The joy with which these tidings had been received was but very brief.  Of the three generals named in the vote of thanks the two who had been loyal to the republic were dead; the third, the young Octavius, had found the opportunity for which he had been waiting of betraying it.  The soldiers were ready to do his bidding, and he resolved to seize by their help the inheritance of power which his uncle had left him.  Antony had fled across the Alps, and had been received by Lepidus, who was in command of a large army in that province, Lepidus resolved to play the part which Crassus had played sixteen years before.  He brought about a reconciliation between Octavius and Antony, as Crassus had reconciled Pompey and Caesar, and was himself admitted as a third into their alliance.  Thus was formed the Second Triumvirate.

The three chiefs who had agreed to divide the Roman world between them met on a little island near Bononia (the modern Bonogna) and discussed their plans.  Three days were given to their consultations, the chief subject being the catalogue of enemies, public and private, who were to be destroyed.  Each had a list of his own; and on Antony’s the first name was Cicero.  Lepidus assented, as he was ready to assent to all the demands of his more resolute colleagues; but the young Octavius is said to have long resisted, and to have given way only on the last day.  A list of between two and three thousand names of senators and knights was drawn up.  Seventeen were singled out for instant execution, and among these seventeen was Cicero.  He was staying at his home in Tusculum with his brother Quintus when the news reached him.  His first impulse was to make for the sea-coast.  If he could reach Macedonia, where Brutus had a powerful army, he would, for a time at least, be safe.  The two brothers started.  But Quintus had little or nothing with him, and was obliged to go home to fetch some money.  Cicero, who was himself but ill provided, pursued his journey alone.  Reaching the coast, he embarked.  When it came to the point of leaving Italy his resolution failed him.  He had always felt the greatest aversion for camp life.  He had had an odious experience of it when Pompey was struggling with Caesar for the mastery.  He would sooner die, he thought, than make trial of it again.  He landed, and traveled twelve miles towards Rome.  Some afterwards said that he still cherished hopes of being protected by Antony; others that it was his purpose to make his way into the house of Octavius and kill himself on his hearth, cursing him with his last breath, but that he was deterred by the fear of being seized and tortured.  Any how, he turned back, and allowed his slaves to take him to Capua.  The plan of taking refuge with Brutus was probably urged upon him by his companions, who felt that this gave the only chance of their own escape.  Again he embarked, and again he landed.  Plutarch tells a strange story of a flock of ravens that settled on the yardarms of his ship while he was