The Fate Of Carthage
In all the history of Rome there is no act of more flagrant treachery
and cruelty than that of her dealings with the great rival city of
Carthage. In the whole history of the world there is nothing more base
and frightful than the utter destruction of that mighty mart of
commerce. The jealousy of Rome would not permit a rival to exist. It was
not enough to drive Hannibal into exile; Carthage was recovering her
trade an
regaining her strength; new Hannibals might be born; the
terror of the great invasion, the remembrance of the defeat at Cannae,
still remained in Roman memories.
Cato the Censor, a famous old Roman, now eighty-four years of age, and
who had served in the wars against Hannibal, hated Carthage with the
hatred of a fanatic, and declared that Rome would never be safe while
this rival was permitted to exist.
Rising from his seat in the senate, the stern old man glowingly
described the power and wealth of Carthage. He held up some great figs,
and said, "These figs grow but three days' sail from Rome." There could
be no safety for Rome, he declared, while Carthage survived.
"Every speech which I shall make in this house," he sternly declared,
"shall finish with these words: 'My opinion is that Carthage must be
destroyed (delenda est Carthago.)'"
These words sealed the fate of Carthage. Men of moderate views spoke
more mercifully, but Cato swayed the senate, and from that day the doom
of Carthage was fixed.
The Carthaginian territory was being assailed and ravaged by Masinissa,
the king of Numidia. Rome was appealed to for aid, but delayed and
temporized. Carthage raised an army, which was defeated by Masinissa,
then over ninety years of age. The war went on, and Carthage was reduced
to such straits that resistance became impossible, and in the end the
city and all its possessions were placed at the absolute disposal of the
senate of Rome, which, absolutely without provocation, had declared war.
An army of eighty thousand foot and four thousand horse was sent to
Africa. Before the consuls commanding it there appeared deputies from
Carthage, stating what acts of submission had already been made, and
humbly asking what more Rome could demand.
"Carthage is now under the protection of Rome," answered Censorinus, the
consul, "and can no longer have occasion to engage in war; she must
therefore deliver without reserve to Rome all her arms and engines of
war."
Hard as was this condition, the humiliated city accepted it. We may have
some conception of the strength of the city when it is stated that the
military stores given up included two hundred thousand stand of arms and
two thousand catapults. It was a condition to which only despair could
have yielded, seemingly the last act of humiliation to which any city
could consent.
But if Carthage thought that the end had been reached, she was destined
to be rudely awakened from her dream. The consuls, thinking the city now
to be wholly helpless, dropped the mask they had worn, and made known
the senate's treacherous decree.
"The decision of the senate is this," said Censorinus, coldly, to the
unhappy envoys of Carthage: "so long as you possess a fortified city
near the sea, Rome can never feel sure of your submission. The senate
therefore decrees that you must remove to some point ten miles distant
from the coast. Carthage must be destroyed."
The trembling Carthaginians heard these fatal words in stupefied
amazement. On recovering their senses they broke out into passionate
exclamations against the treachery of Rome, and declared that the
freedom of Carthage had been guaranteed.
"The guarantee refers to the people of Carthage, not to her houses,"
answered the consul. "You have heard the will of the senate; it must be
obeyed, and quickly."
Carthage, meanwhile, waited in gloomy dread the return of the
commissioners. When they gave in the council-chamber the ultimatum of
Rome, a cry of horror broke from the councillors. The crowd in the
street, on hearing this ominous sound, broke open the doors and demanded
what fatal news had been received.
On being told, they burst into a paroxysm of fury. The members of the
government who had submitted to Rome were obliged to fly for their
lives. Every Italian found in the city was killed. The party of the
people seized the government, and resolved to defend themselves to the
uttermost. An armistice of thirty days was asked from the consuls, that
a deputation might be sent to Rome. This was refused. Despair gave
courage and strength. The making of new arms was energetically begun.
Temples and public buildings were converted into workshops; men and
women by thousands worked night and day; every day there were produced
one hundred shields, three hundred swords, five hundred pikes and
javelins, and one thousand bolts for catapults. The women even cut off
their hair to be twisted into strings for the catapults. Corn was
gathered in all haste from every quarter.
