Against Cassius’s advice, Brutus had refused to have Antony killed. By implication, he must have judged that Antony was unlikely to seek to step into the Dictator’s shoes. Brutus was probably right. Antony did not have the prestige, the ability or the application to be a Caesar. An acute observer remarked: “If a man of Caesar’s genius could find no way out [of Rome’s problems], who will find one now?” Antony certainly had no solution.
Now in his late thirties, Antony was a handsome man, built like a bull and, according to Cicero, “as strong as a gladiator.” He was sexually promiscuous and hard drinking and retained the taste he had acquired as a young man for bad company: actors and prostitutes. A good soldier, he was popular with his men. He could summon up great resources of stamina and energy, but only when occasion demanded. His patchy record when he was in charge of Italy during the Dictator’s absences suggested a lack of aptitude for civilian administration. His style was straightforward, and when he said something he tended to mean it.
In all likelihood, Antony genuinely endorsed a return to constitutional methods and, if he had a future career path in mind, might have found in Pompey a safer model than in Caesar. A five-year governorship after his Consulship would establish him as the leading figure in the Republic. He could become the first man in Rome, as Pompey had been, without challenging the very foundations of Roman tradition and its familiar balanced rivalries.
Two important groups felt very differently. For the moment they were powerless because leaderless, but their minds were set on revenge and they waited for their opportunity. The first of these groups was the army. Tens of thousands of men were still armed—two legions in Italian Gaul, three in Transalpine Gaul and six in Macedonia, waiting for the now aborted Parthian expedition. There were six legions in Spain, and more troops in Africa and Asia Minor. So far as those who had served under Caesar were concerned, relations with their Commander-in-Chief had sometimes been stormy, but they had adored him. They wanted blood for blood.
Second, the aides and civil servants whom the Dictator had hired had lost their jobs. They were able and dedicated. At their head were Balbus and Oppius: everything they had been working for would be lost forever if they could not find a way of subverting the newly restored Republic. They soon realized that Antony was going to be of no use. But they had another unsuspected card in their hand, and in due course they would play it.
By contrast, Cicero was thrilled by the dramatic turn of events. A hurried note he wrote to one of the conspirators probably refers to the assassination. “Congratulations. For myself, I am delighted. You can count on my affection and active concern for your interests. I hope I have your affection and want to hear what you are doing and what is going on.”
He did not have to wait long for a briefing. During the evening of March 15 he visited the conspirators at the Capitol. He believed they should seize the initiative. With Antony’s disappearance, Brutus and Cassius were the senior officeholders and Cicero advised them to call a Senate meeting immediately for the following day. Proceduralists to the core, they preferred to wait and send a delegation to find the Consul. It was a bad mistake—and Cicero never let them forget it.
Realizing that his life was not in danger, Antony spent the night taking steps to secure his position. Lepidus led his legion from the island in the Tiber into the city and secured the Forum. Fires were lit to illuminate the streets and friends or associates of the conspirators were revealed scurrying to and from Senators’ houses in search of support. Antony went to the State House, where the widowed Calpurnia, with the help of Caesar’s secretary, handed over all the Dictator’s papers and a large sum of money. He announced that, in his capacity as Consul, he would convene the Senate at a temple near his house on March 17.
Antony also met with Balbus and the following year’s designated Consul, the gourmet and writer Hirtius. The former argued, unsurprisingly, for the severest measures against the assassins, the latter for caution. This disagreement boded ill for the dead Dictator’s party: it revealed a split which constitutionalists hurried to exploit.
On March 16 Brutus addressed a large gathering at the Capitol, but he made little impression. He was a plain, unemotional speaker and his performance more than justified Cicero’s low opinion of the Attic style of oratory. He let it be known that, had he been asked to give an address, he would have spoken much more passionately.
The conspirators stayed away from the Senate on the following day, although they were invited to attend. Die-hard Caesarians were a minority, but a lively debate started as to whether to declare Caesar a tyrant and give immunity to the assassins. Antony interrupted and went straight to the point. He ruled that if Caesar was condemned, it followed that his appointments would be illegal. Was this what the Senate wanted? Self-interest immediately concentrated minds. Senators jumped up and protested against having to go through another round of elections. Dolabella, so strong in his denunciation of the Dictator and all his works the previous day, was first among them, for he knew that his own position as Consul would be at risk.
Privately Cicero would have much preferred to have drawn a line under the past and agreed on a new start. But with veterans surrounding the meeting and Senators fearful of losing their offices and provincial commands, that was out of the question. So he spoke strongly in favor of Antony’s proposal. A compromise was found: all Caesar’s official acts were to be approved and, in return, the conspirators would not be punished. The formal decision was taken at a Senate meeting on March 18. A few weeks later Cicero justified himself to Atticus: “What else could we have done? By that time we were long sunk.”
One of the important results of the Senate’s ruling was the protection it gave to the leading conspirators. In addition to deciding the Consulships for the coming three years, Caesar had allocated provincial governorships. Brutus and Cassius were to have Macedonia and Asia in 43. Decimus Brutus was confirmed in the current year for Italian Gaul, where he would be the first conspirator to take charge of an army, for two legions were stationed there. If trouble arose, these provinces would provide power bases where the conspirators could legitimately establish themselves.
AS the Senate was about to break up, a noisy discussion broke out over Caesar’s will. His father-in-law, Lucius Calpurnius Piso Caesoninus, was asked not to announce its contents or conduct a public funeral for fear of disturbances. He angrily refused and, after renewed debate, permission was granted.
When published, the will inflamed opinion on the street, for it bequeathed Caesar’s gardens on the far side of the Tiber as a public park and left 300 sesterces to every Roman citizen. Popular with the masses, it was not calculated to please Antony, for it also disclosed that the chief heir to the Dictator’s fortune was Caius Octavius, his eighteen-year-old grandnephew. He was also designated as his adoptive son; from now on his formal name would be Caius Julius Caesar Octavianus (in English, Octavian). The news came as a complete surprise to everyone, including its young beneficiary. The will concerned his personal estate and did not mean that Caesar was giving him the Republic. Antony saw himself as the inheritor of Caesar’s political legacy and that was how he meant it to remain. He did not anticipate a teenage boy to be a serious threat.