the treaty described in my last chapter came to be called, Carthage
and Rome continued to live on uneasy terms of mutual suspicion. Rome
dreaded the rapid recovery in power and wealth of her old enemy;
Carthage feared, and doubtless with more reason, the inextinguishable
hatred of the State which she had once brought so near to destruction.
The conditions imposed after Zama had not prevented the accumulation
of wealth in the vanquished city. Her commerce had been left her
untouched; commerce meant a full treasury, and it was with her treasury
that Carthage had always made war. There were two men who had much to
do with embittering this quarrel, though neither of them lived to see
the end which they desired.
Of one of these two, Masinissa, I have already had occasion to speak.
He was the son of a Numidian king, and in early life had been an
energetic ally of Carthage. He served in the Spanish campaigns of
Hasdrubal (brother of Hannibal) with a strong contingent of Numidian
horsemen. Even the defeat of the Metaurus did not shake his loyalty.
In the following year, however, he began to think of changing sides,
and he finally came to an agreement with Scipio that he would do his
best to help the Roman cause, when the war should have been transferred
to Africa. He had strong personal motives for this change. He had
been deprived of the succession to his father's kingdom by the action
of Syphax, a neighbouring potentate who was in close alliance with
Carthage, and he had also seen his promised wife, Sophonisba (daughter
of Hasdrubal Gisco), given to the same rival. Such then were the causes
which made him a prominent actor in the battle of Zama. The Peace of
Hannibal left Masinissa in undisputed possession of his hereditary
dominions, increased by the kingdom of Syphax. For the next fifty years
he was perpetually on the watch to aggrandise himself at the expense of
Carthage. Again and again he seized some desirable region belonging
to that State, was met with protests which he uniformly disregarded,
and was sustained in his usurpation by Rome, whose commissioners were
secretly instructed, we are told, to favour so useful an ally. In 150
B.C. these continual feuds ended in open war. Masinissa, who was still
vigorous and active, though he had reached his eighty-eighth year,
defeated the Carthaginians in a pitched battle. Two years afterwards he
died.
The other persistent enemy of Carthage was M. Porcius Cato, commonly
known as Cato the Censor or Cato the Elder. Born in 234 B.C., Cato was
just of an age to serve in the army when Hannibal invaded Italy. We do
not know whether he was present at any of the great battles, but he was
certainly aide-de-camp to Fabius at the siege of Tarentum in 209. He
never forgot the scenes which he witnessed when Hannibal was ravaging
Italy; and when he had risen to a high place in the State, he devoted
himself to obtaining what he considered a satisfactory vengeance. He
lost no opportunity of impressing upon his countrymen his conviction
that Carthage should not be permitted to exist. It is related of him
that whatever the question before the Senate might be, he would add to
his opinion,[25] "and I also think that Carthage ought to be blotted
out." He died in 149 B.C., in his eighty-fifth year.
It was in this year that the Third Punic War commenced. Cato had
succeeded, it would seem, in the great object of his life. Rome was
determined that Carthage should be blotted out. It is probable, indeed,
that other motives besides the national and political were at work. The
commercial interest was very powerful in Rome, and to this interest
the destruction of a successful rival, which had long commanded most
of the markets of the Mediterranean coast, seemed most desirable.[26]
Anyhow, the terms proposed when the Carthaginian envoys were introduced
into the Senate at Rome were such that it was manifest that war was
determined upon. When the first conditions, onerous as they were, were
accepted, then fresh severities were added. The ultimatum was that
the Carthaginians must give up their city to be destroyed. They would
themselves be spared, and might retain a portion of their property,
but their new habitation must not be within ten miles of the sea. This
was meant to be impossible, and it had the effect which was desired.
When the envoys returned and related the terms which had been finally
imposed, the popular fury burst out. Those who had been prominent in
advising the negotiations for peace were massacred, and the envoys
themselves shared their fate. The Senate, in the face of such a
demonstration, could but come to one decision. It declared war against
Carthage.
