THE BATTLE ON THE ISTHMUS.
The Sacred Phalanx, as described in the last chapter, was undoubtedly a
formidable body of men, one that, rightly handled, might win a battle.
The difficulty was to bring its force to bear. There were, in fact, only
two ways of doing this. One was to break through the lines of
investment which had been drawn across the isthmus; the other was to
transport the troops on shipboard to some place from which they might
operate. Both methods were risky and doubtful, but both offered some
hope of success.
The lines of investment had been hastily made, contained some weak
places, and were not adequately guarded throughout their length. It was
possible that they might be carried at one point or another by a
determined attack. Of the plan of transport by sea it could only be said
that it was not impossible. The new harbour-mouth had, as has been said,
this advantage over the old, that it opened into deep water, where the
blockading ships could find no anchorage. But if in bad weather it
became impossible for the Roman fleet to watch the exit, it was also
impossible, or, to say the least, highly dangerous, for any ship to
venture out.
Hasdrubal determined to try both methods. He divided the phalanx into
three parts. Two of these three were to assault the investing lines at
widely distant points; the third was to try the adventure of transport
by sea. This was by far the most risky undertaking. If the division
succeeded in reaching the spot at which it aimed, there still remained
the problem of getting back. As a matter of fact, there would be no
getting back, except in the event of victory.
For this enterprise, therefore, volunteers were called. The
volunteering, however, was by companies. It would have been against the
principles on which the phalanx was constituted for any one soldier to
leave the comrades to whom he was bound, either by their choice or by
his own. But about the volunteering there was no difficulty. Twenty
companies only were wanted, for more could not be safely accommodated in
the transports, but double the number could easily have been obtained.
The force was put under the command of an officer who had a high
reputation for dashing courage, another of the numerous Hasdrubals, who,
it might almost be said, swarmed in Carthage. Cleanor was commissioned
to act as his _aide-de-camp_.
Of the attack on the lines of investment little need be said. It was not
wholly a failure, but it was certainly not a success. Stubborn as was
the resistance offered by the Romans, the assailants broke through the
lines at several points. At one time as many as seven or eight companies
found themselves on the further side of the intrenchment, with somewhat
diminished numbers indeed, but still substantially intact. Yet, for the
most part, the line was still held by the besiegers. If the object of
the Carthaginians had been to cut their way through the blockading
force, it was accomplished. At various points the way out of Carthage
lay open, and it would have been possible for at least a large portion
of the force to escape.
But much more than this was wanted, nothing less, in fact, than that the
investment should practically cease to exist, that the besieged should
be free to go and to return as they pleased. Nothing like this had been
achieved. Those who, after a fierce struggle, had forced their way
through to the open country, would have to struggle not less fiercely to
force their way back. Hasdrubal could not afford to run the risk. The
loss of such a force meant ruin to Carthage, which no longer possessed
its old powers of recovery. He reluctantly ordered the signal of recall
to be sounded, and the troops still more reluctantly obeyed.
The division to which Cleanor was attached fared better, so far, at
least, as to reach the field of battle. It was exceptionally fortunate
in both embarking and landing without hindrance. A strong sea-wind had
been blowing for some days, and the blockading squadron had been
compelled to leave the harbour-mouth unwatched. Then came a sudden
change of weather, and the troops, who had been bivouacking for two days
on the chance of some such opportunity occurring, were hurried on
shipboard, and had actually reached their destination before the Roman
ships had put to sea again.
The march to the place of meeting was effected without molestation, and
a junction was made with the native allies. Diogenes, too, did not fail
to perform his part in the concerted plan, arriving exactly at the right
moment with a picked force of a thousand mercenaries. But the hope that
something towards the relief of Carthage might be effected by this
combination of forces was entirely disappointed. The native allies made
one charge, but only one. Twenty thousand horsemen came down the
incline, at the foot of which the Roman army was drawn up, at a gallop,
their white burnooses streaming behind them, and their spear-points
flashing in the sun.
Cleanor always said that it was the most magnificent spectacle that he
ever saw. Some of King Gulussa's squadrons were swept away by the
impetuous rush of a multitude which outnumbered them many times. But the
line of the Roman legions--there were three of them on the field, for
Scipio had brought all his available force into action--did not waver
for an instant. A few of the boldest riders hurled themselves on the
Roman pikes. But not so much as a single gap was made in the ranks.
Almost in a moment the huge array--like some great animal which exhausts
its strength and spirit in one struggle--broke into hopeless confusion.
Then the Roman cavalry, with the reserved squadrons of Numidian horse,
charged the helpless mass.
