f 1 Hi hH ^B I CMS C J5 S A E A 8KETGH JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE, M.A. FORMERLY FELLOW OF EXETER COLLEGE, OXFORD "Pardon, gentles all The flat unraised spirit that hath dared On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth So great an object." Shakespeare, Henry V. NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1895 To GEORGE BUTLER, IN TOKEN OF A FRIENDSHIP WHICH COMMENCED THIRTY-SEVEN YEARS AGO, "WHEN WE WERE ELECTED TOGETHER FELLOWS OF OUR COLLEGE, WHICH HAS GROWN WITH OUR INCREASING AGE, AND WILL CONTINUE, I HOPE, UNBROKEN AS LONG AS WE BOTH SHALL LIVE. PREFACE. I HAVE called this work a " sketch " because the materials do not exist for a portrait which shall be at once authentic and complete. The original au- thorities which are now extant for the life of Caesar are his own writings, the speeches and letters of Cicero, the eighth book of the " Commentaries " on the wars in Gaul and the history of the Alexandrian war, by Aulus Hirtius, the accounts of the African war and of the war in Spain, composed by persons who were unquestionably present in those two cam- paigns. To these must be added the " Leges Julige " which are preserved in the Corpus Juris Civilis. Sallust contributes a speech, and Catullus a poem. A few hints can be gathered from the Epitome of Livy and the fragments of Varro ; and here the con- temporary sources which can be entirely depended upon are brought to an end. The secondary group of authorities from which the popular histories of the time have been chiefly taken are Appian, Plutarch, Suetonius, and Dion Cassius. Of these the first three were divided from the period which they describe by nearly a century and a half, Dion Cassius by more than two centuries. viii Preface. They had means of knowledge which no longer exist — the Avritings, for instance, of Asinius PoUio, who was one of Caesar's officers. But Asinius PoUio's accounts of Caesar's actions, as reported by Appian, '^•annot always be reconciled with the Commentaries ; 'jind all these four writers relate incidents as facta which are sometimes demonstrably false. Suetonius is apparently the most trustworthy. His narrative, like those of his contemporaries, was colored by tradition. His biographies of the* earlier Ccesara betray the same spirit of animosity against them which taints the credibility of Tacitus, and prevailed for so many years in aristocratic Roman society. But Suetonius shows nevertheless an effort at ve- racity, an antiquarian curiosity and diligence, and a serious anxiety to tell his story impartially. Sueto- nius, in the absence of evidence direct or presump- tive to the contrary, I have felt myself able to fol- low. The other three writers I have trusted only when I have found them partially confirmed by evi- dence which is better to be relied upon. The picture which I have drawn will thus be found deficient in many details which have passed into general acceptance, and I have been unable to claim for it a higher title than that of an outline drawing. CONTENTS. CHAPTER L PA03 Free Constitutions and imperial tendencies. — Instructive- ness of Eoman history. — Character of historical epochs. — The age of Caesar. — Spiritual state of Rom t. — Con- trasts between ancient and modern civilization .... 1 CHAPTER n. The Roman Constitution. — Moral character of the Romans. — Roman religion. — Morality and intellect. — Expansion of Roman power. — The Senate. — Roman slavery. — Effects of intercourse with Greece. — Patrician degener- acy. — The Roman noble. — Influence of wealth. — Be- ginnings of discontent 9 CHAPTER III. Tiberius Gracchus. — Decay of the Italian yeomanry. — Agrarian law. — Success and murder of Gracchus — Land commission. — Caius Gracchus. — Transfer of judicial functions from the Senate to the Equites. — Sempronian laws. — Free grants of corn. — Plans for extension of the franchise. — New colonies. — Reaction. — Murder of Caius Gracchus 28 CHAPTER IV. Victory of the Optimates. — The Moors. — Histoiy of Ju- gurtha. — The Senate corrupted. — Jugurthine war. — Defeat of the Romans. — Jugurtha comes to Rome. — Popular agitation. — The war renewed. — Roman defeats in Africa and Gaul. — Caecilius Metellus and Caius Ma- rius. — Marriage of M-arius. — The Cajsars. — Marius con- sul. — First notice of Sylla — Capture and death of Ju- jjurtha 35 z Contents. CHAPTER V. Birth of Cicero. — The Cimbri and Teutons. — German im- migration into Gaul. — Great defeat of the Romans on the Rhone. — Wanderings of the Cimbri. — Attempted invasion of Italy. — Battle of Aix. — Destruction of the Teutons. — Defeat of the Cimbri on the Po. — Reform in the Roman army. — Popular disturbances in Rome. — Murder of Memmius. — Murder of Saturninus and Glaucia 48 CHAPTER VI. Birth and childhood of Julius Caesar. — Italian franchise. — Discontent of the Italians. — Action of the land laws. — The social war. — Partial concessions. — Sylla and Ma- rius. — Mithridates of Pontus. -— - First mission of Sylla into Asia 55 CHAPTER VII. vVar with Mithridates. — Massacre of Italians in Asia. — Invasion of Greece. — Impotence and corruption of the Senate. — End of the social war. — Sylla appointed to the Asiatic command. — The Assembly transfer the command to Marius. — Sylla marches on Rome. — Flight of Ma- rius. — Change of the Constitution. — Sylla sails for the East. — Four years' absence. — Defeat of Mithridates. — Contemporary incidents at Rome. — Counter revolution. — Consulship of Cinna. — Return of Marius. — Capitula- tion of Rome. — Massacre of patricians and equites. — Triumph of Democracy 65 CHAPTER VIII. The young Caesar. — Connection with Marius. — Intimacy with the Ciceros. — Marriage of Caesar with the daughter of Cinna. — Sertorius. — Death of Cinna. — Consulships of Norbanus and Scipio. — Sylla's return. — First appear- ance of Pompey. — Civil war. — Victory of Sylla. — The dictatorship and the proscription. — Destruction of the popular party and murder of the popular leaders. — Gen- eral character of aristocratic revolutions. — The Constitu- tion remodelled. — Concentration of power in the Senate. — Sylla's general poli{!y. — The army. — Flight of Serto- Contents, xi PlSl rius to Spain. — Pompey and Sylla. — Caesar refuses to divorce his wife at Sylla's order. — Danger of Caesar. — His pardon. — Growing consequence of Cicero. — De- fence of Roscius. — Sylla's abdication and death ... 76 CHAPTER IX. Sertorius in Spain. — Warning of Cicero to the patricians. — Leading aristocrats. — Caesai* with the army in the East. — Nioomedes of Bithynia. — The Bithynian scan- dal. — Conspiracy of Lepidus. — Caesar returns to Rome. — Defeat of Lepidus. — Prosecution of Dolabella. — Cae- sar taken by pirates. — Senatorial corruption. — Universal disorder. — Civil war in Spain. — Growth of Mediterra- nean piracy. — Connivance of the Senate. — Provincial administration. — Verres in Sicily. — Prosecuted by Cic- ero. — Second war with Mithridates. — First success of Lucullus. — Failure of Lucullus, and the cause of it. — Avarice of Roman commanders. — The gladiators. — The Servile War. — Results of the change in the Constitution introduced by Sylla 9S CHAPTER X. Caesar military tribune. — Becomes known as a speaker. — Is made quaestor. — Speech at his aunt's funeral. — Con- sulship of Pompey and Crassus. — Caesar marries Pom- pey 's cousin. — Mission to Spain. — Restoration of the powers of the tribunes. — The Equites and the Senate. — The pirates. — Food supplies cut off from Rome. — The Gabinian law. — Resistance of the patricians. — Suppres- sion of the pirates by Pompey. — The Manilian law. — Speech of Cicero. — Recall of Lucullus. — Pompey sent to command in Asia. — Defeat and death of Mithridates. -- Conquest of Asia by Pompey 120 CHAPTER XL History of Catiline. — A candidate for the consulship. — Catiline and Cicero. — Cicero chosen consul. — Attaches himself to the senatorial party. — Caesar elected aedile. — Conducts an inquiry into the Syllan proscriptions. — Prosecution of Rabirius. — Caesar becomes Pontifex Maxi- mufi. — And Praetor. — Cicero's conduct as consul. — xii Contents. PAQB Proposed Agrarian law. — Resisted by Cicero. — Catiline again stands for the consulship. — Violent language in the Senate. — Threatened revolution. — Catiline again defeated. — The conspiracy. — Warnings sent to Cic- ero. — Meeting at Catiline's house. — Speech of Cicero in the Senate. — Catiline joins an army of insurrection in Etruria. — His fellow conspirators. — Correspondence with the Allobroges. — Letters read in the Senate. — The conspirators seized. — Debate upon their fate. — Speech of Caesar. — Caesar on the future state. — Speech of Cato. — And of Cicero. — The conspirators executed untried. — Death of Catiline 133 CHAPTER Xn. Preparations for the return of Pompey. — Scene in the Fo- rum. — Cato and Metellus. — Caesar suspended from the praetorship. — Caesar supports Pompey. — Scandals against Caesar's private life. — General character of them. — Festival of the Bona Dea. — Publius Clodius enters Caesar's house dressed as a woman. — Prosecution and trial of Clodius. — His acquittal and the reason of it. — Successes of Csesar as pro-praetor in Spain. — Conquest of Lusitania. — Return of Pompey to Italy. — First speech in the Senate. — Precarious position of Cicero. — Cato and the Eqnites. — Caesar elected consul. — Revival of the democratic party. — Anticipated Agrarian law. — Un- easiness of Cicero 162 CHAPTER Xin. The consulship of Caesar. — Character of his intended legis- lation. — The Land Act first proposed in the Senate. — Violent opposition. — Caesar appeals to the Assembly. — Interference of the second consul Bibulus. — The Land Act submitted to the people. — Pompey and Crassus sup- port it. — Bibulus interposes, but without success. — The Act carried. — And other laws. — The Senate no longer being consulted. — General purpose of the Leges Juliae. — Caesar appointed to command in Gaul for five years. — His object in accepting that province. — Condition of Gaul and the dangers to be apprehended from it. — Alli- ance of Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus. — The Dynasts.— Contents. xiii PAai Indignation of the aristocracy. — Threats to repeal Cae- sar's laws. — Necessity of controlling Cicero and Cato. — Clodius is made tribune. — Prosecution of Cicero for ille- gal acts when consul. — Cicero's friends forsake him. — He flies and is banished 189 CHAPTER XIV. Caesar's military narrative. — Divisions of Gaul. — Distribu- tion of population. — The Celts. — Degree of civilization. — Tribal system. — The Druids. — The ^dui and the Sequani. — Roman and German parties. — Intended mi- gration of the Helve tii. — Composition of Caesar's army. — He goes to Gaul. — Checks the Helvetii. — Returns to Italy for larger forces. — The Helvetii on the Saone. — Defeated and sent back to Switzerland. — Invasion of Gaul by Ariovistus. — Caesar invites him to a conference. — He refuses. — Alarm in the Roman army. — Caesar marches against Ariovistus. — Interview between them. — Treachery of the Roman Senate. — Great battle at Colmar. — Defeat and annihilation of the Germans. — End of the first campaign. — Confederacy among the Belgae. — Battle on the Aisne. — War with the Nervii. — Battle of Maubeuge. — Capture of Namur. — The Belgae conquered. — Submission of Brittany. — End of the sec- ond campaign 214 CHAPTER XV. Cicero and Clodius. — Position and character of Clodius. — Cato sent to Cyprus. — Attempted recall of Cicero de- feated by Clodius. — Fight in the Forum. — Pardon and return of Cicero. — Moderate speech to the people. — Violence in the Senate. — Abuse of Piso and Gabinius. — Coldness of the Senate towards Cicero — Restoration of Cicero's house. — Interfered with by Clodius. — Factions of Clodius and Milo. — Ptolemy Auletes expelled by his subjects. — Appeals to Rome for help. — Alexandrian envoys assassinated. — Clodius elected aedile. — Fight in the Forum. — Parties in Rome. — Situation of Cicero. — Rally of the aristocracy. — Attempt to repeal the Leges Juliaj. — Conference at Lucca. — Caesar, Pompcy, and XIT Contents, ramm Crassus. — Cicero deserts the Senate. — Explains his motives. — Confirmation of the Ordinances of Lucca. — Pompey and Crassus consuls. — CaBsar's command pro- longed for five additional years. — Rejoicings in Rome. — Spectacle in the amphitheatre 247 CHAPTER XVI. Revolt of the Yeneti. — Fleet prepared in the Loire. — Sea- fight at Quiberon. — Reduction of Normandy and of Aquitaine. — Complete conquest of Gaul. — Fresh ar- rival of Germans over the lower Rhine. — Caesar orders them to retire, and promises them lands elsewhere. — They refuse to go. — And are destroyed. — Bridge over the Rhine. — Caesar invades Germany. — Returns after a short inroad. — First expedition into Britain. — Caesar lands at Deal, or Walmer. — Storm and injury to the fleet. — Approach of the equinox. — Further prosecution of the enterprise postponed till the following year. — Cae- sar goes to Italy for the winter. — Large naval prepara- tions. — Return of spring. — Alarm on the Moselle. — Fleet collects at Boulogne. — Caesar sails for Britain a second time. — Lands at Deal. — Second and more de- structive storm. — Ships repaired and placed out of danger. — Caesar marches through Kent. — Crosses the Thames and reaches St. Albans. — Goes no further and returns to Gaul. — Object of the invasion of Britain. — Description of the country and people 280 CHAPTER XVn. Distribution of the legions after the return from Britain. — Conspiracy among the Gallic chiefs. — Rising of the Eburones. — Destruction of Sabinus and a division of the Roman army. — Danger of Quintus Cicero. — Relieved by Caesar in person. — General disturbance. — Labienus attacked at Lavacherie. — Defeats and kills Induciomarus. — Second conquest of the Belgae. — Caesar again crosses the Rhine. — Quintus Cicero in danger a second time. — Courage of a Roman officer. — Punishment of the re- Tolted chiefs. — Execution of Acco 301 Contents. ^^ CHAPTER XYIIL i.«oo ni Cicero with Caesar. — Intimacy with ''''?Z:^^rcL^-Mi^<^^^ on Piso and Gabiniu. - So compelled to defend Gabinius - And Vatinxus ^Sssatisfaction with his PO-tion. - Corruption at^ the consular elections. - Public scanda • _ C-- -d Pom T,ev— Deaths of Aurelia and Julia. - Catastrophe m fhe East - Overthrow and death of Crassus. - I'»tng"e o detach Pompey from C«sar.-Milo a candidate for > tL consulship. -Murder of Clodius. - Burning of the SnrLuse.- Trial and exile of Milo. - Fresh engage- ments with C«sar.-Promise of the consulship at the end ^^^ of his term in Gaul CHAPTER XIX. Last revolt of Gaul. - Massacre of Komans at Gien.- Vercrgetorix.-Effect on the Celts of the d-turb-ces rSom'e.-C.sar crosses the Cevennes. - D^eat^ the Arverni.- Joins his army on the Seine— Takes t,ien, N^ers and Bourges. - Fails at Gergovia - Rapid march fo Sens - Labienus at Paris. - Battle of the Vmgeanne^ -1 Siege of Alesia— Cesar's double lines. - Arrival of the rSevin.. army of Gauls. -First battle on the plain, i Second battle. - Great defeat of the Gauls. - Surren- der of Alesia. - Campaign against the Camute j^ the Bellovaci. - Rising on the Dordogne. - Capture of Uxel fodunuI-C^sa/at Arras-Completion of the conquest 341 CHAPTER XX. Rihulusin Syria. -Approaching term of Caesar's govern- ^tent. -Threats of impeachment- C^sar to be consul or not to be consul? -Cesar's political ambition. -Ha- tred felt towards him by the aristocracy. " ^^ ° l^S'^^. taken from him on pretence of service against the Pai- £s.-C.sar to be recalled before the expjra ion o his sovernment. — Senatorial intrigues. — Cm lo deseits Se I .ate. - Labienus deserts C.sar.- Cicero in C.hc. -Returns to Rome. -Pompey determined on v^. Cicero's uncertainties— Resolution of the Senate and xvi Contents. consuls. — Caesar recalled. — Alarm in Rome. — Alterna- tive schemes. — Letters of Cicero. — Caesar^s crime in the eyes of the Optimates 3^g CHAPTER XXL C*8ar appeals to his army. — The tribunes join him at Rim- ^^'^' — Panic and flight of the Senate. — Incapacity of Pompey. — Fresh negotiations. — Advance of Csesar.— The country districts refuse to arm against him. — Cap- ture of Corfinium. — Release of the prisoners. — Offers fl of Caesar. — Continued hesitation of Cicero. — Advises ™ Pompey to make peace. —- Pompey with the Senate and consuls flies to Greece. -— Cicero's reflections. — Pompey to be another Sylla. — Csesar mortal, and may die by more means than one 1 . . . 389 CHAPTER XXII. Pompey's army in Spain. — Cassar at Rome. — Departure for Spain. — - Marseilles refuses to receive him. — Siege of Marseilles. — Defeat of Pompey's lieutenants at Lerida. •— The whole army made prisoners. — Surrender of Varro. — Marseilles taken. — Defeat of Curio by King Juba in Africa. — Caesar named Dictator. — Confusion in Rome. — Casar at Brindisi. — Crosses to Greece in midwinter. — Again offers peace. — Pompey's fleet in the Adriatic. Death of Bibulus. — Failure of negotiations. — Calius and Milo killed. — Arrival of Antony in Greece with the second divisions of Caesar's army. — Siege of Durazzo. — • Defeat and retreat of Caesar. — The Senate and Pompey. — Pursuit of Caesar. — Battle of Pharsalia. — Flight of Pompey. -— The camp taken. — Complete overthrow of the Senatorial faction. — Cicero on the situation once more 40<^ CHAPTER XXIH. Pompey flies to Egypt. — State of parties in Egypt. — Mur- del of Pompey. — His character. — Casar follow < him to Alexandria. — Rising in the city. — C^sar besiegea in the palace. — Desperate fighting. -- Arrival of Mithridates of Pergamus. —Battle near Cairo, and death of the youncr Pbolemy. — Cleopatra. — The detention of Casar enables Contents. xvil PAOl the Optimates to rally. — 111 conduct of Caesar's officers in Spain. — War with Pharnaces. — Battle of Zela, and settlement of Asia Minor 439 CHAPTER XXIV. J'lie aristocracy raise an army in Africa. — Supported by Juba. — Pharsalia not to end the war. — Caesar again in Rome. — Restores order. — Mutiny in Ca3sar's army. — The mutineers submit. — Csesar lands in Africa. — Diffi- culties of the campaign. — Battle of Thapsus. — No more pardons. — Afranius and Faustus Sylla put to death. — Cato kills himself at Utica. — Scipio killed. — Juba and Petreius die on each other's swords. — A scene in Caesar's camp 457 CHAPTER XXV. Rejoicings in Rome. — Csesar Dictator for the year. — Re- forms the Constitution. — Reforms the Calendar. — And the criminal law. — Dissatisfaction of Cicero. — Last ef- forts in Spain of Labienus and -the young Pompeys. — Csesar goes thither in person accompanied by Octavius. — Caesar's last battle at Munda. — Death of Labienus. — Capture of Cordova. — Close of the Civil War. — General reflections 471 CHAPTER XXVL Caesar once more in Rome. — General amnesty. — The sur- viving Optimates pretend to submit. — Increase in the number of Senators. — Introduction of foreigners. — New colonies. — Carthage. — Corinth. — Sumptuary regula- tions. — Digest of the law. — Intended Parthian war. — Honors lieaped on Caesar. — The object of them. — Cae- nar's indifference. — Some consolations. — Hears of con- spiracies, but disregards them. — Speculations of Cicero in the last stage of the war. — Speech in the Senate. — A contrast, and the meaning of it. — The Kingship. — Antony offers Caesar the crown, which Caesar refuses. — The assassins. — Who they were. — Brutus and Cassiiis. — Two officers of Caesar's among them. — Warnings. — Meeting of the conspirators. — Caesar's last evening. — The Ides of March. — The Senate-house. — Caesar killed. 486 xviii Contents. CHAPTER XXVII. Consternation in Eome. — The conspirators in the Capitol. — Unforeseen difficulties. — Speech of Cicero. — Caesar's funeral. — Speech of Antony. — Fury of the people. — The funeral pile in the Forum. — The King is dead, but the monarchy survives. — Fruitlessness of the murder. — Octavius and Antony. — Union of Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus. — Proscription of the assassins, — Philippi, and the end of Brutus and Cassius. — Death of Cicero. — His character 515 CHAPTER XXVm. General remarks on Caesar. — Mythological tendencies. — Supposed profligacy of Csesar. — Nature of the evidence. — Servilia. — Cleopatra. —Personal appearance of Cae- sar. — His manners in private life. — Considerations upon him as a politician, a soldier, and a man of letters. — Practical justice his chief aim as a politician. — Univer- sality of military genius. — Devotion of his army to him, how deserved. — Art of reconciling conquered peoples. — General scrupulousness and leniency. — Oratorical and literary style. — Cicero's description of it. — His lost works. — Cato's judgment on the Civil War. — How Cae- sar should be estimated. — Legend of Charles V. — Spir- itual condition of the age in which Caisar lived. — His work on earth to establish order and good government, to make possible the introduction of Christianity. — A parallel 58*1 I C^SAR: A SKETCH. CHAPTER L To the student of political history and to the Eng- lish student above all others, the conversion of the Roman Republic into a military empire commands a peculiar interest. Notwithstanding many differences, the English and the Romans essentially resemble one another. The early Romans possessed the faculty of self-government beyond any people of whom we have historical knowledge, with the one exception of our- selves. In virtue of their temporal freedom, they be- came the most powerful nation in the known world ; and their liberties perished only when Rome became the mistress of conquered races, to whom she was un- able or unwilling to extend her privileges. If Eng- land was similarly supreme, if all rival powers were eclipsed by her or laid under her feet, the imperial tendencies, which are as strongly marked in us as our love of liberty, might lead us over the same course to the same end. ylf there be one lesson which history clearly teaches, it is this, that free nations cannot govern subject provinces. If they are unable or un- willing to admit their dependencies to share theii* own constitution, the constitution itself will fall in pieces from mere incompetence for its duties^^^ We talk often foolishly of the necessities of things, 1 2 Ccesar. and we blame circumstances for tl e consequences of our own follies and vices ; but there are faults which are not faults of will, but faults of mere inadequacy to some unforeseen position. Human nature is equal to much, but not to everything. It can rise to alti- tudes where it is alike unable to sustain itself or to retire from them to a safer elevation. Yet when the field is open it pushes forward, and moderation in the pursuit of greatness is never learnt and never will be learnt. Men of genius are governed by their in- stinct; they follow where instinct leads them; and the public life of a nation is but the life of successive generations of statesmen, whose horizon is bounded, and who act from day to day as immediate interests suggest. The popular leader of the hour sees some present diflBculty or present opportunity of distinc- tion. He deals with each question as it arises, leav- ing future consequences to those who are to come after him. The situation changes from period to period, and tendencies are generated with an acceler- ating force, which, when once established, can never be reversed. When the control of reason is once re- moved, the catastrophe is no longer distant, and then nations, like all organized creations, all forms of life, from the meanest flower to the highest human insti- tution, pass through the inevitably recurring stages of growth and transformation and decay. A com- monwealth, says Cicero, ought to be immortal, and forever to renew its youth. Yet commonwealths have proved as unenduring as any other natural object: — Everything that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment, And this huge state presenteth nought but shows, Whereon the stars in silent intiuence comment. Conditions of National Life. 3 Nevertheless, '' as the heavens are high above the earth, so is wisdom above folly." Goethe compares life to a game at whist, where the cards are dealt out by destiny, and the rules of the game are fixed : sub ject to these conditions, the players are left to win or lose, according to their skill or want of skill. The life of a nation, like the life of a man, may be pro- longed in honor into the fulness of its time, or it may perish prematurely, for want of guidance, by violence or internal disorders. And thus the history of na- tional revolutions is to statesmanship what the pathol- ogy of disease is to the art of medicine. The physi- cian cannot arrest the coming on of age. Where disease has laid hold upon the constitution he cannot expel it. But he may check the progress of the evil if he can recognize the symptoms in time. He can save life at the cost of an unsound limb. He can tell us how to preserve our health when we have it ; he can warn us of the conditions under which particular disorders will have us at disadvantage. And so with nations : amidst the endless variety of circumstances there are constant phenomena which give notice of approaching danger ; there are courses of action which have uniformly produced the same results ; and the wise politicians are those who have learnt from experience the real tendencies of things, un misled by superficial differences, who can shun the rocks where others have been wrecked, or from fore- sight of what is coming can be cool when the peril is upon them. For these reasons, the fall of the Roman Republic is exceptionally instructive to us. A constitutional government the most enduring and the most power- ful that ever existed was put on its trial, and found 4 Ccesar. wanting. We see it in its growth ; we see the causes which undermined its strength. We see attempts to check the growing mischief fail, and we see why they failed. And we see, finally, when nothing seemed 80 likely as complete dissolution, the whole system changed by a violent operation, and the dj-ing pa- tient's life protracted for further centuries of power and usefulness. Again, irrespective of the direct teaching which we may gather from them, particular epochs in his- tory have the charm for us which dramas have — periods when the great actors on the stage of life stand before us with the distinctness with which they appear in the creations of a poet. There have not been many such periods; for to see the past, it is not enough for us to be able to look at it through the eyes of contemporaries ; these contemporaries them- selves must have been parties to the scenes which they describe. They must have had full opportuni- ties of knowledge. They must have had eyes which could see things in their true proportions. They must have had, in addition, the rare literary powers which can convey to others through the medium of language an exact picture of their own minds ; and such happy" combinations occur but occasionally in thousands of years. Generation after generation passes by, and is crumbled into sand as rocks are crumbled by the sea. Each brought with it its he- roes and its villains, its triumphs and its sorrows ; but the history is formless legend, incredible and un- intelligible ; the figures of the actors are indistinct as the rude ballad or ruder inscription, which may be the only authentic record of them. We do not see the men and women, we see only the outlines of them Teachings of History, b which have been woven into tradition as tljc;y Ap- peared to the loves or hatreds of passionate admirers or enemies. Of such times we know nothing, save the broad results as they are measured from century to century, with here and there some indestructible pebble, some law, some fragment of remarkable poetry which has resisted decomposition. These pe- riods are the proper subject of the philosophic his- torian, and to him we leave them. But there are others, a few, at which intellectual activity was as great as it is now, with its written records surviving, in which the passions, the opinions, the ambitions of the age, are all before us, where the actors in the great drama speak their own thoughts in their own words, where we hear their enemies denounce them and their friends praise them ; where we are our- selves plunged amidst the hopes and fears of the hour, to feel the conflicting emotions and to sympa- thize in the struggles which again seem to live : and here philosophy is at fault. Philosophy, when we are face to face with real men, is as powerless as over the Iliad or King Lear. The overmastering human interest transcends explanation. We do not sit in judgment on the right or the wrong; we jio not seek out causes to account for what takes place, feeling too conscious of the inadequacy of our analysis. We see human beings possessed by different impulses, and working out a preordained result, as the subtle forces drive each along the path marked out for him ; and history becomes the more impressive to us where it least immediately instructs. With such vividness, with such transparent clear- ness the age stands before us of Cato and Pompey, of Cicero and Julius Caesar ; the more distinctly be- 6 Ccpsar. cause it was an age in so many ways the counterpart of our own, the blossoming period of the old civiliza- tion, when the intellect was trained to the highest point which it could reach, and on the great subjects of human interest, on morals and politics, on poetry and art, even on religion itself and the speculative problems of life, men thought as we think, doubted w^here we doubt, argued as we argue, aspired and struggled after the same objects. It was an age of material progress and material civilization ; an age of civil liberty and intellectual culture ; an age of pam- phlets and epigrams, of salons and of dinner parties, of senatorial majorities and electoral corruption. The highest offices of state were open in theory to the meanest citizen ; they were confined, in fact, to those who had the longest purses, or the most ready use of the tongue on popular platforms. Distinctions of birth had been exchanged for distinctions of wealth. The struggles between plebeians and patricians for equality of privilege were over, and a new division had been formed between the party of property and a party who desired a change in the structure of so- ciety. The free cultivators were disappearing from the soil. Italj^ was being absorbed into vast estates, held ly a few favored families and cultivated by slaves, while the old agricultural population was driven off the land, and was crowded into towns. The rich were extravagant, for life had ceased to have practical interest, except for its material pleas- ures; the occupation of the higher classes was to ob- tain money without labor, and to spend it in idle enjoyment. Patriotism survived on the lips, but pa- triotism meant the ascendency of the party which would maintain the existing order of things, or would Ancient and Modern Civitization contrasted. 7 overthrow it for a more equal diatribntion of the good things which alone were valued. Religion, once the foundation of the laws and rule of personal conduct, liad subsided into opinion. The educated, in their hearts, disbelieved it. Temples were still built with increasing splendor ; the established forms were scru- pulously observed. Public men spoke conventionally of Providence, that they might throw on their op- ponents the odium of impiety ; but of genuine belief that life had any serious meaning, there was none re- maining beyond the circle of the silent, patient, igno- rant multitude. The whole spiritual atmosphere was saturated with cant — cant moral, cant political, cant religious ; an affectation of high principle which had ceased to touch the conduct, and flowed on in an in- creasing volume of insincere and unreal speech. The truest thinkers were those who, like Lucretius, spoke frankly out their real convictions, declared that Prov- idence was a dream, and that man and the world he lived in were material phenomena, generated by nat- ural forces out of cosmic atoms, and into atoms to be again resolved* Tendencies now in operation may a few generations hence land modern society in similar conclusions, un- less other convictions revive meanwhile and get the mastery of them ; of which possibility no more need be said than this, that unless there be such a revival in some shape or other, the forces, whatever they be, whiA control the forms in which human things ad- just themselves, will make an end again, as theymada an end before, of what are called free institutions. Popular forms of government are possible only when individual men can govern their own lives on moral principles, and when duty is of more importance than 8 Ccesar. pleasure, and justice than material expediency. Ptome at any rate had grown ripe for judgment. The shape which the judgment assumed was due perhaps, in a measure, to a condition which has no longer a parallel among us. The men and women by whom the liard work of the world was done were chiefly slaves, and those who constitute the driving force of revolutiona in modern Europe, lay then outside societj^, unable and perhaps uncaring to affect its fate. No change then possible would much influence the prospects of the unhappy bondsmen. The triumph of the party of the constitution would bring no liberty to them. That their masters should fall like themselves under the authority of a higher master could not much dis- tress them. Their sjanpathies, if they had any, would go with those nearest their owii rank, the emancipated slaves and the sons of those who were emancipated ; and they, and the poor free citizens everywhere, were to a man on the side which was considered and was called the side of " the people," and was, in fact, the side of despotism. CHAPTER II. The Romjx Constitution had grown out of the character of the Roman nation. It was popular iu form beyond all constitutions of which there is any record in history. The citizens assembled in the Comitia were the sovereign authority in the State, and they exercised their power immediately and not by representatives. The executive magistrates were chosen annually. The assembly was the supreme Court of Appeal ; and without its sanction no free- man could be lawfully put to death. In the assembly also was the supreme power of legislation. Any consul, any praetor, any tribune, might propose a law from the Rostra to the people. The people if it pleased them might accept such law, and senators and public officers might be sworn to obey it under pains of treason. As a check on precipitate resolu- tions, a single consul or a single tribune might in- terpose his veto. But the veto was binding only so long as the year of office continued. If the people were in earnest, submission to their wishes could be made a condition at the next election, and thus no constitutional means existed of resisting them when these wishes chowed themselves. In normal times the Senate was allowed the privi- lege of preconsidering intended acts of legislation, and refusing to recommend them if inexpedient, but the privilege was only converted into a right after violent convulsions, and was never able to maintain 10 Ccesar, itself. That under such a system the functions of government could have been carried on at all was due entirely to the habits of self-restraint, which the Romans had engraved into their nature. They were called a nation of kings, kings over their own ap- petites, passions, and inclinations. They were not imaginative, they were not intellectual ; they had little national poetry, little art, little philosophy. They were moral and practical. In these two direc- tions the force that was in them entirely ran. They were free politically, because freedom meant to them, not freedom to do as they pleased, but freedom to do w^hat was right ; and every citizen, before he arrived at his civil privileges, had been schooled in the disci- pline of obedience. Each head of a household was absolute master of it, master over his children and servants, even to the extent of life and death. What the father was to the family, the gods were to the whole people, the awful lords and rulers at whose pleasure they lived and breathed. Unlike the Greeks, the reverential Romans invented no idle legends about the supernatural world. The gods to them were the guardians of the State, whose will in all things they were bound to seek and to obey. The forms in which they endeavored to learn what that will might be were childish or childlike. They looked to signs in the sky, to thunder-storms and comets and shooting stars. Birds, winged messen- gers, as they thought them, between earth and heaven, were celestial indicators of the gods' commands. But omens and auguries were but the outward symbols, and the Romans, like all serious peoples, went to their own hearts for their real guidance. They had a unique religious peculiarity, to which no race of Moral Character of the Romans. 11 men Las produced anything like. They did not em- body the elemental forces in personal forms ; they did not fashion a theology out of the movements of the sun and stars or the changes of the seasons. Traces may be found among them of cosmic tradi- tions and superstitions, which were common to all the world; but they added of their own this especial feature : that they built temples and offered sacrifices to the highest human excellences, to '' Valor," to ''Truth," to "Good Faith," to ''Modesty," to *' Charity," to "Concord." In these qualities lay all that raised man above the animals with which he had so much in common. In them, therefore, were to be found the link which connected him with the Divine nature, and moral qualities were regarded as Divine influences which gave his life its meaning and its worth. The " Virtues " were elevated into beings to whom disobedience could be punished as a crime, and the superstitious fears which run so often into mischievous idolatries were enlisted with conscience in the direct service of right action. On the same principle the Romans chose the he- roes and heroines of their national history. The Manlii and Valerii were patterns of courage, the Lu- cretias and Virginias of purity, the Decii and Curtii of patriotic devotion, the Reguli and Fabricii of stain- less truthfulness. On the same principle, too, they had a public officer whose functions resembled those of the Church courts in mediaeval Europe, a Censor Morum, an inquisitor who might examine into the habits of private families, rebuke extravagance, check luxury, punish vice and self-indulgence, naj, who could remove from the Senate, the great council of aiders, persons whose moral conduct was a reproach 12 CoBsar, fco a body on whose reputation no shadow could be al- lo\ved to rest. Such the Romans were in the day when their do- minion had not extended beyond the limits of Italy ; and because they were such they were able to prosper under a constitution which to modem experience would promise only the most hopeless confusion. Morality thus ingrained in the national character and grooved into habits of action creates strength, as nothing else creates it. The difficulty of conduct does not lie in knowing what it is right to do, but in doing it when known. Intellectual culture does not touch the conscience. It provides no motives to over- come the weakness of the will, and with wider know^l- edge it brings also new temptations. The sense of duty is present in each detail of life; the obligatory "must" which binds the will to the course which right principle has marked out for it, produces a fibre, like the fibre of the oak. The educated Greeks knew little of it. They had courage, and genius, and en- thusiasm, but they had no horror of immorality as such. The Stoics saw what was wanting, and tried to supply it ; but though they could provide a theory of action, they could not make the theory into a real- ity, and it is noticeable that Stoicism as a rule of life became important only when adopted by the Romans. The Catholic Church effected something in its better days when it had its courts which treated sins as crimes. Calvinism, while it was believed, produced characters nobler and grander than any which Re- publican Rome produced. But the Catholic Church turned its penances into money payments. Calvin- ism made demands on faith beyond what truth would beai ' and when doubt had once entered, the spell of 3Iorality and Intellect, 13 CalvinisiTL was broken. The veracity of the Romans, and perhaps the happy accident that they had no in- herited religious traditions, saved them for centuries from similar trials. They had hold of real truth un- alloyed with baser metal ; and truth had made them free and kept them so. When all else has passed away, when theologies have yielded up their real meaning, and creeds and symbols have become trans- parent, and man is again in contact with the hard facts of nature, it will be found that the "Virtues" which the Romans made into gods contain in them the essence of true religion, that in them lies the special characteristic which distinguishes human be- ings from the rest of animated things. Every other creature exists for itself, and cares for its own preser- vation. Nothing larger or better is expected from it or possible to it. To man it is said, you do not live for yom'self. If you live for yourself you shall come to nothing. Be brave, be just, be pure, be true in word and deed; care not for your enjoyment, care not for your life ; care only for what is right. So, and not otherwise, it shall be well with you. So the Maker of you has ordered, whom you will disobey at your peril. Thus and thus only are nations formed which are destined to endure ; and as habits based on such con- victions are slow in growing, so when grown to ma- turity they survive extraordinary trials. But nations are made up of many persons in circumstances of endless variety. In country districts, where the rou- tine of life continues simple, the type of character remains unaffected ; generation follows on generation exposed to the same influences and treacling in the same steps. But the morality of habit, though the most important element in human conduct, is still but 14 Ccesar. a part of it. Moral habits grow under given condi tions. They correspond to a given degree of temp- tation. When men are removed into sitnations where the use and wont of their fathers no longer meets their necessities ; where new opportunities are offered to tJiem; where their opinions are broken in upon by new ideas ; where pleasures tempt them on every side, and they have but to stretch out their hand to take them ; moral habits yield under the strain, and they have no other resource to fall back upon. In- tellectual cultivation brings with it rational interests. Knowledge, which looks before and after, acts as a restraining power, to help conscience when it flags. Tlie sober and Avholesome manners of life among the early Romans had given them vigorous minds in vigorous bodies. The animal nature had grown as strongly as the moral nature, and along with it the animal appetites; and when appetites burst their tra- ditionary restraints, and man in himself has no other notion of enjoyment beyond bodily pleasure, he may pass by an easy transition into a mere powerful brute. And thus it happened with the higher classes at Rome after the destruction of Carthage. Italy had fallen to them by natural and wholesome expansion ; but from being sovereigns of Italy, they became a race of imperial conquerors. Suddenly and in compara- tively a few years after the one power was gone which could resist them, they became the actual or virtual rulers of the entire circuit of the Mediterranean. The southeast of Spain, the coast of France from the Pyrenees to Nice, the north of Italy, Illyria and Greece, Sardinia, Sicily, and the Greek Islands, tlie southern and western shores of Asia Minor, were Ro- man provinces, governed directly under Roman mag- jEJxpansion of Roman Power, 15 istrates. On the African side Mauritania (Morocco) was still free. Numidia (the modern Algeria) re- tained its native dynasty, but was a Koman de- pendency. The Carthaginian dominions, Tunis and Tripoli, had been annexed to the Empire. The in- terior of Asia Minor up to the Euphrates, with Syria and Egypt, were under sovereigns called Allies, but, like the native princes in India, subject to a Roman protectorate. Over this enormous territory, rich with the accumulated treasures of centuries, and inhabited by thriving, industrious races, the energetic Roman men of business had spread and settled themselves, gathering into their hands the trade, the financial administration, the entire commercial control of the Mediterranean basin. They had been trained in thrift and economy, in abhorrence of debt, in strictest habits of close and careful management. Their frugal education, their early lessons in the value of money, good and excellent as those lessons were, led them, as a matter of course, to turn to account their extraor- dinary opportunities. Governors with their staffs, permanent officials, contractors for the revenue, nego- tiators, bill-brokers, bankers, merchants, were scattered everywhere in thousands. Money poured in upon them in rolling streams of gold. The largest share of the spoils fell to the Senate and the senatorial fam- ilies. The Senate was the permanent Council of State, and was the real administrator of the Empire. The Senate had the control of the treasury, conducted the public policy, appointed from its own ranks Iplie governors of the provinces. It was patrician in sen- timent, but not necessarily patrician in composition. The members of it had virtually been elected for life by the people, and were almost entirely those who had 16 Ccesar, been quaestors, cedlles, prastors, or consuls ; and these offices had been long open to the plebeians. It was an aristocracy, in theorj^ a real one, but tending to become, as civilization went forward, an aristocracy of the rich. How the senatorial privileges affected the management of the provinces will be seen more particularly as we go on. It is enough at present to say that the nobles and great commoners of Rome rapidly found themselves in possession of revenues which their fathers could not have imagined in their dreams, and money in the stage of progress at which Rome had arrived was convertible into power. The opportunities opened for men to advance their fortunes in other parts of the world drained Italy of many of its most enterprising citizens. The grand- sons of the yeomen who had held at bay Pyrrhus and Hannibal sold their farms and went away. The small holdings merged rapidly into large estates bought up by the Roman capitalists. At the final settlement of Italy, some millions of acres had been reserved to the State as public property. The " public land," as the reserved portion was called, had been leased on easy terms to families with political influence, and by lapse of time, by connivance and right of occupation, these families were beginnhig to regard their tenui-es HS their private property, ^md to treat them as lords of manors in England have treated the " commons." Thus everywhere the small farmers were disappear- ingj and the soil of Italy was fast passing into the liamds of a few territorial magnates, who, unfort- unately (for it tended to aggravate the mischief), were enabled by another cause to turn their vast pos- sessions to advantage. The conquest of the world had turned the flower of the defeated nations into 1 Roman Slavery, 17 slaves. The prisoners taken either after a battle, or when cities surrendered unconditionally, were bough ti up steadily by contractors who followed in the rear of the Roman armies. They were not ignorant like the negroes, but trained, useful, and often educated men, Asiatics, Greeks, Thracians, Gauls, and Span- iards, able at once to turn their hands to some form of skilled labor, either as clerks, mechanics, or farm servants. The great land-owners might have paused in their purchases had the alternative lain before them of letting their lands lie idle or of having free- men to cultivate them. It was otherwise when a resource so convenient and so abundant was opened at their feet. The wealthy Romans bought slaves by thousands. Some they employed in their work- shops in the capital. Some they spread over their plantations, covering the country, it might be, with olive gardens and vineyards, swelling further the plethoric figures of their owners' incomes. It was convenient for the few, but less convenient for the Commonwealth. The strength of Rome was in her free citizens. Where a family of slaves was settled down, a village of freemen had disappeared ; the material for the legions diminished ; the dregs of the free population which remained behind crowded into Rome, without occupation, except in politics, and with no property save in their votes, of course to be- ?.ome the clients of the millionnaires, and to sell themselves to the highest bidders. With all his wealth there were but two things which the Roman noble could bay — political power and luxury, — and in these directions his whole resources were expended. The elections, once pure, became matters of animal bargain between himself and his supporters. The 2 18 Ccesar. once hardy, abstemious mode of living degenerated into grossness and sensuality. And his character was assailed simultaneously on another side with equally mischievous effect. The conquest of Greece brought to Rome a taste for knowl- edge and culture; but the culture seldom passed below the surface, and knowledge bore but the old fruit which it had borne in Eden. The elder Cato used to say that the Romans were like their slaves — the less Greek they knew the better they were. They had believed in the gods with pious simplicity. The Greeks introduced them to an Olympus of di- vinities 'whom the practical Roman found that he must either abhor or deny to exist. The " Virtues " which he had been taught to reverence had no place among the graces of the new theology. Reverence Jupiter he could not, and it was easy to persuade him that Jupiter was an illusion ; that all religions were but the creations of fancy, his own among them. Gods there might be, airy beings in the deeps of space, engaged like men with their own enjoyments ; but to suppose that these high spirits fretted them- selves with the affairs of the puny beings that crawled upon the earth was a delusion of vanit}^ Thus, while morality was assailed on one side by ex- traordinary temptations, the religious sanction of it was undermined on the other. The Romans ceased to believe, and in losing their faith they became as steel becomes when it is demagnetized : the spiritual quality was gone out of them, and the high society of Rome itself became a society of powerful animals with an enormous appetite for pleasure. "Wealth poured in more and more, and luxury grew more un- bounded. Palaces sprang up in the city, castles in The Roma7i Rohle. 19 the country, villas at pleasant places by the sea, and parks, and fish-ponds, and game preserves, and gardens, and vast retinues of servants. When nat- ural pleasures had been indulged in to satiety, pleas- ures which were against nature were imported from the East to stimulate the exhausted appetite. To make money — money by any means, lawful or. un- lawful — became the universal passion. Even the most cultivated patricians were coarse alike in their habits and their amusements. They cared for art as dilettanti, but no schools either of sculpture or paint- ing were formed among themselves. They decorated their porticoes and their saloons with the plunder of the East. The stage was never more than an ar- tificial taste with them ; their delight was the delight of barbarians, in spectacles, in athletic exercises, in horse-races and chariot races, in the combats of wild animals in the circus, combats of men with beasts on choice occasions, and, as a rare excitement, in fights between men and men, when select slaves trained as gladiators were matched in pairs to kill each other. Moral habits are all-sufiicient while they last ; but with rude strong natures they are but chains which hold the passions prisoners. Let the chain break, and the released brute is but the more powerful for evil from the force which his constitution has inherited. Money ! the cry was still money ! — money was the one thought from the highest senator to the poorest wretch who sold his vote in the Comitia. For money judges gave unjust decrees and juries gave corrupt verdicts. Governors held their provinces for one, two, or three years ; they went out bankrupt from extra^'agance,, they returned with millions for fresh riot, To obtain a province was the first ambition Ccesar of 11 Roman noble. The road to it lay through the pr^etorship and the consulship ; these oflBces, there- fore, became the prizes of the State ; and being in the gift of the people, they were sought after by means which demoralized alike the giyers and the re- ceivers. The elections were managed by clubs mid coteries ; and, except on occasions of national danger or political excitement, those who spent most freely were most certain of success. Under these conditions the chief powers in the Com- monwealth necessarily centred in the rich. There was no longer an aristocracy of birth, still less of virtue. The patrician families had the start in the race. Great names and great possessions came to them by inheritance. But the door of promotion was open to all who had the golden key. The great conimoners bought their way into the magistracies. From the magistracies they passed into the Senate ; and the Roman senator, though in Rome itself and in free debate among his colleagues he was handled as an ordinary man, when he travelled had the honors of a sovereign. The three hundred senators of Rome were three hundred princes. They moved about in other countries with the rights of legates, at the ex- pense of the province, with their trains of slaves and horses. The proud privilege of Roman citizenship was still jealously reserved to Rome itself and to a few favored towns and colonies ; and a mere subject could maintain no rights against a member of the haughty oligarchy which controlled the civilized world. Sucli generally the Roman Republic had be- come, or was tending to become, in the years which followed the fall of Carthage, B. c. 146. Pubho epirit in the masses was dead or sleeping ; the Cora- Beginnings of Discontent. 21 monwealtli was a plutocracy. The free forms of the constitution were themselves the instruments of cor- ruption. The rich were happy in the possession of all that they could desire. The multitude was kept quiet by the morsels of meat which were flung to it when it threatened to be troublesome. The seven thousand in Israel, the few who in all states and in nil times remain pure in the midst of evil, looked on with disgust, fearing that any remedy which they might try might be worse than the disease. All or- ders in a society may be wise and virtuous, but all cannot be rich. Wealth which is used only for idle luxury is always envied, and envy soon curdles into hate. It is easy to persuade the masses that the good things of this world are unjustly divided, especially when it happens to be the exact truth. It is not easy to set limits to an agitation once set on foot, however justly it may have been provoked, when the cry for change is at once stimulated by interest and can disguise its real character under the passionate language of patriotism. But it was not to be ex- pected that men of noble natures, young men espe- cially whose enthusiasm had not been cooled by expe- rience, would sit calmly by while their country was going thus headlong to perdition. Redemption, if re- demption was to be hoped for, could come only from free citizens in the country districts whose manners and whose minds were still uncontaminated, in whom the ancient habits of life still survived, who still be- lieved in the gods, who were contented to follow the wholesome round of honest labor. The numbers of Guch citizens were fast dwindling away before the onini\-orous appetite of the rich for territorial aggran- dizement. To rescue the land from the monopolists, 22 Omar. to renovate the old independent yeomanry, to pre- vent the free population of Italy, out of which the legions had been formed which had built up the Em- pire, from being pushed out of their places and sup- planted by foreign slaves, this^ if it could be done, would restore the purity of thi constituency, snatch the elections from the control of corruption, and rear up fresh generations of peasant soldiers to preserve the liberties and the glories which their fathers had won. CHAPTER III. TiBEBius GnACCHUS was born about the year 1G4 B. C. He was one of twelve children, nine of whom died in infancy, himself, his brother Caius, and his sister Cornelia being the only survivors. His family was plebeian, but of high antiquity, his ancestors for several generations having held the highest offices in the Republic, On the mother's side he was the grandson of Scipio Africanus. His father, after a distinguished career as a soldier in Spain and Sar- dinia, had attempted reforms at Rome. He had been censor, and in this capacity he had ejected disreputa- ble senators from the Curia ; he had degraded of- fending Equites ; he had rearranged and tried to purify the Comitia. But his connections were aris- tocratic. His wife was the daughter of the most il- lustrious of the Scipios. His own daughter was married to the second most famous of them, Scipio Africanus the Younger. He had been himself in an- tagonism with the tribunes, and had taken no part at any time in popular agitations. The fatlier died when Tiberius was still a boy, and the two brothers grew up under the care of their mother, a noble and gifted lady. They dis- played early remarkable talents. Tiberius, when old enough, went into the army, and served under his brother-in-law in the last Carthaginian campaign. He was first on the walls of the city in the final *torm. Ten years later he went to Spain as Quaes- 24 C(je^ar, tor, where he carried on his fathei's popularity, and by taking the people's side in some questions fell into disagreement with his brother-in-law. His political viewv3 had perhaps already inclined to change. He was still of an age when indignation at oppression calls out a practical desire to resist it. On his jour- ney home from Spain he witnessed scenes which con- firmed his conviction and determined him to throw all his energies into the popular cause. His road lay through Tuscany, where he saw the large estate sys- tem in full operation — the fields cultivated hj the slave gangs, the free citizens of the Republic thrust away into the towns, aliens and outcasts in their own country, without a foot of soil which they could call their own. In Tuscany, too, the vast domains of the landlords had not even been fairly purchased. They were parcels of the ager publicus^ land belonging to the State, which, in spite of a law forbidding it, the great lords and commoners had appropriated and divided among themselves. Five hundred acres of State land was the most which by statute any one lessee might be allowed to occupy. But the law was obsolete or sleeping, and avarice and vanity were awake and active. Young Gracchus, in indignant pity, resolved to rescue the people's patrimony. He was chosen tribune in the year 133. His brave mother and a few patricians of the old type encour- aged him, and the battle of the revolution began. The Senate, as has been said, though without direct legislative authority, had been allowed the right of reviewing any new schemes which were to be sub- niittcMl to the assembly. The constitutional means of pn^venting tribunes from carrying unwise or un welcome measures lay in a consul's veto, or in th( Tha G-racrJiL 26 help of the College of Augurs, who could declare the auspices unfavorable, and so close all public busi- ness. These resources were so awkward tliat it had been found convenient to secure beforehand the Sen- ate's approbation, and the encroachment, being long submitted to, was passing by custom into a rule. But the Senate, eager as it was, had not yet suc- ceeded in engrafting the practice into the constitu- tion. On the land question the leaders of the aris- tocracy were the principal offenders. Disregarding usage, and conscious that the best men of all ranks were with him, Tiberius Gracchus appealed directly to the people to revive the Agrarian law. His pro- posals were not extravagant. That they should have been deemed extravagant was a proof of how much some measure of the kind was needed. Where lands had been inclosed and money laid out on them he was willing that the occupants should have compen- sation. But they had no right to the lands them- selves. Gracchus persisted that the ager publicus belonged to the people, and that the race of yeomen, for whose protection the law had been originally passed, must be reestablished on their farms. No form of property gives to its owners so much conse- quence as land, and there is no point on which in every country an aristocracy is more sensitive. The large owners protested that they had purchased their interests on the faith that the law was obsolete. They had planted and built and watered with the sanction of the Government, and to call their titles iu question was to shake the foundations of society. The popular party pointed to the statute. The mo- ^jopolists were entitled in justice to less than was offered them. They had no right to a compensation 26 Ccesar. at all. Political passion awoke again after the sleep of a century. The oligarchy had doubtless con- nived at the accumulations. The suppression of the small holdings favored their supremacy, and placed the elections more completely in their control. Their military successes had given them so long a tenure of power that they had believed it to be theirs in per- petuity ; and the new sedition, as they called it, threatened at once their privileges and their fortunes. The quarrel assumed the familiar form of a struggle between the rich and the poor, and at such times the mob of voters becomes less easy to corrupt. They go with their order, as the prospect of larger gain makes them indifferent to immediate bribes. It be- came clear that the majority of the citizens would support Tiberius Gracchus, but the constitutional forms of opposition might still be resorted to. Octa- vius Coscina, another of the tribunes, had himself large interests in the land question. He was the people's magistrate, one of the body appointed especially ta defend their rights, but he went over to the Senate, and, using a power which undoubtedly belonged to him, he forbade the vote to be taken. There was no precedent for the removal of either consul, praetor, or tribune, except under circumstances very different from any which could as yet be said to have arisen. The magistrates held office for a year only, and the power of veto had been allowed them expressly to secure time for deliberation and to prevent passionate legislation. But Gracchus was young and enthusiastic. Precedent or no precedent, the citizens were omnipotent. He invited tliem to declare his colleague deposed. They had warmed to the fight and complied. A more experienced states* The GracchL 27 man would have known that established constitu- tional bulwarks cannot be swept away by a momen- tary vote. He obtained his Agrarian law. Three commissioners were appointed, himself, his younger brother, and his father-in-law, Appius Claudius, to carry it into effect ; but the very names showed that he had alienated his few supporters in the higher circles, and that a single family was now contending against the united w^ealth and distinction of Rome. The issue was only too certain. Popular enthusiasm is but a fire of straw. In a year Tiberius Gracchus would be out of office. Other tribunes would be chosen more amenable to influence, and his work could then be undone. He evidently knew that those who would succeed him could not be relied on to carry on his policy. He had taken one revolutionary step already ; he was driven on to another, and he offered himself illegally to the Comitia for reelection. It was to invite them to abolish the constitution and to make him virtual sovereign ; and that a young man of thirty should have contemplated such a posi- tion for himself as possible is of itself a proof of his unfitness for it. The election day came. The noble lords and gentlemen appeared in the Campus Martins with their retinues of armed servants and clients; hot-blooded aristocrats, full of disdain for dema- gogues, and meaning to read a lesson to sedition which it Avould not easily forget. Votes were given for Gracchus. Had the hustings been left to decide the matter, he would have been chosen ; but as it began to appear how the polling would go, sticks were used and sw^ords ; a riot rose, the unarmed citi- zens were driven off, Tiberius Graccluis himself and chree hundred of his friends were killed and their bodies were flung into the Tiber. 28 Ccesar, Thus the first sparks of the coming revolution were trampled out. But though quenched and to be again quenched with fiercer struggles, it was to smoulder and smoke and burst out time after time, till its w^ork was done. Revolution could not restore the ancient character of the Roman nation, but it could check the progress of decay by burning away the more corrupted parts of it. It could destroy the aristocracy and the constitution which they had de- praved, and under other forms preserve for a few more centuries the Roman dominion. Scipio Afri- canus, when he heard in Spain of the end of his brother-in-law, exclaimed '' May all who act as he did perish like him ! " There were to be victims enough and to spare before the bloody drama was played out. Quiet lasted for ten years, and then, precisely when he had reached bis brother's age, Caius Grac- chus came forward to avenge him, and carry the movement through another stage. Young Caius had been left one of the commissioners of the land law; and it is particularly noticeable that though the author of it had been killed, the law had survived him, being too clearly right and politic in itself to be openly set aside. For two years the commissioners had continued to work, and in that time forty thou- sand families were settled on various parts of the ager jmblicus^ which the patricians had been com- pelled to resign. This was all which tliey could do. The displacement of one set of inhabitants and the introduction of another could not be accomplished without quarrels, complaints, and perhaps some in- justice. Those who were ejected were always exas- perated. Those who entered on possession were not always satisfied. The commissioners became unpop The GraechL 29 ular. When the cries against them became loud enough, they were suspended, and the law was then quietly repealed. The Senate had regained its hold over the assembly, and had a further opportunity of showing its recovered ascendency when, two years after the murder of Tiberius Gracchus, one of his friends introduced a bill to make the tribunes legally recligible. Caius Gracchus actively supported the change, but it had no success ; and, waiting till times had altered, and till he had arrived himself at an age when he could carry weight, the young brother re- tired from politics, and spent the next few years with the army in Africa and Sardinia. He served with distinction ; he made a name for himself, both as a soldier and an administrator. Had the Senate left him alone, he might have been satisfied with a regu- lar career, and have risen by the ordinary steps to the consulship. But the Senate saw in him the possibil- ities of a second Tiberius ; the higher his reputation, the more formidable he became to them. They vexed him with petty prosecutions, charged him with crimes which had no existence, and at length by sus picion and injustice drove him into open war witW them. Caius Gracchus had a broader intellect than his brother, and a character considerably less noble. The land question he perceived was but one of many questions. The true source of the disorders of the Commonwealth was the Senate itself. The adminis- tration of the Empire Avas in the hands of men to- tally unfit to be trusted with it, and there he thouoht the reform must commence. He threw himself on the people. He w^as chosen tribune in 123, ten yeai's exactly after Tiberius. He had studied the disposi- tion of parties. He had seen his brother fall becausw* I 80 Ccesar. the Equites and tlie senators, tlie great commoners and the nobles, were combined against him. He re- vived the Agrarian law as a matter of course, but he disarmed the opposition to it by throwing an apple of discoid between the two superior orders. The high judicial functions in the Commonwealth had been hitherto a senatorial monopoly. All cases of impor- tance, civil or criminal, came before courts of sixty or seventy jurymen, who, as the law stood, must be necessarily senators. The privilege had been ex- tremely lucrative. The corruption of justice was al- ■ ready notorious, though it had not yet reached the level of infamy which it attained in another genera- tion. It was no secret that in ordinary causes jury- jiien had sold their verdicts ; and far short of taking bribes in the direct sense of the word, there were many ways in which they could let themselves be ap- proached, and their favor purchased. A monopoly of privileges is always invidious. A monopoly in the sale of justice is alike hateful to those who abhor in- iquity on principle and to those who would like to share the profits of it. But this was not the worst. The governors of the provinces, being chosen from those who had been consuls or praetors, were necessa- rily members of the Senate. Peculation and extor- tion in these high functions were offences in theory of the gravest kind ; but the offender could only be tried before a limited number of his peers, and a gov- ernor who had plundered a subject state, sold justice, pillaged temples, and stolen all that he could lay hands on, was safe from punishment if he returned \o Rome a millionnaire and would admit others to a Amre in his spoils. The provincials might send dep- itations to complain, but these complaints came be- The Gracchi, 31 fore men who had themselves governed provinces or else aspired to govern them. It had been proved in too many instances that the law which professed to protect them was a mere mockery. Caius Gracchus secured the affections of the knights to himself, and some slightly increased chance of an improvement in the provincial administration, by carrying a law in the assembly disabling the senators from sitting on juries of any kind from that day for- ward, and transferring the judicial functions to* the Equites. How bitterly must such a measure have been resented by the Senate, which at once robbed them of their protective and profitable privileges, handed them over to be tried by their rivals for their pleasant irregularities, and stamped them at the same time with the brand of dishonesty ! How certainly must such a measure have been deserved when neither consul nor tribune could be found to interpose his vote! Supported by the grateful knights, Caiua Gracchus was for the moment all powerful. It was not enough to restore the Agrarian law. He passed another aimed at his brother's murderers, which was to bear fruit in later years, that no Roman citizen might be put to death by any person, however high in authority, without legal trial, and without appeal, if he chose to make it, to the sovereign people. A blow was thus struck against another right claimef the proscription. Cicero, no doubt, knew that tliere would be no surer road to favor with the Roman multitude than by denouncing Sylla's follow- ers, paid that, J^oung and unknown as he was, his in- significance might protect him, however far he vent- ured. But he had taken the Senate's side. From first to last he had approved of the reactionary con- stitution, and had only condemned the ruthless meth- ods by which it had been established. He never sought the popularity of a demagogue, or appealed to popular passions, or attempted to create a prejudice against the aristocracy, into whose ranks he intended to make his way. He expressed the opinions of the respectable middle classes, who had no sympathy with revolutionists, but who dreaded soldiers and military rule and confiscations of propertj\ The occasion on which Cicero came forward was characteristic of the time. Sextus Roscius was a country gentleman of good position, residing near Ameria, in Umbria. He had been assassinated when on a visit to Rome by two of his relations, who wished to get possession of his estate. Tlie proscription was First Public Appearance of Cicero, 97 over, and the list had been closed ; but Roscius's name was surreptitiously entered upon it, with the help of Sylla's favorite freedman, Chrysogonus. The assassins obtained an acknowledgment of their claims, and they and Chrysogonus divided the spoils. Sex- tus Roscius was entirely innocent. He had taken no part in politics at all. He had left a son who was his natural heir, and the township of Ameria sent up a petition to Sylla remonstrating against so iniquitous a robbery. The conspirators, finding themselves in danger of losing the reward of their crime, shifted their ground. They denied that they had themselves killed Sextus Roscius. They said that the son had done it, and they charged him with parricide. Wit- nesses were easily provided. No influential pleader, \t was justly supposed, would venture into antago- nism with Sylla's favorite, and appear for the defence. Cicero heard of the case, however, and used the op- portunity to bring himself into notice. He advocated young Roscius's cause with skill and courage. He told the whole story in court without disguise. He did not blame Sylla. He compared Sylla to Jupiter Optimus Maximus, who was sovereign of the Uni- verse, and on the whole a good sovereign, bat with so much business on his hands that he had not time to look into details. But Cicero denounced Chrys- ogonus as an accomplice in an act of atrocious vil- lainy. The court took the same view, and the rising orator had the honor of clearing the reputation of the injured youth, and of recovering his property for him. Sylla showed no resentment, and probably felt none. He lived for a year after his retirement, and died 78 B. ('-., being occupied at the moment in writ- 98 Coesar. ing his memoirs, which have been unfortunately lost. He was buried gorgeously in the Campus Martins, among the old kings of Rome. The aristocrats breathed freely when delivered from his overpower- ing presence, and the constitution which he had set upon its feet was now to be tried. CHAPTER IX. The able men of the democracy had fallen in the proscription. Sertorius, the only eminent surviving soldier belonging to them, was awaj^, making himself independent in Spain. The rest were all killed. But the Senate, too, had lost in Sylla the single statesman that they possessed. They were a body of mediocrities, left with absolute power in their hands, secure as they supposed from further inter- ference, and able to return to those pleasant occupa- tions which for a time had been so rudely inter- rupted. Sertorius was an awkward problem with which Pompey might perhaps be intrusted to deal. No one knew as yet what stuff might be in Pompey. He was for the present sunning himself in his mili- tary splendors ; too young to come forward as a poli- tician, and destitute, so far as appeared, of political ambition. If Pompey promised to be docile, he might be turned to use at a proper time ; but the aristocracy had seen too much of successful military commanders, and were in no hurry to give opportuni- ties of distinction to a youth who had so saucily de- fied them. Sertorius was far off, and could be dealt with at leisure. In his defence of Roscius, Cicero had given an ad- monition to the noble lords that unless they mended their ways they could not look for any long continu- ance.^ They regarded Cicero perhaps, if they heard 1 *'Unumhoc dico: nostri isti nobiles, nisi vigilantes et boni et fortes ct misericordes eru\at, iis hominibus in quibus Usee erunt, ornamenta sua conc»dimt necesse est." — Pro Roscio Amerino^ sec. 48. 5.0FC. 100 Ccemr, what he said of them, as an inexperienced young man, who would understand better by and by of what materials the world was made. There had been excitement and anxiety enough. Conservatism was in power again. Fine gentlemen could once more lounge in their clubs, amuse themselves with their fish-ponds and horses and mistresses, devise new and ever new means of getting money and spending it, and leave the Roman Empire for the present to govern itself. The leading public men belonging to the party in power had all served in some capacity or other with Sylla or under liim. Of those whose names deserve particular mention there were at most five. Licinius LucuUus had been a special favorite of Sylla. The Dictator left him his executor, with the charge of his manuscripts. LucuUus was a com- moner, but of consular family, and a thorough-bred aristocrat. He had endeared himself to Sylla by a languid talent which could rouse itself when neces- sary into brilliant activity, by the easy culture of a polished man of rank, and by a genius for luxlury, which his admirers followed at a distance, imitating their master but hopeless of overtaking him. Coecilius Metellus, son of the Metellus whom Ma- rius had superseded in Africa, had been consul with Sylla in 80 B. c. He w^as now serving in Spain against Sertorius, and was being gradually driven out of the Peninsula. Lutatius Catulus was a proud but honest patrician, with the conceit of his order, but without their vices. His father, who had been Marius's colleague, and had been defeated by the Cimbri, had killed himself dur- ing the Marian revolution. The son had escaped. Crassus. 