Caius Marius, musing over the ruins of Carthage, has been made
the subject of a very good picture; and the author of that not very
old Italian work entitled “Notti Romane” has entered with great
effect into those feelings which the successor of Sylla probably
acted under. If the characters of those who commit crimes could
be analyzed, it would be found, perhaps invariably, that such persons
are either too stupid to be sensible of what they do, or under
some illusion of feeling or imagination which entirely conceals from
them its atrocity.
“Nodrito dalla sola vendetta m' inoltrai sulla spiaggia peregrinando
verso Minturno: ivi mi abbattei immantininte ne' guerrieri
Sillani miei indefessi persecutori. Mi gettai fra le onde a nuoto, e
mi rivolei a due navi, non remote, per ricoverarmi in esse. Le
gravi, provette, vaste, oppresse, mie membra faceano a stento
quell' offizio, cosi che il sommergermi era imminente, lo udiva, intanto
que' sicarj dal lido far voti crudeli a Nettuno, ed a Nereo
perche mi traessero negli abbissi loro, et invocare i mostri voraci
del mare; e schernire con ribalde parole quella mia trista ansietà.
“A me sospinto da continue sciagure, scacciato da ogni lido, era
omai divenuto ogni terra inospitale, ogni mare tempestoso; e stetti
muto contemplando la ruine della spenta Cartagine, come specchio
della fortuna.”—
Notti Romane.
Marius, soon after the scene depicted in this extract, returned to
Rome, and (as he is made to express it in the same work) purged
the city of its horrid ingratitude.
