A.C. 146.

The siege of Carthage seemed to seal the fate of that great and ambitious republic. Whilst we have had to record so many sieges of Rome, we have only one to describe of her great rival, and that closed the career of that rival. Proud, wealthy, and, as the Romans would add, false Carthage, was never annoyed by the invasion of her capital, till Rome had so risen in the ascendant that Carthage must necessarily sink: and then she did sink, like a tropical sun, without twilight. Whether it is with the great captain, Hannibal, or with the powerful nation to which he did so much honour, that our sympathies are attached, we cannot say, but we acknowledge to feeling a greater interest for the Carthaginians throughout all the Punic wars than we do for the Romans. Besides, Carthage has no native historians, it was blotted from the map of nations, and we have reason to receive with suspicion much that the Latin, or even the Greek writers—for Carthage was generally at variance with Greece—may say on the subject of “Punica fides.” Before we commence this memorable siege, it will be well to give our readers a short account of what Carthage was at this period. At the beginning of the war, Carthage contained seven hundred thousand inhabitants. It stood at the bottom of a gulf, surrounded by the sea, and in the form of a peninsula, whose neck,—that is, the isthmus which joined it to the continent,—was twenty-five stadia, or a league and a quarter, in breadth. The peninsula was three hundred and sixty stadia, or eighteen leagues round. On the west side there projected from it a long strip of land, half a stadium, or twelve fathoms, broad, which, advancing into the sea, divided it from a morass, and was fenced on all sides with rocks and a single wall. On the south side, towards the continent, where stood the citadel called Byrsa, the city was surrounded with a triple wall thirty cubits high, exclusive of the parapets and towers, with which it was flanked all round at equal distances, each interval being fourscore fathoms. Every tower was four stories high, and the stalls but two; they were arched, and in the lower part were stalls to hold three hundred elephants, with their fodder; and over these were stables for four thousand horses, and lofts for their food. There likewise was room enough to lodge twenty thousand foot and four thousand horse. All these were contained within the walls alone. In one place only the walls were weak and low, and that was a neglected angle, which began at the neck of land above mentioned, and extended as far as the harbours, which were on the west side. Of these there were two, which communicated with each other, but had only one entrance, seventy feet broad, shut up with chains: the first was appropriated to the merchants, and had several distinct habitations for the seamen; the second, or inner harbour, was for ships of war, in the midst of which stood an island, called Cothon, lined, as the harbours were, with large quays, in which were distinct receptacles for sheltering from the weather two hundred and twenty ships. Over these were magazines or storehouses, wherein was lodged everything necessary for arming and equipping fleets. The entrance to each of these receptacles was adorned with two marble pillars of the Ionic order; so that both the harbour and the island represented on each side two magnificent galleries. In the island was the admiral’s palace; and as it stood opposite to the mouth of the harbour, he could thence discover whatever was doing at sea, though no one could see what was being transacted in the inward parts of the harbour. The merchants, in like manner, had no prospect of the men-of-war, the two ports being separated by a double wall, each having a particular gate that led to the city, without passing through the other harbour. So that Carthage may be divided into three parts: the harbour, which was double, and was called Cothon, from the little island of that name; the citadel, named Byrsa; and the city properly so called, where the inhabitants dwelt, which lay round the citadel, and was called Megara.

The existence of Carthage constantly reminded the Romans of the fatal days of CannÆ and Thrasymenus; Rome dreaded to see her rival rise again from the state of humiliation to which her arms had reduced her. To free themselves from all apprehension for the future, the senate determined to annihilate Carthage, and sent thither a formidable army, under the command of the two consuls. In this circumstance, we find one of the most striking instances of political expediency overpowering the sense of justice in a great mind. Cato the Censor, a wise, good, and just man, was the principal promoter of this infamous infraction of the rights of nations and humanity. To judge of Cato by all the other parts of his character, we might as well expect to see FÉnelon presiding over an auto-da-fÈ, as to find the great censor constantly urging the necessity for the destruction of Carthage.