101 and was one of the consuls at the time of Sylla's death. More noticeable than either of these was Marcus Crassus, a figure singularly representative, of plebe- ian family, but a family long adopted into the closest circle of the aristocracy, the leader and impersonation of the great moneyed classes in Rome. Wealth had for several generations been the characteristic of the Crassi. They had the instinct and the temperament which in civilized ages take to money-making as a natural occupation. In politics they aimed at being on the successful side ; but living, as they did, in an era of revolutions, they were surprised occasionally in unpleasant situations. Crassus the rich, father of Marcus, had committed himself against Marius, and had been allowed the privilege of being his own exe- cutioner. Marcus himself, who was a little older than Cicero, took refuge in Sylla's camp. He made himself useful to the Dictator by his genius for finance, and in return he was enabled to amass an enormous fortune for himself out of the proscriptions. His eye for business readied over the whole Roman Empire. He was banker, speculator, contractor, merchant. He lent money to the spendthrift young lords, but with sound securities and at usurious in- terest. He had an army of slaves — but these slaves were not ignorant field hands ; they wero skilled workmen in all arts and trades, whose labors he turned to profit in building streets and palaces. Thus all that he touched turned to gold. He was the wealthiest single individual in the whole Em- pire, the acknowledged head of the business world of Rome. The last person who need be noted was Marcus 102 Ccesar. -^miliiis I/epidus, the father of the future colkague of Augustas and Antony. Lepidus, too, had been an officer of Sylla's. He had been rewarded for his services by the government of Sicily, and when Sylla died was tlie second consul with Catulus. It was said against him that, like so many other governors, he had enriched himself by tyrannizing over his Sicil- ian subjects. His extortions had been notorious ; he was threatened with prosecution as soon as his con- sulship should expire ; and the adventure to which he was about to commit himself was undertaken, so the aristocrats afterwards maintained, in despair of an acquittal. Lepidus's side of the story was never told, but another side it certainly had. Though one of Sylla's generals, he had married the daughter of the tribune Saturninus. He had been elected consul by a very large majority against the wishes of the Senate, and was suspected of holding popular opin- ions. It may be that the prosecution was an after- thought of revenge, and that Lepidus was to have been tried before a senatorial jury already determined to find him guilty. Among these men lay the fortunes of Rome, when the departure of their chief left the aristocrats mas- ters of their own destiny. During this time Csesar had been serving his ap- prenticeship as \ soldier. The motley forces which Mithridates had commanded had not all submitted op the king's surrender to Sylla. Squadrons of pirates hung yet about the smaller islands in the ^gean. Lesbos was occupied by adventurers, who were fight- ing for their own hand, and the praetor Minucius Tliermus had been sent to clear the seas and extir- pate these nests of brigands. To Thermus Caesar The Bithyniaii Scandal, 103 had attached himself. The praetor, finding that his fleet was not strong enough for the work, found it necessary to apply to Nicomedes, the allied sovereign of the adjoining kingdom of Bithynia, to supply him with a few additional vessels ; and Csesar, soon after his arrival, was dispatched on this commission to th^ Bithynian court. Long afterwards, when Roman cultivated society had come to hate Csesar, and any scandal was wel- come to them which would make him odious, it was reported that on this occasion he entered into cer- tain relations with Nicomedes of a kind indisputably common at the time in the highest patrician circles. The value of such a charge in political controversy was considerable, for whether true or false it was cer- tain to be believed ; and similar accusations were flung indiscriminately, so Cicero says, at the reputa- tion of every eminent person whom it was desirable to stain, if his personal appearance gave the story any air of probabihty.^ The disposition to believe evil of men who have risen a few degrees above their contemporaries, is a feature of human nature as common as it is base ; and when to envy there are added fear and hatred, malicious anecdotes spring like mushrooms in a for- cing-pit. But gossip is not evidence, nor does it be- come evidence because it is in Latin and has been re- peated through many generations. The strength of a chain is no greater than the strength of its first link, and the adhesive character of calumny proves only that the inclination of average men to believe the worst of great men is the same in all ages. This 1 *' Sunt enitn ista maledicta pervu'gata in omnes, quorum in adolot- centi^ fonna et species fuit libera! is." — Oratio 2>ro Marco Ccelio. 104 Ccesar. particular accusation against Caesar gains, perhaps, a certain credibility from the admission that it was the only occasion on which anything of the kind could be alleged against him. On the other hand, it was unheard of for near a quarter of a century. It was produced in Rome in the midst of a furious political contest. No witnesses were forthcoming, no one who had been at Bithynia at the time, no one who ever pretended to have original knowledge of the truth of the story. Caesar himself passed it by with dis- dain, or alluded to it, if forced upon his notice, with contemptuous disgust. The Bithynian mission was otherwise successful. He brought the ships to Thermus. He distinguished himself personally in the storming of Mitylene, and won the oak wreath, the Victoria Cross of the Ro- man army. Still pursuing the same career, Caesar next accompanied Servilius Isauricus in a campaign against the horde of pirates, afterwards so famous, that was forming itself among the creeks and river- mouths of Cilicia. The advantages which Servilius obtained over them were considerable enough to de- serve a triumph, but were barren of result. The news that Sylla was dead reached the army while still in the field: and the danger of appearing in Rome being over, Caesar at once left Cilicia and went back to his family. Other causes are said to have contributed to hasten his return. A plot had been formed, with the consul Lepidus at its head, to undo Sylla's laws and restore the constitution of the Grac- chi. Caesar had been urged by letter to take part in the movement ; and he may have hurried home, either to examine the prospects of success, or perhapa to prevent an attempt, which, under the circum- Lepidus and Qinna. 105 stances, he might think crhiimal and useless. Lepi- dus was not a wise man, though he may have been an honest one. The aristocracy had not yet proved that they were incapable of reform. It might be that they would digest their lesson after all, and that for a generation to come no more revolutions would bo necessary. Cassar at all events declined to connect himself with this new adventure. He came to Rome, looked at what was going on, and refused to have anything to do with it. The experiment was tried without him. Young Cinna, his brother-in- c^saVU law, joined Lepidus. Together the}^ raised a force in Etruria, and marched on Kome. They made their way into the city, but were met in the Campus Martins by Pompey and the other consul, Catulus, at the head of some of Sylla's old troops ; and an abortive enterprise, which, if it had suc- ceeded, would probably have been mischievous, was ended almost as soon as it began. The two leaders escaped. Cinna joined Sertorius in Spain. Lepidus made his way to Sardinia, where, in the next year, he died, leaving a son to play the game of democracy under more brilliant auspices. Caesar meanwhile felt his way, as Cicero was doing in the law courts, attacking the practical abuses, which the Roman administration was generating everywhere. Cornelius Dolabella had been placed by Sylla in com- mand of Macedonia. His father had been a friend of Saturninus, and had fallen at his side. The son l)ad gone over to the aristocracy, and for this reason was perhaps an object of aversion to the younger Uberals. The Macedonians pursued him, when his government had expired, with a list of grievances of 106 Coesar, the usual kind. Young Csesar took up their cause, and prosecuted him. Dolabella was a favorite of the Senate ; he had been allowed a triumph for his serv- ices, and the aristocracy adopted his cause as their own. The unpractised orator was opposed at the trial by his kinsman, Aurelius Cotta, and the most celebrated pleaders in Rome. To have crossed sworda with such opponents was a dangerous honor for him — success against them was not to be expected, and Csesar was not yet master of his art. Dolabella was acquitted. Party feeling had perhaps entered into the accusation. Caesar found it prudent to retire again from the scene. There were but two roads to eminence in Rome, oratory and service in the army. He had no prospect of public employment from the present administration, and the platform alone was open to him. Plain words with a plain meaning in them no longer carried weight with a people who ex- pected an orator to deliglit as well as instruct them. The use of the tongue had become a special branch of a statesman's education ; and Csesai^ feeling his deficiency, used his leisure to put himself in training, and go to school at Rhodes, with the then celebrated Apollonius Molo. He had recovered his property and his priesthood, and was evidently in no want of money. He travelled with the retinue of a man of rank, and on his way to Rhodes he fell in with an ad- venture which may be something more than legend. When he was crossing the ^gean, his vessel is said to Aiav^e been taken by pirates. They carried him to Pharmacusa,^ an island off the Carian coast, which was then in their possession ; and there he was de- tained for six weeks witli three of his attendants, 1 Now Ferniaco Ocesar and the Pirates, 107 while the rest of his servants were sent to the near- est Roman station to raise his ransom. The pirates treated him with politeness. He joined in their sports, played games with them, looked into their habits, and amused himself with them aa well as he could, frankly telling them at the same time that they would all be hanged. The ransom, a very large one, about 10,000L, was brought and paid. Caesar was set upon the mainland near Miletus, where, without a moment's delay, he collected some armed vessels, returned to the island, seized the whole crew while they were dividing their plunder, and took them away to Pergamus, the seat of government in the Asiatic province, where they were convicted and crucified. Clemency was not a Roman characteristic. It was therefore noted, with some surprise, that Caesar interceded to mitigate the severity of the punishment. The poor wretches were strangled before they were stretched on their crosses, and were spared the prolongation of their torture. The pirate business being disposed of, he resumed his journey to Rhodes, and there he continued for two years practising gesture and expression under the tu- ition of the great master. During this time the government of Rome Avas making progress in again demonstrating its unfitness for the duties which were laid upon it, and sowing the seeds which in a few years were to ripen intf) a harvest so remarkable. Two alternatives only lay before the Roman dominion — either disruption or tlie abolition of the constitution. If the aristocracy could not govern, still less could the mob govern. The Latin race was scattered over the basin of the Med- iterranean, no longer bound by any special ties to 108 Ccesar. Rome or Italy, each man of it individually vigorous and energetic, and bent before all things on iQaking his own fortune. If no tolerable administration was provided from home, their obvious course could only be to identify themselves with local interests and na- tionalities, and make themselves severally indepen- dent, as Sertorius was doing in Spain. Sertorius was at last disposed of, but by methods promising ill for the future. He beat Metellus till Metellus could do no more against him. The all-victorious Pompey was sent at last to win victories and gain nothing by them. Six canipaiOTS led to no result, and B. C. 78-72. . ^ the difficulty was only removed at last by treachery and assassination. A more extraordinary and more disgraceful phe- nomenon was the growth of piracy, witli the skirts of which Csesar had come in contact at Pharmacusa. The Romans had become masters of the world, only that the sea from one end of their dominions to the other should be patrolled by organized rovers. For many years, as Roman commerce extended, the Med- iterranean had become a profitable field of enterprise for these gentry. From every country which they had overrun or occupied the conquests of the Romans had let loose swarms of restless patriots who, if they could not save the liberties of their own countries, could prey upon the oppressor. Illyrians from the Adriatic, Greeks from the islands and the Asiatic ports, Syrians, Egyptians, Africans, Spaniards, Gauls, and disaffected Italians, trained many of them to the sea from their childhood, took to the water in their light galleys with all the world before them. Under most circumstances society is protected against thieves by their inability to combine. But the pirates of the Growth of Piracy, 109 Mediterranean had learnt from the Romans the ad- vantage of union, and had drifted into a vast confed- eration. Cilicia was their head-quarters. Serviliua had checked them for a time ; but the Roman Senate was too eager for a revenue, and the Roman govern- ors and farmers of the taxes were too bent upon fill- ing their private parses, to allow fleets to be main- tained in the provincial harbors adequate to keep the peace. When Servilius retired, the pirates reoccu- pied their old haunts. The Cilician forests furnished them with ship timber. The mountain gorges pro- vided inaccessible storehouses for plunder. Crete was completely in their hands also ; and they had secret friends along the entire Mediterranean shores. They grew at last into a thousand sail, divided into squad- rons, under separate commanders. They were admi- rably armed. Tlie}^ roved over the waters at their pleasure, attacking islands or commercial ports, plun- dering temples and warehouses, arresting every trading vessel they encountered, till at last no Roman could go abroad on business, save during the winter storms, when the sea was comparatively clear. They flaunted their sails in front of Ostia itself ; they landed in their boats at the villas on the Italian coast, carrying off lords and ladies, and holding them to ransom. They levied black-mail at their pleasure. The wretched pi^ovincials had paid their taxes to Rome in exchange for promised defence, and no defence was provided.^ The revenue which ought to have been spent on the protection of the Empire, a few patricians were divid- ing among themselves. The pirates had even marts 1 " VIdebat enim populum Romanum non locupletari quotannis pecimid 3uMic^ praetor paucos : neque eos quidquam aliiid assequi classium nomine, nisi ut, detrimentis accipiendis majore affici turpitudine videreraur." — Cicfcto, Pro Lege Manilia^ 23. 110 Coesar. ill different islands, where their prisoners were sold to the slave-dealers ; and for fifteen years notliing was done or even attempted to put an end to so pre- posterous an enormity. The ease with which these buccaneers of the Old World were eventually sup- pressed proved conclusively that they existed by con- nivance. It was discovered at last that large sums had been sent regularly from Crete to some of tho most distinguished members of the aristocracy. The Senate was again the same body which it was found by Jugurtha, and the present generation were hap- pier than their fathers in that larger and richer fields were now open to their operation. While the pirates were at work on the extremities, the senators in the provinces were working systemat- ically, squeezing the people as one might squeeze a sponge of all the wealth that could be drained out of them. After the failure of Lepidus, the elections in Rome were wholly in the Senate's hands. Such in- dependence as had not been crushed was corrupted. The aristocracy divided the consulships, praetorships, and quasstorships among themselves, and after the year of office the provincial prizes were then distrib- uted. Of the nature of their government a picture has been left by Cicero, himself one of the senatorial party, and certainly not to be suspected of having rep- resented it as worse than it was in the famous prose- cution of Verres. There is nothing to show that Verres was worse than the rest of his order. Piso, Gabinius, and many others equalled, or perhaps ex- celled, him in villainy. But historical fate required a victim, and the unfortunate wretch has been selected out of the crowd individually to illustrate his class. By family he was connected with SylJa. His father Provincial Administration. ill was noted as an election manager at the Comitia. The son had been attached to Carbo when the demo- crats were in power, but he had deserted them on Sylla's return. He had m'ade himself useful in the proscriptions, and had scraped together a considerable fortune. He was employed afterwards in Greece and Asia, where he distinguished himself by fresh rapac- ity, and by the gross brutality with which he abused an innocent lady. With the wealth which he had extorted or stolen he bought his way iiito the praetor- ship, probably with his father's help ; he then became a senator, and was sent to govern Sicily — a place which had already suffered, so the Senate said, from the malpractices of Lepidus, and needing, therefore, to be generously dealt with. Verres held his province for three years. He was supreme judge in all civil and criminal cases. He negotiated with the parties to every suit which was brought before him, and then sold his decisions. He confiscated estates on fictitious accusations. The isl- and was rich in works of art. Verres had a taste for such things, and seized without scruple the finest pro- ductions of Praxiteles or Zeuxis. If those who were 'wronged dared to complain, they were sent to forced labor at the quarries, or, as dead men tell no tales, were put out of the world. He had an understand- ing with the pirates, which throws light upon the secret of their impunity. A shipful of them were brought into Messina as prisoners, and were sentenced to be executed. A handsome bribe was paid to Ver- res, and a number of Sicilians whom he wished out of the way were brought out, veiled and gagged, that they might not be recognized, and were hanged as the pirates' substitutes. By Ihese methods Verres 112 Coesar. was accused of having gathered out of Sicily three quarters of a million of our money. Two thirds he calculated on having to spend in corrupting the con- Buls, and the court before 'which he might be prose- cuted. The rest he would be able to save, and with the help of it to follow his career of greatness through the highest offices of State. Thus he had gone on upon his way, secure, as he supposed, of impunity. One of the consuls for the year and the consuls for the year which was to come next were pledged to support him. The judges would be exclusively sena- tors, each of whom might require assistance in a simi- lar situation. The chance of justice on these occa- sions was so desperate that the provincials preferred usually to bear their wrongs in silence rather than expose themselves to expense and danger for almost certain failure. But, as Cicero said, the whole world inside the ocean was ringing with the infamy of the Roman senatorial tribunals. ^ Cicero, whose honest wish was to save the Senate from itself, determined to make use of Verres' con- duct to shame the courts into honesty. Every diffi- culty was thrown in his way. He went in person to Sicily to procure evidence. He was browbeaten and threatened with violence. The witnesses were in- timidated, and in some instances were murdered. The technical ingenuities of Roman law were ex- hausted to shield the culprit. The accident that the second consul had a conscience alone enabled Cicero to force the criminal to the bar. But the picture which Cicero drew and laid before the people, proved as it was to every detail, and admitting of no an- swer save that other governors had been equally iniquitous and had escaped unpimished, created a Rome under Sylla's Constitution. 113 Btorm which the Senate dared not encounter. Verrea dropped his defence, and fled, and part of his spoils was recovered. There was no shame in the aristoc- racy to prevent them from committing crimes : there was enough to make them abandon a comrade who was so unfortunate as to be detected and brought to justice. This was the state of the Roman dominion under the constitution as reformed by Sylla : the Spanish Peninsula recovered by murder to temporary submis- sion ; the sea abandoned to buccaneers ; decent indus- trious people in the provinces given over to have their fortunes stolen from them, their daughters dishon- ored, and themselves beaten or killed if they com- plained, by a set of wolves calling themselves Roman senators — and these scenes not localized to any one unhappy district, but extending through the entire civilized part of mankind. There was no hope for these unhappy people, for they were under the tyr- anny of a dead hand. A bad king is like a bad sea- son. The next may bi-ing improvement, or, if his rule is wholly intolerable, he can be deposed. Under a bad constitution no such change is possible. It can be ended only by a revolution. Republican Rome had become an Imperial State — she had taken upon herself the guardianship of every country in the world where the human race was industrious and pros- perous, and she was discharging her great trust by sacrificing them to the luxury and ambition of a few hundred scandalous politicians. The nature of man is so constructed that a con- stitution so administered must collapse. It generates faction within, it invites enemies from without. While Sertorius was defying the Senate in Spain, and 114 Ccesar. the pirates were buying its connivance in tlie Med- iterranean, Mithridates started into life again in Pon- tus. Sylla had beaten him into submission ; but Sylla was gone, and no one was left to take Sylla's place The watchful barbarian had his correspond- ents in Rome, and knew everything that was pass- ing there. He saw that he had little to fear by try- ing the issue with the Romans once more. He made himself master of Armenia. In the corsair fleet he had an ally ready made. The Roman province in Asia Minor, driven to despair by the villainy of its governors, was ripe for revolt. Mithridates rose, and but for the young Caesar would a second time have driven the Romans out of Asia. Caesar, in tlie midst of his rhetorical studies at Rhodes, heard the mut- terings of the coming storm. Deserting ApoUonius's lecture-room, he crossed over to the continent, raised a corps of volunteers, and held Caria to its allegiance ; but Mithridates possessed himself easily of the inte- rior kingdoms, and of the whole valley of the Eu- phrates to the Persian Gulf. The Black Sea was again covered with his ships. He defeated Cotta in a na- val battle, drove him through the Bosphorus, and de- stroyed the Roman squadron. The Senate exerted it- self at last. Lucullus, Sylla's friend, the only mod- erately able man that the aristocracy had B. G 74. among them, was sent to encounter him. Lucullus had been trained in a good school, and the superiority of the drilled Roman legions when toler- ably led again easily asserted itself. Mithridates was forced back into the Armenian hills. The Black Sea was swept clear, and eight thousand of the buccaneers were killed at Sinope. Lucullus pursued the retreat- ing prince across the Euphrates, won victories, took Lucullu8. llfl cities and pillaged them. He reached Lake Van, he marched round Mount Ararat, and advanced to Ar- taxata. But Asia was a scene of dangerous tempta- tion for a Roman commander. Cicero, though ho did not name Lucullus, was transparently alluding to him when he told the assembly in the Forum that Rome had made herself abhorred throughout the world by the violence and avarice of her generals. No temple had been so sacred, no city so venerable, no houses so well protected, as to be secure from their voracity. Occasions of war had been caught at with rich communities, where plunder was the only object. The proconsuls could win battles, but they could not keep their hands from off the treasures of their allies and subjects.^ Lucullus was splendid in his rapacity, and amidst his victories he had amassed the largest fortune which had yet belonged to patrician or commoner, except Crassus. Nothing came amiss to him. He had sold the commissions in his army. He had taken money out of the treasury for the expenses of the campaign. Part he had spent in bribing the admin- istration to prolong his command beyond the usual time ; the rest he had left in the city to accumulate for himself at interest.^ He lived on the plunder of 1 " Difficile est dictu, Qiiirites, quanto in odio simus apud exteras na- tiones, propter eorum, qiios ad eas per hos annos cum imperio misimus, injurias ac libidines. Quod enim fanum putatis in illis terris nostris mag- istratibus religiosum, quam civitatem sanctam, quam domura satis clau- eam ac munitam fuisse? Urbes jam locupletes ac copiosae requiruntur, quibus causa belli propter diripiendi cupiditatem inferatur Quare etiamsi quem habetis, qui collatis signis exercitus regios superare posse vi- deatur, tamen, nisi erit idem, qui se a pecuniis sociorum, qui ab eorum conjugibus ac liberis, qui ab ornamentis fanorum atque oppidorum, qui ab auro gazaque regia manus, oculos, animum cohibere possit, non erit Idoueus, qui ad bellum Asiaticum regiumque mittatur." — Pro Lege Ma- nilid, 22, 23. 2 "Quem possumus imperatorem aliquo in numero putare, cujus in ex- IIP CoBsar, friend and foe ; and the defeat of Mithridates waa never more than a second object to him. The one steady purpose in which he never varied was to pile up gold and jewels. An army so organized and so employed soon loses efficiency and coherence. The legions, perhaps con- sidering that they were not allowed a fair share of the spoil, mutinied. The disaffection was headed by young Publius Clodius, whose sister Lncullns had married. The campaign which had opened brilliantly ended ignominiously. The Romans had to fall back behind Pontus, closely pursued by Mithridates. Lu- cuUus stood on the defensive till he was recalled, and he then returned to Rome to lounge away the re- mainder of his days in voluptuous magnificence. While Lucullus was making his fortune in the East, a spurt of insurrectionary fire had broken out in Italy. The Agrarian laws and Sylla's proscrip- tions and confiscations had restored the numbers of the small proprietors, but the statesmen who had been so eager for their reinstatement were fighting against tendencies too strong for them. Life on the farm, like life in the city, was growing yearly more extravagant.^ The small peasants fell into debt. Sylla's soldiers were expensive, and became embar- ercitu veneaiit centuriatus atque venierint ? Quid hunc hominem magnnra aut amplum de republica cogitare, qui pecuniam ex aerario depromtam ad bellum administrandum, aut propter cupiditatem provinciaB raagistratibus diviserit aut propter avaritiam Romae in quaestu reliquerit ? Vestra ad- murmuratio facit, Quirites, ut agnoscere videamini qui haec fecerint: ego autem neminem nomino." — Pro Lege Manilid, 13. 1 Varro mentions curious instances of the change in country manners. He makes an old man say that when he was a boy a farmer's wife useJ to be content with a jaunt in a cart once or twice a year, the farmer noi taking out the covered wagon (the more luxurious vehicle) at all unless he plezised. The farmer used to shave only once a week, etc. — M. Ter. Varronis Reliquice^ od. Alexander Riese, pp. 139, 140. The CfladiatoTS. 117 rassed. Thus the small properties artificially rees- tablished were falling rapidly again into the market. The great land-owners bought them up, and Italy was once more lapsing to territorial magnates cultivating their estates by slaves. Vast gangs of slave laborers were thus still dis- persed over the Peninsula, while others in large num- bers were purchased and trained for the amusement of the metropolis. Society in Rome, enervated as it was by vicious pleasures, craved continually for new excitements. Sensuality is a near relation of cruelty ; and the more savage the entertainments, the more delightful they were to the curled and scented patri- cians who had lost the taste for finer enjoyments. Combats of wild beasts were at first sufl&cient for them, but to see men kill each other gave a keener delight ; and out of the thousands of youths who were sent over annually by the provincial governors, or were purchased from the pirates by the slave-dealers, the most promising were selected for the arena. Each great noble had his training establishment of gladiators, and was as vain of their prowess as of his race-horses. The schools of Capua were the most celebrated ; and nothing so recommended a candidate for the consulship to the electors as the production of a few pairs of Capuan swordsmen in the circus. These young men had hitherto performed their duties with more submissiveness than might have been expected, and had slaughtered one another in the most approved methods. But the horse knows by the hand on his rein whether he has a fool for his rider. The gladiators in the schools and the slaves on the plantations could not be kept wholly ignorant of the character of their rulers. They were aware that the ll 118 Cmar. ^ seas were held by their friends, the pirates, and that their masters were again being beaten out of Asia, from which many of themselves had been carried off. They began to ask themselves why men who could use their swords should be slaves when their com- rades and kindred were up and fighting for freedom. They found a leader in a young Thracian robber chief, named Spartacus, who was destined for the amphitheatre, and who preferred meeting his masters in the field to killing his friends to make a Roman holiday. Spartacus, with two hundred of his com- panions, burst out from the Capuan '' stable," seized their arms, and made their way into the crater of Vesuvius, which was then, after the long sleep of the volcano, a dense jungle of wild vines. The slaves from the adjoining plantations deserted and joined them. The lire spread, Spartacus proclaimed uni- versal emancipation, and in a few weeks was at the head of an army with which he overran Italy to the foot of the Alps, defeated consuls and prse- ''""'* tors, captured the eagles of the legions, wasted the farms of the noble lords, and for two years held his ground against all that Rome could do. Of all the illustrations of the Senate's incapacity, the slave insurrection was perhaps the worst. It was put down at last after desperate exertions by Crassus and Pompey. Spartacus was killed, and six thousand of his followers were impaled at various points on the sides of the high roads, that the slaves might have before their eyes examples of the effect of disobe- dience. The immediate peril was over ; but another symptom had appeared of the social disease which would soon end in death, unless some remedy could be found. The nation was still strong. There was A Political Dilemma. 119 ' j \ power and worth in the undegenerate Italian race, j which needed only to be organized and ruled. But \ what remedy was possible ? The practical choice of \ politicians lay between the Senate and the democ- I racy. Both were alike bloody and unscrupulous; \ and the rule of the Senate meant corruption and im- \ becility, and the rule of the democracy meant au- \ archy. 1 j 1 CHAPTER X. C^JSAB, having done his small piece of indepen- dent service in Caria, and having finished his course with Appolonius, now came again to Rome, and re- entered practical life. He lived with his wife and his mother Aurelm in a modest house, attracting no par- ticular notice, put his defiance of Sylla, his prosecu- tion of Dolabella, and his known political sympathies, made him early a favorite with the people. The growing disorders at home and abroad, with the ex- posures on the trial of Verres, were weakening daily the influence of the Senate. Csesar was elected mil- itary tribune as a reward for his services in Asia, and he assisted in recovering part of the privileges so dear to the citizens which Sylla had taken from the trib- unes of the people. They were again enabled to call the assembly together, and though they were still un- able to propose laws without the Senate's sanction, yet they regained the privilege of consulting directly with the nation on public affairs. Csesar now spoke well enough to command the admiration of even Cic- ero — without ornament, but directly to the purpose. Among the first uses to which he addressed his influ- ence was to obtain the pardon of his brother-in-law, the younger Cinna, who had been exiled since the failure^' of the attempt of Lepidus. In B. C. 68, being then thirty-two, he gained his first step on the ladder 3f high office. He was made quaestor, which gave him a place in the Senate. Co7inection with Pompey. 121 Soon after his election, his aunt Julia, the widow of Marius, died. It was usual on the death of emi- nent persons for a near relation to make an oration at the funeral. Csesar spoke on this occasion. It was observed that he dwelt with some pride on the lady's ancestry, descending on one side from the gods, on another from the kings of Rome. More noticeably he introduced into the burial procession the insignia and images of Marius himself, whose name for some years it had been unsafe to mention.^ Pompey, after Sertorius's death, had pacified Spain. He had assisted Orassus in extinguishing Spartacus. The Senate had employed him, but had never liked him or trusted him. The Senate, however, was no longer omnipotent, and in the year 70 he and Crassus had been consuls. Pompey was no politician, but he was honorable and straightforward. Like every true Roman, he was awake to the dangers and disgrace of the existing maladministration, and he and Caesar be- gan to know each other, and to find their interest in working together. Pompey was the elder of the two by six years. He was already a great man, covered with distinctions, and perhaps he supposed that he was finding in Csesar a useful subordinate. Caesar naturally liked Pompey, as a really distinguished sol- dier and an upright, disinterested man. They became connected by marriage. Cornelia dying, Ceesar took for his second wife Pompey's cousin, Pompeia ; and, no doubt at Pompey's instance, he was sent into Spain to complete Pompey's work and settle the finances of that distracted country. His reputation as belonging to the party of Marius and Sertorius se- ^ Th3 name of Marius, it is to be observed, remained so popular in Rome that Cicero after this always spoke of him with respect. 122 Cmar. cured him the confidence of Sertorius's friends. He accomplished his mission completely and easily. On his way back he passed through Northern Italy, and took occasion to say there that he considered the time to have come for the franchise, which now stopped at the Po, to be extended to the foot of the Alps. The consulship of Pompey and Crassus had brought many changes with it, all tending in the same direc- tion. The tribunes were restored to their old func- tions, the censorship was reestablished, and the Sen- ate was at once weeded of many of its disreputable members. Cicero, conservative as he was, had looked upon these measures if not approvingly yet without active opposition. To another change he had himself contributed by his speeches on the Verres prosecution. The exclusive judicial powers which the Senate had abused so scandalously were again taken from them. The courts of the Equites were remembered in con- trast, and a law was passed that for the future the courts were to be composed two thirds of knights and one third only of senators. Cicero's hope of resisting democracy lay in the fusion of the great commoners with the Senate. It was no longer possible for the aristocracy to rule alone. The few Equites who, since Sylla's time, had made their way into the Sen- ate had yielded to patrician ascendency. Cicero aimed at a reunion of the orders ; and the consulship of Crassus, little as Cicero liked Crassus personally, was a sign of a growing tendency in this direction. At all costs the knights must be prevented from iden- tifying themselves with the democrats, and therefore all possible compliments and all possible concessions to their interests were made to them. They recovered their position in the law courts The Pirates. 123 and, which was of more importance to them, the sys- tem of farming the taxes, in which so many of then) had made their fortunes, and which Sylla had abol- ished, was once again reverted to. It was not a good system, but it was better than a state of things in which little of the revenue had reached the public treasury at all, but had been intercepted and par- celled out among the oligarchy. With recovered vitality a keener apprehension be- gan to be felt of the pirate scandal. The buccaneers, encouraged by the Senate's connivance, were more daring than ever. They had become a sea community, led by high-born adventurers, who maintained out of their plunder a show of wild magnificence. The oars of the galleys of their commanders were plated with silver; their cabins were hung with gorgeous tapestry. They had bands of music to play at their triumphs. They had a religion of their own, an ori- ental medley called the Mysteries of Mithras. They had captured and pillaged four hundred considerable towns, and had spoiled the temples of the Grecian gods. They had maintained and extended their d^p8ts where they disposed of their prisoners to the slave-dealers. Roman citizens who could not ransom themselves, and could not conveniently be sold, were informed that they might go where they pleased ; they were led to a plank projecting over some ves- sel's side, and were bidden depart — into the sea. Not contented with insulting Ostia by their presence outside, they had ventured into the harbor itself, and bad burnt the ships there. They held complete pos- session of the Italian waters. Rome, depending on Sicily, and Sardinia, and Africa, for her supplies of •;orn, was starving for want of food ; and the foreign 124 Ccesar, trade on which so many of the middle classes were engaged was totally destroyed. The return of the commoners to power was a signal for an active move- ment to put an end to the disgrace. No one ques- tioned that it could be done if there was a will to do it. But the work could be accomplished only by persons who would be proof against corruption. There was but one man in high position who could be trusted, and that was Pompey. The general to be selected must have unrestricted and therefore un- constitutional authority. But Pompey was at once capable and honest. Pompey could not be bribed by the pirates, and Pompey could be depended on not to abuse his opportunities to the prejudice of the Commonwealth. The natural course, therefore, would have been to declare Pompey Dictator ; but Sylla had made the name unpopular ; the right to appoint a Dictator lay with the Senate, with whom Pompey had never been a favorite, and the aristocracy had disliked and feared him more than ever since his consulship. From that quarter no help was to be looked for, and a method was devised to give him the reality of power without the title. Unity of command was the one essential — command untrammelled by orders from commit- tees of weak and treacherous noblemen, who cared only for the interest of their class. The established forms were scrupulously observed, and the plan de- signed was brought forward first, according to rule, in the Senate. A tribune, Aulus Gabinius, intro- duced a proposition there that one person of consular rank should have absolute jurisdiction, during three years, over the whole Mediterranean, and over all Roman territory for fifty miles inland from the coast. The Crabinian Law 125 that the money in the treasury should be at his dis- position ; that he should have power to raise 500 ships of war and to collect and organize 130,000 men. No such command for such a time had ever been com- mitted to any one man since the abolition of the mon- archy. It was equivalent to a suspension of the Sen- ate itself, and of all constitutional government. The proposal was received with a burst of fury. Every one knew that the person intended was Pompey. The decorum of the old days was forgotten. The noble lords started from their seats, flew at Gabinius, and almost strangled him : but he had friends out- side the house ready to defend their champion ; the country people had flocked in for the occasion ; the city was thronged with multitudes for such as had not been seen there since the days of the Gracchi. The tribune freed himself from the hands that vs^ere at his throat ; he rushed out into the Forum, closely pursued by the consul Piso, vrho would have been torn in pieces in turn, had not Gabinius interposed to save him. Senate or no Senate, it was decided that Gabinius's proposition should be submitted to the as- sembly, and the aristocrats were driven to their old remedy of bribing other members of the college of tribunes to interfere. Two renegades were thus se- cured : and when the voting day came, Trebellius, who was one of them, put in a veto ; the other, Ros- cius, said that the power intended for Pompey was too considerable to be trusted to a single person, and proposed two commanders instead of one. The mob was packed so thick that the house-tops were cov- ered. A yell rose from tens of thousands of throats KO piercing that it was said a crow flying over the Forum dropped dead at the sound of it. The old 126 Omar. patrician Catulus tried to speak, but the people would not hear him. The vote passed by acclamation, and Pompey was for three years sovereign of the Ro- man world. It now appeared how strong the Romans were when a fair chance was allowed them. Pompey had 310 extraordinary talents, but not in three years, but in three months, the pirates were extinguished. He divided the Mediterranean into thirteen districts, and allotted a squadron to each, under officers on whom he could thoroughly rely. Ships and seamen were found in abundance lying idle from the suspension of trade. In forty days he had cleared the seas between Gibraltar and Italy. He had captured entire corsair fleets, and had sent the rest flying into the Cilician creeks. There, in defence of their plunder and their families, they fought one desperate engagement, and when defeated, they surrendered without a further blow. Of real strength they had possessed none from the first. They had subsisted only through the guilty complicity of the Roman authorities, and they fell at the first stroke which was aimed at them in earnest. Thirteen hundred pirate ships were burnt. Their docks and arsenals were destroyed, and their fortresses were razed. Twenty-two thousand prison- ers fell into the hands of Pompey. To the astonish- ment of mankind, Pompey neither impaled them, as the Senate had impaled the followers of Spartacus, nor even sold them for slaves. He was contented to scatter them among inland colonies, where they could no longer be dangerous. The suppression of the buccaneers was really a brilliant piece of work, and the ease with which it was accomplished brought fresh disgrace on the Sen- The Manilian Law, 127 ate and fresh glory on the hero of the houi Cicero, with his thoughts fixed on saving the constitution, considered that Pompey might be the man to save it; or, at all events, that it would be unsafe to leave him to I'he democrats who had given him power and were triumphing in his success. On political grounds Cicero thought that Pompey ought to be recognized by the moderate party which he intended to form ; and a person like himself who hoped to rise by the popular votes could not otherwise afford to seem cold amidst the universal enthusiasm. The pirates were abolished. Mithridates was still undisposed of. Lu- cullus, the hope of the aristocracy, was lying helpless within the Roman frontier, with a disorganized and mutinous army. His victories were forgotten. He was regarded as the impersonation of every fault which had made the rule of the Senate so hateful. Pompey, the people's general, after a splendid suc- cess, had come home with clean hands ; Lucullus liad sacrificed his country to his avarice. The contrast set off his failures in colors perhaps darker than really belonged to them, and the cry naturally rose that Lucullus must be called back, and the all-victorious Pompey must be sent for the reconquest of Asia. Another tribune, Manilius, brought the question for- ward, this time directly before the assembly, the Senate's consent not being any more asked for. Caesar again brought his influence to bear on Pom- pey's side ; but Csosar found support in a quarter where it might not have been looked for. The Sen- ate was furious as before, but by far the most gifted person in the conservative party now openly turned against them. Cicero was prsetor this year, and waa thus himself a senator, A seat in the Senate had 128 Ccesar. been the supreme object of bis ambition. He was vain of the honor which he had won, and delighted with the high company into which he had been re- ceived ; but lie was too shrewd to go along with them upon a road which could lead only to their overthrow ; and for their own sake, and for the sake of the insti- tution itself of which he meant to be an illustrious ornament, he not only supported the Manilian propo- sition, but supported it in a speech more effective than the wildest outpourings of democratic rhetoric. Asia Minor, he said, was of all the Roman prov- inces the most important, because it was the most wealthy.^ So rich it was and fertile that, for the productiveness of its soil, the variety of its fruits, the extent of its pastures, and the multitude of its ex- ports, there was no country in the world to be com- pared with it ; yet Asia was in danger of being ut- terly lost through the worthlessness of the governors and military commanders charged with the care of it. " Who does not know," Cicero asked, " that the avarice of our generals has been the cause of the misfortunes of our armies ? You can see for your- selves how they act here at home in Italy ; and what will they not venture far away in distant countries ? Officers who cannot restrain their own appetites, can never maintain discipline in their troops. Pompey has been victorious because he does not loiter about the towns for plunder or pleasure, or making collec- tions of statues and pictures. Asia is a land of temp- tations. Send no one thither who cannot resist gold 1 "Asia Tero tarn opima est et fertilis, ut et ubertate agrorum et van* tate friictuum et magnitudine pastionis, et raultitiuiine earum reriiin, quai exportentur, facile omnibus terris antecellat." — Pro Lege Manilid. Cic- ero's expressions are worth notice at a time when Asia IMinor has becouu v)f importance tc England. Cicero^s Speech. 129 and jewels and shrines and pretty women. Pom- pey is upright and pure-sighted. Pompey knows that the State has been impoverished because the rev- enue flows into the coffers of a few individuals. Our fleets and armies have availed only to bring the more disgrace upon us through our defeats and losses." ^ After passing a deserved panegyric on the suppres- sion of the pirates, Cicero urged with all the power of his oratory that Manilius's measures should be adopted, and that the same general who had done so well already should be sent against Mithridates. This was perhaps the only occasion on which Cicero ever addressed the assembly in favor of the proposals of a popular tribune. Well would it have been for him and well for Rome if he could have held on upon a course into which he had been led by real patriot- ism. He was now in his proper place, where his bet- ter mind must have told him that he ought to have continued, working by the side of Caesar and Pom- pey. It was observed that more than once in his speech he mentioned with high honor the name of Marius. He appeared to have seen clearly that the Senate was bringing the State to perdition ; and that unless the Republic was to end in dissolution, or in mob rule and despotism, the wise course was to recog- nize the legitimate tendencies of popular sentiment, and to lend the constant weight of his authority to those who were acting in harmony with it. But Cic- ero could never wholly forget his own consequence, or bring himself to persist in any policy where he could play but a secondary part. The Manilian law was carried. In addition to his present extraordinary command, Pompey was in- 5 Pro Lege Manilid, abridged. 9 130 Ccesar. trusted with the conduct of the war in Asia, and he was left unfettered to act at his own discretion. He crossed the Bosphorus with fifty thousand men ; he invaded Pontus ; he inflicted a decisive defeat on Mithridates, and broke up his army ; he drove the Armenians back into their own mountains, and ex- torted out of them a heavy war indemnity. The barbarian king who had so long defied the Roman power was beaten down at last, and fled across the Black Sea to Kertch, where his sons turned against him. He was sixty-eight years old, and could not wait till the wheel should make another turn. Bro- ken down at last, he took leave of a world in which for him there was no longer a place. His women poi- soned themselves successfully. He, too fortified by antidotes to end as they ended, sought a surer death, and fell like Saul by the sword of a slave. Rome had put out her real strength, and at once, as before, all opposition went down before her. Asia was com- pletely conquered, up to the line of the Euphrates. The Black Sea was held securely by a Roman fleet. Pompey passed down into Syria. Antioch surren- dered without resistance. Tyre and Damascus fol- lowed. Jerusalem was taken by storm, and the Ro- man general entered the Holy of Holies. Of all the countries bordering on the Mediterranean, Egypt only was left independent, and of all the islands only Cyprus. A triumphal inscription in Rome declared ihat Pompey, the people's general, had in three years captured fifteen hundred cities, and had slain, taken, or reduced to submission, twelve million human be- ings. He justified what Cicero had foretold of hia moral uprightness. In the midst of opportunities guch as had fallen to no commander since Alexander, Pompey in Asia. 131 he outraged no woman's honor, and he kept his hands clean from " the accursed thing." When he returned to Rome, he returned, as he went, personally poor^ but he filled the treasury to overflowing. His cam- paign was not a marauding raid, like the march of JjU« cullus on Artaxata. His conquests were permanent. The, East, which was then thickly inhabited by an in- dustrious civilized Grseco-Oriental race, be- came incorporated in the Roman dominion, and the annual revenue of the State rose to twice what it had been. Pompey's success had been daz- zlingly rapid. Envy and hatred, as he well knew, were waiting for him at home; and he was in no baste to present himself there. He lingered in Asia, organ- izing the administration, and consolidating his work ; while at Rome the constitution was rushing on upon its old courses among the broken waters, with the roar of the not distant cataract growing every nao ment louder. CHAPTER XL Among the patricians who were rising through the lower magistracies and were aspiring to the consul- ship was Lucius Sergius Catiline. Catiline, now in middle life, had when young been a fervent admirer of Sylla, and, as has been already said, had been an active agent in the proscription. He had murdered his brother-in-law, and perhaps his brother, under political pretences. In an age when licentiousness of the grossest kind was too common to attract at- tention, Catiline had achieved a notoriety for infamy. He had intrigued with a Vestal virgin, the sister of Cicero's wife, Terentia, If Cicero is to be believed, he had made away with his own wife, that he might marry Aurelia Orestilla, a woman as wicked as she was beautiful, and he had killed his child also be- cause Aurelia had objected to be incumbered with a step-son. But this, too, was common in high society in those days. Adultery and incest had become fa- jniliar excitements. Boys of ten years old had learnt the art of poisoning their fathers,^ and the story of Aurelia Orestilla and Catiline had been rehearsed a few years before by Sassia and Oppianicus at Larino.^ Other enormities Catiline had been guilty of, which Cicero declined to mention, lest he should show too openly what crimes might go unpunished under the J ** Nunc quis patrem decern annoriim natus non modo aufert sed tollU ttlsi venenoV " — Vai-ronis Fragmenta^ ed. Alexander Riese, p. 216. 2 See the story in Cicero, Pro Cluentio. Catiline. 133 senatorial administration. But villainy, however no- torious, did not interfere with advancement in the public service. Catiline was adroit, bold, and even captivating. He made his way into high oflB.ce along the usual gradations. He was praetor in B. 0. 68. Ha went as governor to Africa in the year follow- ing, and he returned with money enough, as he rea- sonably hoped, to purchase the last step to the con- sulship. He was impeached when he came back for extortion and oppression, under one of the many laws which were made to be laughed at. Till his trial was over he was disqualified from presenting himself as a candidate, and the election for the year 65 was carried by Autronius Psetus and Cornelius Sylla. Two other patricians, Aurelius Cotta and Manlius Torquatus, had stood against them. The successful competitors were unseated for bribery ; Cotta and Torquatus took their places ; and, appar- ently as a natural resource in the existing contempt into which the constitution had fallen, the disap- pointed candidates formed a plot to kill their rivals and their rivals' friends in the Senate, and to make a revolution. Cneius Piso, a young nobleman of the bluest blood, joined in the conspiracy. Catiline threw himself into it as his natural element, and aristocratic tradition said in later years that Caesar and Crassus were implicated also. Some desperate scheme there certainly was, but the accounts of it are confused: one authority says that it failed because Catiline gave the signal prematurely ; others that Caesar was to have given the signal, and did not do it ; others that Crassus's heart failed him ; others that the consuls had secret notice given to them and took precau- tions, Cicero, who was in Rome at the time, de- 134 Coesar. clares that he never heard of the conspiracy.^ When evidence is inconckisive, probability becomes argu- ment. Nothing can be less likely than that a cau- tious capitalist of vast wealth like Crassus should have connected himself with a party of dissolute ad- venturers. Had Cassar committed himself, jealously watched as he was by the aristocrats, some proofs of his complicity would have been forthcoming. The aristocracy under the empire revenged themselves for their ruin by charging Caesar with a share in every combination that had been formed against them, from Sylla's time downwards. Be the truth what it may, nothing came of this project. Piso went to Spain, where he was killed. The prosecution of Catiline for his African misgovernment was continued, and, strange to say, Cicero undertook his defence. He was under no uncertainty as to Catiline's general character, or his particular guilt in the charge brought against him. It was plain as the sun at midday .^ But Cicero was about to stand himself for the consul- ship, the object of his most passionate de- sire. He had several competitors ; and as he thought well of Catiline's prospects, he intended to coalesce with him.^ Catiline was acquitted, ap- parently through a special selection of the judges, with the connivance of the prosecutor. The canvass was violent, and the corruption flagrant.^ Cicero did 1 Pro P. Sulla, 4. 2 " Catilina, si judicatum erit, meridie non lucere, certus erit competi- tor." — Epist. ad Atticum, i. 1. 3 "Hoc tempore Catilinam, competitorem nostrum, defendere cogita- mus. Judices habemus, quos volumus, summa accusatoris voluntate. Spero, si absolutus erit, coiijunctiorem ilium nobis fore in ratione peti. tionis."— /^>. i. 2. * " Sclto nihil tam exerc'tum nunc esse Romaeqr.am candidatos omnibus Iniquitatibus." — lb. i. 11. Catiline and Cicero. 135 not bribe himself, but if Catiline's voters would give him a help, he was not so scrupulous as to be above taking advantage of it. Catiline's humor or the cii^ cumstances of the time provided him with a more lionorable support. He required a more manageable colleague than he could have found in Cicero. Among the candidates was one of Sylla's officers, Caius An- tonius, the uncle of Marc Antony, the triumvir. This Antonius had been prosecuted by Csesar for ill-usage of the Macedonians. He had been expelled by the censors from the Senate for general worthlessness ; but public disgrace seems to have had no effect what- ever on the chances of a candidate for the consulship in this singular age. Antonius was weak and vicious, and Catiline could mould him as he pleased. He had made himself popular by his profusion when aedile in providing shows for the mob. The feeling against the Senate was so bitter that the aristocracy had no chance of carrying a candidate of their own, and the competition was reduced at last to Catiline, Antonius, and Cicero. Antonius was certain of his election, and the contest lay between Catiline and Cicero. Each of them tried to gain the support of Antonius and his friends. Catiline promised Anto- nius a revolution, in which they were to share the world between them. Cicero promised his influence io obtain some lucrative province for Antonius to misgovern. Catiline would probably have succeeded; when the aristocracy, knowing what to expect if so scandalous a pair came into office, threw their weight on Cicero's side, and turned the scale. Cicero was liked among the people for his prosecution of Verres, for his support of the Manilian law, and for the bold- ness with which he had exposed patrician delinqueu 136 Coesar. cies. With the Senate for him also, he was returned at the head of the poll. The proud Roman nobility had selected a self-made lawyer as their representa- tive. Cicero was consul, and Antonius with him. Catiline had failed. It was the turning-point of Cic- ero's life. Before his consulship he had not irrevo- cably taken a side. No public speaker had more elo- quently shown the necessity for reform ; no one had denounced with keener sarcasm the infamies and fol- lies of senatorial favorites. Conscience and patriot- ism should have alike held him to the reforming party; and political instinct, if vanity had left him the use of his perception, would have led him in the same direction. Possibly before he received the votes of the patricians and their clients, he had bound him- self with certain engagements to them. Possibly he held the Senate's intellect cheap, and saw the position which he could arrive at among the aristocracy if he offered them his services. The strongest intellect was with the reformers, and first on that side he could never be. First among the Conservatives ^ he could easily be ; and he might prefer being at the head of a party which at lieart he despised to work- ing at the side of persons who must stand inevitably above him. We may regret that gifted men should be influenced by personal considerations, but under party government it is a fact that they are so influ- enced, and will be as long as it continues. Csesar and Pompey were soldiers. The army was demo- cratic, and the triumph of the democracy meant the rule of a popular general. Cicero was a civilian, and a man of speech. In the Forum and in the Curia he knew that he could reign supreme. ^ I use a w")rd apparently modern, but Cicero himself gave tiie name of Conservatores Reipublicae to the party to which he belonged. Ccesar elected ^dile, 137 Cicero had thus reached the highest step in the scale of promotion by trimming between the rival factions. Caesar was rising simultaneously behind him on lines of his own. In the year B. c. 65 he had been aedile, having for his colleague Bibulus, hia future companion on the successive grades of ascent. Bibulus was a rich plebeian, whose delight in office was the introduction which it gave him into the so- ciety of the great ; and in his politics he outdid hia aristocratic patrons. The sediles had charge of the public buildings and the games and exhibitions in the capital. The a^dileship was a magistracy through which it was ordinarily necessary to pass in order to reach the consulship ; and as the aediles were ex- pected to bear their own expenses, the consulship was thus restricted to those who could afford an extrava- gant outlay. They were expected to decorate the city with new ornaments, and to entertain the people with magnificent spectacles. If they fell short of public expectation, they need look no further for the suffrages of their many-headed master. Cicero had slipped through the sedileship, without ruin to him- self. He was a self-raised man, known to be de- pendent upon his own exertions, and liked from the willingness with which he gave his help to accused persons on their trials. Thus no great demands had been made upon him. Caesar, either more ambitious or less confident in his services, raised a new ai.d costly row of columns in front of the Capitol. He built a temple to the Dioscuri, and he charmed the populace with a show of gladiators unusually exten- sive. Personally he cared nothing for these san- guinary exhibitions, and he displayed his indifference ostentatiously by reading or writing while the butch- 138 Omar. ery was going forward.^ But he required the favor of the multitude, and then, as always, took the road which led most directly to his end. The noble lords watched him suspiciously, and their uneasiness was not diminished when, not content with having pro- duced the insignia of Marius at his aunt's funeral, he restored the trophies for the victories over the Cin^• bri and Teutons, which had been removed by Sylla. The name of Marius was growing every day more dear to the popular party. They forgave, if they had ever resented, his cruelties. His veterans who had fought with him through his campaigns came forward in tears to salute the honored relics of their once glorious commander. As he felt the ground stronger under his feet, Caesar now began to assume an attitude more per- emptorily marked. He had won a reputation in the Forum ; he had spoken in the Senate ; he had warmly advocated the appointment of Pompey to his high commands ; and he was regarded as a prominent democratic leader. But he had not aspired to the tribunate ; he had not thrown himself into politics with any absorbing passion. His exertions had been intermittent, and he was chiefly known as a brilliant member of fashionable society, a peculiar favorite with women, and remarkable for his abstinence from the coarse debauchery which disgraced his patrician contemporaries. He was now playing for a higher stake, and the oligarchy had occasion to be reminded of Sylla's prophecy. In carrying out the proscrip- 1 Suetonius, spe'tking of Augustus, says: **Quoties adesset, nihil proe- terea agebat, 2eu vitandi rumoris causa, quo patrem CaBsarem vulgo rep- fehensum commemorabat, quod inter spectandum epistolis libellisque le* gendis aut rescribendis vacaret; seu studio spectandi et voluptate/' etc. ■— VUa Octavii 45. Inquiry into the Syllan Proscription. 139 tion, Sylla had employed professional assassins, and payments had been made out of the treasury to wretches who came to him with bloody trophies in tlieir hands to demand the promised fees. The time had come when these doings were to be looked into ; hundreds of men had been murdered, their estates confiscated, and their famihes ruined, who had not been even ostensibly guilty of any public crime. At Caesar's instance an inquiry was ordered. He him- self was appointed Judex Qusestionis, or chairman of a committee of investigation ; and Catiline, among others, was called to answer for himself — a curious commentary on Caesar's supposed connection with him. Nor did the inquisition stop with Sylla. Titus La- bienus, afterwards so famous and so infa- ^ '^ n 1 1 TT. B.C. 63. mous, was then tribune or the people. His fatlier had been killed at the side of Saturninus and Glaucia thirty-seven years before, when the young lords of Rome had unroofed the senate house, and had pelted them and their companions to deatli with tiles. One of the actors in the scene, Caius Rabirius, now a ^^ery old man, was still alive. Labienus prosecuted him before Caesar. Rabirius was condemned, and ap- pealed to the people; and Cicero, who had just been made consul, spoke in his defence. On this occasion Cicero for the first time came actively in collision with Caesar. His language contrasted remarkably with the tone of his speeches against Verres and for the Manilian law. It was adroit, for he charged Ma- rius with having shared the guilt, if guilt there had been, in the death of those men ; but the burde n of what he said was to defend enthusiastically the con- servative aristocracy, and to censure with all his bit- 140 CoBsar. terness the democratic reformers. Rabiriiis was ac- quitted, perhaps justly. It was a hard thing to revive the memory of a political crime which had been shared by the whole patrician order after so long an interval. But Cicero had shown his new colors ; no help, it was evident, was thenceforward to be expected from him in the direction of reform. The popular party re- plied in a singular manner. The oflBce of Pontifex Maximus was the most coveted of all the honors to which a Roman citizen could aspire. It was held for life : it was splendidly endowed ; and there still hung about the pontificate the traditionary dignity attach- ing to the chief of the once sincerely believed Roman religion. Like other objects of ambition, the nomi- nation had fallen, with the growth of democracy, to the people, but the position had always been held by some member of the old aristocracy ; and Sj^la, to se- cure them in the possession of it, had reverted to the ancient constitution, and had restored to the Sacred College the privilege of choosing their head. Under the impulse which the popular party had received from Pompey's successes, Labienus carried a vote in the assembly, by which the people resumed the nom- ination to the pontificate to themselves. In the same year it fell vacant by the death of the aged Metellus Pius. Two patricians, Quintus Catulus and Cassar's old general Servilius Isauricus, were the Senate's can- didates, and vast suras were subscribed and spent to secure the success of one or other of the two. CaBsar came forward to oppose them. Caesar aspired to be Pontifex Maximus — Pope of Rome — he who of all men living was the least given to illusion ; he who was the most frank in his confession of entire disbe- lief in the legends which, though few credited them The Pontificate, 141 any more, yet almost all thought it decent to pretend to credit. Among the phenomena of the time this was surely the most singular. Yet Csesar had been a priest from his boyhood, and why should he not be Pope? He offered himself to the Comitia. Com- mitted as he was to a contest with the richest mer in Rome, he spent money freely. He was in debt al- ready for his expenses as sedile. He engaged his credit still deeper for this new competition. The Btory ran that when his mother kissed him as he was leaving his home for the Forum on the morning of the election, he told her that he would return as pon- tiff, or she would never see him more. He was chosen by an overwhelming majority ; the votes given for him being larger than the collective numbers of the votes entered for his opponents. ^ The election for the pontificate was on the 6th of March, and soon after Caesar received a further evi- dence of popular favor on being chosen praetor for the next year. As the liberal party was growing in courage and definiteness, Cicero showed himself more decidedly on the other side. Now was the time for him, highly placed as he was, to prevent a repeti- tion of the scandals which he had so eloquently de- nounced, to pass laws which no future Verres or LucuUus could dare to defy. Now was his opportu- nity to take the wind out of the reformers' sails, and to grapple himself with the thousand forms of patri- cian villainy which he well knew to be destroying the Commonwealth. Not one such measure, save an in- effectual attempt to check election briberj^, distin- guished the consulship of Cicero. His entire efforts were directed to the combination in a solid phalanx of the equestrian and patrician orders. The danger 142 Ccesar. to society, he had come to tlJnk, was an approaching war against property, and his hope was to unite the rich of both classes in defence against the landless and moneyless multitudes.^ The land question had become again as pressing as in the time of the Gracchi. The peasant proprietors were melting away as fast as ever, and Rome was becoming choked with impoverished citizens, who ought to have been farmers and fathers of families, but were degenerating into a rabble fed upon the corn grants, and occupied with nothing but spectacles and politics. The Agrarian laws in the past had been violent, and might reasonably be com- plained of ; but a remedy could now be found for this fast increasing mischief without injury to any one. Pompey's victories had filled the public treasury. Vast territories abroad had lapsed to the possessior of the State ; and Rullus, one of the tribunes, pro- posed that part of these territories should be sold, and that out of the proceeds and out of the money which Pompey had sent home, farms should be purchased in Italy and poor citizens settled upon them. Rul- lus's scheme might have been crude, and the details of it objectionable ; but to attempt the problem was better than to sit still and let the evil go unchecked. If the bill was impracticable in its existing form, it might have been amended ; and so far as the immedi- 1 Writing three years later to Atticus, he says : " Confirmabam omnium privatorum possessiones, is enim est noster exercitus, ut tute scis loeuple- tium." — To Atticus, i. 19. Pomponius Atticus, Cicero's most intimate correspondent, was a Roman knight, who inheriting a large estate from his father, increased it by contracts, banking, money-lending, and slave- dealing, in which he was deeply engaged. He was an accomplished, cul- tivated man, a shrewd observer of the times, and careful of committing himself on any side. His acquaintance with Cicero rested on similarity of temperament, with a solid financial basis at the bottom of it. They were mutually useful to each other. Agrarian Laiv of Rullus. 143 ate effect of such a law was concerned, it was against the interests of the democrats. The popular vote de- pended for its strength on the masses of poor who were crowded into Rome; and the tribune was proposing to weaken his own army. But the very name of an Agrarian law set patrician householders in a flutter, and Cicero stooped to be their advocate. He at- tacked Rullus with brutal sarcasm. He insulted his appearance : he ridiculed his dress, his hair, and his beard. He mocked at his bad enunciation and bad grammar. No one more despised the mob than Cic* ero ; but because Rullus had said that the city rabble was dangerously powerful, and ought to be ''drawn off " to some wholesome employment, the eloquent consul condescended to quote the words, to score a point against his opponent; and he told the crowd that their tribune had described a number of excel- lent citizens to the Senate as no better than the con- tents of a cesspool.^ By these methods Cicero caught the people's voices. The plan came to nothing, and his consulship would have waned away, undistinguished by any act whicli his country would have cared to remember, but for an accident which raised him for a moment into a posi- tion of real consequence, and impressed on his own mind a conviction that he was a second Romulus. Revolutionary conspiracies are only formidable when the government against which they ave directed is already despised and detested. As long as an ad- ministration is endurable the majority of citizens pre- fer to bear with it, and will assist in repressing vio- 1 ** Et nimium istud est, que d ab hoc tribuno plebis dictum est in sen- •lu : uibanam plebem nimium in republica posse : exhauriendam esse: hoc jnim verbo est usus ; quasi de aliqua sentina, ac non de optimorum civiuni genere loqueretur." — Contra Rulluni^ ii. 26. 144 Ccesar, lent afctempts at its overthrow. Their patience, however, may be exhausted, and the disgust may rise to a point when any change may seem an improve- ment. Authority is no longer shielded by the maj- esty with which it ought to be surrounded. It has made public its own degradation ; and the most wojihless adventurer knows that he has no moral in- dignation to fear if he tries to snatch the reins out of hands which are at least no more pure than his own. If he can dress his endeavors in the livery of patriot- ism, if he can put himself forward as the champion of an injured people, he can cover the scandals of his own character and appear as a hero and a liberator. Catiline had missed the consulship, and was a ruined man. He had calculated on succeeding to a province where lie might gather a golden harvest and come home to live in splendor, like LucuUus. He had failed, defeated by a mere plebeian, whom his brother patricians had stooped to prefer to him. Were the secret history known of the contest for the consul- ship, much might be discovered there to explain Cic- ero's and Catiline's hatred of each other. Cicero had once thought of coalescing with Catiline, notwith- standing his knowledge of his previous crimes : Catiline had perhaps hoped to dupe Cicero, and had been himself outwitted. He intended to stand again for the year 62, but evidently on a different footing from that on which he had presented himself before. That such a man should have been able to offer hini" self at all, and that such a person as Cicero should have entered into any kind of amicable relations with him, was a sign by itself that the Commonwealth was already sickening for death. Catiline was surrounded by men of high birth Catiline stands for the Consulship, 145 whose fortunes were desperate as his own. There was Lentulus, who had been consul % few years be- fore, and had been expelled from the Senate by the censors. There was Cethegus, staggering under a mountain of debts. There was Autronius, who had been unseated for bribery when chosen consul in 65. There was Manlius, once a distinguished officer in Sylla's army, and now a beggar. Besides these were a number of senators, knights, gentlemen, and disso- lute young patricians, whose theorj^ of the world was that it had been created for them to take their pleas- ure in, and who found their pleasures shortened by emptiness of purse. To them, as to their betters, the Empire was but a large dish out of which they considered that they had a right to feed themselves. They were defrauded of their proper share, and Cati- line was the person who would help them to it. Etruria was full of Sylla's disbanded soldiers, who had squandered their allotments, and were hanging about, unoccupied and starving. Catiline sent down Manlius, theu' old officer, to collect as many as he could of them without attracting notice. He him- self, as the election day approached, and Cicero's year of office was drawing to an end, took up tlie character of an aristocratic demagogue, and asked for the suffrages of the people as the champion of the poor against the rich, as the friend of the wretched and oppressed ; and those who thought themselves wretched and oppressed in Rome were so large a body, and so bitterly hostile were they all to the pros- perous classes, that his election was anticipated as a certainty. In the Senate the consulship of Catiline was regarded as no less than an impending national calamity. Marcus Cato, great-grandson of the Cen- 146 Ccesar, Bor, then growing into fame by bis acrid t( ngue and narrow republican fanaticism, who had sneered at Pompey's victories as triumphs over women, and had not spared even Cicero himself, threatened Catiline in the Curia. Catiline ansvyered, in a fully attended house, that if any agitation was kindled agahist him he would put it out not with water, but with revolu- tion. His language became so audacious that, on tho eve of the election day, Cicero moved for a postpone- ment, that the Senate might take his language into consideration. Catiline's conduct was brought on for debate, and the consul called on him to explain him- self. There was no concealment in Catiline. Then and always Cicero admits he was perfectly frank. He made no excuses. He admitted the truth of what had been reported of him. The State, he said, had two bodies, one weak (the aristocracy), with a weak leader (Cicero) ; the other, the great mass of the citizens — strong in themselves, but without a head, and he himself intended to be that head.