Chapter 21

50 You became quaestor. Then immediately, without a senatorial decree, without drawing lots, without a law, you ran to Caesar. You thought him the one refuge on earth for poverty, debt, worthlessness and a ruined way of life. When you had filled yourself there with his largesse and your own plunder—if it is filling yourself to plunder what you immediately pour away—you flew back destitute to seek the tribunate, hoping in that office to resemble your husband if you could.

Now listen, I ask you, not to the filthy, unrestrained things he did to himself and his family’s honor, but to the impious, criminal things he did to us and our fortunes—that is, to the whole republic. You will find that his crime was the beginning from which all our evils sprang.

51 For on the first of January, in the consulship of Lucius Lentulus and Gaius Marcellus, when you wished to shore up the tottering, almost collapsing republic, and to protect Gaius Caesar himself if he were in his right mind, Antony set his sold and surrendered tribunate against your counsels. He laid his neck beneath the axe that has killed many for lesser offenses. The senate decreed against you, Marcus Antony—and the senate was still intact, so many of its lights not yet extinguished—what ancestral custom ordained against a domestic enemy. And you dared speak against me before the senators, when this body had judged me the republic’s savior and you its enemy? Mention of that crime of yours has lapsed; remembrance has not been erased. As long as humanity endures, as long as the Roman people’s name survives—and, if you permit it, that will be forever—your deadly veto will be spoken of.

52 What was the senate doing from passion or rashness when you, a young man alone, prevented this entire body from resolving on the republic’s safety? Not once but repeatedly, and you would not even allow the senate’s authority to be discussed with you. What was being sought except that you should not desire the republic’s utter overthrow and destruction? Neither the leading citizens’ entreaties, nor your elders’ warnings, nor the full senate’s efforts could move you from the position you had sold and signed away. Then, after many other remedies had first been tried, necessity dealt you that wound which few before you had received, and none survived:

50 You became quaestor. Then you immediately rushed off to Caesar. You had no senate decree, no assignment by lot, no law. Your life was wrecked by poverty, debt, and bad behavior. You thought Caesar was your one refuge on earth. There you filled your pockets with his gifts and your own thefts. If you can call it filling your pockets, when you stole only to pour it straight out! Then you came flying back, broke, to seek the tribunate. In that office, you hoped to resemble your husband, if you could.

Now please listen to what he did next. I don’t mean his filthy, reckless attacks on himself and his family’s good name. I mean his godless crimes against us and our property—against the whole republic, in other words. You’ll find that his crime started all our troubles.

51 It was January 1, when Lucius Lentulus and Gaius Marcellus were consuls. You wanted to prop up the republic. It was slipping and almost falling. You also wanted to help Caesar himself, if he was in his right mind. Then this man blocked your plans with his tribunate. He’d sold that office and signed it away. He put his own neck under the ax. Many had died under it for smaller offenses. Antony, the senate passed a decree against you. The senate was still intact then. So many of its leading lights hadn’t yet gone out. Following our ancestors’ practice, it passed the decree used against an enemy who was still a citizen. And you dared attack me before the senators? This body had judged me the republic’s savior. It had judged you its enemy. People stopped bringing up that crime of yours. They haven’t forgotten it. As long as human beings exist, as long as the Roman people’s name survives, people will mention that disastrous veto of yours. And that name will last forever, if you’ll let it.

52 What selfish or reckless thing was the senate doing? You, one young man, stopped the whole body from deciding how to save the republic. You did it not once, but repeatedly. You wouldn’t even discuss the senate’s authority with anyone. What were they asking of you? Only that you stop trying to destroy the republic and tear it down completely. The state’s leading men pleaded with you. Older men warned you. A crowded senate pressed you. None could shift the position you’d sold and handed over. They tried many other things first. Then they had to inflict that wound on you. Few before you had suffered it. Not one had come through unharmed: