caught a chill, fell into fever, was carried two days in a litter over the mountains, lay sweating and shivering in a mountain hut, while my disordered mind replayed the events of the last half-year. Yet, even so deranged by wild fancies and feverish dreams, I never doubted my future. The star I had seen rise over the mountains of Illyria beckoned me on. No man can hope to triumph unless he is willing to be the instrument of the divine powers that shape this world. Julius appeared to me in delirium, in a bloody and torn toga. He urged me on, applauded what I had achieved, and commended my decision (which Agrippa had so fiercely opposed) to acquiesce in the election of his vilest assassin, Casca, to the tribunate. 'Revenge is a meal to be eaten cold.' Casca's hour would strike when he felt more secure.
* * *
In Rome, as one year passed into another, Cicero addressed the Senate, unwearied. The body of his speech was devoted to my praise. The honey with which I had coated his vanity was well worth what it cost me.
'I know intimately the young man's every feeling,' he said, lying. 'Nothing is dearer to him than the Free State, nothing has more weight with him than your influence, nothing is more desired by him than the good opinion of virtuous men, nothing more delightful to him than true glory ... I will venture even to pledge my word that Gaius Caesar will always be as loyal a citizen as he is to-day, and as our most fervent wishes and prayers desire.'
In the midst of his self-deception he spoke truth. I have always been a loyal citizen.
Cicero had lost all the discretion with which he had guarded his person for the last fifty years. He upbraided Antony in language that only victory could justify. He spoke warmly of me, but his praise was as insincere as his invective was heart-felt. My own heart responded less than it would now - youth is more impervious to approbation, which it takes as its due, than old age is - and my mind stood detached. But what Cicero said worked. The Senate clamoured to be permitted to honour me. They babbled in echo of Cicero: 'What godlike youth has come to save the Republic!' Maecenas said to me: 'There's not a man there would not slit your throat with a smile on his face.' I played my hand on his. They voted me a senator. (It is therefore, my sons, now forty years that I have been a member of the Conscript Fathers, the most noble assembly in the history of the world, even if its conduct and collective wisdom sometimes fall short of what they should be; never neglect to honour the Senate.) They associated me with the consuls Hirtius and Pansa in command of the army against Antony; they granted me the imperium of a pro-praetor.
'So far, so good,' Maecenas said. 'We are no longer adventurers, my dear .' He poured me a cup of wine - I added water. 'Let us drink to what we have been.'
'Let us drink rather to where we have arrived,' I said.
Agrippa raised his goblet: 'The future'.
('Oh dear,' Maecenas sighed, 'crowsfeet, the failure of performance before the death of desire, yes, ducky, the future.')
'To our glorious leader', said P. Salvidienus Rufus. Is it hindsight that lets me believe I cast him a look pregnant with scepticism and irony?
* * *
Antony sent me a letter:
Octavius: what fool's game are you playing? I don't know whether to be more amazed by your rash folly or by your ability to persuade these deluded half-witted soldiers to follow you. I don't ask for gratitude, but I must point out to you that you have chosen to associate yourself with those who murdered Julius (whom you now call your father) in the vilest way imaginable, against me, who served Julius loyally and serve his memory and his cause still. Don't you realize, you poor boy, that your new chums are as twisted as a dragon's tail? They approached Caesar pretending to be friends; I have held his blood-stained toga in my hand. Some of them owed everything, including their lives, to Caesar. Yet they did for him. They owe
* * *
In Rome, as one year passed into another, Cicero addressed the Senate, unwearied. The body of his speech was devoted to my praise. The honey with which I had coated his vanity was well worth what it cost me.
'I know intimately the young man's every feeling,' he said, lying. 'Nothing is dearer to him than the Free State, nothing has more weight with him than your influence, nothing is more desired by him than the good opinion of virtuous men, nothing more delightful to him than true glory ... I will venture even to pledge my word that Gaius Caesar will always be as loyal a citizen as he is to-day, and as our most fervent wishes and prayers desire.'
In the midst of his self-deception he spoke truth. I have always been a loyal citizen.
Cicero had lost all the discretion with which he had guarded his person for the last fifty years. He upbraided Antony in language that only victory could justify. He spoke warmly of me, but his praise was as insincere as his invective was heart-felt. My own heart responded less than it would now - youth is more impervious to approbation, which it takes as its due, than old age is - and my mind stood detached. But what Cicero said worked. The Senate clamoured to be permitted to honour me. They babbled in echo of Cicero: 'What godlike youth has come to save the Republic!' Maecenas said to me: 'There's not a man there would not slit your throat with a smile on his face.' I played my hand on his. They voted me a senator. (It is therefore, my sons, now forty years that I have been a member of the Conscript Fathers, the most noble assembly in the history of the world, even if its conduct and collective wisdom sometimes fall short of what they should be; never neglect to honour the Senate.) They associated me with the consuls Hirtius and Pansa in command of the army against Antony; they granted me the imperium of a pro-praetor.
'So far, so good,' Maecenas said. 'We are no longer adventurers, my dear .' He poured me a cup of wine - I added water. 'Let us drink to what we have been.'
'Let us drink rather to where we have arrived,' I said.
Agrippa raised his goblet: 'The future'.
('Oh dear,' Maecenas sighed, 'crowsfeet, the failure of performance before the death of desire, yes, ducky, the future.')
'To our glorious leader', said P. Salvidienus Rufus. Is it hindsight that lets me believe I cast him a look pregnant with scepticism and irony?
* * *
Antony sent me a letter:
Octavius: what fool's game are you playing? I don't know whether to be more amazed by your rash folly or by your ability to persuade these deluded half-witted soldiers to follow you. I don't ask for gratitude, but I must point out to you that you have chosen to associate yourself with those who murdered Julius (whom you now call your father) in the vilest way imaginable, against me, who served Julius loyally and serve his memory and his cause still. Don't you realize, you poor boy, that your new chums are as twisted as a dragon's tail? They approached Caesar pretending to be friends; I have held his blood-stained toga in my hand. Some of them owed everything, including their lives, to Caesar. Yet they did for him. They owe
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