^ A groan was heard in the house, but less loud than in Cicero's opinion it ought to have been; and Catiline sailed out in triumph, leaving the noble lords looking in each other's faces. Both Cicero and the Senate were evidently in the greatest alarm that Catiline would succeed constitu- tionally in being chosen consul, and they strained every sinew to prevent so terrible a catastrophe. When the Comitia came on, Cicero admits that he occupied the voting place in the Campus Martins with a guard of men who could be depended on. He was violating the law, which forbade the presence of an armed force on those occasions. He excused himself 1 Cicero, Pro Murend, 25. The Catiline Conspiracy, 147 l)y pretending that Catiline's party intended violence, and he appeared ostentatiously in a breastplate as if his own life was aimed at. The result was, that Cati- line failed once more, and was rejected by a small majority. Cicero attributes his defeat to the moral effect produced by the breastplate. But October from the time of the Gracchi downwards ^•^•^• the aristocracy had not hesitated to lay pressure on the elections when they could safely do it ; and the story must be taken with reservation, in the absence of a more impartial account than we possess of the purpose to which Cicero's guard was applied. Un- doubtedly it was desirable to strain the usual rules to keep a wretch like Catiline from the consulship ; but as certainly, both before the election and after it, Cat- iline had the sympathies of a very large part of the resident inhabitants of the city, and these sympathies must be taken into account if we are to understand the long train of incidents of which this occasion was the beginning. Two strict aristocrats, Decimus Silanus and Lucius Murena,! were declared elected. Pompey was on his way home, but had not yet reached Italy. There were no regular troops in the whole Peninsula, and the nearest approach to an army was the body oi Syllans, whom Manlius had quietly collected at Fie- sole. Cicero's colleague, Antonius, was secretly in communication with Catiline, evidently thinking it likely that he would succeed. Catiline determined 1 Murena was afterwards prosecuted for bribery at this election. Cicero defended him; but even Cato, aristocrat as he was, affected to be shocked at the virtuous consul's undertaking so bad a case. It is observable that m his speech for Murena, Cicero found as many virtues in Lucullus as in his speech on the Manilian Law he had found vices. It was another symp toir of hi' change of attitude. 118 CcB8ar. to wait no longer, and to raise an insurrection in the capital, with slave emancipation and a cancelling of debt for a cry. Manlius was to march on Rome, and the Senate, it was expected, would fall without a blow. Caesar and Crassus sent a warning to Cicero to be on his guard. Caesar had called Catiline to ac- count for his doings at the time of the proscription, and knew his nature too well to expect benefit tc.« the people from a revolution conducted under the auspices of bankrupt patrician adventurers. No citi- zen had more to lose than Crassus from a crusade of the poor against the rich. But they had both been suspected two years before ; and in the excited tem- per of men's minds, they took precautions for their own reputation's sake, as well as for the safety of the State. Quintus Curius, a senator, who was one of the conspirators, was meanwhile betraying his accom- plices, and gave daily notice to the consuls of each step which was contemplated. But so weak was au- thority, and so dangerous the temper of the people, that the diflficulty was to know what to do. Secret information was scarcely needed. Catiline, as Cicero said, was " apertissimus,'^ most frank in the declara- tion of his intentions. Manlius's army at Fiesole was .an open fact, and any day might bring news that he was on the march to Rome. The Senate, as usual in extreme emergencies, declared the State in danger, and gave the consuls unlimited powers to provide for public security. So scornfully confident was Catiline, that he offered to place himself under surveillance at the house of any senator whom Cicero might name, or to reside with Cicero himself, if the consul pre- ferred to keep a personal eye upon him. Cicero an« ^wered that he d^red not trust himself with so peril- ous a guest. The Catiline Conspiracy, 149 So for a few days matters hung in suspense, Man- lius expecting an order to advance, Catiline November Waiting apparentlj^ for a spontaneous insur- ^* ^' ^^• rection in the city before he gave the word. In- tended attempts at various points had been baffled by Cicero's precautions. At last, finding that the people remained quiet, Catiline called a meeting of his friends one stormy night at the beginning of No- vember, and it was agreed that two of the party should go the next morning at dawn to Cicero's house, demand to see him on important business, and kill him in his bed. Curius, who was present, im- mediately furnished Cicero with an account of what had passed. When his morning visitors arrived, they were told that they could not be admitted ; and a summons was sent round to the senators to assem- ble immediately at the Temple of Jupiter Stator — one of the strongest positions in the city.^ The au- dacious Catiline attended, and took his usual seat ; every one shrank from him, and he was left alone on the bench. Then Cicero rose. In the Senate, where to speak was the first duty of man, he was in his proper element, and had abundant courage. He ad- dressed himself personally to the principal conspira- tor. He exposed, if exposure be the fitting word when half the persons present knew as much as he could tell them, the history of Catiline's proceedings. He described, in detail, the meeting of the past even- ing, looking round perhaps in the faces of the sena- tors, who, he was aware, had been present at it. He epoke of the visit designed to himself in the morning, v/hich had been baffled by his precautions. He went back over the history of the preceding half-century. 1 "In loco muniHssimo." ] 50 Qcesar. Fresh from the defence of Rabirius, he showed how dangerous citizens, the Gracchi, Saturninas, Glaucia, had been satisfactorily killed when they were medita- ting mischief. He did not see that a constitution was already doomed, when the ruling powers were driven to assassinate their opponents, because a trial with the forms of law would have ended in their acquittal. He told Catihne that, under the powers which the Senate had conferred on him, he might order his in- stant execution. He detailed Catiline's past enormi- ties, which he had forgotten when he sought hia friendship, and he ended in bidding him leave the citjT-, go, and join Manlius and his army. Never had Cicero been greater, and never did ora- tory end in a more absurd conclusion. He dared not arrest Catiline. He confessed that he dared not. There was not a doubt that Catiline was meditating a revolution — but a revolution was precisely what half the world was wishing for. Rightly read, those sounding paragraphs, those moral denunciations, those appeals to history and patriotic sentiment, were the funeral knell of the Roman Commonwealth. Let Catiline go into open war, Cicero said, and then there would no longer be a doubt. Then all the world would admit his treason. Catiline went ; and what was to follow next ? Antonius, the second consul, was notoriously not to be relied on. The other conspirators, senators who sat listening while Cicero poured out his eloquent indignation, remained still in the city with the threads of insurrection in their hands, and were encouraged to persevere by the evident helplessness of the government. The imper- fect record of history retains for us only the actions of a few individuals whom special talent or special The Catiline Conspiracy. 151 circumstances distinguislied, and such information ia only fragmentar3^ We lose sight of the unnamed seething multitudes by whose desires and by whose hatreds the stream of events was truly guided. The party of revolution was as various as it was wide. Powerful wealthy men belonged to it, who were po- litically dissatisfied ; ambitious men of rank, whose money embarrassments weighted them in the race against their competitors ; old ofiicers and soldiers of Sylla, who had spent the fortunes which they had won by violence, and were now trying to bring him back from the dead to renew their lease of plunder ; ruined wretches without number, broken down with fines and proscriptions, and debts and the accumula- tion of usurious interest. Add to these ''the danger- ous classes," the natural enemies of all governments : parricides, adulterers, thieves, forgers, escaped slaves, brigands, and pirates who had lost their occupation ; and, finally, Catiline's own chosen comrades, the smooth-faced patrician youths with curled hair and redolent of perfumes, as yet beardless or with the first down upon their chins, wearing scarfs and veils and sleeved tunics reaching to their ankles, industri- ous but only with the dice-box, night watchers but in the supper rooms, in the small hours before dawn, immodest, dissolute boys, whose education had been in learning to love and to be loved, to sing and to dance naked at the midnight orgies, and along with it to handle poniards and mix poisoned bo wis. ^ 1 This description of the young Roman aristocracy is given by Cicero in his most powerful vein: "Postremum autem genus est, non solum numero, verum etiam genere ipso atque vita, quod proprium est CatiliniB, de ejus deloctu, immo vero de complexu ejus ac sinu; quos pexo capillo, nitidos, aut imberbes, aut bene barbatos, videtis, manicatis et talaribus tunicis; velis amictos, non togis: quorum omnis industria vitae et vigilandi labor in antekicanis coenis expromitur. In his gregibus omnes aleatores, omnea 162 OcRsar. Well might Cicero be alarmed at such a combina- tion ; well might he say, that if a generation of such youths lived to manhood, there would be a common- wealth of Catilines. But what was to be thought of the prospects of a society in which such phenomena were developing themselves ? Cicero bade them all go, — follow their chief into the war, and perish in the snow of the Apennines. But how, if they would not go ? How, if from the soil of Rome under the rule of his friends the Senate, fresh crops of such youths would rise perennially ? The Commonwealth needed more drastic medicine than eloquent exhorta- tions, however true the picture might be. None of the promising young gentlemen took Cicero's advice. Catiline went alone, and joined Man- lius, and had he come on at once he might perhaps have l:aken Rome. The army was to support an in- surrection, and the insurrection was to support the army. Catiline waited for a signal from his friends in the city, and Lentulus, Cethegus, Autronius, and the rest of the lea.ders waited for Catiline to arrive. Conspirators never think that they have taken pre- cautions enough, or have gained allies enough ; and in endeavoring to secure fresh support, they made a fatal mistake. An embassy of Allobroges was in the city, a frontier tribe on the borders of the Roman pro- vince in Gaul, who were allies of Rome, though not as yet subjects. The Gauls were the one foreign nation whom the Romans really feared. The passes Adulted, omnes impuri impudicique versantur. Hi pueri tarn lepidi ac delicati noii solum amare et amari neque cantare et saltare, sed etiam sicas vibrare et spargere venena didicerunt Nudi in conviviis saltare didicerunt." — In Catilinam, ii. 10. Compare In Pisonem^ 10. The Romans shaved their beards at full maturity, and therefore "bene barbatos " does not mean grown men, but youths on the edge of man^ feood. The Oatilme Conspiracy, 153 of the Alps alone protected Italy from the hordes of German or Gallic barbarians, whose numbers being unknown were supposed to be exhaustless. Middle- aged men could still remember the panic at the inva- sion of the Cimbri and Teutons, and it was the chi(3f pride of the democrats that the State had then been saved by their own Marius. At the critical moment it was discovered that the conspirators had entered into a correspondence with these Allobroges, and had actually proposed to them to make a fresh inroad over the Alps. The suspicion of such an intention at once alienated from Catiline the respectable part of the democratic party. The fact of the communi- cation was betrayed to Cicero. He intercepted the letters ; he produced them in the Senate with the seals unbroken, that no suspicion might rest upon himself. Lentulus and Cethegus were sent for, and could not deny their hands. The letters were then opened and read, and no shadow of uncertainty any longer re- mained that they had really designed to bring in an army of Gauls. Such of the conspirators as were known and were still within reach were instantly seized. Cicero, with a pardonable laudation of himself and of the Divine Providence of which he professed to re- gard hiuKself as the minister, congratulated his coun- try on Its escape from so genuine a danger; and he then invited the Senate to say what was to be done with these apostates from their order, whose treason was now demonstrated. A plot for a mere change of government, for the deposition of the aristocrats, and the return to power of the popular party, it might oe impolitic, perhaps impossible, severely to punish ^ but ..Catiline and his friends had planned the 154 Uoesar. betraj^al of the State to the barbarians ; and with per* Bons who had committed themselves to national trea- son there was no occasion to hesitate. Cicero pro- duced the list of those whom he considered guilty, and there were some among his friends who thought the opportunity might be used to get rid of danger- ous enemies, after the fashion of Sylla, especially of Crassus and Caesar. The name of Crassus was first mentioned, some said by secret friends of Catiline, who hoped to alarm the Senate into inaction by show* ing with whom they would have to deal. Crassus, it is possible, knew more than he had told the con- sul. Catiline's success had, at one moment, seemed assured ; and great capitalists are apt to insure against contingencies. But Cicero moved and carried a reso- lution that the charge against him was a wicked in- vention. The attempt against Caesar was more deter- mined. Old Catulus, whom Caesar had defeated in the contest for the pontificate, and Caius Calpur- nius Piso,^ a bitter aristocrat, whom Caesar had pros- ecuted for misgovernment in Gaul, urged Cicero to include his name. But Cicero was too honorable to Aend himself to an accusation which he knew to be December, f^-lsc. Somc of the young lords in their dis- 5,B. G. 63. appointment threatened Caesar at the sen- ate-house door with their swords ; but the attack missed its mark, and served only to show how dreaded Caesar already was, and how eager a desire there was to make an. end of him. The list submitted for judgment contained the names of none but those who were indisputably guilty. The Senate voted at once that they were 1 Not to be confounded with Lucius Calpurnius Piso, who was C.^sar'i father-in-law. The Catiline Qonspiracjj, 155 traitors to the State. The next question was of the nature of their punishment. In the first phice the persons of public officers were sacred, and Lentulus was at tli-e time a prgetor. And next the Sempronian law forbade distinctly that any Roman citizen should be put to death without a trial, and without the righfc of appeal to the assemblJ^^ It did not mean simply that Roman citizens were not to be murdered, or that at any time it had been supposed that they might. The object was to restrain the extraordinary power claimed by the Senate of setting the laws aside on exceptional occasions. Silanus, the consul-elect for the following year, was, according to usage, asked to give his opinion first. He Yoted for immediate death. One after the other the voices were the same, till the turn came of Tiberius Nei'o, the great-grand- father of Nero the Emperor. Tiberius was against haste. He advised that the prisoners should be kept in confinement till Catiline was taken or killed, and that the whole affair should then be carefully inves- tigated. Investigation was perhaps what many sena- tors were most anxious to avoid. When Tiberius had done, Caesar rose. The speech which Sallust places in his mouth was not an imaginary sketch of what Sallust supposed him likely to have said, but the version generally received of what he actually did say, and the most important passages of it are cer- tainly authentic. For the first time we see through the surface of Ceesar's outward actions into his real mind. During the three quarters of a century which had passed since the death of the elder Gracchus one political murder had followed upon another. Every conspicuous democrat had been killed by the aristo- ^ ''Injussu populi." 156 Ccesar. crats in some convenient disturbance. No constitih tion could survive when the law was habitually set aside by violence ; and disdaining the suspicion with which he knew that his words would be regarded, CcCsar warned the Senate against another act of ])re- cipitate anger which would be unlawful in itself, un- worthy of their dignity, and likely in the future to throw a doubt upon the guilt of the men upon whose fate they were deliberating. He did not extenuate, he rather emphasized, the criminality of Catiline and his confederates ; but for that reason and because for the present no reasonable person felt the slightest un- certainty about it, he advised them to keep within the lines which the law had marked out for them. He spoke with respect of Silanus. He did not sup- pose him to be influenced by feelings of party ani- mosity. Silanus had recommended the execution of the prisoners, either because he thought their lives in- compatible with the safety of the State, or because no milder punishment seemed adequate to the enor- mity of their conduct. But the safety of the State, he said, with a compliment to Cicero, had been suffi- ciently provided for by the diligence of the consul. As to punishment, none could be too severe ; but with that remarkable adherence to fact^ which always distinguished Caesar, that repudiation of illusion and eincere utterance of his real belief, whatever that might be, he contended that death was net a punish- ment at all. Death was the end of human suffer- ing. In the grave there was neither joy nor sorrow. When a man was dead he ceased to be.^ He became 1 The real opinion of educated Romans on this subject was expressed in the well-known lines of Lucretius, which were probably written near thii rery time : " Nil igitur mors est, ad nos neque pertinet hilum, Quandoquilem natura animi mortalis hab^tur : The Catiline Conspiracy. 157 as he had been before he was born. Probably al- most every one in the Senate thought like Caesar on this subject. Cicero certainly did. The only differ- ence was, that plausible statesmen affected a respect for the popular superstition, and pretended to believe what they did not believe. Caesar spoke liis convic- tions out. There was no longer any solemnity in an execution. It was merely the removal out of the way of troublesome persons ; and convenient as such a method might be, it was of graver consequence that the Senate of Rome, the guardians of the law, should not set an example of violating the law. Illegality, Csesar told them, would be followed by greater ille- galities. He reminded them how they had applauded Sylla, how they had rejoiced when they saw their political enemies summarily dispatched ; and yet the proscription, as they well knew, had been perverted to the license of avarice and private revenge. They might feel sure that no such consequence need be feared under their present consul : but times m'ght change. The worst crimes which had been com- mitted in Rome in the past century had risen out of the imitation of precedents, which at the moment seemed defensible. The laws had prescribed a defi- nite punishment for treason. Those laws had been gravely considered ; they had been enacted by the Et, velut ante acto nil tempore sensimus aegri, Ad confligendum venientibus undiqiie Poenis ; Omnia cum belli trepido concussa tumiiltu, Horrida, contremuere sub alt is setheris auria , In dubioque fuit sub utrorum regna cadendum Omnibus humauis esset, terraque, marique : Sic, ubi non erimus, cum corporis atque animai Discidium fuerit, quibus e sumus uniter apti, Scilicet baud nobis quicquam, qui non erimus tum, Accidere omnio poterit, sensumque movere : Non, si terra mari miscebitur, et mare coelo." Lucretius lib. iii 11. 842*364. 168 Ccesar. great men who had built up the Roman dominion, and were not to be set aside in impatient haste. Caesar therefore recommended that the estates of the conspirators should be confiscated, that they them- selveft should be kept in strict and solitary confine- ment dispersed in various places, and that a resohi- fcion should be passed forbidding an application for their pardon either to Senate or people. The speech was weighty in substance and weight- ily delivered, and it produced its effect.^ Silanus withdrew his opinion. Quintus Cicero, the consul's brother, followed, and a clear majority of the Senate w^ent with them, till it came to the turn of a young man who in that year had taken his place in the house for the first time, who was destined to make a repu- tation which could be set in competition with that of the gods themselves, and whose moral opinion could be held superior to that of tlie gods.^ Marcus Fortius Cato was born in the year 95, and was thus five years younger than Csesar and eleven years younger than Cicero. He was the great-grand- son, as was said above, of the stern rugged Censor who hated Greek, preferred the teaching of the plough- tail and the Twelve Tables to the philosophy of Aris- 1 In the following century when Caesar's life had become mythic, a story wras current that when Caesar was speaking on this occasion a note was brought in to him, and Cato, suspecting that it referred to the conspiracy, insisted that it should be read. Caesar handed it to Cato, and it prove ,d to be a love letter from Cato's sister, Servilia, the mother of Brutus. Mc re will be said of the supposed liaison between Caesar and Servilia heitaftcr. For the present it is enough to say that there is no contemporary evidence for the story at all; and that if it be true that a note of some kind from Servilia was given to Caesar, it is more consistent with probability and the other circumstances of the case, that it was an innocent note of business. Ladies do not send in compromising letters to their lovers when they are on their feet in Parliament; nor, if such an accident should happen, d3 the 'overs pass them over to be read by the ladies' brothers. 2 " Victrix causa Deis placuit, sed victa Catoni." — Lucan. The Oatiliiie Conspiracy, 159 totle, disbelieved in progress, and held by the maxims of his father — the last, he, of the Romans of the old type. The young Marcus affected to take his ances- tor for a pattern. He resembled him as nearly as a modern Anglican monk resembles St. Francis or St. Bernard. He could reproduce the form, but it was the form with the life gone out of it. He was im- measurably superior to the men around him. He was virtuous, if it be virtue to abstain from sin. He never lied. No one ever suspected him of dishonesty or corruption. But his excellences were not of the re- tiring sort. He carried them written upon him hi let- ters for all to read, as a testimony to a wicked gen- eration. His opinions were as pedantic as his life was abstemious, and no one was permitted to differ from him without being held guilty rather of a crime than of a mistake. He was an aristocratic pedant, to whom the living forces of humanity seemed but irrational impulses of which he and such as he were the ap- pointed school-masters. To such a temperament a man of genius is instinctively hateful. Cato had spoken often in the Senate, though so young a mem- ber of it, denouncing the immoral habits of the age. He now rose to match himself against Caesar ; and with passionate vehemence he insisted that the wretches who had plotted the overthrow of the State should be immediately killed. He noticed Caesar's objections only to irritate the suspicion in which he probably shared, that Caesar himself was one of Catiline's ac- complices. That Caesar had urged as a reason for moderation the absence of immediate danger, was in Cato's opinion an argument the more for anxiety. Naturally, too, he did not miss the opportunity of striking at the scepticism which questioned future ret- 160 Ccesar. ribution. Whether Cato believed himself in a futur© life mattered little, if Caesar's frank avowal could be turned to his prejudice. Cato spoke to an audience well disposed to go ^ith liim. Silanus went round to his first view, and the mass of senators followed him. Caesar attempted to reply ; but so fierce were the passions that had been roused, that again he was in danger of violence. The young knights who were present as a senatorial guard rushed at him with their drawn swords. A few friends protected him with their cloaks, and he left the Curia not to enter it again for the rest of the year. When Caesar was gone, Cicero rose to finish the de- bate. He too glanced at Caesar's infidelity, and as Caesar had spoken of the wisdom of past generations, he observed that in the same generations there had been a pious belief that the grave was not the end of human existence. With an ironical compliment to the prudence of Caesar's advdce, he said that his own interest would lead him to follow it; he would have the less to fear from the irritation of the people. The Senate, he observed, must have heard with pleasure that Caesar condemned the conspiracy. Caesar was the leader of the popular party, and from him at least they now knew that they had nothing to fear. The punishment which Caesar recommended w^as, in fact, Cicero admitted, more severe than death. He trusted, tlierefore, that if the conspirators were executed, and he had to answer to the people for the sentence to be passed upon them, Caesar himself would defend him against the charge of cruelty. Meanwhile he said that he had the ineffable satisfaction of knowing that he had saved the State. The Senate might adopt Bu«h resolutions as might seem good to them without The Catiline Conspiracy, 161 alarm for the consequences. The conspiracy was dis- armed. He had made enemies among the bad citi- zens ; but he had deserved and he had won the grati- tude of the good, and he stood secure behind the impregnable bulwark of his country's love. Sc Cicero, in the first effusion of self-admir.xtion with which he never ceased to regard his conduct on this occasion. No doubt he had acted bravely, and he had shown as much adroitness as courage. But the whole truth was never told. The Senate's anxiety to execute the prisoners arose from a fear that the peo- ple would be against them if an appeal to the assem- bly was allowed. The Senate was contending for the privilege of suspending the laws by its own in- dependent will ; and the privilege, if it was ever con- stitutional, had become so odious by the abuse of it, that to a large section of Roman citizens, a conspir- acy against the oligarchy had ceased to be looked on as treason at all. Cicero and Cato had their way. Lentulus, Cethegus, Autronius, and their companions were strangled in their cells, on the afternoon of the debate upon their fate. A few weeks later Catiline's army was cut to pieces, and he himself was killed. So desperately his haggard bands had fought that they fell in their ranks where they stood, and never Roman commander gained a victory that cost him more dear. So furious a resistance implied a motive and a purpose beyond any which Cicero or Sallust re- cords, and thfe commission of inquiry suggested by Tiberius Nero in the Senate might have led to curious revelations. The Senate perhaps had its own reasons for fearing such revelations, and for wishing tho voices closed which could have made them. 11 CHAPTER XIL The execution of Lentulus and.Cethegus was re^ ceived in Rome with the feelins: which Cse- B r 62 sar had anticipated. There was no active sympathy with the conspiracj^, but the conspiracy was forgotten in indignation at the lawless action of the consiil and the Senate. It was still violence — always violence. Was law, men asked, never to re- sume its authority ? — was the Senate to deal at its pleasure with the lives and properties of citizens ? — criminals though they might be, what right had Cic- ero to strangle citizens in dungeons without trial ? If this was to be allowed, the constitution was at an end; Rome was no longer a Republic, but an arbi- trary oligarchy. Pompey's name was on every tongue. When would Pompey come ? Pompey, the friend of the people, the terror of the aristocracy ! Pom- pey, who had cleared the sea of pirates, and doubled the area of the Roman dominions ! Let Pompey re- turn and bring his army with him, and give to Rome the same peace and order w^hich he had already given to the world. A Roman commander, on landing in Italy after foieign service, was expected to disband his legions, and relapse into the position of a private person. A popular and successful general was an object of in- stinctive fear to the politicians who held the reins of government. The Senate was never pleased to see any individual too much an object of popular idol- Preparations for Pompey^s Return, 163 atry ; and in the case of Pompey their suspicion was the greater, on account of the greatness of his achieve- ments, and because his command had been forced upon them by the people, against their will. In the absence of a garrison, the city was at the mercy of the patricians and their clients. That the noble lords were unscrupulous in removing persons whom they disliked they had shown in a hundred instances, and Pompey naturally enough hesitated to trust himself among them without security. He required the pro- tection of office, and he had sent forward one of his most distinguished officers, Metellus Nepos, to pre- pare the way and demand the consulship for him, Metellus, to strengthen his hands, had stood for the tribuneship ; and, in spite of the utmost efforts of the aristocracy, had been elected. It fell to Metellus to be the first to give expression to the general indig- nation in a way peculiarly wounding to the illustrious consul. Cicero imagined that the world looked upon him as its saviour. In his own eyes he was aiiother Romulus, a second founder of Rome. The world, un- fortunately, had formed an entirely different estimate of him. The prisoners had been killed on the 6th o£ December. On the last day of the year it was usual for the outgoing consuls to review the events of their term of office before the Senate ; and Cicero had pre- pared a speech in which he had gilded his own per- formances with all his eloquence. Metellus com- jnen^ed his tribunate with forbidding Cicero to de- liver his oration, and forbidding him on the special ground, that a man who had put Roman citizens to death without allowing them a hearing, did not him- sielf deserve to be heard. In the midst of the confu- sion and uproar which followed, Cicero could only 164 - Ccesar. shriek that he had saved his country : a declaration which could have been dispensed with since he had so often insisted upon it already without producing the assent which he desired. Notwithstanding his many fine qualities, Cicero was wanting in dignity. His vanity was wounded in !ts tenderest point, and he attacked Metellus a day or two after, in one of those violently abusive outpour- ings, of which so many specimens of his own survive, and which happily so few other statesmen attempted to imitate. Metellus retorted with a threat of im- peaching Cicero, and the grave Roman Curia became no better than a kennel of mad dogs. For days the storm raged on with no symptom of abatement. At last, Metellus turned to the people and proposed in the assembly that Pompey should be recalled with his army to restore law and order. Csesar, who was now praetor, warmly supported Metellus. To him, if to no one else, it was clear as the sun at noonday, that unless some better govern- ment could be provided than could be furnished by five hundred such gentlemen as the Roman senators, the State was drifting on to destruction. Resolutions to be submitted to the people were generally first drawn in writing, and were read from the Rostra. When Metellus produced his proposal, Cato, who was a tribune also, sprang to his side, ordered him to be Bilent, and snatched the scroll out of his hands. Me- tellus went on, speaking from memory : Cato's friends shut his mouth by force. The patricians present drew their swords and cleared the Forum ; and the Senate, in the exercise of another right to which they protended, declared Caesar and Metellus degraded from their offices. Metellus, probably at Ciesar's ad- Scene 171 the Assembly, 166 vice, withdrew and went off to Asia, to describe what had passed to Pompey. C£esar remained, and, quietly disregarding the Senate's sentence, continued to sit and hear cases as praetor. His court was forcibly closed. He yielded to violence and retired under pro- test, being escorted to the door of his house by an enormous multitude. There he dismissed his lictors and laid aside his official dress, that he might furnish no excuse for a charge against him of resisting the established authorities. The mob refused to be com- forted. They gathered day after day. They clus- tered about the pontifical palace. They cried to Caesar to place himself at their head, that they might tear down the senate house, and turn the caitiffs into the street. C^sar neither then nor ever lent him- self to popular excesses. He reminded the citizens that if others broke the law, they must themselves set an example of obeying it, and he bade them re- turn to their homes. Terrified at the state of the city, and penitent for their injustice to Csesar, the Senate hurriedly revoked their decree of deposition, sent a deputation to him to apologize, and invited him to resume his place among them. The extreme patrician section re- mained irreconcilable. Caesar complied, but only to find himself denounced again with passionate perti- nacity as having been an accomplice of Catiline. Witnesses were produced, who swore to having seen Ids signature to a treasonable bond. Curius, Cicero's spy, declared that Catiline himself had told him that C'sesar was one of the conspirators. Caesar treated the charge with indignant disdain. Pie appealed to Cicero's conscience, and Cicero was obliged to say that ho had derived his earliest and most important 166 Cmar. information from Caesar himself. The most violent of his accusers were placed under arrest. The in- formers, after a near escape from being massacred by the crowd, were thrown into prison, and for the mo- ment the furious heats were able to cool. All eyes were now turned to Pompey. The war in Asia was oyer. Pompey, it was clear, must now return to receive the thanks of his countrymen ; and as he had triumphed in spite of the aristocracy, and as his victories could neither be denied nor undone, the best hope of the Senate was to win him over from the people, and to prevent a union between him and Caesar. Through all the recent dissensions Cae- sar had thrown his weight on Pompey's side. He, with Cicero, had urged Pompey's appointment to his successive commands. When Cicero went over to the patricians, Caesar had stood by Pompey's officers against the fury of the Senate. Caesar had the people behind him, and Pompey the army. Un- less in some way an apple of discord could be thrown between them, the two favorites would overshadow the State, and the Senate's authority would be gone. Nothing could be done for the moment politically. Pompey owed his position to the democracy, and he was too great as yet to fear Caesar as a rival in the Commonwealth. On the personal side there was better hope. Caesar was as much admired in the world of fashion as he was detested in the Curia, lie had no taste for the brutal entertainments and more brutal vices of male patrician society. He pre- ferred the companionship of cultivated women, and the noble lords had the fresh provocation of findirg their hated antagonist an object of adoration to their wives and daughters. Here, at any rate, scandal Roman Scandals, 167 had the field to itself. Caesar was accused of crimi> nal intimacy with many ladies of the highest rank, and Pompey was privately informed that his friend had taken advantage of his absence to seduce his wife, Mucia. Pompey was Agamemnon ; Caesar liad been ^gisthus ; and Pompey was so far persuaded that Mucia had been unfaithful to him, that he ii- vorced her before his return. Charges of this kind have the peculiar advantage that even when disproved or shown to be manifestly absurd, they leave a stain behind them. Careless equally of probability and decency, the leaders of the Senate sacrificed without scruple the reputation of their own relatives if only they could make Csesar odious. The name of Servilia has been mentioned already. Servilia was the sister of Marcus Cato and the mother of Marcus Brutus. She was a woman of remarkable ability and character, and between her and Caesar there was undoubtedly a close acquaint- ance and a strong mutual affection. The world dis- covered that she was Caesar's mistress, and that Bru- tus was his son. It might be enough to say that when Brutus was born Caesar was scarcely fifteen years old, and that, if a later intimacy existed be- tween them, Brutus knew nothing of it or cared nothing for it. When he stabbed Csesar at last it was not as a Hamlet or an Orestes, but as a patriot sacrificing his dearest friend to his country. The same doubt extends to the other supposed victims of Caesar's seductiveness. Names were mentioned in the following century, but no particulars were given. For the most part his alleged mistresses were the wives of men who remained closely attached to him notwithstanding. The report of his intrigue with Jcemr. Mucia answered its immediate purpose, in producing a temporary coldness on Pompey's part towards Caesar ; but Pompey must either have discovered the story to be false or else have condoned it, for soon afterwards he married Caesar's daughter. Two points may be remarked about these legends : first, that on no single occasion does Csesar appear to have been involved in any trouble or quarrel on account of his love affairs ; and secondly, that, with the exception of Brutus and of Cleopatra's C^sarion, whose claims to be Caesar's son were denied and disproved, there is no record of any illegitimate children as the result of these amours — a strange thing if Csesar was as liberal of his favors as popular scandal pretended. It would be idle to affect a belief that Caesar was par- ticularly virtuous. He was a man of the world, liv- ing in an age as corrupt as has been ever known. It would be equally idle to assume that all the ink blots thrown upon him were certainly deserved, because we find them in books which we call classical. Proof deserving to be called proof there is none ; and the only real evidence is the town talk of a society which feared and hated Csesar, and was glad of every pre- text to injure him when alive, or to discredit him after his death. Similar stories have been spread, are spread, and will be spread of every man who raises himself a few inches above the level of his fel- lows. We know how it is with our contemporaries. A single seed of fact will produce in a season or two a harvest of calumnies, and sensible men pass such things by, and pay no attention to them. With his- tory we are less careful or less charitable. An accu- sation of immorality is accepted without examination when brought against eminent persons who can no Roman Scandals. 169 longer defend themselves, and to raise a doubt of its truth passes as a sign of a weak understanding. So let it be. It is certain that Caesar's contemporaries spread rumors of a variety of intrigues, in which they said that he was concerned. It is probable that some were well founded. It is possible that all were well founded. But it is no less indubitable that they rest on evidence which is not evidence at all, and that the most innocent intimacies would not have escaped mis- representation from the venomous tongues of Roman society. Caesar comes into court with a fairer char- acter than those whose virtues are thought to over- shadow him. Marriage, which under the ancient Romans was the most sacred of ties, had become the lightest and the loosest. Cicero divorced Terentir when she was old and ill-tempered, and married a young woman. Cato made over his Marcia, the mother of his children, to his friend Hortensius, and took her back as a wealthy widow when Hortensius died. Pompey put away his first wife at Sylla's bid- ding, and took a second who was already the wife of another man. Caesar, when little more than a boy, dared the Dictator's displeasure rather than conde- scend to a similar compliance. His worst enemies admitted that from the gluttony, the drunkenness, and the viler forms of sensuality, which were then so common, he was totally free. For the rest, it is cer- tain that no friend ever permanently quarrelled with him on any question of domestic injury ; and either there was a general indifference on such subjects, which lightens the character of the sin, or popular ecandals in old Rome were of no sounder material than we find them composed of in other countries and in other times. 170 C(2mr. Turning from scandal to rea.ity, we come now to a curious incident, which occasioned a fresh political convulsion, where Caesar appears, not as an actor in an affair of gallantry, but as a sufferer. Pompey was still absent. Csesar had resumed his duties as a praetor, and was living in the ofl&cial house of the Pontifex Maximus, with his mother Aurelia and his wife Pompeia. The age was fertile of new religions. The worship of the Bona Dea, a foreign goddess of unknown origin, had recently been intro- duced into Rome, and an annual festival was held in her honor in the house of one or other of the princi- pal magistrates. The Vestal virgins officiated at tlie ceremonies, and women only were permitted to be present. This year the pontifical palace was selected for the occasion, and Caesar's wife Pompeia was to preside. The reader may remember a certain youth named Clodius, who had been with LucuUus in Asia, and had been a chief instigator of the mutiny in his army. He was Lucullus's brother-in-law, a member of the Claudian family, a patrician of the patricians, and connected by blood and marriage with the proudest members of the Senate. If Cicero is to be believed, he had graduated even while a boy in every form of vice, natural and unnatural. He was bold, clever, unprincipled, and unscrupulous, with a slender diminu- tive figure and a delicate woman's face. His name was Clodius Pulcher. Cicero played upon it and called him Pulchellus Puer, '' the pretty boy." Be- tween this promising young man and Caesar's wife Pompeia there had sprung up an acquaintance, which Clodius was anxious to press to further extremes. Pompeia was difficult of access, her mother-in-law Clodiiis and Ponipeia, 171 Aurelia keeping a strict watch over her; and Clodius, who was afraid of nothing, took advantage of the Bona Dea festival to make his way into Csesar's house dressed as a woman. Unfortunately for him, his dis- guise was detected. The insulted Vestals and the other ladies who were present flew upon him like the dogs of Actaeon, tore his borrowed garments from him, and drove him into the street naked and wounded. The adventure became known. It was mentioned in the Senate, and the College of Priests was ordered to hold an inquiry. The College found that Clodius had committed sacrilege, and the regular course in such cases was to send the offender to trial. There was general unwillingness, however, to treat this matter seriously. Clodius had many friends in the house, and even Cicero, who was inclined at first to be severe, took on reflection a more lenient view. Clodius had a sister, a light lady who, weary of her conquests oyer her fashionable admirers, had tried her fascinations on the great orator. He had escaped complete subju- gation, but he had been flattered by the attention of the seductive beauty, and was ready to help her brother out of his difficulty. Clodius was not yet the dangerous desperado which he afterwards became ; and immorality, though seasoned with impiety, might easily, it was thought, bo made too much of. Ciesar himself did not press for punishment. As president of the college, he had acquiesced in their decision. and he divorced the unfortunate Pompeia; but he expressed no opinion as to the extent of her criminal- ity, and he gave as his reason for separating from her, not that she was guilty, but that CcCsar's wife mnsfc be above suspicion. Cato, however, insisted en a prosecution. Messala, 172 CcBsar. one of the consuls, was eqaall;^ peremptory. The hesitation was regarded by the stricter senators as a scandal to the order ; and in spite of the efforts of the second consul Piso, who was a friend of Clodius, it was decided that a bill for his indictment should be submitted to the assembly in the Forum. Clodius, it seems, was generally popular. No political question was raised hj the proceedings against him ; for the present his offence was merely a personal one ; the wreck of Catiline's companions, the dissolute young aristocrats, the loose members of all ranks and classes, took up the cause, and gathered to support their fa- vorite, with young Curio, whom Cicero called in mock- ery Filiola^ at their head. The approaches to the Forum were occupied by them. Piso, by whom the bill was introduced, himself advised the people to re- ject it. Cato flew to the Rostra and railed at the cons.ul. Hortensius, the orator, and many others spoke on the same side. It appeared at last that the people were divided, and would consent to the bill being passed, if it was recommended to them by both the consuls. Again, therefore, the matter was referred to the Senate. One of the tribunes introduced Clo- dius, that he might speak for himself. Cicero had now altered his mind, and was in favor of the prose- cution. The '^ pretty youth '" was alternately humble and violent, begging pardon, and then bursting into abuse of his brother-in-law, LucuUus, and more particularly of Cicero, whom he suspected of being the chief pro- moter of the proceedings against him. When it came to a division, the Senate voted by a majority of font hundred to fifteen that the consuls must recommend the bill. Piso gave way, and the tribune also who Trial of Clddius. 173 had been in Clodius's favor. The people were satis- fied, and a court of fifty-six judges was appointed, before whom the trial was to take place. It ^ebma seemed that a conviction must necessarily ^- ^ ^^• follow, for there was no question about the facts, which were all admitted. There was some manau- vring, however, in the constitution of the court, which raised Cicero's suspicions. The judges, instead of being selected by the praetor, were chosen by lot, and the prisoner was allowed to challenge as many names as he pleased. The result was that in Cicero's opin- ion a more scandalous set of persons than those who were finally sworn were never collected round a gam- ing table — "disgraced senators, bankrupt knights, disreputable tribunes of the treasury, the few honest men that were left appearing to be ashamed of their company " — and Cicero considered that it would have been better if Hortensius, who was prosecuting, had withdrawn, and had left Clodius to be condemned by the general sense of respectable people, rather than risk the credit of Roman justice before so scandalous a tribunal.^ Still the case as it proceeded appeared so clear as to leave no hope of an acquittal. Clodius's friends were in despair, and were meditating an ap- peal to the mob. The judges, on the evening of the first day of the trial, as if they had already decided on a verdict of guilty, applied for r guard to protect them A\hile they delivered it. Thr Senate complimented them in giving their consent. With a firm expecta- tion present in all men's minds the second morning dawned. Even in Rome, accustomed as it was to * '*Si causam quaeris absolutionis, egestas judicum fuit et turpitiicUi . . . Non vidit (Hortensius) satius esse dlmu in infamia relinqui ac sor- dibus quam iiifirmo judicio committi."— '/'^ Atticus^ i. 16 174 Ccesar. 1 mockeries of justice, public opinion was shocked when the confident anticipation was disappointed. Accord- ing to Cicero, Marcus Crassus, for reasons known to himself, had been interested in Clodius. During the night he sent for the judges one by one. He gave them money. What else he either gave or promised them, must continue veiled in Cicero's Latin.^ Be- fore these influences the resolution of the judges melted away, and when the time came, thirty-one out of fifty-six high-born Roman peers and gentlemen de- clared Clodius innocent. The original cause was nothing. That a profligate young man should escape punishment for a licentious frolic was comparatively of no consequence ; but the trial acquired a notoriety of infamy which shook once more the already tottering constitution. '' Why did j^ou ask for a guard ? " old Catulua growled to the judges : " was it that the money you have received might not be taken from you ? " " Such is the history of this affair," Cicero wrote to his friend Atticus. '^ We thought that the foundation of the Commonwealth had been surely reestablished in my consulship, all orders of good men being hap- pily united* You gave the praise to me and I to the gods ; and now unless some god looks favorably on - us, all is lost in this single judgment. Thirty Ro- mans have been found to trample justice under foot for a bribe, and to declare an act not to have been committed, about which not only not a man, but not a beast of the field, can entertain the smallest doubt." Cato threatened the judges with impeachment; ^ "Jam vcro, oh Dii Boni ! rem perditam ! etiam noctes certarum mulie- rum, atque adulescentulorum nobilium introductiones noanullis judicibus pxx> mercedis cumulo fuerunt." — Ad Atticum, i. 16. Conquest of Lusitania, 175 Cicero storoied in the Senate, rebuked the consul Piso, and lectured Clodius in a speech which, he him- self admired exceedingly. The " pretty boy " in re- ply taunted Cicero with ^wishing to make himself a king. Cicero rejoined with asking Clodius about a man named " King," whose estates he had appropri- ated, and reminded him of a misadventure among the pirates, from which he had come off with nameless ig-nominy. Neither antaeronist very honor- B G. 61. ably distinguished himself in this encounter of wit. The Senate voted at last for an inquiry into the judges' conduct ; but an inquiry only added to Cicero's vexation, for his special triumph had been. as he conceived, the union of the Senate with the Equites ; and the Equites took the resolution as di- rected against themselves, and refused to be consoled.^ Caesar had been absent during these scenes. His term of office having expired, he had been dispatched as pro-praetor to Spain, where the ashes of the Ser- torian rebellion were still smouldering ; and he had started for his province while the question of Clodius's trial was still pending. Portugal and Gallicia were still unsubdued. Bands of robbers lay everywhere in the fastnesses of the mountain ranges. Caesar was already favorably known in Spain for his service as quaestor. He now completed the conquest of the Pe- ninsula. He put down the banditti. He reorganized the administration with the rapid skill which always ^ "Nos hie in republic^ infirma, miseracomniutabilique versamur. Credo enim te audisse, nostros equites ptene a senatu esse disjuiictos; quiprimiim illud valde gravitor tulerunt, promulgatum ex senatus consulto fiiisse, ut de lis, qui ob judicandum pecuniam accepissent quaereretur. Qua in re dccernenda cum ego casu non affuissem, sensissemque id equestrem ordi- nem forre moleste, ncque aperte dicere; objurgavi senatum, ut milii v.sup f.um, summa cum auctoritate, et m causa non verecunda admodum pavig et copiosus fui." — To Alticus^ i. 17. 176 Ccesar. so remarkably distinguished him. He sent home large sums of money to the treasury. His work was done quickly, but it was done completely. He no- where left an unsound spot unprobed. He never contented himself with the superficial healing of a wound which would break out again when he was gone. What he began he finished, and left it in need of no further surgery. As his reward, he looked for a triumph and the consulship, one or both ; and the consulship he knew could not well be refused to him, unwelcome as it would be to the Senate. Pompey meanwhile was at last coming back. All lesser luminaries shone faint before the sun of Pom- pey, the subduer of the pirates, the conqueror of Asia, the glory of the Roman name. Even Cicero had feared that the fame of the saviour of his country might pale before the lustre of the great Pompey. " I used to be in alarm," he confessed with naive sim- plicity, '' that six hundred years hence the merits of Sampsiceramus ^ might seem to have been more than mine." ^ But how would Pompey appear ? Would he come at the head of his army, like Sylla, the armed soldier of the democracy, to avenge the affront apon his officers, to reform the State, to punish the Senate for the murder of the Catiline conspirators? Pompey had no such views, and no capacity for such ambitious operations. The ground had been pre- pared beforehand. The Mucia story had perhaps done its work, and the Senate and the great com- mander were willing to meet each other, at least with outward friendliness. 1 A nickname undei which Cicero often speaks of Pompey. 2 "Solebat enim me pungere, ne Sampsicerami merita m patriam ad 4iiiiQ8 DC Miijoia videreutur, quam nostra." — To Atticus, ii, 17. ^1 Pompey^s Return. 177 His successes had been brilliant ; but they were due ratl.er to his honesty than to his military geniug. He had encountered no real resistance, and Cato had sneered at his exploits as victories over women. He had put down the buccaneers, because he had refused to be bribed by them. He had overthrown Mithri- dates and had annexed Asia Minor and Syria to the Roman dominions. Lucullus could have done it as easily as his successor, if he could have turned his back upon temptations to increase his own fortune or gratify his own passions. The wealth of the East had lain at Pompey's feet, and he had not touched it. He had brought millions into the treasury. He re- turned, as he had gone out, himself moderately pro- vided for, and had added nothing to his private in- come. He understood, and practised strictly, the common rules of morality. He detested dishonesty and injustice. But he had no political insight ; and if he was ambitious, it was with the innocent vanity which desires, and is content with, admiration. In the time of the Scipios he would have lived in an at- mosphere of universal applause, and would have died in honor with an unblemished name. In the age of Clodius and Catiline he was the easy dupe of men of stronger intellect than his own, who played upon his unsuspicious integrity. His delay in coming back had arisen chiefly from anxiety for his personal safety. He was eager to be reconciled to the Senate, yet with- out deserting the people. While in Asia, he had re- assured Cicero that nothing was to be feared fiom him.^ His hope was to find friends on all sides and in all parties, and he thought that he had deserved iheir friendship. A "Pompeius nobis amicisginius esse constat." — To Atticus, I 12. 12 178 Cmar. Thris V7hen Pompey landed at Brindisi his dreaded December legioiis were disbaiided, and he proceeded to B. c. 62. ^^Q Capitol, with a train of captive princes as the symbols of his victories, and wagons loaded witli treasure as an offering to his country. He was received as he advanced with the shouts of applaud- ing multitades. He entered Rome in a galaxy of glory. A splendid column commemorated the cities which he had taken, the twelve million human beings whom he nad slain or subjected. His triumph was the m.os^. magnificent which the Roman citizens had ever witnessed, and by special vote he was permitted to wear his triumphal robe in the Senate as often and as long as might please him. The fireworks over, and with the aureole of glory about his brow, the great Pompey. like another Samson shorn of his locks, dropped into impotence and insignificance. In Feb- ruary 61, during the debate on the Clodius afliair. he made his first speech in the Senate. Cicero, listening with malicious satisfaction, reported that " Pompev gave no pleasure to the wretched ; to the bad he seemed without back-bone ; he was not agreeable to the well-to-do ; the wise and good found him wanting in substance ; " ^ in short, the speech was a failure. Pompey applied for a second consul- ship. He was reminded that he had been consul eight years previously, and that the ten years' inter- val prescribed by Sylla, between the first and the sec- ond term, had not expired. He asked for lands for his soldiers, and for the ratification of his acts in Asia. Cato opposed the first request, as likely to lead to an- other Agrarian law. Lucullus, who was jealous of i *' Noil jiicLinda mise-'is, inanis improbis, beatis non grata, bonis noa graris. Itaque frigebat." — Ti AtticuSy i. 14-. State of the Commonwealth. 179 him, raised difficulties about the second, and thwarted him with continual delays. Pompey, being a poor speaker, thus found himself entirely helpless in the new field. Cicero, being re- lieved of fear from him as a rival, was wise enough to see that the collapse might not continue, and that his real qualities might again bring him to the front. The Clodius business had been a frightful scandal, and, smooth as the surface might seem, ugly cracks were opening all round the constitution. The dis- banded legions were impatient for their farms. The knights, who were already offended with the Senate for having thrown the disgrace of the Clodius trial upon them, had a fresh and more substantial griev- ance. The leaders of the order had contracted to farm the revenues in Asia. They found that the terms which they liad offered were too high, and they claimed an abatement, which the Senate refused to allow. The Catiline conspiracy should have taught the necessity of a vigorous administration. Caecilius Metellus and Lucius Afranius, who had been chosen consuls for the year 60, were mere nothings. February i, Metellus was a vacant aristocrat,^ to be de- ^' ^- ^^' pended on for resisting popular demands, but without insight otherwise ; the second, Afranius, was a person "on whom only a philosopher could look without a groan ; " ^ and one year more might witness the con- sulship of Caesar. "I have not a friend," Cicero wrote, ''to whom I can express my real thoughts. Things cannot long stand as they are. I have been vehement: I have put out all my strength in the 1 '* Metellus non homo, sed litus atqiie aer, et solitudo mera." — To Atti- cs, i. 18. 2 " Consul est inpositus is nobis, queni nemo, praeter no8 phiJosophotf Mpicere sine suspir itu potest.'^ — lb. 180 Ccesar. hope of mending matters and healing our disorders, but we will not endure the necessary medicine. The seat of justice has been publicly debauched. Resolu- tions are introduced against corruption, but no law can be carried. The knights are alienated. The Sen- ate has lost its authority. The concord of the ordeiB is gone, and the pillars of the Commonwealth which I set up are overthrown. We have not a statesman, or the shadow of one. My friend Pompey, who might have done something, sits silent, admiring his fine clothes.^ Crassus will say nothing to make himself unpopular, and the rest are such idiots as to hope that although the constitution fall they will save their own fish-ponds. 2 Cato, the best man that we have, is more honest than wise. For these three months he has been worrying the revenue farmers, and will not let the Senate satisfy them." ^ It was time for Cicero to 4ook about him. The Catiline affair was not forgotten. He might still be called to answer for the executions, and he felt that he required some stronger support than an aristocracy who would learn nothing and seemed to be bent on destroying themselves. In letter after letter he pours out his contempt for his friends " of the fish-ponds," as he called them, who would neither mend B. G. 60. _ . _ ' _ ^ _ -.-. their ways nor let others mend them. He would not desert them altogether, but he provided for contingencies. The tribunes had taken up the cause of Pompey 's legionaries. Agrarian laws were 1 ^'Pompeiiis togulam illam pictam Bilentio tuetur suam." — lb. The p:3ta togula" means the triumphal robe which Pompey was allowed to wear. ^ ■' Ceteros jam nosti; qui ita sunt stulti, ut amiss^ republica piscinas suai fore salvas sperare videantur." — Tb. « lb. i. 18, abridged. Cicero and Pompey. 181 threatened, and Poinpey himself was most eager to Bee his soldiers satisfied. Cicero, who had hitherto opposed an Agrarian law with all his violence, dis- covered now that something might be said in favor of draining " the sink of the city," ^ and repeopling Italy. Besides the public advantage, he felt that he would please the mortified but still popular Pompey ; and he lent his help in the Senate to improving a bill introduced by the tribunes, and endeavoring, though unsuccessfully, to push it through. So grateful was Pompey for Cicero's support, that he called him, in the Senate, '' the saviour of the world." 2 Cicero was delighted with the phrase, and began to look to Pompey as a convenient ally. He thought that he could control and guide him and use his popularity for moderate measures. Nay, even in his despair of the aristocracy, he began to regard as not impossible a coalition with Caesar. " You cau- tion me about Pompey," he wrote to Atticus in the following July. " Do not suppose that I j^^^^ ^ ^ am attaching myself to him for my own ^^* protection ; but the state of things is such, that if we two disagree the worst misfortunes may be feared. I make no concessions to him, I seek to make him bet- ter, and to cure him of his popular levity ; and now he speaks more highly by far of my actions than of his own. He has merely done well, he says, while I have saved the State. However this may aft'ect me, it is certainly good for the Commonwealth. What if I can make Caesar better also, who is now coming on 1 *'Sentinam urbis,'* a worse word than he had blamed in Rullus three years before. — To Atticus^ i. 19. 2 '* Pompeium adduxi in earn voluntatem, ut in Senatu non semel, se(? Mepe, multisque verbis, hujus mihi salutera imperii atque orbis terrarum tdjudicarit." — lb. 182 CcBsar. witli wind and tide ? Will that be so bad a thing? Even if I had no enemies, if I was supported as uni- versally as I ought to be, still a medicine which wiU cure the diseased parts of the State is better than the surgery which would amputate them. TLo knights have fallen off from the Senate. The nol Is lords think they are in heaven when they have bar- bel in their ponds that will eat out of their hands, and they leave the rest to fate. You cannot love Cato more than I love him, but he does harm with the best intentions. He speaks as if he was in Plato's Republic, instead of being in the dregs of that of Romulus. Most true that corrupt judges ought to be punished ! Cato proposed it, the Senate agreed ; but the knights have declared war upon the Senate. Most insolent of the revenue farmers to throw up their contract ! Cato resisted them, and carried his point ; but now when seditions break out, the knights will not lift a fiuger to repress them. Are we to hire mercenaries ? Are we to depend on our slaves and freedmen ? . . , . But enough." ^ Cicero might well despair of a Senate who had taken Cato to lead them. Pompey had come home in the best of dispositions. The Senate had offended Pompey, and, more than that, had offended his le- gionaries. They had quarrelled with the knights. They had quarrelled with the moneyed interests. They now added an entirely gratuitous affront to Caesar. His Spanish administration was admitted by every one to have been admirable. He was coming to stand for the consulship, which could not be re- fused; but he asked for a triumph also, and as the rule stood there was a difficulty, for if he was to have 1 To AtticuSj ii. 1, abridged. Ccesar stands for the Consulship, 183 a triumph, he must remain outside the walls till the day fixed for it, and if he was a candidate for office, he must be present in person on the day of October the election. The custom, though conven- ^•^•^• lent in itself, had been more than once set aside. Caesar applied to the Senate for a dispensation, which would enable him to hem candidate in his absence ; and Cato, either from mere dislike of Caesar, or from a hope that he might prefer vanity to ambition, and that the dreaded consulship might be escaped, per- suaded the Senate to refuse. If this was the expec- tation, it was disappointed. Caesar dropped his tri- umph, came home, and went through the usual forms, and it at once appeared that his election was certain, and that every powerful influence in the State was combined in his favor. From Pompey he met the warmest reception. The Mucia bubble had burst. Pompey saw in C^sar only the friend who had stood by him in every step of his later career, and had braved the fury of the Senate at the side of his offi- cer Metellus Nepos. Equally certain it was, that Caesar, as a soldier, would interest himself for Pom- pey's legionaries, and that they could be mutually useful to each other. Caesar had the people at his back, and Pompey had the army. The third great power in Rome was that of the capitalists, and about the attitude of these there was at first some uncer- tainty. Crassus, who was the impersonation of them, was a friend of Caesar, but had been on bad terms with Pompey. Caesar, however, contrived to recon- cile them ; and thus all parties outside the patrician circle were combined for a common purpose. Could Cicero have taken his place frankly at their side, as hiB better knowledge told him to do, the inevitable 184 Coe%ar. revolution might have been accomplished without bloodshed, and the course of historj^ have been dif- ferent. Caesar wished it. But it was not so to be. Cicero perhaps found that he would have to be con- tent with a humbler position than he had anticipated^ that in such a combination he would have to follow rather than to lead. He was tempted. He saw a promise of peace, safety, influence, if not absolute, NoTember 1^^ Considerable. But he could not bring B. c. 60. himself to sacrifice the proud position which he had won for himself in his consulship, as leader of the Conservatives; and he still hoped to reign in the Senate, while using the protection of the popular chiefs as a shelter in time of storms. Caesar was chosen consul without opposition. His party was so powerful that it seemed at one time as if he could name his colleague, but the Senate suc- ceeded with desperate efforts in securing the second place. They subscribed money profusely, the im- maculate Cato prominent among them. The ma- chinery of corruption was well in order. The great nobles commanded the votes of their clientele^ and they succeeded in giving Csesar the same companion who had accompanied him through the gedileship and the prsetorship, Marcus Bibulus, a dull, obstinate fool, who could be relied on, if for nothing else, yet for dogged resistance to every step which the Senate disapproved. For the moment they appeared to have thought that with Bibulus's help they might defy Caesar, and reduce his office to a nullity. Immedi- ately on the election of the consuls, it was tjsual to determine the provinces to which they were to be appointed when their consulate should expire. The regulation lay with the Senate, and, either in mere OcBsars Co7isulsh{jp, 185 Bpleen or to prevent Caesar from having the command of an army, they allotted him the department of the '' Woods and Forests." ^ A very few weeks had to pass before they discovered that they had to do with a man who was not to be turned aside so slightingly. Hitherto Csesar had been feared and hated, but hia powers were rather suspected than under- . B C 60 stood. As the nephew of Marius and the son-in-law of Cinna, he was the natural chief of the party which had once governed Rome, and had been trampled under the hoof of Sylla. He had shown on many occasions that he had inherited his uncle's principles, and could be daring and skilful in assert- ing them. But he had held carefully within the con- stitutional lines ; he had kept himself clear of con- spiracies ; he had never, like the Gracchi, put himself forward as a tribune or attempted the part of a pop- ular agitator. When he had exerted himself in the political world of Rome, it had been to maintain the law against violence, to resist and punish encroach- ments of arbitrary power, or to rescue the Empire from being gambled away by incapable or profligate aristocrats. Thus he had gathered for himself the animosity of the fashionable upper classes and the confidence of the body of the people. But what he would do in power, or what it was in him to do, was as yet merely conjectural. At all events, after an interval of a generation, i'jere was again a popular consul, and on every side there was a harvest of iniquities ready for the sickle. Sixty years had passed since the death of the younger Gracchus ; revolution after revolution had swept over the Commonwealth, and Italy was still as Tiberius i Silva callesque — to which '* woods and forests " is a near equivalent 186 Coesar. Gracchus had founJ it. The Gracchan colonists had disappeared. The Syllan military proprietors had disappeared — one by one they had fallen to beg- gary, and had sold their holdings, and again the coun- try was parcelled into enormous estates cultivated by slave gangs. The Italians had been emancipated, but the process had gone no further. The libertini, the sons of the freedmen, still waited for equality of rights. The rich and prosperous provinces beyond the Po remained unenfranchised, while the value of the franchise itself was daily diminishing as the Sen- ate resumed its control over the initiative of legisla- tion. Each year the elections became more corrupt. The Clodius judgment had been the most frightful instance which had yet occurred of the de- B. C. 59. . . . . ' ' ' • pravity of the law courts ; while, by Cicero's own admission, not a single measure could pass be- yond discussion into act which threatened the inter- ests of the oligarchy. The consulship of Caesar was looked to with hope from the respectable part of the citizens, with alarm from the high-born delinquents as a period of genuine reform. The new consuls were to enter office on the 1st of January. In De- cember it was known that an Agrarian law would be at once proposed under plea of providing for Pom- pey's troops ; and Cicero had to decide whether he would act in earnest in the spirit which he had be- gun to show when the tribunes' bill was under dis- cussion, or would fall back upon resistance with the rest of his party, or evade the difficult dilemma by going on foreign service, or else would simply ab- sent himself from Rome while the struggle was going on. " I may either resist," he said, " and there will be an honorable fight ; or I may do nothing, and Uneasiness of Oicero. 187 withdraw into the country, which will be honorable also ; or I may give active help, which I am told Caesar expects of me. His friend, Cornelius Balbus, who was with me lately, affirms that Caesar will be guided in everything by my advice and Pompey's, and will use his endeavor to bring Pompey and Cras- sus together. Such a course has its advantages; it will draw me closely to Pompey and, if I please, to Csesar. I shall have no more to fear from my en- emies. I shall be at peace with the people. I can look to quiet in my old age. But the lines still move me which conclude the third book (of my Poem on my consulship) : ' Hold to the track on which thou enteredst in thy early youth, which thou pursuedst as consul so valorously and bravely. Increase thy fame, and seek the praise of the good.' " ^ It had been proposed to send Cicero on a mission to Egypt. '' I should like well, and I have long wished," he said, "to see Alexandria and the rest of that country. They have had enough of me here at present, and they may wish for me when I am away. But to go now, and to go on commission from Cgesar and Pompey ! I should blush To face the men and long-robed dames of Troy.^ What will our Optimates say, if we have any Opti- mates left ? Polydamas will throw in my teeth that I have been bribed by the Opposition — I mean Cato, who is one out of a hundred thousand to me. What will history say of me six hundred years hence ? ( ^ " Interea cursus, quos prima a parte juvento), Quosque ideo consul virtute animoque petisti, Hos retine atque auge faniam laudesque bonorum.^' To Atticus, /!. 8. • liiady vi. 442. Lord Derby's translation. 188 Ccesar. am more afraid of that than of the chatter of my con- temporaries." ^ So Cicero meditated, thinking as usual of himself first and of his duty afterwards — the fatalest of all oourses then and always. 1 To AUiimj .. ^ CHAPTER XIII. The consulship of Caesar ^as the last chance for the Roman aristocracy. He was not a rey- . "^ B. C. 59. olutionist. Revolutions are the last des- perate remedy when all else has failed. They may create as many evils as they cure, and wise men al- ways hate them. But if revolution was to be es- caped, reform was inevitable, and it was for the Senate to choose between the alternatives. Could the noble lords have known, then, in that their day, the things that belonged to their peace — could they have forgotten their fish-ponds and their game pre- serves, and have remembered that, as the rulers of the civilized world, they had duties which the eternal order of nature would exact at their hands, the shaken constitution might again have regained its stability, and the forms and even the reality of the Republic might have continued for another century. It was not to be. Had the Senate been capable of using the opportunity, they would long before have undertaken a reformation for themselves. Even had their eyes been opened, there were disintegrating forces at work which the highest political wisdom could do no more than arrest ; and little good is really effected by pro- longing artificially the lives of either constitutions or individuals beyond their natural period. From the time when Rome became an Empire, mistress of provinces to which she was unable to extend her own liberties, the days of her self-* government were num- 190 Ccesai\ bered. A homogeneous and vigorous people may manage their own affairs under a popular constitu- tion so long as their personal characters remain un- degenerate. Parliaments and Senates may represent the general will of the communifcj^ and may pass laws and administer them as public sentiment ap- proves. But such bodies can preside successfully only among subjects who are directly represented in them. They are too ignorant, too selfish, too divided, to govern others ; and Imperial aspirations draw after them, by obvious necessity, an Imperial rule. Csesar may have known this in his heart, yet the most far-seeing statesman will not so trust his own misgivings as to refuse to hope for the regeneration of the institutions into which he is born. He will determine that justice -shall be done. Justice is the essence of government, and without justice all forms, democratic or monarchic, are tyrannies alike. But he will work with the existing methods till the in- _ adequacy of them has been proved beyond dispute. Jpl Constitutions are never overthrown till they have pronounced sentence on themselves. Csesar accordingly commenced office by an en- deavor to conciliate. The army and the moneyed interests, represented by Pompey and Crassus, were already with him ; and he used his endeavors, as has been seen, to gain Cicero, who might bring with him such part of the landed aristocracy as were not hope- lessly incorrigible. With Cicero he but partially succeeded. The gieat orator solved the problem of the situation by going away into the country and remaining there for the greater part of the year, and Caesar had to do without an assistance which, in the Bpeaking department, would have been invaluable \A I II An Agrainan Law, 191 hum. His first step was to order the publication of the "Acta Diiirna," a daily journal of the doings of the Senate. The light of day being thrown in upon that august body might prevent honorable members from laying hands on each other as they had lately done, and might enable the people to know what was going on among them — on a better authority than rumor. He then introduced his Agrarian law, the rough draft of which had been ah^eady discussed, and had been supported by Cicero in the preceding year. Had he meant to be defiant, like the Gracchi, he might have offered it at once to the people. Instead of doing so, he laid it before the Senate, inviting them to amend his suggestions, and promising any reasonable concessions if they would cooperate. No wrong was to be done to any existing occupiers. No right of property was to be violated which was any real right at all. Large tracts in Campania which belonged to the State were now held on the usual easy terms by great landed patricians. These Cassar proposed to buy out, and to settle on the ground twenty thousand of Pompey's veterans. There was money enough and to spare in the treasury, which they had themselves brought home. Out of the large funds which would still remain, land might be pur- chased in other parts of Italy for the rest, and for a tew thousand of the unemployed population which was crowded into Rome. The measure in itself was admitted to be a moderate one. Every pains had been taken to spare the interests and to avoid hurt- ing the susceptibilities of the aristocrats. But, as Cicero said, the very name of an Agrarian law was intolerable to them. It meant in the end spoliation and division of property, and the first step would 192 Ocesar. bring others after it. The public lands they had shared conveniently among theroselves from imme- morial time. The public treasure was their treas- ure, to be laid out as they might think proper. Cato headed the opposition. He stormed for an entire day, and was so violent that Caesar threatened him with arrest. The Senate groaned and foamed ; no progress was made or was likely to be made ; and Caesar, as much in earnest as they were, had to tell them that if they would not help him, he must ap- peal to the assembly. '^ I invited you to revise the law," he said ; " I was willing that if any clause dis- pleased you it should be expunged. You will not touch it. Well then, the people must decide." The Senate had made up their minds to fight the .battle. If Caesar went to the assembly, Bibulus, their second consul, might stop the proceedings. If this seemed too extreme a step, custom provided other im- pediments to which recourse might be had. Bibulus might survey the heavens, watch the birds, or the clouds, or the direction of the wind, and declare the aspects unfavorable ; or he might proclaim day after day to be holy, and on holy days no legislation was permitted. Should these religious cobwebs be brushed away, the Senate had provided a further resource in three of the tribunes whom they had bribed. Thus they held themselves secure, and dared Caesar to do his worst. Caesar on his side was equally determined. The assembly was convoked. The Forum was choked to overflowing. Caesar and Pompey stood on the steps of the Temple of Castor, and Bibulus and his tribunes were at hand ready with tlieir interpellations. Such passions had not been roused in Rome since tlie days of Cin,Ma and Octavius, and many a \oung lord Scene in the Forum. 