Chapter XVII: Conclusion: Of the Second Punic War (2)

He is said to have been generous to his relatives; but to help them, after freely helping himself, may have been nothing more than nepotism, under the disguise of a domestic virtue. It is stated that he showed his disregard for wealth by relinquishing to his brother his own share of his patrimony; but there is little merit in his having despised the comparatively mean contents of his family purse, if he was unscrupulous during the time that he had the public pocket to dip into.

FOOTNOTE:

[55] This is, in fact, the homœopathic principle applied to politics; the counteracting of like by like, _similia similibus_.

CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH.

PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. MORALS, MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND STATE OF THE DRAMA AND LITERATURE AMONG THE ROMANS.

It is customary with the grandiloquent to declare that the page of history is stained with gore; but we limit ourselves to ink, which perhaps, after all, furnishes a decent type of mourning over the deeds we are compelled to chronicle. It is true that history has too often wars for her principal facts, and the numbers of dead for her figures; but she is apt to speak rather figuratively in estimating the thousands upon thousands who are said to have fallen, sword in hand, or to have been terribly put to it.

The weapon of war cuts, however, both ways; and a nation cannot play with edged tools more safely than an individual can indulge in such dangerous pastime.

The state of war in which Rome habitually lived, had encouraged the worst passions of the people; and nearly every vice had taken an iron hold of them. By continually fighting, they had become familiar with murder and violence, while the practice of plunder had accustomed them to robbery. Military stratagem--which was the very essence of strategy--had taught them to regard cunning as a virtue; and he was a hero, in their opinion, who would face the swords and spears of a foe, but sought in poison a cowardly refuge from the "slings and arrows" of his own conscience. The wealth taken by force was often appropriated by fraud; and a successful leader thought nothing of putting into his own pocket an enormous sum, declaring that it was unreasonable to expect a general to be particular.[56] The few became enormously rich, while the many were miserably poor. The higher orders grasped everything, leaving nothing to those beneath, and the consequence was a state of top-heaviness, which, when existing in the social column, exposes base and capital--but especially the latter--to extreme danger. Money had been acquired by some, who did not know its use; and its abuse was the inevitable result; for the improper employment of gold leads to every kind of guilt on the part of those who are possessed of it.

With the wealth of other nations, foreign fashions were imported, and Roman simplicity was superseded by the art and cunning of the Grecian craftsmen. The pleasures of the table were carried to a gluttonous excess; and a slave who, in the capacity of a cook, could set before his master an agreeable kind of sauce, was often allowed impunity for insolence.

Extravagance began to prevail to such an extent among the Roman women, that those females whose wardrobe was of a gaudy hue, were virtually condemned to dye, for a law was passed by the tribune Appius, prohibiting them from wearing dresses of a gay colour. The same law limited them to half-an-ounce of gold; but this was unnecessary; for the extravagantly-disposed would spend all they had; and they were further restricted from riding at or near Rome, or any other city, in a carriage drawn by two horses; for it was considered that with one the road to ruin could be quite rapidly enough travelled. This law occasioned some violent agitation among the Roman women, who manifested the force of female influence so effectually, that in a few years the law was repealed.

The stern necessities of historical truth compel us to attribute to what is termed the gentler sex, the introduction, among the Romans, of some vices so foul, as to be at variance with all our notions of the fair. One of the worst of these enormities was the celebration of the Bacchanalia, introduced from Etruria; and recent discoveries[57] in that locality have initiated us into the secret of what are usually termed the Bacchic mysteries. The mystification of the votaries was accomplished by drink; under the influence of which they wound up their festivities with a reel, such as may be traced in ancient paintings; and round every such reel there is twined some important thread of history.

Imitation is seldom respectable in any case; for even merit loses half its value when it is not original; but nothing can be more contemptible than a people putting on bad habits at second-hand. Such, however, was the practice of the Romans, who borrowed nearly all their iniquities from Athens or other cities, and who wilfully brought upon themselves the moral stain of Greece. Cruelty, which goes hand in hand with depravity, had reached such an infamous excess, that it was practised openly by those whom the people delighted to honour. Among other instances, may be cited the example of the Consul L. Quinctius Flaminius, who, while encamped in Gaul, happened to be feasting with one of his degraded creatures, when the latter lamented he had never seen a gladiator killed. A noble Boian entering at the moment, to ask for shelter, Flaminius observed that, though unable to treat his friend to the sight of a dying gladiator, he might satisfy his appetite for cruelty by the exhibition of a dying Gaul. The "creature" had no sooner expressed his readiness to accept the lighter relish as a substitute for the more substantial meal, than Flaminius, drawing his sword, smote the unfortunate Boian on the head, and ran him through the body. So brutalised had the people become by continual war, that no notice was taken of this occurrence until eight years afterwards, when Cato, the Censor, brought up the charge, with a variety of others, more or less weighty, against Flaminius, and caused his expulsion from the Senate.

The name of Cato the Censor, naturally induces a few observations on the character of this ancient specimen of the

"Fine old Roman gentleman all of the olden time."

