History of Julius Caesar by Jacob Abbott
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Jacob Abbott >> History of Julius Caesar
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[Sidenote: Pompey arrives at Pelusium.]
Pompey's little squadron made its way slowly over the waters of the
Mediterranean toward Pelusium and the camp of Ptolemy. As they
approached the shore, both Pompey himself and Cornelia felt many anxious
forebodings. A messenger was sent to the land to inform the young king
of Pompey's approach, and to solicit his protection. The government of
Ptolemy held a council, and took the subject into consideration.
[Sidenote: Ptolemy's council resolve to murder Pompey.]
Various opinions were expressed, and various plans were proposed. The
counsel which was finally followed was this. It would be dangerous to
receive Pompey, since that would make Caesar their enemy. It would be
dangerous to refuse to receive him, as that would make Pompey their
enemy, and, though powerless now, he might one day be in a condition to
seek vengeance. It was wisest, therefore, to destroy him. They would
invite him to the shore, and kill him when he landed. This would please
Caesar; and Pompey himself, being dead, could never revenge it. "Dead
dogs," as the orator said who made this atrocious proposal, "do
not bite."
[Sidenote: The assassin Achillas.]
An Egyptian, named Achillas, was appointed to execute the assassination
thus decreed. An invitation was sent to Pompey to land, accompanied with
a promise of protection; and, when his fleet had approached near enough
to the shore, Achillas took a small party in a boat, and went out to
meet his galley. The men in this boat, of course, were armed.
[Sidenote: Suspicions of Pompey's friends.]
[Sidenote: Entreaties of Cornelia.]
[Sidenote: Pompey's forlorn condition.]
[Sidenote: He determines to land.]
The officers and attendants of Pompey watched all these movements from
the deck of his galley. They scrutinized every thing that occurred with
the closest attention and the greatest anxiety, to see whether the
indications denoted an honest friendship or intentions of treachery. The
appearances were not favorable. Pompey's friends observed that no
preparations were making along the shore for receiving him with the
honors due, as they thought, to his rank and station. The manner, too,
in which the Egyptians seemed to expect him to land was ominous of evil.
Only a single insignificant boat for a potentate who recently had
commanded half the world! Then, besides, the friends of Pompey observed
that several of the principal galleys of Ptolemy's fleet were getting up
their anchors, and preparing apparently to be ready to move at a sudden
call These and other indications appeared much more like preparations
for seizing an enemy than welcoming a friend. Cornelia, who, with her
little son, stood upon the deck of Pompey's galley, watching the scene
with a peculiar intensity of solicitude which the hardy soldiers around
her could not have felt, became soon exceedingly alarm ad. She begged
her husband Dot to go on shore. But Pompey decided that it was now too
late to retreat. He could not escape from the Egyptian galleys if they
had received orders to intercept him, nor could he resist violence if
violence were intended. To do any thing like that would evince distrust,
and to appear like putting himself upon his guard would be to take at
once, himself, the position of an enemy, and invite and justify the
hostility of the Egyptians in return. As to flight, he could not hope to
escape from the Egyptian galleys if they had received orders to prevent
it; and, besides, if he were determined on attempting an escape, whither
should he fly? The world was against him. His triumphant enemy was on
his track in full pursuit, with all the vast powers and resources of the
whole Roman empire at his command. There remained for Pompey only the
last forlorn hope of a refuge in Egypt, or else, as the sole
alternative, a complete and unconditional submission to Caesar. His
pride would not consent to this, and he determined, therefore, dark as
the indications were, to place himself, without any appearance of
distrust, in Ptolemy's hands, and abide the issue.
The boat of Achillas approached the galley. When it touched the side,
Achillas and the other officers on board of it hailed Pompey in the most
respectful manner, giving him the title of Imperator, the highest title
known in the Roman state. Achillas addressed Pompey in Greek. The Greek
was the language of educated men in all the Eastern countries in those
days. He told him that the water was too shallow for his galley to
approach nearer to the shore, and invited him to come on board of his
boat, and he would take him to the beach, where, as he said, the king
was waiting to receive him.
[Sidenote: Preparations for landing.]
[Sidenote: Pompey takes leave of his wife.]
