ched inward, they were invariably defeated. They
then changed their tactics and retired before him, laying waste the
country as they went. He crossed the Thames some little way to the
westward of where London now stands, received the submission of one
native tribe, and finally concluded a peace with the native leader
Cassivelaunus, who gave hostages and promised tribute. The general
result of ten years' fighting was to add a great province to the empire
at the cost of a horrible amount of bloodshed, of the lives, as some
say, of two millions of men, women, and children (for Caesar, though not
positively cruel, was absolutely careless of suffering), and to leave
the conqueror master of the Roman world. The coalition indeed was broken
up, for Crassus had perished in the East, carrying on a foolish and
unprovoked war with the Parthians, and Pompey had come to fear and hate
his remaining rival. But Caesar was now strong enough to do without
friends, and to crush enemies. The Senate vainly commanded him to
disperse his army by a certain day, on pain of being considered an enemy
of the country. He continued to advance till he came to the boundaries
of Italy, a little river, whose name, the Rubicon, was then made famous
forever, which separated Cisalpine Gaul from Umbria. To cross this was
practically to declare war, and even the resolute Caesar hesitated
awhile. He thought his course over by himself; he even consulted his
friends. He professed himself pained at the thought of the war of which
his act would be the beginning, and of how posterity would judge his
conduct. Then with the famous words, "The die is cast," he plunged into
the stream. Pompey fled from Rome and from Italy. Caesar did not waste
an hour in pursuing his success. First making Italy wholly his own, he
marched into Spain, which was Pompey's stronghold, and secured it.
Thence he returned to Rome, and from Rome again made his way into
Macedonia, where Pompey had collected his forces. The decisive battle
was fought at Pharsalia in Thessaly; for though the remnants of Pompey's
party held out, the issue of the war was never doubtful after that day.

Returning to Rome (for of his proceedings in Egypt and elsewhere there
is no need to speak), he used his victory with as much mercy as he had
shown energy in winning it. To Cicero he showed not only nothing of
malice, but the greatest courtesy and kindness. He had written to him
from Egypt, telling him that he was to k