and still mindful of their old renown, the Parthian cavalry, and the
sturdy mountaineers of the Caucasus; on the opposite wing were the
Bactrians--mostly hardy dwellers in the hills, and famous both for
activity and for fierceness--and the native Persians, horse and foot,
in alternate formation. But it was in the centre of the line, round the
person of Darius, where he stood conspicuous on his royal chariot, that
the choicest troops of the Empire were congregated. Here were ranged
the Persian Horseguards--a force levied from the noblest families of
the race that had ruled Western Asia for more than two centuries.
They were known by the proud title of "Kinsmen of the King," and the
Footguards, also a _corps d'élite_, who carried apples at the butt-end
of their pikes. Next to these stood the Carians, probably a colony from
the well-known people of that name in Asia Minor, possibly transported
by some Persian king to a settlement in the East. Of all Asiatic
races the Carians had shown themselves the most apt to learn the Greek
discipline and to rival Greek valour. Next to the Carians, again, stood
the Greek mercenaries.
In front of the line were the scythed chariots, numbering two hundred
in all, each with its sharp-pointed sides projecting far beyond the
horses, and its sword-blades and scythes stretching from the yoke and
from the naves of the wheels. (This is the first time that we hear of
the scythed chariot. It was a device of a barbarian kind, and seldom,
as far as we know, very effective.) Behind the line, again, was a large
mixed multitude, drawn from every tribe that still owned the Great
King's sway.
Alexander saw that this time he had a formidable enemy to deal with.
He had an entrenched camp constructed, as possibly useful in case of
a reverse, and he consulted his generals--a course which he seldom
followed--as to how an attack might be most advantageously delivered.
But when one of his most experienced officers suggested an assault
by night, he emphatically rejected the idea. It was, he declared, an
unworthy stratagem; victory so won would be worse than defeat. A more
powerful reason was probably the danger of such an attempt. A night
attack is always a desperate device.
The first day after coming in sight of the enemy Alexander spent in
preparation and consultation. On the morrow he drew out his order of
battle. As usual he put himself at the head of the right wing. This was
made up of the "Companions," the light infantry, and three out of the
six divisions of the phalanx. The left wing, if it may be so called,
for there was no centre, consisted of the rest of the phalanx, with a
body of cavalry from the allied Greek states.
And now, for the first time, Alexander had a second line in reserve.
His numbers were considerably increased, the 35,000 with which he had
crossed into Asia having now mounted up to nearly 50,000. And the
nature of the battlefield made such an arrangement necessary. The enemy
had an enormously superior force and it was necessary to guard against
attacks on the flank and the rear. The second line consisted of the
light cavalry, the Macedonian archers, contingents from some of the
half-barbarous tribes which bordered on Macedonia, some veteran Greek
mercenaries and other miscellaneous troops. Some Thracian infantry were
detached to guard the camp and the baggage.
The Persians, with their vastly larger numbers, were, of course,
extended far beyond the Macedonian line. Left to make the attack, they
might easily have turned the flank, or even assailed the rear of their
opponents. Alexander, seeing this, and following the tactics which
had twice proved so successful, took the offensive. He put himself at
the head of the "Companions," who were stationed, as has been said,
on the extreme right, and led them forward in person, still keeping
more and more to the right, and thus threatening the enemy with the
very movement which he had himself reason to dread. He thus not only
avoided the iron spikes, which, as a deserter had warned him, had
been set to injure the Macedonian cavalry, but almost got beyond the
ground which the Persians had caused to be levelled for the operations
of their chariots. Fearful at once of being outflanked and of having
his chariots made useless, Darius launched some Bactrian and Scythian
cavalry against the advancing enemy; Alexander, on the other hand,
detached some cavalry of his own to charge the Bactrians, and the
action began.
