Caius Marius

Plutarch · a new plain-English translation from the original language

We cannot give a third name for Gaius Marius, any more than we can for Quintus Sertorius, who held Iberia, or for Lucius Mummius, who took Corinth — for that man's achievement gave him the surname Achaicus, just as Africanus was given to Scipio and Macedonicus to Metellus.

It is on this basis that Posidonius thinks he can refute those who believe the third name to be the proper one for Romans, such as Camillus, Marcellus, and Cato — for men called by only two names would, on this reasoning, be nameless. But he fails to notice that by the same argument he himself makes women nameless: for no woman is given the first of the names, which Posidonius supposes to be the proper name for Romans.

Of the other names, one is the shared clan-name, from kinship — as with the Pompeii, the Manlii, and the Cornelii, just as one might say Heraclidae or Pelopidae — while the other is a nickname given from some quality attached to a person's nature or deeds or bodily form or condition, as with Macrinus, Torquatus, and Sulla, or such names as Mnemon, Grypus, and Callinicus. On this last point the irregularity of custom offers many grounds for inquiry.

We have seen a stone likeness of the face of Marius set up in Ravenna in Gaul, thoroughly in keeping with the harshness and bitterness of character attributed to him. For being by nature manly and warlike, and having had more of a soldier's than a statesman's education, he kept his temper unchecked whenever he held power.

It is said that he neither learned Greek letters nor made use of the Greek tongue for any serious purpose, holding it ridiculous to learn a language whose teachers were slaves to others; and that after his second triumph, when providing Greek games in dedication of a certain temple, he came into the theater, sat down only for a moment, and left at once.

Just as Plato often used to say to the philosopher Xenocrates, whose character seemed rather too austere, "My dear Xenocrates, sacrifice to the Graces," so too, had anyone talked Marius into offering worship to the Muses and Graces of Greece, he would not have crowned his most brilliant generalships and public services with so hideous a finishing-stroke, running aground, under the force of temper and untimely love of power and insatiable greed, into the harshest and most savage old age. But let these matters be judged straightaway from the actions themselves.

Born of parents altogether without distinction — laborers and poor — his father bearing the same name, his mother named Fulcinia, he came to see a city only late in life and got his first taste of city pursuits then; the rest of the time he spent living in the village of Cirrhaeaton in the territory of Arpinum, a life rougher than the refined and polished sort, but temperate, and resembling the old nurture of the Romans.

In his first military service, fighting the Celtiberians during Scipio Africanus's siege of Numantia, he did not escape the general's notice, standing out among the other young men for courage and readily accepting the change in regimen which Scipio was imposing on troops corrupted by luxury and extravagance. It is also said that he engaged an enemy man in single combat and struck him down in the general's sight,

For which reason he was advanced by Scipio with various honors; and once, when a conversation arose after dinner about generals, and one of those present, whether in genuine perplexity or to please, asked Scipio what sort of leader and champion the Roman people would have after him, Scipio, as Marius reclined nearby, gently struck his shoulder with his hand and said, "Perhaps this one." So gifted was the one to appear great while still a youth, the other to perceive the end from the beginning.

It is said that Marius, most of all stirred by this utterance, as by a divine omen, was lifted up in his hopes and set out for a political career, and obtained the tribunate of the people through the eager support of Caecilius Metellus, whose household he had cultivated from the outset, following his father's example.

In his tribunate, when he proposed a certain law concerning voting that seemed to take away from the powerful their influence over trials, Cotta the consul opposed it and persuaded the senate to fight against the law and to summon Marius to give an account of himself. When this decree had been drafted and he came in, he did not behave as a young man might who had not yet come forward into public life with any distinction; rather, already crediting himself with as much confidence as his later actions would justify, he threatened to have Cotta led off to prison unless he rescinded the decree,

And when Cotta turned to Metellus and asked his opinion, Metellus rose and supported the consul; whereupon Marius summoned his officer from outside and ordered him to lead Metellus himself off to prison. When Metellus called on the other tribunes for help, no one came to his aid, and the senate, yielding, gave up the decree; and Marius, marching out in triumph to the people, got the law ratified, and won a reputation for being unbending before fear, unmoved by shame, and formidable in standing up against the senate for the favor of the popular leaders,

Nevertheless he quickly changed this reputation by another political act. For when a law was brought in concerning grain handouts to the populace, he fought it with great vigor and carried the day, thereby setting himself on an equal footing of esteem with both parties, as showing favor to neither side against the common good.

After his tribunate he was a candidate for the greater aedileship — since the office comes in two ranks, one named for the curved-legged curule chairs, on which the officeholders sit to transact business, the lower grade being called the plebeian aedileship. Once men have chosen the more honored office, they may then again seek a vote for the other.

So when Marius was plainly seen to be falling behind in that election, he quickly shifted and asked instead for the other. Being thought bold and presumptuous, he failed in that too; and though he suffered two defeats in a single day, a thing no one else had experienced, he did not lower his spirit even a little; and not long afterward, seeking the praetorship, he came close to losing that too, being declared elected last of all the candidates, and afterward faced a charge of bribery.

The greatest suspicion arose from a slave of Cassius Sabaco, who was seen inside the barriers mixed in among those carrying the ballots; for Sabaco was among Marius's closest friends. When summoned by the judges, he said that, being thirsty from the heat, he had asked for cold water, and that his slave, holding a cup, had come in to him, and then had left again at once after he drank.

This man was afterward expelled from the senate by the censors, being judged deserving of that fate either for perjury or for his lack of self-control. And a witness was brought in against Marius too, one Gaius Herennius, who said it was not ancestral custom to testify against one's clients — for so the Romans call their patrons — and that the men of the house of Herennius had, from the beginning, had Marius's parents and Marius himself as clients.

When the judges accepted this refusal to testify, Marius himself spoke against Herennius, saying that once he was declared a magistrate, his status as a client had ended — a claim not wholly accurate, since it is not every office that releases a man and his household from owing themselves a patron, but rather only that particular office for which the law reserves a curule seat of honor. Nevertheless, though he fared badly in the early days of the trial and found the judges hostile, on the last day he was unexpectedly acquitted, the votes coming out equal.

In his praetorship, then, he showed himself only moderately praised; but after his praetorship, having obtained by lot Further Iberia, he is said to have cleared the province of brigandage, it being still savage and beastlike in its customs, and brigandage not yet then considered by the Iberians as anything but honorable. On entering public life, he had neither wealth nor eloquence, the very things by which those most honored at that time led the people.

But by the very intensity of his spirit, his tirelessness in labor, and the plainness of his way of life, since these things were held in some regard by the citizens, he grew in honor toward power, so much so that he even made a splendid marriage into the illustrious house of the Caesars, marrying Julia, whose nephew was the Caesar who in later times became the greatest of the Romans, and who, out of family closeness, was in some measure an admirer of Marius, as is written in his own Life.

To Marius they attribute also self-control and endurance, of which the episode concerning the surgery is proof: for having both legs, it seems, filled with large varicose swellings, and being troubled by the disfigurement, he resolved to submit himself to the physician; and he offered one leg without being bound, without flinching or groaning, but with a steady face and in silence enduring extremes of pain during the incisions; but when the physician moved on to the other leg, he no longer offered it, saying that he saw the correction was not worth the pain.

When Caecilius Metellus, having been appointed consul-general for the war against Jugurtha, brought Marius with him to Libya as his lieutenant, there, having laid hold of great deeds and brilliant contests, Marius left off — unlike the rest — advancing Metellus's reputation and playing politics on his behalf; and, thinking that he had not been called as lieutenant by Metellus but had been brought by Fortune into the most favorable and greatest theater of action at once, he displayed every kind of manly excellence.

And although that war imposed many burdens, he shirked none of the heaviest tasks and looked down on none of the lightest, but outdid men of his own rank in sound judgment and a grasp of what would prove useful, all while matching the ordinary soldiers in plain living and hardiness, and by this he earned deep goodwill from them.

For in general it seems that for each man suffering hardship, the greatest comfort is a companion sharing the hardship willingly — for this seems to remove the sense of compulsion; and the most pleasing sight to a Roman soldier is a general eating common bread in his view, or lying on a cheap pallet, or lending a hand in some digging of a trench or building of a rampart. For they do not so much admire commanders who share honor and money as those who take a share of toil and danger, but love more those willing to labor alongside them than those who allow idleness.

By doing all this, and by winning over the soldiers through it, Marius quickly filled Libya, and quickly filled Rome, with his name and reputation, as those writing home from the camp said there was no end nor release from the war against the barbarian unless the people chose Gaius Marius as consul.

At this Metellus was plainly vexed. But what most distressed him was the affair concerning Turpillius. This man was a hereditary guest-friend of Metellus's family, and at that time, holding the post over the engineers, was serving with the army; and while garrisoning Vaga, a large city, and trusting, because he did no wrong to its inhabitants but treated them mildly and humanely, he was unaware that he had fallen into the hands of the enemy — for they had admitted Jugurtha, but did Turpillius no harm, and, having begged for his safety, let him go unharmed. He was therefore charged with treason:

and Marius, being present at the trial as an advisor, was himself harsh toward him and incited most of the others as well, so that Metellus was forced against his will to condemn the man to death. Shortly afterward, when the charge was shown to be false, the others grieved along with Metellus, who took it hard, but Marius, delighted and taking credit for the deed as though it were his own, felt no shame in telling people around that he had personally saddled Metellus with the avenging spirit of a slain guest-friend.

From this point on they were openly at odds; and it is said that once, in Marius's presence, Metellus said, as if mocking him, "So you, noble sir, mean to leave us and sail home to canvass for the consulship? Surely you would not be content to hold the consulship together with this son of mine?" — the son of Metellus being at that time altogether a mere boy.

