Rather
when we have once turned to that dress which we wish and desire to assume, let
us strive to retain it forever; for this is not only discreditable, but it is
displeasing also to the immortal gods, to leave their altars, which we have
approached in the attire of peace, for the purpose of assuming the garb of war.
And I notice, O conscript fathers, that
there are some who favor this proposal: whose intention and design is, as they
see that that will be a most glorious day for Decimus Brutus on which we return
to our usual dress out of joy for his safety, to deprive him of this great
reward, so that it may not be handed down to the recollection of posterity that
the Roman people had recourse to the garb of war on account of the danger of one
single citizen, and then returned to their gowns of pence on account of his
safety. Take away this reason, and you will find no other for so absurd a
proposal. But do you, O conscript fathers, preserve your authority, adhere to
your own opinions, preserve in your recollection what you have often declared,
that the whole result of this entire war depends on the life of one most brave
and excellent man.
For the purpose of effecting the liberation of Decimus Brutus, the chief men of
the state were sent as ambassadors, to give notice to that enemy and parricidal
traitor to retire from Mutina; for
the sake of preserving that same Decimus Brutus, Aulus Hirtius, the consul, went
by lot to conduct the war; a man the weakness of whose bodily health was made up
for by the strength of his courage, and encouraged by the hope of victory;
Caesar, too, after he, with an army levied by his own resources and on his own
authority, had delivered the republic from the first dangers that assailed it,
in order to prevent any subsequent wicked attempts from being originated,
departed to assist in the deliverance of the same Brutus, and subdued some
family vexation which he may have felt by his attachment to his country.
What other object had Caius Pansa in
holding the levies which he did, and in collecting money, and in carrying the
most severe resolutions of the senate against Antonius, and in exhorting us, and
in inviting the Roman people to embrace the cause of liberty, except to insure
the deliverance of Decimus Brutus? For the Roman people in crowds demanded at
his hands the safety of Decimus Brutus with such unanimous outcries, that he was
compelled to prefer it not only to any consideration of his own personal
advantage, but even to his own necessities. And that end we now, O conscript
fathers, are entitled to hope is either at the point of being achieved, or is
actually gained; but it is right for the reward of our hopes to be reserved for
the issue and event of the business, lest we should appear either to have
anticipated the kindness of the gods by our over precipitation, or to have
despised the bounty of fortune through our own folly.
But since the manner of your behavior shows plainly enough what you think of this
matter, I will come to the letters which have arrived from the consuls and the
propraetor, after I have said a few words relating to the letters themselves.
The swords, O conscript fathers, of our legions and armies have been stained
with, or rather, I should say, dipped deep in blood in two battles which have
taken place under the consuls, and a third, which has been fought under the
command of Caesar. If it was the blood of enemies, then great is the piety of
the soldiers; but it is nefarious wickedness if it was the blood of citizens.
How long, then, is that man, who has surpassed all enemies in wickedness, to be
spared the name of enemy? unless you wish to see the very swords of our soldiers
trembling in their hands while they doubt whether they are piercing a citizen or
an enemy. You vote a supplication; you do not
call Antonius an enemy. Very pleasing indeed to the immortal gods will our
thanksgivings be, very pleasing too the victims, after a multitude of our
citizens has been slain! “For the victory” says the proposer
of the supplication, “over wicked and audacious men.” For
that is what this most illustrious man calls them; expressions of blame suited
to lawsuits carried on in the city, not denunciations of searing infamy such as
deserved by internecine war. I suppose they are forging wills, or trespassing on
their neighbors, or cheating some young men; for it is men implicated in these
and similar practices that we are in the habit of terming wicked and audacious.
