Destroy Carthage Page 10

  The destination of the army was not revealed, but few, least of all the Carthaginians, had any doubt. In a hopeless position from which to negotiate, the Punic government prepared to buy peace at almost any price. Popular leaders held responsible for the Numidian war were condemned, among them the de­feated general Hasdrubal, and the pro-Roman faction gained prominence.

  But attempts at rapprochement were frustrated by the Romans. Carthaginian diplomats, seeking the terms on which the affray with Masinissa might be pardoned, were kept on tenterhooks with obscure allusions and veiled threats. The ancient historians put it simply. Asked repeatedly how Carth­age might make amends, Rome replied that she wanted only 'satisfaction.' Asked what 'satisfaction' meant, the Romans rejoined that the Carthaginians knew that best themselves.

  The technique, diplomatic war waged by confusion, pro­duced a bonus for its exponents. While Carthage grew in­creasingly desperate to avert invasion, her western neighbour, Utica, lost nerve altogether and placed herself at Rome's dis­posal.

  Assured a safe port of disembarcation in Africa, the Roman expeditionary force advanced to Sicily, increasing pressure on the Punic government. At this point, its members abandoned hope of buying peace through an indemnity or territorial bargain and, like Utica, offered a formal submission (deditio in fidem). Technically, the deditio gave Rome possession of all lands, cities and towns of the Carthaginians, who then held their freedom and way of life by concession rather than sovereign right.

  On this legality, Rome justified the course upon which she was already set. The stock-in-trade of governments does not change. Among several unpleasant aspects of politics familiar to the modern world, the ancients knew all about cold war, class war, trade war, terrorism, martial coups, purges, assassin­ations, the so-called liberation of peoples and a dozen forms of legal and diplomatic bad faith. But it would be hard to find a more striking example of cynical deception by the leaders of a great state than that now employed by Rome to achieve her ends.

  Five Carthaginian ambassadors arranged the deditio, a gesture their Italian hosts at last applauded as a wise move. Carthage, the Romans pledged, would be assured in return 'her territory, her sacred rites, her tombs, her liberty and her possessions.' The precise words are from Diodorus Siculus. The Carthaginians, for their part, were to provide 300 hostages from senatorial families, and await further instructions from the consuls in charge of the expeditionary army. This would be moved from Sicily and stationed at Utica. In the guise of protector, therefore - but with a legal claim to more deadly powers - Rome had secured the crossing and landing of her armada from all opposition. It was left to the consuls to complete a ^ame of ruthless calculation. They were two: M. Manilius and L. Marcus Censorinus. At Utica they staged a massive display of military power for envoys from Carthage, but their tactics were still diplomatic. With Rome's protection, they claimed, the Carthaginians had no need of their own arms and ought to surrender them.

  To the remonstrances of the envoys, Censorinus (the more eloquent of the consuls, so Appian pictured him) replied that if the Carthaginians sincerely desired peace they would com­ply. 'Come now, hand over your weapons, public and private, and your war machines.'

  Whatever its suspicions, the Punic government had yielded too much to change its acquiescent policy at this stage. Ancient report quantified the material surrendered as 200,000 sets of arms and 2,000 catapults, together with countless spears and javelins. The figures, disproportionate to Carthaginian troop strengths at any time, let alone since Zama, may at least be taken as a sign that the Roman invigilators were thorough.

  Censorinus summoned the Punic representatives to Utica once more, this time for the denoument. Perhaps fearful of the outcome, Carthage sent a delegation of unusual size, in­cluding senators, priests and leading businessmen. Its aim, according to Appian, was to impress the consuls by its import­ance, but the Romans were unmoved. Civic pomp was no substitute for weaponry; disarmed, Carthage lacked convincing argument. Her envoys listened in stunned silence as Censorinus disclosed his orders to destroy the metropolis.