Nevertheless, when Marius pressed to be released, Metellus, after making many delays, finally let him go, with only twelve days still remaining before the election of the consuls. He covered the long stretch from camp to the seaside at Utica within a single night and the two days framing it, then, before embarking, performed a sacrifice. And it is said that the seer told him that the god was foreshowing for him successes so great in magnitude, and beyond all expectation, as to be scarcely credible,

And lifted up by these words, he put out to sea. Crossing the strait in four days with a favorable wind, he was at once a longed-for sight to the people, and being brought forward by one of the tribunes before the assembly, amid many accusations against Metellus, he sought the office, promising either to kill Jugurtha or to take him alive,

Having been proclaimed consul with great splendor, he at once began levying troops, enrolling, contrary to law and custom, a great number of the poor and the base-born, though earlier commanders had not admitted such men, but, as though arms were some other kind of honor, bestowed them with distinction only on those judged worthy, each man's property standing as a kind of pledge.

Yet it was not chiefly this that brought Marius into disrepute, but his speeches, which, being bold, offended the leading men through their arrogance and insolence, as he shouted that he carried off the consulship as spoil taken from the softness of the well-born and the rich, and boasted to the people of wounds on his own body, not of monuments to dead men nor of other men's portraits.

Often, too, naming the generals who had failed in Libya — now Bestia, now Albinus — men of illustrious houses but who themselves had stumbled through misfortune and had failed through inexperience, he would ask his listeners whether, in their judgment, the forefathers of those very men would not have preferred praying for descendants such as himself, given that those forefathers themselves had won renown not from noble lineage but from virtue and noble deeds.

He said these things neither idly nor boastfully, nor because he wished vainly to make enemies of the powerful, but because the people, delighted that the Senate was being insulted and always measuring the greatness of a man's spirit by the boldness of his speech, kept lifting him up and urging him on not to spare the men of distinction, so as to gratify the many.

When he had crossed over into Libya, Metellus, overcome by envy and deeply grieved that, when he himself had brought the war to its conclusion and there remained nothing but to seize the person of Jugurtha, Marius should come to claim the crown and the triumph, grown great through his own ingratitude toward him, could not bear to meet him face to face, but withdrew himself, while Rutilius, having become Metellus's lieutenant, handed over the army to Marius.

And a kind of nemesis went round at the end of these affairs and overtook Marius; for the glory of his success was taken from him by Sulla, just as Metellus's had been taken from him by Marius. In what manner, I shall relate briefly, since the particulars are set down more fully in the Life of Sulla. Bocchus, king of the upper barbarians, was Jugurtha's father-in-law, and while Jugurtha was at war Bocchus did not seem at all inclined to assist him, alleging his untrustworthiness, and fearing his growing power;

but when Jugurtha, fleeing and wandering, was forced by necessity to make Bocchus his last hope and came to him, Bocchus received him more out of shame, as a suppliant, than out of goodwill, and kept him under his hand, openly interceding for him with Marius and writing that he would not surrender him, and speaking frankly on his behalf, but secretly plotting betrayal against him, and sending for Lucius Sulla, who was Marius's quaestor but had proved useful to Bocchus during the campaign.

When Sulla, trusting him, went up to him, some turn of mind and change of heart came over the barbarian, and for many days he wavered in his reckoning, deliberating whether to hand over Jugurtha or not to release Sulla; but in the end he confirmed his first act of betrayal and delivered Jugurtha alive into Sulla's hands.

And this was the first seed for them of that incurable and bitter discord which came within a little of overturning Rome. For many wished the deed to be Sulla's, out of envy of Marius, and Sulla himself, having had a seal made, wore it engraved with a device of Jugurtha being handed over to him by Bocchus.

And by continually using this seal he kept goading Marius, a man ambitious for honor and ungenerous about sharing glory and quarrelsome, especially since Marius's enemies were egging Sulla on, attributing the first and greatest part of the war to Metellus, and its last part and its conclusion to Sulla, so that the people might cease to admire and to attend upon Marius above all others.

Quickly, however, that envy and those hatreds and slanders were scattered and turned away from Marius by the danger that seized Italy from the west, at the very moment when the city, for the first time, found itself requiring a great commander and cast about to discover what helmsman at the tiller might steer it clear of so great a storm of war — no one of the great and wealthy houses venturing to come forward at the consular elections, but the people proclaiming Marius consul in his absence.

For scarcely had news of the capture of Jugurtha been announced to them when reports concerning the Teutones and the Cimbri came falling upon them, at first met with disbelief regarding how numerous and powerful the invading hosts were, but later proved to understate the truth. For the fighting men numbered thirty myriads marching under arms, and crowds of children and women, said to be far more numerous still, were reported to be moving along with them, in need of land to support so great a multitude, and of cities in which, once settled, they might live, just as they had learned that the Celts before them had seized the fairest part of Italy, taking it from the Etruscans.

For these people themselves, through their lack of contact with others and through the length of the country they traversed, were unknown — who they were among men, or from where they had set out, falling upon Gaul and Italy like a cloud. And they were guessed, above all, to be Germanic peoples of those dwelling by the northern ocean, judging by the great size of their bodies and the blue-grey brightness of their eyes, and because the Germans call brigands Cimbri.

There are some who say that Celtic territory, because of the depth and extent of the land, reaches from the outer sea and the northern regions round to the rising sun as far as the Maeotic lake, touching there upon Pontic Scythia, and that from there the races became mixed; and that these peoples, rising up not in a single rush nor continuously, but each year at a certain season advancing ever forward in war, over many periods of time overran the continent.

For this reason, though they bore many separate names in their several parts, the army as a whole was called Celtoscythian. Others say that the portion of the Cimmerians first known to the Greeks of old was not a great part of the whole, but that a flight or some faction, driven by force by the Scythians, crossed the Maeotic lake and passed into Asia, led by Lygdamis, while the greatest and most warlike part of them, dwelling at the farthest edge along the outer sea, occupied a land shaded and wooded and everywhere dim with sunlight because of the depth and thickness of its forests,

and that these people extend inward as far as the Hercynian forest, and that they have been allotted such a portion of the sky that, because of the inclination of the parallels, the pole seems to make a great rise, falling little short of the point standing directly overhead for their dwelling place, and that their days and nights, being of nearly equal brief and long duration, apportion the time between them equally; for which reason Homer, they say, drew his fund of myth for the Nekyia.

From there, then, came the inroad of these barbarians upon Italy, called at first Cimmerians, and then, not without reason, Cimbri. But these things are said more by conjecture than according to firm historical record.

But as to their numbers, it has been reported by many that they were not less, but more, than what has been said. In spirit and daring they were irresistible, and in the work of their hands in battle they came on resembling fire in swiftness and violence, no one being able to withstand their onset, but all whom they overran being led off and carried away reckoned as plunder, and many great Roman armies and generals, all those who were posted in Gaul beyond the Alps, being swept away ingloriously;

and it was above all those who had fought badly against their onrush who drew that onrush down upon Rome. For having conquered all whom they met, and having become masters of great wealth, they resolved to settle themselves nowhere on earth until they had overturned Rome and utterly sacked Italy.

When the Romans learned of this from many quarters, they summoned Marius to the generalship. And he was declared consul a second time, though the law forbade choosing again, in his absence, one who had not let the fixed interval of time elapse; but the people cast out those who spoke against it. For they believed that it was not now for the first time that the law would yield to expediency, nor was the present cause less reasonable than that for which they had once declared Scipio consul contrary to the laws, not fearing to lose their own city, but desiring to destroy that of the Carthaginians.

This was decided; and Marius, conveyed over from Libya together with his army, on the very Kalends of January, which the Romans reckon as the beginning of the year, took up the consulship and rode in his triumph, displaying to the Romans an unbelievable spectacle, Jugurtha a captive — a man while he lived not one of his enemies would have hoped to overcome, so versatile was he in dealing with fortune and had a spirit so passionate mixed with so much cunning.

But he lost his senses, they say, once he was paraded in the procession; and after the triumph, when he was thrown into the prison, some tore off his tunic by force, while others, hastening to snatch away his golden earring, tore off the earlobe along with it, and, thrust naked into the pit, bewildered and grinning, he said, "Heracles, how cold your bath is!"

But he, having struggled against hunger for six days and clung to the desire of life until the very last hour, received a punishment worthy of his crimes. In the triumph, it is said, seven thousand three hundred pounds of gold were carried, along with five thousand seven hundred seventy-five pounds of silver bullion, and two hundred eighty-seven thousand drachmas in minted coin.

After the procession Marius assembled the Senate in the Capitol; and he came in, whether forgetting himself or through a more rustic use of his fortune, still in his triumphal attire; but perceiving quickly that the Senate was displeased, he rose and went out, and, having changed into the purple-bordered toga, came in again.

While on campaign he built up the army's stamina during the march, drilling the men through every variety of running exercise and extended treks, forcing each soldier to bear his own pack and handle his own daily chores, so that later on, those who worked hard and carried out orders quietly, without grumbling, earned the nickname Marius's mules. Some, however, think there is a different reason for this saying.

For when Scipio, during the siege of Numantia, set out to review not merely the weapons and mounts but the pack-animals and wagons as well, so that everything might be found properly drilled and ready, Marius brought forward a horse reared most beautifully by himself, and a mule far surpassing all the others in good condition, gentleness, and strength; the general, delighted with Marius's animals and mentioning them often afterward, thus led those who jested to call, in praise, the persevering, patient, and hard-working man a "Marian mule."

It seems to have been a great stroke of fortune for Marius that, the barbarians having taken as it were a countercurrent of their onward drive and having flowed first toward Iberia, he had time both to train the bodies of his men and to strengthen their spirits toward confidence, and, what was greatest of all, to be understood for what sort of man he himself was.

For his grimness at the outset and his harshness in punishments, once the men had become accustomed neither to do wrong nor to disobey, appeared, together with his justice, to be for their preservation, and the vehemence of his temper and the roughness of his voice and the fierce look of his face, growing familiar over time little by little, they came to think were fearsome not to themselves, but to the enemy.

