Chapter VIII: Conclusion

Although Elissa had seen the disposition of the troops, and even been present on the field of battle during the earliest stages of the combat, she had been spared the bitter humiliation of being an actual witness of her father’s defeat.

For, with a view to possibly making use of his daughter later on in the case of certain eventualities, no sooner had Hannibal witnessed the disastrous stampede of the elephants than, determined at all events to secure her safety, he had started her off with a small escort of cavalry, with definite instructions to make all speed to Adrumentum, and to remain there until his own arrival, or until he should send for her to join him in Carthage itself. Alas! his own arrival in Adrumentum almost coincided with her own; for when it came to be a case of retreating, Hannibal retreated with as much rapidity as he had been previously wont to advance. For well he knew how quickly ill news can spread, and the absolute necessity of thoroughly securing the town before the garrison had been given sufficient time to become lukewarm or weak-hearted in his cause.

Once he had arrived upon the scene, he did not give anyone in the place time to think, so actively did he keep everyone employed working at the fortifications, drilling, bringing in provisions, and preparing for a siege, or generally occupied in some capacity or other which gave no time for treason or negligence.

Scipio, hearing soon of the state of security in which Hannibal had placed Adrumentum, and that, moreover, he had a large fleet lying off the place, determined not to invest that town. He marched to Carthage instead, and sending for the Suffetes and the Council of One Hundred, dictated to them the terms upon which alone he would make peace. And that they were now ten times more crushing than those which he had offered to Hannibal before the battle of Zama is not a matter for surprise. The astute Scipio, however, had only made such terribly onerous terms in order to be able, if necessary, to modify them in some degree. Therefore, when the Hundred humbly suggested that they would wish to send for Hannibal, to consult with him before agreeing to the terms of the treaty to be forwarded to Rome, the Roman General agreed at once. He sent word that Hannibal should have a safe conduct to Carthage, and requested the Senate to convey to him his wishes that his daughter should accompany him. For now he was in a position to demand compliance with his wishes, and he knew it.

Hannibal came from Adrumentum to Carthage by sea, accompanied by several ships, and anchored in the gulf exactly opposite the house on the Tœnia, whence he had started with his father Hamilcar, when only a boy of nine, on his march along the Mediterranean to the Pillars of Hercules.

The house on the Tœnia still belonged to him, and he disembarked there with his daughter and Maharbal, bitterness in his soul. No joyous demonstrations were there to welcome his return, although an enormous throng of people crowded on the port to obtain a sight of him. But he dismissed all those who would have speech of him, and having entered the house, wherein every passage and doorway was well known to him, he proceeded at once to the verandah on the first floor and looked out.

There was everything just as it had been upon that memorable occasion when his father Hamilcar had called him in upon the day of Matho’s execution. Across the gulf the high hills of the Hermæan Promontory were as dark and serrated as ever, the waters of the gulf itself were just as green and flecked with white foam as they had been then. The headland named Cape Carthage stood up as boldly as in days gone by, while between him and it lay the whole expanse of the city of Carthage, with its various temples to Moloch and Tanais in the distance, and the Forum in the foreground, all absolutely unchanged.

Hannibal moved round the balcony to the back of the house. Ay! there was the very fig-tree in the garden, under which he had been playing at war with his brothers Hasdrubal and Mago when his father had called him. Ah! the place might not have changed, but the people! What had become of them? His little brother Hasdrubal to begin with. Had not his head, all bloody and disfigured, after being cut off at the battle of the Metaurus, been brutally cast over the palisades into his own camp in Southern Italy, the first warning that he had of his brothers having crossed the Alps. And little Mago, who had been with Hasdrubal up in the fig-tree, where was he now? But recently dead, also killed like Hasdrubal by the Romans. And he, Hannibal, what was his own position? That of a disgraced man, disgraced by the Romans. Oh! how he hated them, how well he remembered his vow of hatred made with his father in the temple of Melcareth, of which he could espy the roof yonder. He yearned that for every Roman he had slain he might have slain ten, ay, might yet slay ten. And yet he was, he knew it, but here himself in Carthage solely on the sufferance of the Roman General Scipio, a young man who had vanquished him in war, and yet one who loved his daughter. Vainly now did Hannibal wish that he had allowed Elissa to pursue her voyage to Syracuse after the sea-fight at Locri, and fulfil her engagement to espouse this Scipio. For he well saw how much better it would have been for his country. He vainly wished also that he had not been so severe with Scipio during the interview before the battle of Zama. But how could he foretell that all the elephants were going to stampede, or that the Carthaginian levies would prove such arrant cowards? He cursed the Carthaginians in his heart even more than the Romans when he thought of it all; but even while despising his fellow-countrymen he did not despise his native country, but loved it as much as ever.

