The historians' history of the world in twenty-five volumes, volume 05

by Unknown

CHAPTER XXIV. FROM PHARSALIA TO THE DEATH OF CATO

CÆSAR IN EGYPT

The nobles betrayed their own cause at Pharsalia by their want of courage and self-devotion. It is in vain that Lucan rounds a poetical period with the names of the Lepidi, the Metelli, the Corvini, and the Torquati, whom he supposes to have fallen in the last agony of the defence; of all the great chiefs whom we know as leaders in the Pompeian camp, Domitius alone perished on that day, and even he was killed in flight.

The fragments of the mighty ruin were scattered far away from the scene of disaster. Pompey and a few adherents fled, as we have seen, in one direction to Larissa; a larger number escaped by the road to Illyricum, and met again within the walls of Dyrrhachium. The principal reserve of the Pompeian forces was there commanded by M. Cato, and there also was the common resort of the wavering and dissatisfied, such as Varro and Cicero, who wished to secure their own safety in either event. The fleets of the republic, under Octavius and C. Cassius, still swept the seas triumphantly; the latter had recently burnt thirty-five Cæsarian vessels in the harbour of Messana. But the naval commanders were well aware that their exploits could have little influence on the event of a contest which was about to be decided by the whole military force of the Roman world; and forming their own plans, and acting for the most part independently, they began more and more to waver in their fidelity to the common cause. As soon as the event of the great battle became known, the squadrons of the allies made the best of their way home, while some, such as the Rhodians, attached themselves to the conqueror.

Then the soldiers in garrison at Dyrrhachium became turbulent. They plundered the magazines and burnt the transports on which they were destined to be conveyed to some distant theatre of protracted warfare. The desertion of the allies, the mutinous spirit of the troops, and the report of the numerous adhesions which Cæsar was daily receiving from the most conspicuous of the nobles, convinced Cato that the last hope of keeping the party together, and maintaining the struggle effectually, depended upon the fate of Pompey himself. In the event of the destruction of the acknowledged chief of the senate, he only contemplated restoring to the shores of Italy the troops confided to him, and then betaking himself to retirement from public affairs in some remote province. While the fatal catastrophe was yet unknown he withdrew from Dyrrhachium to Corcyra, where the headquarters of the naval force were established; and there he offered to surrender his command to Cicero as his superior in rank. But the consular declined the perilous honour, and refused to take any further part in a contest which, from the first, had inspired him with distrust and remorse. The young Cneius Pompey had urged the exercise of summary vengeance upon whomsoever should threaten defection at such a crisis, and it was with difficulty he was restrained from using personal violence against Cicero, when he declared his intention of embarking at once for Italy. The recreant consular’s life was barely saved by Cato’s vigorous interference. At Corcyra many of the fugitives from the field of battle rejoined their confederates. Among them were Scipio and Afranius, the former of whom now assumed the command of their combined forces, and it was upon him, as soon as the fact of Pompey’s death was ascertained, that the leadership of the party most naturally devolved.

Meanwhile, Cæsar followed up his success with unabated activity. He allowed his soldiers at the most only two days’ repose on the scene of their triumph, and amidst the spoils they had acquired. His care was divided between improving the victory he had gained in the East, and securing his acquisitions in the West. With the latter view he ordered Antony to return to Italy with a large part of his forces, and watch over his interests in that quarter, where he apprehended that some of the beaten faction might hazard a descent upon the centre of his resources. He also required his lieutenant Calenus to complete, without delay, the subjugation of southern Greece. Athens had not yet opened her gates to him, but the event of the great battle determined her to obey his summons. The long resistance this city had made exposed it, by the laws of ancient warfare, to the vengeance of the conqueror; but Cæsar ordered it to be spared, for the sake, as he said, of its illustrious dead. The Peloponnesus was now speedily evacuated by the forces of the republic, and Calenus occupied the points on the coast where he anticipated the possibility of fresh intrusion. Scipio had landed at Patræ, probably to receive the remnant of the Pompeian garrisons in that province, but straightway abandoned it, and stretched his sails for Africa.

Cæsar devoted himself to the pursuit of Pompey with the utmost energy and impatience, being anxious not merely to prevent his assembling a new armament, but if possible to secure his person. He pushed forward with a squadron of cavalry, and was followed by a single legion. He reached Amphipolis just after the fugitive’s departure, and, taking the route of Asia by land, crossed the Hellespont with a few small vessels. In the passage he fell in with the squadron of C. Cassius, who had been despatched to the Euxine to stimulate or co-operate with Pharnaces, king of Pontus, whose promised succours were urgently demanded. It was remarked as an extraordinary instance of the good fortune ever supposed to wait upon the mighty conqueror, that the mere terror of his name induced Cassius to surrender his galleys to a few fishing-boats. There can be little doubt that the republican commander had already made up his mind to change his side, when accident threw this favourable opportunity in his way. As a man of influence and authority, as well as an able soldier, he was well received by his adopted leader, and the good offices attributed to Brutus could hardly have been required to conciliate to him the favour of Cæsar.

