The great conspiracy against Julius Caesar Kathryn Tempest

What would you do if you thought
your country was on the path to tyranny?

If you saw one man gaining too much power,
would you try to stop him?

Even if that man was
one of your closest friends and allies?

These were the questions haunting
Roman Senator Marcus Junius Brutus in 44 BCE,

the year Julius Caesar
would be assassinated.

Opposing unchecked power
wasn’t just a political matter for Brutus;

it was a personal one.

He claimed descent
from Lucius Junius Brutus,

who had helped overthrow the tyrannical
king known as Tarquin the Proud.

Instead of seizing power himself,

the elder Brutus
led the people in a rousing oath

to never again allow a king to rule.

Rome became a republic

based on the principle that no one man
should hold too much power.

Now, four and a half centuries later,
this principle was threatened.

Julius Ceasar’s rise
to the powerful position of consul

had been dramatic.

Years of military triumphs
had made him the wealthiest man in Rome.

And after defeating his rival
Pompey the Great in a bitter civil war,

his power was at its peak.

His victories and initiatives,
such as distributing lands to the poor,

had made him popular with the public,

and many senators vied for his favor
by showering him with honors.

Statues were built,
temples were dedicated,

and a whole month was renamed,
still called July today.

More importantly, the title of dictator,

meant to grant
temporary emergency powers in wartime,

had been bestowed upon Caesar
several times in succession.

And in 44 BCE,
he was made dictator perpetuo,

dictator for a potentially unlimited term.

All of this was too much for the senators

who feared a return to the monarchy
their ancestors had fought to abolish,

as well as those whose
own power and ambition

were impeded by Caesar’s rule.

A group of conspirators
calling themselves the liberators

began to secretly discuss
plans for assassination.

Leading them were
the senator Gaius Cassius Longinus

and his friend and brother-in-law, Brutus.

Joining the conspiracy was not
an easy choice for Brutus.

Even though Brutus had sided with Pompey
in the ill-fated civil war,

Caesar had personally intervened
to save his life,

not only pardoning him
but even accepting him as a close advisor

and elevating him to important posts.

Brutus was hesitant to conspire against
the man who had treated him like a son,

but in the end,

Cassius’s insistence and Brutus’s own fear
of Caesar’s ambitions won out.

The moment they had been waiting for
came on March 15.

At a senate meeting

held shortly before Caesar was to depart
on his next military campaign,

as many as 60 conspirators surrounded him,

unsheathing daggers from their togas
and stabbing at him from all sides.

As the story goes,

Caesar struggled fiercely
until he saw Brutus.

Despite the famous line, “Et tu, Brute?”
written by Shakespeare,

we don’t know Caesar’s actual dying words.

Some ancient sources claim
he said nothing,

while others record the phrase,
“And you, child?”,

fueling speculation that Brutus may have
actually been Caesar’s illegitimate son.

But all agree that when
Caesar saw Brutus among his attackers,

he covered his face and gave up the fight,

falling to the ground
after being stabbed 23 times.

Unfortunately for Brutus,

he and the other conspirators
had underestimated Caesar’s popularity

among the Roman public,

many of whom saw
him as an effective leader,

and the senate as a corrupt aristocracy.

Within moments of Caesar’s assassination,
Rome was in a state of panic.

Most of the other senators had fled,

while the assassins barricaded themselves
on the Capitoline Hill.

Mark Antony,
Caesar’s friend and co-consul,

was swift to seize the upper hand,

delivering a passionate speech
at Caesar’s funeral days later

that whipped the crowd into a frenzy
of grief and anger.

As a result, the liberators
were forced out of Rome.

The ensuing power vacuum
led to a series of civil wars,

during which Brutus,
facing certain defeat, took his own life.

Ironically, the ultimate result

would be the opposite of what
the conspirators had hoped to accomplish:

the end of the Republic

and the concentration of power
under the office of Emperor.

Opinions over the assassination of Caesar
were divided from the start

and have remained so.

As for Brutus himself,

few historical figures have inspired
such a conflicting legacy.

In Dante’s “Inferno,” he was placed
in the very center of Hell

and eternally chewed by Satan himself
for his crime of betrayal.

But Swift’s “Gulliver’s Travels”

described him as one of the most
virtuous and benevolent people to have lived.

The interpretation of Brutus as either
a selfless fighter against dictatorship

or an opportunistic traitor

has shifted with the tides
of history and politics.

But even today, over 2000 years later,

questions about the price of liberty,

the conflict between
personal loyalties and universal ideals,

and unintended consequences
remain more relevant than ever.