ficiency which it afterwards attained, and though even now the Republicans would have found it difficult to hold Italy, they might have made a fight for it in the East with far better chances than when they tried the fortune of war six years later. At this eleventh hour the sole chance for the Republic was to place itself unreservedly in Pompey's hands, and to trust that the loyalty which he had shown at the end of the Mithridatic war would still be the guiding principle of his conduct.
This was the more to be hoped, because Pompey's subsequent defection from honour and duty had borne him bitter fruits. He had expected to use Cæsar as his instrument, and now his eyes were opened to the fact that Cæsar was fast becoming his master. Two years of splendid victories had half revealed to the world the supreme military genius. Cæsar's army was devoted, not to any party or principle, but solely to its incomparable chief. He had made himself a position independent of his confederate and could conquer and govern at will throughout his vast province, while a tribune or two in his pay at home served to secure his interests in the central government. Pompey meanwhile was sorely perplexed in his new position. He had little capacity and little inclination for guiding the turbulent politics of the capital. His main object now was to secure himself some military force and some base of operations independent of Cæsar. But here he was met by constant difficulties; he was checked alike by his own best feelings, and by the memory of his past defection. On the one hand the Optimates