Having now arrived on the Asiatic coast, Cæsar advanced more leisurely. He had received information of Pompey’s flight to Egypt, and was aware that, if the suppliant were received there, he could not be dislodged except by regular military operations. He was content therefore to await the arrival of ampler succours, and employed himself in the meanwhile with repairing the injuries which Scipio was accused of having inflicted upon the unfortunate provincials. He earned their favourable opinion by the remission of taxes, and by restraining the exactions of the farmers of the revenue. He saved a second time from spoliation the treasures of the Ephesian Diana, which Ampius, an adherent of the opposite party, had been on the point of seizing. These benefits he accompanied with further favours and distinctions, and then handed over the government of the province to Calvinus, to whom he entrusted three legions, to defend it against Pharnaces and the other oriental allies of the senate. Cæsar retained only two legions about his own person, and those so much reduced in number as to contain much less, than half their proper complements. The whole of this force consisted of only 3200 infantry, and eight hundred cavalry, and with these he sailed without hesitation for Egypt. It was only a few days after the death of Pompey that he appeared thus attended off the port of Alexandria. No sooner was his arrival known than Theodotus hastened to meet him on board his vessel, and brought to him the head and ring of his murdered rival. The latter might be of important service to assure the wavering of the event which had occurred, and Cæsar took and preserved it for that purpose; but from the mangled head he turned away with horror, and gave orders, with tears in his eyes, that it should be consumed with the costliest spices. The ashes he caused to be deposited in a shrine which he erected to the avenging Nemesis. The murderers were confounded and alarmed at the feeling he exhibited, nor were they less astonished, perhaps, at the perfect confidence with which he disembarked upon their coast, and claimed with his handful of followers to settle the concerns of a powerful kingdom.

It had been Cæsar’s policy to spare the wealth of the provinces which he wished to attach to his side, and his system was directly opposed to the confiscation of his enemies’ estates; but his want of money was urgent, and it was in arranging the quarrels of a dependent kingdom that the best opportunity might be found for exacting it. This undoubtedly was the urgent motive which impelled him to intrude upon the affairs of a jealous people, in which his principal designs were in no way implicated. When Auletes came to Rome to negotiate his restoration to the throne, he had purchased the support of the leaders of the senate by the most lavish bribes. Cæsar himself had received the promise of seventeen millions and a half of drachmæ; an obligation which had never yet been discharged. He now confined his demand to ten millions, but sternly rejected the representations of Pothinus, who pleaded for a longer time for the payment of so large a sum. But even at the moment of landing Cæsar was warned of the difficulties into which he was rushing. His military force was contemptible; it was upon the dignity of his title as consul of the republic that he could alone rely. Accordingly, he entered the streets of Alexandria with all the insignia of his office, thereby offending the populace, who were easily persuaded that he offered an intentional insult to their independence. A riot ensued, in which many of the Cæsarian soldiers lost their lives. Cæsar felt that he had mistaken the character of the nation, and underrated their jealousy of foreigners.

But policy would not allow him to give way. He summoned the rival sovereigns before him, and offered to decide their disputes in the name of the republic. Ptolemy left his camp at Pelusium, and gave Cæsar a meeting in the palace of Alexandria, where he soon found himself watched and detained as a hostage. Cleopatra had already implored the consul’s mediation, and now, when her brother or his ministers obstructed her approach to his presence, she caused herself to be carried by stratagem into his chamber. The fame of Cleopatra’s beauty, which was destined to become second only to Helen’s in renown, was already bruited widely abroad. She had been seen by Mark Antony during the brief inroad of Gabinius into Egypt; and grave legates of the republic had brought back to Rome glowing reports of the girlish charms of the Lagid princess. She was indeed, at the time of her introduction to Cæsar, not twenty years old, and her wit and genius in the arts of female conquest were yet unknown. Perhaps it was fortunate for their celebrity that the man upon whom she was first to prove their power was already predisposed to submit. Cæsar forthwith undertook the championship of the distressed beauty, for it suited his purpose to play off her claims against the haughty minions of her rival. In devoting himself to her cause he did not deny himself the reward of his gallantry; but while he indulged in the luxuries and dissipations of the most sensual of capitals, he kept his eye steadily fixed on his main object, and at the same time carefully guarded his own person from the machinations of his unscrupulous enemies.

The ministers of the young king were well assured that the reconciliation of the brother and sister would be the signal for their own disgrace. They employed every artifice to rouse the passions of a jealous mob, and alarmed the fanaticism of priests and people against a foreigner, whom they accused of desecrating their holy places, of eating accursed meats, and violating their most cherished usages. Cæsar had despatched an urgent message to Calvinus to hasten to his succour with all the forces he could muster. But while waiting for the arrival of reinforcements, the necessity of which he now keenly felt, he dissembled every appearance of apprehension, and occupied himself in public with the society of Cleopatra, or in conversation with the Egyptian sages, and inquiry into their mysterious lore. His judgment was no more mastered by a woman’s charms than by the fascinations of science; but the occupation of Alexandria was essential to his plans, and he assumed the air of curiosity or dissipation to veil his ulterior designs. With this view he visited with affected interest all the vaunted wonders of the city of the Ptolemies, and even proposed, it was said, to relinquish his schemes of ambition to discover the sources of the Nile. At the first outset of his career of glory, his imagination had been fired at Gades by the sight of Alexander’s statue; now that the highest summit of power was within his reach, he descended to the tomb of the illustrious conqueror, and mused perhaps on the vanity of vanities beside his shrouded remains.

