When, O Catiline, do you mean to cease abusing our patience? How long is that madness of
 yours still to mock us? When is there to be an end of that unbridled audacity of yours,
 swaggering about as it does now? Do not the nightly guards placed on the Palatine Hill—do not
 the watches posted throughout the city—does not the alarm of the people, and the union of all
 good men—does not the precaution taken of assembling the senate in this most defensible
 place—do not the looks and countenances of this venerable body here present, have any effect
 upon you? Do you not feel that your plans are detected? Do you not see that your conspiracy is
 already arrested and rendered powerless by the knowledge which every one here possesses of it?
 What is there that you did last night, what the night before— where is it that you were—who was
 there that you summoned to meet you—what design was there which was adopted by you, with which
 you think that any one of us is unacquainted?

Shame on the age and on its principles! The senate is aware of these things; the consul sees
 them; and yet this man lives. Lives! aye, he comes even into the senate. He takes a part in the
 public deliberations; he is watching and marking down and checking off for slaughter every
 individual among us. And we, gallant men that we are, think that we are doing our duty to the
 republic if we keep out of the way of his frenzied attacks. 
 You ought, O Catiline, long ago to have been led to execution by command of the consul. That
 destruction which you have been long plotting against us ought to have already fallen on your
 own head.

What? Did not that most illustrious man, Publius Scipio, the Pontifex Maximus, in his
 capacity of a private citizen, put to death Tiberius Gracchus, though but slightly undermining
 the constitution? And shall we, who are the consuls, tolerate Catiline, openly desirous to
 destroy the whole world with fire and slaughter? For I pass over older instances, such as how
 Caius Servilius Ahala with his own hand slew Spurius Maelius when plotting a revolution in the
 state. There was—there was once such virtue in this republic, that brave men would repress
 mischievous citizens with severer chastisement than the most bitter enemy. For we have a
 resolution of the senate, a formidable and authoritative decree against you, O Catiline; the
 wisdom of the republic is not at fault, nor the dignity of this senatorial body. We, we
 alone,—I say it openly, —we, the consuls, are waiting in our duty.

The senate once passed a decree that Lucius Opimius, the consul, should take care that the
 republic suffered no injury. Not one night elapsed. There was put to death, on some mere
 suspicion of disaffection, Caius Gracchus, a man whose family had borne the most unblemished
 reputation for many generations. There was slain Marcus Fulvius, a man of consular rank, and
 all his children. By a like decree of the senate the safety of the republic was entrusted to
 Caius Marius and Lucius Valerius, the consuls. Did not the vengeance of the republic, did not
 execution overtake Lucius Saturninus, a tribune of the people, and Caius Servilius, the
 praetor, without the delay of one single day? But we, for these twenty days have been allowing
 the edge of the senate's authority to grow blunt, as it were. For we are in possession of a
 similar decree of the senate, but we keep it locked up in its parchment—buried, I may say, in
 the sheath; and according to this decree you ought, O Catiline, to be put to death this
 instant. You live,—and you live, not to lay aside, but to persist in your audacity. 
 I wish, O conscript fathers, to be merciful; I wish not to appear negligent amid such danger
 to the state; but I do now accuse myself of remissness and culpable inactivity.

A camp is pitched in Italy , at
 the entrance of Etruria, in hostility to the republic; the number of the enemy increases every
 day; and yet the general of that camp, the leader of those enemies, we see within the
 walls—yes, and even in the senate, —planning every day some internal injury to the republic.
 If, O Catiline, I should now order you to be arrested, to be
 put to death, I should, I suppose, have to fear lest all good men should say that I had acted
 tardily, rather than that any one should affirm that I acted cruelly. But yet this, which ought
 to have been done long since, I have good reason for not doing as yet; I will put you to death,
 then, when there shall be not one person possible to be found so wicked, so abandoned, so like
 yourself, as not to allow that it has been rightly done.

As
 long as one person exists who can dare to defend you, yet shall live; but you shall live as you
 do now, surrounded by my many and trusty guards, so that you shall not be able to stir one
 finger against the republic: many eyes and ears shall still observe and watch you, as they have
 hitherto done, though you shall not perceive them. 
 For what is there, O Catiline, that you can still expect, if night is not able to veil your
 nefarious meetings in darkness, and if private houses cannot conceal the voice of your
 conspiracy within their walls;—if everything is seen and displayed? Change your mind: trust me:
 forget the slaughter and conflagration you are meditating. You are hemmed in on all sides; all
 your plans are clearer than the day to us; let me remind you of them.

Do you recollect that on the 21st of October I said in the senate, that on a
 certain day, which was to be the 27th of October, C. Manlius, the satellite and servant of your
 audacity, would be in arms? Was I mistaken, Catiline, not only in so important, so atrocious,
 so incredible a fact, but, what is much more remarkable, in the very day? I said also in the
 senate that you had fixed the massacre of the nobles for the 28th of October, when many chief
 men of the senate had left Rome , not so much for the
 sake of saving themselves as of checking your designs. Can you deny that on that very day you
 were so hemmed in by my guards and my vigilance, that you were unable to stir one finger
 against the republic; when you said that you would be content with the flight of the rest, and
 the slaughter of us who remained?

What? when you made sure
 that you would be able to seize Praeneste on the
 first of November by a nocturnal attack, did you not find that that colony was fortified by my
 order, by my garrison, by my watchfulness and care? You do nothing, you plan nothing, you think
 of nothing which I not only do not hear, but which I do not see and know every particular of.
 
 Listen while I speak of the night before. You shall now see that I watch far more actively
 for the safety than you do for the destruction of the republic. I say that you came the night
 before (I will say nothing obscurely) into the Scythe-dealers' street, to the house of Marcus
 Lecca; that many of your accomplices in the same insanity and wickedness came here too. Do you
 dare to deny it? Why are silent? I will prove it if you do deny it; for I see here in the
 senate some men who were there with you.

O ye immortal gods, where on earth are we? in what city are we living? what constitution is
 ours? There are here,—here in our body, O conscript fathers, in this the most holy and
 dignified assembly of the whole world, men who meditate my death, and the death of all of us,
 and the destruction of this city, and of the whole world. I, the consul see them; I ask them
 their opinion about the republic, and I do not yet attack, even by words, those who ought to be
 put to death by the sword. You were, then, O Catiline, at Lecca's that night; you divided
 Italy into sections; you settled where every one was
 to go; you fixed whom you were to leave at Rome , whom
 you were to take with you; you portioned out the divisions of the city for conflagration; you
 undertook that you yourself would at once leave the city, and said that there was then only
 this to delay you, that I was still alive. Two Roman knights were found to deliver you from
 this anxiety, and to promise that very night, before daybreak, to slay me in my bed.

All this I knew almost before your meeting had broken up. I
 strengthened and fortified my house with a stronger guard; I refused admittance, when they
 came, to those whom you sent in the morning to salute me, and of whom I had foretold to many
 eminent men that they would come to me at that time. 
 As, then, this is the case, O Catiline, continue as you have begun. Leave the city at last
 the gates are open; depart. That Manlian camp of yours has been waiting too long for you as its
 general. And lead forth with you all your friends, or at least as many as you can; purge the
 city of your presence; you will deliver me from a great fear, when there is a wall between me
 and you. Among us you can dwell no longer—I will not bear it, I will not permit it, I will not
 tolerate it..

Great thanks are due to the immortal gods, and
 to this very Jupiter Stator, in whose temple we are, the most ancient protector of thus city,
 that we have already so often escaped so foul, so horrible, and so deadly an enemy to the
 republic. But the safety of the commonwealth must not be too often allowed to be risked on one
 man. As long as you, O Catiline, plotted against me while I was the consul elect, I defended
 myself not with a public guard, but by my own private diligence. When, in the next consular
 comitia , you wished to slay me when I was actually consul,
 and your competitors also, in the Campus Martius , I
 checked your nefarious attempt by the assistance and resources of my own friends, without
 exciting any disturbance publicly. In short, as often as you attacked me, I by myself opposed
 you, and that, too, though I saw that my ruin was connected with great disaster to the
 republic.

But now you are openly attacking the entire
 republic. 
 You are summoning to destruction and devastation the temples of the immortal gods, the houses
 of the city, the lives of all the citizens; in short, all Italy . Wherefore, since I do not yet venture to do that which is the best thing,
 and which belongs to my office and to the discipline of our ancestors, I will do that which is
 more merciful if we regard its rigour, and more expedient for the state. For if I order you to
 be put to death, the rest of the conspirators will still remain in the republic; if as I have
 long been exhorting you, you depart, your companions, those worthless dregs of the republic,
 will be drawn off from the city too.

What is the matter,
 Catiline? Do you hesitate to do that which I order you which you were already doing of your own
 accord? The consul orders an enemy to depart from the city. Do you ask me, Are you to go into
 banishment? I do not order it; but, if you consult me, I advise it. 
 For what is there, O Catiline, that can now afford you any pleasure in this city? for there
 is no one in it, except that band of profligate conspirators of yours, who does not fear
 you,—no one who does not hate you. What brand of domestic baseness is not stamped upon your
 life? What disgraceful circumstance is wanting to your infamy in your private affairs? From
 what licentiousness have your eyes, from what atrocity have your hands, from what iniquity has
 your whole body ever abstained? Is there one youth, when you have once entangled him in the
 temptations of your corruption, to whom you have not held out a sword for audacious crime, or a
 torch for licentious wickedness?

What? when lately by the death of your former wife you had made your house empty and ready
 for a new bridal, did you not even add another incredible wickedness to this wickedness? But I
 pass that over, and willingly allow it to be buried in silence, that so horrible a crime may
 not be seen to have existed in this city, and not to have been chastised. I pass over the ruin
 of your fortune, which you know is hanging over you against the ides of the very next month; I
 come to those things which relate not to the infamy of your private vices, not to your domestic
 difficulties and baseness, but to the welfare of the republic and to the lives and safety of us
 all.

Can the limit of this life, O Catiline, can the breath of
 this atmosphere be pleasant to you, when you know that there is not one man of those here
 present who is ignorant that you, on the last day of the year, when Lepidus and Tullus were
 consuls, stood in the assembly armed; that you had prepared your hand for the slaughter of the
 consuls and chief men of the state, and that no reason or fear of yours hindered your crime and
 madness, but the fortune of the republic? And I say no more of these things, for they are not
 unknown to every one. How often have you endeavoured to slay me, both as consul elect and as
 actual consul? how many shots of yours, so aimed that they seemed impossible to be escaped,
 have I avoided by some slight stooping aside, and some dodging, as it were, of my body? You
 attempt nothing, you execute nothing, you devise nothing that call be kept hid from me at the
 proper time; and yet you do not cease to attempt and to contrive.

