of the two Gauls with equal and, if possible, with superior power.  His tactics, like his position, were exactly those of Caesar during the Mithradatic war.  To balance the military power of a superior but still remote adversary by the obtaining of a similar command, Pompeius required in the first instance the official machinery of government.  A year and a half ago this had been absolutely at his disposal.  The regents then ruled the state both by the comitia, which absolutely obeyed them as the masters of the street, and by the senate, which was energetically overawed by Caesar; as representative of the coalition in Rome and as its acknowledged head, Pompeius would have doubtless obtained from the senate and from the burgesses any decree which he wished, even if it were against Caesar’s interest.  But by the awkward quarrel with Clodius, Pompeius had lost the command of the streets, and could not expect to carry a proposal in his favour in the popular assembly.  Things were not quite so unfavourable for him in the senate; but even there it was doubtful whether Pompeius after that long and fatal inaction still held the reins of the majority firmly enough in hand to procure such a decree as he needed.

The Republican Opposition among the Public

The position of the senate also, or rather of the nobility generally, had meanwhile undergone a change.  From the very fact of its complete abasement it drew fresh energy.  In the coalition of 694 various things had come to light, which were by no means as yet ripe for it.  The banishment of Cato and Cicero—­ which public opinion, however much the regents kept themselves in the background and even professed to lament it, referred with unerring tact to its real authors—­and the marriage-relationship formed between Caesar and Pompeius suggested to men’s minds with disagreeable clearness monarchical decrees of banishment and family alliances.  The larger public too, which stood more aloof from political events, observed the foundations of the future monarchy coming more and more distinctly into view.  From the moment when the public perceived that Caesar’s object was not a modification of the republican constitution, but that the question at stake was the existence or non-existence of the republic, many of the best men, who had hitherto reckoned themselves of the popular party and honoured in Caesar its head, must infallibly have passed over to the opposite side.  It was no longer in the saloons and the country houses of the governing nobilityalone that men talked of the “three dynasts,” of the “three-headed monster.”  The dense crowds of people listened to the consular orations of Caesar without a sound of acclamation or approval; not a hand stirred to applaud when the democratic consul entered the theatre.  But they hissed when one of the tools of the regents showed himself in public, and even staid men applauded when an actor utteredan anti-monarchic sentence or an allusion against Pompeius.  Nay, when Cicero was to be banished, a great number of burgesses—­ it is said twenty thousand—­mostly of the middle classes, put on mourning after the example of the senate.  “Nothing is now more popular,” it is said in a letter of this period, “than hatred of the popular party.”