The Historians' History of the World 05

It is evident that this battle was mainly lost from want of command. But why did Pompey so quickly give it up for lost without any attempt to arrest the course of fate? We have no record from his headquarters which can throw light upon these facts, but it seems that the party of which he was the chief had grown too much for him; that a deep discontent and ill-humour took possession of him, and both the party and the cause for which he had sacrificed himself had become loathsome to him before the battle took place. This is the only explanation of his conduct at the battle. How could it be otherwise? His aim and object were quite opposed to those of the party to which he was chained, and he was so entirely in its power that even complete victory would have only benefited them, not him. Perhaps the shame of appearing before his own party drove him to this hasty flight; perhaps he was afraid of personal danger at the hands of his colleagues, for this Pompeian camp was torn with every passion. Suffice it to say he escaped, and this flight made the defeat dangerous, for his person was the rallying point for the resistance of his party.

He hastened to Larissa; then disguised, and with a few companions, he proceeded to the mouth of the Peneus, the celebrated Vale of Tempe, and from thence by ship to Amphipolis.

At Mytilene he took his wife Cornelia and his son Sextus on board, but he did not stop there, as the news of the disastrous battle and the unexpected consequence had spread all over Asia Minor. It did not seem advisable to attempt anything here. But he conceived the plan of putting himself at the head of his large fleet and joining the victorious land force in Africa. Choosing another course and another country, he might, perhaps, hope to be more independent. So he decided to turn to Egypt and start fresh undertakings, with this excellent position as a basis. But they were undertakings in which he had no real confidence, through having once been crossed by fortune.

Whilst the princes and powers of the East hastened to lay down their arms and cast themselves upon the mercy of the conqueror after the battle of Pharsalia, Pompey pursued the lonely course in which he met his fate.

From the coast of Asia Minor he sailed to Cyprus and from thence to the Egyptian shore after announcing his intended arrival to the king who was still a minor. The eunuch Pothinus persuaded Ptolemy, a thirteen year old boy, to secure as he thought, by a bloody deed, the favour of the victor whose support he would need against the claims of his sister, Cleopatra, who disputed his claim to the throne.

The ships of Pompey came in sight east of Pelusium by the Cassian Mountains. Egyptian troops were assembled on the shore, and in their midst stood the king. Then there pushed off from the shore a little boat, in which were Achillas, the commander-in-chief of the Egyptian army, and two Roman officers. One of them greeted the imperator and invited him to board the boat as the shallow water of the shore prevented a large ship being sent. His party was suspicious. But Pompey, deaf to their warning and adjurations, embarked in the boat with two companions. Before he left he was heard to repeat to Cornelia the lines of Sophocles:

“Who to the tyrant turns his step

Becomes his slave altho’ he went as a liberator.”

The boat approached the shore. “Do I see in thee one of the dangers of war?” said Pompey to one of the officers who bowed his head in silence, whereupon Pompey without further parley took a leaf in his hand and wrote a message to the king in the Greek language. The boat arrived, Pompey arose to disembark. At that moment he received a blow from behind and the two other men straightway fell upon him. Resistance was impossible. Pompey resigned himself to his fate without making a sound, he covered his face and fell dying to the ground. He was in the fifty-eighth year of his life and he died in the thirty-fifth of his career as a general. The body was left upon the beach, a prey to animals, but perhaps some faithful followers may have secretly saved it; the head, the witness of their scandalous deed, was taken off by the Egyptians.