The young king, though kept in hardly disguised captivity within the walls of his palace, had found means to communicate to his adherents the alarm and indignation with which he viewed the apparent influence of his sister over the Roman commander. The Macedonian dynasty which had reigned for three centuries in Alexandria was not unpopular with its Egyptian subjects. Though the descendants of Lagus had degenerated from the genius and virtues of the first sovereigns of their line, their sway had ever been mild and tolerant, and both conquerors and conquered reposed in equal security under the shadow of their paternal throne. Achillas, the general of the king’s armies, had a force of twenty thousand men, consisting principally of the troops which Gabinius had employed in the restoration of Auletes, and which had been left behind for his protection. These men had for the most part formed connections with the natives, and had imbibed their sentiments at the same time that they adopted their manners. The camp was filled, moreover, with a crowd of deserters and fugitive slaves from all parts of the Roman Empire, for Alexandria was the common resort of the desperate and abandoned, who purchased impunity for their crimes by enlisting in the king’s service. These were the men who had placed Auletes on his throne, who had murdered the sons of the Roman legate Gabinius, and expelled Cleopatra from her royal inheritance. They were the reckless agents of the populace of Alexandria in each capricious mood of turbulence or loyalty. They were now prepared to join in the general outcry against the intrusion of the Romans, and encouraged by their leader and Arsinoe, the younger sister of their sovereign, they entered the city, and imparted vigour and concentration to the hostile ebullitions of the multitude.

[48-47 B.C.]

Roman Trumpeter

(After De Montfaucon)

Cæsar awaited anxiously the expected succours; in the meantime he sought to avert the danger by concession, and while he proposed that Ptolemy and Cleopatra should resume their joint sovereignty, he was prepared to satisfy the claims of Arsinoe by surrendering to her, together with another younger brother, the province of Cyprus. But before these arrangements were completed, the discontent of the Alexandrians revived with more alarming violence. A skirmish which occurred in the streets between the Roman soldiers and the Egyptians determined Cæsar to take the bold step of seizing and burning the royal fleet. It was thus only that he could hope to keep the coasts open for the approach of his reinforcements. The city of Alexandria stretched along the sea-shore, and its port was formed by an island named Pharos, which lay over against it, and was connected with the mainland in the middle by a narrow causeway and bridge. The island was occupied by the villas of the Alexandrians and the suburbs of the great city. Its position enabled it to command the entrances of the double port which were apparently much narrower than at the present day. As a military position therefore it was invaluable, and while the tumult was raging in the streets Cæsar transported into it a portion of his troops, and seized the tower or fortress which secured its possession. At the same time he continued to occupy a portion of the palace on the mainland, which held the keys of communication with Pharos by the causeway. He strengthened the defences with additional works, destroying in every direction the private houses of the citizens, which being built entirely of stone, even to the floors and roofs, furnished him with abundant materials for his massive constructions. The Egyptian troops set to work with no less energy in forming triple barricades of hewn stone at the entrance of every street, and thus entrenching themselves in a fortress in the heart of their city. They looked forward already to the arrival of winter, and were convinced that the enemy must fall eventually into their hands, when he could no longer derive supplies from beyond the sea.

But in the meanwhile the shade of Pompey began to be avenged on his murderers. At the commencement of the outbreak Cæsar had seized the person of Pothinus, who was in attendance upon the young king, and detecting him in correspondence with Achillas he put him summarily to death. Soon after, Arsinoe, who hoped to make use of the Egyptian general to elevate herself into the royal seat, having reason to be dissatisfied with his conduct, induced her confidant Ganymedes to assassinate him. The adhesion of the army she secured by a munificent largess, appointed Ganymedes her minister and general, and, assuming the diadem of her ancestors, caused herself to be proclaimed sole queen of Egypt.

The Alexandrians pressed the blockade with pertinacity. They could not hope to dislodge the enemy by force, but they expected to reduce him by cutting off his means of subsistence. A contemporary writer describes the artificial contrivances by which the population of Alexandria obtained their water, an abundance of which is of such primary necessity in the climate of Egypt. It is well known that rain rarely falls there, nor were there living springs for the supply of fountains. The common people, indeed, were content with the water of the Nile in the turbid state in which it flows through their slimy plain; but the houses of the wealthier classes were supplied by means of subterranean channels, with which the whole city was mined, and through which the stream of the river was carried into reservoirs, where the noxious sediment was gradually deposited. Such of these channels as led to the parts of the city occupied by the Romans the Alexandrians obstructed, so as to prevent the river from flowing into them, while on the other hand they filled them with sea-water, raised by hydraulic machinery, in the construction of which they were eminently expert. This operation caused at first great consternation among the Romans, and still more among the native population shut up within their defences. But its effect was defeated by Cæsar’s sagacity. He caused his soldiers to dig pits on the sandy beach, and the brackish water which oozed up in them furnished a sufficient supply, not altogether unfit for drinking. At the same time the arrival of a legion from Asia, with a convoy of provisions and military stores, at a point a little to the west of Alexandria, revived the courage of the besieged, and restored the fortunes of their commander.

