Philippicae

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.