Transcriber's note: Italics text is denoted by _underscores_.
LORDS OF THE WORLD
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| BY A. J. CHURCH. |
| |
| _In crown 8vo. Cloth elegant. Illustrated. 6s._ |
| |
| Two Thousand Years Ago |
| |
| Or, The Adventures of a Roman Boy. |
| |
| |
| "Adventures well worth the telling. The book is extremely |
| entertaining as well as useful, and there is a wonderful |
| freshness in the Roman scenes and characters."--_Times._ |
| |
| "Entertaining in the highest degree from beginning to |
| end, and full of adventure."--_Spectator._ |
| |
| "We know of no book which will do more to make the Romans |
| of that day live again for the English render." |
| --_Guardian._ |
| |
| |
| LONDON: BLACKIE & SON, LIMITED, 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C. |
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LORDS OF THE WORLD
A STORY OF
THE FALL OF CARTHAGE AND CORINTH
BY THE
REV. ALFRED J. CHURCH
Author of "Two Thousand Years Ago" "Stories from Homer", &c.
_WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY RALPH PEACOCK_
LONDON
BLACKIE & SON, LIMITED, 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C.
GLASGOW AND DUBLIN
1898
[Illustration: "FASTEN HIS HANDS, AND FIRMLY TOO; THAT YOUTH MIGHT GIVE
US TROUBLE."]
PREFACE.
The year 146 B.C. was an _annus mirabilis_ in the development of Roman
dominion. Of course it had long been a foregone conclusion that Carthage
and Corinth must fall before her, but the actual time of their overthrow
was made all the more striking by the fact that both cities perished in
the same year, and that both were visited by the same fate. I have
attempted in this story to group some picturesque incidents round the
person of a young Greek who struggles in vain to resist the destiny of
the conquering race. The reader will also find some suggestion of the
thought which the Roman historian had in his mind when he wrote:
"Carthage, the rival of the Roman Empire, perished root and branch, sea
and land everywhere lay open before us, when at last Fortune began to
rage against us and throw everything into confusion". The day when Rome
rid herself of her rivals seemed to some of her more thoughtful sons to
be the first of her corruption and decline.
A. J. C.
ASHLEY,
_April 22, 1897_.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. Page
I. THE FATE OF THE _MELCART_, 11
II. CLEANOR, SON OF LYSIS, 20
III. THE LAST OF A VETERAN, 26
IV. SCIPIO, 41
V. A GREAT SCHEME, 48
VI. THE MISSION, 61
VII. THE LAST OF THE GREEKS, 70
VIII. THE CORINTHIAN ASSEMBLY, 82
IX. AT THERMOPYLÆ, 93
X. A PINCHBECK ALEXANDER, 109
XI. THE TWO HASDRUBALS, 125
XII. SCIPIO SETS TO WORK, 138
XIII. IN THE ROMAN CAMP, 149
XIV. THE MEGARA, 155
XV. THE PRISONERS, 165
XVI. BAAL HAMMON, 179
XVII. MOVE AND COUNTERMOVE, 198
XVIII. HELP FROM THE HILLS, 206
XIX. THE BATTLE ON THE ISTHMUS, 213
XX. TREACHERY, 222
XXI. POLYBIUS, 230
XXII. A PLEASURE TRIP, 241
XXIII. DIPLOMACY, 253
XXIV. IN SORE NEED, 266
XXV. A REFUGE IN THE STORM, 276
XXVI. THE STORMING OF THE UPPER CITY, 284
XXVII. A PRECIOUS BOOK, 297
XXVIII. THE END OF CARTHAGE, 309
XXIX. AT DELOS, 317
XXX. CORINTH, 326
XXXI. MUMMIUS, 336
XXXII. THE SLAVE-DEALER, 342
XXXIII. TO ITALY, 351
XXXIV. AT MISENUM, 355
XXXV. THE WORLD WELL LOST, 369
XXXVI. BEYOND THE SUNSET, 378
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page
"FASTEN HIS HANDS, AND FIRMLY TOO; THAT YOUTH MIGHT GIVE
US TROUBLE," _Frontispiece._ 26
"THE OLD KING, THOUGH HIS EYES WERE OPEN, DID NOT SEEM
TO SEE CLEANOR," 39