The Rhodian vessels which had betaken themselves to Cæsar’s side were now of great service to him in establishing a communication with these reinforcements. The islanders of Rhodes had succeeded to the nautical skill of Athens and Corinth, and were among the expert mariners of the time. Combined with the small flotilla which Cæsar had brought with him, and the ships which had lately arrived, these new allies presented a formidable force. The Egyptians, however, though the royal fleet had been destroyed, possessed considerable resources for the equipment of a naval armament. They collected from every quarter all the vessels they could muster, and hastily constructed others, till they found themselves in a condition to dispute once more the approach to the harbour. Nor were they less vigorous in the attack they made upon the enemy’s defences by land. The crisis of danger called forth all Cæsar’s energies; he never exposed his person more boldly, or encountered more imminent peril. At one moment he was so hard pressed as to be forced to leap from his vessel into the sea, and swim for his life, carrying his most valuable papers in his hand above the water, and leaving his cloak in the possession of the assailants, who retained it as a trophy, as the Arverni had preserved his sword.

The Egyptians indeed were ultimately worsted in every encounter, but they could still return to the attack with increased numbers; and Cæsar’s resources were so straitened that he was not disinclined to listen to terms of accommodation, the insincerity of which was transparent. The Alexandrian populace declared themselves weary of the rule of their young princess, and disgusted with the tyranny of Ganymedes. Their rightful sovereign once restored to them, they would unite heartily with the republic, and defy the fury of the upstart and the usurper. It cannot be supposed that the Roman general was deceived by these protestations; the bad faith of the Alexandrians was already proverbial in the West. But he expected perhaps that the rivalry of Ptolemy and Arsinoe would create dissension in their camps; he may have preferred coping with the young king in open war, to keeping a guard over him, and watching the intrigues with which he beguiled his captivity; possibly the surrender was made in concession to a pressure he could not resist, and was adopted as a means of gaining time. But when Ptolemy was restored to his subjects, and immediately led them to another attack upon the Roman position, the soldiers are said to have felt no little satisfaction at the reward of what they deemed their general’s weak compliance.

Cleopatra, whose blandishments were still the solace of the Roman general throughout his desperate adventure, rejoiced to see her brother thus treacherously array himself in rash hostility to her protector. The toils were beginning to close around the young king. Mithridates of Pergamus, an adherent in whose fidelity and conduct Cæsar placed great reliance, was advancing with the reinforcements he had been commissioned to collect in Syria and the adjacent provinces. He reduced Pelusium, the key of Egypt by land as Pharos was by sea, and crossed the Nile at the head of the Delta, routing a division of the king’s troops which attempted to check his progress. Ptolemy led forth his army to give battle to the new invader, and was followed by Cæsar. The Romans came up with the Egyptians, crossed the river in the face of their superior numbers, and attacked them in their entrenchments, which, from their knowledge both of the Macedonian and the Roman art of war, were probably not deficient in scientific construction. But the shock of the veterans was irresistible. The Egyptians fled, leaving great numbers slaughtered within the lines, and falling into their own ditches in confused and mangled heaps. The fugitives rushed to the channel of the Nile, where their vessels were stationed, and crowded into them without order or measure. One of them in which Ptolemy had taken refuge was thus overladen and sank.

This signal defeat, and still more the death of their unfortunate sovereign, reduced the defenders of the monarchy to despair. The populace of Alexandria issued from their gates to meet the conqueror in the attitude of suppliants and with the religious ceremonies by which they were wont to deprecate the wrath of their legitimate rulers. He entered the city, and directed his course through the principal streets, where the hostile barricades were levelled at his approach, till he reached the quarters in which his own garrison was stationed. He now reconstituted the government by appointing Cleopatra to the sovereignty, in conjunction with another younger brother, while he sent Arsinoe under custody to await his future triumph at Rome. The throne of his favourite he pretended to secure by leaving a Roman force in Alexandria. The pride of the republic was gratified by thus advancing another step towards the complete subjugation of a country it had long coveted. Cæsar was anxious that so much Roman blood as had been shed in his recent campaigns should not appear to have sunk into the earth, and borne no fruit of glory and advantage to the state. The whole of this episode in his eventful history, his arrogant dictation to the rulers of a foreign people, his seizing and keeping in captivity the person of the sovereign, his discharging him on purpose that he might compromise himself by engaging in direct hostilities, and his taking advantage of his death to settle the succession and intrude a foreign army upon the new monarch, form altogether a pregnant example of the craft and unscrupulousness of Roman ambition.[b]