He was the son of a respectable Sabine farmer, and passed his earliest years in the country, where he followed the plough--a peaceful pursuit, which imprints no early furrows on the forehead, but leaves many on the earth it at once improves and lacerates. At seventeen, every Roman became, of necessity, a soldier; and though in the game of life fortune had dealt him a spade, he was obliged to throw it out of his hand. Such was the lot of young Marcus Porcius Priscus; for that was in reality his name, though he afterwards had the title of Cato, or the "knowing one," bestowed on him. His military duties were performed with credit, though he preferred cultivating any other seeds than the seeds of dissension; and he was more at home in a trench dug for celery, than in one designed for undermining a fort.

After returning from the wars, he took some ground adjoining that which had been occupied by Dentatus; and regarding that individual as a model farmer, Cato tried to make his own a model farm. So thoroughly did he throw himself into his agrarian occupation, that he may be said to have buried himself in his land. He wrote a work on Agriculture,[58] which included much miscellaneous information, from the mode of buying an estate to the art of making a cheesecake, the curing of a side of bacon, and the setting of a dislocated bone. While attending to his own business, he found leisure to attend to that of his neighbours; and in all their petty disputes before the local tribunals, he was in the habit of attending the hearing of summonses for and against his friends. He had a word of advice or a maxim to meet every circumstance in which his advice was asked or offered; and he could always cut through a difficulty with one of his wise saws. Some might be disposed to term him a busybody and a meddler; but at all events a young patrician, named Valerius Flaccus, considered him to be a meddler well worth transplanting, and persuaded him to go to Rome, "as," in the language of Plutarch, "a plant that deserved a better soil." Here he "put up" for various places in the public service, and we find him climbing successively to several very high posts, where the example he set by his externally virtuous mode of living, formed a decent contrast to the undisguised vices of the age.

Such was Cato in his earlier years; but the melancholy fact must be stated, that, though flattery paints only one side of every picture, there is none to which truth may not be called upon to add a reverse. In his youthful days Cato had worked with his labourers; had partaken of the same fare with them at the same board, and drank nothing stronger than water; but, in after-life, he contracted a disreputable marriage, and, giving himself up to the dissipations of the table, might have found himself occasionally under it. So thoroughly utilitarian was he in his political philosophy, that he looked upon a labourer as a mere machine, which, when worn out, he contended ought to be got rid of as speedily as possible. Cato the Censor owes much of his reputation for morality to the fact of his having set himself up as a professional moralist. Though he was useful as a castigator of the vices of his age, there was nothing very amiable in the rancorous and uncharitable spirit in which he performed his office. He had a keen appetite for an abuse or a piece of scandal, but, while crime or error excited his hatred, virtue and generosity seemed to rouse less of his admiration than his jealousy. If he had lived in modern times, he would, probably, have been a common informer, a rigid observer of all the outward appearances of virtue, and a discounter of bills; for it is said of Cato, that he advanced money at exorbitant interest to those whose necessities or recklessness induced them to comply with his terms.

Religion had, at about this period, sunk to a very low ebb in the hands of a crafty priesthood, who used the influence of their position for their own temporal purposes. Prodigies were declared to have happened; such as the talking of a cow, which was alleged to have "whispered low" in a priest's ear; statues were said to have wept; and the tale was listened to by those who believed that their augurs could, if they pleased, get blood out of a stone.

In literature, though it is customary to speak of Roman characters as an original form of letters, Rome had nothing new, but trusted to what was already known; for she not only copied the vices of the Greeks, but took a leaf out of their books in a more literal manner. She had no writers of her own; but what literary food she possessed was supplied by those translating cooks who make a hash of nearly everything they lay their hands upon.

The earliest Roman dramatist is supposed to have been one Lucius Andronicus, who had formerly been a slave, and who continued his slavish propensities by a servile adaptation of Greek plays, instead of boldly attempting an original production. Like many of the modern translators, he was himself an actor in his own pieces; and it is declared by Livy the historian, that he lost his voice by the frequency with which he was encored by the audience. This statement seems to show that puffs were not unknown when the Roman drama was in its very earliest stage; for the assertion in question could scarcely have been true, since Cicero[59] has told us that there was nothing worthy of being read or listened to twice, in the plays of Lucius Andronicus.

The greatest comic writer of the period at which our history has arrived, was Marcus Accius Plautus, of whose origin little is known; for the Romans held their wits and humorists in such little respect, that as long as they could raise a laugh, it mattered little who they were, whence they sprung, or what became of them. It was not until after a writer's death that any interest was felt in his life, and such was the case with regard to Plautus, who has been the subject of more invention than is to be found in all his comedies. Conjecture--the author of half the history, and three-fourths of the biography, which the world possesses--describes Plautus as a low-born fellow, made of the very commonest clay, moulded by one of Nature's awkwardest journeymen into a misshapen lump, and whose angular deformities constituted his chief points of humour. Having made a little money as a dramatist, he is said to have embarked it in the baking business; some would say that he might make his own puffs; but his shop failed, and as the public would not, he of course could not, get his bread at it. He next entered the service of a miller and master baker, where he attempted, in grinding corn, to turn at once the handle of a mill and an honest penny. Even in the bakehouse he was unable to forget the flowery path of literature; and while watching the bread, he managed to inscribe on different rolls no less than three comedies. Of these he made sufficient to enable him to quit the oven, which was incapable of warming his imagination; and taking lodgings in Rome, he resumed the life of a dramatist.