With many anxious forebodings, that were but ill concealed, Pompey made
preparations to accept the invitation. He bade his wife farewell, who
clung to him as they were about to part with a gloomy presentiment that
they should never meet again. Two centurions who were to accompany
Pompey, and two servants, descended into the boat. Pompey himself
followed, and then the boatmen pushed off from the galley and made
toward the shore. The decks of all the vessels in Pompey's little
squadron, as well as those of the Egyptian fleet, were crowded with
spectators, and lines of soldiery and groups of men, all intently
watching the operations of the landing, were scattered along the shore.
[Sidenote: The assassins.]
[Sidenote: Gloomy silence.]
Among the men whom Achillas had provided to aid him in the assassination
was an offieer of the Roman army who had formerly served under Pompey.
As soon as Pompey was seated in the boat, he recognized the countenance
of this man, and addressed him, saying, "I think I remember you as
having been in former days my fellow-soldier." The man replied merely by
a nod of assent. Feeling somewhat guilty and self-condemned at the
thoughts of the treachery which he was about to perpetrate, he was
little inclined to renew the recollection of the days when he was
Pompey's friend. In fact, the whole company in the boat, filled on the
one part with awe in anticipation of the terrible deed which they were
soon to commit, and on the other with a dread suspense and alarm, were
little disposed for conversation, and Pompey took out a manuscript of an
address in Greek which he had prepared to make to the young king at his
approaching interview with him, and occupied himself in reading it over.
Thus they advanced in a gloomy and solemn silence, hearing no sound but
the dip of the oars in the water, and the gentle dash of the waves along
the line of the shore.
[Sidenote: Assassination of Pompey.]
At length the boat touched the sand, while Cornelia still stood on the
deck of the galley, watching every movement with great solicitude and
concern. One of the two servants whom Pompey had taken with him, named
Philip, his favorite personal attendant, rose to assist his master in
landing. He gave Pompey his hand to aid him in rising from his seat, and
at that moment the Roman officer whom Pompey had recognized as his
fellow-soldier, advanced behind him and stabbed him in the back. At the
same instant Achillas and the others drew their swords. Pompey saw that
all was lost. He did not speak, and he uttered no cry of alarm, though
Cornelia's dreadful shriek was so loud and piercing that it was heard
upon the shore. From the suffering victim himself nothing was heard but
an inarticulate groan extorted by his agony. He gathered his mantle over
his face, and sank down and died.
[Sidenote: Cornelia.]
[Sidenote: The funeral pile.]
[Sidenote: Pompey's ashes sent to Cornelia.]
Of course, all was now excitement and confusion. As soon as the deed was
done, the perpetrators of it retired from the scene, taking the head of
their unhappy victim with them, to offer to Caesar as proof that his
enemy was really no more. The officers who remained in the fleet which
had brought Pompey to the coast made all haste to sail away, bearing the
wretched Cornelia with them, utterly distracted with grief and despair,
while Philip and his fellow-servant remained upon the beach, standing
bewildered and stupefied over the headless body of their beloved master.
Crowds of spectators came in succession to look upon the hideous
spectacle a moment in silence, and then to turn, shocked and repelled,
away. At length, when the first impulse of excitement had in some
measure spent its force, Philip and his comrades so far recovered their
composure as to begin to turn their thoughts to the only consolation
that was now left to them, that of performing the solemn duties of
sepulture. They found the wreck of a fishing boat upon the strand, from
which they obtained wood enough for a rude funeral pile. They burned
what remained of the mutilated body, and, gathering up the ashes, they
put them in an urn and sent them to Cornelia, who afterward buried them
at Alba with many bitter tears.
[Illustration: Death of Pompey]
CHAPTER IX.
CAESAR IN EGYPT.
[Sidenote: Caesar after the battle of Pharsalia.]
Caesar surveyed the field of battle after the victory of Pharsalia, not
with the feelings of exultation which might have been expected in a
victorious general, but with compassion and sorrow for the fallen
soldiers whose dead bodies covered the ground. After gazing upon the
scene sadly and in silence for a time, he said, "They would have it so,"
and thus dismissed from his mind all sense of his own responsibility for
the consequences which had ensued.
[Sidenote: His clemency.]
[Sidenote: Caesar pursues Pompey.]
