Augustus_ The Life of Rome's First Emperor - Anthony Everitt [59]
Hope was dying and Brutus began to consider suicide. It is hard to escape the impression that the defeated freedom fighter was consciously giving a public performance for the benefit of posterity. He quoted apt tags from the Medea of Euripides, and from another play about Heracles, who when dying said:
O wretched valour, you were but a name,
And yet I worshipped you as real indeed;
But now it seems you were but Fortune’s slave.
During the night it became clear that the four legions were no longer willing to obey orders and were planning surrender. For Brutus, this disloyalty was conclusive. At first light, someone said it was time for everyone to go and make their escape. Brutus jumped up and answered: “Yes, that’s right, but with our hands, not our feet!” He went round them all to bid them goodbye, saying that it was a great joy that not a single friend of his had failed him. He then walked a little distance with two or three companions. Grabbing one of their swords, he held the point to his left nipple and threw himself on it.
Marcus Junius Brutus was a man of contradictory qualities. In his arrogance and ruthlessness, he represented the worst of the old republican elite. Breaking the rule that senators should not engage in trade or moneylending, he practiced usury in the Middle East on a breathtaking scale. He turned coat after Pharsalus, and revealed to Julius Caesar that the fleeing Pompey’s likely destination was Egypt—a betrayal of trust, if ever there was one.
At the same time, Brutus was high-minded, an intellectual who took ideas seriously. He saw the assassination of Caesar as a sacrifice rather than a political act. He was a man with “a singularly gentle nature,” who feared civil war almost (although not quite) as much as tyranny.
Brutus lived long enough to see the dead Cato transcend history and enter legend, and the story of his own end suggests that he understood that the final contribution he could make to his cause was to be a martyr. Here his judgment was perfect. The image of Brutus as a defender of liberty has survived the ages.
After the battle, Octavian behaved extremely badly. This can be attributed in part to the fact that he was still ill. The previous four weeks had been the most testing of his short life and he must have been emotionally as well as physically prostrated. He may also have thought that retribution would be good policy. One way or the other, though, he was in the mood for blood. His conduct betrayed ice-cold anger.
The remaining units of the republican army surrendered. About fourteen thousand regular soldiers negotiated their surrender with the triumvirs in return for a pardon. Although many senior figures had died on the battlefield (among them Cato’s son), there were distinguished prisoners of war to deal with—the last defenders of the demolished Republic. Octavian decided that they should be put to death. He insulted the more distinguished of the captives who came before him for judgment. When one man humbly asked to be given a proper burial, Octavian merely replied: “That’s a matter for the carrion birds to decide.” It was reported that a father and son pleaded for mercy. Octavian determined that one of them would be spared. The decision would be made by casting lots or playing morra (a game in which one contestant thrust out some of his fingers, while his opponent simultaneously shouted the number of fingers thrust out; a correct guess won the round). They refused to play. The father offered his life for his son’s, and was executed. The son then committed suicide. Octavian watched them both die.
The remaining captives were so disgusted by his behavior that while they were being led off in chains they courteously saluted Antony and shouted obscene insults at Octavian.