193 was doubtless hoping that the day would not close without another lesson to ambitious demagogues and howling mobs. In their eyes the one reform which Rome needed was another Sylla. Caesar read his law from the tablet on which it was inscribed ; and, still courteous to his antagonist, he turned to Bibulus and asked him if he had any fault to find. Bibulus said sullenly that he wanted no 1 evolutions, and that while he was consul there should be none. The people hissed ; and he then added in a rage, '' You shall not have your law this year though every man of you demand it." Caesar answered nothing, but Pompey and Crassus stood forward. They were not officials, but they were real forces. Pompey was the idol of every soldier in the State, and at Caesar's invitation he addressed the assembly. He spoke for his veterans. He spoke for the poor citi- zens. He said that he approved the law to the last letter of it. " Will you then," asked Caesar, '^ support the law if it be illegally opposed ? " '' Since," replied Pom- pey, "you consul, and you my fellow citizens, ask aid of me, a poor individual without office and without authority, who nevertheless has done some service to the State, I say that I will bear the shield, if others draw the sword." Applause rang out from a hun- dred thousand throats. Crassus followed to the same purpose, and was received with the same wild delighte A few senators, who retained their senses, saw the uselessness of the opposition, and retired. Bibulus was of duller and tougher metal. As the vote was about to be taken, he and his tribunes rushed to the rostra. The tribunes pronounced their veto. Bibu- liw said that he had consulted the sky ; the gods for- 194 Coesar. bade further action being taken that day, and he de- clared the assembly dissolved. Nay, as if a man like Csesar could be stopped by a shadow, he proposed to sanctify the whole remainder of the year, that no mrther business might be transacted in it. Yells drowned his voice. The mob rushed upon the steps \ Bibulus was thrown down, and the rods of the lictcra were broken ; the tribunes who had betrayed their order were beaten. Cato held his ground, and stormed at Caesar, till he was led off by the police, ^aving and gesticulating. The law was then passed, and a resolution besides, that every senator should take an oath to obey it. So in ignominy the Senate's resistance collapsed : the Caesar whom they had thought to put off with tlieir '' woods and forests," had proved stronger than the whole of them ; and, prostrate at the first round '^f the battle, they did not attempt another. They met the following morning. Bibulus told his story, and appealed for support. Had the Senate complied, iJaey would probably have ceased to exist. The oath was unpalatable, but they made the best of it. Me- tullus Celer, Cato, and Favonius, a senator whom men flailed Cato's ape, struggled against their fate, but *^ swearing they would ne'er consent, consented. ' The unwelcome formula was swallowed by the whole of them ; and Bibulus, who had done his part and had l)een beaten and kicked and trampled upon, and now found his employers afraid to stand by him, went off sulkily to his house, shut himself up there, and refused to act as consul further during the remainder of the year. There was no further active opposition. A com mission was appointed by Caesar to carry out the Land The '' Leges Julicer 195 act, composed of twenty of the best men that could be found, one of them being Atius Balbus, the hus- band of Caesar's only sister, and grandfather of a little child now three years old^ who was known after- wards to the world as Augustus. Cicero was offered a place, but declined. The land question having been disposed of, Caesar then proceeded with the remain- ing measures by which his consulship was immortal- ized. He had redeemed his promise to Pompey by providing for his soldiers. He gratified Crassus by giving the desired relief to the farmers of the taxes. He confirmed Pompey's arrangements for the govern- ment of Asia, which the Senate had left in suspense. The Senate was now itself suspended. The consul acted directly with the assembly, without obstruction, and without remonstrance, Bibulus only from time to time sending out monotonous admonitions from within doors that the season was consecrated, and that Cae- sar's acts had no validity. Still more remarkably, Hud as the distinguishing feature of his term of office, Caesar carried, with the help of the people, the bodj of admirable laws which are known to jurists as the '' Leges Juliae," and mark an epoch in Roman history. They were laws as unwelcome to the aristocracy as they were essential to the continued existence of the Roman State, laws which had been talked of in the Senate, but which could nefor pass through the pre- liminary stage of resolutioi)3, and were now enacted over the Senate's head by the will of Caesar and the sovereign power of the nation. A mere outline can ah)ne be attempted here. There was a law declaring the inviolability of the persons of magistrates during their term of authority, reflecting back on the mur- dei of Saturninus, and touching by implication the 196 Ccesar. killing of Lentulus and bis companions. There was a law for the punishment of adultery, most disinter- estedly'' singular if the popular accounts of Cassar'a habits had any grain of truth in them. There were laws for the protection of the subject from violence, public or private ; and lawrj disabling persons who had laid hands illegally on Roman citizens from hold- ing office in the Commonwealth. There was a law, intended at last to be effective, to deal with judges who allowed themselves to be bribed. There were laws against defrauders of the revenue ; laws against debasing the coin ; laws against sacrilege ; laws against corrupt State contracts ; laws against bribery at elections. Finally, there was a law, carefully framed, De repetundis^ to exact retribution from pro- consuls, or pro-prsetors of the type of Verres who had plundered the provinces. All governors were re- quired, on relinquishing office, to make a double re- turn of their accounts, one to remain for inspection among the archives of the province, and one to be sent to Rome ; and where peculation or injustice could be proved, the offender's estate was made an- swerable to the last sesterce.^ Such laws were words only without the will to ex- ecute them ; but they affirmed the principles on which Roman or any other society could alone continue. It was for the officials of the constitution to adopt them, and save themselves and the Republic, or to ignore them as they had ignored the. laws which already ex- isted, and see it perish as it deserved. All that man could do foi the preservation of his country from res- olution Cassar had accomplished. Sylla had reestab- 1 See a list of the Leges Juliae in the 48th Book of the Corpus Jurii Ci fills. 1 V'd& ■I The '' Leges Julicer 197 lished the rule of the aristocracy, and it had failed grossly and disgracefully. Cinna and Marius had tried democracy, and that had failed. Csesar was trying what law would do, and the result remained to be seen. BiVmlus, as each measure was passed, croaked that it was null and void. The leaders of the Senate threatened between their teeth that all should be undone when Caesar's term was over. Cato, when he mentioned the '' Leges Julias," spoke of them as enactments, but refused them their author's name. But the excellence of these laws was so clearly recognized that they survived the irregularity of their introduction ; and the *' Lex de Repetundis" especially remained a terror to evil-doers, with a prom- ise of better days to the miserable and pillaged sub- jects of the Roman Empire. So the year of Caesar's consulship passed away. What was to happen when it had expired ? The Senate had provided '' the woods and forests " for him. But the Senate's provision in such a matter could not be expected to hold. He a.sked for noth- ing, but he was known to desire an opportunity of distinguished service. Caesar was now forty-three. His life was ebbing away, and, with the exception of his two years in Spain, it had been spent in strug- gling with the base elements of Roman faction. Great men will bear such sordid work when it is laid on them, but they loathe it notwithstanding, and for the present there was nothing more to be done. A new point of departure had been taken. Principles nad been laid down for the Senate and people to act on, if they could and would. Caesar could only wish tor a long absence in some new sphere of usefulness, where he could achieve something really great which his country would remember. 198 Ccesar. ■ And on one side only was sucli a sphere open to him. The East was Roman to the Euphrates. No second Mithridates could loosen the grasp with which the legions now held the civilized parts of Asia. Par- ■{ thians might disturb the frontier, but could not seri- ously threaten the Eastern dominions ; and no advan- tage was promised by following on the steps of Alexander, and annexing countries too poor to bear the cost of their maintenance. To the west it was different. Beyond the Alps there was still a territory of unknown extent, stretching away to the undefined ocean, a territory peopled with warlike races, some of whom in ages long past had swept over Italy and taken Rome, and had left their descendants and their name in the northern province, which was now called Cisalpine Gaul. With these races the Romans had as yet no clear relations, and from them alone could any serious danger threaten the State. The Gauls? had for some centuries ceased their wanderings, had settled down in fixed localities. They had built town^. and bridges ; they had cultivated the soil, and had become wealthy and partly civilized. With the tribes adjoining Provence the Romans had alliances more or less precarious, and had established a kind of pro- tectorate over them. But even here the inhabitants were uneasy for their independence, and troubles were continually arising with them ; while into these dis- tricts and into the rest of Gaul a fresh and stormy element was now being introduced. In earlier times the Gauls had been stronger than the Germans, and not only could they protect their own frontier, but ihey had formed settlements beyond the Rhine. These relations were being changed. The Gauls, aa they grew in wealth, declined in vigor. The Ger- State of GrauL 199 mans, still roving and migratory, were throwing cov- etous eyes out of their forests on the fields and vine- yards of their neighbors, and enormous numbers of them were crossing the Rhine and Danube, looking for new homes. How feeble a barrier either the Alps, or the Gauls themselves, might prove against such invaders, had been but too recently experienced. Men who were of middle age at the time of Caesar's consulship, could still remember the terrors which had been caused by the invasion of the Cimbri and Teu- tons. Marius had saved Italy then from destruction, as it were, by the hair of its head. The annihilation of those hordes had given Rome a passing respite. But fresh generations had grown up. Fresh multi- tudes were streaming out of the North, Germans in hundreds of thousands were again passing the Upper Rhine, rooting themselves in Burgundy, and coming in collision with tribes which Rome protected. There were une^i.sy movements among the Gauls themselves, whole nations of them breaking up from their homes and again adrift upon the world. Gaul and Germany were like a volcano giving signs of approaching erup- tion ; and, at any moment and hardly with warning, another lava stream might be pouring down into Venetia and Lombardy. To deal with this danger was the work marked out for Csesar. It is the fashion to say that he sought a military command that he might have an army be- hind him to overthrow the constitution. If this was his object, ambition never chose a more dangerous or less promising route for himself. Men of genius who accomplish great things in this world do not trouble themselves with remote and visionary aims. They encounter emergencies as they rise, and leave 200 Qcesar, the future to shape itself as it may. It would seem that at first the defence of Italy was all that was thought of. '' The woods and forests " were set aside, and Csesar, by a vote of the people, was given the command of Cisalpine Gaul and Illyria for five years ; but either he himself desired, or especial circum- stances which were taking place beyond the rcLOunt* ains recommended, that a wider scope should be al- lowed him. The Senate, finding that the people would act without them if they hesitated, gave him in addition Gallia Comata, the land of the Gauls with the long hair, the governorship of the Roman prov- ince beyond the Alps, with untrammelled liberty to act as he might think good, throughout the country which is now known as France and Switzerland and the Rhine provinces of Germany. He was to start early in the approaching year. It was necessary before he went to make some provision for the quiet government of the capital. The alliance with Pompey and Crassus gave temporary security. Pompey had less stability of character than could have been wished, but he became attached to Cae- sar's daughter Julia; and a fresh link of marriage was formed to hold them together. Caesar himself married Calpurnia, the daughter of Calpurnius Piso. The Senate having temporarily abdicated, he was able to guide the elections ; and Piso, and Pompey 's friend Gabinius, who had obtained the command of the pirate war for him, were chosen consuls for the year 68. Neither of them, if we can believe a tithe of Cicero's invective, was good for much ; but they were staunch partisans and were to be relied on to re- sist any efforts which might be made to repeal the *' Leges Juliae." These matters being arranged, and Cicero^s Orievan^ts, 201 his own term having expired, Caesar withdrew, ac- cording to custom, to the suburbs beyond the walls to collect troops and prepare for his departure. Strange things, however, had yet to happen before he was gone. It is easy to conceive how the Senate felt at these transactions, how ill they bore to find theni- B. C. 58 *^ selves superseded, and the State managed over their heads. Fashionable society was equally furious, and the three allies went by the name of Dynasts, or "Reges Superbi." After resistance had been abandoned, Cicero came back to Rome to make cynical remarks from which all parties suffered equally. His special grievance was the want of consideration which he conceived to have been shown for himself. He mocked at the Senate ; he mocked at Bibulus, whom he particularly abominated ; he mocked at Pompey and the Agrarian law. Mockery turned to indignation when he thought of the ingratitude of the Senate, and his chief consolation in their discomfiture was that it had fallen on them through the neglect of their most distinguished member. " I could have saved them, if they would have let me," he said. " I could save them still, if I were to try ; but I will go study philosophy in my own family." ^ '^ Freedom is gone," he wrote to Atticus ; " and if we are to be worse enslaved, we shall bear it. Our lives and properties are more to ns than liberty. We sigh, {ind we do not even remonstrate." ^ Cato, in the desperation of passion, called Pompey 1 To Atticus, ii. IG. 2 " I'enemur undique, neque jam, quo minus serviamus, recusamus, sed mortem ct ejectionem quasi majora timemus quas multo sunt minora. At- que hie status, qui una voce omnium gemitur neque verbo cujusdam sub' levatur."— fi. ii. 18. 202 Ccesar. a Dictator in the assembly, and barely escaped beiri! killed for his pains.^ The patricians revenged them- selves in private by savage speeches and plots and' purposes. Fashionable society gathered in the thea- tres, and hissed the popular leaders. Lines were in- troduced into the plays reflecting on Pompey, and were encored a thousand times. Bibulus from his closet continued to issue venomous placards, report- ing scandals about Caesar's life, and now for the jBrst time bringing up the story of Nicomedes. The streets were impassable where these papers were pasted up, from the crowds of loungers which were gathered to read them, and Bibulus for the moment was the hero of patrician saloons. Some malicious comfort Cicero gathered out of these manifestations of feeling. He had no belief in the noble lords, and small expectations from them. Bibulus was, on the whole, a fit representative for the gentry of the fish- ponds. But the Dynasts were at least heartily de- tested in quarters which had once been powerful, and might be powerful again ; and he flattered himself, though he affected to regret it, that the animosity against them was spreading. To all parties there is attached a draggled trail of disreputables, who hold *^^hemselves entitled to benefits v when their side is in power, and are angry when they are passed over. " The State," Cicero wrote in the autumn of 69 to Atticus, " is in a worse condition than when you left us; then we thought that we had fallen under a power which pleased the people, and which, though abhorrent to the good, yet was not totally destructive 1 '^ In concionem ascendit et Pompeium privatus Dictatorem appellavit Propius nihil est factum quam lit occideretur." — Cicero, Ad Quiniwm Fratrem, i. 2. Roman Factions, 203 to them. Now all hate it equally, and we are m terror as to where the exasperation may break out. We had experienced the ill-temper and irritation of those who in their anger with Cato had brought ruin on us ; but the poison worked so slowlj that it seemed we might die without pain. — I hoped, as a. often told you, that the wheel of the constitution waa so turning that we should scarcely hear a sound or see any visible track; and so it would have been, could men have waited for the tempest to pass over them. But the secret sighs turned to groans, and the groans to universal clamor ; and thus our friend Pompey, who so lately swam in glory, and never heard an evil word of himself, is broken-hearted, and knows not whither to turn. A precipice is before him, and to retreat is dangerous. The good are against him — the bad are not his friends. I could scarce help weeping the other day when I heard him com- plaining in the Forum of the publications of Bibulus. He who but a short time since bore himself so proudly there, with the people in raptures with him, and with the world on his side, was now so humble and abject as to disgust even himself, not to say his hearers. Crassus enjoyed the scene, but no one else. Pompey had fallen down out of the stars — not by a gradual descent, but in a single plunge ; and as Apelles if he had seen his Venus, or Protogenes his Talysus, all daubed with mud, would have been vexed and annoyed, so was I grieved to the very heart to see one whom I had painted out in the choicest colors of art thus suddenly defaced.^ — Pompey is sick with 1 To Atticus, ii. 21. In this comparison Cicero betra^^s his naive con- Fiction that Pompey was indebted to him and to his praises for his reputa- iion. Here, as always, Cicero was himself the centre round which all els« revolved Dr ought to revolve. 204 Ccesar, irritation at the placards of Bibulus. I am sorry about them. They give such excessive annoyance to a man whom I have always liked ; and Pompey is so prompt with his sword, and so unaccustomed to in- sult, that I fear what he may do. What the future may have in store for Bibulus I know not. At pres- ent he is the admired of all." ^ '' Sampsiceramus," Cicero wrote a few days later, " is greatly penitent. He would gladly be restored to the eminence from which he has fallen. Some- times he imparts his griefs to me, and asks me what he should do, which I cannot tell him." ^ Unfortunate Cicero, who knew what was right, but was too proud to do it ! Unfortunate Pompey, who still did what was right, but was too sensitive to bear the reproach of it, who would so gladly not leave his duty unperformed, and yet keep the '' sweet voices " whose applause had grown so delicious to him I Bibulus was in no danger. Pompey was too good- natured to hurt him ; and Cassar let fools say what they pleased, as long as they w^ere fools without teeth, who would bark but could not bite. The risk was to Cicero himself, little as he seemed to be aware of it. Caesar was to be long absent from Rome, and he knew that as soon as he was engaged in Gaul the extreme oligarchic faction would make an effort to set aside his Land commission and undo his legisla- tion. When he had a clear purpose in view, and was satisfied that it was a good purpose, he was uever scrupulous about his instruments. It was said of him that, when he wanted any work done, he chose the persons best able to do it, let their general oharacter be what it might. The rank and file of 1 To AtUcus, ii. 21. ^ /j. ji. 22. Clodius. 206 the patricians, proud, idle, vicious, and self-indulgent, might be left to their mistresses and their gaming tables. They could do no mischief, unless they had leaders at their head, who could use their repourcea more effectively than they could do themselves. Thero were two men only in Rome with whose help they could be really dangerous — Cato, because he was a fanatic, impregnable to argument, and not to be in- fluenced by temptation of advantage to himself ; Cicero, on accucmt of his extreme ability, his per- sonal ambition, and his total want of political prin- ciple. Cato he knew to be impracticable. Cicero he had tried to gain ; but Cicero, who had played a first part as consul, could not bring himself to play a second, and, if the chance offered, had both power and will to be troublesome. Some means had to be found to get rid of these two, or at least to tie their hands and so keep them in order. There would be Pompey and Crassus still at hand. But Porapey was weak, and Crassus understood nothing beyond the art of manipulating money. Gabinius and Piso, the next consuls, had an indifferent reputation and narrow abilities, and at best they would have but their one year of authority. Politics, like love, make strange bedfellows. In this difficulty accident threw n Caesar's way a convenient but most unexpected ally. Young Clodius, after his escape from prosecution by the marvellous methods which Crassus had pro- vided for him^ was more popular than ever. Pie had been the occasion of a scandal which had brought in- famy on the detested Senate. His offence in itself seemed slight in so loose an sge and was as nothing eompared with the enormity di his judges. He had 206 Ccesar. oome out of his trial with a determination to be re- venged on the persons from whose tongues he had suffered most severely in the senatorial debates. Of these Cato had been the most savage ; but Cicero had been the most exasperating, from his sarcasms, his airs of patronage, and perhaps his intimacy with his sister. The noble youth had exhausted the com* mon forms of pleasure. He wanted a new excite- ment, and politics and vengeance might be combined. He was as clever as he was dissolute, and, as clever men are fortunately rare in the licentious part of so- ciety, they are always idolized, because they make vice respectable by connecting it with intellect. Clo- dius was a second, an abler Catiline, equally unprin- cipled and far more dexterous and prudent. In times of revolution there is always a disreputable wing to the radical party, composed of men who are the nat- ural enemies of established authority, and these all rallied about their new leader with devout enthusi- asm. Clodius was not without political experience. His first public appearance had been as leader of a mutiny. He was already quaestor, and so a Senator; but he was too young to aspire to the higher magis- \racies which were open to him as a patrician. He declared his intention of renouncing his order, becom- ing a plebeian, and standing for the tribuneship of the people. There were precedents for such a step, but they were rare. The abdicating noble had to be adopted into a plebeian family, and the consent was required of the consuls and of the Pontifical College. With the growth of political equality the aristocracy \iad become more insistent upon the privilege of birth, which could not be taken from them ; and for a Claudius to descend among the canaille was as if a Clodius chosen Tribune. 207 Howard were to seek adoption from a shopkeeper in the Strand. At first there was universal amazement. Cieero liad used the intrigue with Pompeia as a text for a sermon on the immoralities of the age. The aspi- rations of Clodius to be a tribune he ridiculed as an ilhistration of its follies, and after scourging him in the Senate, he laughed at him and jested with him in private.^ Cicero did not understand with how venomous a snake he was playing. He even thought Clodius likely to turn against the Dynasts, and to become a serviceable member of the conservative party. Gradually he was forced to open his eyes. Speeches were reported to him as coming from Clo- dius or his allies threatening an inquiry into the death of the Catilinarians. At first he pushed his alarms aside, as unworthy of him. What had so great a man as he to fear from a young reprobate like " the pretty boy " ? The " pretty boy," how- ever, found favor where it Avas least looked for. Pompey supported his adveiiture for the tribuneship. Caesar, though it was CcCsar's house which he had violated, did not oppose. Bibulus refused consent, but Bibulus had virtually abdicated and went for nothing. The legal forms were complied with. Clo- dius found a commoner younger than himself who was willing to adopt him, and who, the day after the (.ceremony, released him from the new paternal au- thority. He was now a plebeian, and free. He re- mained a senator in virtue of his quaestorship, and he was chosen tribune of the people for the year 58. Cicero was at last startled out of his security. So long as the consuls, or one of them, could be de- 1 "Jam familiariter cum illo ctiam cavillor ac jocor.**— - To Atticus, ii. t 208 Ccesar. pended on, a tribune's power was insignificant. When the consuls were of his own way of thinking, a tribune was a very important personage indeed. Atticus was alarmed for his friend, and cautioned him to look to himself. Warnings came from all quarters that mischief was in the wiiid. Still it was impossible to believe the peril to be a real one. Cic- ero, to whom Rome owed its existence, to be struck at by a Clodius ! It could not be. As little could a wasp hurt an elephant. There can be little doubt that Caesar knew what Clodius had in his mind ; or that, if the design was not his own, he had purposely allowed it to go for- ward. Caesar did not wish to hurt Cicero. He wished w^ell to him, and admired him ; but he did not mean to leave him free in Rome to lead a sena- torial reaction. A prosecution for the execution of the prisoners was now distinctly announced. Cicero as consul had put to death Roman citizens without a trial. Cicero was to be called to answer for the il- legality before the sovereign people. The danger was unmistakable ; and Caesar, who was still in the suburbs making his preparations, invited Cicero to avoid it, by accompanying him as second in command into Gaul. The offer was made in unquestionable sincerity. Caesar may himself have created the sit- uation to lay Cicero under a pressure, but he desired notliing so much as to take him as his companion, and to attach him to himself. Cicero felt the compli- ment and hesitated to refuse, but his pride again came in his way. Pompey assured him that not a hair of his head should be touched. Why Pompey gave him this encouragement, Cicero could never afterwards understand. The scenes in the Uieatres Prosecution of' Cicero, 209 had also combined to mislead him, and he misread the disposition of the great body of citizens. He imagined that they would all start up in his defence, Senate, aristocracy, knights, commoners, and trades- mer:> The world, he thought, looked back upon liis conoulship with as much admiration as he did him- self, and was always contrasting him with his suc- cessors. Never was mistake more profound. The Senate, who had envied his talents and resented his assumption, now despised him as a trimmer. His sar- casms had made him enemies among those who acted with him politically. He had held aloof at the crisis of Cesar's election and in the debates which fol- lowed, and therefore all sides distrusted him ; while throughout the body of the people there was, as Cae- sar had foretold, a real and sustained resentment at the conduct of the Catiline affair. The final opinion of Rome was that the prisoners ought to have been tried ; and that they were not tried was attributed not unnaturally to a desire, on the part of the Sen- ate, to silence an inquiry which might have proved inconvenient. Thus suddenly out of a clear sky the thunder-clouds gathered over Cicero's head. '^ Clodius," says Dion Cassius, ''had discovered that among the senators Cicero was more feared than loved. There were few of them who had not been hit by his irony, or irri- tated by his presumption." Those who most agreed in what he had done were not ashamed to shuffle off upon him their responsibilities. Clodius, now om- nipotent with the assembly at his back, cleared the way by a really useful step ; he carried a law abolish- ng the impious form of declaring the heavens unfa- vorable Avhen an inconvenient measure was to be 14 210 Ccesar, 1 stopped or delayed. Probably it formed a part of hia engagement with Caesar. The law may have been meant to act retrospectively, to prevent a question being raised on the interpellations of Bibulus. This done, and without paying the Senate the respect of first consulting it, he gave notice that he would pro- pose a vote to the assembly, to the effect that any person who had put to death a Roman citizen without trial, and without allowing him an appeal to the peo- ple, had violated the constitution of the State. Cicero was not named directly ; every senator who had voted for the execution of Cethegus and Lentulus and their companions was as guilty as he ; but it was known immediately that Cicero was the mark that was being aimed at ; and Caesar at once renewed the offer, which he made before, to take Cicero with him. Cicero, now fi-ightened in earnest, still could not bring him- self to owe his escape to Caesar. The Senate, un- grateful as they had been, put on mourning with an affectation of dismay. The knights petitioned the consuls to interfere for Cicero's protection. The con- suls declined to receive their request. Ciesar outside the city gave no further sign. A meeting of the citi- zens was held in the camp. Caesar's opinion was in- vited. He said that he had not changed his senti- ments. He had remonstrated at the time against the execution. He disapproved of it still, but he did not directly advise legislation upon acts that were passed. Yet though he did not encourage Clodius, he did not interfere. He left the matter to the consuls, and one of them was his own father-in-law, and the other was Gabinius, once Pompey's favorite officer. Gabinius, Cicero thought, would respect Pompey's promise to him. To Piso lie made a personal appeal. He found Prosecution of Cicero. 211 liini., lie said afterwards,^ at eleven in the morning, in his slippers, at a low tavern. Piso came out, reeking with wine, and excused liimself by saying that his health required a morning draught. Cicero attempted to receive his apology ; and he stood for a while at the tavern door, till he could no longer bear the smell and the foul language and expectorations of the con- sul. Hope in that quarter there was none. Two days later the assembly was called to consider Clo- dius's proposal. Piso was asked to say what he thought of the treatment of the conspirators ; he an- swered gravely, and, as Cicero described him, with one eye in his forehead, that he disapproved of cruelty. Neither Pompey nor his friends came to help. What was Cicero to do ? Resist by force ? The young knights rallied about him eager for a fight, if he would but give the word. Sometimes as he looked back in after years he blamed himself for declining their serv- ices, sometimes he took credit to himself for refusing to be the occasion of bloodshed. ^ " I was too timid," he said once ; '' I had the coun- try with me, and I should have stood firm. I had to do with a band of villains only, with two monsters of consuls, and with the male harlot of rich buffoons, the seducer of his sister, and the high priest of adultery, a poisoner, a forger, an assassin, a thief. The best and bravest citizens implored me to stand up to him. Hut I reflected that this Fury asserted that he was supported by Pompey and Crassus and Csesar. Caesar had an army at the gates. The other two could raise sinother army when they pleased ; and when they knew that their names were thus made use of, they 1 Oratio in L. Pisonem. 2 He seems to have even thought of suicide. — To AtticuSy iii 9. 212 Ccesar, remained silent. They were alarmed perhaps, be- cause the laws which they had carried in the preced- ing year were challenged by t)ie new praetors, and were held by the Senate to be invalid ; and they w^ere unwilling to alienate a popular tribune.'' ^ And again elsewhere ; '^ When I saw that the fac- tion of Catiline was in power, that the party which I had led, some from envy of myself, some from fear for their own lives, had betrayed and deserted me ; when the two consuls had been purchased by promises of provinces, and had gone over to my enemies, and the condition of the bargain was, that I was to be delivered over, tied and bound, to my enemies ; when the Senate and knights were in mourning, but were not allowed to bring my cause before the people ; when my blood had been made the seal of the ar- rangement under which the State had been disposed of ; when I saw all this, although ' the good ' were ready to fight for me, and were willing to die for me, I would not consent, because I saw that victory or de- feat would alike bring ruin to the Commonwealth. The Senate was powerless. The Forum was ruled by violence. In such a city there was no place for me." ^ So Cicero, as he looked back afterwards, described the struggle in his own mind. His friends had then rallied ; Csesar was far away ; and he could tell his owi- story, and could pile his invectives on those who had injured him. His matchless literary power has given him exclusive command over the history of his time, His enemies' characters have been accepted from his pen as correct portraits. If we allow his description of Clodius and the two consuls to be true 1 Abridged from the Oratio pro P. Sextio. 2 Oratio post reditum ad Quirites. Banishment of Cicero. 213 to the facts, what harder condemnation can be pro- nounced against a political condition in which such men as these could be raised to the first position in the State ?^ Dion says that Cicero's resolution to yield did not wholly proceed from his own prudence, but was assisted by advice from Cato ai.-^ Hortensius the orator. Anyway, the blow fell, and he went down before the stroke. His immortal consulship, in praise of which he had written a poem, brought after it the swift retribution which Caesar had foretold. When the vote proposed by Clodius was carried, he fled to Sicily, with a tacit confession that he dared not abide his trial, which would immediately have followed. Sentence was pronounced upon him in his absence. His property was confiscated. His houses in town and country were razed. The site of his palace in Rome was dedicated to the Goddess of Liberty, and he himself was exiled. He was forbidden to reside within four hundred miles of Rome, with a threat of death if he returned ; and he retired to Macedonia, to pour out his sorrows and his resentments in lamen- tations unworthy of a woman. 1 In a letter to his brother Quintus, written at a time when he did not know the real feelings of Caesar and Pompey, and had 'supposed that he had only to deal with Clodius, Cicero announced a distinct intention of resisting by force. He expected that the whole of Italy would be at his Bide. He said: "Si diem nobis Clodius dixerit, tota Italia concurret, ut multiplicata gloria discedamus. Sin autem vi agere conabitur, spero fore, studiis non solum amicorum, sedetiam alienorum, ut vi resistamus. Omnes et se et suos liberos, amicos, clientes, libertos, servos, pecuniasdenique suaa pollicentur. Nostra antiqua nianus bonorum ardet studio nostri atque amore. Si qui antea aut alieniores f uerant, aut languidiores, nunc horum regum odio se cum bonis conjungunt. Pompeius omnia pollicetur et Caesar, de quibus ita credo, ut nihil de mea comparatione deminuam." — Ad Quin^ turn Fratreniy i. 2. CHAPTER XIV. Fbom the fermentation of Roman politics, the pan- sions of the Forum and Senate, the corrupt B C 58 tribunals, the poisoned centre of the Empire, the story passes beyond the frontier of Italy. We no longer depend for our account of Caesar on the caricatures of rival statesmen. He now becomes him- self our guide. We see him in his actions and in the picture of his personal character which he has uncon- sciously drawn. Like all real great men, he rarely speaks of himself. He tells us little or nothing of his own feelings or his o^n purposes. Cicero never forgets his individuality. In every line that he wrote Cicero was attitudinizing for posterity, or reflecting on the effect of his conduct upon his interests or his reputation. Csesar is lost in his work ; his person- ality is scarcely more visible than Shakespeare's. He was now forty-three years old. His abstemious habits had left his health unshaken. He was in the fullest vigor of mind and body, and it was well for him that his strength had not been undermined. He was going on an expedition which would make extraordinary demands upon his energies. That he had not con- templated operations so extended as those which were forced upon him is evident from the nature of his preparations. His command in Further Gaul had been an afterthought, occasioned probably by news which had been received of movements in progress there during his consulship. Of the four legions Ancient Graul. 21 D wliicb were allowed to him, one only was beyond the Alps ; three were at Aquileia. It was late in life for him to begin the trade of a soldier ; and as yet, with the exception of his early service in Asia, and a brief and limited campaign in Spain when pro-prae- tor, he had no military experience at all. His ambi- tion hitherto had not pointed in that direction ; nor is it likely that a person of so strong an understand- ing w^ould have contemplated beforehand the deliber- ate undertaking of the gigantic war into which cir- cumstances immediately forced him. Yet he must have known that he had to deal with a problem of growing difficulty. The danger to Italy from inroads across the Alps was perpetually before the minds of thoughtful Koman statesmen. Events were at that moment taking place among the Gallic tribes which gave point to the general uneasiness. And, unwilling as the Romans were to extend their frontiers and their responsibilities in a direction so unknown and so unpromising, yet some interference either by arms or by authority beyond those existing limits was be- ing pressed upon them in self-defence. The Transalpine Gaul of Caesar was the country included between the Rhine, the ocean, the Pyrenees, the Mediterranean, and the Alps. Within these lim- its, including Switzerland, there was at this time a population vaguely estimated at six or seven millions. The Roman Province stretched along the coast to the Spanish border ; it was bounded on the north by the Cevennes Mountains, and for some generations by the Is^re ; but it had been found necessary lately ^ to annex the territory of the Allobroges (Dauphin(^ and Savoy), and the proconsular authority was now ex- 1 Perhaps in consequence of the Catiline conspiracy. 216 Cmar. tended to within a few miles of Geneva. The rest was divided into three sections, inhabited by races which, if allied, were distinctly different in language, laws, and institutions. The Aquitani, who were con- nected with the Spaniards or perhaps the Basques, held the country between the Pyrenees and tlie Ga- ronne. The Belgae, whom Csesar believed to have been originally Germans, extended from the mouth of the Seine to the mouth of the Rhine, and inland to the Marne and Moselle. The people whom the Romans meant especially when they spoke of Gauls occupied all the remainder. At one time the Celts' had probably been masters of the whole of France, but had gradually yielded to encroachment. Accord- ing to the Druids, they came out of darkness, ab Dite Patre ; they called themselves Children of Night, counting time by nights, instead of days, as we say fortnight and se'nnight. Comparison of language has taught us that they were a branch of the great Aryan race, one of the first which rolled westward into Europe, before Greeks or Latins had been heard of. This once magnificent people was now in a state of change and decomposition. On Aquitaine and Belgium Roman civilization had as yet produced no effect. The severe habits of earlier generations re- mained unchanged. The Gauls proper had yielded to contact wnth the Province and to intercourse with Italian traders. They had built towns and villages. They had covered the land with farms and home- steads. They had made roads. They had bridged their rivers, even such rivers as the Rhone and the Loire. They had amassed wealth, and had adopted habits of comparative luxury, which, if it had not The Druids. 217 abated their disposition to figlit, liad diminished theit capacity for fighting. Their political and perhaps their spiritual system was passing through analogous transformations. The ancient forms remained, but an altered spirit was working under them. From the earliest antiquity they had been divided into tribes and sub-tribes : each tribe and sub-tribe being prac- tically independent, or united only by common ob- jects and a common sentiment of race. The rule was the rule of the strong, under the rudest forms of tribal organization. The chief was either hereditary or elected, or won his command by the sword. The mass of the people were serfs. The best fighters were self-made nobles, under the chief's authority. Every man in the tribe was the chief's absolute subject; the chief, in turn, was bound to protect the meanest of them against injury from without. War, on a large scale or a small, had been the occupation of their lives. The son was not admitted into his fath- er's presence till he was old enough to be a soldier. When the call to arms went out, every man of the required age was expected at the muster, and the last comer was tortured to death in the presence of his comrades as a lesson against backwardness. As the secular side of things bore a rude resem- blance to feudalism, so on the religious there was a similar anticipation of the mediaeval Catholic Church. The Druids were not a special family, like the T^e- vites, or in any way born into the priesthood. They %vere an order composed of persons selected, when young, out of the higher ranks of the community, either for speciality of intellect, or from disposition, or by the will of their parents, or from a desire to ttvoid military service, from which the Druids were 218 Ccesar. — ' exempt. There were no tribal distinctions among them. Their headquarters were in Britain, to which those who aspired to initiation in the more profound mysteries repaired for instruction ; but they were spread universally over Gau] and the British Islands. They were the ministers of public worship, the de- positaries of knowledge, and the guardians of pub- lic morality. Young men repaired to the Druida for education. They taught theology ; they taught the movements of the stars. They presided in the civil courts and determined questions of disputed in- heritance. They heard criminal cases and delivered judgment; and, as with the Church, their heaviest and most dreaded punishment was excommunication. The excommunicated person lost his civil rights. He became an outlaw from society, and he was ex- cluded from participation in the sacrifices. In the religious services the victims most acceptable to the gods were human beings — criminals, if such could be had ; if not, then innocent persons, who were burnt to death in huge towers of wicker. In the Quemadero at Seville, as in our own Smithfield, the prisoners of the Church were fastened to stakes, and the sticks with which they were consumed were tied into faggots, instead of being plaited into basket- work. So slight a difference does not materially affect the likeness. The tribal chieftainship and the religious organiza- tion of the Druids were both of them inherited from antiquity. They were institutions descending from the time when the Gauls had been a great people ; but both had outlived the age to which they were adapted, and one at least was approaching its end. To Cavsar's eye, coming new upon them, the Druids The JEduL 219 were an established fact, presenting no sign of decay, but in Gaul, infected with Roman manners, they ex- isted merely by habit, exercising no influence any longer over the hearts of the people. In the great struggle winch was approaching we find no Druids among the national leaders, no spirit of religion in- Sf)iring and consecrating the efforts of patriotism. So far as can be seen, the Druids were on the Roman side, or the Romans had the skill to conciliate them. In half a century they w^ere suppressed by Augustus, and they and their excommunications, and their flam- ing wicker w^orks, had to be sought for in distant Britain, or in the still more distant Ireland. The active and secular leadership could not disappear so easily. Leaders of some kind were still required and inevitably found, but the method of selection in t\\^ times which had arrived was silently changing. While the Gallic nation retained, or desired to retain, a kind of unity, some one of the many tribes had always been allowed a hegemony. The first place had rested generally with the jiEdui, a considerable people who occupied the central parts of France, be- tween the Upper Loire and the SaSne. The Ro- mans, anxious naturally to extend their influence in the country without direct interference, had taken the -^dui under their protectorate. The ^dui again had their clients in the inferior tribes ; and a Ro- mano-^^duan authority of a shadowy kind had thus penetrated through the whole nation. But the JEduans had rivals and competitors in the Sequani, another powerful body in Burgundy and Franche-Comt^. If the Romans feared the Gauls, the Gauls in turn feared the Romans ; and a national \)arty had formed itself everywhere, especially among 220 Cmar. the younger men, who were proud of their indepen- dence, impatient of foreign control, and determined to maintain the liberties which had descended to them. To these the Sequani offered themselves as cham- pions. Among the ^dui too there were fiery spirits wlio cherished the old traditions, and saw in the Ivo- man alliance a prelude to annexation. And thus it was that when Ccesar was appointed to Gaul, in every tribe and every sub-tribe, in every village and every family, there were two factions,^ each under its own captain, each struggling for supremacy, each conspir- ing and fighting among themselves, and each seeking or leaning upon external support. In many, if not in all, of the tribes there was a senate, or council of elders, and these appear almost everywhere to have been ^duan and Roman in their sympathies. The Sequani as the representatives of nationalism, know- ing that they could not stand alone, had looked for friends elsewhere. The Germans had long turned covetous eyes upon the rich cornfields and pastures from which the Rhine divided them. The Cimbri and Teutons had been but the vanguard of a multitude who were eager to follow. The fate of these invaders had checked the impulse for half a century, but the lesson was now forgotten. Ariovistus, a Bavarian prince, who spoke Gaelic like a native, and bad probably long meditated conquest, came over into Franche-Comt^ at the invi- 1 " In Gallia non solum in omnibus civitatibus atque in omnibus pagis partibusque sed pa?ne etiam in singulis domibus factiones sunt, earumque factionum principes sunt qui summam auctoritatem eorum judicio habere exlstimantur Ilaec est ratio in summa totius Gallia), namque omnea civitatos in partes divisss sunt duas. Cum Caesar in Gilliam venit, alteriui factionis principes erant Haedui, alterius Sequani." — De Bello Galiico, lib- ri. capp. 11, 12. The Helvetii, 221 tation of the Sequani, bringing his people with him. The few thousand families which were first intro- duced had been followed by fresh detachments; they had attacked and beaten the ^dui, out of whose ter- ritories they intended to carve a settlement for them- selves. They had taken hostages frora tliem, and had broken down their authority, and the faction of the Sequani was now everywhere in the ascendant. The ^dui, three years before Caesar came, had ap- pealed to Rome for assistance, and the Senate had promised that the Governor of Gaul should support them. The Romans, hoping to temporize with the danger, had endeavored to conciliate Ariovistus, and in the year of Caesar's consulship had declared him a friend of the Roman people. Ariovistus, in turn, had pressed the iEdui still harder, and had forced them to renounce the Roman alliance. Among the JEdui, and throughout the country, the patriots were in the ascendant, and Ariovistus and his Germans were welcomed as friends and deliverers. Thoughtful persons in Rome had heard of these doings with un- easiness ; an old jEduan chief had gone in person thither, to awaken the Senate to the growing peril ; but the Senate had been too much occupied with its fears of Caesar, and Agrarian laws, and dangers to the fish-ponds, to attend; and now another great movement had begun, equally alarming and still closer to the Roman border. The Helvetii were old enemies. They were a branch of the Celtic race, who occupied modern Switzerland, hardy, bold mountaineers, and seasoned in constant war with their Gorman neighbors. On them, too, the tide of migration from the Nortli liad jiressed continuously. They lu.iJ hitlierto defended 222 CcPMT. I themselves successfully, but they were growing weary of these constant efforts. Their numbers were increas- ing, and their narrow valleys were too strait for them.Bj They also had heard of fertile, scantily peopled lands in other parts, of which they could possess themselves by force or treaty, and they had already shown signs of restlessness. Many thousands of them had broken out at the time of the Cimbrian invasion. They had defeated Cassius Longinus, who was then consul, near their own border, and had annihilated his army. They had carried fire and sword down the left bank of the Rhone. They had united themselves with the Teutons, and Lad intended to accompanj^ them into Italy. Their first enterprise failed. They perished in the great battle at-Aix, and the parent tribe had remained quiet for forty years till a new generation had grown to manhood. Once more their ambition had revived. Like the Germans, they had formed friendships among the Gallic factions. Their reputa- tion as warriors made them welcome to the patriots. In a fight for independence they would form a valua- ble addition to the forces of their countrymen. They had allies among the Sequani ; they had allies in the anti-Roman party which had risen among the jEdui ; and a plan had been formed in concert with their friends for a migration to the shores of the Bay of Biscay between the mouths of the Garonne and the Loire. The Cimbri and Teutons had passed away, but the ease with which the Cimbri had made the cir- cuit of these districts had shown how slight resistance could be expected from the inhabitants. Perhaps their coming had been anticipated and prepared for. The older men among the Helvetii had discouraged the project when it was first mooted, but they had The Helvetii. 2£3 yielded to eagerness and enthusiasm, and it had taken at last a practical form. Double harvests had been raised ; provision had been made of food and trans- port for a long march ; and a complete exodus of the entire tribe with their wives and families had been finally resolved on. If the Helvetii deserted Switzerland, the cantons would be immediately occupied by Germans, and a road would be opened into the Province for the en- emy whom the Romans had most reason to dread. The distinction between Germans and Gauls was not- accurately known at Rome. They were confounded under the common name of Celts ^ or Barbarians. But they formed together an ominous cloud charged with forces of uncertain magnitude, but of the reality of which Italy had already terrible experience. Di- vitiacus, chief of the jEdui, who had carried to Rome the news of the inroads of Ariovistus, brought again in person thither the account of this fresh peril. Every large movement of population suggested the possibility of a fresh rush across the Alps. Little energy was to be expected from the Senate. But the body of the citizens were still sound at heart. Their lives and properties were at stake, and they could feel for the dignity of the Empire. The people had sent Pompey to crush the pirates and conquer Mith- ridates. The people now looked to CaBsar, and in- stead of the "woods and forests" which the Senate designed for him, they had given him a five years' command on their western frontier. The details of the problem before him Caesar had yet to learn, but with its general nature he must have intimately acquainted himself. Of course he had seen 1 Even Dion Cassius speaks of the Germans as KeAroi. 224 Coemr. and spoken with Divitiacus. He was c^msul when Ariovistus was made ''a friend of the Roman peo- ple.'' He must have been aware, tlierefore, of- the introduction of the Germans over the Rhine. He could not tell what he might have first to do. There were other unpleasant symptoms on the side of Illyria and the Danube. From either quarter the storm might break upon him. No Roman general was e^er sent upon an enterprise so fraught with complicated possibilities, and few with less experience of the reali- ties of war. The points in his favor were these. He was the ablest Roman then living, and he had the power of attracting and attaching the ablest men to his serv- ice. He had five years in which to look about him and to act at leisure — as much time as had been given to Pompey for the East. Like Pompey, too, he was left perfectly free. No senatorial officials could incumber him with orders from home. The people had given him his command, and to the people alone he was responsible. Lastly, and beyond every- thing, he could rely with certainty on the material with which he had to work. The Roman legionaries were no longer yeomen taken from the plough or shopkeepers from the street. They were men more completely trained in every variety of accomplish- ment than have perhaps ever followed a general info ihe field before or since. It was not enough tlial they could use sword and lance. The campaign on which Csesar was about to enter was fought with spade and pick and axe and hatchet. Corps of en- gineers he may have had ; but if the engineers de- signed the work, the execution lay with the army. No limited department would have been equal to the Composition of Ccesar's Army, 22f. tasks which €very day demanded. On each evening after a march, a fortified camp was to be formed, with mound and trench, capable of resisting sur- prises, and demanding the labor of every single hand. Bridges had to be thrown over rivers. Ships and barges had to be built or repaired, capable of service against an enemy, on a scale equal to the require- ments of an array, and in a haste which permitted no delay. A transport service there must have been organized to perfection ; but there were no stores sent from Italy to supply the daily waste of material. The men had to mend and perhaps make their own clothes and shoes, and repair their own arms. Skill in the use of tools was not enough without the tools themselves. Had the spades and mattocks been sup- plied by contract, had the axes been of soft iron, fair to the eye and failing to the stroke, not a man in Caesar's army would have returned to Rome to tell the tale of its destruction. How the legionaries acquired these various arts, whether the Italian peasantry were generally educated in such occupations, or whether on this occasion there was a special selection of the best, of this we have no information. Certain only it was that men and instruments were as excellent in their kind as honesty and skill could make them ; and, however degenerate the patricians and corrupt the legislature, there was sound stuff somewhere in tUb Roman constitution. No exertion, no forethought fm the part of a commander could have extemporized such a variety of qualities. Universal practical ac- complishments must have formed part of the training of the free Roman citizens. Admirable workmanship was still to be had in each department of manufactr- 15 226 Cmar, ure^ and every article with which Csesar was pro- vided must have been the best of its kind. The first quarter of the year 58 was consume 1 in preparations. Caesar's antagonists in the Senate were still raving against the acts of his consulship, threaten- ing him with impeachment for neglecting Bibulus's interpellations, charging him with impiety for disre- garding the weather, and clamoring for the sup- pression of his command. But Cicero's banishment damped the ardor of these gentlemen ; after a few vicious efforts, they subsided into sullennesss, and trusted to Ariovistus or the Helvetii to relieve them of their detested enemy. Csesar himself selected his officers. Cicero having declined to go as liis heuten- ant, he had chosen Labienus, who had acted with him when tribune, in the prosecution of Rabirius, and had procured him the pontificate by giving the elec- tion to the people. Young men of rank in large numbers had forgotten party feeling, and had at- tached themselves to the expedition as volunteers to learn military experience. His own equipments were of the simplest. No common soldier was more care- less of hardships than Caesar. His chief luxury was a favorite horse, which would allow no one but Caesar to mount him ; a horse which had been bred in his own stables, and, from the peculiarity of a divided hoof, had led the augurs to foretell wonders for the rider jof it. xHis arrangements were barely completed when news came in the middle of March that the Helvetii were burning their towns and villages, gathering their families into their wagons, and were upon the point of commencing their emigration. Their numbers, ac- cording to a register which was found afterwards, were 368,000, of whom 92,000 were fighting men. The Helvetii. ^^"^ 227 They were bound for the West ; and there were two roads, by one or other of which alone they could leave theh^ country. One was on the right bank of the Rhone by the Pas de TEcluse, a pass between the Jura mountains and the river, so narrow thnt but two carts could go abreast along it ; the other, and easier, was through Savoy, which was now Ro- man. Under any aspect the transit of so vast a body through Roman territory could not but be dangerous. Savoy was the very ground on which Longinus had been destroyed. Yet it was in this direction that the Helvetii were preparing to pass, and would pass un- less they were prevented ; while in the whole Transal- pine province there was but a single legion to oppose them. Csesar started on the instant. He reached Marseilles in a few days, joined his legion, collected a few levies in the Province, and hurried to Geneva. Where the river leaves the lake there was a bridge which the Helvetii had neglected to occupy. Caesar broke it, and thus secured a breathing time. The Helvetii, who were already on the move and were as- sembling in force a few miles off, sent to demand a passage. If it was refused, there was more than one spot between the lake and the Pas de I'Ecluse where the river could be forded. The Roman force was small, and Csesar postponed his reply, It was the 1st of April ; he promised an answer on the 15th. In the interval he threw up forts, dug trenches, and raised walls at every point where a passage could bo attempted ; and when the time was expired, he de- dined to permit them to enter the Province. They tried to ford; they tried boats; but at every point they were beaten back. It remained for them to go 228 Omar. by the Pas de TEclase. For this route tliey required the consent of the Sequani; and, however willing the Sequani might be to see them in their neighbors' territories, they might object to the presence in their own of such a flight of devouring locusts. Evident* ly, however, there was some general scheme, of which the entry of the Helvetii into Gaul was the essential part ; and through the mediation of Dumnorix, an jEduan and an ardent patriot, the Sequani were in- duced to agree. The Province had been saved, but the exodus of the enormous multitude could no longer be prevented. If such waves of population were allowed to wander at pleasure, it was inevitable that sooner or later they would overflow the borders of the Empire. Caesar determined to show, at once and peremptorily^ that these movements would not be permitted without the Romans' consent. Leaving Labienus to guard the foists on the Rhone, he hurried back to Italy, gathered up his three legions at Aquileia, raised two more at Turin with extreme rapidity, and returned with them by the shortest route over the Mont Genevre. The mountain tribes attacked him, but could not even de- lay his march. In seven days he had surmounted the passes, and was again with Labienus. The Helvetii, meanwhile, had gone through the Pas de TEclase, and were now among the JEdui, laying waste the countr}^ It was early in the summer. The eorn was green, the hay was still uncut, and the crops were being eaten off the ground. The iEdui threw themselves on the promised protection of Rome. Cse- fca.r crossed the Rhone above Lyons, and came up with the marauding hosts as they were leisurely passiiig in hciwi^ over the Sa8ne. They had been twenty days The Helvetii, 229 upon the river, transporting their wagons and their families. Three quarters of them were on the other side. The Tigurini from Zurich, the most warlike of their tribes, were still on the left bank. Th t Tigu* rini had destroyed the army of Longinus, and on tliem the first retribution fell. Csesar cut them to pieces. A single day sufficed to throw a bridge over the SaSne and the Helvetii, who had looked for nothing less than to be pursued by six Roman legions, begged for peace. They were willing, they said, to go to any part of the country which Caesar would assign to them ; and they reminded him that they might be dangerous, if pushed to extremities. Caesar knew that they were dangerous. He had followed them because he knew it. He said that they must return the way that they had come. They must pay for the injuries which they had inflicted on the iEdui, and they must give him hostages for their obedience. The fierce mountaineers replied that they had been more used to demand hostages than to give them ; and confident in their numbers, and in their secret allies among the Gauls, they marched on through the ^duan territories up the level banks of the SaSne, thence striking west towards Autun. Caesar had no cavalry ; but every Gaul could ride, and he raised a few thousand horse among his sup- nosed allies. These he meant to employ to harass the Helvetian march ; but they were secret traitors, under the influence of Dumnorix, and they fled at the rirst encounter. The Helvetii had thus the country at their mercy, and they laid it waste as they went, a day's march in advance of the Romans. So long as they kept by the river, Caesar's stores accompanied him in barges. He did not choose to let the Helvetii 230 Cmar, out of his sight, ai.d when they left the Sa8ne, and when he was obliged to follow, his provisions ran short. He applied to the JEduan chiefs, who prom- ised to furnish him, but they failed to do it. Ten days passed, and no supplies came in. He ascertained at last that there was treachery. Dumnorix ai-d other ^duan leaders were in correspondence with the enemy. The cavalry defeat and the other failures were thus explained. Caesar, who trusted much to gentleness and to personal influence, was unwilling to add the ^dui to his open enemies. Dumnorix was the brother of Divitiacus, the reigning chief, whom Caesar had known in Rome. Divitiacus was sent for, confessed with tears his brother's misdeeds, and begged that he might be forgiven. Dumnorix was brought in. Caesar showed that he was aware of his conduct : but spoke kindly to him, and cautioned him for the future. The corn carts, however, did not ap- pear ; supplies could not be dispensed wdth ; and the Romans, leaving the Helvetii, struck off to Bibracte, on Mont Beauvray, the principal JSduan town in the highlands of Nivernais. Unfortunately for themselves, the Helvetii thought the Romans were flying, and be- came in turn the pursuers. They gave Caesar an op- portunity, and a single battle ended them and their migrations. The engagement lasted from noon till night. The Helvetii fought gallantly, and in numbers were enormously superior; but the contest was be- tween skill and courage, sturdy discipline and wild valor ; and it concluded as such contests always must, [n these hand-to-hand engagements there were no wounded. Half the fighting men of the Swiss were killed ; their camp was stormed ; the survivors, with the remnant of the women and children, or such jf Defeat of the Helvetii. 231 them as were capable of moving (for thousands had perished, and a httle more than a third remained of those who had left Switzerland), straggled on to lan- gros, where they surrendered. Cassar treated the poor creatures with kindness and care. A few were set- tled in Gaul, where they afterwards did valuable sei v- ice. The rest were sent back to their own cantons^ lest the Germans should take possession of their lands ; and lest they should starve in the homes which they had desolated before their departure, they were pro- vided with food out of the Province till their next crops were grown. A victory so complete and so unexpected astonished the whole country. The peace party recovered the ascendency. Envoys came from all the Gaulish tribes to congratulate, and a diet of chiefs was held under Caesar's presidency, where Gaul and Roman seemed to promise one another eternal friendship. As yet, however, half the mischief only had been dealt with, and that the lighter part. The Helvetii were dis- posed of, but the Germans remained ; and till Ari- ovistus was back across the Rhone, no permanent peace was possible. Hitherto Caesar had only received vague information about Ariovistus. When the diet vas over, such of the chiefs as were sincere in their professions came to him privately and explained what the Germans were about. A hundred and twenty thousand of them were now settled near Belfort, and between the Vosges and the Rhine, with the conni- vance of the Sequani. More were coming; in a short time Gaul would be full of them. They had made war on the JEdui ; they were in correspondence with the anti-Roman factions ; their object was the per- manent occupation of the country. 232 Ccesar, Two months still remained of summer. CtBsai was now conveniently near to the German positions. His army was in high spirits from its victorj^, and he him- self was prompt in forming resolutions and swift in executing them. An injury to the JEdui could be treated as an injury to the Romans, which it would be dishonor to pass over. If the Germans were al* lowed to overrun Gaul, they might soon be seen again in Italy. Ariovistus was a "friend of Rome." Csesar had been himself a party to the conferring this distinc- tion upon him. As a friend, therefore, he was in the first instance to be approached. Caesar sent to invite him to a conference. Ariovistus, it seemed, set small value upon his honors. He replied that if he needed anything from Cassar, he would go to Caesar and ask for it. If Caesar required anything from him, Caesar might do the same. Meanwhile Caesar was approach- ing a part of Gaul which belonged to himself by right of conquest, and he wished to know the meaning of the presence of a Roman army there. After such an answer, politeness ceased to be nec- essary. Caesar rejoined that since Ariovistus esti- mated so lightly his friendship with the Romans as to refuse an amicable meeting, he would inform him briefly of his demands upon him. The influx of Ger- mans on the Rhine must cease : no more must come in. He must restore the hostages which he had taken from tlie ^dui, and do them no further hurt. If Ari- ovistus complied, the Romans would continue on good terms with him. If not, he said that by a decree of the Senate the Governor of Gaul was ordered to pro< tecl the ^dui, and he intended to do it. Ariovistus answered that he had not interfered with Alarm in the Roman Army, 23S the Romans ; and the Romans had no right to inter- fere with him. Conquerors treated their subjects as they pleased. The ^dui had begun the quarrel wi'«^h him. They had been defeated, and were now Lis vassals. If Caesar chose to come between him and his subjects, he would have an opportunity of seeing how Germans could fight who had not for fourteen years slept under a roof. It was reported that a large body of Suevi were coming over the Rhine to swell Ariovistus's force, and that Ariovistus w^as on the point of advancing to seize Besan^on. Besan^on was a position naturally strong, being surrounded on three sides by the Doiibs. It was fall of military stores, and w^as otherwise im portant for the control of the Sequani. Caesar ad- vanced swiftly and took possession of the place, and announced that he meant to go and look for Ariovis- tus, The army so far had gained brilliant successes, but the men were not yet fully acquainted with the nat- ure of their commander. They had never yet looked Germans in the face, and imagination magnifies the unknown. Roman merchants and the Gauls of the neighborhood brought stories of the gigantic size and strength of these Northern warriors. The glare of tliBir ryes was reported to be so fierce that it could nob be borne. They were wild, wonderful, and dread- ful. Young officers, patricians and knights, who had toUowed Caesar for a little mild experience, began to dislike the notion of these new enemies. Some ap- plied for leave of absence ; others, thougli ashamed to ask to be allowed to leave the army, cowered in in their tents with sinking hearts, made their wills, and composed last messages for their friends. The 234 Omar. centurions caught the alarm from their superiors, and the legionaries from the centurions. To conceal their fear of the Germans, the men discovered that, if they advanced farther, it would be through regions where provisions could not follow them, and that they wou! 1 be starved in the forests. At length, Caesar was in- formed that if he gave the order to march, the army would refuse to move. Confident in himself, C^sar had the power, so i i- dispensable for a soldier, of inspiring confidence in others as soon as they came to know what he was. He called his officers together. He summoned the centurions, and rebuked them sharply for questioning his purposes. The German king, he said, had been received at his own request into alliance with the Ro- mans, and there was no reason to suppose that he meant to break with them. Most likely he would do what was required of him. If not, was it to be con- ceived that they were afraid ? Marius had beaten these same Germans. Even the Swiss had beaten them. They were no more formidable than other barbarians. They might trust their commander for tlie commissariat. The harvest was ripe, and the difficulties were nothing. As to the refusal to march, he did not believe in it. Romans never mutinied, save through the rapacity or incompetence of their general. His life was a witness that he was not ra- pacious, and his victory over the Helvetii that as yet be had made no mistake. He should order the ad- Tance on the next evening, and it would then be seen ^rhether sense of dutj^ or cowardice was the stronger. If others declined, Caesar said that he should go for- ward alone with the legion which he knew would fol- low him, the 10th, which was already his favorite. Interview with Ariovistus, 235 The speech was received with enthusiasm. The 10th thanked Caesar for his compliment to them. The rest, oflBcers and men, declared their willingness to follow wherever he might lead them. He staited with Divitiacus for a guide ; and, passing Belfort, came in seven days to Cernay or to some point neai it. Ariovistus was now but four-and-twenty miles from him. Since Caesar had come so far, Ariovistus said that he was willing to meet him. Day and place were named, the conditions being that the armies should remain in their ranks, and that Caesar and he might each bring a guard of horse to the interview. He expected that Caesar would be contented with an escort of the JEduan cavalry. Caesar, knowing better than to trust himself with Gauls, mounted his 10th legion, and with them proceeded to the spot which Ariovistus had chosen. It was a tumulus, in the cen- tre of a large plain equi-distant from the two camps. The guard on either side remained two hundred paces in the rear. The German prince and the Roman gen- eral met on horseback at the mound, each accom- panied by ten of his followers. Caesar spoke first and fairly. He reminded Ariovistus of his obligations to the Romans. The iEdui, he said, had from imme- morial time been the leading tribe in Gaul. The Ro- mans had an alliance with them of old standing, and »iever deserted their friends. He required Ariovistus *^o desist from attacking them, and to return their Jiostages. He consented that the Germans already a::;ross the Rhine might remain in Gaul, but he de- manded a promise that no more should be brought jver. Ariovistus haughtily answered that he was a great king; that he had come into Gaul by the invitation 236 Ccesar. of the Gauls themselves; that the territory which h^ occupied was a gift from them ; and that the hostages of which Caesar spoke had remained with him with their free consent. The ^dui, he said, had begrai the war, and, being defeated, were made justly to pay forfeit. He had sought the friendship of the Romans, expecting to profit by it. If friendship meant the taking away his subjects from him, he desired no more of such friendship. The Romans had their Province. It was enough for them, and they might remain there unmolested. But Caesar's presence so far beyond his own borders was a menace to his own independence, and his independence he intended to maintain. Caesar must go away out of those parts, or he and his Germans would know how to deal with him. Then, speaking perhaps more privatelj^, he told Cae- sar that he knew something of Rome and of the Ro- man Senate, and had learnt how the great people there stood affected towards the Governor of Gaul. Certain members of the Roman aristocracy had sent him messages to say that if he killed Caesar they would hold it a good service done,^ and would hold him their friend forever. He did not wish, he said, to bind himself to these noble persons. He would prefer Caesar rather ; and would fight Caesar's battles for him anywhere in the world if Caesar would but re- tire and leave him. Ariovistus was misled, not un naturally, by these strange communications from the tAovereign rulers of the Empire. He did not know, he could not know, that the genius of Rome and tho 1 * Id seab ipsis per eorum nuntios compertum habere, quorum omniuic ^nratianr atque amioitiam ejtis morte redimere posset." — De Bell Gall. '", 44. Battle at Cohnar. 237 true chief of Rome were not in the treacherous Senate, but were before him there on the field in the persons of Caesar and his legions. More might have passed between them; but Ario- vistus thought to end the conference by a stroke of treacher3^ His German guard had stolen round to where the Romans stood, and, supposing that they had Gauls to deal with, were trying to surround and disarm them. The men of the 10th legion stood firm ; Caesar fell back and joined them, and, content- ing themselves with simply driving off the enemy, tbey rode back to the camp. The army was now passionate for an engagement. Ariovistus affected a desire for further communica- tion, and two officers were dispatched to hear what he had to say ; but they were immediately seized and put in chains, and the Germans advanced to within a few miles of the Roman outposts. The Romans lay intrenched near Cernay. The Germans were at Col- mar. Caesar offered battle, which Ariovistus declined. Cavalry fights happened daily which led to nothing. Caesar then formed a second camp, smaller but strongly fortified, within sight of the enemy, and threw two legions into it. Ariovistus attacked them, but he was beaten back with loss. The '^ wise women " advised him to try no more till the new moon. But Caesar would not wait for the moon, jind forced an engagement. The wives and daughters of the Germans rushed about their camp, with streaming hair, adjuring their countrymen to save them from slavery. The Germans fought like heroes ; but they could not stand against the short sword and hand-to- hand grapple of the legionaries. Better arms and better discipline again asserted the superiority ; and 238 Ccesar. in a few hours the invaders were flying wildly to tSe Rhine. Young Publius Crassus, the son of the mil- lionnaire, pursued with the cavahy. A few swam the river; a few, Ariovistus among them, escaped in boats ; all the rest, men and women alike, were cut down and killed. The Suevi, who were already on the Rhine, preparing to cross, turned back into their forests y and the two immediate perils which threat- ened the peace of Gaul had been encountered and trampled out in a single summer. The first cam- paign was thus ended. The legions were distributed in winter quarters among the Sequani, the contrivers of the mischief ; and Labienus was left in charge of them. Caesar went back over the Alps to the Cisal- . ^ pine division of the Province to look into B. C.57. ^ . . . the administration and to communicate with his friends in Rome. In Gaul there was outward quiet ; but the news of the Roman victories penetrated the farthest tribes and agitated the most distant households on the shores of the North Sea. The wintering of the legions beyond the province was taken to indicate an intention of permanent conquest. The Gauls proper were divided and overawed ; but the Belgians of the North were not prepared to part so easily with their liberty. The Belgians considered that they too were menaced, and that now or never was the time to strike for their in- dependence. They had not been infected with Roman manners. They had kept the merchants from their borders with their foreign luxuries. The Nervii, the fiercest of them, as the abstemious Csesar marks with approbation, were water-drinkers, and forbade "wine to be brought among them, as injurious to their sin- ews and their courage. Caesar learnt while in Italy Confederacy among the Belgce. 