Ay! as he looked out and saw the olive groves, the pomegranate trees, the waving cornfields, the orange trees, the houses, the marble temples, and the green dancing sea beyond, he felt, indeed, that he loved his country as much as ever. But never could he have dreamed that the hour of his return could have been so bitter as the hour of anguish through which he was then passing. The mighty warrior thought of his father and the past, the long past of years and years ago. Then he laid his head upon the cold marble of the balustrade and wept--wept bitter tears at that very spot where, when a little boy, his father Hamilcar had bade him look well around and impress every land-mark, every headland, on his memory. For to this spot had he not returned--disgraced!

The following morning Hannibal was informed that the Roman General Scipio wished to see him. He was obliged to repair to the palace in the suburbs which Scipio occupied. The latter strove to receive him in a manner not to hurt his dignity, for whatever he might feel for the other Carthaginian generals, for Hannibal himself he had the most unbounded respect. A long conference took place between Hannibal and Scipio in private upon the terms of the treaty about to be concluded, and Scipio made to him a suggestion, which was absolutely for his ears alone. It was to the following effect: Although, so he said, it was now utterly impossible for him, the Roman General, to modify the general terms of the treaty, which were, he owned, excessively severe--as, owing to the various acts of treachery on the part of the Carthaginians, they deserved to be--on one very important clause Scipio proposed a modification, but upon one condition only. This clause was that the Roman General and the Roman army should remain in Carthage at the expense of the Carthaginians until the whole of the war indemnity should be paid. This implied a Roman occupation of the country for at least twenty years to come, for so enormous was the indemnity required it could not be paid sooner. And after twenty years would they ever go? This clause Scipio expressed to Hannibal his willingness to forego should the Carthaginian General give him even now his daughter in marriage. Under such circumstances Scipio pledged himself to evacuate Carthage with all his army, and sail for Sicily at once, leaving the care of protecting Roman interests to his ally Massinissa. And he vowed, by all the gods of Rome, that, should he once set foot on Sicilian soil in company with Hannibal’s daughter, not only would he never again himself set foot upon Carthaginian soil, but that he would, to the utmost, discourage all future attempts upon Carthage from any Roman sources.

Hannibal was too astute to allow to appear upon his countenance the joy that he felt at this proposal. On the contrary, he made difficulties, talked of Elissa having changed her mind since the battle of Zama, and being, he now feared, thoroughly averse to Scipio. So well did he manage matters that Scipio was quite pleased when, almost as a favour, Hannibal consented in the end to consider the matter, and promised to speak to Elissa about it. The next morning, without acquainting Elissa or Maharbal with the subject of his conversation with Scipio, he requested them both to accompany him to the temple of the great god Melcareth, there to offer a solemn sacrifice at the same altar at which he had participated in the sacrifice with his father Hamilcar.

To the temple of Melcareth the three accordingly proceeded, and with the most serious and awful rites, offered up, under the instructions and guidance of an ancient priest, named Himilco, a most solemn and terrible sacrifice. This old man, Himilco, was the same who had been a priest in the temple in the time of Hannibal’s youth, and had known him from a boy. He was now an old man eighty years of age, with a white beard that reached down to his knees. His sanctity was most renowned, and he was looked upon, with reason, as a prophet by all the people. Under his guidance, for he had doubtless been somewhat, if only partly, prompted in his part by Hannibal, Maharbal and Elissa each made a most terrible vow, invoking, in case of failure to observe it, the most awful penalties of all the gods, to sacrifice themselves to the very last for the good of their country. The priest now caused them to plunge their arms up to the elbow in the blood of the sacrifice, and to vow solemnly to be guided, without question, by Hannibal alone as to what was to be considered for the good of their country; for the old man told them that the great god Melcareth was even at that very moment there present, and pervading all the space in the temple, and that the god had informed him that Hannibal alone was at this moment the arbiter of his country’s fate. To disobey him would therefore be death here and awful damnation hereafter.

