FLIGHT AND DEATH OF POMPEY.
[Sidenote: Pursuit of the vanquished.]
[Sidenote: Pompey recovers himself.]
Caesar pursued the discomfited and flying bodies of Pompey's army to the
camp. They made a brief stand upon the ramparts and at the gates in a
vain and fruitless struggle against the tide of victory which they soon
perceived must fully overwhelm them. They gave way continually here and
there along the lines of intrenchment, and column after column of
Caesar's followers broke through into the camp. Pompey, hearing from his
tent the increasing noise and uproar, was at length aroused from his
stupor, and began to summon his faculties to the question what he was to
do. At length a party of fugitives, hotly pursued by some of Caesar's
soldiers, broke into his tent. "What!" said Pompey, "into my tent too!"
He had been for more than thirty years a victorious general, accustomed
to all the deference and respect which boundless wealth, extended and
absolute power, and the highest military rank could afford. In the
encampments which he had made, and in the cities which he had occupied
from time to time, he had been the supreme and unquestioned master, and
his tent, arranged and furnished, as it had always been, in a style of
the utmost magnificence and splendor, had been sacred from all
intrusion, and invested with such a dignity that potentates and princes
were impressed when they entered, with a feeling of deference and awe.
Now, rude soldiers burst wildly into it, and the air without was filled
with an uproar and confusion, drawing every moment nearer and nearer,
and warning the fallen hero that there was no longer any protection
there against the approaching torrent which was coming on to
overwhelm him.
[Sidenote: Pompey disguises himself.]
[Sidenote: He escapes from the camp.]
Pompey aroused himself from his stupor, threw off the military dress
which belonged to his rank and station, and assumed a hasty disguise, in
which he hoped he might make his escape from the immediate scene of his
calamities. He mounted a horse and rode out of the camp at the easiest
place of egress in the rear, in company with bodies of troops and guards
who were also flying in confusion, while Caesar and his forces on the
other side were carrying the intrenchments and forcing their way in. As
soon is he had thus made his escape from the immediate scene of danger,
he dismounted and left his horse, that he might assume more completely
the appearance of a common soldier, and, with a few attendants who were
willing to follow his fallen fortunes, he went on to the eastward,
directing his weary steps toward the shores of the Aegean Sea.
[Sidenote: The Vale of Tempe.]
[Sidenote: Its picturesqueness.]
[Sidenote: Pompey's sufferings.]
[Sidenote: A drink of water.]
The country through which he was traveling was Thessaly. Thessaly is a
vast amphitheater, surrounded by mountains, from whose sides streams
descend, which, after watering many fertile valleys and plains, combine
to form one great central river that flows to the eastward, and after
various meanderings, finds its way into the Aegean Sea through a
romantic gap between two mountains, called the Vale of Tempe--a vale
which has been famed in all ages for the extreme picturesqueness of its
scenery, and in which, in those days, all the charms both of the most
alluring beauty and of the sublimest grandeur seemed to be combined.
Pompey followed the roads leading along the banks of this stream, weary
in body, and harassed and disconsolate in mind. The news which came to
him from time to time, by the flying parties which were moving through
the country in all directions, of the entire and overwhelming
completeness of Caesar's victory, extinguished all remains of hope, and
narrowed down at last the grounds of his solicitude to the single point
of his own personal safety. He was well aware that he should be pursued,
and, to baffle the efforts which he knew that his enemies would make to
follow his track, he avoided large towns, and pressed forward in by-ways
and solitudes, bearing as patiently as he was able his increasing
destitution and distress. He reached, at length, the Vale of Tempe, and
there, exhausted with hunger, thirst, and fatigue, he sat down upon the
bank of the stream to recover by a little rest strength enough for the
remainder of his weary way. He wished for a drink, but he had nothing to
drink from. And so the mighty potentate, whose tent was full of
delicious beverages, and cups and goblets of silver and gold, extended
himself down upon the sand at the margin of the river, and drank the
warm water directly from the stream.
[Sidenote: Caesar in Pompey's camp.]
While Pompey was thus anxiously and toilsomely endeavoring to gain the
sea-shore, Caesar was completing his victory over the army which he had
left behind him. When Caesar had carried the intrenchments of the camp,
and the army found that there was no longer any safety for them there,
they continued their retreat under the guidance of such generals as
remained. Caesar thus gained undisputed possession of the camp. He found
every where the marks of wealth and luxury, and indications of the
confident expectation of victory which the discomfited army had
entertained. The tents of the generals were crowned with myrtle, the
beds were strewed with flowers, and tables every where were spread for
feasts, with cups and bowls of wine all ready for the expected revelers.