239 from Labienus that the Belgse were mustering and combining. A second vast horde of Germans were in Flanders and Artois ; men of the same race with the Belgse and in active confederacy with them. They might have been left in peace, far off as they were, had they sat still ; but the notes of their prepara- tions were sounding through the country and feeding the restless spirit which was stunned but not sub- dued. Csesar, on his own responsibility, raised two more legions and sent them across the Alps in the spring. When the grass began to grow he followed himself. Suddenly, before any one looked for him, he was on the Marne with his army. The Remi (people of Rheims), startled by his unexpected appearance, sent envoys with their submission and offers of hostages. The other Belgian tribes, they said, were determined upon war, and were calling all their warriors under arms. Their united forces were reported to amount to 800,000. The Bellovaci from the mouth of the Seine had sent 60,000 ; the Suessiones from Soissons, 50,000 ; the Nervii, between the Sambre and the Scheldt, 50,000; Arras and Amiens, 25,000; the' coast tribes, 36,000 ; and the tribes between the Ar- dennes and the Rhine, called collectively German!, 40,000 more. This irregular host was gathered in the forests between Laon and Soissons. Csesar did not wait for them to move. He ad- vanced at once to Rheims, where he called the Sen- ate together and encouraged them to be constant to the Roman alliance. He sent a party of ^dui down the Seine to harass the territory of the Bellovaci and recall them to their own defence ; and he went on him- self to the Aisne, which he crossed by a bridge already 240 Ocesar. existing at Berry-au-Bac. There, with the bridge and river at his back, he formed an intrenched camp of extraordinary strength, with a wall twelve feet high and a fosse twenty-t\^o feet deep. Against an at- tack with modern artillery such defences wo^ild, of course, be idle. As the art of war then stood, they were impregnable. In this position Caesar waited, leaving six cohorts on the left bank to guard the other end of the bridge. The Belgae came forward and encamped in his front. Their watch-fires at night were seen stretching along a line eight miles wide. Caesar, after feeling his way with his cavalry, found a rounded ridge projecting like a promontory into the plain where the Belgian host was lying. On this he advanced his legions, protecting his flanks with continuous trenches and earthworks, on which were placed heavy crossbows, the ancient predecessors of cannon. Between these lines, if he attacked the enemy and failed, he had a secure retreat. A marsh lay between the armies ; and each waited for the other to cross. The Belgians, impatient of the delajs flung themselves suddenly on one side and began to pour across the river, intending to destroy the cohorts on the other bank, to cut the bridge, and burn and plunder among the Remi. Caesar calmly sent back his cavalry and his archers and slingers. They caught the enemy in the water or struggling out of it in con- lusion ; all who had got over were killed ; multitudes vvere slaughtered in the river ; others, trying to cross on the bodies of their comrades, were driven back. The confederates, shattered at a single defeat, broke up like an exploded shell. Their previsions had run short. They melted away and dif^jersed to their homes, Labienus pursuing and r^ttl .p; down all that he could overtake. Movement against the Nervii. 241 The Roman loss was insignificant in this battle. The most remarkable feature in Caesar's campaigns, and that which indicates most clearly his greatness as a commander, was the smallness of the number of men that he ever lost, either by the sword or by wear and tear. No general was ever so careful of hift soldiers' lives. Soissons, a fortified Belgian town, surrendered the next day. From Soissons Caesar marched on Breteuil and thence on Amiens, which surrendered also. The Bellovaci sent in their submission, the leaders of the war party having fled to Britain. Caesar treated them all with scrupulous forbearance, demanding nothing but hostages for their future good behavior. His in- tention at this time was apparently not to annex any of these tribes to Rome, but to settle the country in a quasi-independence under an jEduan hegemon3^ But the strongest member of the confederacy was still unsubdued. The hardy, brave, and water-drink- ing Nervii remained defiant. The Nervii would send no envoys; they would listen to no terms of peace. ^ Caesar learnt that tl^ey were expecting to be joined by the Aduatuci, a tribe of pure Germans, who had been left behind near Li^ge at the time of the invasion of the Teutons. Preferring to engage them separately he marched from Amiens through Cambray, and sent forward some officers and pioneers to choose a spot for a camp on the Sambre. Certain Gauls, who liad 1 CflBsar thus records his admiration of the Nervian character : *' Quo- rum de natura moribu?que Caesar cum qu^ereret sic reperiebat, null'im adv turn esse ad eos mei caloribus; nihil pati viui reliquarumque rerum ad lux* ariani pertinentium inferri, quod iis rebus relanguescere animos eorum tt Temitti virtutem existimarent: esse homines feros mag^naeque virtutis ; m- irepitare atque incusare reliquos Belgas qui se populo Romano dodidissent patriamque virtutem projecissent; confirmare sese neque legatos missuros Deque ullam conditionem pacis accept uros." — De Bell. Gall. ii. 15. 16 242 Ccesar. observed his habits on march, deserted tx) the Nervii, and informed them that usually a single legion went in advance, the baggage wagons followed, and the rest of the army came in the rear. By a sudden at- tack in front they could overwhelm the advanced troops, plunder the carts, and escape before thej? CI mid be overtaken. It happened that on this occa- sion the order was reversed. The country was in- closed with thick fences, which required to be cut through. Six legions marched in front, clearing a road ; the carts came next, and two legions behind. The site selected by the officers was on the left bank of the Sambre at Maubeuge, fifty miles above Namur. The ground sloped easily down to the river, which was there about a yard in depth. There was a cor- responding rise on the other side, which was densely covered with wood. In this wood the whole force of the Nervii lay concealed, a few only showing them- selves on the water side. Caesar's light horse which had gone forward, seeing a mere handful of strag- glers, rode through the stream and skirmished with them ; but the enemy retired under cover ; the horse did not pursue ; the six legions came up, and, not dreaming of the nearness of the enemy, laid aside their arms, and went to work intrenching with spade and mattock. The baggage wagons began presently to appear at the crest of the hill, the signal for which the Nervii had waited ; and in a moment all along the river sixty thousand of them rushed out of the forest, sent the cavalry flying, and came on so im- petuously that, as Caesar said, they seemed to be in the wood, in the water, and up the opposite bank at Bword's point with the legions at the same moment. The surprise was complete : the Roman army was in Battle with the Nervii, 243 confusion. Many of the soldiers were scattered at a distance, cutting turf. None were in their ranks, and none were armed. Never in all his campaigns was Caesar in greater danger. He could himself give no general orders which there was time to observe. Tw o points only, he said, were in his favor. The men themselves were intelligent and experienced, and knew what they had to do; and the officers were all present, because he had directed that none of them should leave their companies till the camp was completed. The troops were spread loosely in their legions along the brow of the ridge. Caesar joined the 10th on his right wing, and had but time to tell the men to be cool and not to agitate themselves, when the enemy were upon them. So sudden was the on- slaught that they could neither put their hehnets on, nor strip the coverings from their shields, nor find their places in the ranks. They fought where they stood among thick hedges whicli obstructed the sight of what was passing elsewhere. Though the Aduat- uci had not come up, the Nervii had allies with them from Arras and the Somme. The allies en- countered the 8th, 9th, 10th, and 11th legions, and were driven rapidly back down the hill through the I'iver. The Romans, led by Labienus, crossed in pur- suit, followed them into the forest, and took their camp. The Nervii meanwhile flung themselves with all their force on the two legions on the left, the *.2th and 7th, enveloped them with their numbers, penetrated behind them, and fell upon the baggage wagons. The light troops and the camp followers fled in all directions. The legionaries, crowded to- vjether in confusion, were fighting at disadvantage, and were falling thick and fast. A party of horse 244 Ccesar, from Treves, who had come to treat with Caesar, thought that all was lost, and rode off to tell their countrymen that the Romans were destroyed. Caesar, who was in the other wing, learning late what was going on, hurried to the scene. He found the standards huddled together, the men packed sc close that they could not use their swords, almost all the oflBcers killed or wounded, and one of the best of them, Sextius Baculus (Caesar always paused in his narrative to note any one who specially distinguished himself), scarce able to stand. Caesar had come up unarmed. He snatched a shield from a soldier, and, bare-headed, flew to the front. He was known ; he addressed the centurions by their names. He bade them open their ranks and give the men room to strike. His presence and his calmness gave them back their confidence. In the worst extremities he observes that soldiers will fight well under their com- mander's eye. The cohorts formed into order. The enemy was checked. The two legions from the rear, who had learnt the danger from the flying camp fol- lowers, came up. Labienus, from the opposite hill, saw what had happened, and sent the 10th legion back. All was now changed. The fugitives, ashamed of their cowardice, rallied, and were eager to atone for it. The Nervii fought with a courage which filled Caesar with admiration — men of greater spirit he said that he had never seen. As their first ranks fell, they piled the bodies of their comrades into heaps, and from the top of them hurled back the Roman javelins. They would not fly ; they dropped where they stood ; and tte battle ended only with their ex- termination. Out of 600 senators there survived but three ; out of 60,000 men able to bear arms, only 500, The aged of the tribe, and the ^omen and children Capture of Namur, 245 who had been left in the morasses for security, sent in their surrender, their warriors being all dead. They professed to fear lest they might be destroyed by neighboring clans who were on bad terms witli them. CaBsar received them and protected them* and gave severe injunctions that they should suffer no injury. By tlie victory over the Nervii the Belgian confed. eracy was almost extinguished. The Genu an Adu- atuci remained only to be brought to submission. They had been on their way to join their country- men ; they were too late for the battle, and returned and shut themselves up in Namur, the strongest posi- tion in the Low Countries. Caesar, after a short rest, pushed on and came under their walls. The Ad- uatuci were a race of giants, and were at first defiant. When they saw the Romans' siege towers in prepara- tion, they could not believe that men so small could move such vast machines. When the towers began to approach, they lost heart and sued for terms. CaBsar promised to spare their lives and properties if they surrendered immediately, but he refused to grant conditions. They had prayed to be allowed to keep their arms ; affecting to believe, like the Nervii, that they would be in danger from the Gauls if they were unable to defend themselves. Caesar undertook that they should have no hurt, but he insisted that their arms must be given up. They affected obedi- ence. They flung their swords and lances over the walls till the ditch was filled with them. They opened their gates ; the Romans occupied them, but were forbidden to enter, that there might be no plun- dering. It seems that there was a desperate faction among the Aduatuci who liad been for fighting tc extremity. A third pjirt of the arms had bocm sc- 246 Ocesar. ! cretly reserved, and after midnight the tribe sallied with all their force, hoping to catch the Romans sleeping. Caesar was not to be surprised a second time. Expecting that some sr.ch attempt might be made, he had prepared piles of faggots in convenient places. These bonfires were set blazing in an instant. By their red light the legions formed ; and, after a desperate but unequal combat, the Germans Avere driven into the town again, leaving 4,000 dead. In the morning the gates were broken down, and Namur was taken without more resistance. Caesar's usual practice was gentleness. He honored brave men, and never punished bold and open opposition. Of treach- ery he made a severe example. Namur was con- demned. The Aduatuci within its walls were sold into slavery, and the contractors who followed the army returned the number of prisoners whom they had purchased at 53,000. Such captives were the most valuable form of spoil. The Belgse were thus crushed as completely as the Gauls had been crushed in the previous year. Pub- lius Crassus had meanwhile made a circuit of Brit- tainy, and had received the surrender of the maritime tribes. So great was the impression made by these two campaigns, that the Germans beyond the Rhine 8cnt envoys with offers of submission. The second season was over. Caesar left the legions in quarters about Chartres, Orleans, and Blois. He himself re- turned to Italy again, where his presence was impera- tively required. The Senate, on the news of his suc- cesses, had been compelled, by public sentiment, to order an extraordinary thanksgiving ; but tliere were men who were anxious to prevent Caesar from achiev- ing any farther victories since Ariovistus had failed to destroy him. CHAPTER XV. Before his own catastrophe, and before he could believe that he was in dangler, Cicero had ^ . B.C. 58. discerned clearly the perils which threatened the State. The Empire was growing more extensive. The ••' Tritons of the fish-ponds " still held the reins ; and believed their own supreme duty was to divide the spoils among themselves. The pyramid was standing on its point. The mass which rested on it was becoming more portentous and unwieldy. The Senate was the official power ; the armies were the real power ; and the imagination of the Senate was that after each conquest the soldiers would be dis- missed back into humble life unrewarded, white the noble lords took possession of the new acquisitions, and added new millions to their fortunes. All this Cicero knew, and yet he had persuaded himself that it could continue without bringing on a catastrophe. He saw his fellow senators openly bribed; he saw the elections become a mere matter of money. He saw adventurers pushing themselves into office by steep- ing themselves in debt, and paying their debts by robbing the provincials. He saw these high-born Hcoundrels coming home loaded with treasure, buying lands and building palaces, and, when brought to trial, purchasing the consciences of their judges. Yet he had considered such phenomena as the temporary ac- cidents of a constitution which was still the best tjiat could be conceived, and every one that doubted the 248 Ccesar. excellence of it he had come to legard as an enemy of mankind. So long as there was free speech in Senate and platform for orators like himself, all would soon be well again. Had not he, a mere coun- try gentleman's son, risen under it to wealth and consideration? and was not his own rise a sufficient evidence that there was no real injustice ? Party struggles were over, or had no excuse for continuance. Sylla's constitution had been too narrowly aristo- cratic. But Sylla's invidious laws had been softened by compromise. The tribunes had recovered their old privileges. The highest offices of State were open to the meanest citizen who was qualified for them. Individuals of merit might have been kept back for a time by jealousy ; the Senate had too long objected to the promotion of Pompey ; but their op- position had been overcome by purely constitutional means. The great general had obtained his com- mand by land and sea ; he, Cicero, having by elo- quent speech proved to the people that he ought to be nominated. What could anj^^ one wish for more ? And yet Senate and Forum vt^ere still filled with fac- tion, quarrel, and discontent ! One interpretation only Cicero had been able to place on such a phe- nomenon. In Rome, as in all great communities, there were multitudes of dissolute, ruined wretches, the natural enemies of property and order. Bank- rupt members of the aristocracy had lent themselves to these people as their leaders, and had been the cause of all the trouble of the past years. If such renegades to their order could be properly discour- aged or extinguished, Cicero had thought that there would be nothing more to desire. Catiline he had himself made an end of to his own immortal glory, Cicero and Clodius, 249 but no\j Catiline had revived in Clodius; and Clodius, so far from being discouraged, was petted and en- couraged by responsible statesmen who ought to have known better. Cgesar had employed him ; Crassna had employed him ; even Pompey had stooped to connect himself with the scandalous young incen- diary, and had threatened to call in the army if tlie Senate attempted to repeal Caesar's iniquitous laws.^ Still more inexplicable was the ingratitude of the aristocracy and their friends, the ''boni " or good — the '' Conservatives of the State," ^ as Cicero still continued to call Csesar's opponents. He respected them ; he loved them ; he had done more for their cause than any single man in the Empire; and yet they had never recognized his services by word or deed. He had felt tempted to throw up public life in disgust, and retire to privacy and philosophy. So Cicero had construed the situation before his exile, and he had construed it ill. If he had wished to retire he could not. He had been called to account for the part of his conduct for which he most admired himself. The ungracious Senate, as guilty as he, if guilt there had been, had left him to bear the blame of it, and he saw himself driven into banishment by an insolent reprobate, a patrician turned Radical and demagogue, Publius Clodius. Indignity could be car- ried no farther. Clodius is the most extraordinary figure in this ex- traordinary period. He had no character. He had no distinguished talent save for speech ; he had no policy ; he was ready to adopt any cause or person which for the moment was convenient to him ; and 1 To Atticus, ii. 16. 2 ** Conservatores Reipublicee." — Pro Sexlio. 250 Ccesar. yet for five years this man was the omnipotent leader of the Roman mob. He could defy justice, insult the consuls, beat the tribunes, parade the streets with a gang of armed slaves, killing persons disagreeable to him ; and in the Senate itself he had his high friends and connections who threw a shield over him when his audacity had gone beyond endurance. We know Clodius only from Cicero ; and a picture of him from a second hand might have made his position more in- telligible, if not more reputable. Even in Rome it is scarcely credible that the Clodius of Cicero could have played such a part, or that the death of such a man should have been regarded as a national calam- ity. Cicero says that Clodius revived Catiline's fac- tion ; but what was Catiline's faction? or how came Catiline to have a faction which survived him? Be this as it may, Clodius had banished Cicero, and had driven him away over the seas to Greece, there, for sixteen months, to weary Heaven and his friends with his lamentations. Cicero had refused Caesar's offered friendship ; Caesar had not cared to leave so powerful a person free to support the intended attacks on his legislation, and had permitted, perhaps had encouraged, the prosecution. Cicero out of the way, the second person whose presence in Rome Ciesar thought might be inconvenient, Marcus Cato, had been got rid of by a process still more ingenious. The aristocracy pretended that the acts of Ceesar's consulship had been invalid through disregard of the interdictions of Bibulus ; and one of those acts had been the reduction of Clodius to the order of plebe- ians. If none of tliem were valid, Clodius was not legally tribune, and no commission which Clodius might confer through the peoplcj would have validity. Cato sent to Cyprus, 251 A service was discovered by which Cato was tempted, and which ho was induced to accept at Clodius's hands. Thus he was at once removed from the city, and it was no longer open to him to deny that Caesar's laws had been properly passed. The work on which he was sent deserves a few words. The kingdom of Cyprus had long been attached to the crown of Egypt. Ptolemy Alexander, dying in the year 80, had be- queathed both Egypt and Cyprus to Rome ; but the Senate had delayed to enter on their bequest, prefer- ring to share the fines which Ptolemy's natural heirs were required to pay for being spared. One of these heirs, Ptolemy Auletes, or " the Piper," father of the famous Cleopatra, was now reigning in Egypt, and was on the point of being expelled by his subjects. He had been driven to extortion to raise a subsidy for the senators, and he had made himself universally abhorred. Ptolemy of Cyprus had been a better sov- ereign, but a less prudent client. He had not over- taxed his people ; he had kept his money. Clodius, if Cicero's story is true, had a private grudge against him. Clodius had fallen among Cyprian pirates. Ptolemy had not exerted himself for his release, and he had suffered unmentionable indignities. At all events, the unfortunate king was rich, and was un- willing to give what was expected of him. Clodius, on the plea that the King of Cyprus protected pirates, persuaded the Assembly to vote the annexation of the island ; and Cato, of all men, was prevailed on by the mocking tribune to carry out the resolution. He was well pleased with his mission, though he wished it to appear to be forced upon him. Ptolemy poisoned himself ; Cato earned the glory of adding a new prov- ince to the Empire, and did not return for two years, 252 Ccesar, when he brought 7,000 talents — a million and a half of English monej^ — to the Roman treasury. Cicero and Cato being thus put out of the way — Ciesar being absent in Gaul, and Pompey Iv^okiug on without interfering — Clodius had amused himself with legislation. He gratified his corrupt friends iu the Senate by again abolishing the censor's power to expel them. He restored cheap corn establishments in the city — the most demoralizing of all the meas- ures which the democracy had introduced to swell their numbers. He reestablished the political clubs, which were hot-beds of distinctive Radicalism. He took away the right of separate magistrates to lay their vetos on the votes of the sovereign people, and he took from the Senate such power as they still pos- sessed of regulating the government of the Provinces, and passed it over to the Assembly. These resolu- tions, which reduced the administration to a chaos, he induced the people to decree by irresistible majorities. One measure only he passed which deserved commen- dation, though Clodius deserved none for introducing it. He put an end to the impious pretence of " ob- serving the heavens," of which Conservative officials had availed themselves to obstruct unwelcome mo- tions. Some means were, no doubt, necessary to check the precipitate passions of the mob ; but not means which turned into mockery the slight surviving rem- nants of ancient Roman reverence. In general politics the young tribune had no def- inite predilections. He had threatened at one time to repeal Ca3sar's laws himself. He attacked alter- nately the chiefs of the army and of the Senate, and the people let him do what he pleased without with- di'awing their confidence from him. He went every- Clodius as Trihu7ie, 253 where spreading terror with his body-guard of slaves. He quarrelled with the consuls, beat their lictors, and wounded Gabinius himself. Pompey professed to be in alarm for his life, and to be unable to appear in the streets. The state of Rome at this time has been well described by a modern historian as a '^ Wal* purgis dance of political witches." ^ Clodius was a licensed libertine ; but license has its limits. He had been useful so far ; but a rein was wanted for him, and Pompey decided at last that Cicero might now be recalled. Clodius'^fcerm of office ran out. The tribunes for the new^year were well disposed to Cicero. The new consuls were Len- tulus, a moderate aristocrat, and Cicero's personal friend ; and Metellus Nepos, who would do what Pompey told him. Caesar had been consulted by let- ter and had given his assent. Cicero, it might be thought, had learnt his lesson, and there was no de- sire of protracting his penance. There were still difficulties, however. Cicero, smarting from wrath and mortification, was more angry with the aristo- crats, who had deserted him, than with his open en- emies. His most intimate companions, he bitterly said, had been false to him. He was looking regret- fully on Caesar's offers,^ and cursing his folly for liaving rejected them. The people, too, would not sacrifice their convictions at the first bidding for the convenience of their leaders ; and had neither forgot- ten nor forgiven the killing of the Catiline ionspira- i Mommsdi. * " Omnia sunt me^ culpa commissa, qui ab his me amari putabara qui Uiv :^ebant: eos non sequebar qui petebant." — Ad Familinres, xiv. 1. * N" ilium est meum peccatum nisi quod iis credidi a quibus nefas putabam esse ma decipi Intimus proximus familiarissimus quisque aut sibi pertimuit au mihi invidit" — Ad Qumtiim Fralrem, i. 4. 264 Coemr, tors ; while Cicero, aware of the efforts which were being made, had looked for new allies in an impru- dent quarter. His chosen friend on the Conservative side was now Annius Milo, one of the new tribunes, a man as disreputable as Clodius himself ; deep in debt and looking for a province to indemnify him- self — famous hitherto in the schools of gladiators, in whose arts he was a proficient, and whose services were at his disposal for any lawless purpose. A decree of banishment could only be recalled by the people who had pronounced it. Clodius, though no longer in office, was still the idol of the mob ; and two of the tribunes, who were at first well inclined to Cicero, had been gained over by him. As early as possible, on the first day of the new j^ear, Lentulus Spinther brought Cicero's case before the Senate. A tribune reminded him of a clause, attached to the sentence of exile, that no citizen should in future move for its repeal. The Senate hesitated, perhaps catching at the excuse ; but at length, after repeated adjournments, they voted that the question should be proposed to the Assembly. The day fixed was the 2oth of January. In antici- pation of a riot the temples on the Forum were occu- pied with guards. The Forum itself and the Senate- house were in possession of Clodius and his gang. Clodius maintained that the proposal to be submitted to the people was itself illegal, and ought to be re- sisted by force. Fabricius, one of the tribunes, had been selected to introduce it. When Fabricius pre- sented himself on the Rostra, there was a general rush to throw him down. The Forum was in theory fitill a sacred spot, where the carrying of arms waa forbidden ; but the new age had forgotten such ob« Fight in the Forum, 265 jlolete superstitions. The guards issued out of the temples with drawn swords. The people were des- perate and determined. Hundreds were killed on both sides ; Quintus Cicero, who was present for his brother, narrowly escaping with his life. The Tiber, Cicero says — perhaps with some exaggeration —was covered with floating bodies ; the sewers were choked , the bloody area of the Forum had to be washed with Bponges. Such a day had not been seen in Rome since the fight between Cinna and Octavius.^ The mob remained masters of the field, and Cicero's cause had to wait for better times. Milo had been active in the combat, and Clodius led his victorious bands to Milo's house to destroy it. Milo brought an action against him for violence ; but Clodius was charmed even against forms of law. There was no censor aa yet chosen, and without a censor the praetors pre- tended that they could not entertain the prosecution. Finding law powerless, Milo imitated his antagonist. He, too, had his band of gladiators about him ; and the streets of the Capitol were entertained daily by fights between the factions of Clodius and Milo. The Commonwealth of the Scipios, the laws and institu- tions of the mistress of the civilized world, had be- come the football of ruffians. Time and reflection brought some repentance at last. Towards the sum- mer " the cause of order " rallied. The consuls and Pompey exerted themselves to reconcile the more re- spectable citizens to Cicero's return ; and, with the ground better prepared, the attempt was renewed ^ ith more success. In July the recall was again pro- 1 "M3ministis turn, judices, corporibua civium Tiberim compleri .cloa» cas referciri, e foro spongiis eflingi sanguinein Caedem tantam, tAntos acervos corporum extructcs, nisi forte illo Cinnano atque Octaviano di«« Quis uiiquam in foro vidit V " — Oratio pro P. Se^xtio^ xxxr. ;36. 266 Ccesar. posed in the Senate, and Clodlus was alcne m op- posing it. When it was hiid before the iVssembly, Clodius made another effort ; but voters had been brought up from other parts of Italy wh ) outnum- bered the city rabble; Milo and his gladiiitors wei e in force to prevent another burst of violence ; and the great orator and statesman was given back to bis country. Sixteen months he had been lamenting h'mself in Greece, bewailing his personal ill-treat- ment. He was the single object of his own reflec- tions. In his own most sincere convictions he was the centre on which the destinies of Rome revolved. He landed at Brindisi on the 5th of August. His pardon had not yet been decreed, though he knew that it was coming. The happy news arrived in a day or two, and he set out in triumph for Rome. The citizens of Brindisi paid him their compliments ; deputations came to congratulate from all parts of Italv. Outside the city every man of note of all the orders, save a few of his declared enemies, were wait- ing to receive him. The roofs and steps of the tem- ples were thronged with spectators. Crowds attended him to the Capitol, where he v^ent to pour out his gratitude to the gods, and welcomed him nome with shouts of applause. Had he been wise he would have seen that the re- joicing was from the lips outwards; that fine words were not gold ; that Rome and its factions weie just Mhere he had left them, or had descended one step lower. But Cicero was credulous of flattery when it echoed his own opinions about himself. The citi- zens, lie persuaded himself, were penitent for their in- gratitude to the most illustrious of their countrymen. The acclamations filled him with the delighted belief Return of Cicero, 267 chat he was to resume his place at the head of the State ; and, as he could not forgive his disgraoe, his first object in the midst of his triumph was to re- venge himself on those who had caused it. Speeches of acknowledgment he had naturally to make both to the Senate and the Assembly. In addressing the people he was moderately prudent ; he glanced at the treachery of his friends, but he did not make too much of it. He praised his own good qualities, but not extravagantly. He described Pompey as ''the wisest, best, and greatest of all men that had been, were, or ever would be." Himself he compared to Marius returning also from undeserved exile, and he delicately spoke in honor of a name most dear to the Roman plebs. But he, he said, unlike Marius, had no enemies but the enemies of his country. He had no retaliation to demand for his own wrongs. If he punished bad citizens, it would be by doing well him- self ; if he punished false friends, it would be by never again trusting them. His first and his last ob- ject would be to show his gratitude to his fellow citi- zens.^ Such language was rational and moderate. He un- derstood his audience, and he kept his tongue under a bridle. But his heart was burning in him ; and what he could not say in the Forum he thought he might venture on with impunity in the Senate, which might be called his own dunghill. His chief wrath was at the late consuls. They were both powerful men. Gabinius was Pompey's chief supporter. Cal- purnius Piso was Caesar's father-in-law. Both had been named to the government of important prov* inces; and, if authority was not to be brought intedition into Britain. 291 whom he had made chief of the Atrebates, to tell the people that he was coming over as a friend, and that they had nothing to fear. Volusenus returned after five days' absence, ha^'ing been unable to gather anything of importance. The ships which had come in were able only to take across two legions, probably at less than their full comple- ment — or at most ten thousand men ; but for Cse- sar's present purpose these were sufficient. Leaving Sabinus and Cotta in charge of the rest of the army, he sailed on a calm evening, and was off Dover in the morning. The cliffs were lined with painted war- riors, and hung so close over the water that if he at- tempted to land there stones and lances could reach the boats from the edge of the precipice. He called his officers about him while his fleet collected, and said a few encouraging words to them ; he then moved up the coast with the tide, apparently as far as Wal- mer or Deal. Here the beach was open and the water deep near the land. The Britons had followed by the brow of the cliff, scrambling along with their cars and horses. The shore was covered with them, and they evidently meant to fight. The transports an- chored where the water was still up to the men's shoulders. They were incumbered with their arms, and did not like the look of what was before them. Seeing them hesitate, Csesar sent his armed galleys filled with archers and crossbowmen to clear the ap- proach ; and as the legionaries still hesitated, an offi- cer who carried the eagle of the 10th leapt into the sea and bade his comrades follow if they wished to save their standard. They sprang overboard with a g-'^neral cheer. The Britons rode their horses into the waves to meet them : and for a few minutes the 292 Ocesar, Romans could make no progress. Boats came to their help, which kept back the most active of their opponents, and once on land they were in their own element. The Britons galloped o£f, and Caesar had no cavalry. A camp was then formed. Some of the ships were left at anchor, others were brought on shore, and were hauled up to the usual high-water mark. Commiua came in with deputations, and peace was satisfactorily arranged. All went well till the fourth day, when the full moon brought the spring tide, of which the Romans had no experience and had not provided for it. Heavy weather came up along with it. The gal- leys on the beach were floated off ; the transports at anchor parted their cables ; some were driven on shore, some out into the Channel. Ca3sar was in real anx- iety. He had no means of procuring a second fleet. He had made no preparations for wintering in Britain. The legions had come light, without tents or baggage, as he meant to stay no longer than he had done in Germany, two or three weeks at most. Skill and energy repaired the damage. The vessels which had gone astray were recovered. Those which were least injured were repaired with the materials of the rest. Twelve only were lost, the others were made sea- worthy. The Britons, as Caesar expected, had taken heart at the disaster. They broke their agreement, and fell upon his outposts. Seeing the small number of Ro- mans, they collected in force, in the hope that if they could destroy the first comers no more such unwelcome visitors would ever arrive to trouble them A sharp action taught them their mistake; and after many of the poor creatures had been killed, they brought in Naval Preparations, 293 hostages, and again begged for peace. The equinox was now coming on. The weather was again threat- ening. Postponing, therefore, further inquiries intci the nature of the British and their country, Cossar used the first favorable opportunity, and returned, without further adventure, to Boulogne. The legions were distiibuted among the Belgse; and Osesar him- self, who could have no rest, hastened over the Alps, to deal with other disturbances which had broken out in lUyria. The bridge over the Rhine and the invasion of a country so remote that it w^as scarcely be- . B. C. 54. lieved to exist, roused the enthusiasm at ' ' ' Rome beyond the point which it had hitherto reached. The Roman populace was accustomed to victories, but these were portents like the achievements of the old demigods. The humbled Senate voted twenty days of thanksgiving ; and faction, controlled by Pompey, was obliged to be silent. The Illyrian troubles W'Cre composed without fight- ing, and the interval of winter was spent in prepara- tions for a renewal of the expedition into Britain on a larger scale. Orders had been left with the officers in command to prepare as many transports as the time would allow, broader and lower in the side for greater convenience in loading and unloading. In April, Caesar returned. He visited the different sta- tions, and he found that his expert legionaries, work- ing incessantly, had built six hundred transports and twenty-eight armed galleys. All these were finished and ready to be launched. He directed that they should collect at Boulogne as before ; and in the in- terval he paid a visit to the north of Gaul, w^iere there were rumors of fresh correspondence with th^ 294 Ccesar. Germans. Danger, if danger there was, was threat- ened by the Treveri, a powerful tribe still unbroken on the Moselle. CaBsar, however, had contrived to attach the leading chiefs to the Roman interest. He found nothing to alarm him, and once more went down to the sea. In his first venture he had been embarrassed by want of cavalry. He was by this time personally acquainted with the most influential of the Gallic nobles. He had requested them to at- tend him into Britain with their mounted retinues, both for service in the field and that he might keep these restless chiefs under his eye. Among the rest he had not overlooked the jEduan prince, Dumnorix, whose intrigues had brought the Helvetii out of Switz- erland, and whose treachery had created difficulty and nearly disaster in the first campaign. Dumnorix had not forgotten his ambition. He had affected penitence, and he had been treated with kindness. He had availed himself of the favor which had been shown to him to pretend to his countrymen that Cae- sar had promised him the chieftainship. He had peti- tioned earnestly to be excused from accompanying the expedition, and, Csesar having for this reason prob- ably the more insisted upon it, he had persuaded the other chiefs that Caesar meant to destroy them, and that if they went to Britain thej^ would never return. These whisperings were reported to Caesar. 'Dum- norix had come to Boulogne with the rest, and he or- dered him to be watched. A long westerly wind had prevented Caesar from embarking as soon as he had wished. The weather changed at last, and the troops were ordered on board. Dumnorix slipped away in the contusion with a party of ^duan horse, and it was now certain that he had sinister intentions. The Second Invasion of Britain, 295 embarkation was suspended. A detachment of cav- alry was sent in pursuit, with directions to bring Dumnorix back dead or alive. Dumnorix resisted, and was killed. No disturbance followed on his death. The re- maining chiefs were loyal, or wished to appear loyal, and further delay was unnecessary. Labienus, whom Caesar thoroughly trusted, remained behind with three legions and two thousand horse to watch over Gaul ; and on a fine summer evening, with a light air from the south, Csesar sailed at sunset on the 20th of July. He had five legions with him. He had as many cav- ahy as he had left with Labienus. His flotilla, swol- len by volunteers, amounted to eight hundred vessels, small and great. At sunrise they were in midchan- nel, lying in a dead calm, with the cliffs of Britain plainly visible on their left hand. The tide was flow- ing. Oars were out; the legionaries worked with such enthusiasm that the transports kept abreast of the war galleys. At noon they had reached the beach at Deal, where this time they found no enemy to op- pose their landing ; the Britons had been terrified at the multitude of ships and boats in which the power of Rome was descending on them, and had fled into the interior. The water was smooth, the disembark- ation easy. A camp was drawn out and intrenched, and six thousand men, with a few hundred horse, were told off to guard it. The fleet was left riding quietly at anchor, the pilots ignorant of the meaning of the treacherous southern air which had been so welcome to them ; and CcBsar advanced inland as far as the Stoui. The Britons, after an unsuccessful stand to prevent the Romans from crossing the river, retired into the woods, where they had made tlKin- 296 Ccesar. selves ii fortress with felled trees. The weak defence was easily stormed ; the Britons were flying ; the Ro- mans were preparing to follow ; when an express came from Deal to tell C^sar that a gale had risen again, and the fleet was lying wrecked npon the shore. A second accident of the same kind mighi have seemed an omen of evil, but CiBsar did not be- lieve in omens. The even temperament of his mind was never discomposed, and at each moment he was able always to decide, and to do, what tlie moment required. The army was halted. He rode back him- self to the camp, to find that forty of his vessels only were entirely ruined. The rest were injured, but not irreparably. They were hauled up within the lines of the camp. He selected the best mechanics out of the legions; he sent across to Labienus for more, and directed him to build fresh transports in the yards at Boulogne. The men v^orked night and day, and in little more than a week Csesar was able to rejoin his troops and renew his march. The object of the invasion had been rather to se- cure the quiet of Gaul than the annexation of new subjects and further territory. But it could not be obtained till the Romans had measured themselves against the Britons, and had asserted their military superiority. The Britons had already shown them- selves a fearless race, who could not be despised. They fought bravely from their cars and horses, re- treated rapidly when overmatched, and were found dangerous when pursued. Encouraged by the report of the disaster to the fleet, Cassibelaunus, chief of the Cassi, whose headquarters were at St. Albans, had collected a considerable army from both sides of the Thames, and was found in strength in Csesar'a Second Invasion of Britain, 297 front when he again began to move. Thej^ attacked his foraging parties. They set on his flanking de- tachments. They left their cars, and fouglit on foot when they could catch an advantage ; and remounted and were swiftly oat of the reach of the heavily armed Roman infantry. The Gaulish horse pursued, but did not know the country, and suffered more harm than they inflicted. Thus the British gave Caesar considerable trouble, which he recorded to their credit. Not a word can be found in his Com- mentaries to the disparagement of brave and open ad- versaries. At length he forced them into a battle, where their best warriors were killed. The confed- eracy of tribes dissolved, and never rallied again, and he pursued his march thenceforward with little mo- lestation. He crossed the Medway, and reached the Thames seemingly at Sunbury. There was a ford there, but the river was still deep, the ground was staked, and Cassibelaunus with his own people was on the other side. The legions, however, paid small attention to Cassibelaunus ; they plunged through with the water at their necks. The Britons dis- persed, driving off their cattle, and watching his march from a distance. The tribes from the eastern counties made their submission, and at Cccsar's or- ders supplied him with corn. Caesar marched on to St. Albans itself, then lying in the midst of forests jind marshes, where the cattle, the Cassi's only wealth, had been collected for security. St. Albans and the cattle were taken ; Cassibelaunus sued for peace ; the days were drawing in ; and Caesar, having no intention of wintering in Britain, considered he had done enough, and need go no farther. He re- turned as he had come. The Kentish men had at- 298 Cce.mr, tacked the camp in his absence, but liad been beaten off with heavy loss. The Romans had sallied out upon them, killed as many as they could catch, and taken one of their chiefs. Thenceforward they had been left in quiet. A nominal tribute, which was never paid, was assigned to the tribes who had submitted. The fleet was in order, and all was ready for depart- ure The only, but unhappily too valuable, booty which they had carried off consisted of some thousands of prisoners. These, when landed in Gaul, were dis- posed of to contractors, to be carried to Italy and sold as slaves. Two trips were required to transport the increased numbers ; but the passage was accom- plished without accident, and the whole army was again at Boulogne. Thus ended the expedition into Britain. It had been undertaken rather for effect than for material advantage ; and everything which had been aimed at had been gained. The Gauls looked no more across the Channel for support of insurrections ; the Ro- mans talked with admiration for a century of the far land to which Cgesar had borne the eagles ; and no exploit gave him more fame with his contemporaries. Nor was it without use to have solved a geographical problem, and to have discovered with certainty what the country was, the white cliffs of which were visi- ble from the shores which were now Roman territory. Caesar ^luring his stay in Britain had acquired a fairly accurate notion of it. He knew that it was an isl- and, and he knew its dimensions and shape. He knew that Ireland lay to the west of it, and Ireland, he had been told, was about half its pize. He had heard of the Isle of Man, and how it was situated. To the extreme north above Britain he had ascer- Account of Britain. 299 fcained that there were other islands, where in winter the sun scarcely rose above the horizon ; and he had observed through accurate measurement by water- clocks that the midsummer nights in Britain were shorter than in the south of France and Italy. He had inquired into the natural products of the coun- try. There were tin mines, he found, in parts of the island, and iron in small quantities ; but copper T^as imported from the Continerii. The vegetation re- sembled that of France, save that he saw no beech and no spruce pine. Of more consequence were the people and the distribution of them. The Britons of the interior he conceived to be indigenous. The coast was chiefly occupied by immigrants from Belgium, as could be traced in the nomenclature of places. The country seemed thickly inhabited. The flocks and herds were large ; and farm buildings were frequent, resembling those in Gaul. In Kent especially, civil- ization was as far advanced as on the opposite conti- nent. The Britons proper from the interior showed fewer signs of progress. They did not break the ground for corn ; they had no manufactures ; they lived on meat and milk, and were dressed in leather. They dyed their skins blue that they might look more terrible. They wore their hair long, and had long moustaches. In their habits they had not risen out uf the lowest order of savagery. They had wives in common, and brothers and sisters, parents and chil- dren, lived together with promiscuous unrestraint. From such a country not much was to be gained in the way of spoil ; nor had much been expected. Sinc^e Cicero's conversion, his brother Quintus had joined Caisar, and was now attending him as one of lua lieutenant-generals. The brothers were in intimiitf 500 Ccemr. correspondence. Cicero, though he watched the British expedition with interest, anticipated that Quintus would bring nothing of value back with him but slaves ; and he warned his friend. Atticus, who dealt extensively in such commodities, that the slaves from Britain would not be found of superior qual- ity.i 1 *'Britannici belli exitus exspectatur. Constat enim, aditus insulae esse munitos mirificis molibus. Etiam illud jam cognitum est, neque ar- gent! scrupulum esse ullum in ilia insula, neque ullam spem prjedse, nisi ex mancipiis: ex quibis nullos puto te litteris aut musicis eruditos exspec- tare." — Ad Atticum, iv. 16. It does not appear what Cicero meant by the "mirificaj moles" which guarded the approaches to Britain, whether Dover Clifi or the masses of sand under water at the Groodwins. CHAPTER XVII. The summer had passed off gloriously for the Ra- man arms. The expedition to Britain had produced all the effects which Caesar ex- pev^.ted from it, and Gaul was outwardly calm. Be- low the smooth appearance the elements of disquiet were silently working, and the winter was about to produce the most serious disaster and the sharpest trials which Caesar had yet experienced. On his re- turn from Britain he held a council at Amiens. The harvest had been bad, and it was found expedient, for their better provision, to disperse the troops over a broader area than usual. There were in all eight legions, with part of another to be disposed of, and they were distributed in the foUow^ing order : Lucius Roscius was placed at Seex, in Normandy; Quintus Cicero at Charleroy, not far from the scene of the battle with the Nervii. Cicero had chosen this posi- tion for himself as peculiarly advantageous ; and his brother speaks of Caesar's acquiescence in the ar- rangement as a special mark of favor to himself. Labienus was at Lavacherie, on the Ourtlie, about seventy miles to the southeast of Cicero ; and Sabi- iius and Cotta were at Tongres, among the Aduatuci, not far from Li^ge, an equal distance from him to tlio northeast. Caius Fabius had a legion at St. Pol, be- tween Calais and Arras; Trebonius one at Amiens; Marcus Crassus one at Montdidier ; Munatius Plan- cus one across the Oise, near Compiegne. Rosciua 302 Cmar. was far off, but in a comparatively q^L.et country, The other camps lay within a circle, two hundred miles in diameter, of which Bavay was the centre. Amiens was at one point on the circumference. Ton- gres, on the opposite side of it, to the northeiist. Sabinus, beinr the most exposed, had, in addition to his legion, a lew cohorts lately raised in Italy. Caesar^ having no particular business to take him over the Alps, remained with Trebonius attending to general business. His dispositions had been carefully watched by the Gauls. Ca3sar, they supposed, would go away as usual ; they even believed that he had gone ; and a conspiracy was formed in the north to destroy the legions in detail. The instigator of the movement was Induciomarus, the leader of the patriot party among the Treveri, whose intrigues had taken Caesar to the Moselle be- fore the first visit to Britain. At that time Inducio- marus had been able to do nothing ; but a fairer op- portunity had arrived. The overthrow of the great German horde had affected powerfully the semi-Teu- tonic populations on the left bank of the Rhine. The Eburones, a large tribe of German race occupying the country between Li^ge and Cologne, had given in their submission ; but their strength was still undi- minished, and Induciomarus prevailed on their two .chiefs, Ambiorix and Catavolcus, to attack Sabinus and Cotta. It was midwinter. The camp at Ton- gres was isolated. The nearest support was sevei^ty miles distant. If one Roman camp was taken, In- duciomarus calculated that the country would rise ; the others could be separately surrounded, and Gaul would be free. The plot was well laid. An in- trenched camp being difficult to storm, the confeder. BevoU of the Uburones. 303 ates decided to begin by treachery. Ambiorix was personally known to many of the Roman officers. He sent to Sabinus to say that he wished to commu- nicate with him on a matter of the greatest conse- quence. An interview being granted, he stated that a general conspiracy had been formed through the whole of Gaul to surprise and destroy the legions. Each station was to be attacked on the same da;r, that they might be unable to support each other. He pretended himself to have remonstrated ; but liis tribe, he said, had been carried away by the general enthusiasm for liberty, and he could not keep them back. Vast bodies of Germans had crossed the Rhine to join in the war. In two days at the furthest they would arrive. He was under private obligations to Caesar, who had rescued his son and nephew in the fight with the Aduatuci, and out of gratitude he wished to save Sabinus from destruction, which was otherwise inevitable. He urged him to escape while there was still time, and to join either Labienus or Cicero, giving a solemn promise that he should not be molested on the road. A council of officers was held on the receipt of this unwelcome information. It was thought unlikely chat the Eburones would rise by themselves. It was probable enough, therefore, that the conspiracy was more extensive. Cotta, who was second in command, was of opinion that it would be rash and wrong lo leave the camp without Caesar's orders. They had abundant provisions. They could hold their own lines against any force which the Germans could bring upon them, and help would not be long in reaching them. It would be preposterous to take so grave a step on the advice of an enemy. Sabinus un- 804 Ccesar, fortunately thought differently. He had been over- cautious in Brittany, though he had afterwards re- deemed his fault. Csesar, he persuaded himself, had left the country ; each commander therefore must act on his own responsibility. The story told by Am- biorix was likely in itself. The Germans were known to be furious at the passage of the Rhine, the destruc- tion of Ariovistus, and their other defeats. Gaul ra- sented the loss of its independence. Ambiorix waa acting like a true friend, and it would be madness to refuse his offer. Two days' march would bring them to their friends. If the alarm was false, they could return. If there was to be a general insurrection, the legions could not be too speedily brought together. If they waited, as Cotta advised, they would be sur- rounded, and in the end would be starved into sur- render. Cotta was not convinced, and the majority of offi- cers supported him. The first duty of a Roman army, he said, was obedience to orders. Their busi- ness was to hold the post which had been committed to them, till they were otherwise directed. The offi- cers were consulting in the midst of the camp, sur- rounded hy the legionaries. " Have it as you wish," Sabinus exclaimed, in a tone which the men could hear ; '' I am not afraid of being killed. If thing.} go amiss, the troops will understand where to lay the blame. If you allowed it they might in forty-eight hours be at the next quarters, facing the chances of war with their comrades, instead of perishing here alone by sword or hunger." Neither party would give way. The troops joined in the discussion. They were willing either to go or to stay, if thoir commanders would agree ; but they Revolt of the JEburones. 305 said that it must be one thing or the other ; disputes would be certain ruin. The discussion lasted till midnight. Sabinus was obstinate, Cotta at last with- drew his opposition, and the fatal resolution wa.s formed to march at dawn. The remaining hours of the night were passed by the men in collecting such valuables as they wished to take with them. Every- thing seemed ingeniously done to increase the diffi- culty of remaining, and to add to the perils of the march by the exhaustion of the troops. The Meuse lay between them and Labienus, so they had selected to go to Cicero at Charleroy. Their course lay up the left bank of the little river Geer, Trusting to the promises of Ambiorix, they started in loose order, followed by a long train of carts and wagons. The Eburones lay, waiting for them, in a large valley, two miles from the camp. When most of the cohorts were entangled in the middle of the hollow, the enemy appeared suddenly, some in front, some on both sides of the valley, some behind threatening the baggage. Wise men, as Caesar says, anticipate pos- sible difficulties, and decide beforehand what they will do if occasions arise. Sabinus had foreseen noth- ing, and arranged nothing. Cotta, who had expected what might happen, was better prepared, and did tlie best that was possible. The men had scattered among the wagons, each to save or protect what he could. Cotta ordered them back, bade tliem leave the carts to their fate, and form together in a ring. He did right, Caesar thought ; but the effect was un- fortunate. The troops lost heart, and the enemy was encouraged, knowing that the baggage would only be abandoned when the position was desperate. The Eburones were under good command. They did 30 306 Coemr. not, as might have been expected, fly upon the plua« der. They stood to their work, well aware that the carts would not escape them. They were not in great numbers. Csesar specially says that the Ro- mans were as numerous as they. But everything else was against the Romans. Sabinus could give no directions. They were in a narrow meadow, with wooded hills on each side of them filled with enemies whom they could not reach. When they charged, the light-footed barbarians ran back ; when they re- tired, they closed in upon them again, and not a dart, an arrow, or a stone missed its mark among the crowded cohorts. Bravely as the Romans fought, they were in a trap where their courage was useless to them. The battle lasted from dawn till the after- noon, and though they were falling fast, there was no flinching and no cowardice. Csesar, who inquired particularly into the minutest circumstances of the disaster, records bj^ name the officers who distin- guished themselves ; he mentions one whose courage he had marked before, who w^as struck down with a lance through his thighs, and another who was killed rescuing his son. The brave Cotta was hit in the mouth by a stone as he was cheering on his men. The end came at last. Sabinus, helpless and dis- tracted, caught sight of Ambiorix in the confusion, and sent an interpreter to implore him to spare the remainder of the army. Ambiorix answered, that Sabinus might come to him, if he pleased ; he hoped he might j^ersuade his tribe to be merciful ; he prom- ised that Sabinus himself should suffer no injury. Sabinus asked Cotta to accompany him. Cotta said he would never surrender to an armed enemy ; and, wounded as he was, he stayed with the legion. Sabi* Destruction of Sabinus. 307 nus, followed by the rest of the surviviiig officera whom he ordered to attend him, proceeded to the spot where the chief was standing. They were com- manded to lay down their arms. They obeyed, and were immediately killed ; and with one wild yell the barbarians then rushed in a mass on the deserted co- horts. Cotta fell, and most of the others with him. The survivors, with the eagle of the legion, which they had still faithfully guarded, struggled back in the dusk to their deserted camp. The standard- bearer, surrounded by enemies, reached the fosse, flung the eagle over the rampart, and fell with the last effort. Those that were left fought on till night, and then, seeing that hope was gone, died like Ro- mans on each other's swords — a signal illustration of the Roman greatness of mind, which had died out among the degenerate patricians, but was living in all its force in Caesar's legions. A few stragglers, who had been cut off during the battle from their com- rades, escaped in the night through the woods, and carried the news to Labienus. Cicero, at Chai-leroy, was left in ignorance. The roads were beset, and no messenger could reach him. Induciomarus understood his countrymen. The conspiracy with which he had frightened Sabinus had not as yet extended beyond a few northern chiefs, but the success of Ambiorix produced the effect which he desired. As soon as it was known that two Roman generals had been cut off, the remnants of the Aduatuci and the Nervii were in arms for their own revenge. The smaller tribes along the Meuse and Sambre rose with them ; and Cicero, taken by sur- prise, found himself surrounded before he had a thought of danger. The Gauls, knowing that their 308 Caesar, chances depended on the capture oi tne second camp before assistance could arrive, flung themselves so desperately on the intrenchments that the legionaries were barely able to repel the first assault. The as- sailants were driven back at last, and Cicero dis- patched messengers to Ca3sar to Amiens, to give him ]iotice of the rising ; but not a man was able to pene- trate through the multitude of enemies which now swarmed in the woods. The troops worked gallantly, strengthening the weak points of their fortifications. In one night they raised a hundred and twenty tow- ers on their walls. Again the Gauls tried a storm, and, though they failed a second time, they left the garrison no rest either by day or night. There was no leisure for sleep ; not a hand could be spared from the lines to care for the sick or wounded. Cicero was in bad health, but he clung to his work till the men carried him by force to his tent and obliged him to lie down. The first surprise not having succeeded, the Nervian chiefs, who knew Cicero, desired a par- ley. They told the same story which Ambiorix had told, that the Germans had crossed the Rhine, and that all Gaul was in arms. They informed him of the destruction of Sabinus ; they warned him that the same fate was hanging over himself, and that his only hope was in surrender. The}^ did not wish, they said, to hurt either him or the Roman people ; he and his troops would be free to go where they pleased, but they were determined to prevent ihe legions from quartering themselves permanently in their country. There was but one Sabinus in the Roman arm3^ Cicero answered with a spirit worthy of his country, that Romans accepted no conditions from enemies in Quintus Cicero leaieged. 309 The Gauls might, if they pleased, send a dep- utation to Cajsar, and hear what he would say to them. For himself, he had no authority to listen to thera. Force and treachery being alike unavailing, they resolved to starve Cicero out. They liad watched the Roman strategy. They had seen and felt the value of the intrenchments. They made a bank and ditch all round the camp, and, though they had no tools but their swords with which to dig turf and cut trees, so many there were of them that the work was completed in three hours.^ Having thus pinned the Romans in, they slung red-hot balls and flung darts carrying lighted straw over the ramparts of the camp on the thatched roofs of the soldiers' huts. The wind was high, the fire spread, and amidst the smoke and the blaze the Gauls again rushed on from all sides to the assault. Roman disci- pline was never more severely tried, and never showed its excellence more signally. The houses and stores of the soldiers were in flames behind them. The enemy were pressing on the walls in front, covered by a storm of javelins and stones and arrows, but jiot a man left his post to save his property or to ex- tinguish the fire. They fought as they stood, strik- ing down rank after rank of the Gauls, who still crowded on, trampling on the bodies of their com- panions, as the foremost lines fell dead into the ditch. Such as reached the wall never left it alive, for they were driven forward by the throng behind on the swords of the legionaries. Thousands of them had fallen before, in desperation, they drew back at last. i Caesar says their trenches were fifteen miles long. This i?, perhaps, a mistake of the transcriber. A Roman camp did not usually cover mon than a few acres. 310 Coesar. But Cicero's situation was almost desperate too. The huts were destroyed. The majority of the men were wounded, and those able to bear arms were daily growing weaker in number. Caesar was 120 miles distant, and no word had reached him of the danger. Messengers were again sent o£E, but they were caught one after another, and were tortured to death in front of the ramparts, and the boldest men shrank from risking their lives on so hopeless an enterprise. At length a Nervian slave was found to make another adventure. He was a Gaul, and could easily disguise himself. A letter to Csesar was inclosed in the shaft of his javelin. He glided out of the camp in the dark, passed undetected among the enemies as one of them- selves, and, escaping from their lines, made his way to Amiens. Swiftness of movement was Csesar's distinguishing excellence. The legions were kept ready to march at an hour's notice. He sent an order to Crass us to join him instantly from Montdidier. He sent to Fabius at St. Pol to meet him at Arras. He wrote to Labi- enus, telling him the situation, and leaving him to his discretion to advance or to remain on his guard at Lavacherie, as might seem most prudent. Not caring to wait for the rest of his army, and leaving Crassus to take care of Amiens, he started himself, the morn- ing after the information reached him, with Treboni- us's legion to Cicero's relief. Fabius joined him, as he had been directed, at Arras. He had hoped for La- bienus's presence also ; but Labienus sent to say that he was surrounded by the Treveri, and dared not stir. Caesar approved his hesitation, and with but two le- gions, amounting in all to only 7,000 men, he hurried forward to the Nervian border. Learning that Cicero Relief of Cicero, 811 was still holding out, he wrote a letter to him in Greek, that it might be unintelligible if intercepted, to tell him that help was near. A Gaul carried the letter, and fastened it by a line to his javelin, which he flung over Cicero's rampart. The javelin stack in the side of one of the towers, and was unobserved for several days. The besiegers were better informed. They learnt that Caesar was at hand, that he had but a handful of men with him. By that time their own numbers had risen to 00,000, and, leaving Cicero to be dealt with at leisure, they moved off to envelope ^nd destroy their great enemy. Csesar was well sened by spies. He knew that Cicero was no longer in ' m- mediate danger, and there was thus no occasion for him to risk a battle at a disadvantage to relieve Lim. When he found the Gauls near him, he encamped, drawing his lines as narrowly as he could, that from the small show which he made they might imagine his troops to be even fewer than they were. He in- vited attack by an ostentation of timidity, and having tempted the Gauls to become the assailants, he flung open his gates, rushed out upon them with his whole force, and all but annihilated them. The patriot army was broken to pieces, and the unfortunate Ner- vii and Aduatuci never rallied from this second blow. Caesar could then go at his leisure to Cicero and his comrades, who had fought so nobly against such des- perate odds. In every ten men he found that there was but one unwounded. He inquired with minute curiosity into every detail of the siege. In a general address he thanked Cicero and the whole legion. He thanked the officers man by man for their gallantry and fidelity. Now for the first time (and that he could have remained ignorant of it so long speaks for ol2 Ccesar. the passionate unanimity with which the Gauls had risen) he learnt from prisoners the fate of Sabinus. He did not underrate the greatness of the catastrophe. The soldiers in the army he trusted always as friends and comrades in arms, and the loss of so many of them was as personally grievous to him as the effects of it might be politically mischievous. He made it the subject of a second speech to his own and to Cic- ero's troops, but he spoke to encourage and to console. A serious misfortune had happened, he said, tiirough the fault of one of his generals, but it must be borne with equanimity, and had already been heroically ex- piated. The meeting with Cicero must have been an interesting one. He and the two Ciceros had been friends and companions in youth. It would liave been well if Marcus Tullius could have remembered in the coming years the personal exertion with which Caesar had rescued a brother to whom he was so warmly attached. Communications among the Gauls were feverishly rapid. While the Nervii were attacking Cicero, In- duciomarus and the Treveri had surrounded Labienus at Lavacherie. Caesar had entered Cicero's camp at three o'clock in the afternoon. The news reached Induciomarus before midnight, and he had disap- peared by the morning. Caesar returned to Amiens, but the whole country was now in a state of excite- ment. He had intended to go to Italy, but he aban- doned all thoughts of departure. Rumors came of messengers hurrying to and fro, of meetings at night in lonely places, of confederacies among the patriots. Even Brittany w^as growing uneasy ; a force had been collected to attack Roscius, though it had dispersed ttfter the relief of Cicero. Caesar again summoned Labienus attacked, 318 the chiefs to come to him, and between threats and encouragements succeeded in preventing a general ris- ing. But the tribes on the upper Seine broke into disturbance. The JEdui and the Remi alone re- mained really loyal; and it was evident that only a leader was wanted to raise the whole of Gaul. Cae- sar himself admitted that nothing could be more jiat- ural. The more high-spirited of the Gauls were mis- erable to see that their countrymen had so lost conceit of themselves as to submit willingly to the Roman rule. Induciomarus was busy all the winter, soliciting help from the Germans, and promising money and lands. The Germans had had enough of fighting the Romans, and, as long as their own independence was not threatened, were disinclined to move ; but Indu- ciomarus, nothing daunted, gathered volunteers on all sides. His camp became a rallying point for disaffec- tion. Envoys came privately to him from distant tribes. He, too, held his rival council, and a fresh attack on the camp of Labienus was to be the first step in a general war. Labienus, well informed of what was going on, watched him quietly from his in- trenchments. When the Gauls approached, he af- fected fear, as Csesar had done, and he secretly formed a body of cavalry, of whose existence they had no suspicion. Induciomarus became cat-eless. Day after day he rode round the intrench ments, insulting the Romans as cowards, and his men flinging their jave- lins over the walls. Labienus remained passive, till one evening, when, after one of these displays, the loose bands of the Gauls had scattered, he sent his horse out suddenly with orders to fight neither with «mall nor groat, save with Induciomarus only, and 314 Coesar, promisiDg a reward for his head. Fortune favorei him. Induciomarus was overtaken and killed in a ford of the Ourthe, and for the moment the agitation was cooled down. But the impression which had been excited by the destruction of Sabinus was still telling through the country. Cabsar expected fresh trouble in the coming summer, and spent the rest of the winter and spring in preparing for a new strug- gle. Future peace depended on convincing the Gauls of the inexhaustible resources of Italy; on showing them that any loss which might be inflicted could be immediately repaired, and that the army could and would be maintained in whatever strength might be necessary to coerce them. He raised two fresh le- gions in his own province. Pompey had formed a legion in the north of Italy, within Caesar's bounda- ries, for service in Spain. Caesar requested Pompey to lend him this legion for immediate purposes ; and Pompey, who was still on good terms with Caesar, recognized the importance of the occasion, and con- sented without difficulty. Thus amply reinforced, Ciesar, before the grass had begun to grow, took the field against the tribes which were openly disaffected. The first business was to punish the Belgians, who had attacked Cicero. He fell suddenly on the Nervii with four legions, seized their cattle, wasted their country, and carried off thousands of them to be sold into slavery. Return- ing to Amiens, he again called the chiefs about him, and, the Seine tribes refusing to put in an appearance, he transferred the council to Paris, and, advancing by rapid marches, he brought the Senones and Car- nutes to pray for pardon.^ He then turned on the 1 People about Sens, Melun, and Chartres. i Second Conquest of the Belgoe. 315 Treveri and their allies, who, under Ambiorix, had destroyed Sabinus. Leaving Labienus with the addi- tional legions to check the Treveri, he went himself into Flanders, where Ambiorix was hiding among the rivers and marshes. He threw bridges over the dykes, burnt the villages, and carried off an enormous spoil, of cattle and, alas ! of men. To favor and enrich the tribes that submitted after a first defeat, to depopu- late the determinately rebellious by seizing and sell- ing as slaves those who had forfeited a right to hia protection, was his uniform and, as the event proved, entirely successful policy. The persuasions of the Treveri had failed with the nearer German tribes ; but some of the Suevi, who had never seen the Ro- mans, were tempted to adventure over and try their fortunes ; and the Treveri were waiting for them, to set on Labienus, in Csssar's absence. Labienus went in search of the Treveri, tempted them into an engagement by a feigned flight, killed many of them, and filled his camp with prisoners. Their German allies retreated again across the river, and the patriot chiefs, who had gone with Inducio- marus, concealed themselves in the forests of West- phalia. Caesar thought it desirable to renew the ad- monition which he had given the Germans two years before, and again threw a bridge over the Rhine at the same place where he had made the first, but a little higher up the stream. Experience made the construc- tion more easy. The bridge was begun and finished in a few days, but this time the labor was thrown away. The operation itself lost its impressiveness by repeti- tion, and the barrenness of practical results was more Fvident than before. The Sueves, who had gone home, xrere far away in the interior. To lead the heavily 816 Ccesa^ . armed legions in pursuit of wild light-footed maiau ders, who had not a town which could be burned, or a field of corn which could be cut for food, was to wastc- their strength to no purpose, and to prove still more plainly that in their own forests they were beyond the reach of vengeance. Caesar drew back again, after a brief visit to his allies the Ubii, cut two hundred feet of the bridge on the German side, and leaving the rest standing with a guard to defend it, he went in search of Ambiorix, who had as yet eluded him, in the Ar- dennes. Ambiorix had added treachery to insurrec- tion, and as long as he was free and unpunished the massacred legion had not been fully avenged. Caesar was particularly anxious to catch him, and once had found the nest warm which Ambiorix had left but a few moments before. In the pursuit he came again to Tongres, to the fatal camp which Sabinus had deserted and in which the last of the legionaries had killed each other, rather than degrade the Roman name by allowing themselves to be captured. The spot was fated, and narrowly escaped being the scene of a second catastrophe as frightful as the first. The intrenchments were stand- ing as they were left, ready to be occupied. Caasar, finding himself incumbered by his heavy baggage in the pursuit of Ambiorix, decided to leave it there with Quintus Cicero and the 14th legion. He was going himself to scour Brabant and East Flanders an far as the Scheldt. In seven days he promised to return, and meanwhile he gave Cicero strict directions to keep the legion within the lines, and not to allow any of the men to stray. It happened that after Caesar recrossed the Rhine two thousand German horse had followed in bravado, and were then plundering be- Cicero again in Danger. 