THE ROMAN ENVOYS TO CORINTH ARE COMPELLED TO LEAVE THE
AMPHITHEATRE, 92
THE MACEDONIAN PRETENDER PERFORMS THE PYRRHIC DANCE, 119
"DO YOU YIELD?" SAID CLEANOR WHEN THE ROMAN HAD
REACHED THE SHORE, 164
"THE HIGH PRIEST PLACED THE SACRIFICE ON THE OUTSTRETCHED
ARMS OF THE GOD," 196
"I SAW YOU STOOP AND LIFT YOUR COMPANION FROM THE
GROUND," 226
"CLEANOR PRODUCED FROM THE PACK WHICH HE CARRIED SOME
TWICE-BAKED BREAD," 271
THE LADY SALAMO DEFIES THE ROMANS FROM THE WALLS OF
CARTHAGE, 295
"SCIPIO, THROWING HIS TOGA OVER HIS FACE, BURST INTO A
PASSION OF TEARS," 317
A CORINTHIAN NOBLEMAN BEING SOLD AS A SLAVE IN THE
MARKET-PLACE, 333
"HALF AN HOUR AFTERWARDS CLEONÉ EMERGED AS A BRILLIANT
YOUNG BEAUTY," 367
LORDS OF THE WORLD.
CHAPTER I.
THE FATE OF THE _MELCART_.
The _Melcart_, the sacred ship of Carthage, was on its homeward voyage
from Tyre, and had accomplished the greater part of its journey in
safety; in fact, it was only a score or so of miles away from its
destination. It had carried the mission sent, year by year, to the
famous shrine of the god whose name it bore, the great temple which the
Greeks called by the title of the Tyrian Hercules. This was too solemn
and important a function to be dropped on any pretext whatsoever. Never,
even in the time of her deepest distress, had Carthage failed to pay
this dutiful tribute to the patron deity of her mother-city; and,
indeed, she had never been in sorer straits than now. Rome, in the early
days her ally, then her rival, and now her oppressor, was resolved to
destroy her, forcing her into war by demanding impossible terms of
submission. Her old command of the sea had long since departed. It was
only by stealth and subtlety that one of her ships could hope to
traverse unharmed the five hundred leagues of sea that lay between her
harbour and the old capital of Phoenicia. The _Melcart_ had hitherto
been fortunate. She was a first-rate sailer, equally at home with the
light breeze to which she could spread all her canvas and the gale which
reduced her to a single sprit-sail. She had a picked crew, with not
a slave on the rowing benches, for there were always freeborn
Carthaginians ready to pull an oar in the _Melcart_. Hanno, her captain,
namesake and descendant of the great discoverer who had sailed as far
down the African coast as Sierra Leone itself, was famous for his
seamanship from the Pillars of Hercules to the harbours of Syria.
The old man--it was sixty years since he had made his first voyage--was
watching intently a dark speck which had been visible for some time in
the light of early dawn upon the north-western horizon. "Mago," he said
at last, turning to his nephew and lieutenant, "does it seem to you to
become bigger? your eyes are better than mine."
"Not that I can see," answered the young man.
"She hardly would gain upon us if she has no more wind than we have.
Well, I shall go below, and have a bite and a sup."
He wetted his finger and held it up. "It strikes me," he went on, "that
the wind, if you can call it a wind, has shifted half a point. Tell the
helmsman to put her head a trifle to the north. Perhaps I may have a
short nap. But if anything happens, call me at once."
Something did happen before ten minutes had passed. When Mago had given
his instructions to the helmsman, and had superintended a slight
shifting of the canvas, he looked again at the distant ship. It had
become sensibly larger. The wind had freshened out at sea, and was
rapidly bringing the stranger nearer. Mago hurried below to rouse his
uncle. The old man was soon up on deck.