Caesar took possession of the whole, stationed a proper guard to protect
the property, and then pressed forward with his army in pursuit of
the enemy.
[Sidenote: Retreat of Pompey's army.]
[Sidenote: Surrender of Pompey's army.]
Pompey's army made their way to a neighboring rising ground, where they
threw up hasty intrenchments to protect themselves for the night. A
rivulet ran near the hill, the access to which they endeavored to
secure, in order to obtain supplies of water. Caesar and his forces
followed them to this spot. The day was gone, and it was too late to
attack them. Caesar's soldiers, too, were exhausted with the intense and
protracted excitement and exertions which had now been kept up for many
hours in the battle and in the pursuit, and they needed repose. They
made, however, one effort more. They seized the avenue of approach to
the rivulet, and threw up a temporary intrenchment to secure it which
intrenchment they protected with a guard; and then the army retired to
rest, leaving their helpless victims to while away the hours of the
night, tormented with thirst, and overwhelmed with anxiety and despair.
This could not long be endured. They surrendered in the morning, and
Caesar found himself in possession of over twenty thousand prisoners.
[Sidenote: Pompey in the Vale of Tempe.]
In the mean time, Pompey passed on through the Vale of Tempe toward the
sea, regardless of the beauty and splendor that surrounded him, and
thinking only of his fallen fortunes, and revolving despairingly in his
mind the various forms in which the final consummation of his ruin might
ultimately come. At length he reached the sea-shore, and found refuge
for the night in a fisherman's cabin. A small number of attendants
remained with him, some of whom were slaves. These he now dismissed,
directing them to return and surrender themselves to Caesar, saying that
he was a generous foe, and that they had nothing to fear from him. His
other attendants he retained, and he made arrangements for a boat to
take him the next day along the coast. It was a river boat, and
unsuited to the open sea, but it was all that he could obtain.
[Sidenote: Pompey embarks on board a vessel.]
[Sidenote: The shipmaster's dream.]
He arose the next morning at break of day, and embarked in the little
vessel, with two or three attendants, and the oarsmen began to row away
along the shore. They soon came in sight of a merchant ship just ready
to sail. The master of this vessel, it happened, had seen Pompey, and
knew his countenance, and he had dreamed, as a famous historian of the
times relates, on the night before, that Pompey had come to him hi the
guise of a simple soldier and in great distress, and that he had
received and rescued him. There was nothing extraordinary in such a
dream at such a time, as the contest between Caesar and Pompey, and the
approach of the final collision which was to destroy one or the other of
them, filled the minds and occupied the conversation of the world. The
shipmaster, therefore, having seen and known one of the great rivals in
the approaching conflict, would naturally find both his waking and
sleeping thoughts dwelling on the subject; and his fancy, in his dreams,
might easily picture the scene of his rescuing and saving the fallen
hero in the hour of his distress.
[Sidenote: Pompey goes on board a merchant ship.]
However this may be, the shipmaster is said to have been relating his
dream to the seamen on the deck of his vessel when the boat which was
conveying Pompey came into view. Pompey himself, having escaped from the
land, supposed all immediate danger over, not imagining that seafaring
men would recognize him in such a situation and in such a disguise. The
shipmaster did, however, recognize him. He was overwhelmed with grief at
seeing him in such a condition. With a countenance and with gestures
expressive of earnest surprise and sorrow, he beckoned to Pompey to come
on board. He ordered his own ship's boat to be immediately let down to
meet and receive him. Pompey came on board. The ship was given up to his
possession, and every possible arrangement was made to supply his wants,
to contribute to his comfort, and to do him honor.
[Sidenote: His arrival at Amphipolis.]
The vessel conveyed him to Amphipolis, a city of Macedonia near the sea,
and to the northward and eastward of the place where he had embarked.
When Pompey arrived at the port he sent proclamations to the shore,
calling upon the inhabitants to take arms and join his standard. He did
not, however, land, or take any other measures for carrying these
arrangements into effect. He only waited in the river upon which
Amphipolis stands long enough to receive a supply of money from some of
his friends on the shore, and stores for his voyage, and then get sail
again. Whether he learned that Caesar was advancing in that direction
with a force too strong for him to encounter, or found that the people
were disinclined to espouse his cause, or whether the whole movement was
a feint to direct Caesar's attention to Macedon as the field of his
operations, in order that he might escape more secretly and safely
beyond the sea, can not now be ascertained.
[Sidenote: Pompey's wife Cornelia.]
[Sidenote: Her beauty and accomplishments.]
