Part 9

The day was virtually over, yet the hardest fighting of the battle was yet to take place. The Parthian cavalry, with some squadrons of Persian and Indian horse among them, encountered, as they retreated across the field of battle, Alexander himself and the "Companions." Their only hope of escape was to cut through the advancing force. It was no time for tactics, only for a desperate charge for life. Each man was fighting for himself, and he fought with a fury that made him a match even for Macedonian discipline and valour. And the enemy had among them some of the most expert swordsmen in the world. Anyhow, the "Companions" suffered more severely than they did in any other engagement in the war. Sixty were slain in the course of a few minutes, three of the principal officers were wounded, and even Alexander himself was in serious danger. But the Parthians thought only of saving their lives, and when they once saw the way clear before them they were only too glad to follow it.

The Persians achieved one more success. A brigade of Indian and Persian horse had plunged through a gap which the movement of the phalanx had left in the line, and attacked the camp. The Thracians who guarded it were hampered by the number of the prisoners whom they had to watch. Many of these escaped. The mother of Darius--the effort had been made for her--might have been one of them, but she refused to go. By this time some troops had come to the rescue of the camp, and the Persian cavalry had to fly.

The great battle of Arbela was over. It was the most hardly won as it was the most conclusive of all Alexander's victories. The Persians made no further stand. The great enemy of Greece had disappeared from the stage of history. But we shall find the powerful forces which Persia represented appear again in another shape.

_BOOK IV_

ROME AND CARTHAGE

I. THE SERVANTS OF MARS

I have had to speak more than once of mercenary troops employed by the Greek cities in Sicily to help them in their long struggle with Carthage. The use of such troops was a regular practice with Carthage; it was only on great occasions that this State put its own citizens in the field. With the Greeks, on the contrary, it was the exception to employ any but citizen soldiers. The mercenary was suspected, and not without reason, of being a ready instrument in the hands of any unscrupulous person who might be seeking to establish a tyranny. As time went on, however, he became more and more a necessity. As society became more complex, the citizen found himself less willing to bear arms and less capable of doing it. And the exhaustion caused by almost incessant wars made it necessary to seek elsewhere for men who should fill up the depleted ranks. Hence the employment of mercenaries even by free cities. Whatever their use in time of war, these auxiliaries were naturally difficult to manage or dispose of when peace had been restored.[14] Such certainly the Syracusans found to be the case with a body of Italian mercenaries whom Agathocles[15] had had in his service. They were paid off and peremptorily ordered to return home. This prospect was not agreeable; it meant a return to regular and not very profitable labour; they greatly preferred to live by the sword. They professed, however, to be willing to obey the command, and accordingly marched in the direction of Italy, intending, it appeared, to be ferried across the Straits of Messana. Whether they had fixed on any settled plan, or yielded to the sudden attraction of a chance that seemed to offer itself, cannot be determined. What we know is that when they reached Messana, from which they were to have embarked, and had been imprudently invited within the walls by its citizens, they seized the town with all that it contained. Here they established themselves, taking the name of _Mamertini_, or "Servants of Mars" (_Mamers_ was the Oscan name for the deity known to the Romans as _Mars_). A similar body held the adjacent mainland, and the two, joined as they were by an informal alliance of interests, became a formidable power. They practically lived by robbery by land and sea, and their existence became an intolerable nuisance to the two powers that shared Sicily between them. For once the interests of Syracuse and Carthage were identical. The Syracusan troops inflicted a severe defeat on the Mamertini, and, with the help of their new allies, closely besieged their town.

The Mamertini had for some time perceived that they could not stand alone, but must take sides either with Rome or with Carthage. They were divided as to the choice, but circumstances inclined them to Rome, and they sent envoys asking for protection and help. The Senate, to whom this application was addressed, were not a little perplexed. They had just inflicted a severe punishment on a body of mercenaries who had done at Rhegium exactly the same thing that the Mamertini had done at Messana. They postponed the matter more than once, possibly in the hope that the necessity of deciding might pass away. But the General Assembly of the People, to whom the Senate referred the matter--this dual government had at times its convenience--was not disposed to be so indifferent. A resolution was passed that the Mamertini were to be helped, and Appius Claudius, one of the Consuls of the year, was sent in command of an expedition.