What Plautus may have wanted in originality, he made up for by industry, there being still extant twenty of his plays, and he was, according to some, the author of one hundred pieces.

The mantle of Plautus--supposing the dramatist to have died with a coat to his back--may be said to have fallen on Terentius Afer, or Terence. He is believed to have been born at Carthage, and to have been the slave of a Roman senator; for his biographers--who, by the way, were writers themselves--will not hazard the supposition that one of their own order could have been the son of a gentleman. Terentius, however, got into what is usually termed the best society, which had the usual effect of the "best society" on a literary man; for it took what it could never compensate him for--his time; it led him into idle and extravagant habits, and thus brought him, where it will inevitably leave him, if it once gets him there--to ruin. His fashionable friends carried their patronage so far, as to tax his reputation as well as his means, and even claimed a share in the credit of his writings, declaring the best part of them to be their own, though they suffered Terentius to affix his name to them.

Scipio Africanus, who stands convicted of fraud and embezzlement in a former chapter,[60] had the effrontery to say, or allow it to be said, that he had written portions of the plays in question, or, at least, contributed some of the jokes; but we have nothing to support the claim, except the fact that he might, perhaps, have made a pun, as he is known to have picked the public pocket. The following anecdote, related by his biographer, Donatus, or Suetonius--for the learned are at issue, and have long been stumbling over the two styles--may afford some idea of the treatment to which authors were submitted in the age we are writing of. Having completed his play of "Andria," Terence was desirous of getting it licensed, and applied to the Ædiles, who referred him to Cæcilius, for an opinion on the manuscript. The critic being at dinner, desired the dramatist to take a seat on a low stool, and read his piece, so that Cæcilius might, at the same time, swallow his meal, and digest the new comedy. Terence had read but a few verses, when the critic declared he could not continue selfishly putting good things into his own mouth, while so many good things were coming from the mouth of his visitor. He was requested to put the comedy away until after the dinner, which he was invited to share; and, having done so, the play was finished over a glass or two of wine, which increased the enthusiasm with which the author read, and the critic listened. Both were delighted with each other. Their better acquaintance was drunk; success to the comedy was drunk; their healths were drunk together; and, ultimately, Cæcilius and Terence were drunk separately as well as jointly, before the termination of the evening.

The plays of Terence, though of Greek origin, were moulded after a fashion of his own, and what little of the material he borrowed was almost immaterial to the value of his productions. He received for one of them "The Eunuchus," no less than 8000 sesterces (about £64), which was, in those days, the largest sum that had ever been paid for a five act comedy. After having been successful for some years, he embarked, according to some authorities, for Greece--as our dramatists embark occasionally for Boulogne--to lay in a new stock of pieces for future translation. Other authorities assert that he went to Asia, taking a number of translations with him, and was never heard of again, the ship having been sunk, perhaps, by the weight of his too heavy manuscripts.

Among the writers of the period, we must not forget to mention Ennius, a Calabrian, who gave lessons in Greek to the patrician youths, at a small lodging on the Aventine. He is regarded as the father of Latin poetry; but Latin poetry could profit little from the paternal care of one whose devotion to the bottle rendered his own care of himself frequently impossible. His productions are of a very fragmentary kind; and, indeed, his habits of intemperance prevented him from making any sustained effort. He was the boon companion of several patricians, who helped him to ruin when alive, and gave him a monument at his death;--one of them (Scipio Africanus) accommodating the poet with a place in his tomb, so that the patron might literally go down to posterity with the man of genius.

While on the subject of the drama, as represented at Rome in the days of Plautus and Terence, we may refer to the fact that masks were worn by the actors, which gave to a theatrical performance some absurd and not very interesting features. There were several sets of masks among the properties of a regular theatre, beginning with that of the first tragic old man, which had a quantity of venerable white worsted attached to it for hair, with cheeks as chalky as grief and tears, strong enough to have washed out the fastest colour, might be supposed to have rendered them. The mask of the second tragic old man was less pale than that of the first, for he was not supposed to have attained to that universal privilege of aged heroism,--a countenance sicklied o'er with a pale coat of whitewash. The mask of the tragic young man, or youthful hero, was remarkable for its luxuriant head of hair, which, from the earliest days of the drama to the present hour, seems to be accepted as the stage indication of a noble character. The tragic masks for slaves embraced some interesting varieties, including a sharp nose, intended to be indicative of many a blow from fortune's hand,--a sunken eye, to bespeak a sorry look-out,--and, occasionally, long white hair, quite straight, which was supposed to convey the idea of the party having seen better days, though the analogy is difficult, unless the lankiness of the locks may be held to show that a favourable turn has in vain been waited for. The mask of a tragic lady had all those signs of a genuine female in distress which are even to this day required on the stage, where long black hair, in terribly straightened circumstances, is the emblem of an anxious mind, which has long been a stranger to curl-papers. When insanity, as well as anguish, had to be represented by the mask, the hair was undivided in the centre, but floated in wild profusion, as if the wearer had gone through a great deal, and as if, whatever she had gone through, her hair had caught in the middle of.