Pompey's wife Cornelia was on the island of Lesbos, at Mitylene, near
the western coast of Asia Minor. She was a lady of distinguished beauty,
and of great intellectual superiority and moral worth. She was extremely
well versed in all the learning of the times, and yet was entirely free
from those peculiarities and airs which, as her historian says, were
often observed in learned ladies in those days. Pompey had married her
after the death of Julia, Caesar's daughter. They were strongly devoted
to each other. Pompey had provided for her a beautiful retreat on the
island of Lesbos, where she was living in elegance and splendor,
beloved for her own intrinsic charms, and highly honored on account of
the greatness and fame of her husband. Here she had received from time
to time glowing accounts of his success all exaggerated as they came to
her, through the eager desire of the narrators to give her pleasure.
[Sidenote: Pompey's arrival at Mitylene.]
[Sidenote: His meeting with Cornelia.]
From this high elevation of honor and happiness the ill-fated Cornelia
suddenly fell, on the arrival of Pompey's solitary vessel at Mitylene,
bringing as it did, at the same time, both the first intelligence of her
husband's fall, and himself in person, a ruined and homeless fugitive
and wanderer. The meeting was sad and sorrowful. Cornelia was
overwhelmed at the suddenness and violence of the shock which it brought
her, and Pompey lamented anew the dreadful disaster that he had
sustained, at finding how inevitably it must involve his beloved wife as
well as himself in its irreparable ruin.
[Sidenote: Pompey gathers a little fleet.]
The pain, however, was not wholly without some mingling of pleasure. A
husband finds a strange sense of protection and safety in the presence
and sympathy of an affectionate wife in the hour of his calamity. She
can, perhaps do nothing, but her mute and sorrowful concern and pity
comfort and reassure him. Cornelia, however, was able to render her
husband some essential aid. She resolved immediately to accompany him
wherever he should go; and, by their joint endeavors, a little fleet was
gathered, and such supplies as could be hastily obtained, and such
attendants and followers as were willing to share his fate, were taken
on board. During all this time Pompey would not go on shore himself, but
remained on board, his ship in the harbor. Perhaps he was afraid of some
treachery or surprise, or perhaps, in his fallen and hopeless condition,
he was unwilling to expose himself to the gaze of those who had so often
seen him in all the splendor of his former power.
[Sidenote: He sails along the Mediterranean.]
[Sidenote: Pompey receives additional supplies.]
At length, when all was ready, he sailed away. He passed eastward along
the Mediterranean, touching at such ports as he supposed most likely to
favor his cause. Vague and uncertain, but still alarming rumors that
Caesar was advancing in pursuit of him met him every where, and the
people of the various provinces were taking sides, some in his favor and
some against him, the excitement being every where so great that the
utmost caution and circumspection were required in all his movements.
Sometimes he was refused permission to land; at others, his friends
were too few to afford him protection; and at others still, though the
authorities professed friendship, he did not dare to trust them. He
obtained, however, some supplies of money and some accessions to the
number of ships and men under his command, until at length he had quite
a little fleet in his train. Several men of rank and influence, who had
served under him in the days of his prosperity, nobly adhered to him
now, and formed a sort of court or council on board his galley, where
they held with their great though fallen commander frequent
conversations on the plan which it was best to pursue.
[Sidenote: He seeks refuge in Egypt.]
[Sidenote: Ptolemy and Cleopatra.]
It was finally decided that it was best to seek refuge in Egypt. There
seemed to be, in fact, no alternative. All the rest of the world was
evidently going over to Caesar. Pompey had been the means, some years
before, of restoring a certain king of Egypt to his throne, and many of
his soldiers had been left in the country, and remained there still. It
is true that the king himself had died. He had left a daughter named
Cleopatra, and also a son, who was at this time very young. The name of
this youthful prince was Ptolemy. Ptolemy and Cleopatra bad been made by
their father joint heirs to the throne. But Ptolemy, or, rather, the
ministers and counselors who acted for him and in his name, had expelled
Cleopatra, that they might govern alone. Cleopatra had raised an army in
Syria, and was on her way to the frontiers of Egypt to regain possession
of what she deemed her rights. Ptolemy's ministers had gone forth to
meet her at the head of their own troops, 'Ptolemy himself being also
with them. They had reached Pelusium, which is the frontier town between
Egypt and Syria on the coast of the Mediterranean. Here their armies had
assembled in vast encampments upon the land, and their galleys and
transports were riding at anchor along the shore of the sea. Pompey and
his-counselors thought that the government of Ptolemy would receive him
as a friend, on account of the services he had rendered to the young
prince's father, forgetting that gratitude has never a place on the list
of political virtues.
[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]