all he saw, sank deep into his heart. If his look turned to the
gleaming spot which was the city of Neapolis, there came into his
mind the sack and massacre of a few years ago, when Belisarius so
terribly avenged upon the Neapolitans their stubborn resistance to
his siege. Faithful to the traditions of his house, of his order,
Maximus had welcomed the invasion which promised to restore Italy to
the Empire; now that the restoration was effected, he saw with
bitterness the evils resulting from it, and all but hoped that this
new king of the Goths, this fortune-favoured Totila, might sweep the
land of its Greek oppressors. He looked back upon his own life, on
the placid dignity of his career under the rule of Theodoric, the
offices by which he had risen, until he sat in the chair of the
Consul. Yet in that time, which now seemed so full of peaceful
glories, he had never at heart been loyal to the great king; in his
view, as in that of the nobles generally, Theodoric was but a
usurper, who had abused the mandate intrusted to him by the Emperor
Zeno, to deliver Italy from the barbarians. When his own kinsmen,
Boethius and Symmachus, were put to death on a charge of treachery,
Maximus burned with hatred of the Goth. He regarded with disdain the
principles of Cassiodorus, who devoted his life to the Gothic cause,
and who held that only as an independent kingdom could there be hope
for Italy. Having for a moment the ear of Theodoric's daughter,
Amalasuntha, when she ruled for her son, Maximus urged her to yield
her kingdom to the Emperor, and all but saw his counsel acted upon.
After all, was not Cassiodorus right? Were not the senators who had
ceaselessly intrigued with Byzantium in truth traitors to Rome? It
was a bitter thought for the dying man that all his life he had not
only failed in service to his country, but had obstinately wrought
for her ruin.