How often already has that dagger of yours been wrested from your hands? how
 often has it slipped through them by some chance, and dropped down? and yet you cannot any
 longer do without it; and to what sacred mysteries it is consecrated and devoted by you I know
 not, that you think it necessary to plunge it in the body of the consul. 
 But now, what is that life of yours that you are leading? For I will speak to you not so as
 to seem influenced by the hatred I ought to feel, but by pity, nothing of which is due to you.
 You came a little while ago into the senate in so numerous an assembly, who of so many friends
 and connections of yours saluted you? If this in the memory of man never happened to any one
 else, are you waiting for insults by word of mouth, when you are overwhelmed by the most
 irresistible condemnation of silence? Is it nothing that at your arrival all those seats were
 vacated? that all the men of consular rank, who had often been marked out by you for slaughter,
 the very moment you sat down, left that part of the benches bare and vacant? With what feelings
 do you think you ought to bear this?

On my honour, if my
 slaves feared me as all your fellow-citizens fear you, I should think I must leave my house. Do
 not you think you should leave the city? If I saw that I was even undeservedly so suspected and
 bated by my fellow-citizens, I would rather flee from their sight than be gazed at by the
 hostile eyes of every one. And do you, who, from the consciousness of your wickedness, know
 that the hatred of all men is just and has been long due to you, hesitate to avoid the sight
 and presence of those men whose minds and senses you offend? If your parents feared and hated
 you, and if you could by no means pacify them, you would, I think, depart somewhere out of
 their sight. Now, your country, which is the common parent of all of us, hates and fears you,
 and has no other opinion of you, than that you are meditating parricide in her case; and will
 you neither feel awe of her authority, nor deference for her judgment, nor fear of her power?

And she, O Catiline, thus pleads with you, and after a
 manner silently speaks to you:—There has now for many years been no crime committed but by you;
 no atrocity has taken place without you; you alone unpunished and unquestioned have murdered
 the citizens, have harassed and plundered the allies; you alone have had power not only to
 neglect all laws and investigations, but to overthrow and break through them. Your former
 actions, though they ought not to have been borne, yet I did bear as well as I could; but now
 that I should be wholly occupied with fear of you alone, that at every sound I should dread
 Catiline, that no design should seem possible to be entertained against me which does not
 proceed from your wickedness, this is no longer endurable. Depart, then, and deliver me from
 this fear; that, if it be a just one, I may not be destroyed; if an imaginary one, that at
 least I may at last cease to fear.

If, as I have said, your country were thus to address you, ought she not to obtain her
 request, even if she were not able to enforce it? What shall I say of your having given
 yourself into custody? what of your having said, for the sake of avoiding suspicion, that you
 were willing to dwell in the house of Marcus Lepidus? And when you were not received by him,
 you dared even to come to me, and begged me to keep you in my house; and when you had received
 answer from me that I could not possibly be safe in the same house with you, when I considered
 myself in great danger as long as we were in the same city, you came to Quintus Metellus, the
 praetor, and being rejected by him, you passed on to your associate, that most excellent man,
 Marcus Marcellus, who would be, I suppose you thought, most diligent in guarding you, most
 sagacious hi suspecting you, and most bold in punishing you; but how far can we think that man
 ought to be from bonds and imprisonment who has already judged himself deserving of being given
 into custody?

Since, then, this is the case, do you hesitate, O Catiline, if you cannot remain here with
 tranquillity, to depart to some distant laud, and to trust your life, saved from just and
 deserved punishment, to flight and solitude? Make a motion, say you, to the senate, (for that
 is what you demand) and if thus body votes that you ought to go into banishment, you say that
 you will obey. I will not make such a motion, it is contrary to my principles, and yet I will
 let you see what these men think of you. Be gone from the city, O Catiline, deliver the
 republic from fear; depart into banishment, if that is the word you are waiting for. What now,
 O Catiline? Do you not perceive, do you not see the silence of these men; they permit it, they
 say nothing; why wait you for the authority of their words when you see their wishes in their
 silence?

But had I said the same to this excellent young man,
 Publius Sextius, or to that brave man, Marcus Marcellus, before this time the senate would
 deservedly have laid violent hands on me, consul though I be, in this very temple. But to you,
 Catiline, while they are quiet they approve, while they permit me to speak they vote, while
 they are silent they are loud and eloquent. And not they alone, whose authority forsooth is
 dear to you, though their lives are unimportant, but the Roman knights too, those most
 honourable and excellent men, and the other virtuous citizens who are now surrounding the
 senate, whose numbers you could see, whose desires you could know, and whose voices you a few
 minutes ago could hear,—yes, whose very hands and weapons I have for some time been scarcely
 able to keep off from you; but those, too, I will easily bring to attend you to the gates if
 you leave these places you have been long desiring to lay waste.

And yet, why am I speaking? that anything may change your purpose? that you may ever amend
 your life? that you may meditate flight or think of voluntary banishment? I wish the gods may
 give you such a mind; though I see, if alarmed at my words you bring your mind to go into
 banishment, what a storm of unpopularity hangs over me, if not at present, while the memory of
 your wickedness is fresh, at all events hereafter. But it is worthwhile to incur that, as long
 as that is but a private misfortune of my own, and is unconnected with the dangers of the
 republic. But we cannot expect that you should be concerned at your own vices, that you should
 fear the penalties of the laws, or that you should yield to the necessities of the republic,
 for you are not, O Catiline, one whom either shame can recall from infamy, or fear from danger,
 or reason from madness.

Wherefore, as I have said before, go forth, and if you to
 make me, your enemy as you call me, unpopular, go straight into banishment. I shall scarcely be
 able to endue all that will be said if you do so; I shall scarcely be able to support my load
 of unpopularity if you do go into banishment at the command of the consul; but if you wish
 serve my credit and reputation, go forth with your ill-omened band of profligates; betake
 yourself to Manilius, rouse up the abandoned citizens, separate yourself from the good ones,
 wage war against your country, exult in your impious banditti, so that you may not seem to have
 been driven out by me and gone to strangers, but to have gone invited to your own
 friends.

Though why should I invite you, by whom I know men have been already sent on to wait in arms
 for you at the forum Aurelium; who I know has fixed and agreed with Manlius upon a settled day;
 by whom I know that that silver eagle, which I trust will be ruinous and fatal to you and to
 all your friends, and to which there was set up in your house a shrine as it were of your
 crimes, has been already sent forward. Need I fear that you can long do without that which you
 used to worship when going out to do murder, and from whose altars you have often transferred
 your impious hand to the slaughter of citizens?

You will go at last where your unbridled and mad desire has been long hurrying you. And this
 causes you no grief; but an incredible pleasure. Nature has formed you, desire has trained you,
 fortune has preserved you for this insanity. Not only did you never desire quiet, but you never
 even desired any war but a criminal one; you have collected a baud of profligates and worthless
 men, abandoned not only by all fortune but even by hope.

Then what happiness will you enjoy with what delight will
 you exult in what pleasure will you revel! when in so numerous a body of friends, you neither
 hear nor see one good man. All the toils you have gone through have always pointed to this sort
 of life; your lying on the ground not merely to lie in wait to gratify your unclean desires,
 but even to accomplish crimes; your vigilance, not only when plotting against the sleep of
 husbands, but also against the goods of your murdered victims, have all been preparations for
 this. Now you have an opportunity of displaying your splendid endurance of hunger, of cold, of
 want of everything; by which in a short time you will find yourself worn out.

All this I effected when I procured your rejection from the consulship, that
 you should be reduced to make attempts on your country as an exile, instead of being able to
 distress it as consul, and that that which had been wickedly undertaken by you should be called
 piracy rather than war. 
 Know that I may remove and avert, O conscript fathers, any in the least reasonable complaint
 from myself; listen, I beseech you, carefully to what I say, and lay it up in your inmost
 hearts and minds. In truth, if my country, which is far dearer to me than my life,—if all
 Italy ,—if the whole republic were to address me,
 “Marcus Tullius, what are you doing? will you permit that man to depart whom you have
 ascertained to be an enemy? whom you see ready to become the general of the war? whom you know
 to be expected in the camp of the enemy as their chief; the author of all this wickedness, the
 head of the conspiracy, the instigator of the slaves and abandoned citizens, so that he shall
 seem not driven out of the city by you, but let loose by you against the city? Will you not
 order him to be thrown into prison, to be hurried off to execution, to be put to death with the
 most prompt severity? What hinders you? is it the customs of our ancestors?

But even private men have often in this republic slain mischievous
 citizens.—Is it the laws which have been passed about the punishment of Roman citizens? But in
 this city those who have rebelled against the republic have never had the rights of
 citizens.—Do you fear odium with posterity? You are showing fine gratitude to the Roman people
 which has raised you, a man known only by your own actions, of no ancestral renown, through all
 the degrees of honour at so early an age to the very highest office, if from fear of
 unpopularity or of any danger you neglect the safety of your fellow-citizens.

But if you have a fear of unpopularity, is that arising from the imputation
 of vigour and boldness, or that arising from that of inactivity and indecision most to be
 feared? When Italy is laid waste by war, when cities
 are attacked and houses in flames, do you not think that you will be then consumed by a perfect
 conflagration of hatred?” 
 To this holy address of the republic, and to the feelings of those men who entertain the same
 opinion, I will make this short answer:—If, O conscript fathers, I thought it best that
 Catiline should be punished with death, I would not have given the space of one hour to this
 gladiator to live in. If, forsooth, those excellent men and most illustrious cities not only
 did not pollute themselves, but even glorified themselves by the blood of Saturninus, and the
 Gracchi, and Flaccus, and many others of old time, surely I had no cause to fear lest for
 slaying this parricidal murderer of the citizens any unpopularity should accrue to me with
 posterity. And if it did threaten me to ever so great a degree, yet I have always been of the
 disposition to think unpopularity earned by virtue and glory, not unpopularity.

Though there are some men in this body who either do not see what threatens, or dissemble
 what they do see; who have fed the hope of Catiline by mild sentiments, and have strengthened
 the rising conspiracy by not believing it; influenced by whose authority many, and they not
 wicked, but only ignorant, if I punished him would say that I had acted cruelly and
 tyranically. But I know that if he arrives at the camp of Manlius to which he is going, there
 will be no one so stupid as not to see that there has been a conspiracy; no one so hardened as
 not to confess it. But if this man alone were put to death, I know that this disease of the
 republic would be only checked for awhile, not eradicated for ever. But if he banishes himself;
 and takes with him all his friends, and collects at one point all the ruined men from every
 quarter, then not only will this full-grown plague of the republic be extinguished and
 eradicated, but also the root and seed of all future evils

We have now for a long time, O conscript fathers, lived among these dangers and machinations
 of conspiracy; but somehow or other, the ripeness of all wickedness, and of this long-standing
 madness and audacity, has come to a head at the time of my consulship. But if this man alone is
 removed from this piratical crew, we may appear, perhaps, for a short time relieved from fear
 and anxiety, but the danger will settle down and lie hid in the veins and bowels of the
 republic. As it often happens that men afflicted with a severe disease, when they are tortured
 with heat and fever, if they drink cold water, seem at first to be relieved, but afterwards
 stiffer more and more severely; so this disease which is in the republic, if relieved by the
 punishment of this man, will only get worse and worse, as the rest will be still alive.