One man, the foulest of all banditti, is
waging an irreconcilable war against four consuls. He is at the same time
carrying on war against the senate and people of Rome. He is (although he is himself hastening to destruction;
through the disasters which he has met with) threatening all of us with
destruction, and devastation, and torments, and tortures. He declares that that
inhuman and savage act of Dolabella's, which no nation of barbarians would have
owned, was done by his advice; and what he himself would do in this city, if
this very Jupiter, who now looks down upon us assembled in his temple, had not
repelled him from this temple and from these walls, he showed, in the miseries
of those inhabitants of Parma, whom,
virtuous and honorable men as they were, and most intimately connected with the
authority of this order, and with the dignity of the Roman people, that villain
and monster, Lucius Antonius, that object of the extraordinary detestation of
all men, and (if the gods hate those whom they ought) of all the gods also,
murdered with every circumstance of cruelty.
My mind shudders at the recollection, O conscript fathers, and shrinks from
relating the cruelties which Lucius Antonius perpetrated on the children and
wives of the citizens of Parma. For
whatever infamy the Antonii have willingly undergone in their own persons to
their own infamy, they triumph in the fact of having inflicted on others by
violence. But it is a miserable violence which they offered to them; most unholy
lust, such as the whole life of the Antonii is polluted with.
Is there then any one who is afraid to call those men enemies, whose wickedness
he admits to have surpassed even the inhumanity of the Carthaginians? For in
what city, when taken by storm, did Hannibal even behave with such ferocity as
Antonius did in Parma, which he filched by surprise? Unless, perhaps, Antonius
is not to be considered the enemy of this colony, and of the others toward which
he is animated with the same feelings. But if
he is beyond all question the enemy of the colonies and municipal towns, then
what do you consider him with respect to this city which he is so eager for to
satiate the indigence of his band of robbers? which that skillful and
experienced surveyor of his, Saxa, has already marked out with his rule.
Recollect, I entreat you, in the name of the immortal gods, O conscript fathers,
what we have been fearing for the last two days, in consequence of infamous
rumors carefully disseminated by enemies within the walls. Who has been able to
look upon his children or upon his wife without weeping? who has been able to
bear the sight of his home, of his house, and his household gods? Already all of
us were expecting a most ignominious death, or meditating a miserable flight.
And shall we hesitate to call the men at whose hands we feared all these things
enemies? If any one should propose a more severe designation I will willingly
agree to it; I am hardly content with this ordinary one, and will certainly not
employ a more moderate one.
Therefore, as we are bound to vote, and as Servilius has already proposed a most
just supplication for those letters which have been read to you; I will propose
altogether to increase the number of the days which it is to last, especially as
it is to be decreed in honor of three generals conjointly. But first of all I
will insist on styling those men imperator by whose
valor, and wisdom, and good fortune we have been released from the most imminent
danger of slavery and death. Indeed, who is there within the last twenty years
who has had a supplication decreed to him without being himself styled imperator, though he may have performed the most
insignificant exploits, or even almost none at all. Wherefore, the senator who
spoke before me ought either not to have moved for a supplication at all, or he
ought to have paid the usual and established compliment to those men to whom
even new and extraordinary honors are justly due.
Shall the senate, according to this custom which has now obtained, style a man
imperator if he has slain a thousand or two of
Spaniards, or Gauls, or Thracians; and now that so many legions have been
routed, now that such a multitude of enemies has been slain,—yes,
enemies, I say, although our enemies within the city do not fancy this
expression,—shall we pay to our most illustrious generals the honor of
a supplication, and refuse them the name of imperator? For with what great honor, and joy, and exultation
ought the deliverers of this city themselves to enter into this temple, when
yesterday, on account of the exploits which they have performed, the Roman
people carried me in an ovation, almost in a triumph from my house to the
Capitol, and back again from the Capitol to my own house? That is indeed in my opinion a just and genuine triumph,
when men who have deserved well of the republic receive public testimony to
their merits from the unanimous consent of the senate. For if, at a time of
general rejoicing on the part of the Roman people, they addressed their
congratulations to one individual, that is a great proof of their opinion of
him; if they gave him thanks, that is a greater still; if they did both, then
nothing more honorable to him can be possibly imagined.
