The Roman Republic had conquered the civilized world; it had thrown down kings; it had destroyed the political existence of nations.

What but feebleness, corruption, decay, anarchy, disintegration, disruption, recurring barbarism, had the oligarchs, for whom Pompeius was fighting his battle, to put in the place of what the Republic had destroyed?
Could a Senate where almost every man had his price, where almost every member looked on the provinces as a mere feeding ground for personal enrichment--could such a body govern the world?
Were not German and Gaul ready to pluck this unsound organism called the Republic limb from limb, and where was the reviving, regenerating force that was to hold them back with an iron hand until a force greater than that of the sword was ready to carry its evangel unto all nations, Jew, Greek, Roman, barbarian,--bond and free?
These were the questions asked and answered on that ninth day of August, forty-nine years, before the birth of a mightier than Pompeius Magnus or Julius Caesar.

And because men fought and agonized and died on those plains by Pharsalus, the edict could go from Rome that all the world should be taxed, and a naturalized Roman citizen could scorn the howls of the provincial mobs, could mock at Sanhedrins seeking his blood, and cry: _"Civis Romanus sum.

Caesarem appello!"_ How long did the battle last?
Drusus did not know.

No one knew.