While the old man was impressively dictating to the pair the terms of the prescribed oath, the temple became dark. Sounds of rolling thunder were heard, and sudden flames flew from the altar to the roof, to be as suddenly extinguished. There could now be no doubt about the presence of the mighty god among them. They all fell upon their faces during his manifestation. At length Hannibal arose, and most solemnly declared that he had had a vision. That vision was that he had seen Elissa being joined in marriage to Scipio by the very high priest now before them. He further said that it had been revealed to him by the god in his vision that by that means alone could salvation come to unhappy Carthage, for upon Scipio being united to Elissa in marriage he would leave Carthage with all his army, and, he added, that it would be sufficient for Scipio to be accompanied by Elissa as far as the island of Sicily for the god to lay a spell upon him under which he would never return to Libyan soil.

Vainly did Maharbal declare to the high priest and to Hannibal that Elissa was his wife, and his alone.

“Where are thy witnesses?” replied the high priest. “’Tis true the gods did allow a semblance of a marriage between ye, yet had not the priest my license. And, in token of their displeasure, that priest is already dead. A marriage without two witnesses is no legal marriage. Thou sayest that Hannibal was thy witness. One witness is not enough, oh Maharbal, in Carthage, whatever it may be in Spain or Italy. Moreover, think of thine awful oath. And is not the great god Melcareth speaking through Hannibal, whom ye have bound yourselves to obey?”

Now it was Elissa’s turn to protest. With tears in her eyes she declared that she was indeed Maharbal’s wife in very sooth, and could not now possibly give herself to any other man with honour.

“Think of thine oath!” firmly replied the aged priest, “and fear the anger of the immortal gods. ’Tis thou, Elissa, alone who canst save thy country; ’tis thou alone who canst withdraw the invader hence. Land with him but in Sicily and thou shalt be free; but dare thou but to breathe to him one word, and such an awful curse shall fall, not only upon thee and Maharbal, but upon thy country and thy father Hannibal, through thee, that ye had all better have died a thousand deaths on Zama’s battle-field. Thou must be wed to Scipio by me. That is thy fate, for I, too, have had a vision. Ah! the terrible gods are now angry. Submit thyself, proud woman, to their immortal will.”

At this moment the rolling thunder recommenced louder than before, while the lightning flashes from the altar were more frequent and more vivid. The scene in the temple was most awful and impressive, and all, including the aged priest, fell upon their faces.

Elissa hesitated no longer.

“It is the will of the gods!” she muttered. “I must obey.”

“And thou?” inquired the high priest, turning to Maharbal.

“If it be the will of the gods,” he replied, “how can I resist? But I would that the gods were men that I might fight this matter out with them at the point of my sword. I could soon show them who was in the right.”

But, upon Maharbal uttering this awful blasphemy, such a peal of thunder shook the sacred fane that it seemed as though it would fall. He now fell upon his face, repentant, for he realised that he was failing in his vow, and it was indeed evident that the gods were angry.

Before they all left the temple in fear and trembling, both Maharbal and Elissa had humbly asked forgiveness of the gods for trying, against their immortal wishes, to set up their own weak wills, and had once more vowed, in order to appease them, to consider their country, and their country only. To confirm this feeling in both their hearts, the old priest informed them that it would be impious on their parts to consider themselves any longer as husband and wife, and that they must separate as such from that moment. For, whether she would or no, the salvation of her country depended upon Elissa marrying Scipio. Therefore, with sadness, these twain became once more strangers to each other at the temple door.

Ten days afterwards the marriage of Elissa with Scipio was solemnised in that very temple, when the Roman General declared that he recognised in the high priest him whom he had seen in his vision. He reminded his bride, with a happy smile, of what he had written to her; but Elissa’s face wore in return no corresponding glow of happiness. For so terribly complex were her feelings that she knew she had no right to be happy, and, had it not been for her vow, would doubtless have taken her own life. Hannibal had, however, reminded her that in no wise could she benefit her country by so doing, and that her duty to Carthage lay in taking Scipio and his army away from its shores and completely beyond the seas. Once she had landed there her life was in her own hands. She would meanwhile have the satisfaction of having obeyed the mandates of the gods by sacrificing herself upon this occasion.