The Bactrians commenced with a success, driving back the Greek
horsemen. These fell back on their supports, and advancing again in
increased force, threw the Bactrians into confusion. Squadron after
squadron joined the fray, till a considerable part of the Macedonian
right and of the Persian left wing was engaged. The Persians were
beginning to give way, when Darius saw, as he thought, the time for
bringing the scythed chariots into action, and gave the word for them
to charge, and for his main line to advance behind them. The charge
was made, but failed, almost entirely, of its effect. The Macedonian
archers and javelin-throwers wounded many of the horses; some agile
skirmishers even seized the reins and dragged down the drivers from
their places. Other chariots got as far as the Macedonian line, but
recoiled from the bristling line of outstretched pikes; and the few
whose drivers were lucky enough or bold enough to break their way
through all hindrances were allowed to pass between the Macedonian
lines, without being able to inflict any serious damage. Then Alexander
delivered his counter attack. He ceased his movement to the right.
Wheeling half round, the "Companions" dashed into the open space which
the advance of the Bactrian squadrons had left in the Persian line.
At the same time his own main line raised the battle-cry, and moved
forward. Once within the enemy's ranks he pushed straight for the place
where, as he knew, the battle would be decided, the chariot of the
king. The first defence of that all-important position was the Persian
cavalry. Better at skirmishing than at hand-to-hand fighting, it broke
before his onslaught. Still there remained troops to be reckoned with
who might have made the fortune of the day doubtful, the flower of the
Persian foot and the veteran Greeks. For a time these men held their
ground; they might have held it longer, perhaps with success, but for
the same cause which had brought about the disastrous result of Issus,
the cowardice of Darius. He had been dismayed to see his chariots fail
and his cavalry broken by the charge of the "Companions," and he lost
heart altogether when the dreaded phalanx itself, with its bristling
array of pikes, seemed to be forcing a way through the line of his
infantry and coming nearer to himself. He turned his chariot and fled,
the first, when he should have been the last, to leave his post.
The flight of the king was the signal for a general rout, so far at
least as the centre and left wing of the Persian army was concerned. It
was no longer a battle; it was a massacre. Alexander pressed furiously
on, eager to capture the fugitive Darius. But the very completeness of
his victory, it may be said, hindered him. So headlong was the flight
that the dust, which, after the months of burning summer heat, lay
thick upon the plain, rose like the smoke of a vast conflagration.
The darkness was as the darkness of night. Nothing could be seen, but
all around were heard the cries of fury and despair, the jingling of
the chariot wheels, and the sound of the whips which the terrified
charioteers were plying with all their might.
Nor was Alexander permitted to continue the pursuit. Though the
Persian left, demoralised by the cowardice of the king, had fled, the
right wing had fought with better fortune. It was under the command
of Mazæus, who was probably the ablest of the Persian generals, and
knew how to use his superiority of numbers. Whilst the sturdy Median
infantry engaged the Macedonian front line, Mazæus put himself at
the head of the Parthian horse and charged the flank. Parmenio,
Alexander's ablest lieutenant--his one general, as he was reported to
have said--who was in command, sent an urgent request for help, so hard
pressed did he find himself to be. Alexander was greatly vexed, for
he saw that all chance of capturing Darius was lost, but he knew his
business too well to neglect the demand. He at once called back his
troops from the pursuit, and led them to the help of the left wing.
Parmenio had sent the same message to that division of the phalanx
which had taken part in the advance of the right wing.
As things turned out, however, the help was hardly needed. On the one
hand, the Thessalian cavalry had proved themselves worthy of their old
reputation as the best horsemen in Greece. Held during the earlier
part of the engagement in reserve, they had made a brilliant charge on
the Parthians, and had restored the fortune of the day. And then, on
the other hand, Mazæus and his men had felt the same infection of fear
which the flight of Darius had communicated to the rest of the army.
Parmenio felt the vigour of the enemy's attack languish, though he did
not know the cause, and had the satisfaction of regaining, and more
than regaining, the ground which he had lost, before the reinforcements
arrived.
The day was virtually over, yet the hardest fighting of the battle
was yet to take place. The Parthian cavalry, with some squadrons of
Persian and Indian horse among them, encountered, as they retreated
across the field of battle, Alexander himself and the "Companions."