He treated the immense body of prisoners which had fallen into his hands
with great clemency, partly from the natural impulses of his
disposition, which were always generous and noble, and partly from
policy, that he might conciliate them all, officers and soldiers, to
acquiescence in his future rule. He then sent back a large portion of
his force to Italy, and, taking a body of cavalry from the rest, in
order that he might advance with the utmost possible rapidity, he set
off through Thessaly and Macedon in pursuit of his fugitive foe.
[Sidenote: Treasures of the Temple of Diana.]
He had no naval force at his command, and he accordingly kept upon the
land. Besides, he wished, by moving through the country at the head of
an armed force, to make a demonstration which should put down any
attempt that might be made in arty quarter to rally or concentrate a
force in Pompey's favor. He crossed the Hellespont, and moved down the
coast of Asia Minor. There was a great temple consecrated to Diana at
Ephesus, which, for its wealth and magnificence, was then the wonder of
the world. The authorities who had it in their charge, not aware of
Caesar's approach, had concluded to withdraw the treasures from the
temple and loan them to Pompey, to be repaid when he should have
regained his Dower. An assembly was accordingly convened to witness the
delivery of the treasures, and take note of their value, which ceremony
was to be performed with great formality and parade, when they learned
that Caesar had crossed the Hellespont and was drawing near. The whole
proceeding was thus arrested, and the treasures were retained.
[Sidenote: Caesar in Asia Minor.]
[Sidenote: He sails for Egypt.]
Caesar passed rapidly on through Asia Minor, examining and comparing,
as he advanced, the vague rumors which were continually coming in in
respect to Pompey's movements. He learned at length that he had gone to
Cyprus; he presumed that his destination was Egypt, and he immediately
resolved to provide himself with a fleet, and follow him thither by sea.
As time passed on, and the news of Pompey's defeat and flight, and of
Caesar's triumphant pursuit of him, became generally extended and
confirmed, the various powers ruling in all that region of the world
abandoned one after another the hopeless cause, and began to adhere to
Caesar. They offered him such resources and aid as he might desire. He
did not, however, stop to organize a large fleet or to collect an army.
He depended, like Napoleon, in all the great movements of his life, not
on grandeur of preparation, but on celerity of action. He organized at
Rhodes a small but very efficient fleet of ten galleys, and, embarking
his best troops in them, he made sail for the coasts of Egypt. Pompey
had landed at Pelusium, on the eastern frontier, having heard that the
young king and his court were there to meet and resist Cleopatra's
invasion. Caesar, however, with the characteristic boldness and energy
of his character, proceeded directly to Alexandria, the capital.
[Sidenote: Caesar at Alexandria.]
Egypt was, in those days, an _ally_ of the Romans, as the phrase was;
that is, the country, though it preserved its independent organization
and its forms of royalty, was still united to the Roman people by an
intimate league, so as to form an integral part of the great empire.
Caesar, consequently, in appearing there with an armed force, would
naturally be received as a friend. He found only the garrison which
Ptolemy's government had left in charge of the city. At first the
officers of this garrison gave him an outwardly friendly reception, but
they soon began to take offense at the air of authority and command
which he assumed, and which seemed to them to indicate a spirit of
encroachment on the sovereignty of their own king.
[Sidenote: The Roman fasces.]
[Sidenote: The lictors.]
Feelings of deeply-seated alienation and animosity sometimes find their
outward expression in contests about things intrinsically of very little
importance. It was so in this case. The Roman consuls were accustomed to
use a certain badge of authority called the _fasces_. It consisted of a
bundle of rods, bound around the handle of an ax. Whenever a consul
appeared in public, he was preceded by two officers called _lictors_,
each of whom carried the fasces as a symbol of the power which was
vested in the distinguished personage who followed them.
The Egyptian officers and the people of the city quarreled with Caesar
on account of his moving about among them in his imperial state,
accompanied by a life guard, and preceded by the lictors. Contests
occurred between his troops and those of the garrison, and many
disturbances were created in the streets of the city. Although no
serious collision took place, Caesar thought it prudent to strengthen
his force, and he sent back to Europe for additional legions to come to
Egypt and join him.
[Sidenote: Pompey's head sent to Caesar.]
[Sidenote: Caesar mourns Pompey.]
The tidings of Pompey's death came to Caesar at Alexandria, and with
them the head of the murdered man, which was sent by the government of
Ptolemy, they supposing that it would be an acceptable gift to Caesar.
