Antony was kept out of the plot, and when the blow was struck he was detained at his office by pretended visitors who wanted a hearing.
When news came to him that Cæsar was dead, he fled, thinking that massacre would follow. But the next day he returned and held audience with the rebels.
Antony was too close a follower of Cæsar to depart from his methods. Naturally he was hasty and impulsive; but now, everything he did was in imitation of the great man he had loved.
Cæsar always pardoned. Antony listened to the argument of Brutus that Cæsar had been removed for the good of Rome. Brutus proposed that Antony should fill Cæsar's place as Consul or nominal dictator; and in return Brutus and Cassius were to be made governors of certain provinces—amnesty was to be given to all who were in the plot.
Antony agreed, and at once the Assembly was called and a law passed tendering pardon to all concerned—thus was civil war averted. Cæsar was dead, but Rome was safe.
The funeral of Cæsar was to occur the next day. It was to be the funeral of a private citizen—the honor of a public funeral-pyre was not to be his. Brutus would say a few words, and Antony, as the closest friend of the dead, would also speak—the body would be buried and all would go on in peace.
Antony had done what he had because it was the only thing he could do. To be successor of Cæsar filled his ambition to the brim—but to win the purple by a compromise with the murderers! It turned his soul to gall.
At the funeral of Cæsar the Forum was crowded to every corner with a subdued, dejected, breathless throng. People spoke in whispers—no one felt safe—the air was stifled and poisoned with fear and fever.
Brutus spoke first: we do not know his exact words, but we know the temper of the man, and his mental attitude.
Mark Antony had kept the peace, but if he could only feel that the people were with him he would drive the sixty plotting conspirators before him like chaff before the whirlwind.