Their only hope of escape was to cut through the advancing force. It
was no time for tactics, only for a desperate charge for life. Each
man was fighting for himself, and he fought with a fury that made him
a match even for Macedonian discipline and valour. And the enemy had
among them some of the most expert swordsmen in the world. Anyhow,
the "Companions" suffered more severely than they did in any other
engagement in the war. Sixty were slain in the course of a few minutes,
three of the principal officers were wounded, and even Alexander
himself was in serious danger. But the Parthians thought only of saving
their lives, and when they once saw the way clear before them they were
only too glad to follow it.
The Persians achieved one more success. A brigade of Indian and Persian
horse had plunged through a gap which the movement of the phalanx had
left in the line, and attacked the camp. The Thracians who guarded it
were hampered by the number of the prisoners whom they had to watch.
Many of these escaped. The mother of Darius--the effort had been made
for her--might have been one of them, but she refused to go. By this
time some troops had come to the rescue of the camp, and the Persian
cavalry had to fly.
The great battle of Arbela was over. It was the most hardly won as it
was the most conclusive of all Alexander's victories. The Persians made
no further stand. The great enemy of Greece had disappeared from the
stage of history. But we shall find the powerful forces which Persia
represented appear again in another shape.
_BOOK IV_
ROME AND CARTHAGE
I. THE SERVANTS OF MARS
I have had to speak more than once of mercenary troops employed by
the Greek cities in Sicily to help them in their long struggle with
Carthage. The use of such troops was a regular practice with Carthage;
it was only on great occasions that this State put its own citizens
in the field. With the Greeks, on the contrary, it was the exception
to employ any but citizen soldiers. The mercenary was suspected, and
not without reason, of being a ready instrument in the hands of any
unscrupulous person who might be seeking to establish a tyranny. As
time went on, however, he became more and more a necessity. As society
became more complex, the citizen found himself less willing to bear
arms and less capable of doing it. And the exhaustion caused by almost
incessant wars made it necessary to seek elsewhere for men who should
fill up the depleted ranks. Hence the employment of mercenaries even
by free cities. Whatever their use in time of war, these auxiliaries
were naturally difficult to manage or dispose of when peace had been
restored.[14] Such certainly the Syracusans found to be the case
with a body of Italian mercenaries whom Agathocles[15] had had in
his service. They were paid off and peremptorily ordered to return
home. This prospect was not agreeable; it meant a return to regular
and not very profitable labour; they greatly preferred to live by the
sword. They professed, however, to be willing to obey the command, and
accordingly marched in the direction of Italy, intending, it appeared,
to be ferried across the Straits of Messana. Whether they had fixed
on any settled plan, or yielded to the sudden attraction of a chance
that seemed to offer itself, cannot be determined. What we know is
that when they reached Messana, from which they were to have embarked,
and had been imprudently invited within the walls by its citizens,
they seized the town with all that it contained. Here they established
themselves, taking the name of _Mamertini_, or "Servants of Mars"
(_Mamers_ was the Oscan name for the deity known to the Romans as
_Mars_). A similar body held the adjacent mainland, and the two, joined
as they were by an informal alliance of interests, became a formidable
power. They practically lived by robbery by land and sea, and their
existence became an intolerable nuisance to the two powers that shared
Sicily between them. For once the interests of Syracuse and Carthage
were identical. The Syracusan troops inflicted a severe defeat on the
Mamertini, and, with the help of their new allies, closely besieged
their town.
The Mamertini had for some time perceived that they could not stand
alone, but must take sides either with Rome or with Carthage. They were
divided as to the choice, but circumstances inclined them to Rome, and
they sent envoys asking for protection and help. The Senate, to whom
this application was addressed, were not a little perplexed. They had
just inflicted a severe punishment on a body of mercenaries who had
done at Rhegium exactly the same thing that the Mamertini had done at
Messana. They postponed the matter more than once, possibly in the
hope that the necessity of deciding might pass away. But the General
Assembly of the People, to whom the Senate referred the matter--this
dual government had at times its convenience--was not disposed to be
so indifferent. A resolution was passed that the Mamertini were to be
helped, and Appius Claudius, one of the Consuls of the year, was sent
in command of an expedition.