At the approach of the Romans, the Carthaginians sent out deputies to offer to give up to the great republic, themselves and all that belonged to them. Hannibal, it is true, had long been dead; but one would think his very remembrance would have stimulated such a populous nation to some show of resistance to the tyranny of a people they had more than once beaten. Hostages and all their arms were demanded as proofs of their submission. This severe order was complied with: a long train of chariots arrived at the Roman camp, bearing an immense quantity of arms and machines of war. The most respectable old men of the senate of Carthage, with the most venerable priests, followed this melancholy cortÈge, to endeavour to excite compassion. “I praise your promptitude,” said Censorinus, one of the consuls; “and the senate now commands you to leave Carthage, which it is determined to destroy, and to remove your abode whithersoever it may please you, provided it be four leagues from the sea-shore.” This was a clap of thunder for the deputies. In vain they endeavoured to soften the Romans by their prayers and tears; they were forced to carry this terrible reply back to Carthage. At this news, despair and rage possessed the citizens, and it was resolved to sacrifice everything for the defence of their country. Asdrubal had the command of the troops, and every expedition was employed to fabricate new arms and machines. Temples, palaces, and all public places became so many workshops; men, women, children, and the aged worked in them day and night. Grave historians say that hemp for the manufacture of ropes being deficient, the women cut off their hair and supplied a substitute in abundance. But we consider this to be one of the pleasing “lies” of history. If we calculate how many of our fair damsels must be shorn of this their principal ornament to make one cable, we may judge of the probability of the story. During two years, the Romans made but little progress; they even experienced several checks and losses. It seemed to require another Scipio to terminate the wars in which the heroes of his family had been so successful. No name is more honoured in Roman history than that of Scipio; and our young readers must be particularly careful not to confound the various persons who bore it with one another; for there were many Romans, and most of them of superior character, who were honoured with it. The real family name was Cornelius, and the addition Scipio was what we should now call a sobriquet, or nickname, given to the first so called for serving as a staff to his blind father; Scipio being the Latin for a walking-stick. Many boasted names and titles have a less honourable source. This Scipio was, of course, not the conqueror of Hannibal; he is therefore termed Scipio Africanus the younger. He was the son of the great Paulus Æmilius, the conqueror of Perseus, and was adopted by the son of the first Scipio Africanus, and called Scipio Æmilianus, according to the laws of adoption. The two families, by marriages and adoptions, were almost one. Scipio Africanus the younger is one of the finest characters of antiquity; and if the reputation of Polybius the historian were not fully established for its truthfulness, we might almost suspect the picture we have of it to be too favourable. But really great historical characters escape from the charge of partiality in their biographers by means of their actions; history tells us how they affected the periods at which they lived, and either bears out or contradicts the record of the individuals. Where there are several persons in remote history of one name, their conspicuous actions are not unfrequently all given to one. There were many Hercules, but all their labours are laid upon the broad shoulders of one of them: so with the Scipios: the younger Africanus is such a favourite with ancient writers, that modern readers sometimes confound him with his senior of that name. We shall only observe, that though quite capable of such an action, it was not he who restored Allucius his beautiful bride.

Scipio, being proclaimed consul, immediately took the command of the army before Carthage. He found everything in disorder; discipline was relaxed, and luxury of every kind was indulged in. These evils were his first care; but these he speedily cured by the best of all possible means,—the example of his own attention to his duties, and his temperate mode of living.

As soon as that first of military requisites, discipline, was re-established, he at once proceeded to action. Having ordered his troops to provide themselves with axes, levers, and scaling-ladders, he led them, in the dead of the night and without noise, to the district of the city called Megara, where, commanding them to give a sudden and general shout, he commenced the attack with great vigour. Not expecting a night assault, the Carthaginians were at first in the utmost terror; they, however, defended themselves so courageously, that Scipio could not carry out his escalade; but, perceiving a tower that was forsaken, and which stood very near the city walls, he detached thither a party of intrepid and active soldiers, who, by the help of pontoons, got from the tower on to the walls, and thence into Megara, the gates of which they broke down. Scipio entered it immediately after, and drove the enemy out of that post. Terrified at this unexpected assault, and imagining that the whole city was taken, they fled into the citadel, whither they were followed even by those forces that were encamped without the city, who abandoned their camp to the Romans, and were glad to find a place of safety.

At daybreak, Asdrubal, perceiving the ignominious defeat of his troops, in order to be revenged upon the Romans and to deprive the inhabitants of all hopes of accommodation and pardon, brought all the Roman prisoners he had taken, upon the walls, in sight of both armies. There he put them to the most exquisite tortures, plucking out their eyes, cutting off their noses, ears, and fingers; tearing their skin from their bodies with iron rakes or harrows, and then threw them from the top of the battlements. Such inhumanity filled the Carthaginians even with horror; he, however, did not spare them, but murdered many senators who had ventured to oppose his cruelty and tyranny. This was a worthy descendant of the Carthaginians who in the first Punic war tortured Regulus.