The ancients have given us no satisfactory solution of Cæsar’s object in allowing himself to be entangled in this war. We cannot believe that he was really intoxicated by a passion for Cleopatra, and surrendered his judgment and policy to her fascinations. It is more probable that he had fixed his eyes upon the treasures of Alexandria, to furnish himself with the resources of which he stood greatly in need; for he still firmly abstained from the expedients of plunder and confiscation within the limits of the empire, and the great victory of Pharsalia though rich in laurels had proved barren of emolument. He had yet another campaign to undertake against the beaten party, and his troops, so often balked of their prize, might require an instalment of the rewards of their final triumph. But when once engaged in a contest with the Egyptians, it was no longer politic, indeed it was hardly possible to withdraw. Cæsar threw himself, as was his wont, heart and soul into the struggle, and risked everything in a warfare which he felt to be ignoble. But when at last fortune favoured his arms, he still allowed himself to remain three months longer to consolidate the advantage he had gained. He had acquired a footing in the wealthiest kingdom in the world; he had placed there a sovereign of his own choice, whose throne he secured by means of a guard of Romans, thus preparing the way for the reduction of the country at no distant period to the form of a Roman province. As long as the remnant of the Pompeians were still scattered and unprepared, he lost little by neglecting to prosecute the war against them. He might wish them to gather head again, that he might again strike them down in a single blow. Indeed he now found leisure for a campaign against Pharnaces, the son of Mithridates.

THE WAR WITH PHARNACES

[47 B.C.]

Though professing himself an ally of Pompey, the king of the Bosporus had failed to bring his contingent to the republican camp. After the battle of Pharsalia he hoped to profit by the ruin of his father’s foe, and the confusion of the republic. He mustered his forces and drove Deiotarus and Ariobarzanes from Armenia the lesser and Cappadocia. These princes sought the succour of Cæsar’s lieutenant Calvinus, and though they had just fought on the Pompeian side, he received instructions to restore them. Calvinus however was routed by Pharnaces, who recovered his father’s dominions in Asia Minor, and proceeded to expel from them the Roman settlers. Cæsar quitted Alexandria in April (47), landed at Tarsus, traversed Cilicia and Cappadocia, and reached the barbarian host at Zela in Pontus. A bloody battle ensued in which the Roman was completely victorious. The undisciplined hordes of the eastern sovereign once routed never rallied again. Pharnaces escaped from the field, but he was stripped of his possessions, and perished soon afterwards in an obscure adventure. The war was finished in five days, and the terms in which Cæsar is said to have announced it to the senate can hardly be called extravagant: “I came, I saw, I conquered.” When he compared this eastern “promenade” with the eight years’ struggle in which he had conquered Gaul by inches, he might exclaim on the good fortune of Pompey who had acquired at so little cost the reputation of a hero. After regulating with all despatch the affairs of the province, he hastened back to Italy, where his protracted absence had given occasion to serious disorders.

The measures which the dictator had enacted for the adjustment of debts were not received with equal satisfaction in every quarter. As soon as he was removed from the centre of affairs, the passions of the discontented found vent, and a prætor named Cælius fanned the flame for objects of personal ambition. Cælius was a clever, restless intriguer, and shrewd observer of other men, as appears in his amusing letters to Cicero, but altogether deficient in knowledge of himself, and much deceived in the estimate he formed of his own powers. He raised the criminal hopes of the worst and neediest citizens by proposing an abolition of debts; but he was unable to direct the passions he had excited, or to cope with the firmness of Servilius and the Cæsarian senate. He was declared incapable of holding any magistracy, expelled from the curia, and finally repulsed from the tribunate. He quitted Rome in disgust and fury, and had the temerity to plunge into an insurrection. Joining himself with Milo, who had left his place of exile and armed his gladiators in the south of Italy, he traversed Campania and Magna Græcia, soliciting the aid of outlaws and banditti. But the authorities of the capital had hardly time to take measures against the rebels, before they were reassured by the destruction of the one before Cosa, the other at Thurii.

CÆSAR RETURNS TO ROME

Cæsar’s protracted absence from the capital strongly marked the confidence he felt in the stability of his arrangements there. Notwithstanding these symptoms of transient and partial disaffection the great mass of the citizens was firmly attached to him, and to this result the ferocious menaces of the Pompeians had in no slight degree contributed. We may imagine with what anxious suspense the upper classes at Rome had awaited the event of the campaign in Illyricum; nor were they altogether relieved by the report of the victory of Pharsalia. For this welcome news was accompanied or closely followed by the assurance that the victor was plunging still farther into the distant East, while the forces of his enemy, supported by their innumerable navies, were gathering once more in his rear. Nevertheless, his adherents insisted on the statues of Pompey and Sulla being ignominiously removed from the Forum, and his secret enemies were controlled by spies, and compelled to join in the public demonstrations of satisfaction. Much of the anxiety which still prevailed was removed by the account of the death of Pompey, confirmed by the transmission of his signet to Rome. None could now distrust the genius and the fortune of the irresistible conqueror. There was no longer any hesitation in paying court to him. His flatterers multiplied in the senate and the Forum, and only vied with one another in suggesting new honours for his gratification. Decrees were issued investing him with unbounded authority over the lives and fortunes of the vanquished. He was armed with full powers for suppressing the republican party which was again making head in Africa. In October, 48, Cæsar was created dictator for a second time; and the powers of the tribunate were decreed to him for the term of his life. He appointed Antony his master of the horse, and commandant of the city. Brave, but violent and dissolute, Antony possessed neither the vigour nor the prudence which circumstances demanded.