When he arrived, he found the situation considerably changed. There was a Carthaginian as well as a Roman party among the Mamertini, and the former had now gained the upper hand. A Carthaginian fleet was in the harbour and a body of Carthaginian troops in possession of the citadel. Fortunately for Rome, there was no one of energy or determination to manage affairs. The officer in command of the fleet was seized by the pro-Roman faction, and Hanno, who was in charge of the citadel, consented to evacuate it, if he were allowed to withdraw with the honours of war. Rome became possessed of Messana without having to strike a blow. She never lost it--it was not her way to lose what she had once gained--and she found it a most valuable position. But the acquisition of Messana meant war with Carthage. Carthage began by crucifying the unlucky general who had abandoned the citadel, and then, entering into close alliance with Hiero, invested the city. Appius Claudius made proposals for peace, which were not accepted. Then he made a sally from the town and inflicted such a defeat on the enemy that they raised the siege. The next year Hiero, who had the sagacity to see that Rome would be a more useful ally than Carthage, changed sides. Rome had its foot down in Sicily and never took it up.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 14: Xenophon gives in the later books of the _Anabasis_ a graphic description of the troubles that arose when the "Ten Thousand," or such as were left of them (between eight and nine thousand), had made their way to the coast, and were looking out for employment.]

[Footnote 15: See pp. 120-21.]

II

FOR THE RULE OF THE SEA

I am not going to tell the whole story of the Punic Wars. In each of them, however, there is something that belongs to my subject. In the First, with which I am now concerned, there is the extraordinary effort by which the Romans put themselves in a position to contend with Carthage for the dominion of the sea. There is nothing quite like it in history, and nothing, one might say, which more plainly showed the wonderful fitness of the nation for its great destiny of ruling the world. Polybius, one of the most thoughtful and judicious of ancient historians, becomes enthusiastic in his praise of this marvellous effort. He says: "There could be no more signal proof of their courage, or rather audacity. They had no resources at all for the enterprise; they had never even entertained the idea of a naval war--indeed it was the first time they had thought of it--but they engaged in the enterprise with such daring that, without so much as a preliminary trial, they took upon themselves to meet the Carthaginians at sea, on which they had held for generations an undisputed supremacy." The first thing, of course, was to build the ships. They had not even a model to copy, till one of the Carthaginian men-of-war happened to run aground, and so fell into their hands. And while the ships were being built the crews which were to man them were being exercised. Sets of rowers' benches were constructed on dry ground; the crews sat on them as they would have to sit in actual vessels. In the middle the fugleman, as we may call him, was stationed. As he gave the signal, they stretched their bodies and arms forwards, and drew them back again, all in time. By the time the ships were finished, the crews were as ready as this kind of teaching could make them. A little practice in actual rowing on the sea was given them, and then the new fleet entered upon its first naval campaign.

The first experience of the new force was not encouraging. A squadron of seventeen ships under one of the Consuls for the year, a Scipio, great-uncle of a famous man of whom I shall have to speak hereafter, was shut up in the harbour of Lipara, and had to surrender. The other Consul was put in command of the fleet and at once set about suiting it better to the actual conditions of warfare. He had the sagacity to see that there was more in seamanship than could be acquired by a landsman in a few weeks, and the object that he set before himself was that seamanship should not be allowed to count for more than could possibly be helped. To put the matter shortly, a battle on sea was to be made as like to a battle on land as could be managed. He adopted accordingly the suggestion of an ingenious inventor that the ships should be fitted with boarding-machines, or "crows" (_corvi_), as they afterwards came to be called. The actual "crow" was a gangway, four feet wide and thirty-six feet long, with a wooden railing on either side, about the height of a man's knee. This construction was fastened to a pole, some twenty-four feet high, that was placed near the bowsprit. It was fitted with pulleys and ropes so that it could be dropped at pleasure in any direction that might be convenient. When it was dropped to the deck of a hostile ship it acted as a grappling-iron, for it was fitted with a heavy spike which ran into the timber. If the two ships came together side by side the boarders could scramble over the bulwarks, and the chief use of the machine was for grappling. If they met prow to prow the gangway, which was broad enough for two men to pass over it abreast, became very useful.