  Accept with courage the final command of Rome. Sur­render Carthage to us and withdraw into your territory, remaining at least ten miles from the coast. We intend to raze your city to the ground. Casuistically, it could be claimed that such instructions were not inconsistent with Rome's earlier assurances, which ap­parently failed to specify the fate of the city as distinct from that of its occupants. Explaining the order for inland settle­ment, Censorinus pointed to the maritime element in Punic history. 'When you look at the sea you recall great fleets, their spoils, your docklands and arsenals.' The Carthaginians, he concluded, must forget their imperial past and consider a new, pastoral existence.

  It was, as everyone understood, a bleak prospect. Large urban communities cannot be transposed to open country and survive intact. Denied ships, wharves, workshops and pro­tective battlements, the mass of Carthaginians would either starve to death or become the defenceless prey of tribal war­riors. As much was indicated by the outburst of protest with which the embassy responded when the full extent of Roman perfidy was evident.

  Bitterly, its members reminded the consuls of Carthaginian compliance with the treaty agreed after Zama, of the punctili­ous payment of the indemnity and of the city's wholly accommodating approach to Rome since the war with Numidia. Solemnly, one speaker, Banno, urged the Romans to consider the reputation of their own state and to reflect on the ultimate judgement of history.

  His appeal was discounted. All protests unavailing, the Carthaginian representatives weighed their own position. Some, deeply implicated in the policies which had led to the present pass, sought refuge with the consuls, or fled for foreign sanc­tuaries, fearful of the wrath of their compatriots.

  The rest returned grimly to Carthage, passing tight-lipped through a city already inflamed by rumour. Accounts of what followed vividly illustrate the trauma of a great commercial state confronted with the vision of imminent extinction. In the senate, members listened horrified to the news of the re­turned ambassadors, interrupting with cries of profound dis­may. These, confirming the worst fears of the crowds outside, provoked a political reaction of the most violent character.

  At a stroke, the government was swept aside in an eruption of despairing anger described by Appian as orgiastic. Pro-Roman senators and others of the appeasement faction were torn to pieces or stoned to death. Italians found in the city were hounded and massacred. Gods were abused. Mothers whose children had been given as hostages besieged the auth­orities, dementedly venting grief and recriminations.

  Born of impassioned hatred for the faithless enemy, a new government of popular resistance arose from the bloodbath. Hastening to the city armouries, its supporters found nothing but empty stands. Equally desolate were the great horse-shoe stalls in the triple walls, once occupied by squadrons of elephants. At the naval docks, long-standing reserves of timber testified to the absence of naval construction in accordance with the treaty of 201.

  If the Romans were to be opposed, it seemed likely that few Carthaginians could depend on more than their bare hands.

  But if any paused in their fury to contemplate the outcome, a defence, however desperate, must have appealed to the pas­sionate Punic temperament as a better end than abject de­privation in exile. Ten miles away, the bristling cohorts of Censorinus and Manilius eagerly awaited their destructive task, and the loot involved. Contemptuously, Carthage slammed her gates and declared herself at war with Rome.

  17: Came the Crow

  The springs of Catoist bitterness toward Carthage, and the ex­ceptional ruthlessness employed in disarming her, could be traced to the Sicily vacated by Pyrrhus. In legend, the Greek looked back at the island as his fleet withdrew and sighed prophetically: 'What a beautiful battlefield we leave to Rome and Carthage!'

  Until then, the history of Romano-Punic relations had been pacific, even co-operative. In the beginning, Carthage, the richer and greater power, had regard
ed the Romans, like the Etruscans (whose kings indeed governed Rome in the 6th century), as a northern check to Greek ambitions in the west.

  When Rome, shaking off Etruscan dominance, established her republic in 509, a treaty with Carthage regulated their respective spheres. By this agreement the Romans would not sail west of Carthage, and undertook to trade elsewhere in Africa and in Sardinia only under the supervision of the Punic authorities. The Carthaginians pledged in return to respect Roman interests in the Latin towns and not to pursue colonial ambitions in Latium.

