Chapter 28

68 What monstrous audacity! Did you dare even to enter that house—you, to cross that most sacred threshold, you, to show your utterly polluted face to the household gods of that home? For a time no one could look at that house, no one could pass it without tears. Are you not ashamed to have lodged there so long? However little understanding you have, nothing in it can give you pleasure. When you looked at those ships’ beaks in the entrance hall, did you think you were entering your own house? It cannot be. Mindless and senseless as you are, you still know yourself, your belongings, and your people. Indeed, I do not believe your mind can ever be at rest, waking or asleep. Violent and raving as you are, the apparition of that incomparable man must rise before you, startle you from sleep in terror, and often drive you mad even while you are awake.

69 For my part, I pity the very walls and roof. What had that house ever seen but chastity? What but conduct in keeping with the finest traditions and the strictest discipline? For that man, senators, as you know, was illustrious abroad and admirable at home, no more deserving of praise for his public achievements than for the ordering of his household. In his dwelling there are stables instead of bedrooms, taverns instead of private chambers. Though now Antony denies it. Do not ask: he has reformed. He ordered that woman of his to take her belongings, took away her keys as the Twelve Tables prescribe, and drove her out. What a distinguished citizen, what an exemplary man! In his whole life he has done nothing more honorable than divorce a mime actress.

70 And how often he mouths the words “both consul and Antony”! That is to say, “both consul and utterly shameless,” “both consul and the most worthless of men.” What else does “Antony” mean? If the name signified distinction, your grandfather, I imagine, would sometimes have called himself “both consul and Antony.” He never did. My colleague, your uncle, would have said it too—unless you alone are an Antony. But I leave aside those offenses which do not belong specifically to the cause with which you ravaged the republic. I return to your cause itself: the civil war, which was born, kindled, and undertaken through your efforts.

68 What monstrous nerve! You dared go into that house? You crossed that most sacred doorstep? You showed your filthy face to that home’s household gods? For a time, nobody could look at that house. Nobody could pass it without tears. Aren’t you ashamed to have stayed there so long? As stupid as you are, nothing there can please you. When you saw those ships’ prows in the entrance, did you think you were entering your own home? That’s impossible. You have no brain or feelings, yes. But you still know yourself, your belongings, and your people. I don’t believe your mind can ever rest, awake or asleep. You’re violent and mad, yes. But when that extraordinary man’s image appears before you, you must wake up terrified. You must often go mad even while awake.

69 I feel sorry for the walls and roof themselves. What had that house ever seen but decent behavior? What had it seen but the best traditions and the strictest moral standards? Senators, you know what sort of man he was. He won fame abroad and admiration at home. His home life deserved just as much praise as his achievements abroad. Now his bedrooms are stables. His private rooms are taverns. Though Antony denies that now. Don’t ask questions. He’s become respectable. He told that woman of his to keep her belongings. He took away her keys under the Twelve Tables and threw her out. What a respected citizen! What a fine reputation! In his whole life, his most honorable act was divorcing an actress.

70 But how often he says, “I’m a consul, and I’m an Antony!” That means, “I’m a consul, and I’m utterly shameless!” Or, “I’m a consul, and I’m a complete scoundrel!” What else does “Antony” mean? Suppose the name stood for distinction. Your grandfather would surely have said at some point, “I’m a consul, and I’m an Antony.” He never did. My fellow consul, your uncle, would have said it too. Unless, of course, you’re the only Antony. But I’ll leave aside those offenses. They aren’t specific to the political side you used to batter the republic. I’ll return to your side itself. I mean the civil war. Your work gave it birth, fanned it, and set it going.