There were indeed reasons why she should not have married Scipio, the man whom she really loved, and yet her terrible oath prevented her from revealing them to him. And Elissa felt it all the more deeply because she was at heart the very soul of honour.

Upon the same afternoon that the marriage took place did Scipio and all his army embark for Sicily. He himself and his pale but beautiful bride were accommodated upon a most luxurious and stately hexireme. Upon the voyage, which lasted two days, Scipio could not in any way account for the apparent state of alternate gaiety and despondency of his bride. She scarcely seemed to know what she was doing, and despite all the caresses that he showered upon her, ever seemed to shudder and draw back if inadvertently she had herself returned but one of them.

Upon landing at Libybæum in Sicily, no sooner had she disembarked, than, falling on her knees before him, Elissa presented Scipio with the hilt of a dagger, and, with many bitter tears, told him all, absolutely without reserve, beseeching him to slay her on the spot.

At first his fury was so great that he was even about to do so, but then he mastered himself completely, and his wonted nobility and greatness of character did not desert him even in this awful crisis.

Scipio dashed the dagger to the ground violently.

“Nay!” he exclaimed, “I will not slay thee, Elissa, for thou art but like myself, the victim of a cruel, a pitiless fate, and not thyself to blame. May the gods protect thee in the future as in the past, and guide thee to do that which is right. As for me, I do forgive thee, for now I know the truth indeed, which is that thou dost love me most. But to mine enemy Maharbal do I owe my life thrice over. To him, therefore, will I return two lives--thine and that of his unborn child. Farewell, Elissa!--farewell for ever, beloved!”

He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, and thus they parted, to meet no more in this world, for Scipio sent her back to Carthage that same day.

But Elissa never held up her head again; she pined, and grew paler day by day. And when at the expiration of the half-year her son was born, she died in giving him birth.

Thus perished in all the bloom of her beauty one who was ever a martyr to duty and to her country’s cause, Elissa, Hannibal’s daughter.

THE END.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

The available copies of the source text have the following two defects (illegible words).

(p. 376) “…that Elissa returned when she fir[***] rejoined her father in his camp…” Use _first_.

(p. 377) “…that the siege was raised by Scipio [***]r a naval battle in which the Romans were defeated.” Use _after_.

If you have access to an intact copy of the text and can confirm that either of these changes are wrong please contact Project Gutenberg support.

Minor spelling inconsistencies (_e.g._ earrings/ear-rings, hunting party/hunting-party/, praetor/pretors/prætors, etc.) have been preserved.

Alterations to the text:

Add title and author’s name to cover image.

Punctuation: sentences missing periods, quotation mark pairings, etc.

[Part I/Chapter III]

Change “they more than equalled in valour and _dermination_” to _determination_.

“Greeks who had fled to Carthage from _Lilybœum_ to escape” to _Lilybæum_.

“Could Lutatius Catulus have conquered _Lilybœum_ even had” to _Lilybæum_.

“for their _long continued_ neglect of him and all the best” to _long-continued_.

[Part II/Chapter II]

“remember, writing now, _Oh_! Elissa, as a father” to _oh_.

[Part II/Chapter V]

“He unmasked his battery without _futher_ delay” to _further_.

“my men will, storm the palace, and, unless they find me” delete first comma.

[Part III/Chapter IV]

“the _heavy armed_ cavalry men being in the former, two men” to _heavy-armed_.

[Part III/Chapter XII]

“shyly responding to the advances of the the Prince Massinissa” delete one _the_.

[Part IV/Chapter VI]

“To him then was the Princess _Cœcilla_ offered as his wife” to _Cœcilia_.

[Part V/Chapter I]

“after various sieges and conflicts _wiih_ each power in turn” to _with_.

[Part V/Chapter II]

“magnificent camp, of which the the tents were made of purple” delete one _the_.

[End of text]