Are you saying all this of yourself? some one will ask. It is indeed against my
will that I do so; but my indignation at injustice makes me boastful, contrary
to my usual habit. Is it not sufficient that thanks should not be given to men
who have well earned them, by men who are ignorant of the very nature of virtue?
And shall accusations and odium be attempted to be excited against those men who
devote all their thoughts to insuring the safety of the republic? For you well know that there has been a common
report for the last few days, that the day before the wine feast,There were two wine feasts, Vinalia, at Rome:
the vinalia urbana, celebrated on the
twenty-third of April; and the vinalia rustica,
on the nineteenth of October. This was the urbana
vinalia; on which occasion the wine-casks which had been
filled In the autumn were tasted for the first time. that is to say,
on this very day, I was intending to come forth with the fasces as dictator. One would think that this story was invented
against some gladiator, or robber, or Catiline, and not against a man who had
prevented any such step from ever being taken in the republic. Was I, who
defeated and overthrew and crushed Catiline, when he was attempting such
wickedness, a likely man myself all on a sudden to turn out Catiline? Under what
auspices could I, an augur, take those fasces? How
long should I have been likely to keep them? to whom was I to deliver them as my
successor? The idea of any one having been so wicked as to invent such a tale!
or so mad as to believe it! In what could such a suspicion, or rather such
gossip, have originated?
When, as you know, during the last three or four days a report of bad news from
Mutina has been creeping abroad,
the disloyal part of the citizens, inflated with exultation and insolence, began
to collect in one place, at that senate-house which has been more fatal to their
party than to the republic. There, while they were forming a plan to massacre
us, and were distributing the different duties among one another, and settling
who was to seize on the Capitol, who on the rostra, who on the gates of the
city, they thought that all the citizens would flock to me. And in order to
bring me into unpopularity, and even into danger of my life, they spread abroad
this report about the fasces. They themselves had
some idea of bringing the fasces to my house; and
then, on pretense of that having been done by my wish, they had prepared a band
of hired ruffians to make an attack on me as on a tyrant, and a massacre of all
of you was intended to follow. The fact is already notorious, O conscript
fathers, but the origin of all this wickedness will be revealed in its fitting
time.
Therefore Publius Apuleius, a tribune of the people, who ever since my consulship
has been the witness and partaker of, and my assistant in all my designs and all
my dangers, could not endure the grief of witnessing my indignation. He convened
a numerous assembly, as the whole Roman people were animated with one feeling on
the subject. And when in the harangue which he then made, he, as was natural
from our great intimacy and friendship, was going to exculpate me from all
suspicion in the matter of the fasces, the whole
assembly cried out with one voice, that I had never had any intentions with
regard to the republic which were not excellent. After this assembly was over,
within two or three hours, these most welcome messengers and letters arrived, so
that the same day not only delivered me from a most unjust odium, but increased
my credit by that most extraordinary act with which the Roman people
distinguished me
I have made this digression, O conscript
fathers, not so much for the sake of speaking of myself (for I should be in a
sorry plight if I were not sufficiently acquitted in your eyes without the
necessity of making a formal defense), as with the view of warning some men of
too groveling and narrow minds, to adopt the line of conduct which I myself have
always pursued, and to think the virtue of excellent citizens worthy of
imitation, not of envy. There is a great field in the republic, as Crassus used
very wisely to say; the road to glory is open to many.
