When the people were in such a mood, Rome was no place for the
conspirators. They scattered over the Empire; Decimus Brutus, Marcus
Brutus, Cassius, Cimber, Trebonius retreated to the provinces which Caesar
had assigned them, the rest clinging to the shelter of their friends. The
legions--a striking tribute to Roman discipline--remained by their eagles,
faithful to their immediate duties, and obedient to their officers, till
it could be seen how events would turn. Lepidus joined the army in Gaul;
Antony continued in Rome, holding the administration in his hands and
watching the action of the Senate. Caesar was dead. But Caesar still
lived. "It was not possible that the grave should hold him." The people
said that he was a god, and had gone back to heaven, where his star had
been seen ascending;[5] his spirit remained on earth, and the vain
blows of the assassins had been but "malicious mockery." "We have killed
the king," exclaimed Cicero in the bitterness of his disenchantment, "but
the kingdom is with us still;" "we have taken away the tyrant: the tyranny
survives." Caesar had not overthrown the oligarchy; their own incapacity,
their own selfishness, their own baseness had overthrown them. Caesar had
been but the reluctant instrument of the power which metes out to men the
inevitable penalties of their own misdeeds.
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