did not escape. This man, though poor, and of the lower
class, received in his house one of the most illustrious of the
Romans, and wishing to entertain him as well as he could, he sent a
slave to one of the neighbouring wine-shops to get some wine. As the
slave was more curious than usual in tasting it, and told the man to
give him some better wine, the merchant asked what could he the reason
that he did not buy the new wine, as usual, and the ordinary wine, but
wanted some of good quality and high price. The slave replied in his
simplicity, as he was speaking to an old acquaintance, that his master
was entertaining Marcus Antonius, who was concealed at his house. The
wine-dealer, a faithless and unprincipled wretch, as soon as the slave
left him, hurried off to Marius, who was at supper, and having gained
admission, told him that he would betray Marcus Antonius to him. On
hearing this, Marius is said to have uttered a loud shout and to have
clapped his hands with delight; and he was near getting up and going
to the place himself, but his friends stopped him, and he despatched
Annius with some soldiers, with orders to bring him the head of
Antonius immediately. On reaching the house, Annius waited at the
door, and the soldiers mounting the stairs entered the room, but on
seeing Antonius, every man began to urge some of his companions and
push him forward to do the deed instead of himself. And so powerful
were the charm and persuasion of his eloquence, when Antonius began to
speak and pray for his life, that not a man of them could venture to
lay hands on him or look him in the face, but they all bent their
heads down and shed tears. As this caused some delay, Annius went
upstairs, where he saw Antonius speaking and the soldiers awed and
completely softened by his eloquence; on which he abused them, and
running up to Antonius, cut off his head with his own hand. The
friends of Catulus Lutatius, who had been joint consul with Marius and
with him had triumphed over the Cimbri, interceded for him with
Marius, and begged for his life; but the only answer they got was, "He
must die!" and accordingly Catulus shut himself up in a room, and
lighting a quantity of charcoal, suffocated himself. Headless trunks
thrown into the streets and trampled underfoot excited no feeling of
compassion, but only a universal shudder and alarm. But the people
were most provoked by the licence of the Bardiaei, who murdered fathers
of families in