But it was above all the uprightness of his judgments that pleased the soldiers, of which the following instance is told. Gaius Lusius, his nephew, appointed to a command, was serving in the army — a man not, perhaps, thought to be wicked, but weaker than he should have been for handsome young men. He was in love with a young soldier serving under him named Trebonius, and having often made attempts upon him without success,

at last, sending a servant by night, he summoned Trebonius. The young man came, for he could not refuse when summoned, but on being brought into the tent, when Lusius attempted to force him, he drew his sword and killed him. This happened while Marius was away; once he came back, he had Trebonius brought before a tribunal,

Since many were accusing him and no one was speaking in his defense, Trebonius himself stood up boldly and told what had happened, and produced witnesses that he had many times refused Lusius when he made his advances, and that even though great sums were offered him he had not given up his body for any price. Marius, admiring this and delighted by it, ordered the ancestral crown for valor to be brought, and taking it himself he crowned Trebonius, declaring that he had performed the finest deed at a time that needed such fine examples.

When this was reported at Rome, it did no small service in securing Marius his third consulship; and at the same time, since the barbarians were expected in that season of the year, the people wanted to face the danger with no other general than him. Yet they did not come as quickly as expected, and again the term of Marius's consulship passed.

When the elections for the new magistrates were approaching and his fellow consul had died, Marius left Manius Aquillius in command of the forces and himself came to Rome. Though many good men were seeking the consulship, Lucius Saturninus, who most of all the tribunes led the populace and had been cultivated by Marius, made a speech urging that Marius be chosen consul. When Marius put on an act of reluctance and said he was declining the office, claiming he had no need of it, Saturninus denounced him as betraying his homeland by recoiling from leadership at so perilous a moment.

It was plain to everyone that Marius was acting his pretended reluctance unconvincingly with Saturninus, but the people, seeing that the crisis demanded both his skill and his good fortune, voted him his fourth consulship, and appointed Lutatius Catulus as his colleague, a man honored by the aristocracy and not burdensome to the common people.

Learning that the enemy was near, Marius crossed the Alps in haste; and having fortified a camp by the river Rhone, he gathered into it an abundant supply, so that he would never be forced by lack of necessities to give battle against his own better judgment.

The transport of supplies needed by the army, which had previously been long and costly as far as the sea, he himself made easy and quick. For the mouths of the Rhone, where they met the resistance of the sea, took in much silt and formed a bar packed together with deep mud by the surf, which made the entrance difficult, laborious, and slow for the grain-ships.

So he turned his idle army to this task and dug a great trench, and by diverting a large part of the river through it he brought it around to a suitable shore, deep enough to carry large ships, and giving a smooth, calm mouth to the sea. This channel still keeps its name from him to this day.

The barbarians divided themselves into two: the Cimbri were to go by way of Noricum, from higher ground, against Catulus and force that passage, while the Teutones and Ambrones were to go by way of the Ligurians, along the coast, against Marius.

The Cimbri were slower and delayed longer, whereas the Teutones and Ambrones departed without delay and, crossing the intervening land, appeared in numbers beyond counting, hideous in appearance, and unlike others in voice and clamor. Occupying a great part of the plain and encamping there, they challenged Marius to battle.

But he paid no attention to this, and kept his soldiers confined within the rampart, and rebuked bitterly those who grew bold, calling those who rushed forward in anger, eager to fight, traitors to their country; for, he said, the object of his ambition was not triumphs and trophies, but to push back so great a cloud and thunderbolt of war and so save Italy.

This is what he said privately to the officers and men of rank; but the soldiers he stationed in turn along the rampart and bade them watch, so that he might accustom them to endure the appearance of the enemy and bear their voice, which was altogether strange and beastlike, and to study their equipment and movements, so that in time what seemed terrifying might, through the eye, become familiar to the mind. For he believed that novelty adds much false terror to what is feared, but that with familiarity even things naturally dreadful lose their power to shock.

Not only did the daily sight of them take away something of the soldiers' awe, but also, faced with the barbarians' threats and their unbearable boasting, anger rose in them and heated and inflamed their spirits, for the enemy were not only carrying off and plundering everything around, but were also making assaults on the camp itself with much insolence and boldness, so that shouts and complaints of the soldiers were raised against Marius.

"What cowardice has Marius found in us, that he shuts us away from battle like women behind bolts and doorkeepers? Come, having suffered the treatment of free men, let us ask whether he is waiting for others to fight for Italy, and means to use us always as laborers, whenever he needs trenches dug and mud cleared out and rivers diverted.

For it is to this, it seems, that he has trained us through so many hardships, and it is this that he will show as the achievements of his consulships when he returns to the citizens. Or is he afraid of what happened to Carbo and Caepio, whom the enemy defeated, men far inferior to Marius in reputation and valor, and leading a far worse army? But it is better to suffer something while acting, as they did, than to sit as spectators while our allies are plundered."

Marius was pleased to hear this, and calmed them, saying it was not that he distrusted them, but that from certain oracles he was waiting for the right time and place of victory. For indeed he kept close by him a Syrian woman called Martha, borne about ceremonially on a litter, who was reputed to have powers of prophecy, and he offered sacrifices at her bidding. The Senate had earlier turned her away when she wished to appear before them on these matters and foretell the future,

but when she gained access to the women and, sitting especially at the feet of Marius's wife beside the gladiators, successfully foretold which one would win, she was sent on to Marius and came to be admired by him. And for the most part she was carried about in a litter, but when she went down to the sacrifices she wore a double purple robe fastened with a brooch and carried a spear wound with ribbons and garlands,

Now this performance gave many occasion for dispute, whether Marius, truly convinced, or feigning and playing along, was putting the woman on display. As for the vultures, Alexander of Myndus has recorded a marvel. Two of them always appeared before successes, following about the armies, recognizable by bronze collars; for the soldiers had once caught and collared them, then released them; and ever after, recognizing them, the soldiers would greet them, and when they appeared before a march they rejoiced, expecting some good outcome.

Of the many signs that appeared beforehand, most had a common character, yet word came from Ameria and Tuder, two Italian towns, that at night there were seen in the sky fiery spears and shields moving apart at first, then colliding with one another and taking on shapes and motions like men in battle, and finally, some giving way and others pressing on, all streamed away toward the west.

About this same time there also arrived Bataces, priest of the Great Mother from Pessinus, announcing that the goddess had spoken to him from her shrine that victory and mastery in the war belonged to the Romans. When the Senate accepted this and voted to establish a temple of victory to the goddess, Bataces, coming forward to address the people to say the same, was prevented by Aulus Pompeius, a tribune, who called him a charlatan and drove him from the platform with insult.

And indeed it was this above all that gave credence to the man's word. For no sooner had Aulus returned home after the assembly was dissolved than such a fever broke out in him that, becoming known and talked about by all, he died within the seventh day.

The Teutones attempted to besiege the camp while Marius kept quiet, but meeting with many missiles hurled from the rampart and losing some six of their own men, they decided to move on ahead so as to cross the Alps unopposed; and packing up, they filed past the Roman camp, appearing then most of all in their countless numbers by the length and duration of their passing, for they are said to have taken six days marching continuously to pass Marius's camp.

They marched close by, asking the Romans with laughter whether they had any messages for their wives, since they themselves would join their wives before long. Once the barbarians had gone past and moved further on, Marius himself broke camp and followed them at a leisurely pace, always keeping close and settling right beside them, using strongly fortified camping places and putting strong positions before him, so as to spend the nights in safety.

Advancing in this way, they reached the spot known as Aquae Sextiae, beyond which, after a short further march, they would be in the Alps. It was there that Marius prepared to give battle, and he occupied for his camp a strong position, but one that did not have abundant water, wishing, it is said, to provoke his soldiers by this as well.

When many complained and said they would suffer thirst, he pointed with his hand to a certain river flowing near the barbarians' camp, and told them that there was drink to be had from there, for a price paid in blood. "Why then," they said, "do you not lead us against them at once, while we still have moisture for blood?" And he said calmly, "First we must fortify our camp."

The soldiers, though chafing, obeyed; but the mass of camp servants, having no drink themselves or for the pack animals, went down to the river in a crowd, some carrying axes, some hatchets, some even swords and spears along with their water jars, as if they meant to draw water by fighting for it. At first only a few of the enemy fought against them, for most of them happened to be dining after their bath, while others were still bathing.

For that place breaks out in springs of hot water, and the Romans came upon a part of the barbarians there enjoying themselves and reveling in the pleasure and wonder of the place. At the outcry, as more came running together, it was difficult for Marius to hold back his soldiers, who feared for their servants, and the most warlike part of the enemy, by whom the Romans had earlier been defeated under Manlius and Caepio, formerly called Ambrones, numbering more than thirty thousand on their own, sprang up and rushed for their weapons.

Their bodies were heavy with overeating, their spirits were high and loosened with wine, and they came on not with disordered or frenzied rushing nor with inarticulate howling, but beating their weapons in rhythm and leaping together, all at once repeatedly shouting out their own name, Ambrones, whether calling to one another or trying beforehand to frighten the enemy by this announcement.

Of the Italians the Ligurians were the first to go down against them, and when they heard the shouting and understood it, they answered back, shouting that this was their own ancestral name as well, for the Ligurians so call themselves by descent. So the cry echoed thick and parallel back and forth before they came to close quarters; and as the armies on both sides took up the shout in turn, each side eager to outdo the other first in the loudness of the cry, the shouting provoked and further inflamed their anger.

The Ambrones were thrown into disorder by the stream, for they did not manage to form up in order after crossing, but as the foremost of the Ligurians fell upon them at once at a run, the fighting was hand to hand; and once the Romans rushed to help the Ligurians and pressed down upon the barbarians from higher ground, they were overpowered and turned to flight.