"I wish we were ten miles nearer home," he muttered, after taking a long
look into the distance. "Get the oars out. If she is an enemy, and wants
to cut us off, half a mile may make all the difference."
The order was promptly obeyed, and the rowers bent to their work with a
will. But all the will in the world could not make the _Melcart_ move
very fast through the water. She was stoutly built, as became a ship
that had to carry a precious burden through all weather, and she was
foul with the long sea-voyage. The goal of the race between her and the
stranger, which could now be seen to be a Roman ship-of-war, was a
headland behind which, as Hanno knew, was the harbour of Chelys. Let her
reach that and she was safe. But it seemed as if this was not to be. The
Roman ship had what wind there was right aft, and, notwithstanding all
the efforts of the _Melcart's_ crew, moved more rapidly through the
water. She would manifestly cut off the _Melcart_ before the headland
was reached. But Hanno was not yet at the end of his resources.
"Call Mutines," he said to his lieutenant.
Mutines was a half-caste Carthaginian, whose thick lips, flat nose, and
woolly hair indicated a negro strain in his blood. "Mutines," said the
old man, "you used to have as good an aim with the catapult as any man
in Carthage. If your hand has not lost its cunning, now is the time to
show your skill. Knock that rascal's steering-gear to pieces, and there
is a quarter-talent for you."
"I will do my best, sir," said Mutines; "but I am out of practice, and
the machine, I take it, is somewhat stiff."
The catapult, which was of unusual size and power, had been built, so to
speak, into the ship's forecastle. It could throw a bolt weighing about
75 lbs., and its range was 300 yards. While Mutines was preparing the
engine, word was passed to the rowers that they were to give six strokes
and no more. That, as Mutines reckoned, would be enough to bring him
well within range of the enemy. The calculation was sufficiently exact.
When the rowers stopped, the two ships, having just rounded the
headland, were divided by about 350 yards. The impetus of the _Melcart_
carried her over about 100 more. When she was almost stationary Mutines
let fly the bolt. He had never made a happier shot. The huge bullet
carried away both the tillers by which the steering-paddles were worked.
The ship fell away immediately, and the _Melcart_, for whose rowers the
fugleman set the liveliest tune in his repertory, shot by, well out of
range of the shower of arrows which the Roman archers discharged at her.
In the course of a few minutes she had reached the harbour of Chelys.
But her adventures were not over. The captain of the Roman ship was
greatly enraged at the escape of his prey. To capture so famous a prize
would mean certain promotion, and he was not prepared to resign his
hopes without an effort to realize them. As soon as the steering-gear
had been temporarily repaired, he called his sailing-master, and
announced his intention of following the Carthaginian into the harbour.
The man ventured on a remonstrance. "It's not safe, sir," he said; "I
don't know the place, but I have heard that the water is shallow
everywhere except in the channel of the stream."
"You have heard my orders," returned the captain, who was a Claudius,
and had all the haughtiness and obstinacy of that famous house. The
sailing-master had no choice but to obey.
Chelys, so called from the fancied resemblance of its site to the shape
of a tortoise, was a small Greek settlement which lay within the region
dominated by Carthage. It was a place of considerable antiquity--older,
its inhabitants were fond of asserting, than Carthage itself. For some
years it had maintained its independence, but as time went by this
position became more and more impossible. Had Chelys possessed any
neighbours of the same race, a league might have given her at least a
chance of preserving her freedom. But she stood absolutely alone,
surrounded by Phoenician settlements, and she had no alternative but
to make her submission to her powerful neighbour. She obtained very
favourable terms. She was free from tribute, no slight privilege, in
view of the enormous sums which the ruling city was accustomed to exact
from her dependencies.[1] She was allowed to elect her own magistrates,
and generally to manage her own affairs. To contribute a small
contingent to the army and navy of the suzerain state was all that was
demanded of her. It was natural, therefore, that Chelys should be loyal
to Carthage--far more loyal, in fact, than most of that city's
dependencies. Rome, which had more than once exacted a heavy sum as the
price of the little town's immunity from ravage, she had no reason to
like.