Wherefore, O conscript fathers, let the worthless be gone,—let them separate themselves from
 the good,—let them collect in one place,—let them, as I have often said before, be separated
 from us by a wall; let them cease to plot against the consul in his own house,—to surround the
 tribunal of the city praetor,—to besiege the senate-house with swords,—to prepare brands and
 torches to burn the city; let it, in short, be written on the brow of every citizen, what are
 his sentiments about the republic. I promise you this, O conscript fathers, that there shall be
 so much diligence in us the consuls, much authority in you, so much virtue in the Roman
 knights, so much unanimity in all good men, that you shall see everything made plain and
 manifest by the departure of Catiline,—everything checked and punished.

With these omens, O Catiline, be gone to your impious and nefarious war, to the great safety
 of the republic, to your own misfortune and injury, and to the destruction of those who have
 joined themselves to you in every wickedness and atrocity. Then do you, O Jupiter, who were
 consecrated by Romulus with the same auspices as this city, whom we rightly call the stay of
 this city and empire, repel this man and his companions from your altars and from the other
 temples,—from the houses and walls of the city,—from the lives and fortunes of all the
 citizens; and overwhelm all the enemies of good men, the foes of the republic, the robbers of
 Italy, men bound together by a treaty and infamous alliance of crimes, dead and alive, with
 eternal punishments.

At length, O Romans, we have dismissed from the city, or driven out, or, when he was
 departing of his own accord, we have pursued with words, Lucius Catiline, mad with audacity,
 breathing wickedness, impiously planning mischief to his country, threatening fire and sword to
 you and to this city. He is gone, he has departed, he has disappeared, he has rushed out. No
 injury will now be prepared against these walls within the walls themselves by that monster and
 prodigy of wickedness. And we have, without controversy, defeated him, the sole general of this
 domestic war. For now that dagger will no longer hover about our sides; we shall not be afraid
 in the campus, in the forum, in the senate-house,—yes, and within our own private walls, he was
 moved from his place when he was driven from the city. Now we shall openly carry on a regular
 war with an enemy without hindrance. Beyond all question we ruin the man; we have defeated him
 splendidly when we have driven him from secret treachery into open warfare.

But that he has not taken with him his sword red with blood as he
 intruded—that he has left us alive,—that we wrested the weapon from his hands,—that he has left
 the citizens safe and the city standing, what great and overwhelming grief must you think that
 this is to him. Now he lies prostrate, O Romans, and feels himself stricken down and abject,
 and often casts back his eyes towards this city, which he mourns over as snatched from his
 jaws, but which seems to me to rejoice at having vomited forth such a pest, and cast it out of
 doors.

But if there be any one of that disposition which all men should have, who yet blames me
 greatly for the very thing in which my speech exults and triumphs,—namely, that I did not
 arrest so capital mortal an enemy rather than let him go,—that is not my fault, O citizens, but
 the fault of the times. Lucius Catiline ought to have been visited with the severest
 punishment, and to have been put to death long since; and both the customs of our ancestors,
 and the rigour of my office, and the republic, demanded this of me; but how many, think you,
 were there who did not believe what I reported? how many who out of stupidity did not think so?
 how many who even defended him,—how many who, out of their own depravity, favoured him? If, in
 truth, I had thought that, if he were removed, all danger would he removed from you, I would
 long since have cut off Lucius Catiline, had it been at the risk, not only of my popularity,
 but even of my life.

But as I saw that, since the matter was not even then
 proved to all of you, if I had punished him with death, as he had deserved, I should be borne
 down by unpopularity, and so be unable to follow up his accomplices, I brought the business on
 to this point that you might be able to combat openly when you saw the enemy without disguise.
 But how exceedingly I think this enemy to be feared now that he is out of doors, you may see
 from this—that I am vexed even that be has gone from the city with but a small retinue. I wish
 he had taken with him all his forces. He has taken with him Tongillus, with whom he had been
 said to have a criminal intimacy, and Publicius, and Munatius, whose debts contracted in
 taverns could cause no great disquietude to the republic. He has left behind him others—you all
 know what men they are, how overwhelmed with debt, how powerful, how noble.

Therefore, with our Gallic legions, and with the levies which Quintus Metellus has raised in
 the Picenian and Gallic territory, and with these troops which are every day being got ready by
 us, I thoroughly despise that army composed of desperate old men, of clownish profligates, and
 uneducated spendthrifts; of those who have preferred to desert their bail rather than that
 army, and which will fall to pieces if I show them not the battle array of our army, but an
 edict of the praetor. I wish he had taken with him those soldiers of his, whom I see hovering
 about the forum, standing about the senate-house, even coming into the senate, who shine with
 ointment, who glitter in purple; and if they remain here, remember that that army is not so
 much to be feared by us as these men who have deserted the army. And they are the more to be
 feared, because they are aware that I know what they are thinking of and yet they are not
 influenced by it.

I know to whom Apulia has been allotted, who has Etruria, who the Picenian territory, who the
 Gallic district, who has begged for himself the office of spreading fire and sword by night
 through the city. They know that all the plans of the preceding night are brought to me. I laid
 them before the senate yesterday. Catiline himself was alarmed, and fled. Why do these men
 wait? Verily, they are greatly mistaken if they think that former lenity of mine will last
 forever. 
 What I have been waiting for, that I have gained,—namely, that you should all see that a
 conspiracy has been openly formed against the republic; unless, indeed, there be any one who
 thinks that those who are like Catiline do not agree with Catiline. There is not any longer
 room for lenity; the business itself demands severity. One thing, even now, I will grant,—let
 them depart, let them be gone. Let them not suffer the unhappy Catiline to pine away for want
 of them. I will tell them the road. He went by the Aurelian road. If they make haste, they will
 catch him by the evening.

O happy republic, if it can cast
 forth these dregs of the republic! Even now, when Catiline alone is got rid of; the republic
 seems to me relieved and refreshed; for what evil or wickedness can be devised or imagined
 which he did not conceive? What prisoner, what gladiator, what thief; what assassin, what
 parricide, what forger of wills, what cheat, what debauchee, what spendthrift, what adulterer,
 what abandoned woman, what corrupter of youth, what profligate, what scoundrel can be found in
 all Italy, who does not avow that he has been on terms of intimacy with Catiline? What murder
 has been committed for years without him? What nefarious act of infamy that has not been done
 by him?

But in what other man were there ever so many allurements for youth as in him, who both
 indulged in infamous love for others, and encouraged their infamous affections for himself,
 promising to some enjoyment of their lust, to others the death of their parents, and not only
 instigating them to iniquity, but even assisting them in it. But now, how suddenly had he
 collected, not only out of the city, but even out of the country, a number of abandoned men? No
 one, not only at Rome , but in every corner of
 Italy , was overwhelmed with debt whom he did not
 enlist in this incredible association of wickedness.

And, that you may understand the diversity of his pursuits and the variety of his designs,
 there was no one in any school of gladiators, at all inclined to audacity, who does not avow
 himself to be an intimate friend of Catiline,—no one on the stage, at all of a fickle and
 worthless disposition, who does not profess himself his companion. And he, trained in the
 practice of insult and wickedness, in enduring cold, and hunger, and thirst, and watching, was
 called a brave man by those fellows, while all the appliances of industry and instruments of
 virtue were devoted to lust and atrocity.

But if his companions follow him,—if the infamous herd of desperate men depart from the city,
 O happy shall we be, fortunate will be the republic, illustrious will be the renown of my
 consulship. For theirs is no ordinary insolence,—no common and endurable audacity. They think
 of nothing but slaughter, conflagration, and rapine. They have dissipated their patrimonies,
 they have squandered their fortunes. Money has long failed them, and now credit begins to fail;
 but the same desires remain which they had in their time of abundance. But if in their drinking
 and gambling parties they were content with feasts and harlots, they would be in a hopeless
 state indeed; but yet they might be endured. But who can bear this,—that indolent men should
 plot against the bravest,—drunkards against the sober,—men asleep against men awake,—men lying
 at feasts, embracing abandoned women, languid with wine, crammed with food, crowned with
 chaplets, reeking with ointments, worn out with lust, belch out in their discourse the murder
 of all good men, and the conflagration of the city?

But I am confident that some fate is hanging over these men;
 and that the punishment long since due to their iniquity, and worthlessness, and wickedness,
 and lust, is either visibly at hand or at least rapidly approaching. And if my consulship shall
 have removed, since it cannot cure them, it will have added, not some brief span, but many ages
 of existence to the republic. For there is no nation for us to fear,—no king who can make war
 on the Roman people. All foreign affairs are tranquilized, both by land and sea, by the valour
 of one man. Domestic war alone remains. The only plots against us are within our own walls,—the
 danger is within,—the enemy is within. We must war with luxury, with madness, with wickedness.
 For this war, O citizens, I offer myself as the general. I take on myself the enmity of
 profligate men. What can be cured, I will cure, by whatever means it may be possible. What must
 be cut away, I will not suffer to spread, to the ruin of the republic. Let them depart, or let
 them stay quiet; or if they remain in the city and in the same disposition as at present, let
 them expect what they deserve.

But there are men, O Romans, who say that Catiline has been driven by me into banishment. But
 if I could do so by a word, I would drive out those also who say so. Forsooth, that timid, that
 excessively bashful man could not bear the voice of the consul; as soon as he was ordered to go
 into banishment, he obeyed, he was quiet. Yesterday, when I had been all but murdered at my own
 house, I convoked the senate in the temple of Jupiter Stator; I related the whole affair to the
 conscript fathers; and when Catiline came thither, what senator addressed him? who saluted him?
 who looked upon him not so much even as an abandoned citizen, as an implacable enemy? Nay the
 chiefs of that body left that part of the benches to which he came naked and empty.

On this I, that violent consul, who drive citizens into
 exile by a word, asked of Catiline whether he had been at the nocturnal meeting at Marcus
 Lecca's, or not; when that most audacious man, convicted by his own conscience, was at first
 silent. I related all the other circumstances; I described what he had done that night, where
 he had been, what he had arranged for the next night, how the plan of the whole war had been
 laid down by him. When he hesitated, when he was convicted, I asked why he hesitated to go
 whither he had been long been preparing to go; when I knew that arms, that the axes, the
 fasces , and trumpets, and military standards, and that silver
 eagle to which he had made a shrine in his own house, had been sent on?