When this equipment was complete, Duilius boldly put to sea, sailing for a spot on the north coast of Sicily where the Carthaginians were busy plundering. As soon as the Roman fleet came in sight the Carthaginian admiral--one of the many Hannibals who figure in these wars--manned his ships, and went out of harbour to meet it. He was superior in numbers, having 130 ships, while the Romans could have had but few over 100 (they had built 120 and had lost 17). But it was on his superiority in seamanship that he most relied. For the Romans as sailors he had, and not without reason, a profound contempt. So strong was this feeling of superiority that he did not take ordinary pains in keeping his ships in order. "He advanced," says Polybius, "as though he was about to seize an easy prey." He and his officers saw the "crows," and could not make out what they meant. That there was anything dangerous about them no one seems to have imagined, for the Carthaginian captains that led the van of the fleet charged straight at their antagonists. When they came to close quarters they made a very discomfiting discovery. Any ship that came into contact with a Roman vessel was immediately grappled; no sooner had it been grappled than it was boarded by a number of armed men, and became the scene of a conflict that was practically the same as if it were being fought on dry land. The Carthaginian crews were not prepared for this; it is not improbable that they were insufficiently armed, for they counted on ramming and sinking their antagonists. Thirty ships were captured in this way; the rest of the fleet sheered off when they saw what had happened to the van, and tried to manœuvre, taking the enemy, if possible, at a disadvantage. They were able, however, to affect little or nothing. If they were to do any damage to the enemy, they had, sooner or later, to come into contact with him. But this contact was very likely to be fatal. The "crow" was promptly dropped, and the dreaded Romans had to be encountered. Twenty more ships were thus lost, and the rest were glad enough to make their escape.

This victory was undoubtedly a great achievement, and Rome did not fail to appreciate it properly. The Consul Duilius became at once one of the most famous of Roman heroes. He did not perform, possibly had no opportunity of performing, any other service of much importance, but the victory of Mylæ established his reputation for ever. A story is told of the privileges accorded to him in his old age. He had a fancy for being attended by a couple of flute players when he was returning home from an entertainment, and though the practice was thought inconsistent with the simplicity of Roman manners, his fellow-citizens endured it with patience in consideration of the singular service which he had rendered to his country.

Nor was the victory at Mylæ a solitary success. Four years afterwards there was another great sea-fight at Heraclea,[16] on the south coast of Sicily. The Romans had determined to adopt a policy which, as we have seen, had been previously followed with success, and to attack Carthage on her own territory. A very large fleet was collected or constructed to carry out this purpose. There were, according to Polybius, 330 ships, each carrying on an average 300 rowers and sailors and 120 soldiers or marines. This gives a total of nearly 140,000, a huge number which Polybius mentions with astonishment, but apparently without disbelief. The Carthaginian fleet, which numbered 350 men-of-war, prepared to dispute the passage.

The battle that followed was fiercely contested. The description that Polybius gives of it is not easy to understand, but the main features are clear enough. In manœuvring the Carthaginians more than held their own. Whatever success they won was due to the rapidity and skill with which they moved; but they could not contend on equal terms with their antagonists when they had to come to close quarters. "Over thirty" of their ships were sunk. Polybius does not give, doubtless because he could not ascertain, a more definite figure, while the Romans lost twenty-four. So far there was no great disparity. But, on the other hand, sixty-four Carthaginian men-of-war were captured, whereas not a single Roman ship was taken. Plainly, when the "crows" could be brought into use, and the struggle between ship and ship was decided by hand-to-hand fighting, the old Roman superiority declared itself.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 16: The battle is sometimes spoken of as the battle of Ecnomus.]

III

THE MARTYR PATRIOT

The two Consuls of the year were in command of the fleet at Heraclea, and the historian attributes some of the energy and determination with which the battle was fought to the encouragement of their presence. The junior of the two, M. Atilius Regulus, is one of the most romantic heroes of Roman story, and it is impossible not to give a short account of the rest of his career. It was by an accident, the death of the duly elected Consul of the year very shortly after his coming into office, that Regulus happened to share the command of the expedition to Africa. But he had held the Consulship before, and had then so distinguished himself--he had in fact the glory of completing the Roman conquest of Italy--that he had obtained the honour of a triumph. After the victory at Heraclea, he effected a successful landing on the African coast. The departure of his colleague, who was summoned home, left him in sole command. Aided by an insurrection of the native tribes, always ready to revenge themselves on their oppressive masters, he reduced Carthage to great straits. That haughty State even brought itself to ask for peace. Regulus demanded such conditions--what they were we are not told--that the Carthaginians unanimously resolved to bear any extremity of suffering rather than submit to them.

