The night before the Ides of March, both Cæsar and his wife Calpurnia awoke from terrible dreams. Cæsar dreamed that he ascended into the skies and was received by Jupiter, and Calpurnia, awakening with a wild shriek, declared that she had dreamed that the roof of the house had fallen in, and that her husband had been stabbed by an assassin. When morning came, Calpurnia endeavored to persuade Cæsar not to go to the Senate, and he had consented to comply with her wish, until one of the conspirators, who had been appointed to accompany Cæsar to the Senate, came to the house of Julius Cæsar, and by his declarations that the people were waiting to confer upon their dictator the title of king throughout all the Roman dominions excepting Italy alone, he at length persuaded Cæsar to go with him. On the way to the Senate, a Greek teacher, having learned something of the plot, wrote a statement of it, and as Cæsar passed him he gave it to him, saying, “Read this immediately; it concerns yourself, and is of the utmost importance.” Cæsar made the attempt to do so, but the crowd of people who pressed towards him and handed him various petitions, as was the usual custom when a state officer appeared in public, prevented Cæsar from thus learning of the dreadful fate awaiting him. There was one warm friend of Cæsar, named Marc Antony, whom the conspirators feared might interfere with the successful completion of their plot, and so it was arranged that one of their number should engage the attention of Antony, while the petitioner chosen should advance and make his appeal to Cæsar, which should be the signal for the bloody deed. This conspirator made a pretence of asking Cæsar for the pardon of his brother, which request, as they had expected, Cæsar declined to grant. This occasioned an outburst of pretended fury, under cover of which the conspirators rushed upon Cæsar and stabbed him with their swords. Cæsar at first attempted to defend himself, but as Brutus, his former friend, also plunged his dagger into his side, he exclaimed, “And you, too, Brutus?” and drawing his mantle over his face, he fell at the feet of Pompey’s statue and expired. Now again the city of Rome was in wild tumult. The conspirators marched boldly through the streets with their bloody swords. They boasted of their shocking deed, and announced that they had delivered their country from a tyrant. The people, stunned by the daring of this terrible act, knew not what to think or do. Some barricaded their houses in fear; others hurried through the streets with blanched faces; and still others excitedly seized any kind of weapon near at hand, and joined a mob, which threatened to break out in awful violence, to avenge the death of Cæsar, their idol.