And most of them, jostled together there around the stream, struck one another down and filled the river with slaughter and corpses, while the Romans, crossing over, killed those who did not dare to turn and fight, all the way to their camp and their wagons as they fled,

There the women met them with swords and axes, shrieking terribly and in a passion of fury, and defended themselves against fugitive and pursuer alike, treating the former as deserters and the latter as foes, throwing themselves into the melee, and with bare hands tearing away the shields of the Romans and grasping at their swords, enduring wounds and the hacking of their bodies, unconquered in spirit even to the last. So they say that the battle by the river came about more by chance than by the general's design.

But when the Romans, having destroyed many of the Ambrones, withdrew again and darkness came on, the army was not received, as after so great a success, with paeans of victory and drinking in the tents and friendly cheer over dinner and, sweetest of all things to men who have fought successfully, gentle sleep; rather they passed that night above all as one fearful and full of turmoil.

For their camp lacked any rampart or stockade, and many tens of thousands of the barbarians still remained unbeaten, and mixed in among them were all of the Ambrones who had escaped; and there was wailing throughout the night, not like the weeping or groaning of human beings, but a kind of howling mixed with the roaring of beasts, blended with threats and lamentations, sent up from so great a multitude that it echoed round the surrounding mountains and the hollow places of the river.

And a dreadful sound held the plain, and fear held the Romans, and astonishment held Marius himself, who expected some disorderly and confused night-battle. Yet they did not attack, neither in the night nor on the following day, but spent their time drawing themselves up in order and making preparations.

Meanwhile Marius — for at the head of the barbarians there were sloping glens and valleys overshadowed by thickets — sent out Claudius Marcellus there with three thousand hoplites, ordering him to lie in ambush secretly and to appear behind them once the fighting had begun. The rest, having dined in good time and having slept, he drew up at daybreak and led out before the rampart, and sent the cavalry ahead onto the plain,

and when the Teutones saw them coming down to fight them on equal terms, they would not endure it, but arming themselves quickly and in anger charged up against the hill. But Marius, sending his officers everywhere, urged them to stand fast and hold their ground, and when the enemy came within range to hurl their javelins, then to use their swords and, bracing with their shields, to force them back;

for since the ground was treacherous for them, their blows would have neither force nor would their shield-wall have strength, their bodies being thrown into disorder and unsteadiness on account of the uneven terrain. This he urged upon them, and at the same time he was seen to be first in doing it himself; for his body was trained no worse than any man's, and he far surpassed them all in daring.

So when the Romans stood against them and, closing, checked them as they came surging upward, they were gradually pressed back and gave ground into the plain, and as the foremost were already forming into ranks on the level ground, there arose shouting and confusion around those in the rear; for the moment did not escape Marcellus, but as the outcry rose above the hills, he raised those with him and fell upon their rear at a run with a war-cry, killing those at the back,

and these, dragging along those in front of them, quickly filled the whole army with confusion, and they did not long endure being struck from both sides, but broke their ranks and fled. The Romans, pursuing, took alive or cut down more than a hundred thousand of them, and having taken possession of the tents, wagons, and money — as much as had not been stolen away — voted to give them to Marius. And though he received this most splendid of gifts, it was thought that nothing was adequate reward for the greatness of the danger he had generalled through.

Others do not agree about the gift of the spoils, nor about the number of the fallen. They say, however, that the Massaliots fenced their vineyards round with the bones, and that the earth, the corpses having been consumed in it and winter rains having fallen upon it, was so enriched and became so deeply saturated with the putrefaction that had sunk into it, that it bore an overwhelming abundance of fruit in due season, bearing witness to Archilochus, who says that fields are fattened by such means.

They say that, fittingly, after great battles extraordinary rains break out, whether because some divine power purifies the earth and washes it clean with pure waters falling from heaven, or because the slaughter and the putrefaction give off a moist and heavy vapor, which condenses the air, which is by nature changeable and easily altered from the smallest beginning into the greatest extent.

After the battle Marius chose out from the barbarian arms and spoils those that were conspicuous and whole and could furnish a fine processional show for his triumph, and the rest, having heaped the great mass of them upon a huge pyre, he offered as a magnificent sacrifice,

and with the army standing by under arms and crowned, he himself, girded as is the custom, having thrown back his purple-bordered robe and taken a burning torch and raised it with both hands toward the sky, was about to set it to the pyre, when friends were seen riding up swiftly toward him, so that a great silence and expectation fell upon everyone; and when they were near,

they leapt down and greeted Marius, bringing the good news that he had been chosen consul for the fifth time, and delivered letters concerning this. So great joy being added to the celebration of victory, the army for pleasure shouted together with a certain clash and clatter of arms, and while the officers once more set laurel wreaths on Marius, he touched a torch to the pyre and brought the offering to its close.

But she who allows none of the great strokes of good fortune to be unmixed and pure for delight, but variegates human life with a blending of evils and goods — whether it be some Fortune, or Nemesis, or the necessary nature of things — not many days later brought to Marius news concerning Catulus his colleague, like a cloud in fair weather and calm, once more setting fear and storm about Rome.

For Catulus, standing opposed to the Cimbri, had given up guarding the passes of the Alps, lest he be forced to divide his force into many parts and so become weak, but coming down at once into Italy, and taking the river Atiso before him, and having fenced the crossings on either side with strong palisades, he bridged the river, so that he might be able to send help to those on the far side, if the barbarians should force their way against the forts through the narrow passages,

but the barbarians had such an excess of contempt and boldness against the enemy that, displaying strength and daring rather than doing anything necessary, they endured being snowed upon while naked, and climbed to the peaks through frost and deep snow, and up above they set their broad shields beneath their bodies, then let themselves go and were carried down over cliffs having slippery slopes and vast smooth rock-faces,

and when they had encamped nearby and reconnoitred the crossing, they began to fill it in, tearing up the surrounding hills like the Giants, carrying trees roots and all, and fragments of cliffs, and mounds of earth into the river, squeezing the current, and letting great weights be dragged down along the stream against the piers supporting the bridge-structure, shaking the bridge with their blows, so that most of the soldiers, losing heart, abandoned the great camp and withdrew.

Then indeed Catulus showed himself to be, as a good and perfect commander must, one who puts his own reputation second to that of his fellow citizens. For when he could not persuade the soldiers to remain, but saw them breaking camp in fear, he ordered the eagle taken up, rushed at a run to the front of those departing, and led the way himself, wishing that the disgrace be his own and not his country's, and that it should seem the retreat was made not by men fleeing, but by men following their general.

The barbarians, having come upon the fort across the Atiso, took it, and admiring the Romans there, who had proved themselves the bravest of men and had risked their lives in a manner worthy of their country, let them go under truce, after they had sworn upon the bronze bull, which, they say, was later captured after the battle and carried to the house of Catulus as a kind of first-fruits of the victory; and pouring over the land, now bare of any defense, they ravaged it.

On account of these things Marius was called to Rome, and on his arrival, though everyone supposed he would celebrate a triumph and the senate voted for it eagerly, he did not think it fitting, whether because he was unwilling to strip his fellow-soldiers and comrades of any portion of the glory, or because he sought to rally the people toward what still remained to be done, as if he were entrusting to the fortune of the city the glory of his first successes, so that a more splendid renown might be rendered him for the second.

Having said what was fitting to the occasion, and having set out to join Catulus, he encouraged him and sent for his own soldiers from Gaul; and when they arrived, he crossed the Eridanus, working to bar the barbarians from entering Italy itself, but they, saying that they were waiting for the Teutones and were astonished that they were so slow, kept putting off the battle, either genuinely ignorant of their destruction, or wishing to seem not to believe it.

And indeed they treated cruelly those who brought them the news, and sent to Marius asking for land and cities enough for themselves and their brothers to dwell in. When Marius asked the ambassadors about these brothers, and they named the Teutones, all the rest burst out laughing, but Marius mocked them, saying, "Leave your brothers alone, then; for they already have land, and will hold it forever, having received it from us."

The ambassadors, understanding the irony, reviled him, saying that he would pay the penalty — from the Cimbri at once, and from the Teutones whenever they should arrive. "And indeed they are here," said Marius, "and you shall not depart until you have embraced your brothers." With these words he had the captive kings of the Teutones led out in chains before them; for the Sequani had seized them in the Alps as they fled.

When this was reported to the Cimbri, they again marched afresh against Marius, who remained still and stood watch over his camp. It is said that it was in that battle that the modification concerning the javelins was first introduced by Marius. For the fitting of the wood into the iron head had formerly been held fast by two iron pins; but Marius then left the one as it was, and, taking out the other, put in its place a wooden peg that would easily break,

contriving that when the javelin struck the enemy's shield it would not remain upright, but the wooden peg being broken, a bend would occur around the iron point, and the spear would be dragged along, catching by the crookedness of the point. And Boeorix, king of the Cimbri, riding up to the camp with a few companions, called on Marius to appoint a day and location and meet him there to settle the matter of the land by combat.

Marius replied that the Romans had never been accustomed to take counsel with their enemies about giving battle, but nevertheless he would grant the Cimbri this favor; so they set the day as the third from that one, and the place as the plain around Vercellae, suitable for the Romans to ride their cavalry over, and giving room for the enemy's numbers to spread out.

So, having kept to the appointed time, they drew up opposite one another, Catulus commanding twenty thousand three hundred men, while Marius's force numbered thirty-two thousand, and they surrounded Catulus in the middle, being distributed onto each wing, as Sulla, who fought in that battle, has written.

And he says that Marius, hoping that the phalanxes would meet chiefly at the extremities and on the wings, so that the victory might belong to his own soldiers alone, and that Catulus might have no share in the struggle nor even come to close quarters with the enemy, so arranged the forces that the center — as commonly happens across broad fronts — formed a hollow curve, thus separating the two armies' contact.