Did I drive him into exile who I knew had already entered upon war? I suppose
 Manlius, that centurion who has pitched his camp in the Faesulan district, has proclaimed war
 against the Roman people in his own name; and that camp is not now waiting for Catiline as its
 general, and he, driven indeed into exile, will go to Marseilles , as they say, and not to that camp. 
 O the hard lot of those, not only of those who govern, but even of those who save the
 republic. Now, if Lucius Catiline, hemmed in and rendered powerless by my counsels, by my
 toils, by my dangers, should on a sudden become alarmed, should change his designs, should
 desert his friends, should abandon his design of making war, should change his path from this
 course of wickedness and war, and betake himself to flight and exile, he will not be said to
 have been deprived by me of the arms of his audacity, to have been astounded and terrified by
 my diligence, to have been driven from his hope and from his enterprise, but, uncondemned and
 innocent, to have been driven into banishment by the consul by threats and violence; and there
 will be some who will seek to have him thought not worthless but unfortunate, and be considered
 not a most active consul, but a most cruel tyrant.

I am not
 unwilling, O Romans, to endure this storm of false and unjust unpopularity as long as the
 danger of this horrible and nefarious war is warded off from you. Let him be said to be
 banished by me as long as he goes into banishment; but, believe me, he will not go. I will
 never ask of the immortal gods, O Romans, for the sake of lightening my own unpopularity, for
 you to hear that Lucius Catiline is leading an army of enemies, and is hovering about in arms;
 but yet in three days you will hear it. And I much more fear that it will be objected to me
 some day or other, that I have let him escape, rather than that I have banished him. But when
 there are men who say he has been banished because he has gone away, what would these men say
 if he had been put to death?

Although those men who keep saying that Catiline is going to Marseilles do not complain of this so much as they fear it; for there is not one
 of them so inclined to pity, as not to prefer that he should go to Manlius rather than to
 Marseilles . But he, if he had never before planned
 what he is now doing, yet would rather be slain while living as a bandit, than live as an
 exile; but now, when nothing has happened to him contrary to his own wish and design,—except,
 indeed, that he has left Rome while we are alive,—let
 us wish rather that he may go into exile than complain of it.

But why are we speaking so long about one enemy; and about that enemy who now avows that he
 is one; and whom I now do not fear, because, as I have always wished, a wall is between us; and
 are saying nothing about those who dissemble, who remain at Rome , who are among us? Whom, indeed, if it were by any means possible, I should
 be anxious not so much to chastise as to cure, and to make friendly to the republic; nor, if
 they will listen to me, do I quite know why that may not be. For I will tell you, O Romans, of
 what classes of men those forces are made up, and then, if I can, I will apply to each the
 medicine of my advice and persuasion.

There is one class of them, who, with enormous debts, have
 still greater possessions, and who can by no means be detached from their affection to them. Of
 these men the appearance is most respectable, for they are wealthy, but their intention and
 their cause are most shameless. Will you be rich in lands, in houses, in money, in slaves, in
 all things, and yet hesitate to diminish your possessions to add to your credit? What are you
 expecting? War? What! in the devastation of all things, do you believe that your own
 possessions will be held sacred? do you expect an abolition of debts? They are mistaken who
 expect that from Catiline. There may be schedules made out, owing to my exertions, but they
 will be only catalogues of sale. Nor can those who have possessions be safe by any other means;
 and if they had been willing to adopt this plan earlier, and not, as is very foolish, to
 struggle on against usury with the profits of their farms, we should have them now richer and
 better citizens. But I think these men are the least of all to be dreaded, because they can
 either be persuaded to abandon their opinions, or if they cling to them, they seem to me more
 likely to form wishes against the republic than to bear arms against it.

There is another class of them, who, although they are harassed by debt, yet are expecting
 supreme power; they wish to become masters. They think that when the republic is in confusion
 they may gain those honours which they despair of when it is in tranquillity. And they must, I
 think, be told the same as every one else,—to despair of obtaining what they are aiming at;
 that in the first place, I myself am watchful for, am present to, am providing for the
 republic. Besides that, there is a high spirit in the virtuous citizens, great unanimity, great
 numbers, and also a great body of troops. Above all that, the immortal gods will stand by and
 bring aid to this invincible nation, this most illustrious empire, this most beautiful city,
 against such wicked violence. And if they had already got that which they with the greatest
 madness wish for, do they think that in the ashes of the city and blood of the citizens, which
 in their wicked and infamous hearts they desire, they will become consuls and dictators and
 even kings? Do they not see that they are wishing for that which, if they were to obtain it,
 must be given up to some fugitive slave, or to some gladiator?

There is a third class, already touched by age, but still vigorous from constant exercise; of
 which class is Manlius himself; whom Catiline is now succeeding. These are men of those
 colonies which Sulla established at Faesulae ,
 which I know to be composed, on the whole, of excellent citizens and brave men; but yet these
 are colonists, who, from becoming possessed of unexpected and sudden wealth, boast themselves
 extravagantly and insolently; these men, while they build like rich men, while they delight in
 farms, in litters, in vast families of slaves, in luxurious banquets, have incurred such great
 debts, that, if they would be saved, they must raise Sulla from the dead; and they have even
 excited some countrymen, poor and needy men, to entertain the same hopes of plunder as
 themselves. And all these men, O Romans, I place in the same class of robbers and banditti.
 But, I warn them, let them cease to be mad, and to think of proscriptions and dictatorships;
 for such a horror of these times is ingrained into the city, that not even men, but it seems to
 me that even the very cattle would refuse to bear them again.

There is a fourth class, various, promiscuous and turbulent; who indeed are now overwhelmed;
 who will never recover themselves; who, partly from indolence, partly from managing their
 affairs badly, partly from extravagance, are embarrassed by old debts; and worn out with bail
 bonds, and judgments, and seizures of their goods, are said to be betaking themselves in
 numbers to that camp both from the city and the country. These men I think not so much active
 soldiers as lazy insolvents; who, if they cannot stand at first, may fall, but fall so, that
 not only the city but even their nearest neighbours know nothing of it. For I do not understand
 why, if they cannot live with honour, they should wish to die shamefully; or wily they think
 they shall perish with less pain in a crowd, than if they perish by themselves.

There is a fifth class, of parricides, assassins, in short of all infamous characters, whom I
 do not wish to recall from Catiline, and indeed they cannot be separated from him. Let them
 perish in their wicked war, since they are so numerous that a prison cannot contain them. 
 There is a last class, last not only in number but in the sort of men and in their way of
 life; the especial body-guard of Catiline, of his levying; yes, the friends of his embraces and
 of his bosom; whom you see with carefully combed hair, glossy, beardless, or with well-trimmed
 beards; with tunics with sleeves, or reaching to the ankles; clothed with veils, not with
 robes; all the industry of whose life, all the labour of whose watchfulness, is expended in
 suppers lasting till daybreak.

In these bands are all the gamblers, all the adulterers, all the unclean and shameless
 citizens. These boys, so witty and delicate, have learnt not only to love and to be loved, not
 only to sing and to dance, but also to brandish daggers and to administer poisons; and unless
 they are driven out, unless they die, even should Catiline die, I warn you that the school of
 Catiline would exist in the republic. But what do those wretches want? Are they going to take
 their wives with them to the camp? how can they do without them, especially in these nights?
 and how will they endure the Apennines , and these
 frosts, and this snow? unless they think that they will bear the winter more easily because
 they have been in the habit of dancing naked at their feasts. O war much to be dreaded, when
 Catiline is going to have his bodyguard of prostitutes!

Array now, O Romans, against these splendid troops of Catiline, your guards and your armies;
 and first of all oppose to that worn-out and wounded gladiator your consuls and generals; then
 against that banished and enfeebled troop of ruined men lead out the flower and strength of all
 Italy instantly the cities of the colonies and
 municipalities will match the rustic mounds of Catiline; and I will not condescend to compare
 the rest of your troops and equipments and guards with the want and destitution of that
 highwayman.

But if, omitting all these things in which we
 are rich and of which he is destitute,—the senate, the Roman knights, the people, the city, the
 treasury, the revenues, all Italy , all the provinces,
 foreign nations,—if I say, omitting all these things, we choose to compare the causes
 themselves which are opposed to one another, we may understand from that alone how thoroughly
 prostrate they are. For on the one side are fighting modesty, on the other wantonness; on the
 one chastity, on the other uncleanness; on the one honesty, on the other fraud; on the one
 piety, on the other wickedness; on the one consistency, on the other insanity; on the one
 honour, on the other baseness; on the one continence, on the other lust; in short, equity,
 temperance, fortitude, prudence, all the virtues contend against iniquity with luxury, against
 indolence, against rashness, against all the vices; lastly, abundance contends against
 destitution, good plans against baffled designs, wisdom against madness, well-founded hope
 against universal despair. In a contest and war of this sort, even if the zeal of men were to
 fail, will not the immortal gods compel such numerous and excessive vices to be defeated by
 these most eminent virtues?

And as this is the case, O Romans, as I have said before, defend your house with guards and
 vigilance. I have taken care and made arrangements that there shall be sufficient
 protection for the city without distressing you and without any tumult. All the colonists and
 citizens of your municipal towns, being informed by me of this nocturnal sally of Catiline,
 will easily defend their cities and territories; the gladiators which he thought would be his
 most numerous and most trusty band, although they are better disposed than part of the
 patricians, will be held in cheek by our power. Quintus Metellus, whom I, making provision for
 this, sent on to the Gallic and Picenian territory, will either overwhelm the man, or will
 prevent all his motions and attempts; but with respect to the arrangement of all other matters,
 and maturing and acting on our plans, we shall consult the senate, which, as you are aware, is
 convened.

Now once more I wish those who have remained in the city, and who, contrary to the safety of
 the city and of all of you, have been left in the city by Catiline, although they are enemies,
 yet because they were born citizens, to be warned again and again by me. If my lenity has
 appeared to any one too remiss, it has been only waiting that that might break out which was
 lying hid. As to the future, I cannot now forget that this is my country, that I am the consul
 of these citizens; that I must either live with them, or die for them. There is no guard at the
 gate, no one plotting against their path; if any one wishes to go, he can provide for himself;
 but if any one stirs in the city, and if I detect not only any action, but any attempt or
 design against the country, he shall feel that there are in this city vigilant consuls, eminent
 magistrates, a brave senate, arms, and prisons; which our ancestors appointed as the avengers
 of nefarious and convicted crimes.

And all this shall be so done, O Romans, that affairs of the greatest importance shall be
 transacted with the least possible disturbance; the greatest dangers shall be avoided without
 any tumult; an internal civil war the most cruel and terrible in the memory of man, shall be
 put an end to by me alone in the robe of peace acting as general and commander-in-chief. And
 this I will so arrange, O Romans, that if it can be by any means managed, even the most
 worthless man shall not suffer the punishment of his crimes in this city. But if the violence
 of open audacity, if danger impending over the republic drives me of necessity from this
 merciful disposition, at all events I will manage this, which seems scarcely even to be hoped
 for in so great and so treacherous a war, that no good man shall fall, and that you may all be
 saved by the punishment of a few.

