Part 10

At the end of April, things looked very cheerful in Rome, were it not for the death of the two consuls. Octavian’s reputation was then already such, that people suspected him of having had the wound of Pansa poisoned by his surgeon, and Hirtius killed in the battle, in the midst of his soldiers, by assassins: it is true that his moral character was by no means too good for such things to be ascribed to him; at any rate, great suspicion attaches itself to him, as those deaths left him the stage quite free. To the consuls who might have followed, the republic could not have intrusted itself. Under these circumstances, C. Cæsar, as he is now called, took the command of the armies of the two consuls, and Antony, whose army was dispersed, crossed the Alps with a small troop. It would now have been in the power of M. Lepidus—an abandoned fellow whom Cæsar unfortunately had been intimate with, and who after his death, in defiance of all right, had managed to get the _pontificatus maximus_—and of Munatius Plancus, to put an end to the whole affair, as the two were staying in Gaul, and might have crushed Antony: but this they did not wish. Lepidus would not have raised a hand against Antony. The latter—perhaps it was a got up farce,—was received in his camp, and proclaimed _imperator_ by his soldiers and those of Plancus. This happened in the course of the summer, that season beginning in Italy as early as the seventh or eighth of May.

In this orphan state of the republic, Octavianus unmasked his real sentiments, and got his veterans loudly to demand that the consulship should be given him. Before that, he had applied to Cicero, proposing that they should be consuls together, in which case he would be entirely guided by Cicero’s advice. But Cicero did not fall into the snare: he saw that everything was hopeless. These last months after June were the most unhappy ones which he had ever known; so that it is no wonder that he got so tired of life, and would not even try to escape from death. The veterans with threats demanded the consulship for Octavian; but Cicero spoke against it quite as resolutely as any other senator. Surely here are no signs of cowardice, for which his excessive sensibility has indeed too often been mistaken!—They were, however, at last obliged to give way, and on the 19th of August, Octavian had himself proclaimed consul, together with his cousin Q. Pedius. There was now no more hope left for the lovers of their country: the senate was ready for slavery, and Cicero withdrew himself altogether. One of the first acts of the new consuls, was that frightful _Lex Pedia_ by which criminal proceedings were instituted against all the accomplices in the murder of Cæsar. Judges were appointed, who were _pro forma_ to summon Brutus, Cassius, and the other conspirators; and as these last, of course, did not surrender, they were condemned for contempt and proscribed:—they were outlawed and a price was set on their heads. This was quite against all Roman law; for whoever of his own free will renounced the republic, might always save his life. Dec. Brutus, whose army had been made disaffected by Octavian, fled to the borders of Gaul, and there he was murdered by a guest-friend. Octavian also reproached the senate with having ill-treated him, and with having slighted him after the war of Mutina; yet as he had the _potestas prætoria_, the senate could not indeed have done more for him than it did.

It was now November. Antony returned with Lepidus and Plancus and their army, and Octavian marched to the neighbourhood of Bologna to meet them. Lepidus, however, acted as a mediator, and the three came together on an islet in the river Reno, where they agreed to share among themselves for five years the government of the Roman world as _triumviri reipublicæ constituendæ_. The idea of such a magistracy was not a new one, as it had already been legally instituted once before, after the time of the Licinian law,[20] under quite different circumstances: it is also possible that on some other occasion there may also have been something of the kind. Italy was to be administered by them in common with consular power: of the provinces, Lepidus was to have Spain and Narbonnese Gaul; Antony, Cisalpine, Lugdunensian, and Belgic Gaul; Octavian, Africa, Sicily, and Sardinia. With regard to the eastern provinces nothing was settled. And likewise they first began with publishing a proscription of seventeen persons. Antony gave up his uncle as a victim; Lepidus, his brother,—or rather he demanded his death; as for Octavian, the historians say that it was only after a struggle that he made up his mind to sacrifice Cicero. Yet this cannot by any means have been hard for him to do: on the contrary, it must have been a relief to him to get rid of a benefactor, whom he had so beguiled and deceived, and to whom he had so often made vows of gratitude and of devotion to the republic. And moreover, this is only stated by Velleius and those writers who follow the historians of the Augustan age. How Livy treated this part of history, we unfortunately do not know for certain; but it is very likely that he was more free-spoken than others: we are told that Augustus called him a Pompeian, and a fragment also of his with regard to Cicero displays much boldness. It is, on the whole, astonishing how openly the writers of Augustus’ times—Asinius Pollio for instance—spoke out what they thought of the state of things in their day: this was partly because it was looked upon as the opinion of private persons, and perhaps also because these writings were not immediately circulated. A second proscription followed of a hundred and thirty senators, which was afterwards still further enlarged. These lists were much worse than those of Sylla. These last were the offspring of party spirit alone,—plunder was only a secondary object, or at most it followed as a thing of course; nor was it even for Sylla’s own benefit,—whereas now in most cases there was less of revenge than rapacity. Men who had never given any offence whatever, were made victims because they were rich, and of every one who was proscribed the goods and chattels were confiscated.