They record that Catulus himself gave a similar account of these matters, charging Marius with great malice toward him in this. As for the Cimbri, their infantry advanced quietly out of their fortifications, making the depth equal to the front; for each side of their formation extended thirty stadia:

The cavalry, fifteen thousand in number, rode out in splendor, wearing helmets fashioned like the gaping jaws of fearsome beasts and strange-shaped masks, which, raised up with feathered crests, made them appear taller still, adorned with iron breastplates and gleaming with white shields. Each man carried a pair of javelins, and when they closed in they used great heavy swords.

At that time they did not attack the Romans head-on, but veering to the right they gradually drew themselves off, driving into the space between themselves and their own infantry, which was drawn up on the left. The Roman generals perceived the trick, but were not quick enough to hold back the soldiers; rather, when one man shouted that the enemy were fleeing, all rushed to pursue.

During this the barbarian foot-soldiers surged forward like an endless sea heaving in motion. There Marius, washing his hands and raising them toward heaven, vowed to the gods a hecatomb; and Catulus likewise, raising his hands, vowed to consecrate the fortune of that day. Marius, it is said, when after sacrificing the omens were shown to him, cried out in a loud voice, "The victory is mine."

When the assault took place, Sulla and his circle report that Marius suffered a thing worthy of divine resentment. For when the dust rose up, boundless as one would expect, and the armies were hidden from one another, Marius, once he had set out first in pursuit, drew his forces on but missed the enemy, and being carried past the enemy line wandered about the plain for a long time; while by chance the barbarians collided with Catulus, and the battle was fought against him and mostly against his soldiers, among whom Sulla himself says he was stationed,

and he says that the heat, and the sun shining back into the eyes of the Cimbri, fought on the side of the Romans. For the Cimbri, being formidable in enduring cold, and reared, as has been said, in shady and cold regions, were overthrown by the heat, streaming with much sweat and gasping for breath, and holding their shields before their faces, since the battle took place after the turning of summer, on that day which the Romans count as three days short of the new moon in the month now known as August, though at that time it bore the name Sextilis.

It also helped toward their confidence that the dust hid the enemy from view, for they did not see the great numbers from a distance, but each group ran and closed with those directly opposite, and so came to grips without being terrified beforehand by the sight of the whole host. So toughened and hardened in body were they that not a single Roman was seen sweating or panting, despite such stifling heat and though the clash came after a run — so that Catulus himself, they say, related this in praise of his soldiers.

The greatest and most warlike part of the enemy was cut down there; for to prevent their line from being torn apart, the front fighters were bound to one another by long chains fastened through their belts. Those who fled were driven back to their palisade of wagons, where they met with the most tragic sufferings.

For the women, standing upon the wagons dressed in black, slew those who fled — some their husbands, some their brothers, some their fathers — and strangling their infant children with their own hands, they cast the bodies down beneath the wagon wheels and the hooves of the draft animals, and then took their own lives. It is said that one woman hung from the end of a wagon-pole with her children fastened by nooses to her ankles on either side.

The men, for lack of trees, bound their necks, some to the horns of oxen, others to their legs, and then, goading the oxen so that they leapt up, were dragged along and trampled to death. Yet even with so many destroyed in this way, more than sixty thousand were taken prisoner; and the number of the fallen was said to be twice that.

The plunder of money was seized by Marius's soldiers, but the spoils, the standards, and the trumpets, they say, were carried off to Catulus's camp; and Catulus used this above all as evidence that the victory was won under his command. And indeed, since a dispute had also arisen among the soldiers, as it seems, there were chosen as arbiters some envoys of the Parmensians who happened to be present; these men Catulus's soldiers led among the enemy dead and showed them pierced through by their own javelins, recognizable by the letters, since Catulus had had his name engraved upon the wood of his weapons.

Nevertheless the whole achievement was credited to Marius, both because of his earlier victory and the prestige of his office, and above all the multitude proclaimed him a third founder of Rome, on the grounds that he had averted a danger no less than that from the Celts, and rejoicing with their children and wives, each household at home offered the first portion of dinner and libation to the gods together with Marius, and they thought it fitting that he alone should celebrate both triumphs.

He did not, however, celebrate the triumph in this way alone, but together with Catulus, wishing to show himself moderate amid such great good fortune; and it was in part also because he feared the soldiers, who were arrayed and ready, if Catulus were kept from the honor, not to allow Marius himself to triumph either.

He was thus administering his fifth consulship; and he sought a sixth as no one had ever sought even a first, courting the people with favors and yielding to the multitude for the sake of popularity, not only beyond the dignity and common standing of his office, but also against his own nature, wishing to appear supple and a man of the people, though by nature he was anything but such.

But he was, as they say, most timid in political life and amid the tumults of the crowd, out of love of glory, and the fearlessness and steadiness he showed in battles deserted him in the assemblies, where he was thrown off balance by ordinary praise and blame. And yet it is said that when he granted citizenship to a thousand men of Camerinum together, who had fought with distinction in the war, and this was thought unlawful and some brought charges against him, he said that because of the din of arms he had not been able to hear the law clearly.

Yet in truth he seems rather to have been struck with fear and to have dreaded the shouting in the assemblies. In arms he had dignity and power through the need for him; but in political life, stripped of his primacy, he took refuge in the goodwill and favor of the multitude, sacrificing being the best in order to become the greatest.

He thus gave offense to all the aristocratic party, and above all, dreading Metellus, who had been made ungrateful toward him and who by nature, on account of true virtue, warred against those who did not court the masses in the best way but courted their favor for pleasure's sake, he plotted to drive the man out of the city, and to this end he attached to himself Glaucia and Saturninus,

men most brazen, who had under them a helpless and turbulent mob; through them he introduced laws, and raising up the soldiery he mixed it into the assemblies and stirred up faction against Metellus. As Rutilius records — a man in other respects truthful and honest, but privately at odds with Marius — Marius obtained his sixth consulship by paying out much money to the tribes and buying the means to drive Metellus from office, and by taking Valerius Flaccus as more a subordinate than a colleague in the consulship.

Indeed, the people gave so many consulships to no one before him except Valerius Corvinus alone; but they say that in his case forty-five years passed from his first to his last, whereas Marius ran through his five after the first in a single rush of fortune.

And it was especially over this last one that he incurred envy, joining in many wrongdoings along with Saturninus and his circle. Among these was Nonius's murder, killed by Saturninus for being a competing candidate for that same tribunate. Then, as tribune, Saturninus brought in the law about the land, to which was attached a clause that the senate must come forward and swear to abide by whatever the people should vote, and to oppose nothing.

Marius, pretending in the senate to oppose this part of the law, said he would not take the oath, nor did he suppose that anyone with good judgment would; for even granting the law was not a bad one, it was still an outrage for such things to be forced upon the senate rather than accepted by its own persuasion and willingness. But he did not say this out of his true opinion, but in order to lay an inescapable trap for Metellus.

For he himself, counting falsehood among the resources of virtue and cleverness, was going to hold himself bound by no word he had given before the senate; but knowing Metellus to be a steadfast man, one who held, in Pindar's words, that "truth is the foundation of great virtue," he wished, by his own refusal before the senate, to draw Metellus in first, and, once Metellus had refused to take the oath, to plunge him into irreconcilable hostility with the people. And this indeed came to pass.

For when Metellus declared he would not swear, the senate then broke up; but a few days later, when Saturninus was calling the senators up to the platform and compelling them to swear the oath, Marius came forward, and when silence fell and all eyes hung upon him, he bid a long farewell to what he had spoken so boldly in the senate, and said that his neck was not so broad that he should commit himself once for all in so great a matter beforehand, but that he would swear and obey the law — if indeed it was a law; and he added this clever phrase as a kind of veil for his shame,

and so the people, delighted that he had sworn, applauded and cheered him; but the best men were seized with deep dejection and hatred of Marius for his reversal. All swore thereafter in order, fearing the people, down to Metellus; but Metellus, though his friends begged and implored him to swear and not bring upon himself irrevocable penalties, which Saturninus was introducing against those who did not swear, did not lower his resolve nor take the oath,

but, remaining true to his character and prepared to suffer anything terrible rather than do anything shameful, he departed from the forum, saying to those around him that to do wrong was a base thing, and to do right without danger was common to all, but it was the mark of a good man to do what is noble even amid dangers.

After this Saturninus had it decreed that the consuls should proclaim Metellus barred from fire, water, and shelter; and the vilest part of the crowd was ready to kill the man, but the best citizens, in deep distress, ran together to Metellus and would not let him raise faction on his own account; instead he departed from the city, employing sound reasoning.

"For either," he said, "if things turn out better and the people repent, I shall return when called back; or if they remain the same, it is best to be rid of them." But the extent of the goodwill and honor Metellus enjoyed while in exile, and how he occupied himself with philosophical study at Rhodes, is a matter better told in his own written biography.

Marius, being compelled, in return for this service, to overlook Saturninus advancing to every extreme of boldness and power, unwittingly produced an intolerable evil, as the man moved openly by arms and slaughter toward tyranny and the overthrow of the constitution. Marius, out of respect for the foremost men yet courting the multitude, endured a most servile and shifting course of conduct.

For when the leading men came to him by night and urged him against Saturninus, he received Saturninus by another door without their knowledge. Then, pleading to both sides an attack of diarrhea as excuse, running now to the one, now to the other side of the house in turn, he set them against one another and inflamed them.

Nevertheless, when the senate and the knights united and grew indignant, he brought out arms into the forum, and pursuing them into the Capitol, he overcame them by thirst; for he cut off the water channels, and they, giving up, called upon him and surrendered themselves under the so-called public pledge of good faith.

But when, after doing everything in his power to save the men, it availed nothing — for as they were coming down into the forum they were killed — from that time on, having given offense both to the powerful and to the people alike, though a censorship fell open and he was expected to seek it, he did not stand for it, but let others of lesser standing be chosen, fearing to fail; and otherwise he made it a point of pride that he did not wish to make many enemies by scrutinizing harshly the lives and characters of others.