Scipio, finding himself master of the isthmus, burnt the camp the enemy had deserted, and built a new one for his troops. It was of a square form, surrounded with strong and deep intrenchments, and fenced with large palisades; on the side which faced the Carthaginians, he built a wall twelve feet high, flanked at proper distances with towers and redoubts; and on the middle tower he erected a very high wooden fort, whence everything could be seen that was going on in the city. This wall was equal to the whole breadth of the isthmus,—that is, twenty-five stadia. The enemy, who were within bow-shot of it, employed their utmost efforts to put a stop to this work; but as the whole army were engaged in it night and day without intermission, it was finished in twenty-four days. Scipio reaped a double advantage from this work: first, his forces were lodged more safely and commodiously; secondly, he cut off all supplies of provisions from the besieged, to whom none could now be brought but by sea, which was attended with many difficulties, arising from the frequency of tempests and the good guard kept by the Roman fleet. This proved one of the chief causes of the famine which raged soon after in the city. Besides, Asdrubal distributed the corn that was brought only among the thirty thousand men who served under him, caring little what became of the rest of the inhabitants.

To complete their distress for provisions, Scipio attempted to stop up the mouths of the haven by a mole, beginning at the neck of land which was near the harbour. The besieged at first looked upon this attempt as ridiculous, and amused themselves with laughing at and insulting the workmen; but at last, seeing them make an astonishing progress every day, they began to be afraid, and to adopt measures to defeat the undertaking. Every one, even the women and children, went to work, but so privately, that all that Scipio could learn from the prisoners was, that they had heard a great noise in the harbour, but did not know the cause of it. At length, all things being ready, the Carthaginians opened on a sudden a new outlet on the other side of the haven, and appeared at sea, with a numerous fleet built with the old materials found in their magazines. It is generally allowed that, had they attacked the Roman fleet directly, they must infallibly have taken it; because, as no such attempt was expected and every man was elsewhere employed, the Carthaginians would have found it without rowers, soldiers, or officers. But the ruin of Carthage, says the historian, was decreed. Having offered a kind of bravado to the Romans, they returned into the harbour.

Two days after, they brought forward their ships with an intention of fighting in good earnest, but found the enemy ready for them. This battle was to determine the fate of both parties. The conflict was long and obstinate, each exerting themselves to the utmost,—the one to save their country, now reduced to the last extremity, and the other to complete their victory. During the fight, the Carthaginian brigantines, running along under the large Roman ships, broke to pieces sometimes their sterns, and at other times their rudders and oars; and when briskly attacked, retreated with surprising swiftness, and returned as quickly to the charge. At last, after the two armies had fought with equal success till sunset, the Carthaginians thought proper to retire; not that they believed themselves overcome, but in order to begin the fight again on the morrow. Part of their ships not being able to run swiftly enough into the harbour, because the mouth of it was too narrow, took shelter under a very spacious terrace, which had been thrown up against the walls to unload goods, on the side of which a small rampart had been raised during the war, to prevent the enemy from possessing themselves of it. Here the fight was again renewed with more vigour than ever, and lasted till late at night. The Carthaginians suffered very much, and the few ships that got off sailed for refuge to the city. As soon as morning dawned, Scipio attacked the terrace and carried it, though with much difficulty; after which, he made a lodgment there, fortified himself on it, and built a brick wall close to those of the city, and of the same height. When it was finished, he commanded four thousand men to get on the top of it, and to discharge a perpetual shower of darts and arrows upon the enemy, which did great execution, because the two walls being of equal height, almost every missile took effect. Thus ended this campaign.

During the winter quarters, Scipio endeavoured to overpower the enemy’s troops without the city, who very much harassed the convoys that brought his provisions, and protected such as were sent to the besieged. With this purpose, he attacked a neighbouring fort called Nepheris, in which they were accustomed to shelter themselves. In the last action an immense number of soldiers, and peasants who had been enlisted, were cut to pieces, and the fort was carried with great difficulty, after a siege of two-and-twenty days. The capture of this fort was followed by the surrender of almost all the strongholds in Africa, and contributed very much to the taking of Carthage itself, into which, from that time, it was almost impossible to bring any provisions.