The classical mask of the first comic old man was drawn excessively mild and benevolent, to indicate that propensity for scattering purses among the poor, and bestowing his daughter, with some millions of sesterces, on young Lucius, which were the probable attributes of the Greek and Latin stage veteran. There was also the mask of the testy old man, who was represented perfectly bald, as if he was always taking something or other into his head which had torn all the hair out of it. The masks for comic young men had the ordinary characteristics of stage humour, including red hair, pug noses, broad lips, and raised eyebrows, which are in these days supplied from those recognised sources of dramatic drollery, the burnt cork, the gum-pot, and the paint-box.

We might enumerate a long list of different masks, without introducing any variety, for they were very nearly the same; but we have shown enough to prove that the classical taste for which so many clamour without knowing what they talk about, was very little, if at all, above the modern standard. Some authorities[61] assert that masks were not worn in the earliest representations of the Roman drama; but some of the oldest MS. of Terence contain figures of the required masks, just as a play of the present day has prefixed to it a list of the costumes of the characters. The admirers of the classical may be grieved and astonished to hear that the taste, for the restoration of which they so much pine, took greater delight in the deadly games of the Circus, than in the lively representations of men and manners.

Historical literature was in a very humble condition, and had much, or indeed all, the prolixity, with little of the accuracy, of a modern report for a newspaper. It is, however, hardly fair to judge the authors severely for writings which we have never seen, and are never likely to see; for they have never come down to us, except in scraps--the result of the various cuttings-up they have encountered at the hands of Polybius and other critics. For the same reason, we are unable to praise conscientiously the "Origines" of Cato, which has long ago been lost, and we are unwilling to adopt the "opinions of the press," which have too often been at the disposal of the member of a clique, or of the purchaser of a puffing paragraph. Oratory always was, and always will be, an important art, except in those countries which are so excessively republican and free, that the people are free for every imaginable or imaginary purpose, except to do as they please, and to say what they think proper. The Romans took the art of rhetoric from the Greeks, but even a good thing is distasteful if forced where it is not asked; and, when the Athenians sent three professed orators as propagandists of their art to Rome, the foreign agitators were ordered--very properly--to quit the city.

As lawyers, the early Romans are entitled to high praise, and they evinced their prudence by making juris-prudence an essential part of their ordinary studies. The Roman youth were required to get the Twelve Tables by heart, or rather, by head, which was supposed to be sufficiently furnished when the whole of the Twelve Tables alluded to were crammed into it.

The science of Medicine was not in very high repute among the early Romans, and physic was, commercially speaking, in very little demand, so that it would have been a mere drug if brought into the market. The aristocratic families generally expected one of their slaves to know something of the healing process, as they usually did of other arts or trades; and a surgical operation, like a gardening operation, or any piece of merely manual labour, was frequently entrusted to the hands of a simple bondsman. Physic was scarcely known in Rome as a distinct pursuit, until the year of the City 534 (B.C. 219), when the Greek physician Archagathus opened a shop with an extensive stock, and an establishment of baths; the expense of which would have plunged him into hot water, had not the public come forward to make him a present of his premises. The shops of the doctors were lounging places for the idle, who are always the most profitable patients; for there is no ailing so troublesome as that of having nothing to do, and abundance of time to do it in. The Romans had made little advance in art, though they professed to show their love for it by robbing other nations of their treasures. On the same principle, the pickpocket, who pilfers a handkerchief, might ask credit for being attracted by the beauty of its design; and the knave who walks away with a set of silver spoons might pretend to be actuated by a desire to patronise their pattern or their workmanship. Rome, indeed, can scarcely be said to have introduced the arts from Greece, but merely to have introduced a few of the articles on which the arts had employed themselves.

Commerce was looked down upon for a long period as a degrading pursuit; but from the time of the Second Punic War, the equites, with a total disregard of equity, began lending out money at exorbitant interest. Though they would not condescend to trade for gain, they were prepared to pocket the profits of usury. They would also purchase corn at a low price abroad, and sell it at a dear rate at home; for they understood and practised all the tricks of the tradesman, though they sneered at and repudiated his position. The slave trade was also carried on to a vast extent by the higher classes, and even Cato is said to have done a little in that way himself, notwithstanding the stiffness of his notions, and the alleged purity of his morals. The patrician principle seemed to be, that the same thing which would be blamable on a small scale, was excusable when practised on a broad basis--that to sell a little was degrading, but to sell a great deal was no disgrace at all; and by a parity of reasoning, they must have held, that so far from its being the same thing whether to be hanged for a sheep or a lamb, it would only be the smaller depredator who would deserve any punishment whatever.

