Houses of turf had been built for
the luxurious patricians, with ivy trained over the entrances to shade
their delicate faces from the summer sun; couches had been laid out for
them to repose on after their expected victory; tables were spread with
plate and wines, and the daintiest preparations of Roman cookery. Caesar
commented on the scene with mournful irony. "And these men," he said,
"accused my patient, suffering army, which had not even common
necessaries, of dissoluteness and profligacy!"
Two hundred only of Caesar's men had fallen. The officers had suffered
most. The gallant Crastinus, who had nobly fulfilled his promise, had been
killed, among many others, in opening a way for his comrades. The
Pompeians, after the first shock, had been cut down unresisting. Fifteen
thousand of them lay scattered dead about the ground. There were few
wounded in these battles. The short sword of the Romans seldom left its
work unfinished.
"They would have it so," Caesar is reported to have said, as he looked
sadly over the littered bodies in the familiar patrician dress.[6]
"After all that I had done for my country, I, Caius Caesar, should have
been condemned by them as a criminal if I had not appealed to my army."
[Sidenote: B.C. 48.]
But Caesar did not wait to indulge in reflections. His object was to stamp
the fire out on the spot, that it might never kindle again.
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