“Be yourself, Magnus,” expostulated the consul at his side; “remember that for the good of the Republic every personal affection is to be put away.  Recall Brutus, who put his own sons to death because they committed treason.  Remember what Scipio AEmilianus said when he learned that Tiberius Gracchus, his dear brother-in-law, had been put to death for sedition.  He quoted Homer’s line:—­

  “‘So perish all who do the like again!’”

“And must I trample down every tie, every affection?” complained wretched Pompeius, who never ceased hoping against hope that something would avert the catastrophe.

“There is no tie, no affection, Magnus,” said Domitius, sternly, “that binds you to Caesar.  Cast his friendship from your breast as you would a viper.  Think only of being justly hailed with Romulus, Camillus, and Marius as the fourth founder of Rome.  Strike, and win immortal glory.”

And so to the last hour these confederates wrought upon their supple instrument, and bent him to their will; and their tool in turn had all else at his mercy.  Pompeius addressed the senators, and, well trained by his guardians, spoke with brutal frankness to those who had dared to advise moderation.

“You, Rufus,” he said, pointing a menacing finger, before which that senator cowered in dread, “have been advising the Republic to tolerate the chief of its enemies.  You bid me to disarm or withdraw from Italy, as though the lives and property of any good men would be safe the moment Caesar was left unopposed to pour his cohorts of barbarous Gauls and Germans into the country.  You, Calidius, have given the same untimely advice.  Beware lest you repent the hour when you counselled that I should disarm or quit the neighbourhood of Rome.”  The two-edged suggestion contained in this last warning was too marked for the reproved men not to turn pale with dread, and slink away trembling behind their associates.

“But,” continued Pompeius, “I have praise as well as blame; Marcus Cato has not deserted the Republic.  He has advised, and advised well, that the proconsul of the Gauls be stripped of his legions.”  It was Cato’s turn now to bite his lips with mortification, for in times past he had foretold that through Pompeius great miseries would come to the state, and in his praetorship had declared that Pompeius ought to go to his province, and not stay at home to stir up tumults and anarchy from which he could emerge as monarch.  And such praise from the Magnus’s lips, under the present circumstances, was gall and wormwood to his haughty soul.

“And,” continued Pompeius, “I shall not forget to applaud the energetic counsels of Domitius and Lentulus Crus.  Let those who wish to preserve life and property,” he added, with a menacing significance, “see to it that they do as these gentlemen advise.”