In truth, Rome, strong in conquest, rich in possessions, and famous through the deeds of great men, now took a place among the leading nations of the world. The Comitium, and, indeed, the entire Forum, became so crowded with the statues of her heroes that the Senate was forced from time to time to remove many of these images, in order to honour men of more recent fame. About this time, however, there was raised, near the ancient fig tree, a certain statue that remained on the Comitium for several hundred years. The figure was that of a man bearing on his shoulder a full wine-skin, and holding one of his hands uplifted, as if to bespeak the attention of the passer-by. This statue was that of Marsyas, an attendant of Bacchus, the ivy-crowned god freedom and plenty. With its raised hand, the image of Marsyas seemed to bid men stop and ponder upon the freedom gained through the just dealings of the law, and upon the plenty of a land where the people were so wisely governed. Therefore this statue stood as a symbol of happy liberty, and as such was also placed in the forums of many towns under Roman rule. It became a custom for successful lawyers to crown Marsyas with a chaplet of flowers; for truly, were not the minds of their clients freed from anxiety, and had not they themselves gained full purses? And once when in sport a young man stole one of the garlands of Marsyas, he was made to suffer imprisonment, so highly was this statue honoured and cared for.

But, alas! the Romans were not long at peace either at home or abroad. Their riches and successes were already proving a curse. The people cared but for games and amusements; the government but for conquests and triumphs. The influence of the Senate lessened as that of the army increased, until Rome's real rulers were the most popular and powerful generals of her military forces. So the time came when her greatest foes were those within her own walls, and when she received blow after blow from those whose duty it was to uphold and to protect her.

Two of her consuls, great generals, but envious and ambitious men, used their honourable trusts as the means for their own success, and fought their way to fame and wealth over downtrodden law and murdered men. The names of Marius and Sulla are even now spoken with horror by all that know of the sufferings of the Romans under their lawless rule. For the city now saw days of strife that made the struggle of the Patricians and the Plebeians seem as nothing.

Wars with other nations were almost forgotten during the bitter contest of these two men, each of whom, striving to gain the highest authority and holding might as the only form of right, used all and any means to serve his ends. Rome was in the hands first of one party, then of the other; riots and murders followed in quick succession; the Senate bowed down to whomsoever was master of the hour. An army, led by Sulla, came as an enemy against Rome herself, and within her very gates battled with the forces of Marius. Roman against Roman, and the government in the hands of the stronger! Was this the great nation whose men had been known as among the bravest and the most loyal of all the world ? Were these the descendants of such stanch upholders of the Republic as Brutus, and Cincinnatus, and Camillus? No wonder that Scipio Æmilianus, another of Rome's great generals, changed the prayer by which the magistrates were wont to petition the gods! No wonder that, foreseeing the troubles of his country, he had not prayed, "May the State be increased!" but had uttered instead the sad entreaty, "May the State be preserved!"

Of these hard and bitter rivals, Caius Marius was the elder. He was made consul seven times, yet he died a miserable, disappointed man, because, although having all that wealth and position could give, he had not obtained the command of a certain coveted campaign, and had been forced to see Sulla triumph in his place. Nevertheless, in his day he gained great glory; but it was dearly bought with human life—not only with that of the soldiers, but with that of any person, high or low, who stood in his mad ambition's way. For at one time, by the order of Marius, the gates of Rome were closed, and for five days the merciless tyrant went about the city with a band of armed men that killed on the spot whomsoever he pointed out. And to serve him, or to be his friend, insured no measure of safety, for he aided none and used all.

During a certain turmoil in Rome, Saturninus, Glaucia, and Saufeius, base magistrates and associates of Marius, were obliged to escape from the attacks of the furious multitude by taking refuge in the Capitol. At last, however, the three desperate men gave themselves up to Marius, then consul for the sixth time, for they hoped that he would use his power in their defence. But they trusted him in vain, for, ordering them to be shut up in the Curia,—as if placing them under the protection of the law,—he abandoned them to the mob, which, pulling the tiles off the roof of the Senate-house, stoned them to death.

And it was in the time of Marius that the horrible custom began of hanging the heads of murdered men on the front of the Rostra. The first victim whose head was thus shown to the people, was the consul Octavius, basely killed because he refused to desert his office and leave Rome to Marius and his followers. This Octavius was the second of his name whose life was taken while in the service of his country. And near the Rostra, to which was attached his bleeding head, stood the statue of Cneius Octavius, his grandfather, treacherously murdered while on an embassy to the land of Syria.

It was also by the order of Marius that the orator, Marcus Antonius, was tracked to his place of hiding in a farm-house, and there killed; for he had used his eloquence in Sulla's favour, and was too dangerous an enemy to be allowed to live. But so great was his power that the very men who came to kill him were charmed by his words, and forgot their hideous errand as they listened to the speech he made them. And thus spellbound, a tribune found them when he came to make sure that the deed was done, and that this enemy of Marius was quieted forever. Amazed at the sight, and angered at the delay, the tribune with his own hands cut off the head of Antonius, even as the great orator was still addressing the men. Then, with a severe rebuke for their weakness, he bade the assassins take the head to Marius, who caused it to be hung among the other horrible trophies of the Rostra.

The end of Cornelius Sulla was very unlike that of his enemy, for he died satisfied with all that he had done, and believing himself to have been favoured by the gods above all other men. At the height of his success, some years after the death of Marius, Sulla became dictator for life, and in a speech to the people he spoke of his unvarying good fortune, and claimed for himself the title of "Felix," or the "happy one." Soon afterward the servile Senate placed near the Rostra a gilt statue of Sulla, mounted upon his charger, and on the base were inscribed these words, "Cornelius Sulla, a fortunate Commander."

Romans of all ranks now acknowledged this man as their master, but their homage was that compelled by terror, not that of respectful admiration. For when Sulla became the chief magistrate, he determined to destroy all persons belonging to the family of Marius, together with all the members of his party, and to this end he drew up a long list of such as were to be put to death. This list was attached to the Rostra in the sight of all the people, and was called a "Proscriptio," or a "writing up." Besides the names of those that were condemned by Sulla, because "enemies of the State," there were mentioned in the proscription various prizes to assassins and rewards to all informers. This proscription was the first in the history of the Romans, but even in the time of Sulla there were many others. To oblige his friends, he often added the names of their enemies to his awful lists, and no man was safe at any time. Spies were everywhere, and people, taken unawares, were killed in their home, in the streets, and even in the temples. The old writers tell us that fifty senators and one thousand nobles died by the order of Marius, and that forty senators and one thousand and six hundred nobles were the victims of Sulla. Thus none were left to gainsay him, and this great and terrible man became absolute master of Rome.

And then, having reached the summit of his ambition, Cornelius Sulla summoned the people to the Forum, and from the Rostra made a speech that filled them with astonishment. He told them that it was his purpose to lay down the dictatorship, that he was about to retire to the enjoyment of private life, and that from that day he left them free to elect whom they would as their magistrates. And he followed this astounding speech with an act of still more boldness. Discharging his armed attendants, and dismissing his lictors, he descended from the Rostra, and passed through the crowd like an ordinary citizen, a few friends only accompanying him to his home. The amazed people, who had every reason to hate him, and to wreak vengeance upon him, let him go unharmed, and even looked upon him with awe, for his courage was indeed magnificent.

Sulla gave the Romans a grand farewell feast, and then left Rome for his estate in the country. There he remained until his death, one year later, spending his days in revelry and pleasure, and yet finding time to finish the history of his life, wherein he describes himself as "fortunate and all-powerful to his last hour."