The arrogant general, who has announced himself dictator for life, ignores the soothsayers and his wife’s dreams and weeping and walks to his own death; he dies on the Senate floor at the feet of a statue of his greatest rival; his final conscious realisation is the dawning horror and humiliation that his own closest friend has killed him and that no one will come to help; his final act is to cover himself, and his dignity, with his toga, always the showman to the last. All this means that Julius Caesar is more myth than man;