Instead of being pleased with it, Caesar turned from the shocking
spectacle in horror. Pompey had been, for many years now gone by,
Caesar's colleague and friend. He had been his son-in-law, and thus had
sustained to him a very near and endearing relation. In the contest
which had at last unfortunately arisen, Pompey had done no wrong either
to Caesar or to the government at Rome. He was the injured party, so far
as there was a right and a wrong to such a quarrel. And now, after being
hunted through half the world by his triumphant enemy, he had been
treacherously murdered by men pretending to receive him as a friend. The
natural sense of justice, which formed originally so strong a trait in
Caesar's character, was not yet wholly extinguished. He could not but
feel some remorse at the thoughts of the long course of violence and
wrong which he had pursued against his old champion and friend, and
which had led at last to so dreadful an end. Instead of being pleased
with the horrid trophy which the Egyptians sent him, he mourned the
death of his great rival with sincere and unaffected grief, and was
filled with indignation against his murderers.
[Sidenote: Pompey's signet ring.]
[Sidenote: Caesar's respect for Pompey's memory.]
[Sidenote: Pompey's Pillar.]
[Sidenote: Origin of Pompey's Pillar.]
[Illustration: Pompey's Pillar.]
Pompey had a signet ring upon his finger at the time of his
assassination, which was taken off by the Egyptian officers and carried
away to Ptolemy, together with the other articles of value which had
been found upon his person. Ptolemy sent this seal to Caesar to complete
the proof that its possessor was no more. Caesar received _this_
memorial with eager though mournful pleasure, and he preserved it with
great care. And in many ways, during all the remainder of his life, he
manifested every outward indication of cherishing the highest respect
for Pompey's memory. There stands to the present day, among the ruins of
Alexandria, a beautiful column, about one hundred feet high, which has
been known in all modern times as POMPEY'S PILLAR. It is formed of
stone, and is in three parts. One stone forms the pedestal, another the
shaft, and a third the capital. The beauty of this column, the
perfection of its workmanship, which still continues in excellent
preservation, and its antiquity, so great that all distinct record of
its origin is lost, have combined to make it for many ages the wonder
and admiration of mankind. Although no history of its origin has come
down to us, a tradition has descended that Caesar built it during his
residence in Egypt, to commemorate the name of Pompey; but whether it
was his own victory over Pompey, or Pompey's own character and military
fame which the structure was intended to signalize to mankind, can not
now be known. There is even some doubt whether it was erected by
Caesar at all.
[Sidenote: Surrender of Pompey's officers.]
[Sidenote: Caesar's generosity.]
While Caesar was in Alexandria, many of Pompey's officers, now that
their master was dead, and there was no longer any possibility of their
rallying again under his guidance and command, came in and surrendered
themselves to him. He received them with great kindness, and, instead of
visiting them with any penalties for having fought against him, he
honored the fidelity and bravery they had evinced in the service of
their own former master. Caesar had, in fact, shown the same generosity
to the soldiers of Pompey's army that he had taken prisoners at the
battle of Pharsalia. At the close of the battle, he issued orders that
each one of his soldiers should have permission to _save_ one of the
enemy. Nothing could more strikingly exemplify both the generosity and
the tact that marked the great conqueror's character than this incident.
The hatred and revenge which had animated his victorious soldiery in the
battle and in the pursuit, were changed immediately by the permission to
compassion and good will. The ferocious soldiers turned at once from the
pleasure of hunting their discomfited enemies to death, to that of
protecting and defending them; and the way was prepared for their being
received into his service, and incorporated with the rest of his army as
friends and brothers.
[Sidenote: His position at Alexandria.]
[Sidenote: Caesar's interference in Egyptian affairs.]
Caesar soon found himself in so strong a position at Alexandria, that he
determined to exercise his authority as Roman consul to settle the
dispute in respect to the succession of the Egyptian crown. There was no
difficulty in finding pretexts for interfering in the affairs of Egypt.
In the first place, there was, as he contended, great anarchy and
confusion at Alexandria, people taking different sides in the
controversy with such fierceness as to render it impossible that good
government and public order should be restored until this great question
was settled. He also claimed a debt due from the Egyptian government,
which Photinus, Ptolemy's minister at Alexandria, was very dilatory in
paying. This led to animosities and disputes; and, finally, Caesar
found, or pretended to find, evidence that Photinus was forming plots
against his life. At length Caesar determined on taking decided action.