Would that those great men were still alive, who, after my consulship, when I
myself was willing to yield to them, were themselves desirous to see me in the
post of leader. But at the present moment, when there is such a dearth of wise
and fearless men of consular rank, how great do you not suppose must be my grief
and indignation, when I see some men absolutely disaffected to the republic,
others wholly indifferent to every thing, others incapable of persevering with
any firmness in the cause which they have espoused; and regulating their
opinions not always by the advantage of the republic, but sometimes by hope, and
sometimes by fear. But if any one is anxious
and inclined to struggle for the leadership—though struggle there
ought to be none—he acts very foolishly, if he proposes to combat
virtue with vices. For as speed is only outstripped by speed, so among brave men
virtue is only surpassed by virtue. Will you, if I am full of excellent
sentiments with respect to the republic, adopt the worst possible sentiments
yourself for the purpose of excelling me? Or if you see a race taking place for
the acquisition of honors, will you summon all the wicked men you can find to
your banner? I should be sorry for you to do so; first of all, for the sake of
the republic, and secondly, for that of your own dignity. But if the leadership
of the state were at stake, which I have never coveted, what could be more
desirable for me than such conduct on your part? For it is impossible that I should be defeated by wicked
sentiments and measures,—by good ones perhaps I might be, and I
willingly would be.
Some people are vexed that the Roman people should see, and take notice of, and
form their opinion on these matters. Was it possible for men not to form their
opinion of each individual as he deserved? For as the Roman people form a most
correct judgment of the entire senate, thinking that at no period in the history
of the republic was this order ever more firm or more courageous; so also they
all inquire diligently concerning every individual among us; and especially in
the case of those among us who deliver our sentiments at length in this place,
they are anxious to know what those sentiments are; and in that way they judge
of each one of us, as they think that he deserves. They recollect that on the nineteenth of December I was the
main cause of recovering our freedom; that from the first of January to this
hour I have never ceased watching over the republic; that day and night my house
and my ears have been open to the instruction and admonition of everyone; that
it has been by my letters, and my messengers, and my exhortations, that all men
in every part of the empire have been roused to the protection of our country;
that it is owing to the open declaration of my opinion ever since the first of
January, that no ambassadors have been ever sent to Antonius; that I have always
called him a public enemy, and this a war; so that I, who on every occasion have
been the adviser of genuine peace, have been a determined enemy to this pretense
of fatal peace.
Have not I also at all times pronounced Ventidius an enemy, when others wished to
call him a tribune of the people? If the consuls had chosen to divide the senate
on my opinion, their arms would long since have been wrested from the hands of
all those robbers by the positive authority of the senate.
But what could not be done then, O conscript fathers, at present not only can be,
but even must be done. I mean, those men who are in reality enemies must be
branded in plain language, must be declared enemies by our formal resolution.
Formerly, when I used the words War or
Enemy, men more than once objected to record my proposition among the other
propositions. But that can not be done on the present occasion. For in
consequence of the letters of Caius Pansa and Aulus Hirtius, the consuls, and of
Caius Caesar, propraetor, we have all voted that honors be paid to the immortal
gods. The very man who lately proposed and carried a vote for a supplication,
without intending it pronounced those men enemies; for a supplication has never
been decreed for success in civil war. Decreed, do I say? It has never even been
asked for in the letters of the conqueror.
Sulla as consul carried on a civil war; he led his legions into the city and
expelled whomsoever he chose; he slew those whom he had in his power: there was
no mention made of any supplication. The violent war with Octavius followed.
Cinna the conqueror had no supplication voted to him. Sulla as imperator revenged the victory of Cinna, still no
supplication was decreed by the senate. I ask you yourself, O Publius Servilius,
did your colleague send you any letters concerning that most lamentable battle
of Pharsalia? Did he wish you to make any motion about a supplication? Certainly
not. But he did afterward when he took Alexandria; when he defeated Pharnaces; but for the battle of
Pharsalia he did not even celebrate a triumph. For that battle had destroyed
those citizens whose, I will not say lives, but even whose victory might have
been quite compatible with the safety and prosperity of the state. And the same thing had happened in the previous
civil wars. For though a supplication was decreed in my honor when I was consul,
though no arms had been had recourse to at all, still that was voted by a new
and wholly unprecedented kind of decree, not for the slaughter of enemies, but
for the preservation of the citizens. Wherefore, a supplication on account of
the affairs of the republic having been successfully conducted must, O conscript
fathers, be refused by you even though your generals demand it; a stigma which
has never been affixed on any one except Gabinius; or else, by the mere fact of
decreeing a supplication, it is quite inevitable that you must pronounce those
men, for whose defeat you do decree it, enemies of the state.
