Antony and Lepidus, too, had to be reckoned with. Antony, as
the surviving consul, was the supreme lawful authority in the city; and
Lepidus and his soldiers might have a word to say if the body of their
great commander was flung into the river as the corpse of a malefactor.
Interest and fear suggested more moderate counsels. The conspirators
determined that Caesar's appointments must stand; his acts, it seemed,
must stand also; and his remains, therefore, must be treated with respect.
Imagination took another flight. Caesar's death might be regarded as a
sacrifice, an expiatory offering for the sins of the nation; and the
divided parties might embrace in virtue of the atonement. They agreed to
send for Antony, and invite him to assist in saving society; and they
asked Cicero to be their messenger. Cicero, great and many as his faults
might be, was not a fool. He declined to go on so absurd a mission. He
knew Antony too well to dream that he could be imposed on by fantastic
illusions. Antony, he said, would promise anything, but if they trusted
him, they would have reason to repent.[1] Others, however, undertook
the office. Antony agreed to meet them, and the next morning the Senate
was assembled in the Temple of Terra.
Antony presided as consul, and after a few words from him Cicero rose. He
disapproved of the course which his friends were taking; he foresaw what
must come of it; but he had been overruled, and he made the best of what
he could not help.
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