317 fcween Tongres and the river. Hearing that there was a rich booty in the camp, that Csesar was away, and only a small party had been left to guard it, they decided to try to take the place by a sudden strolce. Cicero, seeing no sign of an enemy, had pennittod his men to disperse in foraging parties. The Gei «- mans were on them before they could recover their mtrenchments, and they had to form at a distance and defend themselves as they could. The gates of the camp were open, and the enemy were actually inside before the few maniples who were left there were able to collect and resist them. Fortunately Sextius Baculus, the same officer who had so brill- iantly distinguished himself in the battle with the Nervii, and had since been badly wounded, was lying sick in his tent, where he had been for five days, un- able to touch food. Hearing the disturbance, Bacu- lus sprang out, snatched a sword, rallied such men aa he could find, and checked the attack for a few min- utes. Other officers rushed to his help, and the le- gionaries having their centurions with them recovered their steadiness. Sextius Baculus was again severely hurt, and fainted, but he was carried off in safety. Some of the cohorts who were outside, and had been for a time cut off, made their way into the camp to join the defenders, and the Germans who had come without any fixed purpose, merely for plunder, gave way and galloped off again. They left the Romans, however, still in the utmost consternation. The scene and the associations of it suggested the most gloomy anticipations. ' They thought that German cavahy ji on Caesar's embarrassments. The death of Clodius liad been followed by the burning of the Senate-house and by many weeks of anarchy. To leave Italy at such a moment might be to leave it a prey to faction or civil war. His anxiety was relieved at last by hearing that Pompey had acted, and tliat order was restored ; and seeing no occasion for his own inter- ference, and postponing the agitation for his second consulship, he hurried back to encounter the final and convulsive effort of the Celtic race to preserve their liberties. The legions were as yet in no danger. They were dispersed in the North of France, far from the scene of the present rising, and the North- ern tribes had suffered too desperately in the past years to be in a condition to stir without assistance. But how was Caesar to join them? The garrisons in the province could not be moved. If he sent for the army to come across to him, Vercingetorix would at- tack them on the march, and he could not feel confi- dent of the result ; while the line of the old frontier of the province was in the hands of the insurgents, or of tribes who could not be trusted to resist the temptation, if he passed through himself without more force than the province could supply. But Caesar had a resource which never failed him in the dai\ng swiftness of his own movements. He sent for the troops which were left beyond the Alps. He had a few levies with him to fill the gaps in the old le- gions, and after a rapid survey of the stations on the provincial frontier he threw himself upon the passes of the Cevennes. It was still winter. The snow lay eix feet thick on the mountains, and the roads at that season were considered impracticable even for single Revolt of Craul. 845 travellers. The Auvergne rebels dreamt of nothing so little as of Caesar's coming upon them at such a time and from such a quarter. He forced his way. He fell on them while they were lying in imagined security, Vercingetorix and his army being absent watching the ^dui, and, letting loose his cavalry, he laid their country waste. But Vercingetorix, he knew, would fly back at the news of his arrival ; and he had ah-eady made his further plans. He formed a strong intrenched camp, where he left Decimus Brutus in charge, telling him that he would return as quickly as possible ; and, unknown to any one, lest the troops should lose courage at parting with him, he flew across through an enemy's country with a handful of attendants to Vienne, on the Rhone, where some cavalry from the province had been sent to wait for him. Vercingetorix, supposing him still to be in the Auvergne, thought only of the camp of Brutus ; and Ceesar, riding day and night through the doubtful territories of the ^dui, reached the two legions which were quartered near Auxerre. Thence he sent for the rest to join him, and he was at the head of his army before Vercingetorix knew that only Brutus was in front of him. The -zEdui, he U'usted, would now remain faithful. But the problem before him was still most intricate. The grass had not begun to grow. Rapid movement was essential to prevent the rebel confederacy from consolidating .tself ; but rapid movements with a large force re- quired supplies ; and whence were the supplies to come ? Some risks had to be run, but to delay was the most dangerous of all. On the defeat of the Helvetii, Caisar had planted a colony of them at Gorgobines, near Nevers, on the Loire. These col* 846 Ccesar. onists, called Boii, Lad refused to take part in the ^-ising ; and Vercingetorix, turning in contempt from Brutus, had gone off to punish them. Caesar ordf^red the ^dui to furnish his commissariat, sent word to the Boii tliat he was coming to their relief, swept througli tte Senones, that he might leave no enemy in his rear, and then advanced on Gien, where the Roman traders had been murdered, and which the Carnutes still occupied in force. There was a bridge there over the Loire, by which they tried to escape in the night. Caesar had beset the passage. He took the whole of them prisoners, plundered and burnt the town, gave the spoil to his troops, and then crossed the river and went up to help the Boii. He took Nevers. Vercingetorix, who was hastening to its relief, ventured his first battle with him ; but the cavalry, on which the Gauls most depended, were scattered by Caesar's German horse. He was en- tirely beaten, and C^sar turned next to Avaricum (Bourges), a rich and strongly fortified town of the Bituriges. From past experience Caesar had gath- ered that the Gauls were easily excited and as easily discouraged. If he could reduce Bourges, he hoped that this part of the country would return to its al- legiance. Perhaps he thought that Vercingetoris himself would give up the struggle. But he had to deal with a spirit and with a man different from any which he had hitherto encountered. Disappointed in his political expectations, baffled in strategy, and now defeated in open fight, the young chief of the 4rverni had only learnt that he had taken a wrong mode of carrying on the war, and that he was wast- ing his real advantages. Battles in the field he saw that he would lose. But the Roman numbers were Revolt of Gaul. 347 limited, and his were infinite. Tens of thousands of gallant young men, with their light, active hoi'ses, were eager for any work on which he might set them. They could scour the country far and wide. They could cut off Caesar's supplies. They could turn the fields into a blackened wilderness before hivii on whichever side he might turn. The hearts of the people were with him. They consented to a univer- sal sacrifice. They burnt their farmsteads. They burnt their villages. Twenty towns (so called) of the Bituriges were consumed in a single day. The tribes adjoining caught the enthusiasm. The horizon at night was a ring of blazing fires, Vercingetorix was for burning Bourges also ; but it was the sacred home of the Bituriges, the one spot which they im- plored to be allowed to save, the most beautiful city in all Gaul. Rivers defended it on three sides, and on the fourth there were swamps and marshes which could be passed only by a narrow ridge. Within the walls the people had placed the best of their prop- erty, and Vercingetorix, against his judgment, con- sented, in pity for their entreaties, that Avaricuin should be defended. A strong garrison was left in- side. Vercingetorix intrenched himself in the for- ests sixteen miles distant, keeping watch over Caesar's communications. The place could only be taken by regular approaches, during which the army had to be fed. The JEdui were growing negligent. The feeblt> Boii, grateful, it oeemed, for Cesar's treatment of them, exerted themselves to the utmost, but their ismall resdurces were soon exhausted. For many days the legions were without bread. The cattle had been driven into the woods. It came at last to actual fam- ine.^ '' But not one word was heard from them/' 1 "Kxtrema fames." — De Bell Gall. vii. 17. 348 CcBsar. says Caesar, " unworthy of the niajesty of the Roman people or their own earlier victories." He told them that if the distress became unbearable he would raise the siege. With one voice they entreated him to per- severe. They had served many years with him, they said, and had never abandoned any enterprise which tliey had undertaken. They were ready to endure any di.^gree of hardship before they would leave un- avenged their countrymen who had been murdered at Gien. Vercingetorix, knowing that the Romans were in difficulties, ventured nearer. Ciesar surveyed his po- sition. It had been well chosen behind a deep morass. The legions clamored to be allowed to advance and attack him, but a victory, he saw, would be dearly purchased. No condemnation could be too severe for him, he said, if he did not hold the lives of his sol- diers dearer than his own interest,^ and he led them back without indulging their eagerness. The siege work was unexpectedly difficult. The inhabitants of the Loire country were skilled artisans, trained in mines and iron works. The walls, built of alternate layers of stone and timber, were forty feet 'm thickness, and could neither be burnt nor driven m with the ram. The town could be taken only with the help of an agger — a bank of turf and fag- jots raised against the wall of sufficient height to overtop the fortifications. The weather was cold and wet, but the legions worked with such a will that in twenty-five days they had raised their bank at last, a hundred yards in width and eighty feet high. As the work drew near its end Caesar himself lay out all 1 " Sumnia se iniquitatis con lemnari debere nisi eorum vltam sua saluU fiabeat caiiorem." Siege of Bourge^, 849 oight among the men, encouraging them. One morn- ing at daybreak he observed that the agger was smok- ing. The ingenious Gauls had undermined it and set it on fire. At the same moment they appearevl along the walls with pitch-balls, torches, faggots, which they hurled in to feed the flames. There was Hn instant of confusion, but Caesar uniformly had t\so legions under arms while the rest were working. The Gauls fought with a courage which called out his warm admiration. He watched them at the points of greatest danger falling under the shots from the scorpions, and others stepping undaunted into their places to fall in the same way. Their yalor was unavailing. They were driven in, and the flames were extinguished ; the agger was level with the walls, and defence was no longer possible. The gar- rison intended to slip away at night through the ruins to join their friends outside. The wailing of the women was heard in the Roman camp, and escape was made impossible. The morning after, in a tem- pest of rain and wind, the place was stormed. The legionaries, excited by the remembrance of Gien and the long resistance, slew every human being that they found, men, women, and children all alike. Out of forty thousand who were within the walls eight hun- dred only, that had fled at the first sound of the at- tack, made their way to the camp of Vercingetorix. Undismayed by the calamity, Vercingetorix made use of it to sustain the determination of his followers. He pointed out to them that he had himself opposed the defence. The Romans had defeated them, not l)y superior courage, but by superior science. The heart of the whole nation was united to force the Romans out of Gaul, and they had only to persevere 860 CcBsar. in a course of action where science would be useless, to be sure of success in the end. He fell back upon his own country, taking special care of the pooi creat- ures who had escaped from the carnage ; and the ef- fect of the storming of Bourges was to make the na= tional enthusiasm hotter and fiercer than before. The Romans found in the town large magazines of corn and other provisions, which had been laid in for the siege, and Caesar remained there some days to re- fresh his troops. The winter was now over. The -/Edui were giving him anxiety, and as soon as he could he moved to Decize, a frontier town belonghig to them on the Loire, almost in the very centre of France. The anti-Roman faction were growing in influence. He called a council of the principal persons, and, to secure the fidelity of so important a tribe, he deposed the reigning chief and appointed another who had been nominated by the Druids.^ He lect- ured the ^dui on their duty, bade them furnish him with ten thousand men, who were to take charge of the commissariat, and then divided his army. La- bienus, with four legions, was sent to compose the country between Sens and Paris. He himself, with the remaining six legions, ascended the right bank of the Allier towards Gergovia in search of Vercinget- orix. The bridges on the Allier were broken, but Caesar seized and repaired one of them and carried his army over. The town of Gergovia stood on a high plateau, where the rivers rise which run into the Loire on one side and into the Dordogne on the other. The sides of the hill are steep, and only accessible at a very few places, and the surrounding neighborhood is broken 1 /)e Bell Gall vii. 33. Siege of Giergovia. 351 (vith rocky valleys. Vercingetorix lay in force out- side, but in a situation where he could not be attacked except at disadvantage, and with his communication with the fortress secured. He was departing again from his general plan for the campaign in allowing Gergovia to be defended ; but it was the central home of his own tribe, and the result showed that he was right in believing it to be impregnable. Csesar saw that it was too strong to be stormed, and that it could only be taken after long operations. After a few skirmishes he seized a spur of the plateau which cut off the garrison from their readiest water-supply, and he formed an intrenched camp upon it. He was studying the rest of the problem when bad news came that the ^dui were unsteady again. The ten thousand men had been raised as he had ordered, but on their way to join him they had murdered the Ro- man officers in charge of them, and were preparing to go over to Vercingetorix. Leaving two legions to guard his works, he intercepted the JEduan contin- gent, took them prisoners, and protected their lives. In his absence Vercingetorix had attacked the camp with determined fury. The fighting had been des- perate, and Ciesar only returned in time to save it. The reports from the iEdui were worse and worse. The patriotic faction had the upper hand, and with the same passionate determination to commit them- selves irrecoverably, which had been shown before at Glien, they had massacred every Roman in their ter- ritory. It was no time for delaying over a tedious siege : Csesar was on the point of raising it, when ac- cident brought on a battle under the walls. An op- portunity seemed to offer itself of capturing the place by escalade, which part of the army attempted con- 352 Coesar, trary to orders. They fought with more than their usual gallantry. The whole scene was visible from the adjoining hills, the Celtic women, with Icng, Btreaming hair, wildly gesticulating on the walls. The Romans were driven back with worse loss than they had yet met with in Gaul. Forty-six officers and seven hundred men had been killed. C^sar was never more calm than under a reverse. He addressed the legions the next day. He compli- mented their courage, but he said it was for the gen- eral and not for them to judge when assaults should be tried. He saw the facts of the situation exactl}^ as rhey were. His army was divided. Labienus was far away with a separate command. The whole of Gaul was in flames. To persevere at Gergovia would only be obstinacy, and he accepted the single military failure which he met with when present in person through the whole of his Gallic campaign. Difficulties of all kinds were now thickening. Cae- sar had placed magazines in Nevers, and had trusted them to an JEduan garrison. The JEduans burnt the town and carried the stores over the Loire to their own strongest fortress, Bibracte (Mont Beauvray). The river had risen from the melting of the snows, and could not be crossed without danger ; and to feed the army in its present position was no longer possible. To retreat upon the province would be a confession of defeat. The passes of the Cevennes would be swarming with enemies, and Labienus with his f >ur legions in the west might be cut off. With swift de- cision he marched day and night to the Loire. He :ound a ford where the troops could cross with the water at their armpits. He sent his horse over and cleared the banks. The army passed safely. Food Lahienus on the Seim. 353 enough and in plenty was found in the ^duans' coun- tiy, and without waiting he pressed on towards Sens to reunite his forces. He understood the Gauls, and foresaw what must have happened. Labienus, when sent on his separate command, had made Sens his head-quarters. All down the Seino the country was in insurrection. Leaving the new Italian levies at the station, he went with his experi- enced troops down the left bank of the river till he came to the Essonne. He found the Gauls in trenched on the other side, and, without attempting to force the passage, he marched back to Mtiliin, where he repaired a bridge which the Gauls had broken, crossed over, and descended without interrup- tion to Paris. The town had been burnt, and the enemy were watching him from the further bank. At this moment he heard of the retreat from Gergo- via, and of the rebellion of the iEdui. Such news, he understood at once, would be followed by a rising in Belgium. Report had said that Caesar was falling back on the j^rovince. He did not believe it. Cyesar, he knew, would not desert him. His own duty, there.- fore, was to make his way back to Sens. But to leave the army of Gauls to accompany his retreat across the Seine, with the tribes rising on all sides, was to expose himself to the certainty of being inter- cepted. '^ In these sudden difficulties," says Ccesar, ''he took counsel from the valor of his mind." ^ He had brought a fleet of barges with him from Melun. These he sent down un perceived to a point at the bend of the river four miles below Paris, and directed them to wait for him there. When night fell he de- 1 "Tantis subito difficultatibus objVctis ab aoirni virtute coasiliuin pe- kebat." 2'^ 854 CcBsar. tached a few cohorts with orders to go np thcj rivei with boats as if they were retreating, splashing their oars, and making as much noise as possible. He him- self with three legions stole silently in the darkness to h:s barges, and passed over without being observed. The Gauls, supposing the whole army to be in fliglit for Sens, were breaking up their camp to follow ia boisterous confusion. Labienus fell upon them, tell- ing the Romans to Jfight as if Caesar was present in person; and the courage with which the Gauls fought in their surprise only made the overthrow more com- plete. The insurrection in the northwest was for the moment paralyzed, and Labienus, secured by his in- genious and brilliant victory, returned to his quarters without further accident. There Caesar came to him as he expected, and the army was once more to- gether. Meanwhile the failure at Gergovia had kindled the enthusiasm of the central districts into white heat. The JEdui, the most powerful of all the tribes, were now at one with their countrymen, and Bibracte be- came the focus of the national army. The young Vercingetorix was elected sole commander, and his plan, as before, was to starve the Romans out. Flj^- ing bodies harassed the borders of the province, so that no reinforcements could reach them from the south. Caesar, however, amidst his conquests had the art of making staunch friends. What the province could not supply he obtained from his allies across the Rhine, and he furnished himself with bodies of German cavalry, which when mounted on Roman horses proved invaluable. In the new form which the insurrection had assumed the ^dui ^Yere the lirst tc be attended to. CoBsar advanced le'surely upon I Alesia. 355 them, through the high country at the rise of the Seine and the Marne, towards Alesia, or Alice St. , Heine. Vercingetorix watched him at ten miles' dis- \ tance. He supposed him to be making for the prov- ince, and his intention was that Caesar should nev^er reach it. The Celts at all times have been fond of emphatic protestations. The young heroes swore a solemn oath that they would not see wife or children or parents more till they had ridden twice through the Roman army. In this mood they encountered Caesar in the valley of the Vingeanne, a river which falls into the SaOne, and they met the fate which necessarily befell them when their ungovernable mul- titudes engaged the legions in the open field. They were defeated with enormous loss : not they riding through the Roman army, but themselves ridden over and hewn down by the German horsemen and sent flying for fifty miles over the hills into Alice St. Reine. Caesar followed close behind, driving Vercin- getorix under the lines of the fortress; and the siege of Alesia, one of the most remarkable exploits in all military history, was at once undertaken. Alesia, like Gergovia, is on a hill sloping off all round, with steep and, in places, precipitous sides. It lies between two small rivers, the Ose and the Oserain, both of which fall into the Brenne and thence into the Seine. Into this peninsula, with the rivers on each side of him, Vercingetorix had thrown himself with eighty thousand men. Alesia as a po- sition was impregnable except to famine. The water- supply was secure. The position was of extraordi- nary strength. The rivers formed natural trenches. Below the town to the east they ran parallel for three miles through an open alluvial plain before tl}0} 350 Cvesar, reached the Breniie. In every other direction ^ose rocky hills of equal height with the central plateau, originally perhaps one wide tableland, through which the waters had ploughed ouc the valleys. To attack V^ercingetorix where he had placed himself was cut of the question; but to blockade hini there, to cap- lure tlie leader of the insurrection and his whole army, and so in one blow make an end with it, on a survey of the situation seemed not impossible. The Gauls had thought of nothing less than of being be- sieged. The provisions laid in could not be consider- able, and so enormous a multitude could not hold out many days. At once the legions were set to work cuttin^r trenches or building walls as the form of the ground allowed. Camps were formed at different spots, and twenty-three strong blockhouses at the points which were least defensible. The lines where the circuit was completed were eleven miles long. The part most exposed was the broad level meadow which spread out to the west towards the Brenne river. Vercingetorix had looked on for a time, not under- standing what was happening to him. When he did understand it, he made desperate efforts on his side to break the net before it closed about him. But he could do notliinor. The Gauls could not be brouojht to face the Roman intrenchments. Their cavalry were cut to pieces by the German horse. The only hope was from help without, and before the lines were entirely finished horsemen were sent out with orders to ride for their lives into every district in Gaul and raise the entire nation. The crisis had come. If the countrymen of Vercingetorix w^Te worthy of their fathers, if the enthusiasm with which J Alesia. 357 they bad risen for freedom was not a mere emotion, but the expression of a real purpose, their young leader called on them to come now, every man of them, and seize Caesar in the trap into which he had betrayed himself. If, on the other hand, they were careless, if they allowed him and his eighty thousand men to perish without an effort to save them, the in- dependence which they had ceased to deserve would be lost forever. He had food, he bade the messen- gers say, for thirty days ; by thrifty management it might be made to last a few days longer. In thirty days he should look for rehef . The horsemen sped away like the bearers of the fiery cross. Caesar learnt from deserters that they had gone out, and understood the message which they carried. Already he was besieging an army far out- numbering his own. If he persevered, he knew that he might count with certainty on being attacked by a second army immeasurably larger. But the time allowed for the collection of so many men might also serve to prepare for their I'eception. Vercingetorix said rightly that the Romans won their victories, not by superior courage, but by superior science. The same power of measuring the exact facts of the situa- tion which determined Caesar to raise the siege of Gergovia decided him to hold on at Alesia. He knew exactly, to begin with, how long Vercingetorix could hold out. It was easy for him to collect pro- visions within his lines which would feed his own army a few days longer. Fortifications the same in kind as those which prevented the besieged from breaking out would equally serve to keep the assail- ants off. His plan was to make a second line ol works — an exterior line as well as an interiou line ; 358 Ccesar. 1 and as the extent to be defended would thus bo doubled, he made them of a peculiar construction, to enable one man to do the work of two. There is no occasion to describe the rows of ditches, dry and wet , the staked pitfalls, the cervi, pronged instrument 8 like the branching horns of a stag ; the stimuli, barbed spikes treacherously concealed to impale tlie unwary and hold him fast when caught, with which the ground was sown in irregular rows ; the vallus and the lorica, and all the varied contrivances of Ro- man engineering genius. Military students will read the particulars for themselves in Caesar's owai lan- guage. Enough that the work was done within the time, with the legions in perfect good humor, and giving jesting names to the new instruments of tor- ture as Csesar invented them. Vercingetorix now and then burst out on the working parties,- but pro- duced no effect. They knew what they were to ex- pect when the thirty days were out ; but they knew their commander, and had absolute confidence in his judgment. Meanwhile, on all sides, the Gauls were respond- ing to the call. From every quarter, even from far- off parts of Belgium, horse and foot were streaming along the roads. Commius of Arras, Caesar's old friend, who had gone with him to Britain, was caught with the same frenzy, and was hastening among the rest to help to end him. At last two hundred and fifty thousand of the best fighting men that Gaul could produce had collected at the ap- pointed rendezvous, and advanced with the easy con- viction that the mere impulse of so mighty a force would sweep Caesar off the earth. They were late in arriving. The thirty days had passed, and there Alesia. 359 were no signs of the coming deliverers. Eager eyes were straining from the heights of the plateau > bat nothing was seen save the tents of the legions or the busy units of men at work on the walls and trenches. Anxious debates were held among the beleaguered chiefs. The faint-hearted wished to surrender before they were starved. Others were in favor of a des- perate effort to cut their way through or die. One speech Csesar preserves for its remarkable and fright- ful ferocity. A prince of Auvergne said that the Romans conquered to enslave and beat down the laws and liberties of free nations under the lictors' axes, and he proposed that sooner than yield they should kill and eat those who were useless for fight- ing. Vercingetorix was of noble nature. To prevent the adoption of so horrible an expedient, he ordered the peaceful inhabitants, with their wives and chil- dren, to leave the town. Caesar forbade them to pass his lines. Cruel — but war is cruel ; and where a garrison is to be reduced by famine the laws of it are inexorable. But the day of expected deliverance dawned at last. Five miles beyond the Brenne the dust-clouds of the approaching host were seen, and then the glit- ter of their lances and their waving pennons. They swam the river. They filled the plain below the town. From the heights of Alesia the whole scene lay spread under the feet of the besieged. Vercin- getorix came down on the slope to the edge of the first trench, prepared to cross when the turn of bat- tle should give him a chance to strike. Caesar sent out his German horse, and stood himself watching from the spur of an adjoining hill, The Gauls had 360 Caesar. brouglit iniiiiiiieriblo archers with them. The horse flinched slightly under the showers of arrows, and shouts of triumph rose from the lines of the town ; but the Germans rallied again, sent the cavalry of the Gauls flying, and hewed down the unprotected arch- ers. Vercingetorix fell back sadly to his camp on the hill, and then for a day there was a pause. The relieving army had little food with them, and if they acted at all must act quickly. They spread over the country collecting faggots to fill the trenches, and making ladders to storm the walls. At midnight they began their assault on the lines in the pla,in : and Vercingetorix, hearing by the cries that the v7ork had begun, gave his own signal for a general sally. The Roman arrangements had been completed long before. Every man knew his post. The slings, the crossbows, the scorpions were all at hand and in or- der. Mark Antony and Gains Trebonius had each a flying division under them to carry help where the pressure was most severe. The Gauls were caught on the cervi, impaled on the stimuli, and fell in heaps under the bolts and balls which were poured from the walls. They could make no impression, and fell back at daybreak beaten and dispirited. Vercinget- orix had been unable even to pass the moats and trenches, and did not come into action till his friends had abandoned the attack. The Gauls had not yet taken advantage of their enormous numbers. Defeated on the level ground, they next tried the heights. The Romans were dis- tributed in a ring now fourteen miles in extent. On the north side, beyond the Ose, the works were in- complete, owing to the nature of the ground, and their lines lay on the slope of the hills descending to- Battle before Alesia, 361 wards the river. Sixty tliousancl picked men left the Gauls' camp before dawn ; they stole round by a dis- tant route, and were allowed to rest concealed in a valley till the middle of the day. At noon they came over tlie ridge- at the Romans' back ; and they had the best of the position, being able to attack from above. Their appearance was the signal for a gen- eral assault on all sides, and for a determined sally by Vercingetorix from within. Thus before, behind, and everywhere, the legions were assailed at the same moment ; and Csesar observes that the cries of battle in the rear are always more trying to men than the fiercest onset upon them in front ; because what they cannot see they imagine more formidable than it is, and they depend for their own safety on the courage of others. Caesar had taken his stand where he could com- mand the whole action. There was no smoke in those engagements, and the scene was transparently visible. Both sides felt that the deciding trial had come. In the plain the Gauls made no more impres- sion than on the preceding day. At the weak point on the north the Romans were forced back down the slope, and could not hold their positions. Caesar saw it, and sent Labienus with six cohorts to their help. Vercingetorix had seen it also, and attacked the in- terior lines at the same spot. Decimus Brutus was tlien dispatched also, and then Cains Fabius. Fi- nally, when the lighting grew desperate, lie left his own station ; he called up the reserves whicli had not yet been engaged, and he rode across the field, con- spicuous in his scarlet dress and with his bare head, cheering on the men as he passed each point where they were engaged, and hastening to the scene inhere 862 Vmar. the chief danger lay. He sent round a few squ tdrona of horse to the back of the hills which the Gauls had crossed in the morning. He himself jomed Labienus. Wherever he went he carried enthusiasm along with him. The legionaries flung away their darts and rushed upon the enemy sword in hand. The cavalry appeared above on the heights. The Gauls wavered, broke, and scattered. The German horse were among them, hewing down the brave but now helpless patriots who had come with such high hopes and had fought so gallantly. Out of the sixty thousand that had sallied forth in the morning, all but a draggled remnant lay dead on the hill-sides. Seventy-four standards were brought in to Caesar. The besieged retired into Alice again in despair. The vast hosts that Avere to have set them free melted away. In the morning they were streaming over the country, making back for their homes, with Cesar's cavalry behind them, cutting them down and capturing them in thousands. The work was done. The most daring feat in the military annals of mankind had been successfully ac- complished. A Roman army which could not at the utmost have amounted to fifty thousand men had held blockaded an army of eighty thousand — not weak Asiatics, but European soldiers, as strong and as brave individually as the Italians were ; and thej^ had defeated, beaten, and annihilated another army which had come expecting to overwhelm them, five times as large as their own. Seeing that all was over, Vercingetorix called the chiefs about him. He had gone into the war, he said, for no object of his own, but for the liberty of his country. Fortune had gone against him; and he advised them to make their peace, either by kiiliug Defeat of the Gauls. 86S him and sending his head to the conqueior or by de- livering him up alive. A humble message of sub- mission was dispatched to Caesar. He demanded an unconditional surrender, and the Gauls, starving and hopeless, obeyed. The Roman general sat amidst the works in front of the camp while the chiefs one by one were produced before him. The brave Ver- cingetorix, as noble in his calamnity as Caesar himself in his success, was reserved to be shown in triumph to the populace of Rome. The whole of his army were prisoners of war. The JEdui and Arverni among them were set aside, and were dismissed after a short detention for political reasons. The remain- der were sold to the contractors, and the proceeds were distributed as prize-money among the legions. Caesar passed the winter at Bibracte, receiving the submission of the chiefs of the JEdui and of the Auvergne. Wounds received in war soon heal if gen- tle measures follow a victory. If tried by the man- ners of his age, Caesar was the most merciful of con- querors. His high aim was, not to enslave the Gauls, but to incorporate them in the Empire; to extend the privileges of Roman citizens among them and among all the undegenerate races of the European provinces. He punished no one. He was gracious and consid- erate to all, and he so impressed the central tribes by his judgment and his moderation that they served him faithfully in all his coming troubles, and never more, even in the severest temptation, made an effort to recover their independence. Much, however, remained to be done. The insur- rection had shaken the whole of Gaul. The B. C. 51. distant tribes had all joined in it, either ifcctively or by sympathy ; and the patriots who had 364 Ccesar. Beized the control despairing of pardon, thought their only hope was in keeping rebellion alive. During winter they believed themselves secure. The Car- nutes of the Eure and Loire, under a new chief named Gutruatus,^ and the Bituriges, untaught by or savage at the fate of Bourges, were still defiant. When the winter was at its deepest, Csesar suddenly appeared across the Loire. He caught the country people unprepared, and captured them in their farms. The swiftness of his marches baffled alike flight and resistance ; he crushed the whole district down, and he was again at his quarters in forty days. As a re- ward to the men who had followed him so cheerfully in the cold January campaign, he gave each private legionary 200 sesterces and each centurion 2,000. Eighteen days' rest was all that he allowed himself, and with fresh troops, and in storm and frost, he started for the Carnutes. The rebels were to have no rest till they submitted. The Bellovaci were now out also. The Remi alone of all the Gauls had con- tinued faithful in the rising of Vercingetorix. The Bellovaci, led by Commius of Arras, were preparing to burn the territory of the Remi as a punishment. Commius was not as guilty, perhaps, as he seemed. Labienus had suspected him of intending mischief when he was on the Seine in the past summer, and had tried to entrap and kill him. Anyway Csesar's first object was to show the Gauls that no friends of Rome would be allowed to suffer. He invaded Nor- mandy ; he swept the country. He drove the Bello- vaci and the Carnutes to collect in another great army to defend themselves; he set upon them with his usual skill, and destroyed them. Commius es- i Gudrund V The word has a German sound. Final Sap2)ressi:)i of the Revolt, 365 Csiped over the Rhine to Germany. Gutruatns was taken. Csesar would have pardoned him ; but the legions were growing savage at these repeated and useless commotions, and insisted on his execution. The poor wretch was flogged till he was insensible, and his head was cut off by the lictor's axe. All Gaul was now siibmisssive, its spirit broken, and, as tlie event proved, broken finally, except \n the southwest. Eight years out of the ten of Caesar's government had expired. In one corner of the coun- try only the dream still survived that if the patriots could hold out till Csssar was gone, Celtic liberty might yet have a chance of recovering itself. A sin- gle tribe on the Dordogne, relying on the strength of a fortress in a situation resembling that of Gergovia, persisted in resistance to the Roman authority. The spirit of national independence is like a fire : so long as a spark remains a conflagration can again be kindled, and Caesar felt that he must trample out the last ember that was alive. Uxellodunum — so the place was named — stood on an inaccessible rock, and was amply provisioned. It could be taken only as Edinburgh Castle was once taken, by cutting off its water ; and the ingenious tunnel may still be seen by which the Roman engineers tapped the spring that supplied the garrison. They, too, had then to yield, and the war in Gaul was over. The following winter Caesar spent at Arras. He wished to hand over his conquests to his successor not only subdued but reconciled to subjection. He invited the chiefs of all the tribes to come to him. He spoke to them of the future which lay open to them as members of a splendid Imperial State. He gave them magnificent presents. He laid no impos' 366 Ccesar ■ fcioiis either on the leaders or their people, and fcliey went to their homes personally devoted to their con- queror, contented with their condition, and resolved to maintain the peace which was now established — a unique experience in political history. The Norman Conquest of England alone in the least resembles it. In the spring of 50 Caesar went to Italy. Strange things had happened meanwhile in Rome. So long as there was a hope that Caesar would be destroyed by the insurrection the ill-minded Senate had waited to let the Gauls do the work for him. The chance was gone. He had risen above his perils more brill- iant than ever, and nothing now was left to them but to defy and trample on him. Servius Galba, who was favorable to Caesar, had stood for the consulship for 49, and had received a majority of votes. The election was set aside. Two patricians, Lentulus and Caius Marcellus, were declared chosen, and their avowed purpose was to strip the conqueror of Gaul of his honors and rewards.^ The people of . B. C 50 his own Cisalpine Province desired to show that they at least had no sympathy with such enven- omed animosities. In the colonies in Lombardy and Venetia Caesar was received with the most passionate demonstrations of affection. The towns were dressed out with flags and flowers. The inhabitants crowded into the streets with their wives and children to look at him as he passed. The altars smoked with offer- ings ; the temples were thronged with worshippers graying the immortal gods to bless the greatest of 1 ** Insolenter adversarii sui gloriabantur L. Lentulum et C. Marcellum consules creates, qui omnem hcnorem et dignitatem Caesaris exspoliarent. Ereptum Servlo Galb?e consulatum cura is niulto plus gratia suffragiisque valuisset, quod sibi conjunctus et familiaritate et necessitiidine legaiionii esset." — AuU Ilirtii De Bell. Gall. viii. 50. State of Feeling in Italy, 367 the Romans. He had yet one more year to govern. After a brief stay he rejoined his army. He spent the summer in organizing the administration of the dif- ferent districts and assigning his officers their various commands. That he did not at this time contemplate any violent interference with the Constitution may be proved by the distribution of his legions, which remained stationed far away in Belgium and on the Loire. CHAPTER XX. Cbasstjs liad been destroyed by the Parthiaiis* The nomination of his successor lay with the Senate, and the Senate gave a notable evidence of their incapacity for selecting competent governors for the provinces by appointing in his place Caesar's old colleague, Bibulus. In their whole num- ber there was no such fool as Bibulus. When he ar- rived in Syria he shut himself into a fortified town, leaving the Parthians to plunder and burn at their ^pleasure. Cicero mocked at him. The Senate thanked him for his distinguished services. The few serious men in Rome thought that Caesar or Pompey should be sent out ; ^ or, if they could not be spared, at least one of the consuls of the year — Sulpicius Rufus or Marcus Marcellus. But the consuls were busj^ with home politics and did not wish to go, nor did they wish that others should go and gather laurels instead of them. Therefore nothing was done at all,^ and Syria was left to fate and Bibulus. The consuls and the aristocracy had, in fact, more serious matters to attend to. Caesar's time was running out, and when it was over he had been promised the con- sulship. That consulship the faction of the Con- servatives had sworn that he should never hold. Cato was threatening him with impeachment, blus- tering that he should be tried under a guard, as Mi)o 1 ** Cstlius ad Ciccronem," Ad Fom. viii. 10. ^ Ibid. I Fears of the Aristocracy. 369 had been.^ Marcellus was saying openly that he would call him home in disgrace before his term was over. Como, one of the most thriving towns in the north of Italy, had been enfranchised by Caesar. An eminent citizen from Como happening to be at Rome, Marcellus publicly flogged him, and bade him go back and tell his fellow-townsmen the value of Caesar's gift to them. Cicero saw the folly of such actions ; ^ but the aristocracy were mad — mad with pride and conscious guilt and fear. The ten years of Caesar's government would expire at the end of 49. The en- gagement had been entered into that he was to see his term out with his army and to return to Rome for 48 — as consul. They remembered his first con- sulship and what he had done with it, and the laws which he had passed — laws which they could not re- peal ; yet how had they observed them ? If he had been too strong for them all when he was but one of themselves, scarcely known beyond the Forum and Senate-house, what would he do now, when he was recognized as the greatest soldier which Rome had produced, the army, the people, Italy, the provinces all adoring his name? Consul again he could not, must not be. Yet how could it be prevented ? It was useless now to bribe the Comitia, to work with clubs and wire-pullers. The enfranchised citizens would come to vote for Caesar from every country town. The legionaries to a man would vote for him ; and even in the venal city he was the idol of the hour. No fault could be found with his administra- tion. His wars had paid their own expenses. He 1 Suetonius, De Vito. Julii CcBsaris. 3 *' Marcellus foede de Comensi. Etsi ills magistratura non gesserat, erat tamen Transpadanus. Ita mihi videtur non minus stomachi DO«tro M C»8aii fecisse." — To Atticus^ v. 11. 24 370 Cce.sar. had doubled the pay of his troops, but his military chest was still full, and his own wealth seemed boundless. He was adorning the Forum with new and costly buildings. Senators, knights, young men of rank who had been extravagant, had been relieved by his generosity and were his pensioners. Gaul might liave been impatient at its loss of liberty, but no word of complaint was hftard against Caesar for oppressive government. The more genius he had shown the more formidable he was. Let him be con- sul, and he would be the master of them all. Caesar has been credited with far-reaching designs. It has been assumed that in early life he had designed the overthrow of the constitution ; that he pursued his purpose steadily through every stage in his career, and that he sought the command of Gaul only to ob- tain an army devoted to him which would execute his will. It has not seemed incredible that a man of middle age undertook the conquest of a country of which nothing was known save that it was inhabited by warlike races, who more than once had threatened to overrun Italy and destroy Rome ; that he went through ten years of desperate fighting exposed to a thousand dangers from the sword, from exposure and hardship ; that for ten years he had banished himself t'rom Rome, uncertain whether he would ever see it again ; and that he had ventured upon all this with no other object than that of eventually controlling domestic politics. A lunatic might have entertained such a scheme, but not a Caesar. The Senate knew him. They knew what he had done. They knew what he would now do, and for this reason they feared And hated him. Caesar was a reformer. He had long seen that the Roman Constitution was too narrow ; Ambition of Ccesar, 371 the functions which had fallen to it, and that it waa degenerating into an instrument of tyranny and in- justice. The courts of law were corrupt ; the elec- tions were corrupt. The administration of the prov- inces was a scandal and a curse. The soil of Italy had become a monopoly of capitalists, and the inhab- itants of it a population of slaves. He bad exerted himself to stay the mischief at its fountain, to pun- ish bribery, to punish the rapacity of proconsuls and pro-prsetors, to purify the courts, to maintain respect for the law. He had endeavored to extend tlie fran- chise, to raise the position of the liberated slaves, to replace upon the land a free race of Roman citizens. The old Roman sentiment, the consciousness of the greatness of the country and of its miglity destinies, was chiefly now to be found in the armies. In the families of veteran legionaries, spread in farms over Italy and the provinces, the national spirit might re- vive ; and, with a due share of political power con- ceded to them, an enlarged and purified constituency might control the votes of the venal populace of the city. These were Caesar's designs, so far as could have been gathered from his earlier actions ; but the manipulation of elections, the miserable contests witli disaffected colleagues and a hostile Senate, were dreary occupations for such a man as he was. He was con- scious of powers which in so poor a sphere could find no expression. He had ambition doubtless — plenty of it — ambition not to pass away without leaving hia mark on the history of his country. As a statesman iie had done the most which could be done when he was consul the first time, and he had afterwards sought a free field for his adventurous genius in a new coun- try, and in rounding off into security the frontiers of 872 Ccesar. the Empire on the side where danger was most threat* ening. The proudest self-confidence could not have allowed him at his time of life to calculate on return- ing to Rome to take up again the work of reforma- tion. But Caesar had conquered. He had made a name for himself as a soldier before which the Scipios and the Luculluses, the Syllas and Pompeys paled their glory. He was coming back to lay at his country's feet a province larger than Spain — not subdued only, but reconciled to subjugation ; a nation of warriors, as much devoted to him as his own legions. The aristocracy had watched his progress with the bitter- est malignity. When he was struggling with tlie last spasms of Gallic liberty, they had talked in delighted W'hispers of his reported ruin.^ But his genius had risen above his difficulties and shone out more glori- ous than before. When the war was over the Senate had been forced to vote twenty days of thanksgiving. Twenty days were not enough for Roman enthusiasm. The people made them into sixty. If Caesar came to Rome as consul, the Senate knew too well what it might expect. What he had been before he would be again, but more severe, as his power was greater. Their own guilty hearts perhaps made them fear another Marian proscription. Unless his command could be brought to an end in some far different form, their days of power were numbered, and the days of inquiry and punishment would begin. Cicero had for some time seen what was coming. 1 '' Quod ad Caesarem crebri et uon belli de eo nimores. Sed susurrato- lesdumtaxat veniunt Neque adhuc certi quidquam est, neque Qsec incerta tameii vulgo jactantur. Sed inter paucos, quos tu nosti, palam secreto narrantiir. At Domitius cnm maniis ad os apposuit ! " — C»liui to Cicero, Ad Fam. viii. 1. Senatorial Intrigues, 373 He had preferred characteristically to be out of the way at the moment when he expected that the storm would break, and had accepted the government of Cilicia and Cyprus. He was thus absent while the active plot: w^as'in preparation. One great step had been gained — the Senate had secured Pompey. Ci» sar's greatness was too much for him. He could never again hope to be the first on the popular side, and he preferred being the saviour of the constitu- tion to playing second to a person whom he had pat- ronized. Pompey ought long since to have been in Spain with his troops ; but he had stayed at Rome to keep order, and he had lingered on with the same pretext. The first step was to weaken Csesar and to provide Pompey with a force in Italy. The Senate discovered suddenly that Asia Minor was in danger from the Parthians. They voted that Caesar and Pompey must each spare a legion for the East. Pom- pey p-ave as his part the les^ion which he B. C 60. had lent to Caesar for the last campaign. Caesar was invited to restore it and furnish anothei of his own. Caesar was then in Belgium. He saw the object of the demand perfectly clearly; but he sent the two legions without a word, contenting him- self with making handsome presents to the officers and men on their leaving him. When thej^ reached Italy the Senate found that they were wanted for home service, and they were placed under Pompey's command in Campania. The consuls chosen for the year 49 were Lucius Cornelius Lentulus and Caiua Marcellus, both of them Caesar's open enemies. Cae- sar himself had been promised the consulship (there could be no doubt of his election, if his name was sicceptod in his absence) for the year 48. He was to 374 Cmar. remain with his troops till his term had run out, and to be allowed to stand while still in command. This was the distinct engagement which the assembly had ratified. After the consular election had been secured in the autumn of 50 to the Conservative candidates, it was proposed that by a displacement of dates Cae- sar's government should expire, not at the close of the tenth year, but in the spring, on the 1st of March. Convenient constitutional excuses were found for the change. On the 1st of March he was to cease to be governor of Gaul. A successor was to be named to take over his army. He would then have to return to Rome, and would lie at the mercy of his enemies. Six months would intervene before the next elections, during which he might be impeached, incapacitated, or otherwise disposed of ; while Pompey and his two legions could effectually prevent any popular disturb- ance in his favor. The Senate hesitated before de- cisively voting the recall. An intimation was con- veyed to Caesar that he had been mistaken about his term, which would end sooner than he had supposed ; and the world was waiting to see how he would take it. Atticus thought that he would give way. His having parted so easily with two legions did not look like resistance, Marcus Caelius, a correspondent of Cicero, who had been elected praetor for 49, and kept his friend informed how things were going on, wrote in the autumn : — " All is at a standstill about the Gallic government. The subject has been raised, and is again postponed. Pompey 's view is plain, that Caesar must leave his province after the 1st of March .... but he does not think that before that time the Senate can prop- erly pass a resolution about it. After the 1st of Curio. 375 March he will have no hesitation. When he was asked what he would do if a tribune interposed, he said it made no difference whether Caesar himself dis- obeyed the Senate, or provided some one else to in- terfere with the Senate. Suppose, said one, Cresar wishes to be consul and to keep his array. Pompey answered, ' What if my son wishes to lay a stick on my back ?'.... It appears that Caesar will accept one or other of two conditions ; either to remain in his province, and postpone his claim for the consul- ship ; or, if he can be named for the consulship, then to retire. Curio is all against him. What he can accomplish, I know not; but I perceive this, that if CcBsar means well, he will not be overthrown." ^ The object of the Senate was either to ruin Caesar, if he complied with this order, or to put him in the wrong by provoking him to disobedience. The scheme was ingenious ; but if the Senate could mine, Caesar could countermine. Caelius said that Curio was vio- lent against him : and so Curio had been. Curio was a young man of high birth, dissolute, extravagant, and clever. His father, who had been consul five- and-twenty years* before, was a strong aristocrat and a close friend of Cicero's. The son had taken the same line ; but, among other loose companions, he had made the acquaintance, to his father's regret, of Mark Antony, and though they had hitherto been of opposite politics, the intimacy had continued. The Senate's influence had made Curio tribune for the year 49. Antony had been chosen tribune also. To the astonishment of everybody but Cicero, it appeared that these two, who were expected to neutralize each other, were about to work together, and to veto every 1 Cselias to Cicero, Ad. Fain. viii. 8. 376 Coesar. resolution which seemed an unfair return for Csesar'a services. Scandal said that young Curio was in money difficulties, and that Caesar had paid his debts for him. It was perhaps a lie invented by political malignity ; but if Curio was purchasable, Caesar woul J not have hesitated to buy him. His habit was to take facts as they were, and when satisfied that his object was just, to go the readiest way to it. The desertion of their own tribune was a serious blow to the Senate. Caelius, who was to be praetor, was inclining to think that Caesar would win, and therefore might take his side also. The constitu- tional opposition would then be extremely strong; and even Pompey, fiercely as he had spoken, doubted what to do. The question was raised in the Senate, whether the tribunes' vetoes were to be regarded. Marcellus, who had flogged the citizen of Como, voted for defying them, but the rest were timid. Pompey did not know his own mind.^ Caelius's ac- count of his own feelings in the matter represented probably those of many besides himself. '' In civil quarrels," he wrote to Cicero, " we ought to go with the most honest party, as long as the con- test lies within constitutional limits. When it is an affair of camps and battles, we must go with the strongest. Pompey will have the Senate and the men of consideration with him. All the discontented will go with C^sar. I must calculate the forces on b®th sides, before I decide on my own part." ^ When the question next came on in the Senate, Curio, being of course instructed in Caesar's wishes, professed to share the anxiety lest there should be a 1 Caelius to Cicero, Ad. Fam. viii. 13. 2 ih, viii. 14. Divisions in the Senate, 377 military Dictatorship ; but he said that the danger was as great from Pompey as from Caesar. He did not object to the recall of Csesar, but Pompey, he thought, should resign his province also, and the con- Btitution would then be out of peril. Pompey pro- fessed to be willing, if the Senate desired it ; but he insisted that Csosar must take the first step. Curio's proposal was so fair, that it gained favor both in Forum and Senate. The populace, who hated Pom* pey, threw flowers upon the tribune as he passed. Marcellus, the consul, a few days later, put the ques- tion in the Senate : Was Csesar to be recalled ? A majo^ty answered Yes. Was Pompey to be de- prived of his province ? The same majority said No. Curio then proposed that both Pompey and C^sar should dismiss their armies. Oat of three hundred and ninety-two senators present, three hundred and seventy agreed. Marcellus told them bitterly that they had voted themselves Csesar's slaves. But they were not all insane with envy and hatred, and in the midst of their terrors they retained some prudence, perhaps some conscience and sense of justice. By this time, however, the messengers who had been sent to com- municate the Senate's views to Cassar had returned. They brought no positive answer from himself ; but they reported that Caesar's troops were worn out and discontented, and certainly would refuse to support him in any violent action. How false their ac( ount of the army was the Senate had soon reason to know ; but it was true that one, and he the most trusted officer that Caesar had, Labienus, who had fought through so many battles with him in the Forum as well as in the field, whose high talents and character his Commentaries could never praise sufficientl}^ — 378 Coesar. it was true that Labienus had listened to the offers made him. Labienus had made a vast fortune in the war. He perhaps tliought, as other distinguished officers have done, that he was the person that had won the victories ; that without him Cassar, who wag being so much praised and glorified, would have bteii nothing ; and that he at least was entitled to an equal share of the honors and rewards that might be coming ; while if Cassar was to be disgraced, he might have the whole recompense for himself, Caesar heard of these overtures ; but he had refused to believe that Labienus could be untrue to him. He showed his confidence, and he showed at the same time the in- tegrity of his own intentions, by appointing the officer who was suspected of betraying him Lieutenant-gen- eral of the Cisalpine Province. None the less it was true that Labienus had been won over. Labienus had undertaken for his comrades; and the belief that Caesar could not depend on his troops renewed Pom- pey's courage and gave heart to the faction which wished to precipitate extremities. The aspect of things was now altered. What before seemed rash and dangerous might be safely ventured. Caesar had himself followed the messengers to Ravenna. To raise the passions of men to the desired heat, a re- port was spread that he had brought his troops across and was marching on Rome. Curio hastened oflt to him, to bring back under his own hand a distinct declaration of his views. It Avas at this crisis, in the middle of the winter 50-49, that Cicero returned to Rome. He had held his government but for two years, and instead of es- caping the catastrophe, lie found himself plunged into the heart of it. He had managed his proviiu-t-^ Cicero's Difficulties. 379 well. No one ever suspected Cicero of being corrupt or unjust. He had gained some respectable successes in putting down the Cilician banditti. He had been named Imperator by his soldiers in the field after an action in which he had commanded ; he had been flattering himself with the prospect of a triumph, and had laid up money to meet the cost of it. The quarrel between the two great men whom he had so long feared and flattered, and the necessity which might be thrown on him of declaring publicly on one side or the other, agitated him terribly. In October, as he was on his way home, he expressed his anxi- eties with his usual frankness to Atticus. " Consider the problem for me," he said, ''as it affects myself : you advised me to keep on terms both with Pompey and Caesar. You bade me adhere to one because he had been good to me, and to the other because he was strong. I have done so. I so ordered matters that no one could be dearer to either of them than I was. I reflected thus : while I stand by Pom- pey, I cannot hurt the Commonwealth ; if I agree with Caesar, I need not quarrel with Pompey ; so closely they appeared to be connected. But now they are at a sharp issue. Each regards me as liis friend, unless Caesar dissembles ; while Pompey id right in thinking, that what he proposes I shall ap- prove. I heard from both at the time at which I heard from you. Their letters were most polite. What am I do ? I don't mean in extremities. If it comes to fighting, it will be better to be defeated with one than to conquer with the other. But when I arrive at Rome, I shall be required to say if Caisa,* s to be proposed for the consulship in his absence, oi if he is to dismiss his army. What must 1 answer ? 880 Ocesar. Wait till I have consulted Atticus ? That will not do. Shall I go against Caesar ? Where are Pom- pey's resources ? I myself took Caesar's part about it. He spoke to me on the subject at Ravenna. I recommended his request to the tribunes as a reason- able one. Pompey talked with me also to the same purpose. Am I to change my mind ? I am ashamed to oppose him now. Will you have a fool's opinion ? I will apply for a triumph, and so I shall have an ex- cuse for not entering the city. You will laugh. But oh, I wish I had remained in my province. Could I but have guessed what was impending ! Think for me. How shall I avoid displeasing Caesar ? He writes most kindly about a ' Thanksgiving ' for my success." ^ Caesar had touched the right point in congratulat- ing Cicero on his military exploits. His friends in the Senate had been less delicate. Bibulus had been thanked for hiding from the Parthians. When Cic- ero had hinted his expectations, the Senate had passed to the order of the day. '^ Cato," he wrote, " treats me scurvily. He gives me praise for justice, clemency, and integrity, which I did not want. What I did want he will not let me have. Caesar promises me everything. — Cato has given a twenty days' thanksgiving to Bibulus. Par- don me, if this is more than I can bear. But I am relieved from my worst fear. The Parthians have left Bibulus half alive." 2 The shame wore off as Cicero drew near to Rome. He blamed the tribunes for insisting on what he had himself declared to be just. " Any way," he said, '' I stick to Pompey. When they say to me, Marcua ^ To AtticuSy vii. 1, abridged. 2 /ft. yij. 2. Oicero^s Difficulties. 381 TuUius, what do you think? I shall answer, I go with Pompey ; but privately I shall advise Poinpey to come to terms. We have to do with a man full of audacity and completely prepared. Every felon, every citizen who is in disgrace or ought to be in disgrace, almost all the young, the city mob, the tribunes, debtors, who are more numerous than I could have believed, all these are with Caesar. He wants nothing but a good cause, and war is always uncertain." ^ Pompey had been unwell at the beginning of De- cember, and had gone for a few days into the coun- try. Cicero met him on the 10th. " We were two hours together," he said. " Pompey was delighted at my arrival. He spoke of my triumph, and prom- ised to do his part. He advised me to keep away from the Senate, till it was arranged, lest I should offend the tribunes. He spoke of war as certain. Not a word did he utter pointing to a chance of compromise. — My comfort is that Csesar, to whom even his enemies had allowed a second consulship, and to whom fortune had given so much power, will not be so mad as to throw all this away." ^ Cicero had soon to learn that the second consulship was not BO certain. On the 29th he had another long con- versation with Pompey.* " Is there hope of peace ? " he wrote, in reporting what had passed. '' So far as I can gather from his very full expressions to me, he does not desire it. For he thinks thus : If Csesar be made consul, even after he has parted from his army, the constitution will be at an end. He thinks also that when Csesar hears of the preparations against him, he will drop the consulship for this year, to keep his province 1 To Atticus, vii. 3. 2 /ft. yii. 4. 382 Ccesar. and his troops. Should he be so insane as tc try ex- tremities, Pompey holds him in utter contempt. 1 thought, when he was speakhig, of the uncertainties of war ; but I was relieved to hear a man of courago and experience talk like a statesman of the dangers of an insincere settlement. Not only he does not seek for peace, but he seems to fear it. My own vexation is, that I must pay Caesar my debt, and spend thus what I had set apart for my triumph. It is indecent to owe money to a political antagonist."^ Events were hurrying on. Cicero entered Rome the first week in January, to find that the B. C 49. Senate had begun w^ork in earnest. Curio had returned from Ravenna with a letter from Caesar. He had offered three alternatives. First, that the agreement already made might stand, and that he might be nominated, in his absence, for the consul- ship ; or that when he left his army, Pompey should disband his Italian legions ; or, lastly, that he should hand over Transalpine Gaul to his successor with eight of his ten legions, himself keeping the north of Italy and Illyria with two, until his election. It was the first of January. The new consuls, Lentulus and Caius Marcellus, with the other magistrates, had en- tered on their offices, and were in their places in the Senate. Pompey was present, and the letter was in- troduced. The consuls objected to it being read, but they were overruled by the remonstrances of the trib- unes. The reading over, the consuls forbade a debate upon itj and moved that the condition of the Common- wealth should be taken into consideration. Lentulus, 1 "Mihi autem illud molesti&simum est, quod solvendi sunt numtni CaBsari, et instrumentum triumphi eo conferendnra. Est afxop^tov ir-ivoXt* ftvofiivov xp«w0ci\e7ij.v esse." — lb. viii. 8. Debate in the Senate. 38b the more impassioned of tliem, said that if the Senate would be firm, he would do his duty ; if they hesi* tated and tried conciliation, he should take care of himself, and go over to Caesar's side. Metellus ?cipiOj Pompey's father-in-law, spoke to the same purpose. Pompey, he said, was ready to support the constitu- tion, if the Senate were resolute. If they wavered, they would look in vain for future help from him> Marcus Marcellus, the consul of the preceding year, less wild than he had been when he flogged the Como citizen, advised delay, at least till Pompey w^as better prepared. Calidius, another senator, moved that Pompey should go to his province. Caesar's resent- ment at the detention of the two legions from the Parthian war, he thought, was natural and justifiable. Marcus Ruf us agreed with Calidius. But moderation was borne down by the violence of Lentulus ; and the Senate, in spite of theniselves,^ voted, at Scipio's dic- tation, that Csesar must dismiss his army before a day which was to be fixed, or, in default, would be de- clared an enemy to the State. Two tribunes, Mark Antony and Cassius Longinus, interposed. The tribunes' veto was as old as their institution. It had been left standing even by Sylla. But the aristocracy were declaring war against the people. They knew that the veto was coming, and they had resolved to disregard it. The more passionate the speakers, the more they were cheered by Caesar's enemies. The sitting ended in the evening without a final conclu- sion ; but at a meeting afterwards, at his house, Pom- pey quieted alarms by assuring the senators that there was nothing to fear. Caesar's army he knew to 1 **Inviti et coacti " is Caesar's expression. He wished, perhaps, U toften the Senate's action. {De Bello CivUi^ ». 2 ) 384 Ccemr. be disaffected, He introduced the officers of the twp.8ar paused at Rimini. Meanwhile the report reached Rome that Csesar had crossed the Rubicon. The aristocracy had nursed the pleasant behef tliat his heart would fail him, or that his army would desert him. His heart had not failed, his army had not de- serted ; and, in their terror, they saw him already in their midst like an avenging Marius. He January was coming. His horse had been seen on ^^' ^- ^^• the Apennines. Flight, instant flight, was the only safety. Up they rose, consuls, praetors, senators, leaving wives and children and property to their fate, not halting even to take the money out of the treas- ury, but contenting themselves with leaving it locked. On foot, on horseback, in litters, in carriages, they fled for their lives to find safety under Pompey'a wing in Capua. In this forlorn company went Cic- ero, filled with contempt for what was round him. ''You ask what Pompej^ means to do," he wrote to Atticus. " I do not think he knows himself. Cer- tainly none of us know. — It is all panic and blunder. We are uncertain whether he will make a stand, or leave Italy. If he stays, I fear his army is too unre- liable. If not, where will he go, and how and what are his plans ? Like you, I am afraid that Ca3sar will be a Phalaris, and that we may expect the very worst. The flight of the Senate, the departure of the magis- trates, the closing of the treasury, will not stop him. — • I am broken-hearted ; so ill-advisedly, so against all my counsels, the whole business has been conducted. Shall I turn my coat, and join the victors ? I am ashamed. Duty forbids me ; but I am miserable at the thought of my children." ^ 1 To Atticus, vii. 12. 392 . Omar. A gleam of hope came with tlie arrival of Labienus, | but it soon clouded. " Labienus is a hero," Cicero ' said. '' Never was act more splendid. * If nothing else comes of it, he has at least made Caesar smart. — We have a civil war on us, not because we have quar- ; relied among ourselves, but through one abandoned citizen. But this citizen has a strong army, and a large party attached to him. — What he will do I can- not say; he cannot even pretend to do anything con- stitutionally ; but what is to become of us, with a gen- eral that cannot lead ? — To say nothing of ten years of blundering, what could have been worse than this flight from Rome ? His next purpose I know not. I ask, and can have no answer. All is cowardice and confusion. He was kept at home to protect us, and protection there is none. The one hope is in two le- gions invidiously detained and almost not belonging to us. As to the levies, the men enlist unwillingly, and hate the notion of a war." ^ In this condition of things Lucius Caesar arrived with the answer from Rimini. A council of war was held at Teano to consider it ; and the flames which had burnt so hotly at the beginning of the month were found to have somewhat cooled. Cato's friend, Favonius, was still defiant; but the rest, even Cato himself, had grown more modest. Pompey, it was plain, had no army, and could not raise an army. Caesar spoke fairly. It might be only treachery; but the Senate had left their families and their property in Rome. The public money was in Rome. They were w^illing to consent that Caesar should be consul, since so it must be. Unluckily for themselves, they 1 Delectus .... invitorum est et pugnando ab horrentium. — To Al licvj, vii. 13. Pompey^s Reply to Ooesar, 393 left Pompey to draw up their reply. Pompey in- trusted the duty to an incapable person named Ses tins, and the answer was ill-written, awkward, and wanting on the only point which would have proved his sincerity. Pompey declined the proposed inter- view. Caesar must evacuate Rimini, and return to his province ; afterwards, at some time unnamed. Pompey would go to Spain, and other matters should be arranged to Caesar's satisfaction. Caesar must give securities that he would abide by his promise to dismiss his troops ; and meanwhile the consular levies would be continiied.^ • To Cicero these terms seemed to mean a capitula- tion clumsily disguised. Caesar interpreted them dif- ferently... To him it appeared that he was required to part with his own army, while Pompey was form- ing another. No time was fixed for the departure to Spain. He might be himself named consul, yet Pom- pey might be in Italy to the end of the year with an army independent of him. Evidently there was dis- trust on both sides, yet on Caesar's part a distrust not undeserved. Pompey would not see him. He had admitted to Cicero that he desired a war to prevent Caesar from being consul, and at this ver}^ moment was full of hopes and schemes for carrying it on suc- cessfully. '^ Pompey writes," reported Cicero on the 28th of January, " that in a few days he Avill have a force on which he can rely. He will occupy Pice- .ium,2 and we are then to return to Rome. Labienua assures him that Caesar is utterly weak. Thus he is m better spirits." ^ 1 Compare Caesar's account of these conditions, De Bello Civlli, i. 10, with Cicero to Atticus, vii. 17. 2 Between the Apponnines and the Adriatic, about Ancona; in the line *f Caesar's march should he advance from Rimini. » ToAUicas, vii. 16 394 Coesar. A second legion had by this time arrived at Rim ini. Cassar considered that if the Senate really de^ sired peace, their disposition would be quickened by further pressure. He sent Antony across the mount- ains to Arezzo, on the straight road to Rome; anJ he pushed on himself towards Ancona, before Pompey had time to throw himself in the way. The towns on the way opened their gates to him. The nmnic- ipal magistrates told the commandants that they could not refuse to entertain Caius Csesar, who had done such great things for the Republic. The officers fled. The garrisons joined Caesar's legions. Even a colony planted by Labienus sent a deputation with offers of service. Steadily and swiftly in gathering volume the army of the north came on. At Capua all was consternation. ''The consuls are helpless," Cicero said. '^ There has been no levy. The com- missioners do not even try to excuse their failure. With Caesar pressing forward, and our general doing nothing, men will not give in their names. The will is not wanting, but they are without hope. Pompey, February. miserable and incredible though it be, ia B. 0. 49. prostrate. He has no courage, no purpose, no force, no energy Caius Cassius came on the 7th to Capua, with an order from Pompey to the consuls to go to Rome and bring away the money from the treasury. How are they to go without an escort, or how return ? The consuls say he must go himself first to Picenum. But Picenum is lost. Cae- sar will soon be in Apulia, and Pompey on board ship. What shall I do ? I should not doubt had there not , been such shameful mismanagement, and had I been myself consulted. Ca3sar invites me to peace, but his letter was written before his advance." ^ 1 To Atticus, vii. 21. I Capture of Corjinium. 396 Desperate at the lethargy of their commandei, the aristocracy tried to force him into moveraeiit by* act- hig on their own account. Domitius, who had beeu appointed Coesar's successor, was most interested in. liis defeat. He gathered a party of young lords and knights and a few thousand men, and flung himself into Corfinium, a strong position in the Apennines, directly in Caesar's path. Pompey had still his two legions, and Domitius sent an express to tell him that Cs&sar's force was still small, and that with a slight effort he might inclose him in the mountains. Mean- while Domitius himself tried to break the bridge over the Pescara. He was too late. Caesar had by this time nearly 30,000 men. The Cisalpine territories in mere enthusiasm had raised twenty-two cohorts for him. He reached the Pescara while the bridge was still standing. He surrounded Corfinium with the impregnable lines which had served him so well in Gaul, and the messenger sent to Capua came back with cold comfort. Pompey had simply ordered Do- mitius to retreat from a position which he ought not to have occupied, and to join him in Apulia. It was easy to say Retreat ! No retreat was possible. Do- mitius and his companions proposed to steal away in the night. They were discovered. Their ow^n troops arrested them, and carried them as prisoners to Cae- sar. Fortune had placed in his hands at the outset of the campaign the man who beyond others had ^fe-cjn the occasion of it. Domitius would have killed Cae- sar like a bandit if he had caught him. He probably expected a similar fate for himself. Caesar received his captives calmly and coldly. He told them that they had made an ungrateful return to him for hi.s services to his country ; and then dismissed them all, 396 Ccesar, ^ restoring even Domitius's well-filled military chest, and too proud to require a promise from him that he would abstain personally from further hostility. Hia army, such as it was, followed the general example, and declared for Csesar. The capture of Corfinium and the desertion of the garrison made an end of hesitation. Pompey and the consuls thought only of instant flight, and hurried to Brindisi, where ships were waiting for them ; and Caesar, hoping that the evident feeling of Italy would have its effect with the reasonable part of the Senate, sent Cornelius Balbus, who was on intimate terms mth many of them, to assure them of his eagerness for peace, and to tell Cicero especially that he would be well contented to live under Pompey's rule if he could have a guaranty for his personal safety.