What then Servilius did in effect, I do in express terms, when I style those men
imperators. By using this name, I pronounce those who have been already
defeated, and those who still remain, enemies in calling their conquerors
imperators. For what title can I more
suitably bestow on Pansa? Though he has, indeed, the title of the highest honor
in the republic. What, too, shall I call Hirtius? He, indeed, is consul; but
this latter title is indicative of the kindness of the Roman people; the other
of valor and victory. What? Shall I hesitate to call Caesar imperator, a man born for the republic by the express kindness of
the gods? He who was the first man who turned aside the savage and disgraceful
cruelty of Antonius, not only from our throats but from our limbs and bowels?
What numerous and what important virtues, O ye immortal gods, were displayed on
that single day. For Pansa was the leader of
all in engaging in battle and in combating with Antonius; O general worthy of
the Martial legion, legion worthy of its general! Indeed, if he had been able to
restrain its irresistible impetuosity, the whole war would have been terminated
by that one battle. But as the legion, eager for liberty, had rushed with too
much precipitation against the enemy's line of battle, and as Pansa himself was
fighting in the front ranks, he received two dangerous wounds, and was borne out
of the battle, to preserve his life for the republic. But I pronounce him not
only imperator, but a most illustrious imperator; who, as he had pledged himself to discharge
his duty to the republic either by death or by victory, has fulfilled one half
of his promise; may the immortal gods prevent the fulfillment of the other half!
Why need I speak of Hirtius? who, the moment he heard of what was going on, with
incredible promptness and courage led forth two legions out of the camp; that
noble fourth legion, which, having deserted Antonius, formerly united itself to
the Martial legion; and the seventh, which, consisting wholly of veterans, gave
proof in that battle that the name of the senate and people of Rome was dear to those soldiers who preserved
the recollection of the kindness of Caesar. With these twenty cohorts, with no
cavalry, while Hirtius himself was bearing the eagle of the fourth
legion,—and we never heard of a more noble office being assumed by any
general,—he fought with the three legions of Antonius and with his
cavalry, and overthrew, and routed, and put to the sword those impious men who
were the real enemies to this temple of the all good and all powerful Jupiter, and to the rest of the temples of the
immortal gods, and the houses of the city, and the freedom of the Roman people,
and our lives and actual existence; so that that chief and leader of robbers
fled away with a very few followers, concealed by the darkness of night, and
frightened out of all his senses.
Oh what a most blessed day was that, which, while the carcasses of those
parricidal traitors were strewed about every where, beheld Antonius flying with
a few followers, before he reached his place of concealment.
But will any one hesitate to call Caesar imperator?
Most certainly his age will not deter any one from agreeing to this proposition,
since he has gone beyond his age in virtue. And to me, indeed, the services of
Caius Caesar have always appeared the more deserving of thanks, in proportion as
they were less to have been expected from a man of his age. For when we
conferred military command on him we were in fact encouraging the hope with
which his name inspired us and now that he has fulfilled those hopes, he has
sanctioned the authority of our decree by his exploits. This young man of great
mind, as Hirtius most truly calls him in his letter, with a few cohorts defended
the camp of many legions and fought a successful battle And in this manner the
republic has on one day been preserved in many places by the valor and wisdom,
and good fortune of three imperators of the Roman people.
I therefore propose supplications of fifty days in the joint names of the three.
The reasons I will embrace in the words of the resolution, using the most
honorable language that I can devise.
