gone to the East. There was no fleet with which to follow him; and in
Spain Pompey had an army of veterans, who might enter Italy as soon as
he left it. These must first be dealt with.
This did not delay him long. Before the year closed all Spain was his.
Most of the soldiers of Pompey joined his army. Those who did not were
dismissed unharmed. Everywhere he showed the greatest leniency, and
everywhere won friends. On his return to Rome he gained new friends by
passing laws relieving debtors and restoring their civil rights to the
children of Sulla's victims.
He remained in Rome only eleven days, and then sailed for Greece, where
Pompey had gathered a large army. It was January 4, 48 B.C., when he
sailed. On June 6 of the same year was fought, at Pharsalia, in
Thessaly, a great battle which decided the fate of the Roman world.
Pompey's army consisted of about forty-four thousand men. Caesar had but
half as many. But his men were all veterans; many of those of Pompey
were new levies, collected in Asia and Macedonia. The battle was fierce
and desperate. During its course the cavalry of Pompey attacked Caesar's
weak troops and drove them back. The infantry advanced to their support,
and struck straight at the faces of the foe. Plutarch tells us that this
cavalry was made up of young Romans, of the aristocratic class and proud
of their beauty, and that the order was given to Caesar's soldiers to
spoil their beauty for them. But this story, like many told by Plutarch,
lacks proof.
Whatever was the cause, the cavalry were broken and fled in disorder.
Caesar's reserve force now attacked Pompey's worn troops, who gave way
everywhere. Caesar ordered that all Romans should be spared, and only the
Asiatics pursued. The legions, hearing of this, ceased to resist. The
foreign soldiers fled, after great slaughter. Pompey rode hastily from
the field.
The camp was taken. The booty captured was immense. But Caesar would not
let his soldiers rest or plunder till they had completed their work.
This proved easy; all the Romans submitted; the Asiatics fled. Pompey
put to sea, where he had still a powerful fleet. Africa was his, and he
determined to take refuge in Egypt. It proved that he had enemies there.
A small boat was sent off to bring him ashore. Among those on board was
an officer named Septimius, who had served under Pompey in the war with
the pirates.
Pompey recognized his old officer, and entered the boat alone, his wife
and friends watching from the vessel as he was rowed ashore. On the
beach a number of persons were collected, as if to receive him with
honor. The boat stopped. Pompey took the hand of the person next him to
assist him to rise. As he did so Septimius, who stood behind, struck him
with his sword. Pompey, finding that he was among enemies, made no
resistance, and the next blow laid him low in death. His assassins cut
off his head and left his body on the beach. Here one of his freedmen
and an old soldier of his army broke up a fishing-boat and made him a
rude funeral pile. Such were the obsequies of the one-time master of the
world.
The battle of Pharsalia practically ended the struggle that made Caesar
lord of Rome. Some more fighting was necessary. Africa was still in
arms. But a few short campaigns sufficed to bring it to terms, while a
campaign against a son of Mithridates ended in five days, Caesar's
victory being announced to the senate in three short words, "Veni, vidi,
vici" (I came, I saw, I conquered). Then he returned to Rome, where he
shed not a drop of the blood of his enemies, though that of gladiators
and wild animals was freely spilled in the gorgeous games and festivals
with which he amused the sovereign people.
_THE ASSASSINATION OF CAESAR._
The republic of Rome was at an end. The army had become the power, and
the will of the head of the army was the law, of the state. Caesar
celebrated his victories with grand triumphs; but he celebrated them
more notably still by a clemency that signified his innate nobility of
character. Instead of dyeing the streets of Rome with blood, as Marius
and Sulla had done before him, he proclaimed a general amnesty, and his
rise to power was not signalized by the slaughter of one of his foes.
[Illustration: THE ASSASSINATION OF CAESAR.]
He signalized it, on the contrary, by an activity in civil reform as
marked as had been his energy in war. The title and privilege of Roman
citizenship had so far been confined to Italians. He extended it to many
parts of Gaul and Spain. He formed plans to drain the Pontine marshes,
to make a survey and map of the empire, to form a code of laws, and
other great works, which he did not live to fulfil. Of all his reforms,
the best known is the revision of the Calendar. Before his time the
Roman year was three hundred and fifty-five days long, an extra month
being occasionally added, so as to regain the lost days. But this was
very irregularly done, and the civil year had got to be far away from
the solar year. To correct this Caesar was obliged to add ninety days to
the year 46 B.C., which was therefore given the unprecedented length of
four hundred and forty-five days. He ordered that the year in future
should be three hundred and sixty-five and one-fourth days in length, a
change which brought it very nearly, but not quite, to the true length.
A new reform was made in 1582, by Pope Gregory XIII., which made the
civil and solar years almost exactly agree.