Early in the spring, Scipio attacked, at one and the same time, the harbour called Cothon, and the citadel. Having possessed himself of the wall which surrounded this port, he threw himself into the great square of the city that was near it, whence was an ascent to the citadel, up three streets, on each side of which were houses, from the tops whereof a shower of darts was discharged upon the Romans, who were obliged, before they could advance further, to force the houses they first came to, and post themselves in them, in order to dislodge thence the enemy who fought from the neighbouring houses. This combat, which was carried on from the tops and from every part of the houses, continued six days, during which a dreadful slaughter was made. To clear the streets and make way for the troops, the Romans dragged aside, with hooks, the bodies of such of the inhabitants as had been slain, or precipitated from the tops of the houses, and threw them into pits, the greater part of them being still alive and panting. In this toil, which lasted six days and as many nights, the soldiers were relieved from time to time by fresh ones, Scipio being the only person who did not appear to take rest; he was in all places, and at all hours, scarcely allowing himself time to take food enough to support nature.

There was every reason to believe that the siege would last much longer, and occasion a still greater effusion of blood. But on the seventh day there appeared a company of men in the posture and habit of supplicants, who desired no other conditions than that the Romans would please to spare the lives of all those who should be willing to leave the citadel; which request was granted, only excepting the deserters. Accordingly, there came out fifty thousand men and women, who were sent into the fields under a strong guard. The deserters, who were about nine hundred, finding they would not be allowed quarter, fortified themselves in the Temple of Æsculapius, with Asdrubal, his wife, and two children; where, though their numbers were so small, they might have held out a long time, because the temple stood on a very high hill, upon rocks, and the ascent was by sixty steps. But, at last, exhausted by hunger and watching, oppressed with fear, and seeing their destruction at hand, they lost all patience; and abandoning the lower part of the temple, they retired to the uppermost story, resolved not to quit it but with their lives.

In the mean time, Asdrubal, being desirous of saving his own life, came down privately to Scipio, bearing an olive branch in his hand, and threw himself at his feet. Scipio exhibited him immediately to the deserters, who, transported with rage and fury at the sight, vented frightful imprecations against him, and set fire to the temple. Whilst it was kindling, we are told that Asdrubal’s wife, dressing herself as splendidly as possible, and placing herself with her two children in sight of Scipio, addressed him with a loud voice: “I call not down,” said she, “curses upon thy head, O Roman! for thou only takest the privilege allowed thee by the laws of war: but may the gods of Carthage, and thou in concert with them, punish, according to his deserts, the false wretch who has betrayed his country, his gods, his wife, his children!” Then, addressing herself to Asdrubal, “Perfidious wretch!” said she, “thou basest of men! this fire will presently consume both me and my children; but as to thee, unworthy general of Carthage, go—adorn the gay triumph of thy conqueror—suffer, in the sight of all Rome, the tortures thou so justly deservest.” She had no sooner pronounced these words than she seized her children, and, cutting their throats, threw them into the flames, and afterwards rushed into them herself—in which she was imitated by the deserters.

When Scipio saw this famous city, which had been so flourishing for seven hundred years, and might have been compared to the greatest empires, on account of the extent of its dominions both by sea and land; its mighty armies; its fleets, elephants, and riches; while the Carthaginians were even superior to other nations by their courage and greatness of soul; as, notwithstanding their being deprived of arms and ships, they had sustained, for three whole years, all the hardships and calamities of a long siege; seeing, I say, the city entirely ruined, historians relate that he could not refuse his tears to the unhappy fate of Carthage. He reflected that cities, nations, and empires are liable to revolution no less than private men; that the like sad fate had befallen Troy, anciently so powerful; and, in later times, the Assyrians, Medes, and Persians, whose dominions were once of so great an extent; and very recently, the Macedonians, whose empire had been so glorious throughout the world. Full of these mournful ideas, he repeated the following verses from Homer:—

Thereby denouncing the future destiny of Rome, as he himself confessed to Polybius, who desired Scipio to explain himself on that occasion.8

The fate of Carthage was similar to that of most empires or states that have grown inordinately wealthy, either by conquest or commerce: indulgence follows wealth, and luxury, sensuality, and vice follow indulgence. To support these requires more than that which attained them; to industry succeeds corruption—and then, good-night!

Carthage being taken, Scipio gave the plunder of it (the gold, silver, statues, and other offerings, which should be found in the temples, excepted) to his soldiers for some days. He afterwards bestowed several military rewards on them, as well as on the officers, two of whom, Tiberius Gracchus and Caius Tannius, had particularly distinguished themselves: they had been the first to scale the walls. After this, adorning a small ship, an excellent sailer, with the spoils of the enemy, he sent it to Rome with the news of the victory.