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]