And I promise you this, O Romans, relying neither on my own prudence, nor on human counsels,
 but on many and manifest intimations of the will of the immortal gods; under whose guidance I
 first entertained this hope and this opinion; who are now defending their temples and the
 houses of the city, not afar off, as they were used to, from a foreign and distant enemy, but
 here on the spot, by their own divinity and present help. And you, O Romans, ought to pray to
 and implore them to defend from the nefarious wickedness of abandoned citizens, now that all
 the forces of all enemies are defeated by land and sea, this city which they have ordained to
 be the most beautiful and flourishing of all cities.

You see this day, O Romans, the republic, and all your lives, your goods, your fortunes, your
 wives and children, this home of most illustrious empire, thus most fortunate and beautiful
 city, by the great love of the immortal gods for you, by my labours and counsels and dangers,
 snatched from fire and sword, and almost from the very jaws of fate, and preserved and restored
 to you.

And if those days on which we are preserved are not less
 pleasant to us, or less illustrious, than those on which we are born, because the joy of being
 saved is certain, the good fortune of being born uncertain, and because we are born without
 feeling it, but we are preserved with great delight; yes; since we have, by our affection and
 by our good report, raised to the immortal gods that Romulus who built this city, he, too, who
 has preserved this city, built by him, and embellished as you see it, ought to be held in
 terror by you and your posterity; for we have extinguished flames which were almost laid under
 and placed around the temples and shrines, and houses and walls of the whole city; we have
 turned the edge of swords drawn against the republic, and have turned aside their points from
 your throats.

And since all this has been displayed in the
 senate, and made manifest, and detected by me, I will now explain it briefly, that you, O
 citizens, that are as yet ignorant of it, and are in suspense, may be able to see how great the
 danger was, how evident and by what means it was detected and arrested. First of all, since
 Catiline, a few days ago, burst out of the city, when he had left behind the companions of his
 wickedness, the active leaders of this infamous war, I have continually watched and taken care,
 O Romans, of the means by which we might be safe amid such great and such carefully concealed
 treachery. 
 Further, when I drove Catiline out of the city, (for I do not fear the unpopularity of this
 expression, when that is more to be feared that I should be blamed because he has departed
 alive,) but then when I wished him to be removed, I thought either that the rest of the band of
 conspirators would depart with him, or that they who remained would be weak and powerless
 without him.

And I, as I saw that those whom I knew to be inflamed with the greatest madness and
 wickedness were among us, and had remained at Rome, spent ail my nights and days in taking care
 to know and see what they were doing, and what they were contriving that, since what I said
 would, from the incredible enormity of the wickedness, make less impression on your ears, I
 might so detect the whole business that you might with all your hearts provide for your safety,
 when you saw the crime with your own eyes. Therefore, when I found that the ambassadors of the
 Allobroges had been tampered with by Publius Lentulus, for the sake of exciting a Transalpine
 war and commotion in Gaul, and that they, on their return to Gaul, had been sent with letters
 and messages to Catiline on the same road, and that Vulturcius had been added to them as a
 companion, and that he too had had letters given him for Catiline, I thought that an
 opportunity wits given me of contriving what was most difficult, and which I was always wishing
 the immortal gods might grant, that the whole business might be manifestly detected not by me
 alone, but by the senate also, and by you.

Therefore, yesterday I summoned Lucius Flaccus and C. Pomtinus, the praetors, brave men and
 well-affected to the republic. I explained to them the whole matter, and showed them what I
 wished to have done. But they, full of noble and worthy sentiments towards the republic,
 without hesitation, and without any delay, undertook the business, and when it was evening,
 went secretly to the Mulvian bridge, and there so distributed themselves in the nearest villas,
 that the Tiber and the bridge was between them. And they took to the same place, without any
 one having the least suspicion of it, many brave men, and I had sent many picked young men of
 the prefecture of Reate, whose assistance I constantly employ in the protection of the
 republic, armed with swords.

In the meantime, about the end
 of the third watch, when the ambassadors of the Allobroges, with a great retinue and Vulturcius
 with them, began to come upon the Mulvian bridge, an attack is made upon them; swords are drawn
 both by them and by our people; the matter was understood by the praetors alone, but was
 unknown to the rest. 
 Then, by the intervention of Pomtinus and Flaccus, the fight which had begun was put an end
 to; all the letters which were in the hands of the whole company are delivered to the praetors
 with time seals unbroken; the men themselves are arrested and brought to me at daybreak. And I
 immediately summoned that most worthless contriver of all this wickedness, Gabinius, as yet
 suspecting nothing; after him, P. Statilius is sent for, and after him Cethegus; but Lentulus
 was a long time in coming,—I suppose, because, contrary to his custom, he had been up a long
 time the night before, writing letters.

But when those most noble and excellent men of the whole city, who, hearing of the matter,
 came in crowds to me in the morning, thought it best for me to open the letters before I
 related the matter to the senate, lest, if nothing were found in them, so great a disturbance
 might seem to have been caused to the state for nothing, I said I would never so act as shrink
 from referring matter of public danger to the public council. In truth if, O Romans, these
 things which had been reported to me had not been found in them, yet I did not think I ought,
 in such a crisis of the republic, to be afraid of the imputation of over-diligence.

I quickly summoned a full senate, as you saw; and meantime, without any
 delay, by the advice of the Allobroges, I sent Caius Sulpicius the praetor, a brave man, to
 bring whatever arms he could find in the house of Cethegus, whence he did bring a great number
 of swords and daggers. 
 I introduced Vulturcius without the Gauls. By the command of the senate, I pledged him the
 public faith for his safety. I exhorted him fearlessly to tell all he knew. Then, when he had
 scarcely recovered himself from his great alarm, he said: that he had messages and letters for
 Catiline, from Publius Lentulus, to avail himself of the guard of the slaves, and to come
 towards the city with his army as quickly as possible; and that was to be done with the
 intention that, when they had set fire to the city on all sides as it had been arranged and
 distributed, and had made a great massacre of the citizens, he might be at hand to catch those
 who fled, and to join himself to the leaders within the city.

But the Gauls being introduced, said that an oath had been administered to them,
 and letters given them by Publius Lentulus, Cethegus, and Statilius, for their nation; and that
 they had been enjoined by them, and by Lucius Cassius, to send cavalry into Italy as early as
 possible; that infantry should not be wanting; and that Lentulus had assured him, from the
 Sibylline oracles and the answers of soothsayers, that he was that third Cornelius to whom the
 kingdom and sovereignty over this city was fated to come; that Cinna and Sulla had been before
 him; and that he had also said that was the year destined to the destruction of this city and
 empire, being the tenth year after the acquittal of the virgins, and the twentieth after the
 burning of the Capitol.

But they said there had been this
 dispute between Cethegus and the rest,—that Lentulus and others thought it best that the
 massacre should take place and the city be burnt at the Saturnalia, but that Cethegus thought
 it too long to wait. 
 And, not to detain you, O Romans, we ordered the letters to be brought forward which were
 said to have been given them by each of the men. First I showed his seal to Cethegus; he
 recognised it: we cut the thread; we read the letter. It was written with his own hand: that he
 would do for the senate and people of the Allobroges what he had promised their ambassadors;
 and that he begged them also to do what their ambassadors had arranged. Then Cethegus, who a
 little before had made answer about the swords and daggers which had been found in his house,
 and had said that he had always been fond of fine arms, being stricken down and dejected at the
 reading of his letters, convicted by his own conscience, became suddenly silent. Statilius,
 being introduced, owned his handwriting and his seal. His letters were read, of nearly the same
 tenor: he confessed it. Then I showed Lentulus his letters, and asked him whether he recognised
 the seal? He nodded assent. But it is, said I, a well-known seal;—the likeness of your
 grandfather, a most illustrious man, who greatly loved his country and his fellow-citizens; and
 it even though silent, ought to have called you back from such wickedness.

Letters are read of the same tenor to the senate and people of the Allobroges. I offered him
 leave, if he wished to say anything of these matters: and at first he declined to speak; but a
 little afterwards, when the whole examination had been gone through and concluded, he rose. He
 asked the Gauls what he had had to do with them? why they had come to his house? and he asked
 Vulturcius too. And when they had answered him briefly and steadily, under whose guidance they
 had come to him, and how often; and when they asked him whether he had said nothing to them
 about the Sibylline oracles, then he on a sudden, mad with wickedness, showed how great was the
 power of conscience; for though he might have denied it, he suddenly, contrary to every one's
 expectation confessed it: so not only did his genius and skill in oratory, for which he was
 always eminent, but even through the power of his manifest and detected wickedness, that
 impudence in which he surpassed all men, and audacity deserted him.

But Vulturcius on a sudden ordered the letters to be
 produced and opened which he said had been given to him for Catiline, by Lentulus. And though
 Lentulus was greatly agitated at that, yet he acknowledged his seal and his handwriting; but
 the letter was anonymous, and ran thus:—“Who I am you will know from him whom I have sent to
 you: take care to behave like a man, and consider to what place you have proceeded, and provide
 for what is now necessary for you: take care to associate to yourself the assistance of every
 one, even of the powerless.” Then Gabinius being introduced, when at first he had begun to
 answer impudently, at last denied nothing of those things which the Gauls alleged against him.

And to me, indeed, O Romans, though the letters, the seals,
 the handwriting, and the confession of each individual seemed most certain indications and
 proofs of wickedness, yet their colour, their eyes, their countenance, their silence, appeared
 more certain still; for they stood so stupefied, they kept their eyes so fixed on the ground,
 at times looking stealthily at one another, that they appeared now not so much to be informed
 against by others as to be informing against themselves. 
 Having produced and divulged these proofs, O Romans, I consulted the senate what ought to be
 done for the interests of the republic. Vigorous and fearless opinions were delivered by the
 chief men, which the senate adopted without any variety; and since the decree of the senate is
 not yet written out, I will relate to you from memory, O citizens, what the senate has decreed.

First of all, a vote of thanks to me is passed in the most
 honourable words, because the republic has been delivered from the greatest dangers by my
 valour and wisdom, and prudence. Then Lucius Flaccus and Caius Pomtinus, the
 praetors, are deservedly and rightly praised, because I had availed myself of their brave and
 loyal assistance. And also, praise is given to that brave man, my colleague, because he had
 removed from his counsels, and from the counsels of the republic, these who had been
 accomplices in this conspiracy. And they voted that Publius Lentulus, when he had abdicated the
 praetorship, should be given into custody; and also, that Caius Cethegus, Lucius Statilius,
 Publius Gabinius, who were all present, should be given into custody: and the same decree was
 passed against Lucius Cassius, who had begged for himself the office of burning the city;
 against Marcus Caparius, to whom it had been proved that Apulia had been allotted for the
 purpose of exciting disaffection among the shepherds; against Publius Furius, who belongs to
 the colonies which Lucius Sulla led to Faesulae; against Quintus Manlius Chilo, who was always
 associated with this man Furius in his tampering with the Allobroges; against Publius Umbrenus,
 a freedman, by whom it was proved that the Gauls were originally brought to Gabinius. 
 And the senate, O citizens, acted with such lenity, that, out of so great a conspiracy, and
 such a number and multitude of domestic enemies, it thought that since the republic was saved,
 the minds of the rest might be restored to a healthy state by the punishment of nine most
 abandoned men.

