hope of ultimate success or
even of escape. In 64, after vainly attempting to poison himself, such
was the power of the antidotes by which he had fortified himself against
domestic treachery (for so the story runs), he perished by the sword of
one of his mercenaries. For two years more Pompey was busied in settling
the affairs of the East. At last, in 61, he returned to Rome to enjoy a
third triumph, and that the most splendid which the city had ever
witnessed. It lasted for two days, but still the time was too short for
the display of the spoils of victory. The names of no less than fifteen
conquered nations were carried in procession. A thousand forts, nine
hundred cities, had been taken, and the chief of them were presented by
means of pictures to the eyes of the people. The revenue of the State
had been almost doubled by these conquests. Ninety thousand talents in
gold and silver coin were paid into the treasury, nor was this at the
expense of the soldiers, whose prize money was so large that the
smallest share amounted to fifty pounds. Never before was such a sight
seen in the world, and if Pompey had died when it was finished, he would
have been proclaimed the most fortunate of mankind.
[Footnote 6: The Pro Lege Manilia. The law was proposed by one Manilius,
a tribune of the people.]
Certainly he was never so great again as he was that day. When with
Caesar and Crassus he divided all the power of the State, he was only
the second, and by far the second, of the three. His influence, his
prestige, his popularity declined year by year. The good fortune which
had followed him without ceasing from his earliest years now seemed to
desert him. Even the shows, the most magnificent ever seen in the city,
with which he entertained the people at the dedication of his theater
(built at his own expense for the public benefit) were not wholly a
success. Here is a letter of Cicero about them to his friend Marius;
interesting as giving both a description of the scene and as an account
of the writer's own feelings about it. "If it was some bodily pain or
weakness of health that kept you from coming to the games, I must
attribute your absence to fortune rather than to a judicious choice. But
if you thought the things which most men admire contemptible, and so,
though health permitted, would not come, then I am doubly glad; glad
both that you were free from illness and that you were so vigorous in
mind as to despise the sights w
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