  The ability of Carthage to impose sweeping trade restrictions was even more emphatic in a further treaty, signed in 348, now excluding Roman merchants from the whole of North Africa, as well as from Sardinia and southern Spain. Soon afterwards, Rome, incorporating most of Campania in her con­federacy, was plunged into bitter conflict with the neighbour­ing Samnites. While the Latin power was preoccupied securing and expanding her Italian territories, Carthage continued to advance her mercantile dominance. In 306, a third agreement consolidated her trade monopolies.

  The arrival of Pyrrhus in the 3rd century drew the two states together in common cause. While Roman man­power bled the Greek king of the strength to sustain his bid in Sicily, Carthage promised silver to help finance Rome's re­sistance, and ships to offset her lack of sea power. Eliminating the Greek challenge, the combination left western supremacy disputable between its components.

  Within a few years of the departure of Pyrrhus, his fabled prediction was historic fact.

  Responsibility for the long and costly conflict known as the First Punic War is debateable. Philinus of Agrigentum, a pro- Carthaginian historian of the time, held the Romans to blame for crossing troops to Sicily in contravention of a treaty for­bidding such a movement. Polybius, writing later, denied that the Romans were in breach of faith. At least it may be agreed that, sooner or later, a clash was inevitable.

  Hitherto ranked by the Greeks as barbarians, the Romans had emerged from the widely reported onslaught of Pyrrhus with new status and confidence. From now on there could be no doubt that Rome was a major power. From as far as Egypt, envoys hastened to propose pacts. Stable in government, ex­perienced in warfare, with large reserves of disciplined man­power, she could hardly fail to disturb the equanimity of rival states.

  Economically, Carthage was a rival whose jealously pro­tected advantages were bound to prick Rome. With naval dominance, the Punic power might have felt complacent were it not for the stepping-stone of Sicily, the logical extension of Italian empire for a state without a sea force. The short hop across the straits could be made by using ferry boats. In short, the temptation for Rome to stake an interest in the island was dangerously at odds with Carthage's long-held strategic view of Sicily.

  Ostensibly, the war arose from an incident. For some time Messana had been occupied by Campanian mercenaries, the Mamertines (after Mamers, the Oscan Mars), who had come to Sicily originally to serve Agathocles. Settled on the straits, the piratical Mamertines were such a nuisance to the people of Syracuse that, about 265, the new ruler of that city, Hiero II, decided to drive them from the island.

  The Mamertines, steadfast opponents of Pyrrhus in former days, sought help from his other ex-enemies. Both Rome and Carthage responded with units to reinforce Messana's garrison. When, in circumstances now uncertain, the Carthaginian com­mander was induced to withdraw in favour of the Roman guard, the scene was set for 'escalation'.

  Roman troops were in Messana. To eject them, Carthage joined forces with Hiero. It was an unnatural alliance, con­ceived without enthusiasm, and short-lived. Syracuse had lost her former power; Carthage had had no time to raise her mercenaries. So far, operations were on a restricted scale. Then, in 264, the Romans crossed reinforcements to Messana on a fleet of rafts, raised the siege imposed by Hiero and marched on Syracuse.

  Hiero now had second thoughts. A number of Sicilian cities, always ready to profit from upsets, had already made cause with the Italians. Hiero took the same step, contracting an alliance with Rome that was to endure for the rest of his long life. It was a prudent move, placing him with Masinissa among the few foreign kings to perceive the huge potential strength of the Roman state.

  His defection, giving Rome control of the east coast and en­couraging other Siceliots to make terms with her, left Carthage no option but to mobilize in full force. The war that ensued was to span a generation, produce the heaviest casualties then known to history and lead to radical strategic innovation on both sides.

  Never before had Carthage's dependence on a hired army been tested against an enemy with so vast a reserve of fighting men and such efficiency of mobilization. Embarrassed by the usual delays in mustering, the Carthaginians were compelled to adopt a defensive role in their Sicilian strongholds (Acragas, Lilybaeum, Panormus and elsewhere) until their mercenaries were organized.