And also a supplication was decreed in my name, (which is the first time since the building of
 the city that such an honour has ever been paid to a man in a civil capacity,) to the immortal
 gods, for their singular kindness. And it was decreed in these words, “because I had delivered
 the city from conflagrations, the citizens from massacre, and Italy from war.” And if this
 supplication be compared with others, O citizens, there is this difference between them,—that
 all others have been appointed because of the successes of the republic; this one alone for its
 preservation. And that which was the first thing to be done, has been done and executed; for
 Publius Lentulus, though, being convicted by proofs and, by his own confession, by the judgment
 of the senate he had lost not only the rights of a praetor but also those of a citizen, still
 resigned his office; so that though Caius Marcius, that most illustrious of men, had no
 scruples about putting to death Caius Glaucius the praetor against whom nothing had been
 decreed by name, still we are relieved from that scruple in the case of Publius Lentulus, who
 is now a private individual.

Now, since, O citizens you have the nefarious leaders of this most wicked and dangerous war
 taken prisoners and in your grasp, you ought to think that all the resources of Catiline,—all
 his hopes and all his power, now that these dangers of the city are warded off, have fallen to
 pieces. And, indeed, when I drove him from the city I foresaw in my mind, O citizens, that if
 Catiline were removed, I had no cause to fear either the drowsiness of Publius Lentulus, or the
 fat of Lucius Cassius, or the mad rashness of Cassius Cethegus. He alone was to be feared of
 all these men, and that, only as long as he was within the walls of the city. He knew
 everything, he had access to everybody. He had the skill and the audacity to address, to tempt
 and to tamper with every one. He had acuteness suited to crime; and neither tongue nor hand
 ever failed to support that acuteness. Already he had men he could rely on chosen and
 distributed for the execution of all other business and when he had ordered anything to be done
 he did not think it was done on that account. There was nothing to which he did not personally
 attend and see to,—for which he did not watch and toil. He was able to endure cold, thirst, and
 hunger.

Unless I had driven this man, so active, so ready, so audacious, so crafty, so vigilant in
 wickedness, so industrious in criminal exploits, from his plots within the city to the open
 warfare of the camp, (I will express my honest opinion, O citizens,) I should not easily have
 removed from your necks so vast a weight of evil. He would not have determined on the
 Saturnalia to massacre you he would
 not have announced the destruction of the republic, and even the day of its doom
 so long beforehand,—he would never have allowed his seal and his letters, the undeniable
 witnesses of his guilt, to be taken, which now, since he is absent, has been so done that no
 larceny in a private house has ever been so thoroughly and clearly detected as this vast
 conspiracy against the republic. But if Catiline had remained in the city to this day,
 although, as long as he was so, I met all his designs and withstood them; yet, to say the
 least, we should have had to fight with him, and should never, while he remained as an enemy in
 the city, have delivered the republic from such dangers, with such ease, such tranquillity, and
 such silence.

Although all these things, O Romans, have been so managed by men that they appear to have
 been done and provided for by the order and design of the immortal gods; and as we may
 conjecture this because the direction of such weighty affairs scarcely appears capable of
 having been carried out by human wisdom; so, too, they have at this time so brought us present
 aid and assistance, that we could almost behold them without eyes. For to say nothing of those
 things, namely, the firebrands seen in the west in the night time, and the heat of the
 atmosphere,—to pass over the falling of thunderbolts and the earthquakes,—to say nothing of all
 the other portents which have taken place in such number during my consulship, that the
 immortal gods themselves have been seeming to predict what is now taking place; yet, at all
 events, this which I am about to mention, O Romans, must be neither passed over nor omitted.

For you recollect, I suppose, when Cotta and Torquatus were consuls, that many towers in the
 Capitol were struck with lightning, when both the images of the immortal gods were moved, and
 the statues of many ancient men were thrown down, and the brazen tablets on which the laws were
 written were melted. Even Romulus, who built this city, was struck, which, you recollect, stood
 in the Capitol, a gilt statue, little and sucking, and clinging to the teats of the wolf. And
 when at this time the soothsayers were assembled out of all Etruria, they said that slaughter,
 and conflagration, and the overthrow of the laws, and civil and domestic war, and the fall of
 the whole city and empire was at hand, unless the immortal gods, being appeased in every
 possible manner, by their own power turned aside, as I may say, the very fates themselves.

Therefore, according to their answers, games were celebrated for ten days, nor was anything
 omitted which might tend to the appeasing of the gods. And they enjoined also that we should
 make a greater statue of Jupiter, and place it in a lofty situation, and (contrary to what had
 been done before) turn it towards the east. And they said that they hoped that if that statue
 which you now behold looked upon the rising of the sun, and the forum, and the senate-house,
 that those designs which were secretly formed against the safety of the city and empire would
 be brought to light so as to be able to be thoroughly seen by the senate and by the Roman
 people. And the consuls ordered it to be so placed; but so great was the delay in the work,
 that it was never set up by the former consuls nor by us before this day.

Here who, O Romans can there be so obstinate against the
 truth, so headstrong, so void of sense, as to deny that all these things which we see, and
 especially this city, is governed by the divine authority and power of the immortal gods?
 Forsooth, when this answer had been given, that massacre, and conflagration, and ruin was
 prepared for the republic; and that, too, by profligate citizens, which, from the enormity of
 the wickedness, appeared incredible to some people, you found that it had not only been planned
 by wicked citizens, but had even been undertaken and commenced. And is not this fact so present
 that it appears to have taken place by the express will of the good and mighty Jupiter, that,
 when this day, early in the morning, both the conspirators and their accusers were being led by
 my command through the forum to the Temple of Concord, at that very time the statue was being
 erected? And when it was set up and turned towards you and towards the senate the senate and
 you yourselves saw everything which had been planned against the universal safety brought to
 light and made manifest.

And on this account they deserve even greater hatred and
 greater punishment, for having attempted to apply their fatal and wicked fire, not only to your
 houses and homes, but even to the shrines and temples of the Gods. And if I were to say that it
 was I who resisted them, I should take too much to myself and ought not to be borne. He—he,
 Jupiter, resisted them, He determined that the Capitol should be safe, he saved these temples,
 he saved this city, he saved all of you. It is under the guidance of the immortal
 gods, O Romans, that I have cherished the intention and desires which I have, and have arrived
 at such undeniable proofs. Surely, that tampering with the Allobroges would never have taken
 place, so important a matter would never have been so madly entrusted, by Lentulus and the rest
 of our internal enemies, to strangers and foreigners, such letters would never have been
 written, unless all prudence had been taken by the immortal gods from such terrible audacity.
 What shall I say? That Gauls, men from a state scarcely at peace with us, the only nation
 existing which seems both to be able to make war on the Roman people, and not to be unwilling
 to do so,—that they should disregard the hope of empire and of the greatest success voluntarily
 offered to them by patricians; and should prefer your safety to their own power—do you not
 think that that was caused by divine interposition? especially when they could have destroyed
 us, not by fighting, but by keeping silence.

Wherefore, O citizens, since a supplication has been decreed at all the altars, celebrate
 those days with your wives and children; for many just and deserved honours have been often
 paid to the immortal gods, but juster ones never. For you have been snatched from a most cruel
 and miserable destruction, and you have been snatched from it without slaughter, without
 bloodshed, without an army, without a battle. You have conquered in the garb of peace, with me
 in the garb of peace for your only general and commander.

Remember, O citizens, all civil dissensions, and not only
 those which you have heard of but these also which you yourselves remember and have seen.
 Lucius Sulla crushed Publius Sulpicius ; he drove from the city Caius Marius the
 guardian of this city; and of many other brave men some he drove from the city, and some he
 murdered. Cnaeus Octavius the consul drove his colleague by force of arms out of the city; all
 this place was crowded with heaps of carcasses and flowed with the blood of citizens;
 afterwards Cinna and Marius got the upper hand; and then most illustrious men were put to
 death, and the spirits of the state were extinguished. Afterwards Sulla avenged the cruelty of
 this victory; it is needless to say with what a diminution of the citizens and with what
 disasters to the republic Marcus Lepidus disagreed with that most eminent and brave man
 Quintus, Catulus. His death did not cause as much grief to the republic as that of the others.

And these dissensions, O Romans, were such as concerned not
 the destruction of the republic, but only a change in the constitution. They did not wish that
 there should be no republic, but that they themselves should be the chief men in that which
 existed; nor did they desire that the city should be burnt, but that they themselves should
 flourish in it. And yet all those dissensions, none of which aimed at the destruction of the
 republic, were such that they were to be terminated not by a reconciliation and concord, but
 only by internecine war among the citizens. But in this war alone, the greatest and most cruel
 in the memory of man,—a war such as even the countries of the barbarians have never waged with
 their own tribes,—a war in which this law was laid down by Lentulus, and Catiline, and Cassius
 and Cethegus that every one, who could live in safety as long as the city remained in safety,
 should be considered as an enemy, in this war I have so managed matters, O Romans that you
 should all be preserved in safety; and though your enemies had thought that only such a number
 of the citizens would be left as had held out against an interminable massacre and only so much
 of the city as the flames could not devour, I have preserved both the city and the citizens
 unhurt and undiminished.

And for these exploits, important as they are, O Romans, I
 ask from you no reward of virtue, no badge of honour, no monument of my glory, beyond the
 everlasting recollection of this day. In your minds I wish all my triumphs, all my decorations
 of honour; the monuments of my glory, the badges of my renown, to be stored and laid up.
 Nothing voiceless can delight me, nothing silent,—nothing, in short, such as even those who are
 less worthy can obtain. In your memory, O Romans, my name shall be cherished, in your
 discourses it shall grow, in the monuments of your letters it shall grow old and strengthen;
 and I feel assured that the same day which I hope will be for everlasting; will
 be remembered for ever, so as to tend both to the safety of the city and the recollection of my
 consulship; and that it will be remembered that there existed in this city at the same time two
 citizens, one of whom limited the boundaries of your empire only by the regions of heaven, not
 by those of the earth, while the other preserved the abode and home of that same empire.

But since the fortune and condition of those exploits which I have performed is not the same
 with that of those men who have directed foreign wars—because I must live among those whom I
 have defeated and subdued, they have left their enemies either slain or crushed,—it is your
 business, O Romans, to take care, if their good deeds are a benefit to others, that mine shall
 never be an injury to me. For that the wicked and profligate designs of audacious men shall not
 be able to injure you, I have taken care; it is your business to take care that they do not
 injure me. Although, O Romans, no injury can be done to me by them,—for there is a great
 protection in the affection of all good men, which is procured for me for ever; there is great
 dignity in the republic, which will always silently defend me; there is great power in
 conscience, and those who neglect it when they desire to attack me will destroy themselves.