When a bill was brought forward to recall Metellus from exile, Marius opposed it strenuously both by word and by deed, but in vain, and in the end he gave up; and when the people took up the measure eagerly, unwilling to be present to see Metellus return, he sailed off to Cappadocia and Galatia, ostensibly to fulfill a vow of sacrifice owed to the Mother of the Gods, yet in truth pursuing a further aim for the trip that most people failed to notice.

For being ill-suited to peace and unpracticed in politics, and having grown great through wars, and then thinking that little by little his power and his reputation were withering again through idleness and quiet, he sought new occasions for action. For he hoped that by stirring up the kings and by rousing and provoking Mithridates, who seemed likely to make war, he would at once be picked as commander to oppose him, thereby filling Rome with fresh triumphal processions and stocking his own household with plunder from Pontus and royal riches.

Precisely because of this, even as Mithridates showered every courtesy and honor upon him, Marius would not bend or give way, but said, "Either try, O king, to be stronger than the Romans, or do in silence what you are ordered," and he astonished him, since Mithridates, though he had often heard a Roman voice, then for the first time heard Roman frankness.

When he had returned to Rome he had a house built close to the forum — by his own account so that those who came to pay him respect would not be worn out by a long walk, or, as he supposed, because more people did not throng other men's doors than his own. But this was not the true reason; rather, since others surpassed him in social charm and in serviceableness for civic life, he found himself laid aside, much as a weapon is put away once peace has come.

And with the rest he was less vexed at being outshone, but he was greatly annoyed by Sulla, whose rise came from the envy of the powerful against Marius himself, and who made his differences with Marius the starting point of his political career. And when Bocchus the Numidian, enrolled as an ally of the Romans, set up in the Capitol trophy-bearing Victories, and beside them, in gilded images, Jugurtha being handed over by himself to Sulla, this drove Marius out of his senses with anger and rivalry, since he thought Sulla was drawing off to himself the credit for his own achievements, and he made ready to tear down the offerings by force.

Sulla contended against him in turn, and the quarrel, which was just about to break out into the open, was checked by the Social War, which suddenly broke out against the city. For the most warlike and most populous of the Italian peoples banded together against Rome and came close to overturning her supremacy, being strong not only in arms and in men, but employing also the daring and the wonderful and rival skill of their generals.

This war, being varied in its sufferings and most changeable in its fortunes, added as much glory and power to Sulla as it took away from Marius. For he showed himself slow in his undertakings, and exceeded all bounds in hesitation and delay about everything, whether it was that old age was quenching in him that vigor and heat, or whether, as he himself said, being afflicted about the sinews and sickly and ill-suited in body for exertion, he endured the campaigns beyond his strength out of shame; for he had already passed his sixty-fifth year.

Nevertheless even then, winning a great battle, he destroyed six thousand of the enemy, and gave them no opening anywhere against him, but even when surrounded by a trench he endured it, and though mocked and called out to, he was not provoked. It is said that when Publius Silo, who held the greatest rank and power among the enemy, said to him, "Marius, if you're really such a great general, come down and settle this in battle," he answered, "No, you, if you are a great general, compel me to fight it out against my will."

Again, on another occasion, when the enemy offered an opportunity for attack but the Romans grew fearful, and both sides withdrew, he gathered the soldiers into an assembly and said, "I am at a loss whether to call the enemy more unmanly, or you: for neither could they bear to look upon your backs, nor you upon the back of their necks." Eventually he relinquished his command, pleading that sickness had left his body unfit for duty.

When the Italians had already been subdued and many in Rome were courting the command in the Mithridatic war through the demagogues, beyond all expectation Sulpicius, a tribune of the people, a most bold man, brought Marius forward and had him appointed proconsul-general against Mithridates. And the people were split, some choosing the side of Marius, others calling for Sulla and urging Marius to go to the hot springs at Baiae and attend to his body, worn out as it was by old age and rheumatic ailments, as he himself said,

for indeed Marius had there, near Misenum, a costly house, furnished with luxuries and softer modes of living than befitted a man who had been the very doer of so many wars and campaigns. This house is said to have been bought by Cornelia for seven and a half myriads of drachmas, and not very long afterward Lucius Lucullus bought it for two hundred fifty myriads; so quickly did extravagance run its course, and so great an increase did affairs take toward luxury.

Nevertheless Marius, very ambitiously and in a boyish manner shaking off old age and infirmity, went down to the Campus Martius day after day, and exercising with the young men, showed his body light in armor and steady on horseback, although he had not remained trim in old age as to bulk, but had given way to a full and heavy fleshiness.

Now some were pleased at his doing this, and going down would watch his ambition and his contests, but the best men, on seeing it, felt pity at his greed and love of glory, that having become richest from poorest and greatest from smallest, he did not know a limit to good fortune, nor, admired as he was, was he content, nor did he enjoy in quiet what he had,

but as if in want of everything, though an old man out of triumphs and glory, he set out for Cappadocia and the Euxine Pontus, to do battle with Archelaus and Neoptolemus, Mithridates' satraps. And the reasons Marius gave for this move struck everyone as thoroughly absurd: for he said he wished to train his son by being present himself on campaign.

These things tore open the city, which had for a long time been festering and sick underneath, Marius having found the boldness of Sulpicius a most fitting instrument for the common destruction—Sulpicius, who, admiring and emulating Saturninus in everything else, accused himself of cowardice and hesitation in his political conduct.

He himself, however, without hesitating, kept about six hundred of the knights around him as a sort of bodyguard, and called them his "anti-senate"; and bearing arms he descended on the consuls while they conducted a public assembly; one consul escaped by running from the forum, but Marius's men seized his son and put him to death, while Sulla, pursued past the house of Marius, rushed in where no one would have expected—and though he escaped his pursuers by running past unnoticed, it is said that he was sent out safely by Marius himself through another door and got through to the camp.

In his own memoirs Sulla claims he had not run to Marius seeking shelter, but had gone there on purpose to discuss the measures which Sulpicius was forcing him unwillingly to vote for, being surrounded in a circle by naked swords and driven to Marius's house, until he came forth from there into the forum and, as they demanded, put an end to the suspension of business.

When these things had come to pass, Sulpicius, now in power, had Marius elected to the command, and Marius was already making preparations for his departure, and dispatched a pair of military tribunes with orders to assume command of Sulla's army. But Sulla, having roused his soldiers—they were no fewer than thirty-five thousand hoplites—led them against Rome. And the soldiers, falling upon the tribunes whom Marius had sent, killed them.

Marius too had put to death many of Sulla's friends in Rome, and proclaimed freedom to slaves in return for military service; but it is said that only three came over to him. He made a small stand against Sulla as he drove in, but was quickly overpowered and fled. Of those about him, when he first was cast out of the city, scattered as they were in the darkness, he found shelter on one of his own country properties, Solonium,

and he sent his son from the estates of Mucius, his father-in-law, which were not far off, to get provisions, while he himself went down to Ostia, where a friend, Numerius, had prepared a ship for him; and not waiting for his son, but having with him Granius, his stepson, he sailed away. The young man, when he came to the estates of Mucius, taking what he needed and getting things ready, was overtaken by daybreak and did not altogether escape the notice of the enemy, but horsemen came riding up on suspicion toward

that place; but the overseer of the fields, seeing them beforehand, hid Marius in a wagon carrying beans, and yoking the oxen, drove the wagon toward the town to meet the horsemen. So Marius, carried in this way to the house of his wife, and taking what he needed, came by night to the sea, and boarding a ship bound for Libya, crossed over.

The elderly Marius, when he had put out to sea, being carried along the coast of Italy by a favoring wind, grew afraid of a certain Geminius, one of the powerful men at Tarracina, an enemy of his, and told the sailors beforehand to keep away from Tarracina. They wished to grant him this favor, but as the wind shifted toward the open sea and brought down a heavy swell, the ferry-boat did not seem able to hold out being swamped, and Marius being in distress and in a bad way from seasickness, they barely made land at the shores near Circeii,

and as the storm increased and provisions ran out, they disembarked and wandered aimlessly, doing as happens in great distress, always fleeing the present as most grievous and placing their hopes in the uncertain. For the land was hostile to them and the sea was hostile, and it was fearful to fall in with men, and fearful not to fall in with them for lack of necessities.

Still, as the day was drawing to a close, they chanced upon a handful of herdsmen, who had nothing to offer them despite being asked, but recognizing Marius bade him get away as fast as possible; for a little while before, many horsemen had been seen there riding about in search of him.

Being at every kind of loss, and especially with those about him fainting from hunger, he then turned aside from the road and, throwing himself into a deep wood, passed the night there in hardship. On the next day, worn down by want, wishing to make use of his body before it gave out entirely, he made his way along the shore, encouraging those who followed and begging them not to give out before their last hope, on which he kept himself, trusting in old prophecies.

For back when he was but a boy, dwelling out in the countryside, he had once caught, as it tumbled down into his cloak, an eagle's nest holding seven eaglets; and his parents, seeing this and marveling, inquired of the seers, who said that he would become the most illustrious of men, and that it was fated for him to attain the greatest command and office seven times.

Some say that this truly happened to Marius; others say that those who heard it from him at the time, and during his flight afterward, and believed it, wrote down a thing that is altogether fabulous. For no eagle produces a clutch larger than two eggs, and they say that even Musaeus was mistaken in saying of the eagle that it lays three, hatches two, and cares for one. This much, however, is agreed upon: that often in his flight and in his extreme distress Marius said that he would go on as far as a seventh consulship.

