Part 29

At the feast of the Lupercalia, on February 15, he was approached by Marc Antony, as he sat in his golden chair, and offered an embroidered band, such as the sovereigns of Asia wore on their heads. The crowd failed to applaud, and Cæsar pushed it aside. Then the multitude broke out in a roar of applause. Again and again he rejected the glittering bauble, and again the people broke into loud cries of approval. It was evident that they would have no king. At a later date it was moved in the senate that Cæsar should be king in the provinces; but he died before this decree could be put in effect.

There was discontent at Rome. Even the clemency of Cæsar had made him enemies, for there were many who hoped to profit by proscription. His justice made foes among those who wished to grow rich through extortion and oppression. He secluded himself while engaged on his reforms, and this lost him popularity. A conspiracy was organized against him by a soldier named Caius Cassius and others of the discontented. For leader they selected Marcus Junius Brutus, who believed himself a descendant of the Brutus of old, and was won to their plot by being told that, while his great ancestor had expelled the last king of Rome, he was resting content under the rule of a new king.

Brutus, at length convinced that Cæsar was seeking to overthrow the Roman republic, and that patriotism required him to emulate the famous Brutus of old, joined the conspiracy, which now included more than sixty persons, most of whom had received benefits and honors from the man they wished to kill. But no considerations of gratitude prevailed; they determined on Cæsar's death; and the meeting of the senate called for the Ides of March (March 15) was fixed for the time and place of the projected murder.

The morning of that day seemed full of omens and warnings. The secret was oozing out. Cæsar received more than one intimation of impending danger. A soothsayer had even bidden him to "beware of the Ides of March." During the preceding night his wife was so disturbed by dreams that in the morning she begged him not to go that day to the senate, as she was sure some peril was at hand. Her words failed to trouble Cæsar's resolute mind, but to quiet her apprehensions he agreed not to go, and directed Marc Antony to preside over the senate in his stead.

When this word was brought to the assembled senate the conspirators were in despair. Their secret was known to too many to remain a secret long. Even a day's delay might be fatal. An hour might put Cæsar on his guard. What was to be done? Unless their victim could be brought to the senate chamber all would be lost.

Decimus Brutus, one of the conspirators who had been favored by Cæsar's bounty, went hastily to his house, and, telling him that the senate proposed that day to make him king of the provinces, bade him not to yield to such idle matters as auguries and dreams, but show himself above any such superstitious weakness. These cunning arguments induced Cæsar to change his mind, and he called for his litter and was carried forth.

On his way to the senate new intimations of danger came to him. A slave had in some way discovered the conspiracy, and tried to force himself through the crowd to the dictator's litter, but was driven back by the throng. Another informant was more fortunate. A Greek philosopher, Artemidorus by name, had also discovered the conspiracy, and succeeded in reaching Cæsar's side. He thrust into his hand a roll of paper containing a full account of the impending peril. But the star of Cæsar that day was against him. Thinking the roll to contain a petition of some sort, he laid it in the litter by his side, to examine at a more convenient time. And thus he went on to his death, despite all the warnings sent him by the fates.

The conspirators meanwhile were far from easy in mind. There were signs among them that their plot had leaked out. Casca, one of their number, was accosted by a friend, "Ah, Casca, Brutus has told me your secret." The conspirator started in alarm, but was relieved by the next words, "Where will you find money for the expenses of the ædileship?" The man evidently referred to an expected office.

Another senator, Popillius Lænas, hit the mark closer. "You have my good wishes; but what you do, do quickly," he said to Brutus and Cassius.

The alarm caused by his words was doubled when he stepped up to Cæsar, on his entrance to the chamber, and began to whisper in his ear. Cassius was so terrified that he grasped his dagger with the thought of killing himself. He was stopped by Brutus, who quietly said that Popillius seemed rather to be asking a favor than telling a secret. Whatever his purpose, Cæsar was not checked, but moved quietly on and took his seat.

Immediately Cimber, one of the conspirators, approached with a petition, in which he begged for the recall of his brother from banishment. The others pressed round, praying Cæsar to grant his request. Displeased by their importunity, Cæsar attempted to rise, but was pulled down into his seat by Cimber, while Casca stabbed him in the side, but inflicted only a slight wound. Then they all assailed him with drawn daggers.

Cæsar kept them off for a brief time by winding his gown as a shield round his left arm, and using his sharp writing style for a weapon. But when he saw Brutus approach prepared to strike he exclaimed in deep sorrow and reproach, "Et tu, Brute!" (Thou too, Brutus!) and covering his face with his gown, he ceased to resist. Their daggers pierced his body till he had received twenty-three wounds, when he fell dead at the base of the statue of Pompey, which looked silently down on the slaughter of his great and successful rival.

What followed this base and fruitless deed may be briefly told. The senators not in the plot rose in alarm and fled from the house. When Brutus turned to seek to justify his deed only empty benches remained. Then the assassins hurried to the Forum, to tell the people that they had freed Rome from a despot. But the people were hostile, and the words of Brutus fell on unfriendly ears.

Marc Antony followed, and delivered a telling oration, which Shakespeare has magnificently paraphrased. He showed the mob a waxen image of Cæsar's body, pierced with wounds, and the garment rent by murderous blades. His words wrought his hearers to fury. They tore up benches, tables, and everything on which they could lay their hands, for a funeral pile, placed on it the corpse, and set it on fire. Then, seizing blazing embers from the pile, they rushed in quest of vengeance to the houses of the conspirators. They were too late; all had fled. The will of the dictator, in which he had made a large donation to every citizen of Rome, added to the popular fury, and a frenzy of vengeance took possession of the people of Rome.

