The Life and Times of Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt / A Study in the Origin of the Roman Empire

by Arthur E. P. Brome Weigall

At length, however, Cæsar was seen to be approaching; but their consequent relief was at once checked when it was observed that Popilius Laena, who had said that he knew all, entered into deep and earnest conversation with the Dictator. The conversation, however, proved to be of no consequence, and Cæsar presently walked on into the Curia where the Senate was to meet. A certain Trebonius was now set to detain Antony in conversation outside the doorway; for it had been decided that, although the latter was Cæsar’s right-hand man, he should not be murdered, but that, after the assassination, he should be won over to the side of the so-called patriots by fair words.

When Cæsar entered the building the whole Senate rose to their feet in respectful salutation. The Dictator having taken his seat, one of the conspirators, named Tullius Cimber, approached him ostensibly with the purpose of petitioning him to pardon his exiled brother. The others at once gathered round, pressing so close upon him that Cæsar was obliged to order them to stand back. Then, perhaps suspecting their design, he sprang suddenly to his feet, whereupon Tullius caught hold of his toga and pulled it from him, thus leaving his spare frame covered only by a light tunic. Instantly a senator named Casca, whom the Dictator had just honoured with promotion, struck him in the shoulder with his dagger, whereupon Cæsar, grappling with him, cried out in a loud voice, “You villain, Casca! what are you doing?” A moment later, Casca’s brother stabbed him in the side. Cassius, whose life Cæsar had spared after Pharsalia, struck him in the face; Bucolianus drove a knife between his shoulder-blades, and Decimus Brutus, who so recently had encouraged him to come to the Senate, wounded him in the groin. Cæsar fought for his life like a wild animal.[75] He struck out to right and left with his stilus, and, streaming with blood, managed to break his way through the circle of knives to the pedestal of the statue of his old enemy Pompey. He had just grasped Casca once more by the arm, when suddenly perceiving his beloved Marcus Brutus coming at him with dagger drawn, he gasped out, “You, too, Brutus—my son!” and fell, dying, upon the ground.[76] Instantly the pack of murderers was upon him, slashing and stabbing at his prostrate form, wounding one another in their excitement, and nigh tumbling over him where he lay in a pool of blood.

As soon as all signs of life had left the body, the conspirators turned to face the Senate; but, to their surprise, they found the members rushing madly from the building. Brutus had prepared a speech to make to them as soon as the murder should be accomplished; but in a few moments nobody was left in the Curia for him to address. He and his companions, therefore, were at a loss to know what to do; but at length they issued forth from the building, somewhat nervously brandishing their daggers and shouting catch-words about Liberty and the Republic. At their approach everybody fled to their homes; and Antony, fearing that he, too, would be murdered, disguised himself and hurried by side-streets to his house. They therefore took up their position in the Capitol, and there remained until a deputation of senators induced them to come down to the Forum. Here, standing in the rostra, Brutus addressed the crowd, who were fairly well-disposed towards him; but when another speaker, Cinna, made bitter accusations against the dead man, the people chased the conspirators back once more to the Capitol, where they spent the night.

When darkness had fallen and the tumult had subsided, Antony made his way to the Forum, whither, he had heard, the body of Cæsar had been carried; and here, in the light of the moon, he looked once more upon the face of his arrogant old master. Here, too, he met Calpurnia, and, apparently at her request, took charge of all the Dictator’s documents and valuables.

Upon the next day, at Antony’s suggestion, a general amnesty was proclaimed, and matters were amicably discussed. It was then decided that Cæsar’s will should be opened, but the contents must have been a surprise to both parties. The dead man bequeathed to every Roman citizen 300 sesterces, giving also to the Roman people his vast estates and gardens on the other side of the Tiber, where Cleopatra was, at the time, residing. Three-quarters of the remainder of his estate was bequeathed to Octavian, and the other quarter was divided between his two nephews, Lucius Pinarius and Quintus Pedius. In a codicil he added that Octavian should be his official heir; and he named several guardians for his son, should one be born to him after his death.