Caesar did not live to see his reforms consummated. He was murdered,
perhaps because he had refused to murder. In a few months after he had
brought the civil war to an end he fell the victim of assassins. The
story of his death is famous in Roman history, and must here be told.
After his triumphs Caesar, who had been dictator twice before, was named
dictator for the term of ten years. He was also made censor for three
years. These offices gave him such unlimited power that he was declared
absolute master of the lives and fortunes of the citizens and subjects
of Rome. Imperator men called him, a term we translate emperor, and
after his return from Spain, where he overthrew the last army of his
foes, the senate named him dictator and imperator for life.
These high honors were not sufficient for Caesar's ambition. He wished to
be made king. He had no son of his own, but desired to make his power
hereditary, and chose his grandnephew Octavius as his heir. But he was
to find the people resolutely bent on having no king over Rome.
To try their temper some of his friends placed a crown on his statue in
the Forum. Two of the tribunes tore it off, and the crowd loudly
applauded. Later, at the festival of the Alban Mount, some voices in the
crowd hailed him as king. But the mutterings of the multitude grew so
loud, that he quickly cried, "I am no king, but Caesar."
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 Caesar 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 Caesar 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 Caesar 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 Caesar 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 Caesar'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. Caesar 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 Caesar'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 Caesar 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 Caesar'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
Caesar 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 Caesar's side. He thrust into his hand a roll of paper
containing a full account of the impending peril. But the star of Caesar
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 aedileship?" The man
evidently referred to an expected office.
Another senator, Popillius Laenas, 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 Caesar,
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, Caesar 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 Caesar to grant his request. Displeased by
their importunity, Caesar 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.
Caesar 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
Caesar'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.
[Illustration: ANTONY'S ORATION OVER CAESAR.]
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 Caesar's will
had named as his heir, took quick steps to gain his heritage. Antony had
taken possession of Caesar'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 Caesar, 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 Caesar 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 Caesar 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 Caesar, 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.
[Illustration: THE GALLEY OF CLEOPATRA.]
For three years Antony remained true to his new wife, and aided Octavius
in putting down the foes of Rome. Then, during a campaign in Syria, his
old passion for the fascinating Egyptian returned, he called Cleopatra
to him, dallied with her instead of prosecuting his march, and in the
end was forced to retreat in haste from the barbarian foe.
For three years now Antony was the willing slave of the enchanting
queen. The courage and stoical endurance of the soldier vanished, and
were replaced by the soft indulgence of the voluptuary. The rigid
discipline of the camp was exchanged for the idle and often childish
amusements of the Oriental court. Cleopatra enchained him with an
endless round of pleasures and profligacies. Now, while in a
fishing-boat on the Nile, the queen amused him by having salted fish
fixed by divers on his hook, which he drew up amid the laughter of the
party. Again she wagered that she would consume ten million sesterces at
a meal, and won her wager by drinking vinegar in which she had dissolved
a priceless pearl. All the enjoyments that the fancy of the cunning
enchantress could devise were spread around him, and he let the world
roll unheeded by while he yielded to their alluring charm.
Antony posed at festive tables in the character of the god Osiris, while
Cleopatra played the role of Isis. He issued coins which bore her head
and his. He gave away kingdoms and principalities in the East to please
her fancy. It was her hope and aim to lead her yielding lover to the
conquest of Rome, and to rule as empress of that imperial city.
But the madness of Antony led to destruction, not empire. The story of
his doings was repeated at Rome, where the voluptuary lost credit as
Octavius gained it. Antony's friends urged him to dismiss Cleopatra and
fight for the empire. Instead of this the infatuated madman divorced
Octavia and clung to the Egyptian queen.
This act led to an open rupture. Octavius, by authority of the senate,
declared war, not against Antony, but against Cleopatra. Antony was at
length roused. He gathered an army in haste, passed to Ephesus and
Athens, and everywhere levied men and collected ships. A last and great
struggle for the supreme headship of the Roman world was at hand.
Octavius was not skilled in war, but he had in Agrippa one of the ablest
of ancient generals, and was wise enough to trust all warlike operations
to him. Antony had strongly fortified himself at Actium, on the west
coast of Greece, while the strong fleet he had gathered lay in its
spacious bay. Here took place one of the decisive battles of the world's
history.
Antony had made the fatal mistake of bringing Cleopatra with him. Under
her advice he played the part of a poltroon instead of a soldier. His
chief officers, disgusted by his fascination, deserted him in numbers,
and, yielding to her urgent fears, he resolved to fly with the fleet and
abandon the army.
In this act of folly he failed. A strong gale from the south kept the
fleet for four days in the harbor. Then the ships of Octavius came up,
and the two fleets joined battle off the headland of Actium.