  Rome, on the other hand, was impeded by the lack of a navy and maritime tradition. So long as Carthage's fleets were un­challenged, the well-fortified Punic ports in Sicily could with­stand indefinite siege by land, their provisions assured by sea. At the same time, the Italian coast was vulnerable to naval raids. At last, Rome was under pressure to build a fleet.

  Meanwhile, her operations centred on Acragas, an easterly Punic base which, being inland, could be sealed off by Roman troops. In 262, four legions were deployed in the investment. Five months brought the city near starvation, then the full mercenary army of Carthage arrived in Sicily. Including Iberians, Celts and Ligurians, its strength is uncertain, but events suggest it was fairly well matched against the Romans at Acragas. Neither its commander, Hanno, nor the consuls besieging the city, were eager to give battle.

  Indeed, the opposed armies faced each other inactively for fully two months while conditions in Acragas deteriorated and the siege force itself, cut off from supplies by Hanno, suffered. Finally, signals from the garrison notifying the critical plight of the citizens prompted the Punic general to action.

  Tactically, Acragas was a Roman victory. Hanno retired from a day-long battle in moderate order but undoubtedly the loser. Strategically, the outcome was more complex. For one thing, the engagement enabled the garrison of Acragas to evacuate without loss. For another, the Roman commanders (L. Postumius Megellus and Q. Mamilius Vitulus) committed a re­sounding error in sacking the city and enslaving its Siceliot occupants.

  A great deal rested on the sympathies of the Siceliot com­munities, a number of which had already given valuable help to the Romans. Now the mood changed. Widespread anger at the treatment of the Acragans did much to consolidate sup­port in the island for Carthage. Far from exploiting the victory over Hanno, the Romans lost ground, on balance, during 261. It was, however, an auspicious year for them in one field.

  The date marks Rome's decision to build a fleet. So far, the few ships she possessed had largely been provided and manned by Italiots, the socii navales or 'naval allies.' Resolved at last to take to the water, the 'landlubbers' displayed their practical nature in a telling light.

  Their models, Greek and Punic, included (according to Poly- bius) a Carthaginian quinquereme or five-banked vessel wrecked on the coast of southern Italy. But the finer graces of such elegant craft were not for a people who frankly admitted their limitations as sailors. The 120 warships which comprised the first production order were of a species the precise likeness of which had never been seen before.

  Heavier and slower than the sleek galleys of Carthage - as befitted a race which liked its feet on a solid base - these pon­derous barges were peculiar for the extraordinary superstruc­ture on their foredecks. Holding no hope of matching the seamanship of an enemy whose customary ramming and oar- smashing techniques demanded skilful manoeuvres, the Romans had resolved to make sea-fighting as much like land warfare as possible. To this end, they had equipped their ships with draw-bridges by which the legionaries on board could charge the crews of hostile vessels.

  These bridges, four feet wide and twenty-f
our feet in effec­tive length, pivoted on the base of a special foremast which supported the operating mechanism: an unwieldly boom and pulley system connected by rope with the far end of the board­ing-bridge. Beneath this protruded a sharp spike to engage the deck of the enemy.

  From its metal beak and violent pecking action as it dropped, the contraption came to be known as a corvus (crow). In battle, the crows were dropped hopefully on any hostile deck which came in range until the spike engaged. Then, protected by their shields, the Roman marines would storm the grappled enemy.

  The first test of the new Roman navy was a fiasco. An ad­vance force of 17 ships sent to the Sicilian theatre was chal­lenged by 20 Carthaginian vessels among the Lipari islands. Here, the raw crews, recruited from elements of the proletarii considered undesirable by land commanders, promptly de­serted and the squadron surrendered without a blow. But if the Punic seamen derided the unsightly craft of their novice opponents, they were soon to learn a lesson familiar in the annals of warfare: namely, that relatively crude im­provisation can achieve surprising objectives if confidently handled.