It is needless to tell in detail the events of the two first two
campaigns. The Romans led, it would seem, by incompetent generals,
were not so successful as had been expected, and by the close of the
summer of 147 little or no progress had been made. In fact, the Romans
were rather worse off than when they began. Their African allies
began to doubt whether they had chosen the right side. Masinissa's
sons in particular were wavering. They hardly knew, indeed, what to
wish. If Carthage were to fall into the hands of Rome, their own turn
would soon come. Probably the best thing that could happen would be
to have a feeble Carthage, not able to oppress its neighbours, but
still preserving an independent existence as a "buffer-state" between
themselves and Rome.
Then with the appointment of the younger Scipio[27] to the supreme
command of the armies in Africa a great change came over the scene.
He had been serving as a Military Tribune (about equivalent in rank
to a Brigadier-General), and had distinguished himself by his courage
and intelligence. When the elections in Rome came on he went home,
nominally to stand for the Ædileship, but probably with higher views.
He was thirty-seven years of age, and so five years under the legal
age for the Consulship. But to the Consulship he was elected. The
presiding officer protested in vain. The people would have it so, and
the president yielded. And when the ballot for provinces took place,
Scipio's colleague yielded again, and Africa, to which indeed he seemed
to have an hereditary right, was assigned to him.
He sailed at once for Carthage, and began by rescuing one of the
generals who were about to be superseded from a dangerous position
into which his imprudence had led him. Then he set the affairs of the
army in order. The camp was cleared of a crowd of idlers, soldiers'
servants, sutlers, and dealers. Then active operations were begun. A
suburb of the city, called Megara, where the wealthier citizens had
their homes, was taken. It was soon relinquished, indeed, for it was
found too costly to keep, but this success led to the abandonment of
the camp which had been fortified outside the walls, and which was
the first line of defence. The city was now almost invested. On the
land side the blockade was complete, and no more supplies could be
introduced; and now Scipio began to block up the mouth of the harbour.
But here the besieged foiled him. They built a fleet of fifty ships,
and they dug a new channel from the inner harbour to the open sea. The
Romans were taken by surprise. They had no idea that a fleet was being
built, and they saw it for the first time when it issued from a harbour
which was also a new creation. If the Carthaginians had acted at once,
for they found the Roman fleet wholly unprepared for action, they
might at least postponed the end. But they contented themselves with
a demonstration. A day or two after there was a drawn battle between
the two fleets, but when the conflict was renewed on the morrow, the
advantage rested with Rome. But the resources of the besieged were
not exhausted. An attack was made on the city on the land-side, and
battering-rams were brought up to the walls. But the besieged made a
determined sally, drove back the assailants, and burnt their engines.
During the winter Scipio busied himself with cutting off the supplies
that the city still received from the interior. He also routed an army
of native allies which had been gathered for its relief.
In 146 the siege was pressed with renewed vigour. The harbour of the
warships and the Lower City were occupied after a feeble resistance.
Then the Upper City was attacked. The struggle here was long and
fierce; the houses had to be taken one by one. Each was obstinately
defended, in each many non-combatants perished. This was kept on for
seven days and nights. The Romans fought in relief parties; but Scipio
never rested. He snatched such food and sleep as chance threw in his
way, and was never absent from his post of leader. At last nothing
but the citadel was left. A deputation was sent to Scipio offering
to surrender on the single condition that the lives of the prisoners
should be spared. Scipio granted this prayer, but excepted the
deserters. Fifty thousand men, women, and children availed themselves
of the conqueror's mercy, and gave themselves up. Only Hasdrubal and
his family, his chief officers, and the deserters were left. The
citadel was impregnable, but it could be reduced by hunger. Then
Hasdrubal contrived to escape from his companions, and creeping into
the presence of Scipio, begged for his life. This was granted, not
because the suppliant deserved any mercy, but because he could make
himself useful to the conqueror. A tragic scene followed. Hasdrubal's
wife had observed with disgust her husband's pusillanimity. Leading
her two children by the hand, she advanced to the front of the wall.