The rumours which soon began to circulate at Rome of the perils which Cæsar was incurring at Alexandria, rendered his conduct uncertain; he hesitated to put down, with a firm hand, the disturbers of the republic, whom the death of his master might make more powerful than himself. The son-in-law of Cicero, Cornelius Dolabella, overwhelmed with debt, had followed the example of Clodius in getting himself adopted by a plebeian, and had thus acquired the tribunate. In this position he had recommended himself, like Cælius, to the worst classes of the citizens, by urging an abolition of debts. One of his colleagues resisted, and both betook themselves to violence. For some time Antony looked on as if uncertain which party to espouse; but a domestic affront from Dolabella, who had intrigued with his wife, roused his passion; he attacked the turbulent mob with arms, and filled the streets with the indiscriminate slaughter of eight hundred citizens. He did not venture, however, to punish the author of the disturbance, but contented himself with menaces and precautions till the fortunate arrival of the dictator himself in September, 47.

Roman Battering-ram with Testudo

Contrary to the apprehensions of many of the citizens Cæsar’s return was marked by no proscription. He confined himself to the confiscation of the estates of the men who still remained in arms against him; and that of Pompey himself, whose sons were in the hostile camp, he set up to public auction. A portion of them was bought by Antony, who ventured to evade the due payment of the price. He conceived that his services might command the trifling indulgence of release from a paltry debt. He found, however, that his patron was in earnest, and prudently submitted to the affront. The dictator remained only three months in Rome. Every moment was fully occupied in the vast work of reconstructing the government; but we know not what were the special measures enacted at this period, and Cæsar’s legislation may fitly be reserved to be contemplated hereafter at a single view. Two consuls were appointed for the remaining three months of the year, and for the next ensuing Cæsar nominated himself for the third time, together with Lepidus. He caused himself also to be again created dictator. His partisans he loaded with places and honours, and sated the populace with largesses. The soldiers demanded the fulfilment of his repeated promises. Those of the tenth legion broke out into open revolt, and ran from Campania to Rome to extort their claims. Cæsar convoked them in the Field of Mars, approached them unattended, mounted his tribunal, and demanded the statement of their grievance. At the sight of their redoubted general their voices faltered, their murmurs died away; they could only ask for their discharge. “I discharge you, citizens,” replied the imperator; and they cowered under this disparaging appellation, abashed and humiliated. To the fierce and haughty soldier the peaceful name of citizen seemed a degradation. They entreated to be restored to their ensigns, and submitted to severe punishment in expiation of their fault. This simple incident is a key to the history of the times. This application of the title of citizen, and the effect it produced, show plainly that the basis of Cæsar’s force was purely military, and that Cæsar himself knew it. This was the point at which every party leader in turn had tried for years to arrive, and Cæsar had succeeded.

THE AFRICAN WAR

As soon as this sedition was repressed Cæsar departed to crush the remnant of his enemies assembled in Africa. The defeated host had been scattered in various directions, but the largest division of the fugitives had made its way to Dyrrhachium, and there deliberated on its further movements. Cato, to whom the command was offered, waived it in favour of Cicero, as his superior in rank; but the orator declined to associate himself further in the honours and perils of a fruitless struggle, and departed mournfully for Italy. His life was with difficulty preserved from the fury of Cneius, the elder son of the great Pompey, a man of ungovernable passions and slender capacity. Shortly afterwards Scipio assumed the command of the main body, and carried it to Utica in the province of Africa. Cato at the head of another division skirted the coasts of Greece and Asia, and picked up some scattered adherents of the cause. He followed in the track of Pompey, but when the news of his chief’s assassination reached him, he landed on the shore of Libya, and demanded admission within the walls of Cyrene. The natives shut their gates; but Cato, always loath to exercise any unprofitable severity, generously abstained from chastising them. Anxious now to effect a junction with the remainder of his friends, he coasted westward as far as the lesser Syrtis, and then plunged with his little army into the sandy desert. The seven days’ march through this inhospitable region, torrid with heat and infested with serpents, was justly considered one of the noblest exploits of the Roman legionaries. The poet of the Pharsalia exalts it above the three triumphs of Pompey and the victories of Marius over the tyrant of Numidia. He turns with pardonable enthusiasm from the deified monsters, the Caligulas and Neros of his own day, to hail its achiever as the true Father of his Country, the only worthy object of a free man’s idolatry.

The arrival of Cato at the headquarters of the republicans in Utica was quickly followed by that of Cneius Pompey, and in the course of the year 47 the remains of the great host of Pharsalia were assembled with many reinforcements under the banners of Scipio. These forces amounted to not less than ten complete legions, and Juba, who could bring one hundred and twenty elephants into the field, besides innumerable squadrons of light cavalry, had promised his assistance. The officers began to brag of their future triumphs almost as loudly as before their recent disasters. Their defiance was re-echoed to the opposite shores of Italy, and caused fresh dismay to the time-servers, who had abandoned the Pompeian cause on the event of its first discomfiture. But this force, numerous as it was, was not in a condition, it would seem, to choose a distant field of operations. The want of money may have compelled its chief still to act on the defensive, and await through a whole year the expected attack of the enemy. Nor were these chiefs themselves unaffected by personal jealousies. Scipio and Varus contended for the command, the one as the foremost in rank and dignity, the other as the legitimate proconsul of the province; while Juba, conscious of his own importance to the cause, affected to lord it over both. Cato alone continued still to act with his usual simplicity of purpose and patriotic devotion. But his noble demeanour rebuked the selfishness of his associates, and they contrived to remove him from their counsels by charging him with the defence of Utica, while they shifted their own quarters to the neighbourhood of Hadrumetum. The brave philosopher rejoiced that he was not compelled to draw his sword in civil strife, while he busied himself not the less earnestly in the collection of stores and preparation of defence. Of all the professed asserters of Roman liberty he alone really lamented the necessity of arming in her cause; from the first outbreak of the war he had refused to trim his venerable locks or shave his grizzled beard, and from the fatal day of Pharsalia he had persisted in sitting at his frugal meals, and denied himself the indulgence of a couch.