By now, being about twenty stadia from Minturnae, an Italian city, they saw a troop of horsemen riding toward them from a distance, and by chance two merchant ships passing by. So each man, according to what strength and speed of foot he had, ran down to the sea and, throwing themselves in, swam out to the ships. And Granius and his companions, taking hold of one of them, crossed over to the island opposite, called Aenaria;

but Marius himself, being heavy of body and hard to manage, was with difficulty and hardship lifted over the sea by two servants and placed on the other ship, the horsemen already standing by and shouting to the sailors from the shore either to bring the boat in, or to throw Marius overboard and sail wherever they wished. Marius begging and weeping, the masters of the merchant ship, after in a short time turning their judgment many times in both directions, nevertheless answered the horsemen that they would not give up Marius.

But when the horsemen rode off in anger, the sailors, changing their minds once more, steered for the coast; close by where the Liris river empties out and spreads into marshland, they dropped anchor and urged him to disembark and take food on land and tend to his body, worn out as it was, until there should be a favorable wind: for it was the usual hour for the sea breeze to die down and the marsh breezes to rise, fairly steadily.

Persuaded by this, Marius did as they said. The sailors lifted him onto the shore, and once he had lain down in some grass, far from what was about to happen, he had his mind occupied. But they immediately boarded the ship, weighed anchor, and fled, reckoning that it was neither honorable to hand Marius over nor safe to save him. Left thus deserted by everyone, for a long time he lay voiceless on the beach, but with difficulty somehow recovering himself he made his way along, wretchedly, over pathless ground.

Making his way through deep marshes, mud, and water-logged ditches, he stumbled upon a hut where an old man who worked the lagoon lived; falling before him he begged him to become the savior and helper of a man who, if he escaped his present troubles, would repay him with rewards beyond his hopes. The man, whether he recognized him from before or was struck with wonder at his bearing as being of a higher sort, said that his little hut was sufficient for him to rest in if he needed it, but if he were fleeing from some pursuers he would hide him in a place with more quiet.

When Marius begged him to do this, the man led him into the marsh and, bidding him crouch down in a hollow spot beside the river, threw over him many reeds and other light material that could cover him without harm.

Not much time had passed when a noise and commotion fell upon him from the hut. For Geminius had sent many men from Tarracina in pursuit, and some of these, coming there by chance, frightened and shouted down the old man, saying that he had taken in and was hiding an enemy of the Romans.

So Marius got up, stripped off his clothes, and let himself down into the lagoon, which had thick, muddy water. From this he did not escape the notice of his searchers, but was dragged out covered in mud, naked, and brought up to Minturnae, where he was handed over to the magistrates. For a proclamation had already been sent out to every city concerning Marius, that those who caught him should publicly hunt him down and kill him.

Still, the magistrates thought it best to deliberate first, and they lodged Marius under the roof of a woman called Fannia, who was not thought to be well disposed toward him because of an old grievance. For Fannia's husband had been Titinius; separating from him, she had demanded back her dowry, which was considerable, but he charged her with adultery. And it happened that Marius, in his sixth consulship, was the judge,

and when the case was tried it appeared both that Fannia had been unchaste and that her husband, knowing this, had married her and lived with her for a long time; displeased with both, he ordered the husband to return the dowry, but as a mark of the wife's disgrace he added a fine of four bronze coins to the judgment against her.

Yet Fannia at that time did not behave as a wronged woman would, but rather, when she saw Marius, being far from bearing any grudge, took care of him as best she could under the circumstances and encouraged him; and he in turn praised her and told her to take courage, for a good sign had appeared to him. It was this: as he was being led up to Fannia's house, when the doors opened a donkey ran out at a run to drink from a spring flowing nearby.

Looking at Marius with a bright and joyful expression, it first stood still facing him, then let out a loud bray and pranced up beside him in high spirits. From this Marius drew the conclusion and said that the divine power was showing him safety by sea rather than by land, since the donkey, disregarding its dry fodder, had turned toward the water instead. Having said this to Fannia, he retired by himself, bidding the door of the room be shut.

When the magistrates and councilors of Minturnae deliberated, it was decided not to delay but to put the man to death. None of the citizens undertook the task, but a horseman, Gallic or Cimbrian by race (both accounts are given), took a sword and came in against him.

The part of the house where he happened to be lying did not have very bright light but was shadowy, and it is said that Marius's eyes appeared to the soldier to shoot out a great flame, and a loud voice came out of the darkness: "Do you dare, man, to kill Gaius Marius?" At once the barbarian fled outside, and throwing down his sword in the middle of the room, went out through the doors, shouting only this: "I cannot kill Gaius Marius."

Amazement then seized everyone, and then pity, and a change of mind, and self-reproach for having formed a lawless and ungrateful resolve against the man who had saved Italy, whom it was terrible not to help. "Let him go, then, wherever he wishes, to bear elsewhere what fate has allotted him. As for us, let us pray that the gods do not take vengeance on us for casting Marius out of the city destitute and naked." Moved by such reasoning, they rushed in together, surrounded him, and led him out toward the sea,

with one man eagerly attending to one thing and another to another, and everyone hurrying, so that time was consumed. For the grove of the goddess called Marica, which they revere and guard so that nothing brought into it may be carried out from it, blocked the road to the sea, and going around it in a circle would have caused delay, until one of the older men cried out that no road was forbidden or impassable by which Marius might be saved, and he himself, taking up one of the things being carried to the ship, was the first to pass through the place.

With such eagerness everything was quickly provided, and one Belaeus supplied Marius with a vessel (this same man afterward commissioned a painted scene of these events and set it up as a temple offering, at the very spot where Marius went aboard and set sail). A favorable wind carried him, as fortune would have it, to the island of Aenaria, where he came upon Granius and the rest of his companions and sailed on with them in the direction of Libya,

but when their water ran out they were forced to put in at Sicily near Eryx. It happened that the Roman quaestor was keeping watch around those parts, and he nearly caught Marius himself as he was disembarking, and killed about sixteen of those who had gone for water. Marius, putting out to sea in haste and crossing the open water to the island of Meninx, there first learned that his son had escaped safely with Cethegus and that they were journeying to Iampsas, king of the Numidians, to beg for help.

At this news he took a little heart and was emboldened to sail from the island toward Carthaginian territory. Sextilius, a Roman, was then governing Libya as praetor, a man who had received neither harm nor benefit from Marius, but expected to gain something from an act of pity. But just as Marius had disembarked with a few companions, an officer met him, stood before him, and said: "Sextilius the praetor forbids you, Marius, to set foot on Libyan soil; if you do, he says he will enforce the decrees of the senate, treating you as an enemy of Rome."

Hearing this, Marius, from grief and heavy-heartedness, was at a loss for words, and for a long time kept silence, gazing terribly at the officer. When the man asked what message and what answer he was to bring back to the praetor, Marius, with a great groan, answered: "Tell him, then, that you have seen Gaius Marius sitting as an exile among the ruins of Carthage," not badly setting side by side, as an example, the fortune of that city and the change in his own.

Meanwhile Iampsas, king of the Numidians, wavering in his calculations, treated young Marius and his companions with honor, but whenever they wished to leave he kept detaining them on one pretext or another, and it was clear he was making the delay for no good purpose. Nevertheless something of what might be expected came about for their safety. For the young Marius, being handsome in appearance, distressed one of the king's concubines by his conduct, contrary to what was fitting, and this pity became the beginning and pretext of love,

and at first he rebuffed the woman; but when he saw no other way to escape and her attentions grew more earnest than merely pleasurable indulgence, he accepted her friendliness, and being sent off by her together with his friends, he escaped and fled to Marius. When they had embraced one another, walking along the sea they came upon scorpions fighting, and this sign appeared to Marius to be evil.

Straightaway they climbed into a fisherman's skiff and made the crossing to Cercina, an island lying near the mainland, escaping by the narrowest of margins, since just as they pushed off, riders dispatched by the king were spotted arriving at the shore they had just left. Marius thought he had escaped a danger no less than any other.

In Rome, meanwhile, it was reported that Sulla was fighting Mithridates's generals around Boeotia, while the consuls, having fallen into factional strife, took up arms against each other. In the battle that followed Octavius was victorious and expelled Cinna, who was attempting to rule in too tyrannical a fashion, and set up Cornelius Merula as consul in his place; but Cinna, gathering a force from the rest of Italy, waged war again

against them. When Marius learned of this, it seemed best to sail as quickly as possible; taking from Libya some Mauretanian horsemen and some of those coming down from Italy, amounting together to no more than a thousand men, he put out to sea. Landing at Telamon in Etruria and disembarking, he proclaimed freedom for slaves, and as the free men working the land and pasturing flocks in that region ran together to the sea because of his reputation, persuading the most vigorous of them, within a few days he gathered a large force and manned forty ships.

Knowing that Octavius was an excellent man who wished to govern in the most just manner, but that Cinna was suspected by Sulla and was warring against the established government, he decided to attach himself, with his forces, to Cinna. He therefore sent word promising that he would do everything ordered of him as if to a consul. Cinna accepted and addressed him as proconsul, and sent him the rods and other insignia of office, but Marius did not

say that such adornment befitted his present fortunes; instead, wearing shabby clothing and with his hair grown long from the day he had fled, being over seventy years old, he approached on foot, wishing to appear pitiable, but mixed with the pity was something more of his own natural appearance that was fearsome, and his dejection revealed a spirit not humbled but rather made savage by the change of fortune.

Having greeted Cinna and met with the soldiers, he set to work at once and brought about a great change in affairs. First, by cutting off the grain ships and plundering the merchants, he gained control of the market, then he sailed along and captured the coastal cities. Finally, taking Ostia itself by treachery, he plundered its money and killed most of its people, and by bridging the river he completely cut off his enemies' supplies coming from the sea,

then, moving with his army toward the city, he seized the hill called Janiculum, the situation being damaged not so much by Octavius's inexperience as by his strict adherence to what was just, letting go of what was expedient for the sake of principle — a man who, though many urged him to call the household slaves to freedom, refused to grant citizens' rights to slaves, defending by the laws the very country from which he was excluding Gaius Marius.