Cicero was in his Tusculan villa when the proscription list came out. He was undecided whether he ought not at once to await his death; yet he let himself be persuaded by his brother to flee. They went to the sea coast as far as Astura, to look out for a ship; and thence his brother returned, only to be murdered. Cicero took a fishing boat; but being tired of life, he had not the least wish to escape, and the murderer was welcome to him. Much as he honoured Cato, he did not think it right to lay hands on his own life: he therefore wished to leave it to Providence, whether he should flee to Sextus Pompey, who was already master of Sicily, or to Brutus, or any where else. Had he got to Sex. Pompey, he would have very likely died a natural death; for he would have lived to see the time when the latter made his peace, and all the proscribed persons of note who were with him returned to Rome. But Providence willed otherwise. The wind was contrary; he became sea sick, and found his wretched life not worth having: the sailors wanted to put back, and he allowed them to land near Mola di Gaëta, in the neighbourhood of one of his estates, to wait till the storm was over. Here he was betrayed by one of his own people, and a centurion, Popillius Lænas,—a man of a very distinguished plebeian clan, whose crime was perhaps exaggerated by the rhetorical invention that Cicero had once defended him,—overtook him. Cicero’s friends had prevailed upon him to let himself be carried away in a litter; but when his pursuers had come up with him, he ordered it to be set down, and, forbidding his slaves to fight for him, he himself stretched out his head to receive the deathblow. He died on the seventh of December 709, with great courage. His son, who was at that time with Brutus in Macedonia, still behaved in such a way as to give hopes of what he would become: he afterwards plunged into the lowest sensuality, and the coarsest debauchery. For all that, he was a man of much intellect, and he had his father’s wit; but he wanted all the moral qualities, which distinguished the first Cicero.

I recommend to you Middleton’s Life of Cicero: it is written not only in a very fine style, but also in a very fine spirit, whereas Hooke is revoltingly unjust to Cicero, and his diffuse work after all is only patchwork. Until the time of my youth, Cicero was ever revered as a great name, like a god before whom one bows the knee, albeit a θεὸς ἄγνωτος. Throughout the whole of the middle ages also, he stood high in men’s esteem: great minds, like Dante, St. Bernard, Petrarch and others, knew how to enter into his ideas, and could admire him. This feeling rose even to a greater height at the time of the revival of learning. The mania of the _Ciceroniani_ in the sixteenth century is well known: it was held to be quite a heresy to use a phrase which was not to be found in Cicero. Some have been made quite dull by it; others, on the contrary, have thus formed a noble style: of this Manutius is an instance. Towards the end of the eighteenth century, a reaction began: people neglected, and even disdained the Latin language and literature, whilst the study of Greek got more in fashion. This was carried still farther during the first ten years of this century, when distinguished philologists would look down upon Cicero with scorn, and sneer at his twaddle, especially in his philosophical writings. Nowadays an enlightened and just estimation of Greek and Latin philology seems to have come into vogue. The philologist’s true standing, according to Quintilian’s saying, is to be judged of by his love of Cicero’s Latin: on the whole, nothing better can be said of him as a writer than this passage of Quintilian. Yet his style is not without its faults: in his earlier writings, particularly in the speeches against Verres, there are passages which are quite unworthy of him, and which he himself also afterwards criticised so severely in his Brutus. In his latest writings, on the other hand, he has not gone down, nor become dry; but there is always a freshness about him. The real spring-time of his life was the time of his prætorship and consulate. After his return, the oration _pro Cælio_ is particularly distinguished; in the later ones, we must take the distress of the times into account. The famous second Philippic, as compared with the rest, has in my opinion been much overrated by the rhetoricians: wherever he gives himself up to vehemence, he exaggerates, which was not natural to him. His mind in fact was thoroughly benevolent, and wherever he shows himself in this light, he is finest. M. Seneca in the Suasoria gives us opinions on Cicero by Livy, Asinius Pollio, and Cassius Severus, which are most remarkable.