For Scipio she had no reproaches, but on her husband she invoked every
curse that she had at her command. Then she stabbed her children, threw
them into the flames, for the deserters, resolved not to fall into
Roman hands, had set fire to the citadel, and followed them herself. By
the express orders of the Senate, but against the wishes of Scipio, the
whole city was burnt. He is said to have burst into tears as he looked
on the conflagration, after repeating the well-known lines from the
Iliad (vi. 417-8), in which the great champion of Troy foretells the
doom of the city.
"The day wherein Ilium the holy shall perish, will come; it is near
Unto Priam withal, and the folk of the king of the ashen spear."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 25: The presiding magistrate put the question to every
senator in turn.]
[Footnote 26: The influence of the commercial party may be seen in the
destruction of Corinth in the same year that saw the fall of Carthage;
for the policy followed in the case of Carthage many reasons could be
given, but the destruction of Corinth was certainly indefensible. No
one could pretend that it would ever be dangerous to Rome. The act was
one of commercial jealousy pure and simple.]
[Footnote 27: The younger Scipio was the grandson by adoption, and the
nephew by marriage, of the Elder Scipio. He was the son of L. Æmilius
Paullus, and was adopted by the Elder Scipio's son Publius, whose
feeble health had prevented him from taking any part in public life.
Publius's mother was a sister of Æmilius Paullus, and therefore aunt of
the younger Scipio by blood and grandmother by adoption.]
_BOOK V_
ROME AND THE BARBARIANS. THE RISE
I. THE DAY OF ALLIA
One Roman historian tells us that his countrymen believed that while
their valour could easily overcome all other dangers, a contest with
the Gauls must be for existence and not for fame; another remarks
that the Senate never neglected any tidings that might reach it of a
movement among this people. For such movements there was a special
name,[28] and a special reserve of treasure was laid up in the Capitol
to be employed when this particular danger threatened the State. There
were Gauls, as the classical atlas tells us, on either side of the
Alps. The tribes that dwelt south of the Alps were unquiet neighbours
to the Latin nations, but the real danger arose when a swarm of
invaders from beyond the mountains, moved by the love of adventure, or
driven by famine, descended on the fertile plains of Northern Italy.
The first invasion of which we have any detailed account took place in
the early part of the fourth century B.C.
The true story of this event has, as usual, been not a little overgrown
with legend. It was said that the Gauls, under their king Brennus, were
induced to attack the Etrurian town of Clusium by one of its citizens,
who hoped thus to avenge a private injury inflicted by a powerful noble
who could not be reached by the law.[29] The inhabitants, alarmed by
the formidable appearance of the invading host, sent envoys to Rome
begging for help. Livy tells us that there was no alliance between
the two towns. All that the Clusines could plead was that they had
remained neutral in the long war between Rome and Veii, an Etrurian
town, which it would have been natural to help. The Romans sent envoys
to the Gauls, three brothers belonging to the Fabian house (not a
very likely thing, one would imagine), with a message to this effect:
"Clusium is a friendly State; we must help it even by force of arms,
if that should be necessary, when it is wantonly attacked. But we wish
to avoid war if it is possible. Let the Gauls explain what they want."
The Gallic leaders replied that they too preferred to be on good terms
with the Romans, who, from the fact that their help had thus been
asked, were evidently brave men. What they wanted from the Clusines
was a portion of land. They had more than they could use, whereas the
Gauls had none. The Roman envoys made an indignant reply. "By what
right do you demand land from its lawful possessors; what have you
Gauls to do with an Etrurian town?" "Our rights," said the Gauls, "is
in the point of our swords; as for property, all things belong to the
brave." The conference broke up, and both parties prepared for battle.
In the conflict that ensued the brothers Fabii took a prominent part.
So conspicuous was their valour that it could not but be noticed both
by friend and foe; one of them in particular was recognised as he was
stripping the arms from a Gallic chieftain whom he had slain in single
combat. The Gauls now suspended all hostilities against Clusium.