He sent orders both to Ptolemy and to Cleopatra to disband their forces,
to repair to Alexandria, and lay their respective claims before him for
his adjudication.
[Sidenote: Cleopatra.]
Cleopatra complied with this summons, and returned to Egypt with a view
to submitting her case to Caesar's arbitration. Ptolemy determined to
resist. He advanced toward Egypt, but it was at the head of his army,
and with a determination to drive Caesar and all his Roman
followers away.
[Sidenote: Caesar's guilty passion for Cleopatra.]
When Cleopatra arrived, she found that the avenues of approach to
Caesar's quarters were all in possession of her enemies, so that, in
attempting to join him, she incurred danger of falling into their hands
as a prisoner. She resorted to a stratagem, as the story is, to gain a
secret admission. They rolled her up in a sort of bale of bedding or
carpeting, and she was carried in in this way on the back of a man,
through the guards, who might otherwise have intercepted her. Caesar was
very much pleased with this device, and with the successful result of
it. Cleopatra, too, was young and beautiful, and Caesar immediately
conceived a strong but guilty attachment to her, which she readily
returned. Caesar espoused her cause, and decided that she and Ptolemy
should jointly occupy the throne.
[Sidenote: Resistance of Ptolemy.]
[Sidenote: The Alexandrine war.]
Ptolemy and his partisans were determined not to submit to this award.
The consequence was, a violent and protracted war. Ptolemy was not only
incensed at being deprived of what he considered his just right to the
realm, he was also half distracted at the thought of his sister's
disgraceful connection with Caesar. His excitement and distress, and the
exertions and efforts to which they aroused him, awakened a strong
sympathy in his cause among the people, and Caesar found himself
involved in a very serious contest, in which his own life was brought
repeatedly into the most imminent danger, and which seriously threatened
the total destruction of his power. He, however, braved all the
difficulty and dangers, and recklessly persisted in the course he had
taken, under the influence of the infatuation in which his attachment to
Cleopatra held him, as by a spell.
[Sidenote: The Pharos.]
[Sidenote: Great splendor of the Pharos.]
The war in which Caesar was thus involved by his efforts to give
Cleopatra a seat with her brother on the Egyptian throne, is called in
history the Alexandrine war. It was marked by many strange and romantic
incidents. There was a light-house, called the Pharos, on a small island
opposite the harbor of Alexandria, and it was so famed, both on account
of the great magnificence of the edifice itself, and also on account of
its position at the entrance to the greatest commercial port in the
world, that it has given its name, as a generic appellation, to all
other structures of the kind--any light-house being now called a Pharos,
just as any serious difficulty is called a Gordian knot. The Pharos was
a lofty tower--the accounts say that it was five hundred feet in height,
which would be an enormous elevation for such a structure--and in a
lantern at the top a brilliant light was kept constantly burning, which
could be seen over the water for a hundred miles. The tower was built in
several successive stories, each being ornamented with balustrades,
galleries, and columns, so that the splendor of the architecture by day
rivaled the brilliancy of the radiation which beamed from the summit by
night. Far and wide over the stormy waters of the Mediterranean this
meteor glowed, inviting and guiding the mariners in; and both its
welcome and its guidance were doubly prized in those ancient days, when
there was neither compass nor sextant on which they could rely. In the
course of the contest with the Egyptians, Caesar took possession of the
Pharos, and of the island on which it stood; and as the Pharos was then
regarded as one of the seven wonders of the world, the fame of the
exploit, though it was probably nothing remarkable in a military point
of view, spread rapidly throughout the world.
[Sidenote: It is captured by Caesar.]
And yet, though the capture of a light-house was no very extraordinary
conquest, in the course of the contests on the harbor which were
connected with it Caesar had a very narrow escape from death. In all
such struggles he was accustomed always to take personally his full
share of the exposure and the danger. This resulted in part from the
natural impetuosity and ardor of his character, which were always
aroused to double intensity of action by the excitement of battle, and
partly from the ideas of the military duty of a commander which
prevailed in those days. There was besides, in this case, an additional
inducement to acquire the glory of extraordinary exploits, in Caesar's
desire to be the object of Cleopatra's admiration, who watched all his
movements, and who was doubly pleased with his prowess and bravery,
since she saw that they were exercised for her sake and in her cause.
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