^ Cicero's trials had been great, and were not dimin- ishing. The account given hj Balbus was simply incredible to him. If Caesar was really as well dis- ■ posed as Balbus represented, then the senatorial party, f himself included, had acted like a set of madmen. It might be assumed, therefore, that Caesar was as meanly ambitious, as selfish, as revolutionary, as their March fears had represented him, and that his mild- B. c. 49. j-jggg ^^g i^^erely affectation. But what then ? Cicero wished for himself to be on the right side, but also to be on the safe side. Pompey's was the right side, the side, that is, which, for his own sake, he would prefer to see victorious. But was Pompey's the safe side ? or rather, would it be safe to go against him ? The necessity for decision was drawing closer. » ** Balbus quidem major ad me scribit, nihil malle Caesarem, quam tfincipe Pompeio sine metu vivere. Tu piilo hsec credis." - Z'o ^*iic«# riii. 9. Perplexity of Cicero. 397 If Pompey and the consuls went abroad, all loyal senators would be expected to follow tbein, and to , stay behind would be held treason. Italy was with Caesar ; but the East, with its treasures, its fleets, its millions of men, this was Pompey's, heart and soul. The sea was Pompey's. Csesar might win for the moment, but Pompey might win in the long run. The situation was most perplexing. Before the fall of Corfinium Cicero had poured himself out upon it to his friend. '' My connections, personal and politi- cal," he said, " attach me to Pompey. If I stay be- hind, I desert my noble and admirable companions, and I fall into the power of a man whom I know not how far I can trust. He shows in many ways that he wishes me well. I saw the tempest impending, and I long ago took care to secure his good- will. But sup- pose him to be my friend indeed, is it becoming in a good and valiant citizen, who has held the highest offices and done such distinguished things, to be in the power of any man ? Ought I to expose myself to the danger, and perhaps disgrace, which would lie before me, should Pompey recover his position ? This on one side ; but now look at the other. Pompey has shown neither conduct nor courage, and he has acted throughout against my advice and judgment. I pass over his old errors : how he himself armed this man against the constitution ; how he supported his laws by violence in the face of the auspices ; how he gave him Furthur Gaul, married his daughter, supported (Uo' dius, helped me back from exile indeed, but neglected me afterwards ; how he prolonged Caesar's command, and backed him up in everything ; how in his third consulship, when he had begun to defend the consti- tution, he yet moved the tribunes to carry a resolu- 398 Ccesar. tion for taking Caesar's name in his absence, and hiia» self sanctioned it by a law of his own ; how he re- sisted Marcus Marcellus, who would have ended Cae- sar's government on the 1st of March. Let us forget all this : but what was ever more disgraceful than the fli Bar's own soldiers became unsteady. He remarks that in civil wars generally men show less composure than in ordinary campaigns. But resource in diffi- culties is the distinction of great generals. He had observed in Britain that the coast fishermen used boats made out of frames of wicker covered with skins. The river banks were fringed with willows. There were hides in abundance on the carcases of the animals in the camp. Swiftly in these vessels the swollen waters of the Segre were crossed ; the con- voys were rescued. The broken bridges were re- paired. The communications of the Pompeians were threatened in turn, and they tried to fall back over the Ebro ; but they left their position only to be in- tercepted, and after a few feeble struggles laid down their arms. Among the prisoners were found several of the young nobles who had been released at Cor- finium. It appeared that they regarded Cgesar as an outlaw with whom obligations were not binding. The Pompeian generals had ordered any of Caesar's soldiers who fell into their hands to be murdered. He was not provoked into retaliation. He again dis- missed the whole of the captive force, officers and men, contenting himself with this time exacting a promise from them that they would not serve against him or seven days. He could not keep up the mask. His harshness to IVretellus destroyed his credit for clemency, and his taking money from the treas- ury destroyed his reputation for riches. "As to his followers, how can men govern provinces who cannot man- age their own affairs for two months together ? Such a monarchy could noi last half a year. The wisest men have miscalculated If tliat is my case, I must bear the reproach but I am sure it will be as I 3ay. Cajsar will fall, either by his enemies or by himself, who is his worst enemy I hope I may live to see it, though you and I should be blinking more of the other life than of this transitory one; but so it come, tto matte- whether I see it or fore:^ee it." — To Atticvs, x. 8. 412 Ccemr. again. They gave their word and broke it. The generals and military tribunes made their way to Greece to Pompey. Of the rest some enlisted in Caesar's legions; others scattered to combine again ^\hen opportunity allowed. ' Varro, who commanded a legion in the south, be- haved more honorably. He sent in his submission, entered into the same engagement, and kept it. He was an old friend of Caesar's, and better understood him. Caesar, after the victory at Lerida, went down to Cordova, and summoned the leading Spaniards and Romans to meet him there. All came and promised obedience. Varro gave in his accounts, with his ships, and stores, and money. Caesar then embarked at Cadiz, and went round to Tarragona, where his own legions were waiting for him. From Tarragona he marched back by the Pyrenees, and came in time to receive in person the surrender of Marseilles. The siege had been a diflBicult one, with severe en- gagements both by land and sea. Domitius and his galleys had attacked the ungainly but useful vessels which Caesar had extemporized. He had been driven back with the loss of half his fleet. Pompey had sent a second squadron to help him, and this had fared no better. It had fled after a single battle and never reappeared. The land works had been assailed with ingenuity and courage. The agger had been burnt and the siege towers destroyed. But they had been repaired instantly by the industry of the legions, and Marseilles was at the last extremity when Caesar arrived. He had wished to spare the townspeople, iind had sent orders that the place was not to be stormed. On his appearance the keys of the gates State of Rome. 418 were brought to him without conditions. Again he pardoned every one ; more, he said, for the reputa- tion of the colony than for the merits of its inhab- itants. Domitius had fled in a gale of wind, and once more escaped. A third time he was not to be so fortunate. Two legions were left in charge of Marseilles ; others returned to their quarters in Gaul. Well as the tribes had behaved, it was unsafe to presume too much on their fidelity, and Caesar was not a parti- san chief, but the guardian of the Roman Empire. With the rest of his army he returned to Rome at the beginning of the winter. All had been quiet since the news of the capitulation at Lerida. The aristocracy had gone to Pompey. The disafiEection among the people of which Cicero spoke had existed only in his wishes, or had not extended beyond the classes who had expected from Caesar a general parti- tion of property, and had been disappointed. His own successes had been brilliant. Spain, Gaul, and Italy, Sicily and Sardinia, were entirely his own. Elsewhere and away from his own eye things had gone less well for him. An attempt to make a nayal force in the Adriatic had failed ; and young Curio, who had done Csesar such good service as tribune, had met with a still graver disaster. After recover- ing Sicily, Curio had been directed to cross to Africa and expel Pompey 's garrisons from the province. His troops were inferior, consisting chiefly of the gar- rison which had surrendered at Corfinium. B. 0. 48. Through military inexperience he had fallen into a trap laid for him by Juba, King of Mauritania, and had been killed. Ca3sar regretted Curio personally. The African 4-14 Ccesar. misfortune was not considerable in itself, but it en- couraged hopes and involved consequences which he probably foresaw. There was no present leisure, however, to attend to Juba. On arriving at the city lie was named Dictator. As Dictator he held the consular elections, and, with Servilius Isauricus for a colleague, he was chosen consul for the year which had been promised to him, though under circum- stances so strangely changed. With curious punctil- iousness he observed that the legal interval had ex- pired since he was last in office, and that therefore there was no formal objection to his appointment. Civil affairs were in the wildest confusion. The Senate had fled ; the administration had been left to Antony, whose knowledge of business was not of a high order ; and over the whole of Italy hung the terror of Pompey's fleet and of an Asiatic inva- sion. Public credit was shaken. Debts had not been paid since the civil war began. Money-lenders had charged usurious interest for default, and debtors were crying for novce tahulce^ and hoped to clear them- selves by bankruptcy. Caesar had but small leisure for such matters. Pompey had been allowed too long a respite, and unless he sought Pompey in Greece Pompey would be seeking him at home, and the horrid scenes of Sylla's wars would be enacted over again. He did what he could, risking the loss of the favor of the mob by disappointing dishonest expectations. Estimates were drawn of all debts as they stood twelve months before. The principal was declared to be still due. The interest for the inter- val was cancelled. Many persons complained of in- justice which they had met with in the courts of law during the time that Pompey was in power. Caasar OcBsar at Brindisi. 415 refused to revise the sentences himself, lest he should seem to be encroaching on functions not belonging to him ; but he directed that such causes should be heard again. Eleven days were all he could afford to Rome. So swift was Csesar that his greatest exploits were meas- ure^] by days. He had to settle accounts with Pom- pey w^iile it was still winter, and while Pompey'a preparations for the invasion of Italy were still in- complete ; and he and his veterans, scarcely allowing themselves a breathing-time, w^ent down to Brindisi. It was now the beginning of January by the unre- formed calendar (by the seasons the middle of Oc- tober) — a year within a few days since Caesar had crossed the Rubicon. He had nominally twelve le- gions under him. But long marches had thinned the ranks of his old and best-tried troops. The change from the dry climate of Gaul and Spain to the South of Italy in a wet autumn had affected the health of the rest, and there were many invalids. The force available for field service was small for the work which was before it : in all not more than 80,000 men. Pompey's army lay immediately opposite Brin- disi, at Durazzo. It was described afterwards as in- harmonious and ill-disciplined, but so far as report went at the time Caesar had never encountered so for- midable an enemy. There were nine legions of Ro- man citizens with their complements full. Two more were coming up with Scipio from Syria. Besides these there were auxiliaries from the allied princes in the East ; corps from Greece and Asia Minor, sling- ers and archers from Crete and the islands. Of money, of stores of all kinds, there was abundance, for th3 Eastern revenue had been all paid for the ]ast il6 Ccesar. year to Pompey, and he had levied impositions at hia pleasure. Such was the Senate's land army, and before Caesar could cross swords with it a worse danger lay in his path. It was not for nothing that Cicero said that Pompey had been careful of his fleet. A hundred and thirty ships, the best which were to be had, were dis- posed in squadrons along the east shore of the Adri- atic ; the headquarters were at Corfu ; and the one purpose was to watch the passage and prevent Csesar Irom crossing over. Transports run down by vessels of war were in- evitably sunk. Twelve fighting triremes, the remains of his attempted Adriatic fleet, were all that Caesar conld collect for a convoy. The weather was wild. Even of transports he had but enough to carry lialf his army in a single trip. With such a prospect and with the knowledge that if he reached Greece at all he would have to land in the immediate neighbor- hood of Pompey 's enormous host, surprise has been expressed that Caesar did not prefer to go round through lUyria, keeping his legions together. But Caesar had won many victories by appearing where he was least expected. He liked well to descend like a bolt out of the blue sky ; and, for the very reason that no ordinary person would under such cir- eustances have thought of attempting the passage, he determined to try it. Long marches exhausted the troops. In bad weather the enemy's fleet preferred the harbors to the open sea; and perhaps he had a further and special ground of confidence in know- ing that the ofl&cer in charge at Corfu was his old acquaintance, Bibulus — Bibulus, the fool of the sjristocracy, the butt of Cicero, who had failed in Coesar goes to Greece, 417 everything which he had undertaken, and had been thanked by Cato for his ill successes. C^sar knew the men with whom he had to deal. He knew Pom- pey's incapacity ; he knew Bibulus's incapacity. He knr^w that public feeling among the people was aa much on his side in Greece as in Italy. January, Above all, he knew his own troops, and felt ^' ^' ^^' that he could rely on them, howevei heavy the odds might be. He was resolved to save Italy at all haz- ards from becoming the theatre of war, and therefore the best road for him was that which would lead most swiftly to his end. On the 4th January, then, by unreformed time, Csesar sailed with 15,000 men and 600 horse from Brindisi. The passage was rough but swift, and he landed without adventure at Acroceraunia, now Cape Linguetta, on the eastern shore of the Straits of Otranto. Bibulus saw him pass from the heights of Corfu, and put to sea, too late to intercept him — in time, however, unfortunately, to fall in with the re- turning transports. Caesar had started them immedi- ately after disembarking, and had thej^ made use of the darkness they might have gone over unperceived ; thej^ lingered and were overtaken ; Bibulus captured thirty of them, and, in rage at his own blunder, killed every one that he found on board. Ignorant of this misfortune, and expecting that Antony would follow him in a day or two with the remainder of the army, Caesar advanced at once to- wards Durazzo, occupied Apollonia, and intrenched Uimself on the left bank of the river Apsus. The country, as he anticipated, was well-disposed and fur- nished him amply with supplies. He still hoped to persuade Pompey to couie to terms with him. He 27 418 CcBsar. trusted, perhaps not unreasonably, that the generos- ity with which he had treated Marseilles and the Spanish legions might have produced an effect ; and he appealed once more to Pompey's wiser judgment VibuUius Rufus, who had been taken at Corfinium, and a second time on the Lerida, had since remained with Csesar. Rufus, being personally known as an ardent member of the Pompeian party, was sent for- ward to Durazzo with a message of peace. '' Enough had been done," Caesar said, '' and For- tune ought not to be tempted further. Pompey had lost Italy, the two Spains, Sicily, and Sardinia, and a hundred and thirty cohorts of his soldiers had been captured. . ^^.sar had lost Curio and the army of Africa. Tl j were thus on an equality, and might spare their country the consequences of further ri- valry. If either he or Pompey gained a decisive ad- vantage, the victor would be compelled to insist on harder terms. If they could not agree, Caesar was willing to leave the question between them to the Senate and people of Rome, and for themselves, he proposed that they should each take an oath to dis- band their troops in three days." Pompey, not expecting Caesar, was absent in Ma- cedonia when he heard of his arrival, and was hurry- ing back to Durazzu. Caesar's landing had produced a panic in his camp. Men and oflBcers were looking anxiously in each other's faces. So great was the alarm, so general the distrust, that Labienus had Bworn in the presence of the army that he would Btand faithfully by Pompey. Generals, tribunes, and venturions had sworn after him. They had then moved up to the Apsus and encamped on the oppo- Bite side of the river, waiting for Pompey to come up, Death of Bihilus, 419 There was now u pause on botli sides. Antony was unable to leave Brindisi, Bibulus being on the watch day and night. A single vessel attempted the passage. It was taken, and every one on board was massacred. The weather was still wild, and both sides suffered. If Caesar's transports could not put to sea, Bibulus's crews could not land either for fuel or water anywhere south of Apollonia. Bibulus held on obstinately till he died of exposure to wet and cold, so ending his useless life ; but his death did not affect the situation favorably for Caesar; his com- mand fell into abler hands. At length Ponipey arrived. VibuUius Rufus deliv- ered his message. Pompey would not hf^ February him to the end. ''What care I," he ^ud, ^-^-^s-' ^* for life or country if I am to hold both by the fa- vor of Caesar ? All men will think thus of me if I make peace now I left Italy. Men will say that Caesar has brought me back." In the legions the opinion was different. The two armies were divided only by a narrow river. Friends met and talked. They asked each other for what purpose so desperate a war had been undertaken. The regular troops all idolized C^sar. Deputations from both sides were chosen to converse and consult, with Caesar's warmest approval. Some arrangement might have followed. But Labienus interposed. He appeared at the meeting as if to join in the confer- ence ; he was talking in apparent friendliness to Cicero's acquaintance, Publius Vatinius, who was bcrving with Caesar. Suddenly a shower of daits were hurled at Vatinius. His men flung themselves in front of liin; and covered his body; but most of them were wounded, and the assembly broke up in 420 Ccesar. confusion, Labienus shouting, " Leave your talk of composition ; there can be no peace till you bring us Ctesar's head." Cool thinkers were beginning to believe that Caesar was in a scrape from which his good fortune would this time fail to save him. Italy was on the whole steady, but the slippery politicians in the capital were on the watch. They had been disappointed on find- ing that Caesar would give no sanction to confisca- tion of property, and a spark of fire burst out which showed that the elements of mischief were active as ever. Cicero's correspondent, Marcus Cselius, had thrown himself eagerly on Csesar's side at the begin- ]iing of the war. He had been left as praetor at Rome when Caesar went to Greece. He in his wis- dom conceived that the wind was changing, and that it was time for him to earn his pardon from Pompey. He told the mob that Caesar would do nothing for them, that Caesar cared only for his capitalists. He April, wrote privately to Cicero that he was bring- B. c. 48. -j^g them over to Pompey,^ and he was do- ing it in the way in which pretended revolutionists so often play into the hands of reactionaries. He proposed a law in the assembly in the spirit of Jack Cade, that no debts should be paid in Rome for six years, and that every tenant should occupy his house for two years free of rent. The administrators of vhe Government treated him as a madman, and de- posed him from office. He left the city pretending that he was going to Caesar. The once notorious Milo, who had been in exile since his trial for the - "Nan iiic nunc prseter foeneratores paucos nee homo nee ordo qais- <\^xr. Chi nisi Pompeianus. Eqnidem jam efPeei ut maxime plebs et qui antea noster fuit populus vester esset." — Caalius to Cicero, Ad Fam, viii 17. Antony Sails for Grreece. 421 murder of Clodiiis, privately joined him; and to- gether they raised a band of gladiators in Campania, professing to have a commission from Pompey. Milo was killed. Caelius fled to Thurii, where he tried to seduce Caesar's garrison, and was put to death for his treachery. The familiar actors in the drama were beginning to drop. Bibulus was gone, and now Cas- lius and Milo. Fools and knaves are usually the first to fall in civil distractions, as they and their works are the active causes of them. Meantime months passed away. The winter wore through in forced inaction, and Caesar watched in vain for the sails of his coming transports. The Pompeians had for some weeks blockaded Brindisi. Antony drove them off with armed boats ; but still he did not start, and Csesar thought that opportuni- ties had been missed.^ He wrote to Antony sharply. The legions, true as steel, were ready for any risks sooner than leave their commander in danger. A south wind came at last, and they sailed. They were seen in mid-channel, and closely pursued. Night fell, and in the darkness they were swept past Durazzo, to which Pompey had again withdrawn, with the Pompeian squadron in full chase behind them. They ran into the harbor of Nymphaea, three miles north of Lissa, and were fortunate in entering it safely. Sixteen of the pursuers ran upon the rc3cks, and the crews owed their lives to Caesar's troops, who saved them. So Caesar mentions oriefly, in silent contrast to the unvarying ferocity of the Pompeian leaders. Two only of the transports which 1 Caesar says nothing of his putting to sea in a boat, meaning to go over in person, and being driven back by the weathe:*. The story if probably no more than one of the picturesque additions tc n^ality made by fien who find truth too tame for them. 422 Omar. hnd left llriiidisi were missing in tlie morning' They liad gone by niistake into Lissa, and were sur- rounded by the boats of the enemy, who promised that no one should be injured if they surrendered, "Here," says Caesar, in a characteristic sentence, '' may be observed the vahie of firmness of mind." One of the vessels had two hundred and twenty young soldiers on board, the other two hundred veterans. The recruits were sea-sick and frightened. They trusted the enemy's fair words, and were im- mediately murdered. The others forced their pilot to run the sliip ashore. They cut their way through a band of Pompey's cavalry, and joined their com- rades without the loss of a man. Antony's position was most dangerous, for Pompey's whole army lay between him and Caesar ; but Caesar marched rapidly round Darazzo, and had joined his friend before Pompey knew that he had moved. Though still far outnumbered, Caesar was now in a condition to meet Pompey in the field, and desired nothing so much as a decisive action. Pompey would not give him the opportunity, and kept within his lines. To show the world, therefore, how matters stood between them, Caesar drew a line of strongly fortified posts round Pompey's camp and shut him in. Force him to a surrender he could not, for the ijea was open, and Pompey's fleet had entire com- mand of it. But the moral effect on Italy of the news that Pompey was besieged might, it was hoped, foi'ce him out from his intrenchments. If Pompey j^jay could not venture to engage Caesar on his ^■^ ^ own chosen ground, and surrounded by his Eastern friends, his cause at home would be aban- doned as lost. Nor was the active injury which Siege of Durazzo, 428 Cassur Avas able to inflict inconsiderable. He turned the streams on which Pompey's camp depended for NYater. The horses and cattle died. Fever set in with other inconveniences. The labor of the siege was, of course, severe. The lines were many miles in length, and the difficulty of sending assistance to a point threatened by a sally was extremely great. The corn in the fields was still green, and supplies grew scanty. Meat Caesar's army had, but of wheat little or none ; they were used to hardship, however, and bore it with admirable humor. They made cakes out of roots, ground into paste and mixed with milk ; and thus, in spite of privation and severe work, they remained in good health, and deserters daily came in to them. So the siege of Durazzo wore on, diversified with occasional encounters, which Caesar details with the minuteness of a scientific general writing for his pro- fession, and with those admiring mentions of each in- dividual act of courage which so intensely endeared him to his troops. Once an accidental opportunity offered itself for a successful storm, but Caesar was not on the spot. The officer in command shrank from responsibility ; and, notwithstanding the seri- ousness of the consequences, Caesar said that the officer was right. Pompey's army was not yet complete* Metellus Scipio had not arrived with the Syrian legions. Scipio had come leisurely through Asia Minor, plun- dering cities and temples and flaying the people with requisitions. He had now reached Macedonia, and Domitius Calvin us had been sent with a separate command to watch him. Caesar's own force, already too small for the business on hand, was thus further 424 CoBsar. reduced, and at tliis moment there fell out one of jyj^g those accidents which overtake at times the B.C. 48. ablest commanders, and gave occasion for Caesar's observation, that Pompey knew not how to conquer. There were two young Gauls with Caesar whom he Lad promoted to important positions. They were re- ported to have committed various peculations. Caesar spoke to them privately. They took offence and de- serted. There w^as a weak spot in Caesar's lines at a point the furthest removed from the body of the army. The Gauls gave Pompey notice of it, and on this point Pompey flung himself with his whole strength. The attack was a surprise. The engage- ment which followed was desperate and unequal, for tlie reliefs were distant and came up one by one. For once Caesar's soldiers were seized with panic, lost their order, and forgot their discipline. On the news of danger he flew himself to the scene, threw himself into the thickest of the fight, and snatched the st-and- ards from the flying bearers. But on this single occa- sion he failed in restoring confidence. The defeat was complete ; and, had Pompey understood his busi- ness, Caesar's whole army might have been over- thrown. Nearly a thousand men were killed, with many field oflicers and many centurions. Thirty-two standards were lost, and some hundreds of legionaries wore taken. Labienus begged the prisoners of Pom- pey. He called them mockingly old comrades. He asked them how veterans came to fly. They were led into the midst of the camp and were all killed. Caesar's legions had believed themselves invincible. The effect of this misfortune was to mortify and in- furiate them. They were eager to fling themselves I Retreat of Coesar. 425 Mgiiin upon the enemy and Avin back their laurels; but Ciesar saw that they were excited and unsteady, and that they required time to collect themselves. Jle spoke to them with his usual calm cheerfulness, lie praised their courage. He reminded them of their many victories, and bade them not be cast down at a misadventure which they would soon repair ; but he foresaw that the disaster would affect the temper of Greece and make his commissariat more difficult than it was already. He perceived that he must adopt some new plan of campaign, and with instant decision he fell back upon Apollonia. The gleam of victory Avas the cause of Pompey's ruin. It was unlooked for, and the importance of it exaggerated. C^sar was supposed to be flying with the wreck of an army completely disorganized and disheartened. So sure were the Pompeians that it could never rally again that they regarded the war as over; they made no efforts to follow up a success which, if improved, might have been really decisive ; and they gave Cassar the one thing which he needed, time to recover from its effects. After he had placed his sick and wounded in security at Apollonia, his first object was to rejoin Calvinus, who had been sent to watch Scipio, and might now be cut off. Fortune was here favorable. Calvinus, by mere accident, learnt his danger, divined where Caesar would be, and <'si." — Be, Bello Alexandrino^ 70. Defeat of Pharnaeeb 455 Home required Csesar's presence. A campaign in Asia would occupy more time than he could afford, and Pharnaces calculated that he must be gone in a few days or weeks. The victory over Calvinus had strengthened his ambition of emulating his father. He delayed his answer, shifted from place to place, and tried to protract the correspondence till Caesar's impatience to be gone should bring him to agree tc ^ compromise. Caesar cut short negotiations. Pharnaces was at Zela, a town in the midst of mountains behind Trebi- zond, and the scene of a great victory which had been won by Mithridates over the Romans. Csesar defied auguries. He seized a position at night on the brow of a hill directly opposite to the Armenian camp, and divided from it by a narrow valley. As soon as day broke the legions were busy intrenching with their spades and pickaxes. Pharnaces, with the rashness which if it fails is madness, and if it succeeds is the intuition of genius, decided to fall on them at a mo- ment when no sane person could rationally expect an attack ; and Caesar could not restrain his astonish- ment when he saw the enemy pouring down the steep side of the ravine, and breasting the ascent on which he stood. It was like the battle of Maubeuge over again, with the difference that he had here to deal with Asiatics, and not with the Nervii. There was some confusion while the legions were exchanging their digging tools for their arms. When the ex change had been made, there was no longer a battle, but a rout. The Armenians were hurled back down the hill, and slaughtered in masses at the bottom of it. The camp was taken. Pharnaces escaped for the moment, and made his way into his own country; 456 Ccesar. but lie was killed immediately after, and Asia Minor was again at peace. Caesar, calm as usual, but well satisfied to have ended a second awkward business so easily, passed quickly down to the Hellespont, and had landed in Italy before it was known that he had left Pontus. CHAPTER XXIV- Cicero considered that the Civil War ought io have ended with Pharsalia ; and in this opinion most reasonable men among the conservatives were agreed. They had fought one battle ; and it had gone against them. To continue the struggle might tear the Empire to pieces, but could not retrieve a lost cause; and prudence and patriotism alike recommended submission to the ver- dict of fortune. It is probable that this would have been the result, could Csesar have returned to Italy immediately after his victory. Cicero himself refused to participate in further resistance. Cato offered him a command at Corcyra, but he declined it with a shudder, and went back to Brindisi ; and all but those whose consciences forbade them to hope for pardon, or who were too proud to ask for it, at first followed his example. Scipio, Cato, Labienus, Afranius, Pe- treius, were resolute to fight on to the last; but cv^en they had no clear outlook, and they wandered about the Mediterranean, uncertain what to do, or whither to turn. Time went on, however, and Caesar did noi appear. Rumor said at one time that he was de- stroyed at Alexandria. The defeat of Calvinus by Pharnaces was an ascertained fact. Spain was in confusion. The legions in Italy were disorganized, and society, or the wealthy part of society, threatened by the enemies of property, began to call for some one to save it. All was not lost. Pompey's best 458 Cce,sar. generals were still living. His sons, Sextus and C'naeus, were brave and able. The fleet was devoted to them and to their father's cause, and Caesar's officers had failed, in his absence, to raise a naval force which could show upon the sea. Africa was a convenient rallying point. Since Curio's defeat. King J uba had found no one to dispute his supremacy, and between Juba and the aristocracy who were bent on persisting in the war an alliance was easily formed. While Caesar was perilling his own interest to remain in Asia to crush Pharnaces, Metellus Scipio was offer- ing a barbarian chief the whole of Roman Africa as the price of his assistance, in a last effort to reverse the fortune of Pharsalia. Under these scandalous conditions, Scipio, Labienus, Cato, iVfranius, Petreius, Faustus Sylla the son of the Dictator, Lucius Caesar, and the rest of the irreconcilables made Africa their new centre of operations. Here they gathered to themselves the inheritors of the Syllan traditions, and made raids on the Italian coasts and into Sicily and Sardinia. Seizing Caesar's officers when they could find them, they put them invariably to death without remorse. Cicero protested honorably against the em- ployment of treacherous savages, even for so sacred a cause as the defence of the constitution ; ^ but Cicero was denounced as a traitor seeking favor with the conqueror, and the desperate work went on. Caesar's long detention in the East gave the confederates time. The young Pompeys were strong at sea. From Italy there was an easy passage for adventurous disaffec- tion. The shadow of a Pompeian Senate sat once more, passing resolutions, at Utica ; while Cato was busy organizing an army, and had collected as many 1 To Atticus, xi. 7. Order in Rome restored. 469 as thirteen legions out of the miscellaneous elements which drifted in to him. Caesar had sent orders to Cassius Longinus to pass into Africa from Spain, and break up these combinations ; but Longinus had been at war with his own provincials. He had been driven out of the Peninsula, and had lost his own life in leaving it. Caesar, like Cicero, had believed that the war had ended at Pharsalia. He found that the heads of the Hydra had sprouted again, and were vomiting the old fire and fury. Little interest could it give Caesar to match his waning years against the blinded hatred of his countrymen. Ended the strife must be, however, before order could be restored in Italy, and wretched men take up again the quiet round of industry. Heavy work had to be done in Rome. Caesar was consul now — annual consul, with no ten years' interval any longer possible. Consul, Dictator, whatever name the people gave him, he alone held the reins ; he alone was able to hold them. Credit had to be restored ; debtors had to be brought to recognize their liabilities. Property had fallen in value since the Civil Wars, and securities had to be freshly estimated. The Senate required reformation ; men of fidelity and ability were wanted for the pub- lic offices. Pompey and Pompey's friends would have drowned Italy in blood. Caesar disappointed expectation by refusing to punish any one of his political opponents. He killed no one. He deprived no one of his property. He even protected the money- lenders, and made the Jews his constant friends. Debts he insisted must be paid, bonds fulfilled, the rights of property respected, no matter what wild hopes imagination might have indulged in. Some- thing only he remitted of the severity of interest, and 460 Ccesar. the poor in the city were allowed their lodgings rent free for a year. He restored quiet, and gave as much satisfaction as circumstances permitted. His real difficulty was with the legions, who had come back from Greece. They nad deserved admirably well, but they were unfortunately over-conscious of their merits. Ill- intentioned officers had taught them to look for ex- travagant rewards. Their expectations had not been fulfilled ; and when they supposed that their labors were over they received orders to prepare for a cam- paign in Africa. Sallust the historian was in com- mand at their quarters in Campania. They mu- tinied, and almost killed him. He fled to Rome. The soldiers of the favored 10th legion pursued him to the gates, and demanded speech with Caesar. He bade them come to him, and with his usual fearless- ness told them to bring their swords. The army was Caesar's life. In the army lay the future of Rome, if Rome was to have a future. There, if anywhere, the national spirit survived. It was a trying moment ; but there was a calmness in Caesar, a rising from a profound indifference to what man or fortune could give or take from him, which no extremity could shake. The legionaries entered the city, and Caesar di- rected them to state their complaints. They spoke of their services and their sufferings. They said that they had been promised rewards, but their re- wards so far had been words, and they asked for their discharge. They did not really wish for it. They did not expect it. But they supposed thafe Caesar could not dispense with them, and that they might dictate their own terms. Mutiny in the Army. 461 During the wars in Gaul, Csesar had been most munificent to his soldiers. He had doubled their or- dinary pay. He had shared the spoils of his con- quests with them. Time and leisure had alone been wanting to him to recompense their splendid fidelity in the campaigns in Spain and Greece. He had treated them as his children ; no commander had ever been more careful of his soldiers' lives ; when addressing the army he had called them always " comilitones," '' comrades," '' brothers-in-arms." The familiar word was now no longer heard from him. "You say well, Quirites,"^ he answered; " you have labored hard, and you have suffered much ; you desire your discharge — ^*you have it. I discharge you who are present. I discharge all who have served their time. You shall have yoar recom- pense. It shall never be said of me that I made use of you when I was in danger, and was ungrateful to you when the peril was past." '' Quirites " he had called them ; no longer Roman legionaries proud of their achievements, and glory- ing in their great commander, but "Quirites" — plain citizens. The sight of Caesar, the familiar form and voice, the words, every sentence of which they knew that he meant, cut them to the heart. They were humbled ; they begged to be forgiven. They said they would go with him to Africa, or to the world's end. He did not at once accept their penitence. He told them that lands had been al- lotted to every soldier out of the ager puhlicuii^ or out of nis own personal estates. Suetonius says that the sections had been carefully taken so as not to disturb existing occupants ; and thus it appeared 1 Citizens. 462 CcBsar. that he had been thinking of them and providing for them when they supposed themselves forgotten. Money, too, he had ready for each, part in hand, part in bonds bearing interest to be redeemed when the war should be over. Again, passionately, they im- plored to be allowed to continue with him. He re- lented, but i\ >t entirely. " Let all go who wish to go," he said ; " I will huve none serve with me who serve unwillingly." * '' All, all ! " they cried ; '' not one of us will leave you" — and not one went. The mutiny was the greatest peril, perhaps, to which Caesar had ever been exposed. No more was said ; but Caesar took silent notice of 'the officers who had encouraged the discontented spirit. In common things, Dion Cassius says, he was the kindest and most considerate of commanders. He passed lightly over small offences ; but military rebellion in those who were really re- sponsible he never forgave. The African business could now be attended to. It was again midwinter. Winter cam- paigns were trying, but Caesar had hitherto found them answer to him, the enemy had suffered more than himself ; while, as long as an opposition Senate was sitting across the Mediterranean, intrigue and conspiracy made security impossible at home. Many a false spirit now fawning at home on Caesar was longing for his destruction. The army with which he would have to deal was less respectable than that which Pompey had commanded at Du- razzo, but it was numerically as strong or stronger. Cato, assisted by Labienus, had formed into legions sixty thousand Italians. They had a hundred and twenty elephants, and African cavalry in uncounted Campaign in Africa. 463 multitudes. Csesar perhaps despised an enemy too much whom he had so often beaten. He sailed from Lilybaeum on the 19th of December, with a mere handful of men, leaving the rest of his troops to fol- low as they could. No rendezvous had been posi- tively fixed, for between the weather and the enemy it was uncertain where the troops would be able to land, and the generals of the different divisions were left to their discretion. Caesar on arriving 'seized and fortified a defensible spot at Ruspinum.^ The other legions dropped in slowly, and before a third of them had arrived the enemy were swarming about the camp, while the Pompeys were alert on the water to seize stray transports or provision ships. There was skirmishing every day in front of Cassar's lines. The Numidian horse surrounded his thin cohorts like swarms of hornets. Labienus himself rode up on one occasion to a battalion which was standing stil] under a shower of arrows, and asked in mockery wL^ they were. A soldier of the 10th legion lifted hio cap, that his face might be recognized, hurled lii^ javelin for answer, and brought Labienus's horse to the ground. But courage was of no avail in the faco of overwhelming numbers. Scipio's army collected faster than Caesar's, and Caesar's young soldiers showed some uneasiness in a position so unexpected- Caesar, however, was confident and in high spiritcr. " Roman residents in the African province came grau ually in to him, and some African tribes, out of re- spect, it was said, for the memory of Marius. A fnw towns declared against the Senate in indignaticn at 1 Where the African coast turns south from Cape Bon. * "Animum enini altuin et erectum prie se gerebat. — De Bello Afrv- canK 464 CcBsar. Scipio's promise that the province was to be aban- doned to Juba. Scipio replied with burning the Ro- man country houses and wasting the lands, and still killing steadily every friend of Caesar that he could lay hands on. Caesar's steady clemency had made no difference. The senatorial faction went on as they had begun, till at length their ferocity was repaid upon them. The reports from the interior became unbearable, Caesar sent an impatient message to Sicily that, storm or calm, the remaining legions must come to him, or not a house would be left standing in the province. The officers Avere no longer what they had been. The men came, but bringing only their arms and tools, without change of clothes and without tents, though it was the rainy season. Good-will and good hearts, however, made up for other shortcomings Deserters dropped in thick from the Senate's army King Juba, it appeared, had joined them, and Roman pride had been outraged, when Juba had been seen taking precedence in the council of war, and Metellus Scipio exchanging his imperial purple in the royal presence for a plain dress of white. The time of clemency was past. Publius Ligarius was taken in a skirmish. He had been one of the captives at Lerida who had given his word to serve no further in the war. He was tried for breaking his engagement, and was put to death. Still Scipio'a army kept the field in full strength, the loss by deser- tions being made up by fresh recruits sent from Utica by Cato. Caesar's men flinched from facing the ele- Aprii 6, phants, and time was lost while other ele- B. 0. 46. phants were fetched from Italy, that they might handle them and grow familiar with them. Battle of Thapsus. 465 Scipio had been taught caution by the fate of Pom- pcy, and avoided a battle, and thus three months wore away before a decisive impression had been made. But the clear dark eyes of the con jueror of Pharsalia had taken the measure of the situation and comprehended the features of it. By this time he had an effective squadron of ships, which had swept off Pompey's cruisers ; and if Scipio shrank from an engagement it was possible to force him into it. A division of Scipio's troops were in the peninsula of Thapsus.^ If Thapsus was blockaded at sea and be- sieged by land, Scipio would be driven to come to its relief, and would have to fight in the open country. Caesar occupied the neck of the peninsula, and the re- sult was what he knew it must be. Scipio and Juba came down out of the hills with their united armies. Their legions were beginning to form intrenchments, and Caesar was leisurely watching their operations, when at the sight of the enemy an irresistible enthu- siasm ran through his lines. The cry rose for instant attack ; and Caesar, yielding willingly to the universal impulse, sprang on his horse and led the charge in person. There was no real fighting. The elephants which Scipio had placed in front wheeled about, and plunged back into the camp trumpeting and roaring. The vallum was carried at a rush, and afterwards there was less a battle than a massacre. Ofl&cers and men fled for their lives like frightened antelopes, or flung themselves on their for knees mercy. This time no mercy was shown. The deliberate cruelty with which the war had been carried on had done its work at last. The troops were savage, and killed every man that they overtook. Caesar tried to check the ^ Between Carthage and Utica. ;]0 4:65 (JcBsar. ijarnage, but liis efforts were unavailing. The leaders escaped for the time by the speed of their E t"* 46 «/ 1 horses. They scattered with a general pur- pose of making for Spain. LaMenus reached it, but few besides him. Afranius and Faustus Sylla with a party of cavalrj^ galloped to Utica, which they ex- pected to hold till one of the Pompeys could bring vessels to take them off. The Utican townspeople had from the first shown an inclination for C8esar. Neither they nor any other Romans in Africa liked the prospect of being passed over to the barbarians. Cowards smarting under defeat are always cruel. The fugitives from Thapsus found that Utica would not be available for their purpose, and in revenge they began to massacre the citizens. Cato was still ill tlie town. Cato was one of those better natured men whom revolution yokes so often with base com- panionship. He was shocked at the needless cruelty, and bribed the murderous gang to depart. They were taken soon afterwards by Caesar's cavalry. Afranius and Sylla were brought into the camp as prisoners. There was a discussion in the camp as to what was to be done with them. Cassar wished to be lenient, but the feeling in the legions was too strong. The system of pardons could not be con- tinued in the face of hatred so envenomed. The two commanders were executed ; Caesar contenting him- self with securing Sylla's property for his wife, Pom- peia, the great Pompey's daughter. Cato Caesar was most anxious to save ; but Cato's enmity was so un- governable that he grudged Caesar the honor of for- giving him. His animosity had been originally the naturally antipathy which a man of narrow under- standing instinctively feels for a man of genius. It Death of Cato. 467 had been converted by perpetual disappointment into a monomaniaj and Caesar had become to him the incarnation of everj^ quality and every principle which he most abhorred. Cato was upright, unself- ish, incorruptibly pure in deed and word ; but he waa a fanatic whom no experience could teach, and he ad- hered to his convictions with the more tenacity, be- cause fortune or the disposition of events so steadily declared them to be mistaken. He would have sur- rendered Caesar to the Germans as a reward for hav- ing driven them back over the Rhine. He was one of those who were most eager to impeach him for the acts of his consulship, though the acts themselves were such as, if they bad been done by another, he would himself have most warmly approved ; and he was tempted by personal dislike to attach himself to men whose object was to reimpose upon his country a new tyranny of Sylla. His character had given respectability to a cause wliich if left to its proper defenders would have appeared in its natural base- ness, and thus on him rested the responsibility for the color of justice in which it was disguised. That after all which had passed he should be compelled to accept his pardon at Caesar's hands was an indignity to which he could not submit, and before the con- queror could reach Utica he fell upon his sword and died. Ultimus Romanorum has been the epitaph which posterity has written on the tomb of Catc. Nobler Romans than he lived after him ; and a genu- ine son of the old Republic would never have con- sented to surrender an Imperial province to a bar- Darian prince. But at least he was an open enemy. He would not, like his nephew Brutus, have pre- tended to be Caesar's friend, that ho might the more conveniently drive a dagger into his side. / 468 Ccesar, The rest of the party was broken up. Scipic sailed for Spain, but was driven back by foul weather into Hippo, where he was taken and killed. His corre-- Bpondence was found and taken to Caesar, who burnt it unread, as he had burnt Pompey's. The end of Juba and Petreius had a wild splendor about it, Thej had fled together from Thapsus to Zama, Juba'a own principal city, and they were refused admission. Disdaining to be taken prisoners, as they knew they inevitably would be, they went to a country house in the neighborhood belonging to the king. There, after a last sumptuous banquet, they agreed to die like war- riors by each other's hand. Juba killed Petreius, and then ran upon his own sword. / \ So the actors in the drama were passing away. Do- mitius, Pompey, Lentulus, Ligarius, Metellus Scipio, Afranius, Cato, Petreius, had sunk into bloody graves. Labienus had escaped clear from the battle ; and knowing that if Caesar himself would pardon him Caesar's army never would, he made his way to Spain, where one last, desperate hope remained. The mu- tinous legions of Cassius Longinus had declared for the Senate. Some remnants of Pompey's troops who had been dismissed after Lerida had been collected again and joined them ; and these, knowing, as Labi- enus knew, that they had sinned beyond forgiveness, were prepared to fight to the last and die at bay. One memorable scene in the African campaign must not be forgotten. While Caesar was in difficul- ties at Ruspinum, and was impatiently waiting for his legions from Sicily, there arrived a general officer of the 10th, named Caius Avienus, who had occupied the whole of one of the transports with his personal servants, horses, and other conveniences, and had not Discipline in Ccesar^s Army. 469 brought with him a single soldier. Avienus had been already privately noted by Caesar as having been con- nected with the mutiny in Campania. His own hab- its in the field were simple in the extreme, and he hated to see his officers self-indulgent. He used the opportunity to make an example of him and of one or two others at the same time. He called his tribunes and centurions together. " I could wish," he said, '' that certain persons would have remembered for themselves parts of their past conduct which, though I overlooked them, were known to me ; I could wish they would have atoned for these faults by special attention to their duties. As they have not chosen to do this, I must make an example of them as a warning to others. ''You, Caius Avienus, instigated soldiers in the service of the State to mutiny against their command- ers. You oppressed towns which were under your charge. Forgetting your duty to the army and to me, you filled a vessel with your own establishment which was intended for the transport of troops ; and at a difficult moment we were thus left, through your means, without the men whom we needed. For these causes, and as a mark of disgrace, I dismiss you from the service, and I order you to leave Africa by the first ship which sails. " You, Aulus Fonteius [another tribune], have been a seditious and a bad officer. I dismiss you also. " You, Titus Salienus, Marcus Tiro, Caius Clusinas, vienturions, obtained your commissions by favor, not by merit. You have shown want of courage in the aeld ; your conduct otherwise has been uniformly bad ; you have encouraged a mutinous spirit in youi 470 CoBsar. companies. You are unworthy to serve under my command. You are dismissed, and will return to Italy." The five offenders were sent under guard on board sliip, each noticeably being allowed a single slave to wait upon him, and so were expelled from the coun- try. This remarkable picture of Caesar's method of en- forcing discipline is described by a person who was evidently present ; ^ and it may be taken as a correc- tion to the vague stories of his severity to these offi' cers which are told by Dion Cassius. 1 De Bella AfricaTWj c. 54. This remarkably interesting- narrative ii attached to Cassar's Comme»tariei. The author is unknown. CHAPTER XXV. The drift of disaffection into Spain was held at first to be of little moment. The battle of Thap- B. C. 46. sus, the final breaking up of the senatorial party, and the deaths of its leaders were supposed to have brought an end at last to the divisions which had so k)ng convulsed the Empire. Rome put on its best dress. The people had been on CiBsar's side from the first. Those who still nursed in their hearts the old animosity were afraid to show it, and the na- tion appeared once more united in enthusiasm for the conqueror. There were triumphal processions which lasted for four days. There were sham fights on ar- tificial lakes, bloody gladiator shows, which the Ro- man populace looked for as their special delight. The rejoicings being over, business began. Caesar was, of course, supreme. He was made Inspector of Public Morals, the censorship being deemed inade- quate to curb the inordinate extravagance. He was named Dictator for ten years, with a right of nomi- nating tlie persons whom the people were to choose ;or their consuls and praetors. The clubs and cau- cuses, the bribery of the tribes, the intimidation, the organized bands of voters foi-med out of the clients .f ihe aristocracy, were all at an end. The courts of law were purified. No more judges were to be bought with money or by fouler temptations. The Leges Juliae became a practical reality. One remark- able and dui-able reform was undertaken and carried 472 Ccemr. through amidst the jests of Cicero and the other wits of the time — the revision of the Roman calendar. The distribution of the year had been governed hith- erto hy the motions of the moon. The twelve annual moons had fixed at twelve the number of the months, and the number of days required to bring the lunar year into correspondence with the solar had been sup- plied by irregular intercalations, at the direction of the Sacred College. But the Sacred College during the last distracted century had neglected their ofiBce. The lunar year was now sixty-five days in advance of the sun. The so-called winter was really the autumn, the spring the winter. The summer solstice fell at the beginning of the legal September. On C^sar as Pontifex Maximus devolved the duty of bringing con- fusion into order, and the completeness with which the work was accomplished at the first moment of his leisure shows that he had found time in the midst of his campaigns to think of other things than war or politics. Sosigenes, an Alexandrian astronomer, was called in to superintend the reform. It is not un- likely that he had made acquaintance with Sosigenes in Egypt, and had discussed the problem with him in the hours during which he is supposed to have amused himself " in the arms of Cleopatra." Sosigenes, leav- ing the moon altogether, took the sun for the basis of the new system. The Alexandrian observers had dis- covered that the annual course of the sun was com- pleted ir 865 days and six hours. The lunar twelve was allowed to remain to fix the number of the months. The numbers of days in each month were adjusted to absorb 365 days. The superfluous hours wore allowed to accumulate, and every fourth year an additional day was to be intercalated. An arbi* In I Reform (^ the Calendar, 473 trary step was required to repair the negligence of the past. Sixty-five days had still to be made good. The new system, depending wholly on the sun, would naturally have commenced with the winter solstice. But Csesar so far deferred to usage as to choose to be- gin, not with the solstice itself, but with the first new moon which followed. It so happened in that year that the new moon was eidit days after the 11-1 1 B.C. 45. solstice ; and thus the next year started, as it continues to start, from the 1st of January. The eight days were added to the sixty-five, and the cur- rent year was lengthened by nearly three months. It pleased Cicero to mock, as if Csesar, not contented with the earth, was making himself the master of the heavens. '' Lyra," he said, " was to set according to the Edict ; " but the unwise man was not Csesar in this instance.^ 1 In connection with this subject it is worth while to mention another change in the division of time, not introduced by Caesar, but which came into general use about a century after. The week of seven days was un- known to the Greeks and to the Romans of the Commonwealth, the days of the month being counted by the phases of the moon. The seven days division was supposed by the Romans to be Egyptian. We know it to have been Jewish, and it was probably introduced to the general world on the first spread of Christianity. It was universallj'- adopted at any rate after Christianity had been planted in different parts of the Empire, but while the Government and the mass of the people were still unconverted to the new religion. The week was accepted for its convenience; but while accepted it was paganized; and the seven days were allotted to the five planets and the sun and moon in the order which still survives among th*^ Latin nations, and here in England with a further introduction of Scandi- navian mythology. The principle of the distribution was what is popularly tailed ** the music of the spheres,'* and turns on a law of Greek music, ivhich is called by Dion Cassius the apixovia 6id reaadptav. Assuming the earth to be the centre of the universe, the celestial bodies which have a proper movement of their own among the stars were arranged in the order ^f their apparent periods of revolution — Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, the Sun, Venus, Mercury, the Moon. The Jewish Jehovah was identified by the Graecc-Romans with Saturn, the oldest of the heathen personal gods. Tha Sabbath was the day supposed to be specially devoted to him. The first 474 Ccesar. n Wliile Sosigeiies was at work with the calendar, Caesar personally again revised the Senate. He ex- pelled every member who had been guilty of extor- tion or corruption : he supplied the vacancies wdth officers of merit, wath distinguished colonists, with foreigners, with meritorious citizens, even including Gauls, from all parts of the Empire. Time, unfortu- nately, had to pass before these new men could take their places, but meanwhile he treated the existing body wdth all forms of respect, and took no step on any question of public moment till the Senate had de- liberated on it. As a fitting close to the war he pro- claimed an amnesty to all who had borne arms against him. The past was to be forgotten, and all his efforts were directed to the regeneration of Roman society. Cicero paints the habits of fashionable life in colors which were possibly exaggerated; but enough re- mains of authentic fact to justify the general truth of the picture. Women had forgotten their honor, chil- dren their respect for parents. Husbands had mur- dered wives, and wives husbands. Parricide and incest formed common incidents of domestic Italian history; and, as justice had been ordered in the last years of the Republic, the most abandoned villain who came into court with a handful of gold was assured of impunity. Rich men, says Suetonius, were never de- terred from crime hy a fear of forfeiting their estates ; uay of the 'ueek was therefore given to Saturn. Passing over Jupiter and Mars, according to the laws of the ap/xorc'a, the next day was given to the Sun; again passing over two, the next to the Moon, and so on, going round again to the rest, till the still existing order came out: — Dies Saturnii, dies Solis, dies Lunre, dies Martis, dies Mercurii, dies Jovis, and dies Veneris. Dion Cassius, See IJistoria Eomana, lib. xxxvii. c. 18. Dion Cassius givei a second account of the distribution, depending on the twenty-four hours >f the day. But the twenty-four hours being a division purely artificial thift explanation is of less interest. lb Dissatisfaction of Cicero. 476 they had but to leave Italy, and their property was secured to them. It was held an extraordinary step towards improvement when C^sar abolished the mon- strous privilege, and ordered that parricides should not only be exiled, but should forfeit everything that belonged to them, and that minor felons should forfeit half their estates. Cicero had prophesied so positively that Caesar would throw off the mask of clemency when the need for it was gone, that he was disappointed to find him persevere in the same gentleness, and was impatient for revenge to begin. So bitter Cicero was that he once told Atticus he could almost wish himself to be the object of some cruel prosecution, that the tyrant might have the disgrace of it.^ He could not deny that " the tyrant " was doing what, if Rome was to continue an ordered common- wealth, it was essential must be done. Ca3sar's acts were unconstitutional ! Yes ; but constitutions are made for men, not men for constitutions, and Cicero had long seen that the constitution was at an end. It had died of its own iniquities. He had perceived in his better moments that Ca3sar, and Ccesar only, could preserve such degrees of freedom as could be retained without universal destruction. But he re- fused to be comforted. He considered it a disgrace to them all that Caesar was alive.^ Whj^ did not somebody kill him ? Kill him ? And what then ? On that side too the outlook was not promising. News had come that Labienus and young Cuiisus Pompey had united their forces in Spain. The whole Peninsula was in revolt, and the counter-revolutioi? 1 To Atticus, X. 12. 2 '* Cum vivere ipsum turpe sit uobis." — To Atticus^ xiii, 28, 476 Ccesar. was not impossible after all. He reflected with ter- ror on the sarcasms which he had flung on young Pompey. He knew him to be a fool and a savage. *' Hang me," he said, '' if I do not prefer an old and kind master to trying experiments with a new and cruel one. The laugh will be on the other side tben."i Far had Cicero fallen from his dream of being the greatest man in Rome ! Condemned to immortality by his genius, yet condemned also to survive in the portrait of himself which he has so unconsciously and so innocently drawn. The accounts from Spain were indeed most serious. It is the misfortune of men of superior military abil- ity that their subordinates are generally failures when trusted with independent commands. Accustomed to obey implicitly the instructions of their chief, they have done what they have been told to do, and their virtue has been in never thinking for themselves. They succeed, and they forget why they succeed, and in part attribute their fortune to their own skill. With Alexander's generals, with Caesar's, with Crom- well's, even with some of Napoleon's, the story has been the same. They have been self-confident, yet when thrown upon their own resources they have driven back upon a judgment which has been inade- quately trained. The mind which guided them is absent. The instrument is called on to become self- acting and necessarily acts unwisely. Caesar's lieu- tenarts while under his own eye had executed his 1 **P dream nisi sollicitus sum, ac malo veterem et cleraentem dominuin habere, quam novum et crudelem experiri. Scis, Cnseus quam sit fatuus. Scis, quomodo crudelitatem virtutem putet Scis, quam se semper a nobis derisum putet. Vereor, ne nos rustice glaaio velit ai'TtfAuxTT/piVat." — T% Caiut Camus, Ad Fam. xv. 19. Ccesars Officers in Spain, 477 orders Avith the precision of a machine. When left to their own responsibility they were invariably found wanting. Among all his officers there was not a man of real eminence. Labienns, the ablest of them, had but to desert Caesar, to commit blunder upon blunder, and to ruin the cause to which he attached himself. Antony, Lepidus, Trebonius, Calvinus, Cassius Lon- ginus, Quintus Cicero, Sabinus, Decimus Brutus, Va- tinius, were trusted with independent authority, only to show themselves unfit to use it. Cicero had guessed shrewdly that Caesar's greatest difficulties would be- gin with his victory. He had not a man who was able to govern under him away from his immediate eye. Cassius Longinus, Trebonius, and Marcus Lepidus had been sent to Spain after the battle of Pharsalia. They had quarrelled among themselves. They had driven the legions into mutiny. The authority of Rome had broken down as entirely as when Sertorius was defying the Senate ; and Spain had become the receptacle of all the active disaffection which re- mained in the Empire. Thither had drifted the wreck of Scipio's African army. Thfther had gath- ered the outlaws, pirates, and banditti of Italy and the Islands. Thither too had come flights of Numid- ians and Moors in hopes of plunder ; and Pompey's sons and Labienus had collected an army as numer- ous as that which had been defeated at Thapsus, and composed of materials far more dangerous and des- perate. There were thirteen legions of them in all, regularly formed, with eagles and standards ; two which had deserted from Trebonius ; one made out of Roman Spanish settlers, or old soldiers of Pompey'a who had been dismissed at Lerida ; four out of the 478 Cce8 ir, remnants of the campaign in Africa ; the rest a mis- cellaneous combination of the mutinous legions oi Longinus and outlawed adventurers who knew that there was no forgiveness for them, and were ready to fight while they could stand. It was the last cast li the dice for the old party of the aristocracy. Ap- pearances were thrown off. There were no more Catos, no more phantom Senates to lend to rebellion the pretended dignity of a national cause. The true barbarian was there in his natural colors. Very rehictantly Csesar found that he must him- self grapple with this last convulsion. The sanguin- ary obstinacy which no longer proposed any object to itself save defiance and revenge, was converting a war which at first wore an aspect of a legitimate con- stitutional struggle, into a conflict with brigands. Clemency had ceased to be possible, and Caesar would have gladly left to others the execution in person of the sharp surgery whicli was now necessary. He was growing old : fifty-five this summer. His health was giving way. For fourteen years he had known no rest. That he could have endured so long such a strain on mind and body was due only to his extraor- dinary abstinence, to the simplicity of his habits, and the calmness of temperament which in the most anx- ious moments refused to be agitated. But the work was telling at last on his constitution, and he departed on his last campaign with confessed unwillingness. The future was clouded with uncertainty. A few more years of life might enable him to introduce into the shattered frame of the Commonwealth some dura- ble elements. His death in the existing confusion might be as fatal as Alexander's. That some one person not liable to removal under the annual wav« Lad Campaign in Spain. 479 of electoral agitation must preside over the army and the administration, had been evident in lucid mo- ments even to Cicero. To leave the prize to be con- tended for among the military chiefs was to bequeath a legacy of civil wars and probable disruption ; to compound with the embittered remnants of the aris- tocracy who were still in the field would intensify the danger ; yet time and peace alone could give oppor- tunity for the conditions of a permanent settlement to shape themselves. The name of Caesar had be- come identified with the stability of the Empire. He no doubt foresaw that the only possible chief would be found in his own family. Being himself childless, he had adopted his sister's grandson, Octa- vius, afterwards Augustus, a fatherless boy of seven- teen ; and had trained him under his own eye. He had discerned qualities doubtless in his nephew which, if his own life was extended for a few years longer, might enable the boy to become the representative of his house and perhaps the heir of his power. In the unrecorded intercourse between the uncle and his niece's child lies the explanation of the rapidity with which the untried Octavius seized the reins when all was again chaos, and directed the Commonwealth upon the lines which it was to follow during the re- maining centuries of Roman power. Octavius accompanied Csesar into Spain. They travelled in a carriage, having as a third with them the general whom Ceesar most trusted and liked, and whom he had named in his will as one of Octavius's guardians, Decim.us Brutus — the same officer who had commanded his fleet for him at Quiberon and at Marseilles, and had now been selected as the future governor of Cisalpine Gaul. Once more it was mid- 480 Ccesar. winter when they left Rome, They travelled swiftly ; and Csesar, as usual, himself brought the news thai he was coming. But the winter season did not bring to him its usual advantages, for the whole Peninsula hai revolted and Pompey and Labienus were able to shelter their troops in the towns, while Csesar was obliged to keep the field. Attempts here and there to capture detached positions led to no results. On both sides now the war was carried on upon the prin- ciples which the Senate had adopted from the first. Prisoners from the revolted legions were instantly ex- ecuted, and Cnaeus Pompey murdered the provincials whom he suspected of an inclination for Csesar. At- tagona was at last taken. Csesar moved on Cordova ; and Pompey, fearing that the important cities might seek their own security by coming separately to terms, found it necessary to risk a battle. The scene of the conflict which ended the Civil War March 17, ^^'^^ ^^^ plain of Muuda. The day was the B.C. 45. ]^Y^j^ ^{ March, B. C. 45. Spanish tradition places Munda on the Mediterranean, near Gibraltar. The real Munda was on the Guadalquivir, so near to Cordova that the remains of the beaten army found shelter within its walls after the battle. Caesar had been so invariably victorious in his engagements in the open field that the result might have been thought a foregone conclusion. Legendary history reported in the next generation that the elements had been preg- nant with auguries. Images had sweated ; the sky had blazed with meteors ; celestial armies, the spiritis of the past and future, had battled among the con- stellations. The signs had been unfavorable to the Pompeians ; the eagles of their legions had dropped the golden thunderbolts from their talons, spread theii Battle of Mtmda. 481 wings, and h;ad flown away to Caesar. In reality, the eagles had remained in their places till the stand- ards fell from the hands of their dead defenders ; and the battle was one of the most desperate in which Caesar had ever been engaged. The num- bers were nearly equal — the material on both sides equally good. Pompey's army was composed of re« volted Roman soldiers. In arms, in discipline, in stubborn fierceness, there was no difference. The Pompeians had the advantage of the situation, the village of Munda, with the hill on which it stood, being in the centre of their lines. The Moorish and Spanish auxiliaries, of whom there were large bodies on either side, stood apart when the legions closed ; they having no further interest in the matter than in siding with the conqueror, when fortune had decided who the conqueror was to be. There were no ma- noeuvres ; no scientific evolutions. The Pompeians knew that there was no hope for them if they were defeated. Caesar's men, weary and savage at the protraction of the war, were determined to make a last end of it ; and the two armies fought hand to hand with their short swords, with set teeth and pressed lips, opened only with a sharp cry as an en- emy fell dead. So equal was the struggle, so doubt- ful at one moment the issue of it, that Cassar himseli: sprang from his horse, seized a standard, and rallied a wavering legion. It seemed as if the men meant all to stand and kill or be killed as long as daylight lasted. The ill fate of Labienus decided the victory. He had seen, as he supposed, some movement which alarmed him among Csesar's Moorish auxiliaries, and had galloped conspicuously across the field to lead a ai vision to check them. A shout rose, " He flies — 31 k 482 Ccesar. he flies ! " A panic ran along the Pompeian Unes They gave way, and Cassar's legions forced a road between their ranks. One wing broke off, and made for Cordova ; the rest plunged wildly within the ditch and walls of Miuida, the avenging sword smiting behind into the huddled mass of fugitive's. Scarcely a prisoner was taken. Thirty thou- Band fell on the field, among them three thousand Ro • man knights, the last remains of the haughty youths who had threatened Caesar with their swords in the Senate-house, and had hacked Clodius's mob in the Forum. Among them was slain Labienus — his de- sertion of his general, his insults and his cruelties to his comrades, expiated at last in his own blood. At- tius Varus was killed also, who had been with Juba when he destroyed Curio. The tragedy was being knitted up in the deaths of the last actors in it. The eagles of the thirteen legions were all taken. The two Pompeys escaped on their horses, Sextus disap- pearing in the mountains of Granada or the Sierra Morena ; Cnaeus flying for Gibraltar, where he hoped to find a friendly squadron. Munda was at once blockaded, the inclosing wall — savage evidence of the temper of the conquerors — being built of dead bodies pinned together with lances, and on the top of it a fringe of heads on swords's points with the faces turned towards the town. A sally was attempted at midnight, and failed. The desperate wretches then fought among themselves, till at length the place was surrendered, and fourteen thousand of those who still survived were taken, and spared. Their comrades, who had made their way into Cordova, were less fortunate. When the result of the battle was known, the lead- End of the Civil War. 483 ing citizen, who had headed the revolt against Caesar, gathered all that belonged to him into a heap, poured turpentine over it, and, after a last feast vrith his family, burnt himself, his house, his children, and servants. In the midst of the tumult the walls were stormed. Cordova was given up to plunder and mas- sacre, and twenty-two thousand miserable people — most of them, it may be hoped, the fugitives from Munda — were killed. The example sufficed. Every town opened its gates, and Spain was once more sub- missive. Sextus Pompey successfully concealed him- self. Cnseus reached Gibraltar, but to find that most of the ships which he looked for had been taken by CaBsar's fleet. He tried to cross to the African coast, but was driven back by bad weather, and search parties were instantly on his track. He had been wounded ; he had sprained his ankle in his flight. Strength and hope were gone. He was carried on a litter to a cave on a mountain side, where his pur- suers found him, cut off his head, and spared Cicero from further anxiety. Thus bloodily ended the Civil War, which the Senate of Rome had undertaken against Caesar, to escape the reforms which were threatened by his sec- ond consulship. They had involuntarily rendered their country the best service which they were capa- ble of conferring upon it, for the attempts which Caesar would have made to amend a system too de- cayed to benefit by the process had been rendered forever impossible by their persistence. The free constitution of the Republic had issued at last in elections whicli w^ere a aiockery of representation, in courts of law which were an insult to justice, and in tlie conversion of the provinces of the Empire into 484 Coemr, the feeding'grounds of a gluttonous aristocracy. lu the army alone the Roman character and the Romau honor survived. In the Imperator, therefore, as chief of the army, the care of the provinces, the direction of public policy, the sovereign authority in the last appeal, could alone thenceforward reside. The Sen- ate might remain as a Council of State ; the magis- trates might bear their old names, and administer their old functions. But the authority of the execu- tive government lay in the loyalty, the morality, and the patriotism of the legions to whom the power had been transferred. Fortunately for Rome, the change came before decay had eaten into the bone, and the genius of the Empire had still a refuge from plat- form oratory and senatorial wrangling in the hearts of her soldiers. Csesar did not immediately return to Italy. Af- fairs in Rome vrere no longer pressing, and, after the carelessness and blunders of his lieutenants, the ad- ministration of the Peninsula required his personal inspectioi^ From open revolts in any part of the Roman dominions he had nothing more to fear. The last card had been played, and the game of open resistance was lost bej^ond recovery. There might be dangers of another kind : dangers from ambitious generals, who might hope to take Cassar's place on his death ; or dangers from constitutional philoso- phers, like Cicero, who had thought from the first that the Civil War had been a mistake, " that Caesar was but mortal, and that there were many ways in which a man might die." A reflection so frankly expressed, by so respectable a person, must have oc- curred to many others as well as to Cicero ; Caesar could not but have foreseen in what resources disap- End of the Civil War. 485 pointed fanaticism or baffled selfishness might seek refuge. But of such possibilities he was prepared to take his chance : he did not fly from them, he did not seek them ; he took his work as he found it, and remained in Spain through the summer, imposing fines and allotting rewards, readjusting the taxation, and extending the political privileges of the Roman colonies. It was not till late in the autumn that he again turned his face towards Rome, CHAPTER XXVI. CiESAB came back to Rome to resume the sus- pended work of practical reform. His first S C. 46. care was to remove the fears which the final spasm of rebellion had again provoked. He had al- ready granted an amnesty. But the Optimates were conscious that they had desired and hoped tliat the Pompeys might be victorious in Spain. CaBsar in- vited the surviving leaders of the party to sue for pardon on not unbecoming conditions. Hitherto they had kept no faith with him, and on the first show of opportunity had relapsed into defiance. His forbear- ance had been attributed to want of power rather than of will to punish ; when they saw him again triumphant, they assumed that the representative of the Marian principles would show at last the colors of his uncle, and that Rome would again run with blood. He knew them all. He knew that they hated him, and would continue to hate him ; but he supposed that they had recognized the hopelessness and useless- ness of further conspiracy. By destroying him they would fall only under the rod of less scrupulous con- querors ; and therefore he was content that they should ask to be forgiven. To show further that the past was really to be forgotten, he drew no distinc- tion between his enemies and his friends, and he recommended impartially for office those whose rank or services to the State entitled them to look for pro- motion. Thus he pardoned and advanced Caius Cas* General Amnesty. 