And now there was a change of fortune. It came with dramatic suddenness, and signally illustrated the aphorism which the moralists of antiquity repeated with such frequency and emphasis, "pride goeth before a fall." The Carthaginian recruiting agents, when they visited Greece, found a man who was admirably suited for their purpose. Xanthippus was one of those Spartan soldiers of fortune who in several conspicuous instances affected the course of history. It was the Spartan Gylippus who saved Syracuse when it was almost in the grasp of Athens; and now it was another Spartan who at least prolonged for a century the existence of Carthage. Xanthippus had, it would seem, taken service in some subordinate capacity as an officer of mercenaries. He was an acute observer, and saw that the resources of Carthage were but ill employed. In the two arms of elephants and cavalry her army was so superior to the Romans that defeat could not but be the result of mismanagement. These opinions, freely expressed to his comrades, came round before long to the ears of the authorities. Xanthippus was summoned before them; he explained his views and pointed out some changes in the management of the campaign which it would be necessary to make. His hearers were greatly impressed by the force and clearness of his statement, and gave him what was probably a provisional command of the army. He had now the opportunity of showing his military abilities. He began by manœuvring bodies of troops, and showed such tactical skill as to excite the admiration of the men. They loudly demanded to be led against the enemy, stipulating that the leader should be Xanthippus. It is needless to describe the battle which followed. The hundred elephants which Xanthippus put in part of his line were used to good effect. They did not actually break the Roman legions, but they inflicted a great deal of damage, and prepared the way for the infantry behind them. In cavalry the Carthaginian army was so much stronger than the Roman--four thousand, we are told, to five hundred--that there was practically no conflict. In the end the army of Regulus was nearly annihilated. Two thousand men made good their retreat to the town of Aspis on the coast; five hundred, among whom was the Consul himself, were taken prisoners; the rest, more than twelve thousand in number, perished on the field of battle.

For five years Regulus remained in captivity. Then--so runs the story--he was sent to Rome in company of some ambassadors who were to propose a treaty of peace. It was expected of him that he should do his best to recommend the proposal to his countrymen; his release was to be the reward of his help. But Regulus had very different views of the situation. He thought that peace, at least on any such terms as Carthage was willing to accept, would not be for the interest of Rome, and he determined to oppose. He asked permission to speak; his right to deliver an opinion as a member of the Senate he considered himself to have lost by having fallen into the hands of the enemy. Leave granted, he delivered an oration in which he did his best to dissuade his countrymen from making peace, and succeeded. But his success was fatal, not only to his chances of liberty, but to his life. He was taken back to Carthage, and there--so the story has it--put to death by cruel tortures. The tale is told by many writers, but Polybius, who is by far the best authority for events of the time, is absolutely silent about it, and his silence, in view of the strong feeling in favour of the Romans which is noticeable in him, is a very important consideration. According to another story, which seems to have as little or as much foundation, the Senate handed over to the widow of Regulus two noble Carthaginian prisoners. The woman, in revenge for her husband's death, treated them with such barbarity that, for very shame, the Senate took them out of her hands. Perhaps we shall be justified in regarding both legends as specimens of that wonderful crop of inventions which springs up whenever the feelings of a nation are greatly roused by the agitations of war.

This was not the only loss that Rome suffered during the latter part of the war. She lost one fleet by a storm, and another by the folly of its commander. This man was one of the Claudian family, a house which showed more ability in politics than in war. He seems to have fallen into the mistake of underrating the enemy, made an attack upon them from which he was compelled to withdraw, and when he saw that the day was lost, made his own escape with a discreditable precipitancy. The battle was fought in and outside the harbour of Drepanum, a town in the extreme west of the Island. Claudius was indicted on his return to Rome, heavily fined, and thrown into prison. He is said to have committed suicide. In later writers we find a story which has something of the look of having been invented to point a moral. It was represented to him on the morning of the battle by the keepers of the sacred chickens, that the sacred birds, whose conduct was held to foretell the future, would not eat. This was a most sinister sign. The insolent soldier received the intimation with contempt. "If they won't eat," he cried, "they shall at least drink!" and he gave orders that they should be thrown into the sea. It is certainly, whether true or not, a characteristic illustration of the arrogance of the Claudian family. Such, too, is the other story which supplements it. Some years afterwards a sister of the unlucky or impious general was greatly incommoded by the crush of people coming out of the amphitheatre. "I wish," she cried, "that my brother were alive again, and would take another fleet to Sicily, and ease us of some of this superfluous crowd." She was fined for her _incivility_, the use of language unbecoming a citizen.