The incident described above had taken place within full view of the
piers and quays of Chelys. The excited population which crowded them had
hailed with an exulting shout the fortunate shot that had crippled the
Roman vessel, and had warmly welcomed the _Melcart_ as she glided into
the shelter of the harbour. Their delight was turned into rage when it
became evident that the enemy was intending to pursue her. The insolent
audacity of the proceeding excited the spectators beyond all bounds.
Stones and missiles of all kinds were showered upon the intruders. As
the ship was within easy range of the quays on both sides of the
harbour, which was indeed of very small area, the crew suffered heavily.
Claudius perceived that he had made a mistake, and gave orders to the
rowers to back, there not being space enough to turn. It was too late,
and when a huge pebble, aimed with a fatal accuracy, struck down the
steersman from his place, the doom of the _Melicerta_--for this was the
name of the Roman ship--was sealed. A few moments afterwards she
grounded.
This was, of course, the signal for a determined attack. Hundreds of men
waded through the shallow water and climbed over the bulwarks. The crew
made a brave resistance, but they were hopelessly outnumbered and were
cut down where they stood. The magistrates of the city happened to be in
consultation in the town-hall. Disturbed in the midst of their
deliberations by the sudden uproar they hurried down to the water-side,
but were too late to save any but a very few lives. Claudius had stabbed
himself when he saw how fatal a mistake he had made.
Chelys was, of course, in a tumult of delight at its brilliant success
in destroying a Roman ship-of-war. Its responsible rulers, however, were
very far from sharing this feeling. A defenceless city, and Chelys was
practically such, for its walls, never very formidable, had been
suffered to fall into decay, must take no part in the hostilities of a
campaign. So long as it observes this neutrality it is really better off
than a fortified town, but to depart from this policy is sheer madness.
The magistrates did all they could. They sent back the few prisoners
whom they had been able to rescue from the hands of the populace, to the
commander of the squadron to which the _Melicerta_ had belonged. They
offered to pay an indemnity. They went so far as to promise that the
ringleaders of the riot should be handed over for trial. The Roman
admiral, a Flamininus[2], and so belonging to a family that had more
than once made itself notorious for unusual brutality, would not hear of
making any conditions. He determined upon a vengeance which was not the
less pleasing because it would be as lucrative as it was cruel. Chelys
was to be visited with the severest penalty known in warfare--all the
male inhabitants of the military age and over were to be put to death,
the women and children were to be sold as slaves. The slaves from
Chelys, as Flamininus, a shrewd and unscrupulous man of business, well
knew, would fetch a high price. They were Greeks, if not of the purest
blood, and while barbarians in any number could be easily obtained,
Greek slaves were a rare article in the market.
His resolve once taken, Flamininus took every precaution that its
execution should be as complete as possible. The magistrates, who had
come to intercede for their countrymen, were detained; no hint of what
was intended was allowed to reach the doomed city. Landing the half
legion of marines which the squadron carried he occupied in irresistible
force Chelys and all the roads by which it could be approached or left.
His next step was to make what may be called an inventory of the prey
which had fallen into his hands. The census roll of citizens was
seized, and information about their families was purchased from some
prisoners who were willing thus to redeem their lives. A few wealthy men
and women were allowed to ransom themselves at the highest prices that
could be extorted from their fears; and then, when a few days had been
allowed for the assembling of the slave-dealers, who, with other animals
of prey, human and non-human, followed the armies and fleets of Rome,
Flamininus allowed the deputation to return, and proceeded to execute
his sentence.
FOOTNOTES:
1: One paid a talent (£215) per day, making an annual amount,
allowing for the difference in the value of money, of not less
than a quarter of a million.
2: C. Flamininus was degraded from the Senate for killing a
captive in cold blood to entertain his company at dinner.