[47-46 B.C.]

A whole year had now passed, while the republicans contemplated with folded arms the perils Cæsar had surmounted in Alexandria, the victory he had gained over Pharnaces, and the brilliant reception he had met with in Rome. Cæsar assembled six legions and two thousand horse at Lilybæum in Sicily, and in the middle of October 47, he appeared off the African coast with the first division of his forces, and summoned the republicans in their camp at Hadrumetum to surrender to “Cæsar the imperator.” “There is no imperator here but Scipio,” they replied, and inflicted death upon his envoy as a deserter. The dictator sailed on to Leptis, and was there invited to take shelter, while he awaited the arrival of the rest of his armament.

While these reinforcements were coming slowly in he was attacked by Scipio, and subjected to annoyance and peril from the movements of the enemy’s cavalry. Labienus, who frequently charged him at the head of the Roman horse, distinguished himself by the bitter taunts with which he addressed the veterans whom he had so often led to victory. But Cæsar maintained himself in a fortified position till he could move forward with a force of five legions. At the same time the alliance he had formed with the Mauretanian kings, Bogudes and Bocchus, the jealous rivals of the Numidians, enabled him to draw off Juba to the defence of his own capital Cirta. He pushed on, offering battle, which Scipio, though with double his numbers, steadily refused, until Juba returned with his vaunted elephants and cavalry. The necessities of the Roman chiefs compelled them to submit to revolting indignities at the hands of this barbarian ally. He forbade Scipio the use of the imperator’s purple cloak, which he declared to belong only to kings. When he issued his royal mandates to the Roman officers, they were observed to be even more punctually obeyed than the orders of the general himself.

At last on the 4th of April the armies met on the field of Thapsus. On this occasion many of Cæsar’s men were fresh recruits, and he was not without some misgivings about their steadiness. But they were not less impatient for the onset than the veterans, whom their general recommended to their imitation, and loudly demanded the signal to engage. While he still hesitated, checking with hand and voice the impatient swaying of the lines, suddenly the blast of a single trumpet burst forth on the right wing. The impetuous ferocity of the tenth legion could no longer brook restraint; they had raised the signal unbidden; and now the whole army rushed forward in one unbroken body, overpowering their officers’ efforts to detain them. Cæsar, when he beheld rank after rank pouring by him, without the possibility of recall, gave the word “Good luck” to his attendants, and spurred his horse to the head of his battalions. The combat was speedily decided. The elephants, thrown into confusion by the first discharge of stones and arrows, turned upon the ranks they were placed to cover, and broke in pieces their array. The native cavalry, dismayed at losing their accustomed support, were the first to abandon the field. Scipio’s legions made little resistance; they sought shelter behind their entrenchments. But their officers had fled, and the men, left without a commander, rushed in quest of their discomfited allies. They found the Numidian camp in the hands of the enemy; they begged for quarter, but little mercy was shown them, and Cæsar himself beheld with horror a frightful massacre which he was powerless to control. Scipio escaped to the coast, and embarked with others for Spain, but was intercepted and slain.[119] Juba and Petreius fled together, and sought refuge within the walls of Zama. But the Numidians rejoiced in the defeat of their tyrants and refused them solace or shelter. The fugitives, repulsed in every quarter, and disdaining to solicit the victor’s clemency, placed themselves at a banquet together, drank their fill of wine, and challenged each other to mortal combat. Petreius, the elder of the two, was despatched by his opponent, who then threw himself upon his own sword.[120]

The rout of Thapsus was known at Utica on the same evening. On the morrow Cato convened the Roman officers and residents, and laid before them the state of their affairs. Calmly and cheerfully he enumerated his means of defence, and desired them to decide for themselves whether they would resist the conqueror, or seek safety in flight or capitulation. The knights and senators, despairing of pardon, would have held out to the uttermost; but the traders and men of peace, who had long settled in Utica, and were conscious that they had done nothing hitherto to provoke the wrath of the assailant, insisted on a timely surrender. When it was known that Cæsar was approaching, Cato caused all the gates to be closed except that which led to the sea, and urged all that would to betake themselves to the ships. He dismissed his personal friends, of whom a few only, and among them his own son, insisted on remaining with him; for he had plainly intimated that for his own part he would not quit his post. With these cherished associates he sat down to supper, and discoursed with more than his usual fervour on the highest themes of philosophy, especially on the famous paradox of the stoics, that the good man alone is free, and all the bad are slaves. His companions could not fail to guess the secret purpose over which he was brooding. They betrayed their anxiety only by silent gestures; but Cato, observing the depression of their spirits, strove to reanimate them, and divert their thoughts by turning the conversation to topics of present interest.