Robbery had greatly augmented the public wealth; but individuals were wretchedly poor, with the exception of the few who had had a hand in the pockets of the conquered nations. Slaves were brought in such numbers to Rome, that at length they would hardly fetch a price; and so many were brought from Sardinia, who were constantly being put up, knocked down at nothing, bought in, and left on hand, that "Sardians to sell!" passed into a proverb to express an unsaleable article. In vain were the poor creatures prepared to do as they were bid, for no one would give them a bidding. The Greek captives fetched a higher price, for they were many of them accomplished men, and became tutors, music-masters, or teachers of painting, in the families of their purchasers. Among the hostages brought to Rome, was Polybius the historian, who got so good a living by giving lessons, that though he had been brought to Rome against his will, he solicited the privilege of remaining there. His "Universal History," in forty books, was a work that ought to be, and would have been, in every gentleman's library, but for the unfortunate fact of its having been nearly all lost: and we may judge of the excellence of the whole, from the knowledge that though what remains of the work is very good, by far the best part of it is missing.

FOOTNOTES:

[56] P. Cornelius Scipio gave no better answer than this to a charge of having embezzled a sum amounting to 36,000_l._ sterling.

[57] _Vide_ "The Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria," by Dennis.

[58] De Re rustica.

[59] Brut., c. 18

[60] Chapter xix., p. 202.

[61] Diomedes, iii., p. 486, ed. Putsch.

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST.

WARS AGAINST PERSEUS. THE THIRD PUNIC WAR. SIEGE AND DESTRUCTION OF CARTHAGE, AND DITTO DITTO OF CORINTH.

Philip of Macedon bad been from time to time waging war with Rome; but the wages of the troops were so exhausting to his means, that he was driven to a hollow peace by his empty pockets. He had agreed to confine his dominion within a certain space; but, as his ambition had no bounds, he would not be content that his territory should have any limits. He accordingly fought with and thrashed the Thracians, who sent ambassadors to Rome for the purpose of showing him up, as it were, to their common master. Rome punished him by ordering him to keep within bounds; and threatened, that if he should be found venturing out of bounds, he should be severely punished. Philip muttered something about seeking justice elsewhere--a threat of paulo-post-future revenge which is common with those who, being engaged in a dispute, have got decidedly the worst of it.

His prospects of ulterior measures were, however, sufficiently remote to induce him to attempt an arrangement through the intervention of his son Demetrius. The latter had been educated in Rome, and of course had a thorough understanding of the Roman character. He succeeded in his mission, but he obtained his end in a less agreeable sense; for his existence was brought to a close by treachery. Some designing persons fomented a feeling of jealousy between himself and his elder brother, Perseus, who poisoned the mind of Philip with such fatal effect, that he caused the poisoning--not merely mental, but physical--of his son Demetrius. When the wretched parent discovered that he had been duped, he became so uneasy in his mind, that he went quite out of it, and died at the age of three-score, unable to meet the heavy score that he had run up against himself in the court of his own conscience.

Perseus was hailed by the Romans as king; but all their hailing could not render his reign prosperous. He endeavoured to cement his power by a marriage with the daughter of Antiochus Epiphanes, for Perseus thought that the aid he would derive from the match, would render him more than a match for his enemies. He gave his sister to Prusias of Bithynia, in the hope that the latter, having married into the family, would feel himself wedded to its interests. Avarice was, however, the ruin of Perseus; for he did not understand the true use of the purse, which he used his utmost exertions to fill, and then held its strings with parsimonious stringency. He had promised to pay his allies, but their zeal in his cause subsided when they were left without their subsidies.

Eumenes of Pergamus being among others seized with a panic, went to Rome to ask advice, and on his return nearly lost his life on the highway, by some persons who attacked him in a very low manner. He was passing a narrow footpath near Delphi--from which it would appear that he had walked at least a portion of the way--when some persons concealed in the rocks, hurled down several large blocks of granite, which though not causing his death, brought him within a stone's throw of it. Several huge pieces having fallen upon him, something struck him that all was not right; and he was revolving the affair in his mind, when he found himself rolling down the precipice. He was picked up nearly lifeless, but though very much jammed, he was preserved; and though almost dashed to pieces, he was sufficiently collected, in a few days, to be enabled to go home, by another road, to Asia. It was said that Perseus had had a hand in this disgraceful affair; but he declared that even if he had wished for the death of Eumenes, he would not have been guilty of making such a desperate push for it.

This circumstance gave an impetus to the hostilities between Rome and Perseus, who was driven by the Consul Paulus Æmilius to a place called Pydna, where the two armies came to such very close quarters, that their cavalry were compelled to go halves in the same stream of water. A Roman horse happened to be drinking, when, startled by his own shadow, and not giving himself time for reflection, which would have shown him the cause of his alarm, he ran away into the camp of the enemy. The animal, though goaded on by nothing but the spur of the moment, continued his flight; and some Roman soldiers running after him into the enemy's camp, were speedily followed by so many more, that, though they had come after their own horse, they began attacking the foot of the enemy.