The consuls were astonished and disappointed. They had not counted on
such energy as this. They did not know what it meant to drive a foe to
desperation. They laid siege to Carthage, but found it too strong for
all their efforts. They proceeded against the Carthaginian army in the
field, but gained no success. Summer and winter passed, and Carthage
still held out. Another year (148 B.C.) went by, and Rome still lost
ground. Old Cato, the bitter foe of Carthage, had died, at the age of
eighty-five. Masinissa, the warlike Numidian, had died at ninety-five.
The hopes of the Carthaginians grew. Those of Rome began to fall. The
rich booty that was looked for from the sack of Carthage was not to be
handled so easily as had been expected.
What Rome lacked was an able general. One was found in Scipio, the
adopted son of Publius Scipio, son of the great Scipio Africanus. This
young man had proved himself the only able soldier in the war. The army
adored him. Though too young for the consulship, he was elected to that
high office, and in 147 B.C. sailed for Carthage.
The new commander found the army disorganized, and immediately restored
strict discipline to its ranks. The suburb of Megara, from which the
people of the city obtained their chief supply of fresh provisions, was
quickly taken. Want of food began to be felt. The isthmus which
connected the city with the mainland was strongly occupied, and
land-supplies were thus cut off. The fleet blockaded the harbor, but, as
vessels still made their way in, Scipio determined to build an
embankment across the harbor's mouth.
This was a work of great labor, and slowly proceeded. By the time it was
done the Carthaginians had cut a new channel from their harbor to the
sea, and Scipio had the mortification to see a newly-built fleet of
fifty ships sail out through this fresh passage. On the third day a
naval battle took place, in which the greater part of the new fleet was
destroyed.
Another winter came and went. It was not until the spring of 146 B.C.
that the Romans succeeded in forcing their way into the city, and their
legions bivouacked in the Forum of Carthage.
But Carthage was not yet taken. Its death-struggle was to be a
desperate one. The streets leading from the Forum towards the Citadel
were all strongly barricaded, and the houses, six stories in height,
occupied by armed men. For three days a war of desperation was waged in
the streets. The Romans had to take the first houses of each street by
assault, and then force their way forward by breaking from house to
house. The cross streets were passed on bridges of planks.
Thus they slowly advanced till the wall of Bosra--the high ground of the
Citadel--was reached. Behind them the city was in flames. For six days
and nights it burned, destroying the wealth and works of years. When the
fire declined passages were cleared through the ruins for the army to
advance.
Scipio, who had scarcely slept night or day during the assault, now lay
down for a short repose, on an eminence from which could be seen the
Temple of Esculapius, whose gilded roof glittered on the highest point
of the hill of Bosra. He was aroused to receive an offer from the
garrison to surrender if their lives were spared. Scipio consented to
spare all but Roman deserters, and from the gates of the Citadel marched
out fifty thousand men as prisoners of war.
Hasdrubal, the Carthaginian commander, who had made so brave a defence
against Rome, retired with his family and nine hundred deserters and
others into the Temple of Esculapius, as if to make a final desperate
defence. But his heart failed him at the last moment, and, slipping out
alone, he cast himself at Scipio's feet, and begged his pardon and
mercy. His wife, who saw his dastardly act, reproached him bitterly for
cowardice, and threw herself and her children into the flames which
enveloped the Citadel. Most of the deserters perished in the same
flames.
"Assyria has fallen," said Scipio, as he looked with eyes of prevision
on the devouring flames. "Persia and Macedonia have likewise fallen.
Carthage is burning. The day of Rome's fall may come next."
For five days the soldiers plundered the city, yet enough of statues and
other valuables remained to yield the consul a magnificent triumph on
his return to Rome. Before doing so he celebrated the fall of Carthage
with grand games, in which the spoil of that great city was shown the
army. To Rome he sent the brief despatch, "Carthage is taken. The army
waits for further orders."
The orders sent were that the walls should be destroyed and every house
levelled to the ground. A curse was pronounced by Scipio on any one who
should seek to build a town on the site. The curse did not prove
effective. Julius Caesar afterwards projected a new Carthage, and
Augustus built it. It grew to be a noble city, and in the third century
A.D. became one of the principal cities of the Roman empire and an
important seat of Western Christianity. It was finally destroyed by the
Arabs.