On this day in history, a traitor fell on his own sword.
Julius Caesar is one of the most infamous figures in history, lauded by some as the greatest war strategist to have ever lived. In a sense, he has become a mythical figure, largely for his military career but even more so for his murder at the hands of his fellow senators on the Ides of March. One name besides Caesar’s, however, endures through time–Brutus, Caesar’s closest confidant and the final murderer. Shakespeare immortalized Caesar’s last words in the titular play: “Et tu, Brute?,” or “You too, Brutus?” and the name of Brutus has become as synonymous with betrayal as that of Judas, the biblical traitor.
Brutus’ real name is Marcus Junius Brutus, and his father was killed by the Roman general Pompey. He and Julius Caesar were close, with some scholars even theorizing that Caesar was Brutus’ real father despite Caesar being only 15 when Brutus was born. Caesar’s tumultuous political career put him at odds with Brutus later in life, which culminated in Brutus allying with those who plotted Caesar’s assassination.
Even after murdering Caesar, Brutus would find himself plunged into a conflict between the Republican forces of himself and Gaius Cassius, and the Liberators’ power of Mark Anthony and Octavian. This resulted in the Battle of Philippi, with the second battle occurring in 42 BC. During the conflict, Brutus was effectively stranded as many of his men began to desert. Ultimately, Brutus was cornered, starved, and inching towards defeat. Gaius Cassius, Brutus’ other conspirator, killed himself while facing failure.
On October 23, facing surrender and capture, Brutus took his own life with the same weapon that stole Caesar’s: a knife.
There is an interesting correlation between history’s greatest traitors and suicide. Brutus, Judas, Gaius Cassius and Mark Anthony—all of these men embraced betrayal for the sake of their own ambitions and purposes, only to take the “coward’s way out” rather than face the consequences they wrought. One may argue that, by choosing their deaths, these figures have preserved their dignity; however, dignity is instantly forfeited when one betrays a king, comrade or friend.
All that survives the churn of history is the duplicity that drove them to the knife. When discussing the murder of Caesar, no one’s first question is “Why?” but only “Et tu, Brute?”
