PHARSALIUM, Pharsalus, or Pharsalos, (anc. geog.), a town of the Phthiotis, a district of Thessaly, near Pherae and Larissa, to which last place Pompey fled from the plains of Pharsalus; watered by the river Enipeus, which falls into the Apidanus, and both together into the Peneus. Be- tween Pharsalus and Enipeus, Pompey drew up his men at the fatal battle of Pharsalia.

In this battle, the advantage with respect to num- bers was greatly on the side of Pompey. That gen- eral himself was on the left with the two legions which Caesar had returned to him at the beginning of the war. Scipio, Pompey's father-in-law, was in the centre, with the legions he had brought from Syria, and the reinforcements sent by several kings and states of Asia. The Cilician legion, and some cohorts which had served in Spain, were in the right, under the command of Afranius. As Pompey's right wing was covered by the Enipeus, he strengthened the left with his slingers, archers, and the 7000 Roman horse, on whom chiefly his party founded their hopes of vic- tory. The whole army was drawn up in three lines, with very little spaces between them. In conformity to this disposition, Caesar's army was drawn up in the following order: The tenth legion, which had on all occasions signalized themselves above all the rest, was placed in the right wing, and the ninth in the left; but as the latter had been considerably weakened in the action at Dyrrhachium, the eighth legion was posted so near it as to be able to support and rein- force it upon occasion. The rest of Caesar's forces filled up the space between the two wings. Marc Antony commanded the left wing, Sylla the right, and Cnecius Domitius Calvinus the main body. As for Caesar, he posted himself in the right over-against Pompey, that he might have him always in his sight.

Thus was the whole plain covered, from Pharsalia to the Enipeus; with two armies, dressed and armed after the same manner, and bearing the same ensigns, the Roman eagles. Pompey observing how well the enemy kept their ranks, expecting quietly the signal of battle, and on the contrary how impatient and un- steady his own men were, running up and down in great disorder for want of experience, he began to be afraid lest his ranks should be broken upon the first onset; and therefore commanded the foot in the front to keep their ground, and quietly wait for the enemy. The two armies, though within reach of each other, kept a mournful silence; but at length the trumpets founded the charge, and Caesar's army advanced in good order to begin the attack, being encouraged by the example of one Caius Craftinus, a centurion, who at the head of 120 men threw himself upon the ene- my's first line with incredible fury. This he did to acquit himself of a promise he had solemnly made to Caesar, who, meeting him as he was going out of his tent in the morning, asked him, after some discourse, What his opinion was touching the event of the battle? To which he, stretching out his hand, replied aloud, Thine is the victory, Caesar; thou shalt gloriously conquer, and I myself this day will be the subject of thy praise either dead or alive. In pursuance of this promise he broke out of his rank as soon as the trumpet sounded; and, at the head of his company, ran in upon the enemy, and made a great slaughter of them. But while he was still pressing forward, forcing his way through the first line, one of Pompey's men ran him in at the mouth with such violence, that the point of his sword came out at the hind part of his neck. Upon his death Pompey's soldiers took courage, and with great bravery stood the enemy's onset. While the foot were thus sharply engaged in the centre, Pompey's horse in the left wing marched up confi- dently; and having first widened their ranks, with a design to surround Caesar's right wing, charged his cavalry, and forced them to give ground. Hereupon Caesar ordered his horse to retreat a little, and give way to the six cohorts, which he had posted in the rear as a body of reserve. These, upon a signal given, coming up, charged the enemy's horse with that resolution and good order which is peculiar to men who have spent all their lives in camps. They remembered their instructions, not striking at the legs or thighs of the enemy, but aiming only at their faces. This unexpected and new manner of fighting had the desired effect. For the young patricians, whom Ca- esar contemptuously calls the pretty young dancers, not being able to bear the thoughts of having their faces deformed with scars, turned their backs, and, covering their faces with their hands, fled in the utmost con- fusion, leaving the foot at the mercy of the enemy. Caesar's men did not pursue the fugitives; but charg- ing the foot of that wing, now naked and un- guarded, surrounded them, and cut most of them in pieces.