Cicero’s death ends for us this unhappy year. During its course, Brutus and Cassius had more and more established their power in the east: the former had made himself master of Macedonia, and been acknowledged by the legions; the latter whilst Cassius was in possession of Syria, had hemmed in Dolabella near Laodicea, and compelled him to surrender. This fellow, though he had at Rome as _consul suffectus_ overthrown the statue of Cæsar, had afterwards, when in Asia, killed Trebonius, who indeed, like Decius Brutus, had formerly been Cæsar’s friend, and therefore was one of the most guilty of his murderers: for this, he was now condemned as a traitor, and put to death. Cassius was still most highly popular in Syria owing to the Parthian war; the legions declared for him, and the whole of the country submitted to him. At the end of the year, Brutus and Cassius were masters of the whole of the east, of the Adriatic sea, of Macedonia, and of Achaia, as far as the frontiers of Egypt. Brutus kept C. Antonius, a brother of the triumvir, as a prisoner in Macedonia; but when the tidings came of the proscriptions at Rome, he had him executed.

In the unfortunate issue of the war of Philippi, we may see the irresistible sway of what the ancients called _fatum_: one untoward circumstance followed close upon another, and everything which seemed to promise well took an unlucky turn. This was especially the case with the long expeditions of Brutus and Cassius in Asia. Though indeed these were of some advantage to them in bringing in money and soldiers, as they could both of them increase their resources and make conscriptions; they became notwithstanding the cause of their mishap. The chastisement of Xanthus in Lycia by Brutus, the taking of Rhodes by Cassius, and other things of the same kind, belong rather to the later Greek history than to this. Whilst they were training and recruiting their troops, they ought indeed to have kept themselves in Macedon and Greece, and have made it impossible for the triumvirs to bring together large masses; they would have compelled them to march a long way round through Illyricum, and should the enemy have landed at last, they might have prevented them from undertaking anything. Thus the chances would have been considerably in their favour. Fortune was likewise against their fleet. The two commanders, Statius Murcus and Domitius Ahenobarbus, who were stationed in the Illyrian waters, do not seem to have neglected anything; but the wind was fair for the triumvirs, and they landed two or three times in several squadrons on the Illyrian coast, and advanced from thence to Macedon. Here Brutus and Cassius had no troops, although they were not at all in want of soldiers; so that they must have withdrawn them to Thrace. It was not until the armies of Octavius and Antony had established themselves in Greece, and had subdued the whole of it, that their two antagonists concentrated their forces in Asia, and passed over the Hellespont into Macedon. Near Philippi, in the neighbourhood of the gold mine of Pangæus, there is between the mountains and the sea, where the road leads from Amphipolis to Thrace, a narrow defile which the triumvirs had occupied. Brutus was guided by a faithful Thracian ally, and so he turned the pass, and encamped over against the enemy near Philippi: the fleet was in the western seas. Before he started for this march, Brutus, either at Sardis or at Abydus, saw the vision which called itself his evil genius, and announced that it would meet him again at Philippi. The question now was, what was to be done. Cassius, an experienced general, rather shrank from bringing matters to a quick decision; but the general voice of the army called for the attack. The troops stood faithful to their generals, and no desertion took place: it would therefore have been possible to protract the war. Had Brutus and Cassius caused themselves to be joined by their fleet, which they did not know that they could do, and then acted for a considerable time on the defensive, Octavian and Antony would very likely have been forced for want of provisions to retreat; but unhappily they determined upon giving battle. In the army of Brutus and Cassius were the Romans of the highest rank; the greater part of these had been proscribed. Most of those who had saved their lives were now with them; only a few were with Sextus Pompey in Sicily, who had a large fleet of pirate ships, with which, however, Brutus and Cassius, as men of honour, and, even for the simple reason that they would thus have made themselves hateful to the people, would not unite themselves. The battle was fought; Brutus leading the left, Cassius the right wing (or rather, according to the ancient way of speaking, the left and right _horns_; for the term wing supposes a centre, whereas there were two separate armies, which were drawn up close together). In the battle, the _fatum_ again showed its influence. Brutus overcame the enemy with great ease; and the one who distinguished himself most under him, was M. Valerius Messalla, a very young man, whom Cicero much loved, and whom he had recommended to him. In the reign of Augustus also, Messalla afterwards bore a high character. Brutus opposed Octavian; Cassius, Antony. Octavian is generally accused—Antony taxed him with it in his letters, and in public—of not having taken the least share in the battle; his army was utterly defeated. The excuses which are pleaded for him are very sorry ones; but as the command had devolved upon Agrippa, it certainly had not fallen into worse hands. In the Julian centre, a stout resistance was made; the right wing, however, was undeniably beaten, and the camp of Octavian taken. That of Cassius was not forced; but his troops were routed before it. Owing to the centre standing its ground, it was not possible to see the success of the army on the left wing; so that Cassius was led to think that all was lost. He sent an officer to bring him a report of the state of things on the other side, and after waiting a very long time for his return, matters appeared to him so desperate, that he bade his servant take away his life. The suspicion was already afloat among the ancients, that the slave behaved as a traitor, and did this without being ordered. Brutus was very downcast about the issue; twenty days passed, and both parties were still in the same position to each other as before: all was not yet lost. Had Brutus known that on the very day of the first battle his fleet had gained a complete victory, he would certainly have sent for it, and would have remained firm to his plan of keeping on the defensive. He had much trouble to get provisions, and it pained him to see that his troops were as lawless as those of the enemy: he had been obliged to promise them the plunder of Thessalonica and Lacedæmon in case of victory. On the day only that he yielded to the wish of his army to decide the war at once, he heard from the prisoners of the victory of his fleet; but low-spirited as he was, he would not believe it,—the messengers sent to him had been intercepted,—and he let himself be brought to an engagement. In this battle, his troops did not behave with the same gallantry as before, and they were signally beaten: Brutus escaped with a small band to a hill. As he could not reach the sea, and life would only be to him a most heavy burthen, he called upon his faithful servants to do the last duty to him; and on their refusing it, he fell upon his sword.

