These were Caesar's designs, so far as could
have been gathered from his earlier actions; but the manipulation of
elections, the miserable contests with disaffected colleagues and a
hostile Senate, were dreary occupations for such a man as he was. He was
conscious of powers which in so poor a sphere could find no expression. He
had ambition doubtless--plenty of it--ambition not to pass away without
leaving his mark on the history of his country. As a statesman he had done
the most which could be done when he was consul the first time, and he had
afterward sought a free field for his adventurous genius in a new country,
and in rounding off into security the frontiers of the 'Empire on the side
where danger was most threatening. The proudest self-confidence could not
have allowed him at his time of life to calculate on returning to Rome to
take up again the work of reformation.
But Cesar had conquered. He had made a name for himself as a soldier
before which the Scipios and the Luculluses, the Syllas and Pompeys paled
their glory. He was coming back to lay at his country's feet a province
larger than Spain--not subdued only, but reconciled to subjugation; a
nation of warriors, as much devoted to him as his own legions. The
aristocracy had watched his progress with the bitterest malignity. When he
was struggling with the last spasms of Gallic liberty, they had talked in
delighted whispers of his reported ruin.
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