ch the day produced. I can fancy that he was
possessed of intellect, and that when it was fair sailing with our
Consul it was all well with Quintus Cicero; but I can see also that,
when Caesar prevailed, it was occasionally a matter of doubt with Quintus
whether his brother should not be abandoned among other things which
were obtrusive and vain. He could not quite do it. His brother compelled
him into propriety, and carried him along within the lines of the
oligarchy. Then Caesar fell, and Quintus saw that the matter was right;
but Caesar, though he fell, did not altogether fall, and therefore
Quintus after all turned out to be in the wrong. I fancy that I can see
how things went ill with Quintus.

[Sidenote: B.C. 47, aetat. 60.]

Caesar, after the battle of the Pharsalia, had followed Pompey, but had
failed to catch him. When he came upon the scene in the roadstead at
Alexandria, the murder had been effected. He then disembarked, and
there, as circumstances turned out, was doomed to fight another campaign
in which he nearly lost his life. It is not a part of my plan to write
the life of Caesar, nor to meddle with it further than I am driven to do
in seeking after the sources of Cicero's troubles and aspiration; but
the story must be told in a few words. Caesar went from Alexandria into
Asia, and, flashing across Syria, beat Pharnaces, and then wrote his
famous "Veni, vidi, vici," if those words were ever written. Surely he
could not have written them and sent them home! Even the subservience of
the age would not have endured words so boastful, nor would the glory of
Caesar have so tarnished itself. He hurried back to Italy, and quelled
the mutiny of his men by a masterpiece of stage-acting. Simply by
addressing them as "Quirites," instead of "Milites," he appalled them
into obedience. On this journey into Italy he came across Cicero. If he
could be cruel without a pang--to the arranging the starvation of a
townful of women, because they as well as the men must eat--he could be
magnificent in his treatment of a Cicero. He had hunted to the death his
late colleague in the Triumvirate, and had felt no remorse; though
there seems to have been a moment when in Egypt the countenance of him
who had so long been his superior had touched him. He had not ordered
Pompey's death. On no occasion had he wilfully put to death a Roman
whose name was great enough to leave a mark behind. He had followed the
convictions of his countrym