There is moreover that disposition in me, O Romans, that I not only will yield to the
 audacity of no one, but that I always voluntarily attack the worthless. And if all the violence
 of domestic enemies being warded off from you turns itself upon me alone, you will have to take
 care, O Roman; in what condition you wish those men to be for the future, who for your safety
 have exposed themselves to unpopularity and to all sorts of dangers. As for me, myself; what is
 there which now can be gained by me for the enjoyment of life, especially when neither in
 credit among you, nor in the glory of virtue, do I see any higher point to which I can be
 desirous to climb?

That indeed I will take care of; O Romans, as a private man to uphold and embellish the
 exploits which I have performed in my consulship: so that if there has been any unpopularity
 incurred in preserving the republic, it may injure those who envy me, and may tend to my glory.
 Lastly, I will so behave myself in the republic as always to remember what I have done, and to
 take care that they shall appear to have been done through virtue, and not by chance. Do you, O
 Romans, since it is now night ,worship that Jupiter, the guardian of this city and of
 yourselves, and depart to your homes; and defend those homes, though the danger is now removed,
 with guard and watch as you did last night, That you shall not have to do so long, and that you
 shall enjoy perpetual tranquillity, shall, O Romans, be my care.

I see, O conscript fathers, that the looks and eyes of you all are turned towards me; I see
 that you are anxious not only for your own danger and that of the republic, but even, if that
 be removed, for mine. Your good-will is delightful to one amid evils, and pleasing amid grief;
 but I entreat you, in the name of the immortal gods, lay it aside now, and, forgetting my
 safety, think of yourselves and of your children. If indeed, this condition of the consulship
 has been allotted to me, that I should bear all bitterness, all pains and tortures, I will bear
 them not only bravely but even cheerfully, provided that by my toils dignity and safety are
 procured for you and for the Roman people.

I am that consul, O conscript fathers, to whom neither the
 forum in which all justice is contained, nor the Campus Martius, consecrated to the consular assemblies,
 nor the senate house, the chief assistance of all nations, nor my own home, the common refuge
 of all men, nor my bed devoted to rest, in short, not even this seat of honour, this curule
 chair has ever been free from the danger of death, or from plots and treachery. I have been
 silent about many things, I have borne much, I have conceded much, I have remedied many things
 with some pain to myself amid the alarm of you all. Now if the immortal gods have determined
 that there shall be this end to my consulship that I should snatch you, O conscript fathers,
 and the Roman people from miserable slaughter, your wives and children and the vestal virgins
 from most bitter distress, the temples and shrines of the gods and this most lovely country of
 all of us, from impious flames, all Italy from war and devastation, then whatever fortune is
 laid up for me by myself it shall be borne. If, indeed, Publius Lentulus, being led on by
 soothsayers believed that his name was connected by destiny with the destruction of the
 republic, why should not I rejoice that my consulship has taken place almost by the express
 appointment of fate for the preservation of the republic?

Wherefore, O conscript fathers, consult the welfare of yourselves, provide for that of the
 republic; preserve yourselves, your wives, your children, and your fortunes; defend the name
 and safety of the Roman people; cease to spare me, and to think of me. For, in the first place,
 I ought to hope that all the gods who preside over this city will show me gratitude in
 proportion as I deserve it; and in the second place, if anything does happen to me, I shall
 fall with a contented and prepared mind; and, indeed, death cannot be disgraceful to a brave
 man, nor premature to one of consular rank, nor miserable to a wise man. Not that I am a man of
 so iron a disposition as not to be moved by the grief of a most dear and affectionate brother
 now present, and by the tears of all these men by whom you now see me surrounded. Nor does my
 fainting wife, my daughter prostrate with fear, and my little son whom the republic seems to me
 to embrace as a sort of hostage for my consulship, the son-in-law who, awaiting the end of that
 day, is now standing in my sight, fail often to recall my mind to my home. I am moved by all
 these circumstances, but in such a direction as to wish that they all may be safe together with
 you, even if some violence overwhelms me, rather than that both they and are should perish
 together with the republic.

Wherefore, O conscript fathers, attend to the safety of the
 republic; look round upon all the storms which are impending, unless you guard against them. It
 is not Tiberius Gracchus, who wished to be made a second time a tribune of the people; it is
 not Caius Gracchus, who endeavoured to excite the partisans of the agrarian law;
 it is not Lucius Saturninus, who slew Memmius, who is now in some danger, who is now brought
 before the tribunal of your severity. They are now in your hands who withstood all Rome, with
 the object of bringing conflagration on the whole city, massacre on all of you, and of
 receiving Catiline; their letters are in your possession, their seals, their handwriting, and
 the confession of each individual of them; the Allobroges are tampered with, the slaves are
 excited, Catiline is sent for; the design is actually begun to be put in execution, that all
 should be put to death, so that no one should be left even to mourn the name of the republic,
 and to lament over the downfall of so mighty a dominion.

All these things the witnesses have informed you of; the prisoners have confessed, you by
 many judgments have already decided; first, because you have thanked me in unprecedented
 language, and have passed a vote that the conspiracy of abandoned men has been laid open by my
 virtue and diligence; secondly, because you have compelled Publius Lentulus to abdicate the
 praetorship; again, because you have voted that he and the others about whom you have decided
 should be given into custody; and above all because you have decreed a supplication in my name,
 an honour which has never been paid to any one before acting in a civil capacity; last of all
 because yesterday you gave most ample rewards to the ambassadors of the Allobroges and to Titus
 Vulturcius; all which acts are such that they, who have been given into custody by name,
 without any doubt seem already condemned by you.

But I have determined to refer the business to you as a fresh matter, O conscript fathers,
 both as to the fact, what you think of it and as to the punishment, what you vote. I will state
 what it behoves the consul to state. I have seen for a long time great madness existing in the
 republic, and new designs being formed, and evil passions being stirred up; but I never thought
 that so great, so destructive a conspiracy as this was being meditated by citizens. Now to
 whatever point your minds and opinions incline, you must decide before night. You see how great
 a crime has been made known to you; if you think that but few are implicated in it you are
 greatly mistaken; this evil has spread wider than you think; it has spread not only throughout
 Italy, but it has even crossed the Alps, and creeping stealthily on, it has already occupied
 many of the provinces; it can by no means be crushed by tolerating it, and by temporising with
 it; however you determine on chastising it, you must act with promptitude.

I see that as yet there are two opinions. One that of Decius Silanus, who thinks that those
 who have endeavoured to destroy all these things should be punished with death the other, that
 of Caius Caesar, who objects to the punishment of death, but adopts the most extreme severity
 of all other punishment. Each acts in a manner suitable to his own dignity and to the magnitude
 of the business with the greatest severity. The one thinks that it is not right that those, who
 have attempted to deprive all or us and the while Roman people of life, to destroy the empire,
 to extinguish the name of the Roman people, should enjoy life and the breath of heaven common
 to us all, for one moment; and he remembers that this sort of punishment has often been
 employed against worthless citizens in this republic. The other feels that death was not
 appointed by the immortal gods for the sake of punishment, but that it is either a necessity of
 nature, or a rest from toils and miseries; therefore wise men have never met it unwillingly,
 brave men have often encountered it even voluntarily. But imprisonment and that too perpetual,
 was certainly invented for the extraordinary punishment of nefarious wickedness; therefore he
 proposes that they should be distributed among the municipal towns. This proposition seems to
 have in it injustice if you command; it difficulty if you request it.

Let it, however, be so decreed if you like. For I will undertake, and, as I hope, I shall
 find one who will not think it suitable to his dignity to refuse what you decide on for the
 sake of the universal safety. He imposes besides a severe punishment on the burgesses of the
 municipal town if any of the prisoners escape; he surrounds them with the most terrible guard,
 and with everything worthy of the wickedness of abandoned men. And he proposes to establish a
 decree that no one shall be able to alleviate the punishment of those whom he is condemning by
 a vote of either the senate or the people. He takes away even hope, which alone can comfort men
 in their miseries; besides this, he votes that their goods should be confiscated; he leaves
 life alone to these infamous men, and if he had taken that away; he would have
 relieved them by one pang of many tortures of mind and body, and of all the punishment of their
 crimes. Therefore, that there might be some dread in life to the wicked, men of old have
 believed that there were some punishments of that sort appointed for the wicked in the shades
 below; because in truth they perceived that if this were taken away death itself would not be
 terrible.

Now, O conscript fathers, I see what is my interest; if you follow the opinion of Caius
 Caesar, (since he has adopted this path in the republic which is accounted the popular one,)
 perhaps since he is the author and promoter of this opinion, the popular violence will be less
 to be dreaded by me; if you adopt the other opinion, I know not whether I am not likely to have
 more trouble; but still let the advantage of the republic outweigh the consideration of my
 danger. For we have from Caius Caesar, as his own dignity and as the illustrious character of
 his ancestors demanded, a vote as a hostage of his lasting good-will to the republic; it has
 been clearly seen how great is the difference between the lenity of demagogues, and a
 disposition really attached to the interests of the people.

I see that of those men who wish to be considered attached to the people one man is absent,
 that they may not seem forsooth to give a vote about the lives of Roman citizens. He only three
 days ago gave Roman citizens into custody, and decreed me a supplication, and voted most
 magnificent rewards to the witnesses only yesterday. It is not now doubtful to any one what he,
 who voted for the imprisonment of the criminals, congratulation to him who had detected them,
 and rewards to those who had proved the crime, thinks of the whole matter, and of the cause.
 But Caius Caesar considers that the Sempronian law
 was passed about Roman citizens, but that he who is an enemy of the republic can by no means be
 a citizen; and moreover that the very proposer of the Sempronian law suffered punishment by the
 command of the people. He also denies that Lentulus, a briber and a spendthrift, after he has
 formed such cruel and bitter plans about the destruction of the Roman people and the ruin of
 this city, can be called a friend of the people. Therefore this most gentle and merciful man
 does not hesitate to commit Publius Lentulus to eternal darkness and imprisonment, and
 establishes a law to all posterity that no one shall be able to boast of alleviating his
 punishment or hereafter to appear a friend of the people to the destruction of the Roman
 people. He adds also the confiscation of their goods, so that want also and beggary may be
 added to all the torments of mind and body.

Wherefore, if you decide on this you give me a companion in my address, dear and acceptable
 to the Roman people; or if you prefer to adopt the opinion of Silanus, you will easily defend
 me and yourselves from the reproach of cruelty, and I will prevail that it shall be much
 lighter. Although, O conscript fathers, what cruelty can there be in chastising the enormity of
 such excessive wickedness? For I decide from my own feeling. For so may I be allowed; to enjoy
 the republic in safety in your company, as I am not moved to be somewhat vehement in this cause
 by any severity of disposition, (for who is more merciful than I am?) but rather by a singular
 humanity and mercifulness. For I seem to myself to see this city, the light of the world and
 the citadel of all nations, falling on a sudden by one conflagration. I see in my mind's eye
 miserable and unburied heaps of cities in my buried country; the sight of Cethegus and his
 madness raging amid your slaughter is ever present to my sight.