487 Bius, who would have killed him in Cilicia.^ But Cassius had saved Syria from being overrun by the Parthians after the death of Crassus ; and the service to the State outweighed the injury to himself. So he pardoned and advanced Marcus Brutus, his friend Servilia's son, who had fought against him at Pharsa- lia, and had been saved from death there by his spe- cial oiders. So he pardoned and protected Cicero; so Marcus Marcellus, who, as consul, had moved that he should be recalled from his government, and had flogged the citizen of Como, in scorn of the privileges which Caesar had granted to the colony. So he par- doned also Quintus Ligarius,^ who had betrayed his confidence in Africa ; so a hundred others, who now submitted, accepted his favors, and bound themselves to plot against him no more. To the widows and children of those who had fallen in the war he restored the estates and honors of their families. Finally, ais some were still sullen, and refused to sue for a for- giveness which might imply an acknowledgment of guilt, he renewed the general amnesty of the previous year ; and, as a last evidence that his victory was not the triumph of democracy, but the consolidation of a united Empire, he restored the statues of Sylla and Pompey, which had been thrown down in the revo- lution, and again dedicated them with a public cere- monial. Having thus proved that, so far as he was con- cerned, he nourished no resentment against the per* 1 Apparently when Csesar touched there on his way to Egypt, after Pharsalia. Cicero says (PMi/>/jic ii. 11) : *'Quid? C. Cassius .... quJ etiam sine his clarissimis viris, hanc rem in Cilicia ad ostium fluminia Cydni confecisset, si ille ad earn ripam quam constituerat, non ad contra- riam, navi appulisset." 2 To be distinguished from Publius Ligar'us, who had been put to death \)efore Thapsus. 488 Omar. sons of the Optimates, or against their principles, sa far as they were consistent with the future welfare ol the Roman State, Caesar set himself again to the re- organization of the administration. Unfortunately, each step that he took was a fresh crime in the eyes of men whose pleasant monopoly of power he had overthrown. But this was a necessity of the revolu- tion. They had fought for their supremacy, and had lost the day. He increased the number of the Senate to nine hundred, filling its ranks from eminent provincials ; introducing even barbarian Gauls, and, still worse, libertini, the sons of liberated slaves, who had risen to distinction by their own merit. The new members came in slowly, and it is needless to say were unwill- ingly received ; a private handbill was sent round, recommending the coldest of greetings to them.^ The inferior magistrates were now responsible to himself as Dictator. He added to their numbers also, and, to check the mischiefs of the annual elections, he ordered that they should be chosen for three years. He cut short the corn grants, which nursed the city mob in idleness ; and from among the impoverished citizens he furnished out masses of colonists to repair the decay of ancient cities. Corinth rose from its ashes under Caesar's care. Eighty thousand Italians were settled down on the site of Carthage. As in- spector of morals, Caesar inherited in an invigorated form the power of the censors. Senators and officials who had discredited themselves by dishonesty were i The Gauls were especially obnoxious, and epigrams were circulated te lbsi;lt them: — *' Gallos Caesar in triumphum ducit, idem in Curiam. Qalli braceaa deposuerunt, latum clavum sumpserunt." SuxTONina, Vita Julii Casarii, 80 Sumptuary Regulations. 489 ruthlessly degraded His own private habits and the habits of his household were models of frugality. He made an effort, in which Augustus afterwards imitated him, to check the luxury which was eating into the Roman character. He forbade the idle young patricians to be carried about by slaves in litters. The markets of the world had been ransacked to pro • vide dainties for these gentlemen. He appointed in- spectors to survey the dealers' stalls, and occasionally prohibited dishes were carried off from the dinner- table under the eyes of the disappointed guests.^ Enemies enough Cgesar made by these measures ; but it could not be said of him that he allowed indul- gences to himself which h6 interdicted to others. His domestic economy was strict and simple, the accounts being kept to a sesterce. His frugality was hospit- able. He had two tables always, one for his civilian friends, another for his oflBcers, who dined in uniform. The food was plain, but the best of its kind ; and he was not to be played with in such matters. An un- lucky baker who supplied his guests with bread of worse quality than he furnished for himself was put in chains. Against moral offences he was still more severe. He, the supposed example of licentiousness with women, executed his favorite freedman for adul- tery with a Roman lady. A senator had married a woman two days after her divorce from her first hus- band ; Csesar pronounced the marriage void. Law reforms went on. Caesar appointed a commis- sion to examine the huge mass of precedents, reduce them to principles, and form a Digest. He called in Marcus Varro's help to form libraries in the great towns. He encouraged physicians and men of science 1 Suetonius. 490 Omar, to settle in Rome, by offering them the freedom of the city. To maintahi the free population of Italy, he required the planters and farmers to employ a fixed proportion of free laborers on their estates. He put an end to the pleasant tours of senators at the expense of the provinces ; their proper place was Italy, and he allowed them to go abroad only when they were in office or in the service of the governors. He formed large engineering plans, a plan to drain the Pontine marshes and the Fucine lake, a plan to form a new channel for the Tiber, another to improve the roads, another to cat the Isthmus of Corinth. These were his employments during the few montlis ot life which were left to him after the close of the war. His health was growing visibly weaker, but B.C. 46-44. 1 . 1 . , . ms superhuman energy remamed unim- paired. He was even meditating and was making preparation for a last campaign. The authority of Rome on the Eastern frontier had not recovered from the effects of the destruction of the army of Crassus. The Parthians were insolent and aggressive. Cassar liad determined to go in person to bring them to their senses as soon as he could leave Rome. Partly, it was said that he felt his life would be safer with the troops ; partly, he desired to leave the administration free from his overpowering presence, that it might learn to go alone; partly and chiefly, he wished to spend such time as might remain to him where he could do most service to his country. But he was growing weary of the thankless burden. He was beard often to say that he had lived long enough. Men of high nature do not find the task of governing their fellow-creatures particularly delightful. The Senate meanwhile was occupied in showing the Honors heaped on Ccesar, 491 sincerity of their conversion by inventing lionors for their new master, and smothering .him with distinc* tions since they had failed to defeat him in the field, Few recruits had yet joined them, and they were still substantially the old body. They voted Caesar the name of Liberator. They struck medals for him, in which he was described as Pater Patrias, an epitliet which Cicero had once with quickened pulse heard given to himself by Pompey. '-'- Imperator " had been a title conferred hitherto by soldiers in the field on a successful general. It was now granted to Caesar in a special sense, and was made hereditary in his family, with the command-in-chief of the army for his life. The Senate gave him also the charge of the treasury. They made him consul for ten years. Statues were to be erected to him in the temples, on the Rostra, and in the Capitol, where he was to stand as an eighth among the seven Kings of Rome. In the excess of their adoration, they desired even to place his image in the Temple of Quirinus himself, with an inscription \:o him as ®eos aviKy]To<;^ the invincible God. Golden chairs, gilt chariots, triumphal robes were piled one upon another Avith laurelled fasces and laurelled wreaths. His birthday was made a perpetual holi- day, and the month Quinctilis ^ was renamed, in honor of him, July. A temple to Concord was to be erected in commemoration of his clemency. His per- son was declared sacred, and to injure him by word or vleed was to be counted sacrilege. The Fortune of Caesar was introduced into the constitutional oath, and the Senate took a solemn pledge to maintain his acts inviolate. Finally, they arrived at a conclusion that he was not a man at all ; no longer Caius Julius, but ^ Tlie fifth, dating the beginning of the year, in the old style, from March. 492 Ccesar. Divus Julius, a God or the Son of God. A temple was to be built to Caesar as another Quirinus, and Antony was to be his priest. Caesar knew the meaning of all this. He must ac- cept their flattery and become ridiculous, or he must appear to treat with contumely the Senate which offered it. The sinister purpose started occasionally into sight. One obsequious senator proposed that every woman in Rome should be at his disposition, and filthy libels against him were set floating under the surface. The object, he perfectly understood, *' was to draw him into a position more and more in- vidious, that he might the sooner perish." ^ The praise and the slander of such men were alike in- different to him. So far as he was concerned, they might call him what they pleased ; God in public, and devil in their epigrams, if it so seemed good to them. It was difficult for him to know precisely how to act, but he declined his divine honors ; and he declined the ten years' consulship. Though he was sole consul for the year, he took a colleague, and when his col- league died on the last day of office, he named an- other, that the customary forms might be observed. Let him do what he would, malice still misconstrued him. Cicero, the most prominent now of his senato- rial flatterers, was the sharpest with his satire behind the scenes. " Caesar," he said, '' had given them so active a consul, that there was no sleeping under him." 2 Caesar was more and more weary of it. He knew that the Senate hated him ; he knew that they would kill him, if they could. All these men whose lipa - Dim Cassius. * The second consul who had been pit in held office but for a few houra Conspiracies forming, 493 were running over with adulation, were longing to drive their daggers into him. He was willing to live, if they would let him live ; but, for himself, he had ceased to care about it. He disdained to take precau- tions against assassination. On his first return from Spain, he had been attended by a guard ; but he dis- missed it in spite of the remonstrances of his friends, and went daily into the Senate-house alone and un- armed. He spoke often of his danger with entire openness ; but he seemed to think that he had some security in the certainty, that if he was murdered the Civil War would break out again, as if personal ha- tred was ever checked by fear of consequences. It was something to feel that he had not lived in vain. The Gauls were settling into peaceful habits. The soil of Gaul was now as well cultivated as Italy. Barges loaded with merchandise were passing freely along the Rhone and the Sa6ne, the Loire, the Mo- selle, and the Rhine.^ The best of the chiefs were made senators of Rome, and the people were happy and contented. What he had done for Gaul, he might, if he lived, do for Spain, and Africa, and the East. But it was the concern of others more than of himself. " Better," he said, '' to die at once than live in perpetual dread of treason." But Caesar was aware that conspiracies were being formed against him; and that he spoke freely of his danger, appears from a speech lelivered in the middle of the winter by Cicero in Caesar's presence. It has been seen that Cicero harj lately spoken of Caesar's continuance in life as a dis- grace to the State.. It has been seen, also, that he had long thought of assassination as the readiest 1 Dion Cassius. 494 Ccesar. means of ending it. He asserted afterwards that h* had not been consulted when the miTi'der w^as actually accomplished; but the perpetrators were assured of his approbation, and when Caesar was killed he de- liberately claimed for himself a share of the guilt, if guilt therr could be in what he regarded as the most gloiious achievement in human history.^ It may be assumed, therefore, that Cicero's views upon the sub- ject had remained unchanged since the beginning of the Civil War, and that his sentiments were no secret among his intimate friends. Cicero is the second great figure in the history of the time. He has obtained the immortality which he so mucli desired, and we are, therefore, entitled and obliged to scrutinize his conduct with aniceness which would be ungracious and unnecessary in the case of a less distinguished man. After Pharsalia he had con- cluded that the continuance of the war would be un- justifiable. He had put himself in communication with Antony and Caesar's friend and secretary Oppius, and at their advice he went from Greece to Brindisi, to remain there till Caesar's pleasure should be known. He was very miserable. He had joined Pompey with confessed reluctance, and family quarrels had followed on Pompey 's defeat. His brother Quintus, whom he had drawn away from Caesar, regretted having taken his advice. His sons and nephews were equally querulous and dissatisfied ; and for himself, he dared not appear in the streets of Brindisi, lest Caesar's soldiers should insult or injure him. Antony, how- ever, encouraged him to hope. He assured him that 1 See the 2d Philippic, passim. In a letter to Decimus Brutus, he says. * Quare hortatione tu quidem non eges, si ne ilia quidem in re, quae a ta jpcsta est post hominum memoriam maxima, hortatorem desiderasti/' Ad Fam. xi. 5. Speculations of Cicero. 495 Ca3Sd.r was well disposed to him, and would not only- pardon liim, but would show him every possible favor,^ and with these expectations he contiived for a while to comfort himself. He had regarded the struggle as over, and Caesar's side as completely vicfcoriouu. But gradually the scene seemed to change. Ca?sar was long in returning. The Optimates rallied in Africa, and there was again a chance that they might win after all. His first thought was always for himself. If the constitution survived under Caesar, as he was inclined to think that in some shape it would, he had expected that a place would be found in it for him.^ But how if Csesar himself should not survive ? How if he should be killed in Alexandria ? How if he should be defeated by Metellus Scipio? He described himself as excruciated with anxiety.^ Through the year which followed he wavered from day to day as the prospect varied, now cursing his folly for having followed the Senate to Greece, now for having de- serted them, blaming himself at one time for his in- decision, at another for having committed himself to either side.'^ Gradually his alarms subsided. The Senate's party was finally overthrown. Caesar wrote to him affectionately, and allowed him to retain his title as Imperator. When it appeared that he had nothing personally to fear, he recovered his spirits, and he re- covered along with them a hope that the constitution might be restored, after all, by other means than war. '^ Cassar could not live forever, and there were many ways in which a man might die." 1 To Atticus, xi. 5-6. 2 M Ccelium, Ad Fam, ii. 16 « To Atticus^ xi. 7. * Se.e To Attlcus, xi. 7-9 ; To Tenntia, Ad Fam. xiv. 12. 496 Cmar. Cassar had dined with him in the country, on hia way home from Spain. He had been as kind as Cic ero could wish, but had avoided politics. When Cae- sar went on to Rome, Cicero followed him, resumed his place in the Senate, which was then in the full fervor of its affected adulation, and took an early op»» portunity of speaking; Marcus Marcellus had been in exile since Pharsalia. The Senate had interceded for Ills pardon, and Caesar had granted it, and granted it with a completeness which exceeded expectation. Cic- ero rose to thank him in his presence, in terms which most certainly did not express his real feelings, what- OYer may have been the purpose which they concealed. '^He had long been silent," he said, "not from fear, but from grief and diffidence. The time for silence was past. Thenceforward he intended to speak his thoughts freely in his ancient manner. Such kindness, such unheard of generosity, such moderation in power, such incredible and almost god- like wisdom, he felt himself unable to pass over without giving expression to his emotions."^ No flow of genius, no faculty of speech or writing, could adequately describe Caesar's actions, yet on that day ^e had yet achieved a greater glory. Often had Cicero thought, and often had said to others, that no king or general had ever performed such exploits a^ Caesar. In war, however, officers, soldiers, allies, cir- cumstances, fortune, claimed a share in the result ; and there were victories greater than could be won on the battlefield, where the honor was undivided. 1 <* Tantam enim mansuetudinem, tarn inusitatam inauditamque cle- mcntiam, tantnm in summ^ potestate rerum omnium modiim, tarn deniqii* incredibilem sapientiam ac p«»iie divinani tacitus nullo niodo prpeferire possum." — Pro Marco Afarcclto, 1. da l{ I Speech of Cicero. 497 '' To have conquered yourself," he said, addressing Caesar directly, " to have restrained your resentment, not only to have restored a distinguished opponent to his civil rights, but to have given him more than he had lost, is a deed which rises you above human- ity, and makes you most like to God. Your wars will be spoken of to the end of time in all lands and tongues, but in tales of battles we are deafened by fche shoutings and the blare of trumpets. Justice, mercy, moderation, wisdom, we admire even in fic- tion, or in persons whom we have never seen ; how much more must we admire them in you, who are present here before us, and in whose face we read a purpose to restore us to such remnants of our liberty as have survived the war ! How can we praise, how can we love you sufficiently ? By the gods, the very walls of this house are eloquent with gratitude. . . . ♦ No conqueror in a civil war was ever so mild as you have been. To-day you have surpassed your- self. You have overcome victory in giving back the spoils to the conquered. By the laws of war we were under your feet, to be destroyed if you so willed. We live by your goodness Observe, conscript fathers, how comprehensive is Caesar's sentence. We were in arms against him, how impelled I know not. He cannot^ acquit us of mistake, but he holds us in- nocent of crime, for he has given us back Marcellus, at your entreaty. Me, of his own free will, he has re- sii)red to myself and to my country. He has brought back the most illustrious survivors of the war. You see them gathered here in this full assembly. He has not regarded them as enemies. He has con- cluded that you entered into the conflict with him 32 498 Omar. rather in ignorance and unfounded fear than from anjT' motives of ambition or hostility. " For me, I was always for peace. Csesar was for peace, so was Marcellus. There were violent men among you, whose success Marcellus dreaded. Each party had a cause. I will not compare them. I will compare rather the victory of the one with ih^ pos- sible victory of the other. Ciesar's wars ended with the last battle. The sword is now sheathed. Those whom we have lost fell in the fury of the fight, not one by the resentment of the conqueror. Csesar, if he could, would bring back to life many who lie dead. For the others, we all feared what they might do if the day had been theirs. They not only threat- ened those that were in arms agaiust them, but those who sat quietly at home." Cicero then said that he had heard a fear of assas- sination expressed by Caesar. By whom, he asked, could such an attempt be made ? Not by those whom he had forgiven, for none were more attached to him. Not by his comrades, for they could not be so mad as to conspire against the general to whom they owed all that they possessed. Not by his ene- mies, for he had no enemies. Those who had been his enemies were either dead through their own ob- stinacy, or were alive through his generosity. It was possible, however, he admitted, that there might be some such danger. '' Be you, therefore," he said, again speaking to Ciesar, '' be you watchful, and let us be diligent. Who is so careless of his own and the common wel- fare as to be ignorant that on your preservation his Speech of Cicero, 499 own depends, and tlmt all our lives are bound up in yours ? I, as in duty bound, think of you by night and day ; I ponder over the accidents of humanity, the uncertainty of liealth, the fraility of our common nature, and I grieve to think that the Commonwealth which ought to be immortal should hang on the breath of a single man. If to these perils be added a nefarious conspiracy, to what god can we turn for help ? War has laid prostrate our institutions, you alone can restore them. The courts of justice need to be reconstituted, credit to be recovered, license to be repressed, the thinned ranks of the citizens to be repaired. The bonds of society are relaxed. In such a war, and with such a temper in men's hearts, the State must have lost many of its greatest ornaments, be the event what it would. These wounds need healing, and you alone can heal them. With sor- row I have heard you say that you have lived long enough. For nature it may be that you have, and perhaps for glory. But for your country you have not. Put away, I beseech you, this contempt of death. Be not wise at our expense. You repeat often, I am told, that you do not wish for longer life. I believe you mean it ; nor should I blame you, if you had only to think of yourself. But by your ac- tions you have involved the welfare of each citizen and of the whole Commonwealth in your own. Your work is unfinished : the foundations are hardly laid, and is it for you to be measuring calmly your term of days by your desires ? .... If, Caesar, the result of your immortal deeds is to be no more than this, that, after defeating your enemies, you are to leave the State in the condition in which it now stands, your splendid qualities will be more admired tl^^p 600 CoBsar. honored. It remains for you to rebuild the constitu* fcion. Live till this is done. Live till you see your countr}^ tranquil, and at peace. Then, when your last debt is paid, when you have filled the measure of your existence to overflowing, then say, if you will, that you have had enough of life. Your life is not the life which is bounded by the union of your soul and body ; your life is that which shall continue fresh in the memory of ages to come, which posterity will cherish, and eternity itself keep guard over. Much has been done which men will admire : much remains to be done, which they can praise. They will read with wonder of the empires and provinces, of the Rhine, the ocean, and the Nile, of battles without number, of amazing victories, of countless monuments and triumphs ; but unless this Commonwealth bo wisely reestablished in institutions by you bestowed upon us, your name will travel widely over the world, but will have no stable habitation ; and those who come after us will dispute about you as we have dis- puted. Some will extol you to the skies, others will find something wanting, and the most important ele- ment of all. Remember the tribunal before which you will hereafter stand. The ages that are to be will try you, with minds, it may be, less prejudiced than ours, uninfluenced either by desire to please you or by envy of your greatness. '' Our dissensions have been crushed by the arms, and extinguished by the lenity, of the conqueror. Let all of us, not the wise only, but every citizen who has ordinary sense, be guided by a single desire. Sal- vation there can be none for us, Caesar, unless you are [ reserved. Therefore, we exhort you, we beseech you to watch over your own safety. You believe i Speech of Cicero. 601 that you are threatened by a secret peril. From my own heart I say, and I speak for others as well as myself, we will stand as sentries over your safety, and we will interpose our own bodies between you and any danger which may menace you." ^ Such, in compressed form, for necessary brevity, but deserving to be studied in its own brilliant lan- guage, was the speech delivered by Cicero in the Sen- ate in Caesar's presence, within a few weeks of his murder. The authenticity of it has been questioned, but without result beyond creating a doubt whether it was edited and corrected, according to his usual habit, by Cicero himself. The external evidence of genuineness is as good as for any of his other Ora- tions, and the Senate possessed no other speaker known to us, to whom, with any probability, so splen- did an illustration of Roman eloquence could be as- signed. Now, therefore, let us turn to the Second Philippic delivered in the following summer when the deed had been accomplished, which Cicero professed to hold in so much abhorrence. Then, fiercely chal- lenging for himself a share in the glory of tyranni- cide, he exclaimed : — '' What difference is there between advice before- hand and approbation afterwards? What does it matter whether I wished it to be done, or rejoiced that it was done? Is there a man, save Antony and those who were glad to have Caesar reign c»ver us, tliat did not wish him to be killed, or that disap- proved when he was killed ? All were in fault, for 1 Pro Marco Marcello^ abridged. 502 Ocesar. I all the Bo7ii joined in killing him, so far as lay in them. Some were not consulted, some wanted cour- uge, si^me opportunity. All were willing." ^ Expressions so vehemently opposite compel us to compare them. Was it that Cicero was so carried away by the stream of his oratory, that he spoke like an actor, under artificial emotion which the occasion called for ? Was it that he was deliberately trying to persuade Caesar that from the Senate he had noth- ing to fear, and so to put him off his guard ? If, as he declared, he himself and the Boni^ who were list- ening to him, desired so unanimously to see Caesar killed, how else can his langu^ige be interpreted ? Cicero stands before the tribunal of posterity, to which he was so fond of appealing. In him, too, while '' there is much to admire," '' something may be found wanting." Meanwhile the Senate went its way, still inventing fresh titles and conferring fresh powei-s. Caesar said that these vain distinctions needed limitation, rather than increase ; but tlie flattery had a purpose in it, and would not be checked. One day a deputation waited on him with the proffer of some ''new marvel." ^ He was sitting in front of the Temple of Venus Genetrix, and when the senators approached he neglected to rise to re- 1 "Non intelligi?, si id quod me argiiis voluisse interficiCjBsarem crimen sit, etiam lastatum esse morte CiTssaris crimen esse? Quid enim interest inter suasorem facti et approbatorem ? Aut quid refert utrum voluerim fieri an gaudeam factum? Ecquis est igitur te excopto et iis qui ilium regnare gaudebant, qui illud aut fieri noluerit, aut factum improbarit? Omnes enim in culpa. Etenim omnes boni quantum in ips.s fuit Caesarem occiderunt. Aliis consilium, aliis animus, aliis occasio defuit. Voluntai •icniini." — 2d Phil/pjnc, 12. 2 Dion Cassius. The Kingsliip. 50^ ceive them. Some said that he was moving, but tliat Cornelius Balbus pulled him doAvn. Others said that he was unwell. Pontius Aquila, a tribune, had shortly before refused to rise to Caesar. The senators thought he meant to read them a lesson in return, He intended to be king, it seemed ; the constitution was gone, another Tarquin was about to seize tho throne of Republican Rome. Cagsar was king in fact, and to recognize facts is more salutary than to ignore them. An acknowledg- ment of Caesar as king might have made the problem of reorganization easier than it proved. The army had thought of it. He was on the point of starting for Parthia, and a prophecy had said that tlie Par- thians could only be conquered by a king. But the Roman people w^ere sensitive about names. Though tlieir liberties w^ere restricted for the present, they liked to hope that one day the Porum might recover its greatness. The Senate, meditating on the insult which they had received, concluded that Caesar might be tempted, and that if they could bring him to con- sent he would lose the people's hearts. They had already made him Dictator for life ; they voted next that he really should be King, and, not formally per- haps, but tentatively, they offered him the crown. He was sounded as to whether he w^ould accept it. He understood the snare, and refused. What was to be done next ? He would soon be gone to the East. Rome and its hollow adulations would lie behind him, and their one opportunity w^ould be gone also. They employed some one to place a diadem on the head of bis statue which stood upon the Rostra.^ It was 1 So Dion Cassius states, on what authority we know not. Suetonius iays that as Caesar was returning from the Latin festival some onp placed t laurel crown on the statue, tied with a white ribbon. 504 C(Bsar. done publicly, in the midst of a vast crowd, in Cae- sar's presence. Two eager tribunes tore the diadem down, and ordered the offender into custody. The treachery of the Senate was not the only danger. His friends in the army had the same ambition for him. A few days later, as he was riding through the streets, he was saluted as King by the mob. Caesar answered calmly that he was not King, but Caesar, and there the matter might have ended ; but the tribunes rushed into the crowd to arrest the leaders ; a riot followed, for which Caesar blamed them ; they complained noisily ; he brought their conduct before the Senate, and they were censured and suspended ; but suspicion was doing its work, and honest republi- can hearts began to heat and kindle. The kingship assumed a more serious form on the 15th of February at the Lupercalia — the ancient carnival. Caesar was in his chair, in his consular purple, wearing a wreath of bay, wrought in gold. The honor of the wreath was the only distinction which he had accepted from the Senate with pleasure. He retained a remnant of youthful vanity, and the twisted leaves concealed his baldness. Antony, his colleague in the consulship, approached with a tiara, and placed it on Caesar's head, saying, '^ The people give you this by my hand." That Antony had no sinister purpose is obvious. He perhaps spoke for the army ; ^ or it may be that Caesar himself suggested Antony's action, that he might end the agitation of so dangerous a subject. He answered in a loud voice *' that the Romans had no king but God," and ordered that the tiara should be taken to the Capitol, and 1 The fact is certain. Cicero taunted Antony with it >n the Senate, io the Second Philippic. The Qonspiraoy. 505 placed on the statue of Jupiter Olympius. The crowd burst into an enthusiastic cheer; and an inscription on a brass tablet recorded that the Roman people had offered Caesar the crown by the hands of the consul, and that Caesar had refused it. The question of the kingship was over ; but a vaguu alarm had been created, which answered the purpose of the Optimates. Caesar was at their mercy any day. They had sworn to maintain all his acts. They had sworn, after Cicero's speech, individually and col- lectively to defend his life. Caesar, whether he be- lieved them sincere or not, had taken them at their word, and came daily to the Senate unarmed and without a guard. He had a protection in the people. If the Optimates killed him without preparation, they knew that they would be immediately massacred. But an atmosphere of suspicion and uncertainty had been successfully generated, of which they determined to take immediate advantage. There were no troops in the city. Lepidus, Caesar's master of the horse, who had been appointed governor of Gaul, was out- side the gates, with a few cohorts ; but Lepidus was a person of feeble character, and they trusted to be able to deal with him. Sixty senators, in all, were parties to the immediate conspiracy. Of these nine tenths were members of the old faction whom Caesar had pardoned, and who, of all his acts, resented most that he had been able to pardon them. They were the men who had stayed at home, like Cicero, from the fields of Thapsus and Munda, and had pretended penitence and submission that they might take an easier road to rid themselves of their enemy. Their motives were the ambition of their riV(\(^v 'AVi(\ personal hatred of Csesar ; but they 506 OcBsar. ^ persuaded themselves that they were animated b;^ patriotism, and as, in their hands, the Republic had been a mockery of liberty, so they aimed at restoring it by a mock tyrannicide. Their oaths and their pro- fessions were nothing to them. If they were entitled to kill Csesar, they were entitled equally to deceive him. No stronger evidence is needed of the demoral- ization of the Roman Senate than the completeness with which they were able to disguise from them- selves the baseness of their treachery. One man only they were able to attract into cooperation who had a reputation for honesty, and could be conceived, without absurdity, to be animated by a disinterested purpose. Marcus Brutus was the son of Cato's sister Servilia, the friend, and a scandal said the mistress, of Caesar. That he was Caesar's son was not too absurd for the credulity of Roman drawing-rooms. Brutus himself could not have believed in the existence of such a re- lation, for he was deeply attached to his mother; and although, under the influence of his uncle Cato, he had taken the Senate's side in the war, he had ac- cepted afterwards not pardon only from Caesar, but favors of many kinds, for which he had professed, and probably felt, some real gratitude. He had married Cato's daughter, Portia, and on Cato's death had pub- lished a eulogy upon him. Csesar left him free to think and write what he pleased. He had made him praetor; he had nominated him to the governorship of Macedonia. Brutus was perhaps the only member of the senatorial party in whom Caesar felt genuine confidence. His known integrity, and Csesar's ac- knowledged regard for him, made his accession to the conspiracy an object of particular importance. Tlie The Qonspif^JLcy, 507 name of Brutus would be a guaranty to the people of rectitude of intention. Brutus, as the world went^ was of more than average honesty. He had sworn to be faithful to Caesar as the rest had sworn, and an oath with him was not a thing to be emotionalized away ; but he was a fanatical republican, a man of gloomy habits, given to dreams and omens, and easily liable to be influenced by appeals to visionary feel- ings. Caius Cassius, his brother-in-law, was employed to work upon him. Cassius, too, was praetor that year, having been also nominated to office by Caesar. He knew Brutus, he knew where and how to move him. He reminded him of the great traditions of his name. A Brutus had delivered Rome from the Tar- quins. The blood of a Brutus was consecrated to liberty. This, too, was mockerj^: Brutus, who ex- pelled the Tarquins, put his sons to death, and died childless ; Marcus Brutus came of good plebeian fam- ily, with no glories of tyrannicide about them ; but an imaginary genealogy suited well with the spurious heroics which veiled the motives of Caesar's mur- derers. Brutus, once wrought upon, became with Cassius the most ardent in the cause which assumed the as- pect to him of a sacred duty. Behind them were the crowd of senators of the familiar faction, and others worse than they, who had not even the excuse of liav- ing been partisans of the beaten cause ; men w^ho had fought at Caesar's side till the war was over, and be- lieved, like Labienus, that to them Caesar owed liia fortune, and that he alone ought not to reap the har- vest. One of these was Trebonius, who had miscon- ducted himself in Spain, and was smarting under the recollection of his own failures. Trebonius had long 608 Coesar. before sounded Antony on the desirableness of remov- ing their chief. Antony, though he remained himself true, had unfortunately kept his friend's counsel. Trebonius had been named by Caesar for a future con- sulship, but a distant reward was too little for him. Another and a yet baser traitor was Decimus Brutus, whom Caesar valued and trusted beyond all his officei's, whom he had selected as guardian for Augustus, and had noticed, as was seen afterwards, with special affection in his will. The services of these men were invaluable to the conspirators on account of their in- fluence with the army. Decimus Brutus, like Labie- nus, had enriched himself in Caesar's campaigns, and had amassed near half a million of English money.^ It may have been easy to persuade him and Trebonius that a grateful Republic would consider no recom- pense too large to men who would sacrifice their com- mander to their country. To Caesar they could be no more than satellites ; the first prizes of the Empire would be offered to the choice of the saviours of the constitution. So composed was this memorable band, to whom was to fall the bad distinction of completing the ruin of the senatorial rule. Caesar would have spared something of it ; enough, perhaps, to have thrown up shoots again as soon as he had himself passed away in the common course of nature. By combining in a focus the most hateful characteristics of the order, by revolting the moral instincts of mankind by ingrati- tude and treachery, they stripped their cause by their own hands of the false glamour which they hoped tc throw over it. The profligacy and avarice, the cyni* 1 "Cam ad rempublicam liberandam accessi, HS. mihi luit qua(lrinff«»ik ties amplius." —Decimus Brutus to CicerOy Ad Fam. xi. K. The Conspiracy. 509 cal disregard of obligation, which had marked the Senate's supremacy for a century, had exhibited abundantly their unfitness for the high functions which had descended to them ; but custom and natural tenderness for a form of government, the past his- tory of which had been so glorious, might have con- tinued still to shield them from the penalty of their iniquities. The murder of Caesar filled the measure of their crimes, and gave the last and necessary im- pulse to the closing act of the revolution. Thus the Ides of March drew near. Csesar was to 9 set out in a few days for Parthia. Decimus Brutus was going, as governor, to the north of Italy, Lepidus to Gaul, Marcus Brutus to Macedonia, and Tre- bonius to Asia Minor. Antony, Caesar's colleague in the consulship, was to remain in Italy. Dolabella, Cicero's son-in-law, was to be consul with him as soon as Caesar should have left for the East. The foreign appointments were all made for five years, and in another week the party would be scattered. The time for action had come, if action there was to be. Papers were dropped in Brutus's room, bidding him awake from his sleep. On the statue of Junius Brutus some hot republican wrote '^ Would that thou wast alive ! " The assassination in itself was easy, for Csesar would take no precautions. So porten- tous an intention could not be kept entirely secret : many friends warned him to beware ; but he dis- dained too heartily the worst that his enemies could do to him to vex himself with thinking of them, and he forbade the subject to be mentioned any more in his presence. Portents, prophecies, soothsay ings, frightful aspects in the sacrifices, natural growths of alarm nnd excitement, were equally vain. '' Am I 510 Ccesar. to be frightened," he said, in answer to some report of the haruspices, ''because a sheep is without a heart ? " An important meeting of the Senate had been called for the Ides (the 16th) of the month. The Pontifices, it was whispered, intended to bring on again the question of the Kingship before Caesar's de- parture. The occasion would be appropriate. The Senate-house itself was a convenient scene of opera- tions. The conspirators met at supper the evening before at Cassius's house. Cicero, to his regret, was not invited. The plan was simple, and was rapidly ^ arranged. Caesar would attend unarmed. The sena- tors not in the secret would be unarmed also. The party who intended to act were to provide them- selves with poniards, which could be easily concealed in their paper boxes. So far all was simple ; but a March 14 qucstion rosc whether Csesar only was to B.C. 4;. Y)e killed, or whether Antony and Lepidus were to be dispatched along with him. They decided that Caesar's death would be sufficient. To spill blood without necessity would mar, it was thought, the sub- limity of their exploit. Some of them liked Antony. None supposed that either he or Lepidus w^ould be dangerous when Ca3sar was gone. In this resolution Cicero thought that they made a fatal mistake;^ fine emotions were good in their place, in the perorations of speeches and such like ; Antony, as Cicero admit- ted, had been signally kind to him; but the killing Caesar was a sei-ious business, and his friends should have died along with him. It was def?ermined other- 1 ** Vellem Idibus Martiis me ad ccenam iiivitasses. Reliquiarum nihi* fuisset." — Ad Cassium^ Ad Fam. xii. 4. And again: ''Qiiam vellem ad illas pulchevrimas epiilas me Idibus Martiis invitasses! Reliquiarum uihi haberemus." — Ad Trebonium^ Ad Fam. x. 28. The Uve of the Murder. 511 wise. Antony and Lepidus were not to be touched. For the rest, the assassins had merely to be in their places in the Senate in good time. When Caesar en- tered, Trebonius was to detain Antony in conversa- tion at the door. The others were to gather about Caesar's chair on pretence of presenting a petition, and so could make an end. A gang of gladiators were to be secreted in the adjoining theatre to be ready should any unforeseen difficulty present itself. The same evening, the 14th of March, Csesar waa at a '' Last Supper" at the house of Lepidus. The conversation turned on death, and on the kind of death which was most to be desired. Caesar, who was signing papers while the rest were talking, looked up and said, '' A sudden one." When great men die, imagination insists that all nature shall have felt the shock. Strange stories were told in after years of the uneasy labors of the elements that night, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves did open, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and jibber in the Roman streets. The armor of Mars, which stood in the hall of the Pontifical Palace, crashed down upon the pavement. The door of Caesar's room flew open. Calpurnia dreamt her husband was murdered, and that she saw him ascending into heaven, and received by the hand of God.^ In the morning the sacrifices were again unfavorable. Caesar was restless. Some natu- ral disorder affected his spirits, and his spirits were reacting on his body. Contrary to his usual habit, he gave way to depression. He decided, at his wife's entreaty, that he would not attend the Senate that day. ^ Dian Cassius, C Julim Ccesar, xliv. 17. 512 Ocesar. The house was full. The conspirators were in March 15, their places with their daggers ready. At- B. C.44. tendants came into remoTe Caesar's chair. It was announced that he was not coming. Dela.y might be fatal. They conjectured that he already suspected something. A day's respite, and all might be discovered. His familiar friend whom he trusted — the coincidence is striking ! — was employed to betray him. Decimus Brutus, whom it was impossi- ble for him to distrust, went to entreat his attend- ance, giving reasons to which he knew that Caesai' would listen, unless the plot had been actually be- trayed. It was now eleven in the forenoon. Caesar shook off his uneasiness, and rose to go. As he crossed the hall, his statue fell, and shivered on the stones. Some servant, perhaps, had heard whispers, and wished to warn him. As he still passed on, a stranger thrust a scroll into his hand, and begged him to read it on the spot. It contained a list of the conspirators, with a clear account of the plot. He supposed it to be a petition, and placed it carelessly among his other papers. The fate of the Empire hung upon a thread, but the thread was not broken. As Ca3sar had lived to reconstruct the Roman world, so his death was necessary to finish the work. He went on to the Curia, and the senators said to tlienl- selves that the augurs had foretold his fate, but he would not listen ; he was doomed for his " contempt of I'eligion." ^ Antony, who was in attendance, was detained, as had been arranged, by Trebonius. Csesar entered, and took his seat. His presence awed men, in spite of themselves, and the conspirators had determined 1 *' Sprota religioiie." — Suetonius. Murdet of Ccesar, 513 to act at once, lest tbey should lose courage to act at all. He was familiar and easy of access. They gathered round him. He knew them all. There was not one from whom he had not a right to expect some sort of gratitude, and the movement euggested no suspicion. One had a story to tell him ; another some favor to ask. TuUius Cimber, whom he had just made governor of Bithynia, then came close to him, with some request which he was unwilling to grant. Cimber caught his gown, as if in entreaty, and dragged it from his shoulders. Cassius,^ who was standing behind, stabbed him in the throat. He started up with a cry, and caught Cassius's arm. An- other poniard entered his breast, giving a mortal wound. He looked round, and seeing not one friendly face, but only a ring of daggers pointing at him, he drew his gown over his head, gathered the folds about him that he might fall decently, and sank down with- out uttering another word.^ Cicero was present. The feelings with which he watched the scene are unrecorded, but may easily be imagined. Waving his dagger, dripping with Caesar's blood, Brutus shouted to Cicero by name, congratulating him that liberty was restored.^ The Senate rose with shrieks and confusion, and rushed into the Forum. The crowd outside caught the words that Ceesar was dead, 1 Not perhaps Gains Cassius, but another. Suetonius says *' alter 9 Cassiis." 2 So says Suetonius, the best extant authority, who refers to the famciua words addressed to Brutus only as a legend : * Atque ita tribu* et viginti plagis confossus est, uno modo ad prinium ictuni geniitu sine voce edito. Etsi tradiderunt quidam Marco Bruto irruenti dixisse /cat av cl iKeiviav KOL (jv Te/ci/oj/?" — Julius Ccesar, 82. 8 '* Cruentum alte extollens Marcus Brutus pugionem, Ciceronem nomi- natim exclamavit atque ei recuperatarn libcrtatem est gratulatus." —Phi' Ufpic ii. 12. 614 JcBsar. and scattered to their houses. Antony, guessing that those who had killed Cassar would not spare himself, hurried off into concealment. The murderers, bleed- ing some of them from wounds which they had given one another in their eagerness, followed, crying that the tyrant was dead, and that Rome was free ; and the body of the great Cassar was left alone in the house where a few weeks before Cicero told him that he was so necessary to his country that every senatoz would die before harm should reach him I I CHAPTER XXVIL The tyrannicides, as the murderers of Csesar called themselves, had expected that the Roman mob would 06 caught by the cry of Liberty, and would Marohio, hail them as the deliverers of their country. ^' ^' ^* They found that the people did not respond as they had anticipated. The city was stunned. The Forum was empty. The gladiators, whom they had secreted in the Temple, broke out and plundered the unpro- tected booths. A dead and ominous silence prevailed everywhere. At length a few citizens collected in knots. Brutus spoke, and Cassius spoke. They ex- tolled their old constitution. They said that Caesar had overthrown it ; that they had slain him, not from private hatred or private interest, but to restore the liberties of Rome. The audience was dead and cold. No answering shouts came back to reassure them. The citizens could not forget that these men who spoke so fairly had a few days before fawned on Cae- sar as the saviour of the Empire, and, as if human honors were too little, had voted a temple to him us a god. The fire would not kindle. Lepidus came in with troops, and occupied the Forum. The conspira- tors withdrew into the Capitol, where Cicero and others joined them, and the night was passed in earnest discussion what next was to be done. They had intended to declare that Ca9sar had been a tyrant, to throw his bodj^ into the Tiber, and to confiscate his property to the State. They discovered to tlieir 516 Ccesar, consternation that if Csesar was a tryant, all his acts would be invalidated. The praetors and tribunes held their offices, the governors their provin "ies, un- der Csesar's nomination. If Csesar's acts were set March 16 asidc, Dccimus Ri utus was not governor of II. 0. 44. North Italy, nor Marcus Brutus of Mace- elonia ; nor was Dolabella consul, as he had instantly claimed to be on Caesar's death. Their names, ind the names of many more whom Caesar had promoted, would have to be laid before the Comitia, and hi the doubtful humor of the people they little liked the risk. That the dilemma should have been totally unforeseen was characteristic of the men and their capacity. Nor was this the worst. Lands had been allotted to Caesar's troops. Many thousands of colonists were waiting to depart for Carthage and Corinth and other places where settlements had been provided for them. These arrangements would equally fall through, and it was easy to know what would follow. Antony and Lepidus, too, had to be reckoned with. Antony, as the surviving consul, was the supreme lawful authority in the city ; and Lepidus and his ,K)ldiers might have a word to say if the body of their great commander was flung into the river as the corpse of a malefactor. Interest and fear suggested more moderate counsels. The conspirators determined that Caesar's appointments must stand ; his acts, it beemed, must stand also ; and his remains, therefore, inust be treated with respect. Imagination took an- other flight. Caesar's death might be regarded as a men than like wild beasts in cy- 1 Philippic :i. 35. 518 Coesar. St. I sles of recurring revenge. Let us forget the past, Let us draw a veil over all that has been done, not looking too curiously into the acts of any man. Much may be said to show that Caesar deserved his death, and much against those who have killeii him. But to raise the question will breed fresh quar- rels ; and if we are wise we shall regard the scene which we have witnessed as a convulsion of nature which is now at an end. Let Caesar's ordinances, lei Csesar's appointments be maintained. None such must be heard of again. But what is done cannot be undone." ^ Admirable advice, were it as easj^ to act on good counsel as to give it. The murder of such a man as Caesar was not to be so easily smoothed over. But the delusive vision seemed for a moment to please. The Senate passed an act of oblivion. The agitation in the army was quieted when the men heard that their lands were secure. But there were two other questions which required an answer, and an immedi- ate one. Caesar's body, after remaining till evening on the floor of the Senate-house, had been carried home in the dusk in a litter by three of his servants, and was now lying in his palace. If it was not to be thrown into the Tiber, what was to be done with it ? Caesar had left a will, which was safe with his other papers in the hands of Antony. Was the will to be read and recognized ? Though Cicero had a<> vised in the Senate that the discussion whether Caesar had deserved death should not be raised, yet it was plain to him and to every one that, unless Caesar was held guilty of conspiring against the constitution, the 1 Abridged from Dion Cassius, who probably gives no more than th« traditionary version of Cicero's words. Funeral of Coesar. 519 murder was and would be regarded as a most exe- crable crime. He dreaded the effect of a public fu- neral. He feared that the will might contain provi- sions which would rouse the passions of the people. Though Caesar was not for various reasons to be pro- nounced a tyrant, Cicero advised that he should be buried privately, as if his name was under a cloud, and that his property should be escheated to the na- tion. But the humor of conciliation and the theory of " the atoning sacrifice " had caught the Senate. Csesar had done great things for his country. It would please the army that he should have an honor- able sepulture. If they had refused, the result would not have been greatly diff'erent. Sooner or later, when the stun- ning effects of the shock had passed off, the murder must have appeared to Rome and Italy in its true colors. The Optimates talked of the constitution. The constitution in their hands had been a parody of liberty. Caesar's political life had been spent in wresting from them the powers which they had abused. Caesar had punished the oppres- March, Bors of the provinces. Caesar had forced the ^•^•^^■ nobles to give the people a share of the public lands. Caesar had opened the doors of citizenship to the libertini, the distant colonists, and the provincials. It was for this that the Senate hated him. For this they had fought against him ; for this they murdered bim. No Roman had ever served his countrj- better m peace or war, and thus he had been rewarded. Such thoughts were already working in tens of thousands of breasts. A feeling of resentment waa fast rising, with as yet no certain purpose before it, la this mood the funeral could not fail to lead to 520 Qoe%ar, some terce explosion. For this reason Antony had pressed for it, and the Senate had given their con- sent. The body was brought down to the Forum and placed upon the Rostra. The dress had not been , changed ; the gown, gashed with daggers and soaked in blood, was still wrapped about it. The will was read first. It reminded the Romans that they had been always in Cassar's thoughts, for he had left each citizen seventy-five drachmas (nearly 3?. of English money), and he had left them his gardens on the Ti- ber, as a perpetual recreation ground, a possession which Domitius Ahenobarbus had designed for him- self before Pharsalia. He had made Octavius his general heir ; among the second heirs, should Octa- vius fail, he had named Decimus Brutus, who had betrayed him. A deep movement of emotion passed through the crowd when, beside the consideration for themselves, they heard from this record, which could not lie, a proof of the confidence which had been so abused. Antony, after waiting for the passion to work, then came forward. Cicero had good reason for his fear of Antony. He was a loose soldier, careless in his life, ambitious, extravagant, little more scrupulous perhaps than any average Roman gentleman. But for Ci^esar his affec- tion was genuine. The people were in intense expec- tation. He produced the body, all bloody as it had fallen, and he bade a herald first read the votes which the Senate had freshly passed, heaping those extravagant honors upon Caesar which he had not de- sired, and the oath which the senators had each per- Bonally taken to defend him from violence. He then spoke — spoke with the natural vehemence of a Speech of Antony, 521 friend, yet saying nothing which was not literally true. The services of Cassar neither needed nor per- mitted the exaggeration of eloquence. He began with the usual encomiums. He spoke of Caasar's family, his birth, his early history, his personal characteristics, his thrifty private habits, his public liberality ; he described him as generous to his friends, forbearing with his enemies, without evil in himself, and reluctant to believe evil of others. '-'" Power in most men," he said, '' has brought their faults to light. Power in Caesar brought into prom- inence his excellences. Prosperity did not make him insolent, for it gave him a sphere which corresponded to his nature. His first services in Spain deserved a triumph ; of his laws I could speak forever. His campaigns in Gaul are known to you all. The land from which the Teutons and Cimbri poured over the Alps is now as well ordered as Italy. Caesar would have added Germany and Britain to your Empire, but his enemies would not have it so. They re- garded the Commonwealth as the patrimony of them* selves. They brought him home. They went on with their usurpations till you yourselves required his help. He set you free. He set Spain free. He la- bored for peace with Pompey, but Pompey preferred to go into Greece, to bring the powers of the East upon you, and he perished in his obstinacy. " Caesar took no honor to himself for this victory. He abhorred the necessity of it. He took no revenge. Ho praised those who had been faithful to Pompey, and he blamed Pharnaces for deserting him. He was sorry for Pompey's death, and he treated his murder- ers as they deserved. He settled Egypt and Ar- menia. He would have disposed of the P.arthianft 622 Omsar. 1 had not fresh seditions recalled him to Italy. He quelled those seditions. He restored peace in Africa and Spain, and again his one desire was to spare his fellow-citizens. There was in him an 'inbred good- ness.' ^ He was always the same — never carried a^^ay by anger, and never spoilt by success. He did not retaliate for the past, he never tried by severity to secure himself for the future. His effort through out was to save all who would allow themselves to be saved. He repaired old acts of injustice. He re- stored the families of those who had been proscribed by Sylla, but he burnt unread the correspondence of Pompey and Scipio, that those whom it compromised might neither suffer injury nor fear injury. You honored him as your father ; you loved him as youi. benefactor; you made him chief of the State, not be- ing curious of titles, but regarding the most which you could give as less than he had deserved at your hands. Towards the gods he was High Priest. To you he was Consul ; to the army he was Imperator ; to the enemies of his country Dictator. In sum he was Pater Patrice, And this your father, j^-our Pon- tifex, this hero, whose person was declared inviolable, lies dead — dead, not by disease or age, not by war or visitation of God, but here at home, by conspiracy within jonv own walls, slain in the Senate-house, the warrior unarmed, the peacemaker naked to his foes, the righteous judge in the seat of judgment. He whom no foreign enemy could hurt has been killed by his fellow-countrymen — he, who had so often shown mercy, by those whom he had spared. Where, 1 'EiOK^UTo? x9wr6Tri<; are Dion Cassius's words. Antony's language was differently reported, and perhaps there was no literal record of it. Dion Cassius, however, can hardly have himself composed the version which he gives in his history, for he calls the speech as ill-t'iii(d as it was brilliant. Speech of Antony » 623 Caesar,^ your love for mankind? Where is the sacredness of your life? Where are your laws? Here you lie murdered — here in the Forum, through which so often you marched in triumph Avrealhed with garlands ; here upon the rostra from which you were wont to address your people. Alas for your gray hairs dabbled in blood ! alas for this lacerated robe in which you were dressed for the sacrifice ! '' ^ Antony's words, as he well knew, were a declara- tion of irreconcilable war against the murderers and their friends. As his impassioned language did its work the multitude rose into fury. They cursed the conspirators. They cursed the Senate who had sat by while the deed was being done. They had been moved to fury by the murder of Clodius. Ten thou- sand Clodiuses, had he been all which their imagina- tion painted him, could not equal one Caesar. They took on themselves the order of the funeral. They surrounded the body, which was reverently raised by the officers of the Forum. Part proposed to carry it to the Temple of Jupiter, in the Capitol, and to burn it under the eyes of the assassins ; part to take it into the Senate-house and use the meeting-place of the Optimates a second time as the pyre of the people's friend. A few legionaries, perhaps to spare the city a general conflagration, advised that it should be con- sumed where it lay. The platform was torn up and the broken timbeis piled into a heap. Chairs and benches were thrown on to it, the whole crowd rush- ing wildly to add a chip or splinter. Actors flung in their dresses, musicians their instruments, soldiers their swords. Women added their necklaces and scarfs. Mothers brought up their children to con- 1 Abridged from Dion Cassias, xliv. 36. 524 Ccesar. tribute toys and playthings. On the pile so composed the body of Caesar was reduced to ashes. The re- mains were collected with affectionate care B. C 44. and deposited in the tomb of the Caesars, in the Campus Martius. The crowd, it was observed, was composed largely of libertini and of provincials whom Caesar had enfranchised. The demonstrations of sorrow were most remarkable among the Jews, crowds of whom continued for many nights to collect and wail in the Forum at the scene of the singular ceremony. When the people were in such a mood, Rome was no place fcr the conspirators. They scattered over the Empire : Decimus Brutus, Marcus Brutus, Cas- sius, Cimber, Trebonius, retreated to the provinces which Csesar had assigned them, the rest clinging to the shelter of their J-iends. The legions — a striking tribute to Roman discipline — remained by their eagles, faithful to their immediate duties, and obedi- ent to their officers, till it could be seen how events would turn. Lepidus joined the army in Gaul; An- tony continued in Rome, holding the administration in his hands and watching the action of the Senate. Caesar was dead. But Caesar still lived. '^ It was not possible that the grave should hold him." The people said that he was a god, and had gone back to boaven, where his star had been seen ascending ; ^ his spirit remained on earth, and the vain blows of the assassins had been but "malicious mockery." " Wo have killed the king," exclaimed Cicero in the bitter- ness of his disenchantment, '' but the kingdom is with Uo still ; " '' we have taken away the tyrant ; the tyr* ^ *" »a deorum num^rum relatus osi noii ore modo decerneatium sed el perguasione vulgi." — Suetonius. Fruitlessness of the Murder, 525 anny survives." Csesar had not overthrown the oli- garchy ; their own incapacity, their own selfishness, their own baseness, had overthrown them. Caesar had been but the reluctant instrument of the power which metes out to men tlie inevitable penalties of then" own misdeeds. They had dreamt that the con- stitution was a living force which would revive of it- self as soon as its enemy was gone. They did not know that it was dead already, and that they had themselves destroyed it. The constitution was but an agreement by which the Roman people had con- sented to abide for their common good. It had ceased to be for the common good. The experience of fifty miserable years had proved that it meant the suprem- acy of the rich, maintained by the bought votes of demoralized electors. The soil of Italy, the industry and happiness of tens of millions of mankind, from the Rhine to the Euphrates, had been the spoil of five hundred families and their relatives and depend- ents, of men whose occupation was luxury, and whose appetites were for monstrous pleasures. The self- respect of reasonable men could no longer tolerate such a rule in Italy or out of it. In killing Caesar the Optimates had been as foolish as they were treach- erous ; for Caesar's efforts had been to reform the con- stitution, not to abolish it. The Civil War had risen from their dread of his second consulship, which they Lad feared would make an end of their corruptions ; and that the constitution should be purged of the poison in its veins was the sole condition on which its continuance was possible. The obstinacy, the feroc- ity, the treachery of the aristocracy, had compelled Caesar to crush them ; and the more desperate their itruggles the more absolute the necessity became, 526 Ocesar. But he alone could have restored as much of popular liberty as was consistent with the responsibilities of such a government as the Empire required. In Caesar alone were combined the intellect and the power nec- essary for such a work ; and they had killed him, and in doing so had passed final sentence on themselves. Not as realities any more, but as harmless phantoms, the forms of the old Republic were henceforth to per- sist. In the army only remained the Imperial con- sciousness of the honor and duty of Roman citizens. To the army, therefore, the rule was transferred. The Roman nation had grown as the oak grows, self- developed in severe morality, each citizen a law to himself, and therefore capable of political freedom in an unexampled degree. All organizations destined to endure spring from forces inherent in themselves, and must grow freely, or they will not grow at all. When the tree reaches maturity, decay sets in ; if it be left standing, the disintegration of the fibre goes swiftly forward ; if the stem is severed from the root, the do- Btroying power is arrested, and the timber will endure a thousand years. So it was with Rome. The con- stitution under which the Empire had sprung up was poisoned, and was brought to a violent end before it had affected materially for evil the masses of the peo- ple. The solid structure was preserved — not to grow any longer, not to produce a new Camillus or a new Regulus, a new Scipio Africanus or a new Tibe- rius Gracchus, but to form an endurable shelter for civilized mankind, until a fresh, spiritual life was de- veloped out of Palestine to remodel the conscience of humanity A gleam of h;)pe opened to Cicero in the summer. Octavius, who was in Greece afc the time of the Octavius and Antony. 527 murder, came to Rome to claim his inheritance. He was but eighteen, too young for the burden \yhich was thrown upon him ; and being unknown, he had the confidence of the legions to win. The army, dis- persed over the provinces, had as yet no collective purpose. Antony, it is possible, was jealous of him, and looked on himself as Caesar's true representative and avenger. Octavius, finding Antony hostile, or at least indifferent to his claims, played with the Senate with cool foresight till he felt the ground firm under his feet. Cicero boasted that he would use Octavius to ruin Antony, and would throw him over when he had served his purpose. " Cicero will learn," Octavius said, when the words were reported to him, " that I shall not be played with so easily." For a year the confusion lasted ; two of Caesar's officers, Hirtius and Pausa, were chosen b. c. 44- consuls by the senatorial party, to please ^^• the legions; and Antony contended dubiously with them and Decimus Brutus for some months in the North of Italy. But Antony joined Lepidus, and the Gallic legions with judicial fitness brought Cic- ero's dreams to the ground. Cicero's friend, Plan- cus, who commanded in Normandy and Belguun, at- tempted a faint resistance, but was made to yield to the resolution of his troops. Octavius and Antony came to an understanding ; and Caesar's two gener- als, who were true to bis memory, and Octavius, who was the heir of his name, crossed the Alps, at the head of the united army of Gaul, to punish the mur- der and restore peace to the world. No resistance was possible. Many of the senators, like Cicero, though they had borne no part in the assassination, had taken the guilt of it upon themselves by the en- 628 Coesar, thusiasm of their approval. They were all men who had sworn fidelity to Csesar, and had been ostenta- tious in their profession of devotion to him. It had become too plain that from such persons no repent- ance was to be looked for. They were impelled by a malice or a fanaticism which clemency could not touch or reason influence. So long as they lived they would still conspire ; and any weapons, either of open war or secret treachery, would seem justifiable to them in the cause which they regarded as sacred. Caesar himself would, no doubt, have again pardoned them. Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus were men of more common mould. The murderers of Caesar, and those who had either instigated them secretly or ap- plauded them afterwards, were included in a pro- scription list, drawn by retributive justice on the model of Sylla's. Such of them as were in Italy were immediately killed. Those in the provinces, as if with the curse of Cain upon their heads, B C 43. came one by one to miserable ends. Bru- tus and Cassius fought hard and fell at Philippi. In three years the tyrannicides of the Ides of March, with their aiders and abettors, were all dead, some killed in battle, some in prison, some dying by their own hand — slain with the daggers with which they had stabbed their master. Out of the whole party the fate of one only de- serves special notice, a man whose splendid talents have bought forgiveness for his faults, and have given him a place in the small circle of the really great whose memory is not allowed to die. After the dispersion of the conspirators which fol- lowed Csesar's funeral, Cicero had remained in Rome. His timidity seemed to have forsaken him, and he Fate of Cicero. 529 had striyen, with an energy which recalled his bright- est days, to set the constitution again upon its feet. Antony charged him in the Senate with having been the contriver of Caesar's death. He replied with in- vectives fierce and scurrilous as those which he had heaped upon Catiline and Clodius. A time had been when he had affected to look on Antony as his pre* server. Now there was no imaginable infamy in which he did not steep his name. He spoke of the murder as the most splendid achievement recorded in history, and he regretted only that he had not been taken into counsel by the deliverers of their country. Antony would not then have been alive to rekindle civil discord. When Antony left Rome, Cicero was for a few months again the head of the State. He ruled the Senate, controlled the Treasury, corre- sponded with the conspirators in the provinces, and advised their movements. He continued sanguine himself, and he poured spirit into others. No one can refuse admiration to the last blaze of his expiring powers. But when he heard that Antony December 7 and Lepidus and Octavius had united, and ^ ^' ^"• were coming into Italy with the whole Western army, he saw that all was over. He was now sixty-three — too old for hope. He could hardly have wished to live, and this time he was well assured that tliere would be no mercy for him. Caesar would have spared a man whom he esteemed in spite of his in- firmities. But there was no Caesar now, and fair speeches would serve his turn no longer. He retired from the city with his brother Quintus, and had some half-formed purpose of flying to Brutus, who was still in arms in Macedonia. He even embarked, but with- out a settled resolution, and he allowed himself to be 34 530 Ccesar. 2 driven back by a storm. Theatrical even in extremi ties, be thought of returning to Rome and of killing himself in C written on the return from Munda. Of all the lost writings, however, the most to be regretted is the How Coemr should he estimated, 547 " Anti-Cato." After Cato's death Cicero published a panegyric upon him. To praise Cato was to con- demn Csesar ; and Caesar repHed with a sketvjh of the Martyr of Utica as he had himself known him. The pamphlet, had it survived, would have shown how far Csesar was able to extend the forbearance so conspicu- ous in his other writings to the most respectable and the most inveterate of his enemies. The verdict of fact and the verdict of literature on the great contro- versy between them have been summed up in the memorable line of Lucan — Victrix causa Deis placuit, sed victa Catoni. Was Cato right, or were the gods right ? Perhaps both. There is a legend that at the death of Charles V. the accusing angel appeared in heaven with a catalogue of deeds which no advocate could palliate — countries laid desolate, cities sacked and burnt, lists of hundreds of thousands of widows and children brought to misery by the political ambition of a single man. The evil spirit demanded the offender's soul, and it seemed as if mercy itself could not refuse him the award. But at the last moment the Supreme Judge interfered. The Emperor, He said, had been sent into the world at a peculiar time, for a peculiar purpose, and was not to be tried by the ordinary rules. Titian has painted the scene : Charles kneel- ing before the Throne, with the consciousness, as be- came him, of human infirmities, written upon his countenance, yet neither afraid nor abject, relying in absolute faith that the Judge of all mankind would do right. Of Caesar too it may be said that he came into the world at a special time and for a special object. The 648 Ccemr, old religions were dead, from the Pillars of Herculea to the Euphrates and the Nile, and the principles on which human society had been constructed were dead also. There remained of spiritual conyiction only the common and human sense of justice and moral- ity; and out of this sense some ordered system of government had to be constructed, under which quiet men could live and labor and eat the fruit of their industry. Under a rule of this material kind there can be no enthusiasm, no chivalry, no saintly aspira- tions, no patriotism of the heroic type. It was not to last forever. A new life was about to dawn for mankind. Poetry, and faith, and devotion were to spring again out of the seeds which were sleeping in the heart of humanity. But the life which is to en- dure grows slowly ; and as the soil must be prepared before the wheat can be sown, so before the Kingdom of Heaven could throw up its shoots there was needed a kingdom of this world where the nations were neither torn in pieces by violence nor were rushing after false ideals and spurious ambitions. Such a kingdom was the Empire of the Caesars — a kingdom where peaceful men could work, think, and speak as they pleased, and travel freely among provinces ruled for the most part by Gallios who protected life and property, and forbade fanatics to tear each other in pieces for their religious opinions. '•^ It is not lawful for us to put any man to death," was the complaint of the Jewish priests to the Roman governor. Had Europe and Asia been covered with independent na- tions, each with a local religion represented in its ruhng powers, Christianity must have been stifled in its cradle. If St. Paul had escaped the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem, he would liave been torn to pieces by the The Kingdom of this World, 549 silversmiths at Ephesus. The appeal to Caesar's judgment-seat was the shield of his mission, and alone made possible his success. And this spirit, which confined government to its simplest duties, while it left opinion unfettered, was especially present in Julius Caesar himself. From cant of all kinds he was totally free. He was a friend of the people, but he indulged in no enthusiasm for liberty. He never dilated on the beauties of virtue, or complimented, as Cicero did, a Providence in which he did not believe. He was too sincere to stoop to unreality. He held to the facts of this life and to his own convictions ; and as he found no reason for supposing shat there was a life beyond the grave he did not pretend to expect it. He respected the re- ligion of the Roman State as an institution estab- lished by the laws. He encouraged or left unmolested the creeds and practices of the uncounted sects or tribes who were gathered under the eagles. But his own writings contain nothing to indicate that he him- self had any religious belief at all. He saw no evi- dence that the gods practically interfered in human affairs. He never pretended that Jupiter was on his side. He thanked his soldiers after a victorj^, but he did not order Te Deums to be sung for it ; and in the absence of these conventionalisms he perhaps showed more real reverence than he could have displayed by the freest use of the formulas of pietism. He fought his battles to establish some tolerable degree of justice in the government of this world ; and he succeeded, though he was murdered for doing it. Strange and startling resemblance between the fate of the founder of the kingdom of this world and of 550 Coesar. the Founder of the kingdom not of this world, for which the first was a preparation. Each was de- nounced for making himself a king. Each was ma- ligned as the friend of publicans and sinners ; each was betrayed by those whom he had loved and cared for ; each was put to death ; and Caesar also was be- lieved to have risen again and ascended into heaven and become a divine being. ■ 880'