[46 B.C.]

The embarkation was at this moment proceeding, and Cato repeatedly inquired who had already put out to sea, and what were the prospects of the voyage. Retiring to his chamber he took up the Dialogue on the Soul, in which Plato recorded his dying master’s last aspirations after immortality. After reading for some time he looked up and observed that his sword had been removed. In the irritation of the moment he gave way to a burst of violence, such as often marked the behaviour of the Roman master to his slave; calling his attendant to his presence he struck him on the mouth, bruising his own hand with the blow. He then sent for his son and friends, and rebuked them sharply for their unworthy precaution; “as if,” he said, “I needed a sword to kill myself, and might not, if I chose, put an end to my existence by dashing my head against the wall, or merely by holding my breath.” Reassured perhaps for the moment by the calmness of his demeanour, they restored him his weapon, and at his earnest desire once more left him alone. At midnight, still anxious about those who were departing, he sent once again to inquire if the embarkation were completed. The messenger returned with the assurance that the last vessel was now on the point of leaving the quay. Thereupon Cato threw himself on his bed, as if about to take his rest for the night; but when all was quiet he seized his sword and thrust it into his stomach. The wound was not immediately mortal, and the victim rolled groaning on the floor. The noise at once summoned his anxious attendants. A surgeon was at hand, and the sufferer was unconscious while the protruding intestines were replaced, and the gash sewn up. But on coming to himself he repulsed his disconsolate friends, and tearing open the fatal wound, expired with the same dogged resolution which had distinguished every action of his life.

Death of Cato

(From a drawing by Mirys)

Cato had no cause to despair of retaining life under the new tyranny. At an earlier period he had meditated, in such a contingency, seeking refuge in retirement and philosophy. But his views of the highest good had deepened and saddened with the fall of the men and things he most admired. He now calmly persuaded himself that with the loss of free action the end of his being had failed of its accomplishment. He regarded his career as prematurely closed, and deemed it his duty to extinguish an abortive existence.[121] Cæsar, when he heard of his self-destruction, lamented that he had been robbed of the pleasure of pardoning him, and to his comrades in arms he exhibited, according to the most credible accounts, the same clemency by which he had so long distinguished himself. But the same man who could now speak and act thus generously, did not scruple, at a later period, to reply to Cicero’s panegyric with a book which he called the Anti-Cato, in which he ridiculed the sage’s vain pretensions, and scoffed at him for raking in his brother’s ashes for the golden ornaments of his pyre, for transferring to Hortensius the wife who had borne him as many children as he desired, and taking the widow to his arms again enriched with a magnificent dowry. Could the proud philosopher have anticipated a time when the wantonness of power might sport unchecked with the good fame of its victims, he would have shrunk from such moral degradation with greater horror than from the servitude of the body.[c]

SALLUST’S COMPARISON OF CÆSAR AND CATO

“After hearing and reading of the many glorious achievements which the Roman people had performed at home and in the field, by sea as well as by land, I happened to be led to consider what had been the great foundation of such illustrious deeds. I knew that the Romans had frequently, with small bodies of men, encountered vast armies of the enemy; I was aware that they had carried on wars with limited forces against powerful sovereigns; that they had often sustained, too, the violence of adverse fortune; yet that, while the Greeks excelled them in eloquence, the Gauls surpassed them in military glory. After much reflection, I felt convinced that the eminent virtue of a few citizens had been the cause of all these successes; and hence it had happened that poverty had triumphed over riches, and a few over a multitude. And even in later times, when the state had become corrupted by luxury and indolence, the republic still supported itself, by its own strength, under the misconduct of its generals and magistrates; when, as if the parent stock were exhausted, there was certainly not produced at Rome, for many years, a single citizen of eminent ability. Within my recollection, however, there arose two men of remarkable powers, though of very different character, Marcus Cato and Caius Cæsar, whom, since the subject has brought them before me, it is not my intention to pass in silence, but to describe, to the best of my ability, the disposition and manners of each.

“Their birth, age, and eloquence, were nearly on an equality; their greatness of mind similar, as was also their reputation, though attained by different means. Cæsar grew eminent by generosity and munificence; Cato by the integrity of his life. Cæsar was esteemed for his humanity and benevolence; austereness had given dignity to Cato. Cæsar acquired renown by giving, relieving, and pardoning; Cato by bestowing nothing. In Cæsar there was a refuge for the unfortunate; in Cato, destruction for the bad. In Cæsar, his easiness of temper was admired; in Cato, his firmness. Cæsar, in fine, had applied himself to a life of energy and activity; intent upon the interests of his friends, he was neglectful of his own; he refused nothing to others that was worthy of acceptance, while for himself he desired great power, the command of an army, and a new war in which his talents might be displayed. But Cato’s ambition was that of temperance, discretion, and, above all, of austerity; he did not contend in splendour with the rich, or in faction with the seditious, but with the brave in fortitude, with the modest in simplicity, with the temperate in abstinency; he was more desirous to be, than to appear, virtuous; and thus, the less he courted popularity, the more it pursued him.”[e][122]