Chapter 12

28 Remember how this acute fellow proved his case against me. “When Caesar had been killed,” he says, “Brutus at once lifted his bloody dagger high, called out Cicero by name, and congratulated him on liberty regained.” Why me above all? Because I knew? Consider whether the reason for calling my name was this: having performed a deed like those I had performed, he chose me above all to witness that he had become a rival to my glory.

29 But you, stupidest of men, do you not understand that if wishing Caesar killed—the charge you bring against me—is a crime, rejoicing at his death is a crime too? What difference is there between advising a deed and approving it? What does it matter whether I wished it done or am glad it has been done? Is there anyone, then, except those who rejoiced in his kingship, who either did not want it to happen or disapproved once it happened? We are all guilty, therefore. Every honorable man killed Caesar, so far as it lay in him: some lacked a plan, some the courage, some the opportunity. None lacked the will.

30 But attend to the stupidity of the man—or let me say the beast. These were his words: “Brutus, whom I name with respect, held up his bloody dagger and called out ‘Cicero’; from that we must understand that Cicero knew of the plot.” So you call me a criminal, merely suspecting that I suspected something; but the man who carried a dripping dagger before him, you name with respect? Very well. Let that stupidity pass in your words: how much greater it is in your actions and judgments! Decide at last, consul, how you wish the case of the Brutuses, Gaius Cassius, Gnaeus Domitius, Gaius Trebonius and the others to stand. Sleep off your drunken stupor, I say, and breathe out its fumes. Must torches be brought to wake you as you slumber over a cause so great? Will you never understand that you must decide whether the men who did that deed are murderers or champions of liberty?

28 Now remember how this sharp-minded man proved his case against me. He said, “Right after Caesar was killed, Brutus raised his bloody dagger high. He called out Cicero’s name and congratulated him on freedom’s recovery.” Why single me out? Because I knew? Consider another reason why he called my name. He’d done something like what I’d done myself. He called on me above all as his witness: he’d matched the deeds that brought me honor.

29 You’re the stupidest man alive. Can’t you understand this? You accuse me of wanting Caesar killed. If that’s a crime, being glad he died is a crime too. What’s the difference between urging a deed and approving it? What difference does it make whether I wanted it done or am glad it happened? So who didn’t want it to happen? Who disapproved once it was done? Only those who were happy to have him as king. Everyone else is guilty, then. Every decent man killed Caesar, as far as he could. Some lacked a plan, others courage, others the chance. No one lacked the wish.

30 But notice this man’s stupidity—or should I say this animal’s? Here’s what he said: “Brutus, whom I name with respect, held a bloody dagger and called out Cicero’s name. That must mean Cicero knew about the plot.” So you call me a criminal? You only suspect that I suspected something. But the man who carried a dripping dagger out in front of him—you name him with respect? All right. Let that stupidity in your words pass. How much greater is your stupidity in actions and judgments? Make up your mind at last, consul. Decide how you want to judge the two Brutuses, Gaius Cassius, Gnaeus Domitius, Gaius Trebonius, and the rest. Sleep off your hangover, I tell you. Breathe out those wine fumes. Must we bring torches close to wake you? You’re sleeping through a case this important. Will you never understand that you have to decide? Are the men who did this murderers, or did they defend freedom?