The dead body lay in state in the Forum for some five days, while the ferment in the city continued to rage unabated. The funeral was at length fixed for March 20th,[77] and towards evening Antony went to the Forum, where he found the crowd wailing and lamenting around the corpse, the soldiers clashing their shields together, and the women uttering their plaintive cries. Antony at once began to sing a dirge-like hymn in praise of Cæsar; pausing in his song every few moments to stretch his hands towards the corpse and to break into loud weeping. In these intervals the crowd took up the funeral chant, and gave vent to their emotional distress in the melancholy music customary at the obsequies of the dead, reciting monotonously a verse of Accius which ran, “I saved those who have given me death.” Presently Antony held up on a spear’s point the robes pierced by so many dagger-thrusts; and standing beside this gruesome relic of the crime, he pronounced his famous funeral oration over the body of the murdered Dictator. When he had told the people of Cæsar’s gifts to them, and had worked upon their feelings by exhibiting thus the blood-stained garments, the mob broke into a frenzy of rage against the conspirators, vowing vengeance upon one and all. Somebody recalled the speech made by Cinna on a previous day, and immediately howls were raised for that orator’s blood. A minor poet, also called Cinna, happened to be standing in the crowd; and when a friend of his had addressed him by that hated name, the people in the immediate vicinity thought that he must be the villain for whose life the mob was shouting. They therefore caught hold of the unfortunate man, and, without further inquiries, tore him limb from limb. They then seized benches, tables, and all available woodwork; and there, in the midst of the public and sacred buildings, they erected a huge pyre, upon the top of which they placed the Dictator’s body, laid out upon a sheet of purple and gold. Torches were applied and speedily the flames arose, illuminating the savage faces of the crowd around the pyre, and casting grotesque shadows upon the gleaming walls and pillars of the adjoining buildings, while the volume of the smoke hid from view the moon now rising above the surrounding roofs and pediments. Soon the mutilated body disappeared from sight into the heart of the fire; and thereupon the spectators, plucking flaming brands from the blaze, dashed down the streets, with the purpose of burning the houses of the conspirators. The funeral pyre continued to smoulder all night long, and it must have been many hours before quiet was restored in the city. The passions of the mob were appeased next day by the general co-operation of all those concerned in public affairs, and the Senate passed what was known as an Act of Oblivion in regard to all that had occurred. Brutus, Cassius, and the chief conspirators, were assigned to positions of importance in the provinces far away from Rome; and the affairs of the capital were left, for the most part, in the hands of Antony. On March 18th, three days after Cæsar’s death, Antony and Lepidus calmly invited Brutus and Cassius to a great dinner-party, and so, for the moment, peace was restored.

Meanwhile, Cleopatra’s state of mind must have been appalling. Not only had she lost her dearest friend and former lover, but, with his death, she had lost the vast kingdom which he had promised her. No longer was she presumptive Queen of the Earth, but now, in a moment, she was once more simply sovereign of Egypt, seated upon an unfirm throne. Moreover, she must have fancied that her own life was in danger, as well as that of the little Cæsar. The contents of the Dictator’s will must have been a further shock to her, although she probably already knew their tenor; and she must have thought with bitterness of the difference that even one day more might have made to her in this regard. It was perhaps true that the Senate had been about to offer him the throne of the provinces on the fatal Ides; and in that case Cæsar would most certainly have altered his will to meet the new situation, if indeed he had not already done so, as some say. There was reason to suppose that such a will, in favour of Cæsarion, had actually been made,[78] but if this were so, it was nowhere to be found, and had perhaps been destroyed by Calpurnia. What was she to do? When would Octavian appear to claim such property and honours as Cæsar had bequeathed to him? Should she at once proclaim her baby son as the rightful heir, or should she fly the country?

In this dilemma there seems to me to be no doubt that she must have consulted with Antony, the one man who had firmly grasped the tangled strings of the situation, and must have implored him to support the claims of her son. If the public would not admit that Cæsarion was Cæsar’s son, then the boy would, without doubt, pass into insignificance, and ultimately be deprived, in all probability, even of his Egyptian throne. If, on the other hand, with Antony’s support, he were officially recognised to be the Dictator’s child, then there was a good chance that the somewhat unprepossessing Octavian might be pushed aside for ever. Cæsar had taken a fancy to this obscure nephew of his during the Spanish War. The young man, although still weak after a severe illness, had set out to join the Dictator in Spain with a promptitude which had won his admiration. He had suffered shipwreck, and had ultimately made his way to his uncle’s camp by roads infested with the enemy, and thereafter had fought by his side. He was now following his studies in Apollonia, and intended to join Cæsar on his way to the East. If he could be prevented from coming to Rome the game would be in the Queen’s hands; and I am of opinion that she must now have approached Antony with some such suggestion for the solution of the difficulty. Antony, on his part, probably realised that with the establishment of Octavian in Cæsar’s seat his own power would vanish; but that, were he to support the baby Cæsarion, he himself would remain the all-powerful regent for many years to come. He might even take the dead man’s place as Cleopatra’s husband, and climb to the throne by means of the right of his stepson.[79]

It would seem, therefore, that he persuaded Cleopatra to remain for the present in Rome; and not long afterwards he declared in the Senate that the little Cæsarion had been acknowledged by Cæsar to be his rightful son. This was denied at once by Oppius, who favoured the claims of Octavian, and ultimately this personage took the trouble to write a short book to refute Antony’s statement.

The young Dolabella now seized the consulship in Rome, and, being on bad terms with Antony, at once showed his hostility to the friends of the late Dictator by various acts of violence against them. Cæsar, before his death, had assigned the province of Syria to Dolabella and that of Macedonia to Antony; but now the Senate, in order to rid Rome of the troublesome presence of the Dictator’s murderers, had given Macedonia and Syria to Marcus Brutus and Cassius, and these two men were now collecting troops with which to enter their dominions in safety. There was thus a political reason for Antony and Dolabella to join forces; and presently we find the two of them working together for the overthrow of Brutus and Cassius.