his intrepid courage, the confidence with which he inspired his
soldiers, his brilliant successes (victory after victory), with the
enormous number of captives by which he and the State became
enriched,--all these things dazzled his countrymen, and gave him a fame
such as no general had ever earned before. He conquered a population of
warriors to be numbered by millions, with no aid from charts and maps,
exposed perpetually to treachery and false information. He had to please
and content an army a thousand miles from home, without supplies, except
such as were precarious,--living on the plainest food, and doomed to
infinite labors and drudgeries, besides attacking camps and assaulting
fortresses, and fighting pitched battles. Yet he won their love, their
respect, and their admiration,--and by an urbanity, a kindness, and a
careful protection of their interests, such as no general ever showed
before. He was a hero performing perpetual wonders, as chivalrous as the
knights of the Middle Ages. No wonder he was adored, like a Moses in the
wilderness, like a Napoleon in his early conquests.

This conquest of Gaul, during which he drove the Germans back to their
forests, and inaugurated a policy of conciliation and moderation which
made the Gauls the faithful allies of Rome, and their country its most
fertile and important province, furnishing able men both for the Senate
and the Army, was not only a great feat of genius, but a great
service--a transcendent service--to the State, which entitled Caesar to
a magnificent reward. Had it been cordially rendered to him, he might
have been contented with a sort of perpetual consulship, and with the
éclat of being the foremost man of the Empire. The people would have
given him anything in their power to give, for he was as much an idol to
them as Napoleon became to the Parisians after the conquest of Italy. He
had rendered services as brilliant as those of Scipio, of Marius, of
Sulla, or of Pompey. If he did not save Italy from being subsequently