They were bent on demanding satisfaction from Rome for this gross
offence against the law of nations. The more impetuous spirits were for
marching against the offending city, but the older and more prudent
counsellors prevailed when they suggested that envoys should be sent
to represent their wrongs, and to claim redress. The envoys came, and
were heard by the Senate, which acknowledged the transgression of the
Fabii, but hesitated to accede to the demand that the guilty should be
given up. Unable or unwilling to come to a decision, they referred the
matter to the General Assembly of the People. Here there was little
chance of justice being done. The proposition that these brave nobles
should be given up was at once scouted. The Fabii's were not only not
punished, but were actually elected Military Tribunes[30] for the
ensuing year. No one thought of the step usually taken in an emergency,
the appointment of the ablest soldier available as dictator. Even the
ordinary preparations for meeting a formidable enemy were neglected.
Meanwhile the Gauls were advancing on Rome, thinking of nothing but
vengeance on this insolent city. The appearance of their host terrified
the inhabitants of the country through which they passed, but they did
not turn aside to attack or plunder any of the towns on their route.
They gave it to be understood that all their quarrel was with Rome.
Roused at length to a sense of their danger by the frequent messengers
who came hurrying in from the north the Romans hastily got together
such troops as they could find, and marched out to meet the enemy, who
had now advanced as far as the river Allia, little more than eleven
miles from the city. Livy tells us that the generals formed no camp,
constructed no rampart to protect them in case of a reverse, and
offered no sacrifice. The battle-line had to be widely extended if they
were to be protected against a flanking movement; but this could not be
done without perilously weakening the centre. It mattered, however,
little or nothing what arrangements were or were not made. There was
nothing like a battle; only a blind panic and headlong flight. "No
lives," says Livy, "were lost in battle." But thousands were cut down
in the pursuit, while the fugitives, so densely packed was the throng,
hindered each other from escaping; many perished on the Tiber bank,
where they stood helpless, the enemy behind, the impassable stream in
front; not a few were drowned, some who, unable to swim, yet threw
themselves into the stream, in the wild hope of somehow struggling
through, or, being swimmers, were weighed down by their heavy armour.
Of those who escaped the greater part made their way to Veii. These
neglected to send any tidings of their safety to Rome. Those who
reached Rome did not even stop to shut the gates of the city, but
hurried to take possession of the Capitol.
All this sounds very romantic, not to say improbable. It is strange
to find these barbarous Gauls so strict in demanding an observance of
international laws. And then the battle--there was, indeed, nothing
Roman about it. Where were the three Fabii, all in high command, whose
valour had been so conspicuous at Clusium, but on the Allia are unable
either to rally their soldiers or to strike a blow for themselves?
And the sacrifices--is it credible that so regular a custom, observed
almost mechanically, was for this one occasion omitted? And the
behaviour of the fugitives--what could be more unlikely? If they were
in too great a hurry to shut the city gates, were there no old men
or boys to do it? Livy manifestly piles up every possible neglect or
misdoing to heighten the dramatic contrast between reckless pride and
humiliating defeat. But that a great disaster occurred at the Allia,
it is impossible to doubt. Allia was, indeed, as Virgil calls it,
_infaustum nomen_, an ill-starred name. For centuries afterwards its
anniversary, the 15th of July, _Dies Alliensis_, was marked as one
on which no public business could be transacted. When Tacitus wishes
to describe the height of reckless impiety in Vitellius, one of the
short-lived Emperors who succeeded one another after the fall of the
Julian Cæsars, he says that he was so regardless of all law, human or
divine, that he actually published an edict on the fatal Day of Allia.
The story goes on in the same romantic style. But a sudden change comes
over the whole temper of the nation, from the highest to the lowest.
Impiety, recklessness, and cowardice give place to reverence, prudence,
and constancy. The Capitol, the last hope of Rome, is to be held by
its picked warriors. No one is to consume its scanty stores who cannot
contribute his full share to its defence. The populace obey without a
murmur, and flock out of the city, seeking a refuge where they may, or
remain to await their doom. The old nobles who have borne high office,
consuls, prætors, and senators, will not leave the city but will abide,
each in his robes of office and chair of state, the coming of the foe;
the holy things from temple and shrine are either buried or conveyed to
some place of safety. Now all is dignity as before all was disgrace.