The slaughter that followed was terrible. It was said that seventy
thousand mountaineers were left dead on the battle-field. That is
impossible. Many of the tribesmen fled as soon as they saw that the day
was not to be theirs, and these must have secured such a start as to
make their escape easy. But the victorious cavalry went on slaying till
their arms were weary.
The safety of the mercenaries and the third division of the phalanx was
now seriously compromised. They had, fortunately, effected a junction
before the battle began, and it was of course a necessity that they
should keep together. So much was certain, but it was not equally
certain what was the best course for them to follow. The Carthaginians
were anxious to return, if return was in any way possible, to the city.
Their families, their friends, everything in fact that they held dear
was there; it was only too probable that unless they got back at once
they would never see the city or them again. The mercenaries, on the
other hand, were bent on returning to the fortress of Nepheris, from
which they had sallied forth. The fortress was near, so near that the
legions could not bar their way, though the light-armed troops and the
cavalry might molest them on the march.
A hurried council of war was held; there was no time for discussion.
Each officer--there were seven of rank to vote--gave his decision
without reasons. Considerations of safety, which were overwhelmingly
strong in favour of a retreat on the fortress of Nepheris, carried the
day. Five voted for this course, and a sixth, who had originally
declared for cutting their way through to Carthage, changed his mind
when he saw himself in a small minority.
Only Hasdrubal was left in opposition. "I swore to defend Carthage, not
Nepheris," he exclaimed. Then, with an unconscious imitation of the
obstinate Spartan at Platæa, he took a huge stone from the ground
and threw it down in front of him, saying, "I give my vote for
remaining."[39]
Cleanor's private opinion was that his chief's obstinacy was nothing
else than madness, but he could not leave the general to whose person he
had been attached.
If Hasdrubal had thought that his opposition would determine the action
of his colleagues he was mistaken. Without a word--and indeed there was
no time for argument--they moved off in the direction of the fortress.
Hasdrubal was brought to his senses by this decisive action, just as the
Spartan had been before him. Nor could he mistake the meaning of the
agitation that at once showed itself among his men. It was not difficult
to see that he would soon be left almost alone.
Accordingly he gave the signal to march. Some time, however, had been
lost, and a number of light-armed troops from the Roman army were within
a short distance of the retreating force. It became necessary, if their
attacks were to be checked, for the rear ranks to face about. There was
little or no actual fighting. The pursuers fell back as soon as the
retreating division showed them a firm front. Their object was to cause
as much delay as possible; the Carthaginians, on the other hand, had to
solve the problem of making these necessary halts interfere as little as
possible with the rapidity of their retreat. In this they were greatly
helped by their high discipline and what may be called their perfect
coherence, and they had actually got almost within a bow-shot of the
rock-fortress when they had to turn, as they hoped, for the last time.
There was now some really sharp fighting. The pursuers had been
reinforced by a detachment of picked troops from the main body, men
chosen for the speed with which they could move under a heavy equipment
of armour and arms. The Carthaginians fell slowly back before them,
keeping an unbroken line, and encouraged by the thought that if they
could get within range of the walls they would be in comparative safety.
Nor was this hope disappointed. The Romans, indeed, pressed on, for the
walls were to all appearance deserted, but this appearance concealed a
carefully concerted surprise. Hundreds of archers and slingers were
crouching behind the battlements, and there were scores of catapults,
with their range carefully adjusted, ready to discharge volleys of
stones and javelins. At a given signal, fire, if the expression may be
allowed, was opened with overwhelming effect. The Roman line absolutely
staggered under the blow. At the same time the gates were thrown open,
and before the enemy could recover, the whole of the retreating force
was safe within the walls.
But when, an hour or so afterwards, the roll was called, Cleanor was
among the missing.
FOOTNOTE:
39: "At Platæa Pausanias commanded the Spartans to change their
position. All the captains but one were ready to obey, but
Amompharetus refused to move. 'I will not fly,' he said, 'before
the strangers, nor bring disgrace upon Sparta.' After a while
the Athenians sent a horseman to learn why the Spartans did not
change their place as had been agreed upon. When the man came up
the dispute was waxing hot, and Amompharetus took up with both
hands a huge stone, and put it at the feet of the general,
saying, 'With this pebble (_psephos_) I give my vote not to fly
from the strangers.' At last the general gave the signal for
retreat, expecting that Amompharetus and his men would not like
to be left behind. And so indeed it turned out, for, when he saw
the rest of the army in motion, he also left his place and
followed them" (Herod. ix. 53-5).