The battle was commenced under such unfavourable circumstances, that Æmilius, the Roman leader, thinking it all lost, declared that it was all one to him what became of him. He manifested his grief by tearing his robe to show how much he was cut up; and beating his foot impatiently on the ground, he stamped himself for ever as a man without strength of mind, in a case where fortitude was required. The Roman cavalry beginning to bear down successfully, the Consul began to bear up; and the tide of fortune being turned, the Macedonians were, according to those grave authorities--which never mince matters, though always mincing men--cut, as usual, to pieces. Perseus flew to Pella; but having omitted to close the gates after him, he was shut out from all chance of escape had he remained in the place, and he went on, therefore, to Amphipolis. There he attempted to address the inhabitants on his own behalf; but he shed so many tears, that he drowned his own voice, and choked his own utterance. He had hoped to rouse the inhabitants by going to the country with a cry; but he damped their enthusiasm with a flood of tears, when they had been looking for a flow of eloquence.

After flying from place to place, like a hunted hare, he felt the game was up, and, retreating to Samothrace, he consigned his weary head to the shelter of Castor, in whose temple he hid himself. He had managed to carry about with him a large supply of treasure, which he was anxious to save, and had hired a mariner to take him to Crete; but the money having been first sent on board, the crafty seaman, out of curiosity, weighed the gold, and immediately weighed anchor. Perseus having gone down to the beach, to embark, saw the ship in the offing, and, having watched it, he perceived that it was fairly, or rather unfairly off, with all his treasure. As he paced the shore, he felt himself quite aground, and, having no lodging for the night, or the means of obtaining one, he returned to the solitary chambers of the temple. Having a wife and family to provide for, he threw himself on the generosity of Æmilius, who gave him a subsistence, but loaded him with chains, that he might feel the weight of his obligations. The unhappy Perseus was made to walk in a triumph before the car of his conqueror; and though he had entreated that he might not be so lowered, he was still further let down, by cruel confinement in a subterranean dungeon. His fellow-prisoners are said to have offered him a sword, to end his days, but, on looking at the weapon, he very properly declined to bring his sufferings to a point, by an act of folly and wickedness. He eventually found his way to Alba, where he died in about two years; his son, Alexander, having adopted the trade of a turner, with the laudable view of turning an honest penny.

Paulus Æmilius exercised the usual privilege of a conqueror, by robbing the vanquished of all they had possessed; and Macedonia was declared free, in the customary manner, by placing it entirely under the government of its foreign victors.

The triumph of Paulus Æmilius was one of the most magnificent shows that had ever been seen, and lasted three days, during which a perpetual fair was kept up; for, among the Romans, "None but the brave deserve the fair" was a maxim literally followed. On the first day there was a procession of pictures, showing the exploits of Æmilius in the brightest colours. The second day was devoted to the carrying of the trophies and the silver coin; but, on the third, which was the grandest day of all, the gold was paraded, followed by 120 bulls, which seem to be suggestive of nothing belonging to war but its butchery. After these came the unhappy Perseus, loaded with fetters, and having about him some other links of a far more affecting kind, in the shape of his three children.

The fame spread by the fate of Perseus was general among the kings of the earth, who flocked like sheep, or rather, crawled like curs, to do homage to the Roman Senate. Perseus arrived with his head shaved, as if to show that he owed not only his crown, but his hair and all, to Rome; and he wore the tattered garments of a freed slave, as if to prove that he had not a rag to his back, but what he held at the pleasure of his masters.

All who had shown any sympathy with the cause of Perseus were cruelly persecuted, and the unfortunate Rhodians were so terrified with the bare anticipation of their fate, that they began to anticipate it in reality, by making away with themselves and with one another. On the few who remained the hardest conditions were imposed, which made their own condition the more deplorable. Carthage and the Achaian League were the only two powers that seemed to stand in the way of Rome, and of these the latter was thought so contemptible, that some Achaians who had been detained in Italy were saved by a sarcasm of Cato on their feebleness and decrepitude. "We have only to decide," said he, "whether these poor creatures shall be buried by their own grave-diggers, or by ours;" a cruel pleasantry, which, however, had a humane result, for it was decided that they should be at liberty to go home and yield to their native undertakers the profit--or loss--attendant on their funerals.

The Carthaginians had been for some years at peace with Rome, but had been much harassed by some of her allies, and particularly by Massinissa, their neighbour, in Numidia. It was annoying enough to be subjected to attack, but it was still more provoking to be unable to return the blow, which was the case with Carthage, whose hands were tied by a bond prohibiting her from going to war without Rome's permission. An appeal was addressed to Rome, which sent ambassadors, who were instructed to hear the Carthaginians, but to decide in favour of Massinissa. Carthage at length grew tired of allowing Rome to hold the scales of justice; for, though the scales might have been true, a false weight was always attached to one side, which gave it a vast preponderance.