When he arrived, he found the situation considerably changed. There
was a Carthaginian as well as a Roman party among the Mamertini,
and the former had now gained the upper hand. A Carthaginian fleet
was in the harbour and a body of Carthaginian troops in possession
of the citadel. Fortunately for Rome, there was no one of energy or
determination to manage affairs. The officer in command of the fleet
was seized by the pro-Roman faction, and Hanno, who was in charge of
the citadel, consented to evacuate it, if he were allowed to withdraw
with the honours of war. Rome became possessed of Messana without
having to strike a blow. She never lost it--it was not her way to lose
what she had once gained--and she found it a most valuable position.
But the acquisition of Messana meant war with Carthage. Carthage began
by crucifying the unlucky general who had abandoned the citadel, and
then, entering into close alliance with Hiero, invested the city.
Appius Claudius made proposals for peace, which were not accepted. Then
he made a sally from the town and inflicted such a defeat on the enemy
that they raised the siege. The next year Hiero, who had the sagacity
to see that Rome would be a more useful ally than Carthage, changed
sides. Rome had its foot down in Sicily and never took it up.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 14: Xenophon gives in the later books of the _Anabasis_ a
graphic description of the troubles that arose when the "Ten Thousand,"
or such as were left of them (between eight and nine thousand), had
made their way to the coast, and were looking out for employment.]
[Footnote 15: See pp. 120-21.]
II
FOR THE RULE OF THE SEA
I am not going to tell the whole story of the Punic Wars. In each
of them, however, there is something that belongs to my subject. In
the First, with which I am now concerned, there is the extraordinary
effort by which the Romans put themselves in a position to contend with
Carthage for the dominion of the sea. There is nothing quite like it
in history, and nothing, one might say, which more plainly showed the
wonderful fitness of the nation for its great destiny of ruling the
world. Polybius, one of the most thoughtful and judicious of ancient
historians, becomes enthusiastic in his praise of this marvellous
effort. He says: "There could be no more signal proof of their courage,
or rather audacity. They had no resources at all for the enterprise;
they had never even entertained the idea of a naval war--indeed it
was the first time they had thought of it--but they engaged in the
enterprise with such daring that, without so much as a preliminary
trial, they took upon themselves to meet the Carthaginians at sea, on
which they had held for generations an undisputed supremacy." The first
thing, of course, was to build the ships. They had not even a model to
copy, till one of the Carthaginian men-of-war happened to run aground,
and so fell into their hands. And while the ships were being built the
crews which were to man them were being exercised. Sets of rowers'
benches were constructed on dry ground; the crews sat on them as they
would have to sit in actual vessels. In the middle the fugleman, as
we may call him, was stationed. As he gave the signal, they stretched
their bodies and arms forwards, and drew them back again, all in time.
By the time the ships were finished, the crews were as ready as this
kind of teaching could make them. A little practice in actual rowing on
the sea was given them, and then the new fleet entered upon its first
naval campaign.
The first experience of the new force was not encouraging. A squadron
of seventeen ships under one of the Consuls for the year, a Scipio,
great-uncle of a famous man of whom I shall have to speak hereafter,
was shut up in the harbour of Lipara, and had to surrender. The other
Consul was put in command of the fleet and at once set about suiting it
better to the actual conditions of warfare. He had the sagacity to see
that there was more in seamanship than could be acquired by a landsman
in a few weeks, and the object that he set before himself was that
seamanship should not be allowed to count for more than could possibly
be helped. To put the matter shortly, a battle on sea was to be made as
like to a battle on land as could be managed. He adopted accordingly
the suggestion of an ingenious inventor that the ships should be fitted
with boarding-machines, or "crows" (_corvi_), as they afterwards came
to be called. The actual "crow" was a gangway, four feet wide and
thirty-six feet long, with a wooden railing on either side, about the
height of a man's knee. This construction was fastened to a pole,
some twenty-four feet high, that was placed near the bowsprit. It was
fitted with pulleys and ropes so that it could be dropped at pleasure
in any direction that might be convenient. When it was dropped to the
deck of a hostile ship it acted as a grappling-iron, for it was fitted
with a heavy spike which ran into the timber. If the two ships came
together side by side the boarders could scramble over the bulwarks,
and the chief use of the machine was for grappling. If they met prow to
prow the gangway, which was broad enough for two men to pass over it
abreast, became very useful.
