Pompey did not immediately lead on his right wing, but often directed his eyes to the left, and lost time in waiting to see what execution his cavalry would do there. Meanwhile they had extended their squadrons to surround Caesar, and prepared to drive the few horse he had placed in front, back upon the foot. At that instant Caesar gave the signal; upon which his cavalry retreated a little; and the six cohorts, which consisted of 3000 men, and had been placed behind the tenth legion, advanced to surround Pompey's cavalry; and coming close up to them, raised the points of their javelins, as they had been taught, and aimed them at the face. Their adversaries, who were not experienced in any kind of fighting, and had not the least previous idea of this, could not parry or endure the blows upon their faces, but turned their backs, or covered their eyes with their hands, and soon fled with great dishonor. Caesar's men took no care to pursue them, but turned their force upon the enemy's infantry, particularly upon that wing, which, now stripped of its horse, lay open to the attack on all sides. The six cohorts, therefore, took them in flank, while the tenth legion charged them in front; and they, who had hoped to surround the enemy, and now, instead of that, saw themselves surrounded, made but a short resistance, and then took to a precipitate flight.
By the great dust that was raised, Pompey conjectured the fate of his cavalry; and it is hard to say what passed in his mind at that moment. He appeared like a man moonstruck and distracted; and without considering that he was Pompey the Great, or speaking to any one, he quitted the ranks, and retired step by step toward his camp—a scene which cannot be better painted than in these verses of Homer: (In the eleventh book of the Iliad, where he is speaking of the flight of Ajax before Hector.)
But partial Jove, espousing Hector's part,
Shot heaven-bred horror through the Grecian's heart;
Confused, unnerv'd in Hector's presence grown,
Amazed he stood with terrors not his own.
O'er his broad back his moony shield he threw,
And, glaring round, by tardy steps withdrew.
In this condition he entered his tent, where he sat down, and uttered not a word, till at last, upon finding that some of the enemy entered the camp with the fugitives, he said, "What! Into my camp, too!" After this short exclamation, he rose up, and dressing himself in a manner suitable to his fortune, privately withdrew. All the other legions fled; and a great slaughter was made in the camp, of the servants and others who had the care of the tents. But Asinius Pollio, who then fought on Caesar's side, assures us, that of the regular troops there were not above six thousand men killed. (Caesar says, that in all there were fifteen thousand killed, and twenty-four thousand taken prisoners.)
Upon the taking of the camp, there was a spectacle which showed, in strong colors, the vanity and folly of Pompey's troops. All the tents were crowned with myrtle; the beds were strewn with flowers; the tables covered with cups, and bowls of wine set out. In short, everything had the appearance of preparations for feasts and sacrifices, rather than for men going out to battle. To such a degree had their vain hopes corrupted them, and with such a senseless confidence they took to the field!
When Pompey had got at a little distance from the camp, he quitted his horse. He had very few people about him; and, as he saw he was not pursued, he went softly on, wrapped up in such thoughts as we may suppose a man to have, who had been used for thirty-four years to conquer and carry all before him, and now in his old age first came to know what it was to be defeated and to fly. We may easily conjecture what his thoughts must be, when in one short hour he had lost the glory and the power which had been growing up amidst so many wars and conflicts; and he who was lately guarded with such armies of horse and foot, and such great and powerful fleets, was reduced to so mean and contemptible an equipage, that his enemies, who were in search of him, could not know him.
He passed by Larissa, and came to Tempe, where, burning with thirst, he threw himself upon his face, and drank out of the river; after which, he passed through the valley, and went down to the sea-coast. There he spent the remainder of the night in a poor fisherman's cabin. Next morning, about break of day, he went on board a small river-boat, taking with him such of his company as were freemen. The slaves he dismissed, bidding them go to Caesar, and fear nothing.
As he was coasting along, he saw a whip of burden just ready to sail; the master of which was Peticius, a Roman citizen, who, though not acquainted with Pompey, knew him by sight. Therefore, without waiting for any further application, he took him up, and such of his companions as he thought proper, and then hoisted sail. The persons Pompey took with him, were the two Lentuli and Favonius; and a little after, they saw king Deiotarus beckoning to them with great earnestness from the shore, and took him up likewise. The master of the ship provided them with the best supper he could, and when it was almost ready, Pompey, for want of a servant, was going to wash himself, but Favonius, seeing it, stepped up, and both washed and anointed him. All the time he was on board, he continued to wait upon him in all the offices of a servant, even to the washing of his feet and providing his supper; insomuch, that one who saw the unaffected simplicity and sincere attachment with which Favonius performed these offices, cried out—
The generous mind adds dignity
To every act, and nothing misbecomes it.
Pompey, in the course of his voyage, sailed by Amphipolis, and from thence steered for Mitylene, to take up Cornelia and his son. As soon as he reached the island, he sent a messenger to the town with news far different from what Cornelia expected. For, by the flattering accounts which many officious persons had given her, she understood that the dispute was decided at Dyrrhachium, and that nothing but the pursuit of Caesar remained to be attended to. The messenger, finding her possessed with such hopes, had not power to make the usual salutations; but expressing the greatness of Pompey's misfortunes by his tears rather than words, only told her she must make haste if she had a mind to see Pompey with one ship only, and that not his own.