The Carthaginians, therefore, took up arms against Massinissa, who, though ninety years of age, fought with great determination; for he felt, probably, that he was too old to fly, and that his only chance was to make that determined stand so well adapted to a time of life when progress is somewhat difficult. The Carthaginians were worsted, but they were not yet quite at their worst, until Rome was seized with the idea of destroying their city. Cato was especially bent upon this design, or rather he pursued it with unbending obstinacy, for he finished every speech with the words "_Delenda est Carthago_," which may be freely rendered into "Carthage must be smashed." Whatever might have been the commencement of his oration, he always ended with the same words, and whether he spoke in the Senate, the market-place, or his own house, though the premises might be different, he always came to the same conclusion. He went about as a man with one idea, and his conduct was almost that of a monomaniac; for, if he met a friend in the street, and conversed on different or indifferent subjects, he would take his farewell with the accustomed words, "_Valete; delenda est Carthago_,"--"Good-bye; we must smash Carthage." During a debate in the Senate he pulled some figs out of his pocket, which he exhibited to some of his brother members as being "remarkably fine." As the fruit was being examined, he observed, that he had "picked them up in Africa;" that "they were capital;" that "there were plenty more where those came from," and, in a word, he added, "_Delenda est Carthago_"--"We really must smash Carthage."

Rome agreed with Cato, more especially when he pointed out that the place was exceedingly rich; for the Romans, whenever there was anything to be got by robbery, were quite prepared for violence. The Consuls, M. Manilius and L. Marcius Censorinus, assembled with a large force in Sicily, where some ambassadors appeared from Carthage; but the only result of negotiation was an order that 300 members of the best Carthaginian families should be sent over by way of hostages. The Romans then passed over into Utica, where the Carthaginian ambassadors again tried to treat, but the treatment they experienced was a demand for the instant giving up of all their arms and ammunition. Commissioners were sent into the city to see the orders carried out, which comprised the carrying out of 200,000 suits of armour, and 3000 catapults.[62] The Carthaginians appear to have lost the use of their heads when they so quietly resigned their arms; but when they were told that they must, in the next place, abandon Carthage, and build another city ten miles off, they began to feel--somewhat too late--that it was time to defend themselves.

The Carthaginian ambassadors proceeded to the usual expression of anguish by tearing their hair out by the roots, instead of trying to pluck up a little courage. Some, who were already bald, rolled themselves in the dust; and only a few went, like sensible men, to communicate to the Carthaginians the doom with which their city was threatened.

The receipt of the news seems to have deprived the Carthaginians of all their natural intelligence; for their first step was to maltreat the envoys. An effort was then made to save the city, by shutting the gates; and the citizens armed themselves with stones, having determined to set their lives upon the cast of these unwarlike missiles. It is impossible not to respect and admire the heroism displayed under the very trying circumstances; but, unfortunately, trying was of little use, for the chances were all against the Carthaginians. Hasdrubal, who had been living in exile, at the head of 20,000 men--a somewhat large party to remain in banishment--was sent for to take the command, and occupied a post outside the city. The inhabitants, having given up all their ordinary arms to the enemy, supplied fresh ammunition by devoting all their gold and silver to the furnace; and it was a melting sight to see their treasure sacrificed for this patriotic object. The women cut off their hair, to devote it to the making of crossbows, and the sex took a characteristic pride in furnishing as many strings to a bow as possible. They worked so energetically, that they are said to have fabricated as many as 500 javelins, 140 bucklers, and 300 swords each day; but this statement seems to involve so much of fabrication, that we find difficulty in believing it.

The resistance of Carthage was obstinate; and the confidence of Rome led to a sort of indolence on the part of the latter, which protracted the siege, until a new life was put into the affair, by the appointment of young P. C. Scipio, the son of Paulus Æmilius, to the Consulship. The Carthaginians also were urged to fresh exertion, and a party of 300 waded through the harbour, with torches in their hands, to burn some engines; but the water damped their efforts, which might be compared to an attempt to set the Thames on fire; and all who were not drowned were glad to make their way back again. The suggestion of the use of flame was an unfortunate one for Carthage, since it seemed to cause the breaking in of a new light upon the Romans, who had recourse to incendiarism in their turn for the accomplishment of their object. Having got within the walls, they ignited several houses, and, carrying fire from street to street, they invested their cause with a glare which is none the less hateful for having been the glare of victory.

After nearly everybody had been killed, 50,000 men and women came forth with olive branches to meet the conqueror; and 900 Roman deserters were still stowed away in the citadel. Hasdrubal yielded; but his wife, who was a strong-minded woman, reviled him in a speech from the ramparts, and, parading her poor helpless children up and down for a few minutes, she threw them before her, and ultimately flung herself into the burning ruins. Preceding historians have expressed their admiration of this frantic female, for the act of murder and suicide which we have described; but we must confess our total inability to appreciate the heroism of a piece of cruelty and cowardice, involving a large amount of brutal daring, but wholly destitute of moral fortitude.