Pompey was so transported with rage, in seeing the flower of his forces thus put to flight or cut in pie- ces, that he left his army, and retired slowly towards his camp, looking more like a man distracted and be- side himself than one who by his exploits had ac- quired the name of the Great. When he had reached the camp, he retired to his tent without speaking a word to any; and continued there, like one distracted and out of his senses, till his whole army was defeated. Caesar no sooner saw himself master of the field than PHA

Charalisa, he marched to attack the enemy's entrenchments, that Pompey might not have time to recollect himself. When Pompey was informed that his rival was advancing to attack his entrenchments, he then first seemed to have recovered his senses, and cried out, "What, into my camp too! He said no more; but immediately laying aside the marks of his dignity, and putting on such a garment as might best favour his flight, he stole out at the decuman gate, and took the road to Larissa, which city had hitherto shown great attachment to him. In the mean time Caesar began the attack on the enemy's camp, which was vigorously defended by the cohorts Pompey had left to guard it; but they were at length forced to yield. Caesar was not a little surprised, when, after having forced the entrenchments, he found the enemy's tents and pavilions richly adorned with carpets and hangings, their couches strewed with flowers, their tables ready spread, and sideboards set out with abundance of plate, bowls, and glasses, and some of them even filled with wine. So great was the confidence of Pompey's party, that they made preparations beforehand for pleasures to be enjoyed after the victory, which they thought certain.

In Pompey's tent, Caesar found the box in which he kept his letters: but, with a moderation and magnanimity worthy of himself, he burnt them all, without reading one; saying, that he had rather be ignorant of crimes, than obliged to punish them.

The next day, when the dead were numbered, it appeared that Caesar had scarce lost 200 men; among whom was about 30 centurions, whom Caesar caused to be buried with great solemnity. He did particular honours to the body of Crassus, who had begun the battle; and ordered his ashes to be deposited in a tomb, which he erected to his memory. On Pompey's side, the number of the dead amounted to 15,000 according to some, and to 25,000 according to others. Caesar took 24,000 prisoners, eight eagles, and 180 ensigns.

an epic poem, composed by Lucan on the civil war between Pompey and Caesar, and particularly on the victory of the latter over the former, of which we have given an account in the preceding article. It is a poem universally acknowledged to have great beauties and great defects; but we are less capable of estimating its merit as a whole, that either time has deprived us of the last books, or its author has left it incomplete. "The subject of the Pharsalia (says an excellent critic) carries undoubtedly all the epic grandeur and dignity: neither does it want unity of object, viz. the triumph of Caesar over the Roman liberty. In the choice of that subject, he thinks, however, that the author was not happy. The civil wars were too recent to admit in the description of them the embellishments of fiction and machinery. The fables of the gods mixed with the exploits of Caesar and Pompey, instead of raising, would have diminished, the dignity of such well known facts." Another objection to the subject, perhaps more forcible than this, arises from the success of the war and the abilities of the generals. Lucan was a friend to liberty, and wished to raise the character of Pompey and Cato; but in spite of his utmost efforts, they are always eclipsed by the superior talents and consequent success of Caesar. All his characters, however, are drawn with spirit, and with uncommon regard to truth; and some of the speeches which he puts into the mouths of his heroes are equal for moral sublimity to anything that is to be found in all antiquity.

"There are in the Pharsalia (continues the critic already quoted) several very poetical and spirited descriptions. But the author's chief strength does not lie either in narration or description. His narration is often dry and harsh; his descriptions are often overwrought, and employed too upon disagreeable objects. His principal merit consists in his sentiments, which are generally noble and striking, and expressed in that glowing and ardent manner which peculiarly distinguishes him. Lucan is the most philosophical and the most public-spirited poet of all antiquity. He was the nephew of the famous Seneca the philosopher; was himself a Stoic; and the spirit of that philosophy breathes throughout his poem. We must observe, too, that he is the only ancient epic poet whom the subject of his poem really and deeply interested. Lucan recounted no fiction. He was a Roman, and had felt all the direful effects of the Roman civil wars, and of that severe despotism which succeeded the loss of liberty. His high and bold spirit made him enter deeply into this subject, and kindle, on many occasions, into the most real warmth. Hence, he abounds in exclamations and apostrophes, which are almost always well timed, and supported with a vivacity and fire that do him no small honour.

"But it is the fate of this poet, that his beauties can never be mentioned, without their suggesting his blemishes also. As his principal excellency is a lively and glowing genius, which appears sometimes in his descriptions, and very often in his sentiments, his great defect in both is want of moderation. He carries everything to an extreme. He knows not where to stop. From an effort to aggravate his objects, he becomes timid and unnatural; and it frequently happens, that where the second line of one of his descriptions is sublime, the third, in which he meant to rise still higher, is perfectly bombast. Lucan lived in an age when the schools of the declaimers had begun to corrupt the eloquence and taste of Rome. He was not free from the infection; and too often, instead of showing the genius of the poet, betrays the spirit of the declaimer; but he is, on the whole, an author of lively and original genius."