For well did he, like every other marked foe of
Rome, know for what he was reserved, and no doubt he yielded himself in
the full expectation of that fate which many a man, as brave as he, had
escaped by self-destruction.
The day came at last. In July, B.C. 45, the victorious Caesar had
leisure to celebrate his victories in four grand triumphs, all in one
month, and that in honor of the conquest of Gaul came the first. The
triumphal gate of Rome was thrown wide open, every house was decked with
hangings of silk and tapestry, the household images of every family,
dressed with fresh flowers, were placed in their porches, those of the
gods stood on the steps of the temples, and in marched the procession,
the magistrates first in their robes of office, and then the trumpeters.
Next came the tokens of the victory--figures of the supposed gods of the
two great rivers, Rhine and Rhone, and even of the captive Ocean, made
in gold, were carried along, with pictures framed in citron wood,
showing the scenes of victory--the wild waste of the Cevennes, the steep
peaks of Auvergne, the mighty camp of Alesia; nay, there too would be
the white cliffs of Dover, and the struggle with the Britons on the
beach.
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