But when I have set before myself Lentulus reigning, as he himself confesses
 that he had hoped was his destiny, and this Gabinius arrayed in the purple and Catiline arrived
 with his army, then I shudder at the lamentation of matrons, and the flight of virgins and of
 boys and the insults of the vestal virgins; and because these things appear to me exceedingly
 miserable and pitiable, therefore I show myself severe and rigorous to those who have wished to
 bring about this state of things. I ask, forsooth, if any father of a family, supposing his
 children had been slain by a slave, his wife murdered, his house burnt, were not to inflict on
 his slaves the severest possible punishment would he appear clement and merciful or most
 inhuman and cruel? To me he would seem unnatural and hard-hearted who did not soothe his own
 pain and anguish by the pain and torture of the criminal. And so we, in the case
 of these men who desired to murder us, and our wives, and our children,—who endeavoured to
 destroy the houses of every individual among us, and also the republic, the home of all,—who
 designed to place the nation of the Allobroges on the relics of this city, and on the ashes of
 the empire destroyed by fire;—if we are very rigorous, we shall be considered merciful; if we
 choose to be lax, we must endure the character of the greatest cruelty, to the damage of our
 country and our fellow-citizens.

Unless, indeed, Lucius Caesar, a thoroughly brave man
 and of the best disposition towards the republic, seemed to any one to be too cruel three, days
 ago, when he said that the husband of his own sister, a most excellent woman, (in his presence
 and in his hearing,) ought to be deprived of life,— when he said that his grandfather had been
 put to death by command of the consul and his youthful son, sent as an ambassador by his
 father, had been put to death in prison. And what deed had they done like these men? had they
 formed any plan for destroying the republic? At that time great corruption was rife in the
 republic, and there was the greatest strife between parties. And, at that time, the grandfather
 of this Lentulus, a most illustrious man, put on his armour and pursued Gracchus; he even
 received a severe wound that there might be no diminution of the great dignity of the republic.
 But this man, his grandson, invited the Gauls to overthrow the foundations of the republic; he
 stirred up the slaves, he summoned Catiline, he distributed us to Cethegus to be massacred, and
 the rest of the citizens to Gabinius to be assassinated, the city he allotted to Cassius to
 burn, and the plundering and devastating of all Italy he assigned to Catiline. You fear, I
 think, lest in the case of such unheard of and abominable wickedness you should seem to decide
 anything with too great severity; when we ought much more to fear lest by being remiss in
 punishing we should appear cruel to our country, rather than appear by the severity of our
 irritation too rigorous to its most bitter enemies.

But O conscript fathers, I cannot conceal what I hear; for sayings are bruited about, which
 come to my ears, of those men who seem to fear that I may not have force enough to put in
 execution the things which you determine on this day. Everything is provided for, and prepared,
 and arranged, O conscript fathers, both by my exceeding care and diligence, and also by the
 still greater zeal of the Roman people for the retaining of their supreme dominion, and for the
 preserving of the fortunes of all. All men of all ranks are present, and of all ages; the forum
 is full, the temples around the forum are full, all the approaches to this place and to this
 temple are full. For this is the only cause that has ever been known since the first foundation
 of the city, in which all men were of one and the same opinion—except those, who, as they saw
 they must be ruined, preferred to perish in company with all the world rather than by
 themselves.

These men I except, and I willingly set apart from the
 rest; for I do not think that they should be classed in the number of worthless citizens, but
 in that of the most bitter enemies. But, as for the rest, O ye immortal gods! in what crowds,
 with what zeal, with what virtue do they agree in defence of the common dignity and safety. Why
 should I here speak of the Roman knights? who yield to you the supremacy in rank and wisdom, in
 order to vie with you in love for the republic,—whom this day and this cause now reunite with
 you in alliance and unanimity with your body reconciled after a disagreement of many years. And
 if we can preserve for ever in the republic this union now established in nay consulship, I
 pledge myself to you that no civil and domestic calamity can hereafter reach any part of the
 republic. I see that the tribunes of the treasury—excellent men—have united with similar zeal
 in defence of the republic, and all the notaries. For as this day had by chance brought them in crowds to the treasury, I see that they
 were diverted from an anxiety for the money due to them, from an expectation of their capital,
 to a regard for the common safety.

The entire multitude of
 honest men, even the poorest is present; for who is there to whom these temples, the sight of
 the city, the possession of liberty,—in short; this light and this soil of his, common to us
 all, is not both dear and pleasant and delightful? 
 It is worth while, O conscript fathers, to know the inclinations of the freedmen; who, having
 by their good fortune obtained the rights of citizens, consider this to be really their
 country, which some who have been born here, and born in the highest rank, have considered to
 be not their own country, but a city of enemies. But why should I speak of men of this body
 whom their private fortunes, whom their common republic, whom, in short, that liberty which is
 most delightful has called forth to defend the safety of their country? There is no slave who
 is only in an endurable condition of slavery who does not shudder at the audacity of citizens,
 who does not desire that these things may stand, who does not contribute all the good-will that
 he can, and all that he dares, to the common safety.

Wherefore, if this consideration moves any one, that it
 has been heard that some tool of Lentulus is running about the shops,—is hoping that the minds
 of some poor and ignorant men may be corrupted by bribery; that, indeed, has been attempted and
 begun, but no one has been found either so wretched in their fortune or so abandoned in their
 inclination as not to wish the place of their seat and work and daily gain, their chamber and
 their bed, and, in short, the tranquil course of their lives, to be still preserved to them.
 And far the greater part of those who are in the shops,—yes, indeed, (for that is the more
 correct way of speaking,) the whole of this class is of all the most attached to tranquillity;
 their whole stock, indeed, their whole employment and livelihood, exists by the peaceful
 intercourse of the citizens, and is wholly supported by peace. And if their gains are
 diminished whenever their shops are shut, what will they be when they are burnt?

And, as this is the case, O conscript fathers, the protection of the
 Roman people is not wanting to you; do you take care that you do not seem to be wanting to the
 Roman people. 
 You have a consul preserved out of many dangers and plots, and from death itself not for his
 own life, but for your safety. All ranks agree for the preservation of the republic with heart
 and will, with zeal, with virtue, with their voice. Your common country, besieged by the hands
 and weapons of an impious conspiracy, stretches forth her hands to you as a suppliant; to you
 she recommends herself to you she recommends the lives of all the citizens, and the citadel,
 and the Capitol, and the altars of the household gods, and the eternal inextinguishable fire of
 Vesta, and all the temples of all the gods, and the altars and the walls and the houses of the
 city. Moreover, your own lives, those of your wives and children, the fortunes of all men, your
 homes, your hearth; are this day interested in your decision.

You have a leader mindful of you, forgetful of himself—an
 opportunity which is not always given to men; you have all ranks, all individuals, the whole
 Roman people, (a thing which in civil transactions we see this day for the first time,) full of
 one and the same feeling. Think with what great labour this our dominion was founded, by what
 virtue this our liberty was established, by what kind favour of the gods our fortunes were
 aggrandized and ennobled, and how nearly one night destroyed them all. That this may never
 hereafter be able not only to be done, but not even to be thought of you must this day take
 care. And I have spoken thus, not in order to stir you up who almost outrun me myself but that
 my voice, which ought to be the chief voice in the republic, may appear to have fulfilled the
 duty which belongs to me as consul.

Now, before I return to the decision, I will say a few words concerning myself. As numerous
 as is the band of conspirators—and you see that it is very great,—so numerous a multitude of
 enemies do I see that I have brought upon myself. But I consider them base and powerless and
 despicable and abject. But if at any time that band shall be excited by the wickedness and
 madness of any one, and shall show itself more powerful than your dignity and that of the
 republic, yet. O conscript fathers, I shall never repent of my actions and of my advice. Death,
 indeed, which they perhaps threaten me with, is prepared for all men; such glory during life as
 you have honoured me with by your decrees no one has ever attained to. For you have passed
 votes of congratulation to others for having governed the republic successfully, but to me
 alone for having saved it.

Let Scipio be thought illustrious, he by whose wisdom and
 valour Hannibal was compelled to return into Africa, and to depart from Italy. Let the second
 Africanus be extolled with conspicuous praise, who destroyed two cities most hostile to this
 empire, Carthage and Numantia. Let Lucius Paullus be thought a great man, he whose triumphal
 car was graced by Perses, previously a most powerful and noble monarch. Let
 Marius be held in eternal honour, who twice delivered Italy from siege, and from the fear of
 slavery. Let Pompey be preferred to them all—Pompey, whose exploits and whose virtues are
 bounded by the same districts and limits as the course of the sun. There will be, forsooth,
 among the praises of these men, some room for my glory, unless haply it be a greater deed to
 open to us provinces whither we may fly, than to take care that those who are at a distance
 may, when conquerors; have a home to return to.

Although in one point the circumstances of foreign triumph are better than those of domestic
 victory; because foreign enemies, either if they be crushed become one's servants, or if they
 be received into the state, think themselves bound to us by obligations; but those of the
 number of citizens who become depraved by madness and once begin to be enemies to their
 country,—those men, when you have defeated their attempts to injure the republic, you can
 neither restrain by force nor conciliate by kindness. So that I see that an eternal war with
 all wicked citizens has been undertaken by me; which, however, I am confident can easily be
 driven back from me and mine by your aid, and by that of all good men, and by the memory of
 such great dangers, which will remain, not only among this people which has been saved, but in
 the discourse and minds of all nations forever. Nor, in truth, can any power be found which
 will be able to undermine and destroy your union with the Roman knights, and such unanimity as
 exists among all good men.

As, then, this is the case, O conscript fathers, instead of my military command—instead of
 the army,——instead of the province which I have neglected, and the
 other badges of honour which have been rejected by me for the sake of protecting the city and
 your safety,—in place of the ties of clientship and hospitality with citizens in the provinces,
 which, however, by my influence in the city, I study to preserve with as much toil as I labour
 to acquire them,—in place of all these things, and in reward for my singular zeal in your
 behalf, and for this diligence in saving the republic which you behold, I ask nothing of you
 but the recollection of this time and of my whole consulship. And as long as that is fixed in
 your minds, I still think I am fenced round by the strongest wall. But if the violence of
 wicked men shall deceive and overpower my expectations, I recommend to you my little son, to
 whom, in truth, it will be protection enough, not only for his safety, but even for his dignity
 if you recollect that he is the son of him who has saved all these things at his own single
 risk.

Wherefore, O conscript fathers, determine with care, as you have begun, and boldly,
 concerning your own safety, and that of the Roman people, and concerning your wives and
 children; concerning your altars and your hearths your shrines and temples; concerning the
 houses and homes of the whole city; concerning your dominion, your liberty and the safety of
 Italy and the whole republic. For you have a consul who will not hesitate to obey your decrees,
 and who will be able as long as he lives, to defend what you decide on and of his own power to
 execute it.