But it becomes our good faith and our piety to show plainly to our most gallant
soldiers how mindful of their services and how grateful for them we are; and
accordingly I give my vote that our promises, and those pledges too which we
promised to bestow on the legions when the war was finished, be repeated in the
resolution which we are going to pass this day. For it is quite fair that the
honor of the soldiers, especially of such soldiers as those, should be united
with that of their commanders. And I wish, O
conscript fathers, that it was lawful for us to dispense rewards to all the
citizens, although we will give those which we have promised with the most
careful usury. But that remains, as I well hope, to the conquerors, to whom the
faith of the senate is pledged; and, as they have adhered to it at a most
critical period of the republic, we are bound to take care that they never have
cause to repent of their conduct. But it is easy for us to deal fairly by those
men whose very services, though mute, appear to demand our liberality. This is a
much more praiseworthy and more important duty, to pay a proper tribute of
grateful recollection to the valor of those men who have shed their blood in the
cause of their country. And I wish more
suggestions could occur to me in the way of doing honor to those men. The two
ideas which principally do occur to me, I will at all events not pass over; the
one of which has reference to the everlasting glory of those bravest of men; the
other may tend to mitigate the sorrow and mourning of their relations.
I therefore give my vote, O conscript fathers, that the most honorable monument
possible be erected to the soldiers of the Martial legion, and to those soldiers
also who died fighting by their side. Great and incredible are the services done
by this legion to the republic. This was the first legion to tear itself from
the piratical band of Antonius; this was the legion which encamped at Alba; this
was the legion that went over to Caesar; and it was in imitation of the conduct
of this legion that the fourth legion has earned almost equal glory for its
virtue. The fourth is victorious without having lost a man; some of the Martial
legion fell in the very moment of victory. Oh happy death, which, due to nature,
has been paid in the cause of one's country!
But I consider you men born for your country; you whose very name is derived
from Mars, so that the same god who begot this city for the advantage of the
nations, appears to have begotten you for the advantage of this city. Death in
flight is infamous; in victory glorious. In truth, Mars himself seems to select
all the bravest men from the battle array. Those impious men whom you slew,
shall even in the shades below pay the penalty of their parricidal treason. But
you, who have poured forth your latest breath in victory, have earned an abode
and place among the pious. A brief life has been allotted to us by nature; but
the memory of a well-spent life is imperishable. And if that memory were no
longer than this life, who would be so senseless as to strive to attain even the
highest praise and glory by the most enormous labors and dangers?
You then have fared most admirably, being the
bravest of soldiers while you lived, and now the most holy of warriors, because
it will be impossible for your virtue to be buried, either through the
forgetfulness of the men of the present age, or the silence of posterity, since
the senate and Roman people will have raised to you an imperishable monument, I
may almost say with their own hands. Many armies at various times have been
great and illustrious in the Punic, and Gallic, and Italian wars; but to none of
them have honors been paid of the description which are now conferred on you.
And I wish that we could pay you even greater honors, since we have received
from you the greatest possible services. You it was who turned aside the
furious. Antonius from this city; you it was who repelled him when endeavoring
to return. There shall therefore be a vast monument erected with the most
sumptuous work and an inscription engraved upon it as the everlasting witness of
your godlike virtue And never shall the most grateful language of all who either
see or hear of your monument cease to be heard And in this manner you, in
exchange for your mortal condition of life, have attained immortality.
But since, O conscript fathers, the gift of glory is conferred on these most
excellent and gallant citizens by the honor of a monument, let us comfort their
relations, to whom this indeed is the best consolation. The greatest comfort for
their parents is the reflection that they have produced sons who have been such
bulwarks of the republic; for their children, that they will have such examples
of virtue in their family; for their wives, that the husbands whom they have
lost are men whom it is a credit to praise, and to have a right to mourn for;
and for their brothers, that they may trust that, as they resemble them in their
persons, so they do also in their virtues.