When this equipment was complete, Duilius boldly put to sea, sailing
for a spot on the north coast of Sicily where the Carthaginians
were busy plundering. As soon as the Roman fleet came in sight the
Carthaginian admiral--one of the many Hannibals who figure in these
wars--manned his ships, and went out of harbour to meet it. He was
superior in numbers, having 130 ships, while the Romans could have
had but few over 100 (they had built 120 and had lost 17). But it was
on his superiority in seamanship that he most relied. For the Romans
as sailors he had, and not without reason, a profound contempt. So
strong was this feeling of superiority that he did not take ordinary
pains in keeping his ships in order. "He advanced," says Polybius, "as
though he was about to seize an easy prey." He and his officers saw
the "crows," and could not make out what they meant. That there was
anything dangerous about them no one seems to have imagined, for the
Carthaginian captains that led the van of the fleet charged straight
at their antagonists. When they came to close quarters they made a
very discomfiting discovery. Any ship that came into contact with a
Roman vessel was immediately grappled; no sooner had it been grappled
than it was boarded by a number of armed men, and became the scene of
a conflict that was practically the same as if it were being fought
on dry land. The Carthaginian crews were not prepared for this; it is
not improbable that they were insufficiently armed, for they counted
on ramming and sinking their antagonists. Thirty ships were captured
in this way; the rest of the fleet sheered off when they saw what
had happened to the van, and tried to manœuvre, taking the enemy,
if possible, at a disadvantage. They were able, however, to affect
little or nothing. If they were to do any damage to the enemy, they
had, sooner or later, to come into contact with him. But this contact
was very likely to be fatal. The "crow" was promptly dropped, and the
dreaded Romans had to be encountered. Twenty more ships were thus lost,
and the rest were glad enough to make their escape.
This victory was undoubtedly a great achievement, and Rome did not
fail to appreciate it properly. The Consul Duilius became at once one
of the most famous of Roman heroes. He did not perform, possibly had no
opportunity of performing, any other service of much importance, but
the victory of Mylæ established his reputation for ever. A story is
told of the privileges accorded to him in his old age. He had a fancy
for being attended by a couple of flute players when he was returning
home from an entertainment, and though the practice was thought
inconsistent with the simplicity of Roman manners, his fellow-citizens
endured it with patience in consideration of the singular service which
he had rendered to his country.
Nor was the victory at Mylæ a solitary success. Four years afterwards
there was another great sea-fight at Heraclea,[16] on the south coast
of Sicily. The Romans had determined to adopt a policy which, as we
have seen, had been previously followed with success, and to attack
Carthage on her own territory. A very large fleet was collected or
constructed to carry out this purpose. There were, according to
Polybius, 330 ships, each carrying on an average 300 rowers and
sailors and 120 soldiers or marines. This gives a total of nearly
140,000, a huge number which Polybius mentions with astonishment, but
apparently without disbelief. The Carthaginian fleet, which numbered
350 men-of-war, prepared to dispute the passage.
The battle that followed was fiercely contested. The description that
Polybius gives of it is not easy to understand, but the main features
are clear enough. In manœuvring the Carthaginians more than held their
own. Whatever success they won was due to the rapidity and skill with
which they moved; but they could not contend on equal terms with their
antagonists when they had to come to close quarters. "Over thirty" of
their ships were sunk. Polybius does not give, doubtless because he
could not ascertain, a more definite figure, while the Romans lost
twenty-four. So far there was no great disparity. But, on the other
hand, sixty-four Carthaginian men-of-war were captured, whereas not
a single Roman ship was taken. Plainly, when the "crows" could be
brought into use, and the struggle between ship and ship was decided by
hand-to-hand fighting, the old Roman superiority declared itself.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 16: The battle is sometimes spoken of as the battle of
Ecnomus.]
III
THE MARTYR PATRIOT