The story goes on in the same romantic style--the venerable old men,
treated at first with reverence, are slaughtered when one of them
resents with a blow of his ivory sceptre a barbarian's too familiar
touch. The Capitol is closely invested, resolutely defended, but almost
lost by the carelessness of the sentries. The besiegers had either
observed the track of one of the messengers who had carried some
communication from the garrison to the outer world, or had discovered
the place where the ascent was not too difficult to attempt. They make
the venture one moonlight night--one would think that the moonlight
would be more of a hindrance than a help--and almost succeed. The watch
has neglected its duty; the very dogs are asleep. But Roman piety
saves the last refuge of Rome. There was a flock of sacred geese in
the temple of Juno, and these had been not only spared but fed, hard
pressed as the garrison had been for food. And now they give warning of
the enemy's approach. Manlius, one of the most distinguished veterans
in the garrison, for he had been Consul, is roused by their clamour,
hurries to the edge of the height, hurls one man down by driving his
shield into his face, slays others, and gives the garrison time to
assemble.
But though the Capitol is not to be taken by force, it cannot stand out
against hunger. Negotiations are opened, for the Gauls have somehow
given it to be understood that they are ready to depart if a sufficient
price can be paid. A thousand pounds weight of gold is agreed upon for
the ransom. As the weighing is going on one of the Romans complains
that the weights are unfair. Thereupon the insolent Gaul throws his
sword into the scale, uttering words that were beyond all bearing to a
Roman ear, "Woe to the vanquished!"
But the gods will not allow the most pious of nations to suffer
this last humiliation. Before the price can be handed over to these
insulting barbarians, the greatest of Roman soldiers appears upon the
scene, orders scales and gold to be removed, bids the Gauls prepare for
conflict, and defeats them, first in the Forum itself, and afterwards
at the eighth milestone from Rome, as completely as they had themselves
routed the Romans at Allia.
We need not endeavour to disentangle the true from the false in this
story. That Roman pride covered a humiliating fall is plain enough, and
we may well doubt the too opportune arrival of the victorious Camillus.
But it is certainly true that Rome recovered with amazing rapidity from
what might well have been an overwhelming blow. In the first three
centuries and a half of her existence Rome has made so little progress
that she has still a rival city not more than ten miles from her gates.
She is reduced to her last stronghold, and has to ransom even that.
Nevertheless in the course of another century and a half she is in
undisputed possession of the whole of Italy. It has been suggested, not
without probability, that the other Italian peoples suffered even more
from this barbarian deluge, and that the Roman arms when once the acute
crisis had passed encountered a less formidable resistance.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 28: _Tumultus._]
[Footnote 29: A very similar story is told of the coming of the Moors
into Spain. It is quite possible that in both cases the invaders may
have received help, in the way of guidance or information, from some
one who had an injury to avenge; but the national movement itself must
have had some deeper and more powerful cause.]
[Footnote 30: These officers, "Military Tribunes with Consular
power," to give their full title, were sometimes elected in place of
the two Consuls. According to Livy this was done nearly fifty times
between the years 445-367 B.C. The arrangement had its origin in the
difficulty between the patricians and the plebeians. The former could
not reconcile themselves to the ideas of a plebeian consul. After
the reconciliation of the two orders by the compromise known as the
_Licinian Rogations_, it was not done again.]
II
APOLLO THE DEFENDER
We need not follow the story of Rome and the Gauls through its details.
Time after time we find them leagued with the nations of Italy, when
these were at war with the great power which was slowly compelling
them either to subjection or to alliance. We find them, for instance,
fighting side by side with the Samnites at Sentinum (295 B.C.), and
with the Etrurians at the Vadimonian Lake (283 B.C.). But they made no
really formidable attack on Rome for a long period after 390. The early
part of the third century B.C. was a period of great unrest among the
tribes on both sides of the Alps. In 279 this culminated in an invasion
of Southern Europe so formidable that though Rome was not immediately
concerned with it, some account of it must be given.