Would that we were able by the expression of our sentiments and by our votes to
wipe away the tears of all these persons; or that any such oration as this could
be publicly addressed to them, to cause them to lay aside their grief and
mourning, and to rejoice rather, that, while many various kinds of death impend
over men, the most honorable kind of all has fallen to the lot of their friends;
and that they are not unburied, nor deserted; though even that fate, when
incurred for one a country, is not accounted miserable; nor burned with equable
obsequies in scattered graves, but entombed in honorable sepulchers, and honored
with public offerings; and with a building which will be an altar of their valor
to insure the recollection of eternal ages.
Wherefore it will be the greatest possible comfort to their relations, that by
the same monument are clearly displayed the valor of their kinsmen, and also
their piety, and the good faith of the senate, and the memory of this most
inhuman war, in which, if the valor of the soldiers had been less conspicuous,
the very name of the Roman people would have perished by the parricidal treason
of Marcus. Antonius. And I think also, O conscript fathers, that those rewards
which we promised to bestow on the soldiers when we had recovered the republic,
we should give with abundant usury to those who are alive and victorious when
the time comes; and that in the case of the men to whom those rewards were
promised, but who have died in the defense of their country, I think those same
rewards should be given to their parents or children, or wives or brothers.
But that I may reduce my sentiments into a formal motion, I give my vote that,
“As Caius Pansa, consul, imperator, set
the example of fighting with the enemy in a battle in which the Martial legion
defended the freedom of the Roman people with admirable and incredible valor,
and the legions of the recruits behaved equally well; and as Caius Pansa,
consul, imperator, while engaged in the middle of
the ranks of the enemy received wounds; and as Aulus Hirtius, consul, imperator, the moment that he heard of the battle, and
knew what was going on, with a most gallant and loyal soul, led his army out of
his camp and attacked Marcus Antonius and his army, and put his troops to the
sword, with so little injury to his own army that he did not lose one single
man; and as Caius Caesar, propraetor,
imperator, with great prudence and energy
defended the camp successfully, and routed and put to the sword the forces of
the enemy which had come near the camp:
“On these accounts the senate thinks and declares that the Roman
people has been released from the most disgraceful and cruel slavery by the
valor, and military skill, and prudence, and firmness, and perseverance, and
greatness of mind and good fortune of these their generals. And decrees that, as
they have preserved the republic, the city, the temples of the immortal gods,
the property and fortunes and families of all the citizens, by their own
exertions in battle, and at the risk of their own lives; on account of these
virtuous and gallant and successful achievements, Caius Pansa and Aulus Hirtius,
the consuls, imperators, one or both of them, or, in their absence, Marcus
Cornutus, the city praetor, shall appoint a supplication at all the altars for
fifty days. And as the valor of the legions
has shown itself worthy of their most illustrious generals, the senate will with
great eagerness, now that the republic is recovered, bestow on our legions and
armies all the rewards which it formerly promised them. And as the Martial
legion was the first to engage with the enemy, and fought in such a manner
against superior numbers as to slay many and take some prisoners; and as they
shed their blood for their country without any shrinking; and as the soldiers of
the other legions encountered death with similar valor in defense of the safety
and freedom of the Roman people;—the senate does decree that Caius
Pansa and Aulus Hirtius, the consuls, imperators, one or both of them if it
seems good to them, shall see to the issuing of a contract for, and to the
erecting, the most honorable possible monument to those men who shed their blood
for the lives and liberties and fortunes of the Roman people, and for the city
and temples of the immortal gods; that for that purpose they shall order the
city quaestors to furnish and pay money, in order that it may be witness for the
everlasting recollection of posterity of the wickedness of our most cruel
enemies, and the godlike valor of our soldiers. And that the rewards which the
senate previously appointed for the soldiers, be paid to the parents or children
or wives or brothers of those men who in this war have fallen in defence of
their country; and that all honours be bestowed on them which should have been
bestowed on the soldiers themselves if those men had lived who gained the
victory then by death.”