We must give the sequel of this murderous deed in a few words. Marc Antony was now master of Rome. He increased his power by pretending moderation, and having a law passed to abolish the dictatorship forever. But there were other actors on the scene. Octavius, whom Cæsar's will had named as his heir, took quick steps to gain his heritage. Antony had taken possession of Cæsar's wealth, but Octavius managed to raise money enough to pay his uncle's legacy to the citizens of Rome. A third man of power was Lepidus, who commanded an army near Rome, and was prepared to take part in the course of events.

Octavius was still only a boy, not yet twenty years of age. But he was shrewd and ambitious, and soon succeeded in having himself elected consul and put at the head of a large army. Cicero aided him with a series of orations directed against Antony, which were so keen and bitter, and had such an effect upon the people, that Antony was declared a public enemy. Octavius marched to meet him and Lepidus, who were marching southward with another large army.

Instead of fighting, however, the three leaders met in secret conclave, and agreed to divide the power in Rome between them. This compact is known as the Second Triumvirate. Its members followed the example of Marius and Sulla, not that of Cæsar, and resolved to extirpate their enemies. Each of them gave up personal friends to the vengeance of the others. Of their victims the most famous was Cicero, who had delivered his orations against Antony in aid of Octavius. The ambitious boy was base enough to yield his friend to the vengeance of the incensed Antony. No less than three hundred senators and two thousand knights fell victims to this new proscription, which while it lasted made a reign of terror in Rome.

Brutus and Cassius had meanwhile made themselves masters of Greece and the eastern provinces of Rome, and were ready to meet the forces of the Triumvirate in the field. The decisive battle was fought on the field of Philippi in Northern Greece. The division of Cassius was defeated, and he killed himself in despair. Twenty days afterwards another battle was fought on the same field, in which Brutus was defeated, and likewise put an end to his life. The triumvirs were undisputed lords of Rome. The imperial rule of Cæsar had lasted but a few months, and ended with his life. But with Octavius began an imperial era which lasted till the end of the dominion of Rome.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

The battles of Philippi and the death of Brutus and Cassius put an end to the republican party to whom Cæsar owed his death. The whole realm was handed over to the imperial Triumvirate, who now made a new division of the vast Roman world. Antony took as his share all the mighty realm of the East; Octavius all the West. To Lepidus, whom his powerful confederates did not take the trouble to consult, only Africa was left.

The after-career of Antony was a curious and impressive one. He loved a bewitching Egyptian queen, and for a false love lost the vast dominion he had won. The story is one of the most romantic and popular of all that have come to us from the past. It has been told in detail by Plutarch and richly dramatized by Shakespeare. We give it here in brief epitome.

Fourteen years previously Antony had visited Alexandria, and had there seen the youthful Cleopatra, then a girl of fifteen, but already so beautiful and attractive that the susceptible Roman was deeply smitten with her charms. Later she had charmed Cæsar, and now when the lord of the East set out on a tour of his new dominions, the love queen of Egypt left her capital for Cilicia with the purpose of making him her captive.

It was midsummer of the year 41 B.C. when Antony arrived at Tarsus, on the river Cydnus. Up this stream to visit him came, in more than Oriental pomp, the beautiful Egyptian queen. The galley that bore her was gorgeous beyond comparison. Its sails were of Tyrian purple; silver oars fretted the yielding wave, while music timed their rise and fall; the poop glittered with burnished gold; rich perfumes filled the air with fragrance. Here, on a splendid couch, under a spangled canopy, reclined Cleopatra, attired as Venus, and surrounded by attendants dressed as Graces and Cupids. Beautiful slaves moved oars and ropes, and the whole array was one of wondrous charm. We cannot do better than quote Shakespeare's vivid description of this unequalled spectacle:

"The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne, Burned on the water; the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water that they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggared all description; she did lie In her pavilion--cloth-of-gold of tissue-- Outpicturing that Venus where we see The fancy outwork nature; on each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With divers-colored fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool."

The people of Tarsus ran in crowds to gaze on this wondrous spectacle, leaving Antony alone in the Forum. At the request of Cleopatra he came also, and was so captivated at sight that he became her slave. He forgot Rome, forgot his wife Fulvia, forgot honor and dignity, through his wild passion for this Egyptian sorceress. Following her to Alexandria, he laid aside his Roman garb for the Oriental costume of the Egyptian court, gave way to all Cleopatra's pleasure-loving caprices, and lived in a perpetual round of orgies and festivities, heedless of honor and duty, and caring for naught but love and sensual enjoyment.

Intoxicated with pleasure, Antony did not know what risk he ran. Shortly before Octavius had been spoken of as a boy, whom it would be easy to manage and control. He was feeble and sickly,--so much so, indeed, that just at this time his death was reported in Rome. But the "boy" was ambitious, astute, and far-seeing, and Marc Antony was descending to ruin with every step he took in his career of folly and profligacy.

The history of the succeeding years is long, but must here be made short. The two lords of Rome were changed from friends to enemies by the act of Fulvia, the wife of Antony. Octavius had married her daughter Claudia, and now divorced her. Anger at this, and a hope of winning Antony from the seductions of the Egyptian queen, caused her to organize a formidable revolt against Octavius. She succeeded in raising a large army, but Antony was still too absorbed in Cleopatra to come to her aid, and Agrippa, the able general of Octavius, soon put down the revolt.

Then, when it was too late to help her, Antony awoke from his lethargy, and sailed to battle with Octavius. He besieged Brundusium. But Fulvia had died, the soldiers had no heart for civil war, and the great rivals again made peace. Antony married Octavia, the sister of Octavius, they divided the Roman world between them as before, and Rome was made happy by a grand round of games and festivities.