He was only in his thirty-seventh year when he died: at the time of Cicero’s consulship therefore, he was fifteen years old.[21]

Antony at that time saved many a life, whereas Octavian displayed a cold-blooded sneering cruelty which was revolting to the feelings: of this the strangely impartial account in Suetonius bears evidence. Antony had the body of Brutus solemnly buried: it is true that he likewise caused the son of Hortensius to be put to death, as he laid to his door the execution of his brother Caius. Most of the proscribed who were still alive, now killed themselves. Strikingly enough, among these was the father of that Livia who afterwards became the wife of Augustus, and the whole of whose family belonged to Pompey’s party: her first husband, Tiberius Claudius Nero, even tried to get up an insurrection in favour of the last of the proscribed.

After the battle, the fleets were still untouched. The army took service with the conquerors; many of the soldiers were scattered, many also returned unobserved to Italy; especially the young volunteers, among whom was also the poet Horace. From Athens, where he was pursuing his studies with other young Romans, he had joined the army of Brutus, who gave them appointments as tribunes. He was afterwards very badly off, until he was recommended to Mæcenas by whose means he got his pardon.[22]

THE PERUSIAN WAR. PEACE OF BRUNDUSIUM. PEACE OF MISENUM. EVENTS DOWN TO THE BATTLE OF ACTIUM. END OF THE CIVIL WAR.

Octavian led his legions back to Italy. Antony remained in the East, and was really master of all the countries on the other side of the Adriatic. Immediately after the victory, he behaved everywhere with humanity, and what was heard from Italy of Octavian was more terrible than what those countries suffered from him: moreover the provincials were well accustomed to ill usage, which in this case was after all such as might be borne. In Greece, he was forbearing; in Asia Minor only, he extorted immense contributions; the inhabitants there had had already before to pay to Cassius the tribute for the next five years, and now Antony demanded new ones. Yet these countries were always sure to recover after a short time.

While he was on his way through these provinces to Cilicia, he summoned Cleopatra to come to him: in this he was either led by the fame of her beauty, or by pride. Cleopatra, conscious of her irresistible charms, repaired fearlessly to him, although she had formerly supported Cassius, and done many things besides which must have given offence. With a fairylike pomp, on galleys bedecked with gold and purple, she sailed up the Cydnus to Tarsus, where she invited Antony to a banquet, who was quite dazzled by this enchanting scene:—there were but few Romans who understood how to display such splendid luxury. He fell irretrievably into her nets, and she went about with him in Asia, and he accompanied her to Alexandria.