Carthage was now utterly destroyed, and Scipio, who had been the main instrument of its having been set on fire, is said to have shed tears over its smouldering ashes; but we should be inclined to attribute the fact to the smoke having got into his eyes, rather than to any feeling of humanity. Even those who give him credit for sensibility, accuse him of selfishness, for they say that he alluded to the possibility that the same fate would befal his own country; and they add that, while thinking of his home, he quoted Homer, who had foretold the doom of Troy through the mouth of Hector.[63] The Romans having possession of the place, razed to the ground every part that had escaped the flames; but they lowered themselves even still more completely than they levelled the city. Thus fell a place which had maintained a noble rivalry with Rome, and which, in many respects, surpassed her proud competitor.

The greatness of Carthage had been, undoubtedly, the cause of that littleness of feeling which had been manifested towards it by Cato, who could not bear the idea that there should exist a city rivalling in grandeur the place he inhabited. The walls, which were triple, were divided into two stories, the upper for men, and the lower for brutes; the former comprising barracks for soldiers, and the latter being fitted up as stables for elephants.

The chief glory of the place was, however, to be found in its aqueducts, which ran in a long line of seventy miles, and of which the people had more reason to be proud than of even a still longer line of ancestors. That a place surrounded almost by aqueducts should have been destroyed by fire, is an extraordinary fact, though it is possible that turncocks may have been neglectful, and if called upon to turn the water on, they may have turned it off in favour of some more agreeable engagement.

There were not so many spoils as had been expected, for everything was spoilt by the mischief that had been done, and though there had been plenty of gold, the fearful amount of violent change had so scattered the gold, that there was not so much remaining as there otherwise would have been. With a touch of that honour which the proverb says is to be found among thieves, Scipio called upon the places formerly plundered by Carthage to reclaim their goods; and the people of Agrigentum demanded a brazen Bull they had once used as an instrument of torture, though the invention was so discreditable to humanity, that its inventors ought to have been ashamed to ask for it back again. Among the prizes secured by the Romans, was a very small parcel of books, including a little work on agriculture, by Mago, which had taught the Carthaginians to till the earth, though not how to keep their ground, for they had lost every foot of it.

Carthage became a province of Rome, under the name of Africa, and Scipio, who subsequently styled himself Africanus, enjoyed one of those triumphs, which were in fact disgraces to the object they were designed to honour. Part of the "triumph" consisted in the barbarity of throwing as food to lions the fugitives that had fallen into his hands, and games were celebrated, in which death to the conquered was the chief sport to the conqueror.

Macedonia, which was groaning under the freedom forced upon it by Rome, was glad to become the slave of everybody who offered to ease it of the obnoxious burden. The Macedonians, therefore, became the dupes of three impostors in succession, who, with all their imposition, were less objectionable than the hardships imposed by Rome in her character of liberator to the world in general. The impostors--one of whom was a runaway gladiator--were in turn subdued, and Macedonia was swallowed up by Rome's insatiable appetite for conquest.

Of the three pretenders just alluded to, the only one who had been able to maintain his ground--though, by the way, the ground was never his to maintain--was a young man, who declared himself to be Philip, the son of Perseus. The youth was certainly very like his alleged father; and, upon the strength of the resemblance in features, he put upon his claim such a bold face, that the Macedonians favoured it. They put their crown upon his head, and the kingly name seemed to have invested the young adventurer with a tower of strength; for he was successful in an attack upon the Romans, under the consul Juventius. The impostor, however, soon lost control over himself, and there was at once an end to his influence over his new subjects. They threw him off, and he was compelled to take refuge in a Court inhabited by one Bysas, a petty Thracian prince, who gave up, or, more probably, sold, the fugitive, who had sought his hospitality. The pretender, who had led away so many others, was eventually led away himself, and made to march as a "frightful example" in the triumph of Metellus.

About this time the Achaians, who had entered into a league, began to quarrel among themselves; for Sparta, like a spoiled child, wanted to have its own way, and sulked, as it were, alone in a corner, apart from the rest of the confederacy. Rome was appealed to for advice, and Roman ambassadors came to Corinth; but they were so unpopular, that on a visit to the theatre, where they had gone, expecting fair play, they were insulted and pelted by the audience. This irritated the Romans, and an army was sent, under Mummius, to encounter the Greek general Diæus, who made so certain of victory, that he had seats erected for the women and children to see him win a battle. He had prepared everything in the neighbourhood of Corinth, and appropriating the privilege of the brave who are said to deserve the fair, he clustered a large bevy of female beauty round the spot of his intended achievement. The ladies were all expectation, and Diæus was all confidence, until Mummius made his appearance, and in a very few minutes sent Diæus flying towards Megalopolis. Here he entered his own abode, and setting fire to the premises, celebrated, with the most dismal of house-warmings, the defeat that took the place of his intended victory.