But when Metellus, the son of that Metellus who once held command in Libya and was forced out on Marius's account, arrived in Rome and appeared far more capable a general than Octavius, the soldiers abandoned Octavius and went over to him, begging him to take command and save the city, since they had gained an experienced and energetic leader who would fight well and win. When Metellus, indignant, ordered them to go back to the consul, they went over to the enemy instead, and Metellus too withdrew, despairing of the city.

Octavius was kept in Rome by Chaldean astrologers and certain diviners and Sibylline interpreters, who persuaded him that things would turn out well. For this man, who in all other respects was reckoned the most upright of the Romans, and who above all preserved the dignity of the consulship unflattered, maintaining the ancestral customs and laws as if they were unalterable ordinances, is thought to have shown a single weakness on this score, devoting more of his time to astrologers and soothsayers than to those experienced in politics and warfare.

Before Marius had even entered the city, this man was pulled down off the speaker's platform by those sent in advance and put to death, and it is said that a Chaldean horoscope was found in the bosom of the murdered man. And the matter contained much absurdity, that of the two most eminent leaders, Marius was proved right in not despising divination, while Octavius was destroyed by it.

Matters standing thus, the senate convened and dispatched envoys to Cinna and Marius, entreating the two men to come into the city and show mercy to its people. Cinna, taking his seat as consul in his chair of office, transacted business and gave kindly answers to the envoys, but Marius stood beside the chair, saying nothing, but through the grim set of his face and the harshness in his eyes, he made it plain that the city would soon be drenched in bloodshed.

When they rose up and began to walk, Cinna went in with his armed escort around him, yet Marius stopped short at the entrance, putting on a show of restraint against his anger, saying that he was an exile and barred from his fatherland by law, and that if anyone had need of him while he was present, the vote that had banished him must first be repealed by a second vote—playing the part, as it were, of a law-abiding man returning into a free city.

So he called the people together into the forum, and before three or four tribes had cast their vote, he threw off the pretense and that exile's plea of legality, and came down into the city with a chosen bodyguard drawn from the slaves who had flocked to him, whom he called Bardyaeans. These men killed many at a word from him, and many at a mere nod, when he gave the order; and finally, when Ancharius—a man who had held both senatorial office and the praetorship—came upon Marius and got no greeting in return, they struck him down in front of him with their swords.

From this point on, all the others too whom he greeted without a return greeting when they saluted him—this very thing was the signal to cut them down at once in the streets, so that each of his friends felt dread and a shudder of horror on approaching to give Marius his greeting. And though many were being killed, Cinna grew dulled and already sated with slaughter, but Marius, his anger mounting fresh each day and thirsting on, went after all who had in any way fallen under suspicion, and every road,

and every city was full of men hunting down and tracking those who fled and hid. The trust owed to hospitality and friendship was put to the test and found to hold nothing firm against fortune's reversals; for very few indeed were those who did not betray to them the men who had taken refuge with them.

It is worth admiring and marveling, then, at the servants of Cornutus, who hid their master at home, but hung up the body of one of the many dead by the neck, and putting a gold ring on it, showed it to Marius's bodyguard, and after dressing it up as though it were their master, buried it as him. No one suspected anything, and so Cornutus, thus escaping notice thanks to his household slaves, was conveyed safely to Gaul.

Marcus Antonius the orator, too, though he had a good friend, met with misfortune through him. The man was poor and of the common people, but having taken in the foremost man of Rome as his guest and treating him kindly with what he had, he sent a slave to one of the wine-merchants nearby to fetch wine. The slave, tasting it with unusual care and asking for a better measure, was asked by the merchant what had come over him that he was not buying the cheap, common wine as usual, but was asking for the choice and expensive kind,

and the slave, speaking simply enough, as to a familiar acquaintance, said that his master was entertaining Marcus Antonius at his house, who was hiding there. At this the merchant, an impious and vile man, as soon as the slave had left, hurried off himself to Marius, who was already at dinner, and being brought before him, agreed to hand Antonius over to him.

When Marius heard this, he is said to have cried out loudly and to have clapped his hands together for joy; and he very nearly rose up and went himself to the place, but his friends held him back, and he sent Annius, with soldiers along with him, with instructions to bring him Antonius's head as quickly as possible. Upon reaching the house, Annius remained outside at the entrance, while the soldiers went up by ladders into the room, and on seeing Antonius, each urged the other forward to do the killing in his place,

each pushing it onto the next. Such, it seems, was the man's charm and the spell of his words that when he began to speak and to plead against death, not one of them dared touch him or so much as meet his gaze, and instead they all lowered their heads and wept; and as the delay went on, Annius came up and saw Antonius still talking and the soldiers struck with amazement and held spellbound by him. So he rebuked them, and running up himself, cut off the head.

Catulus Lutatius, who had been consul with Marius and shared his triumph over the Cimbri, when those pleading and begging on his behalf received from Marius only this one answer, “He must die,” shut himself into a room, kindled a great quantity of charcoal, and suffocated himself.

As headless bodies were thrown out and trampled underfoot in the streets, there was no pity, but only horror and trembling in everyone at the sight. But what most vexed the people was the insolence of the men called Bardyaeans; for after slaughtering masters in their own houses, they violated their children and forced themselves on their mistresses, and were uncontrollable in their plundering and bloodlust, until Cinna and Sertorius, joining together in agreement, fell upon them as they slept in their camp and speared every one of them to death.

Meanwhile, as if some turn of fortune's wheel were coming round again, messengers kept arriving from every side that Sulla had finished the Mithridatic war, recovered the provinces, and was sailing back with a great force; and this brought a brief check and a short pause in their unspeakable evils, since they thought the war was all but upon them already. Marius was then proclaimed consul for a seventh time, and when he appeared publicly on the Kalends of January itself, the year's opening day, he ordered a man named Sextus Lucinus flung from the rock, which seemed to both the victims and the city itself to be the greatest omen of evils yet to come.

Marius himself, already worn out by his labors and, as it were, waterlogged and exhausted by his anxieties, could not bear to bring his soul, trembling from experience of terrors and from weariness, to face again so vast a design of a new war and fresh struggles and fears, reasoning that the danger before him would not be against Octavius or Merula, generals of a motley mob and a factious rabble, but that Sulla was coming against him—the very man who had long ago driven him from his fatherland, and who had now brought Mithridates to bay on the shores of the Euxine Sea.

Broken by such reasonings, and picturing to himself his own long years of wandering, of flight and peril, chased across both land and water, he sank into dreadful perplexities and nighttime terrors and troubled dreams, always seeming to hear someone speaking the words, ‘Terrible are the lion's lairs, even when he is away.’ And fearing sleeplessness above all else, he threw himself into drinking and untimely bouts of drunkenness unsuited to his age, contriving sleep as a kind of escape from his anxieties.

At last, when someone came bringing a report from the sea, new fears fell upon him, partly from dread of what was to come, partly, as it were, from the burden and surfeit of his present state, and after a slight tipping of the scale he was brought down into an illness, pleurisy, as Posidonius the philosopher records—for he himself, he says, went in and conversed with him about the matters on which he was serving as an envoy, while Marius was already

ill, as he tells it. And a certain Gaius Piso, a historian, records that Marius, walking about after dinner with his friends, fell into conversation about his own affairs, beginning from far back; and after recounting the many reversals of fortune on both sides that he had experienced, he remarked that no man of sound judgment ought to keep placing his confidence in fortune; and after this, having greeted those present and having lain down, he died after seven continuous days.

Some say that his ambition, laid utterly bare in his illness, ran off into a strange derangement, as he pictured himself in command of the Mithridatic campaign, and then, exactly as he had once done amid the real battles, ran through every posture and bodily movement, along with strained shouting and repeated battle-cries.

So terrible and inconsolable was the passion for those exploits that had melted into him, born of love of power and jealous rivalry. Therefore, though he had lived seventy years, and had been the first man ever proclaimed consul seven times, and had acquired a house and wealth sufficient for many kingdoms together, he lamented his own fortune as though he were dying poor and unfulfilled in what he had longed for.

Plato, then, when he was already near death, praised his own guardian spirit and his fortune, because, first, he had been born a human being, and not an irrational beast; and next, a Greek, and not a barbarian; and besides these things, because his birth had coincided with the times of Socrates.

And, by Zeus, they say that Antipater of Tarsus likewise, near his death, reckoned up the blessings that had fallen to his lot, and did not forget even his favorable voyage from home to Athens, treating every gift of fortune, as though she were kindly disposed, as a matter of great gratitude, and preserving it in memory to the end—of which nothing is a more secure storehouse of good things for a man.

But things slip away, with the passage of time, from the forgetful and the thoughtless; and so, holding nothing and retaining nothing, they are always empty of good things, but full of hopes, looking toward the future and letting go of the present. And yet the one fortune could prevent, while the other is unable to be taken away

but nevertheless, casting this aside as though it were no concern of fortune's, they dream instead of that uncertain thing, and suffer what is to be expected; for before laying down, through reason and education, a foundation and base for external goods, in gathering and heaping them up they cannot fill the insatiable hunger of the soul.

At any rate, Marius died having held only seventeen days of his seventh consulship. And at once Rome felt great joy and confidence, as though rid of a harsh tyranny; but within a few days people perceived that they had exchanged, in place of an old master, a new and vigorous one, so great was the cruelty and bitterness that his son Marius displayed, putting to death the best and most respected men.

Thought at first to be bold and fond of danger against the enemy, he was at first called a son of Ares; but soon, refuted by his deeds, he came instead to be called a son of Aphrodite. In the end, besieged and confined within Praeneste by Sulla's forces, and after grasping at survival in every futile way he could, when the city's capture became inescapable, he killed himself with his own hand.

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