SECOND SIEGE, A.C. 69.
Vespasian was just raised to the empire, but he still had to tear the diadem from the brow of the barbarous Vitellius, and maintain the choice of the legions with the sword. The new emperor sent Primus, one of his lieutenants, and a very skilful general, against the tyrant of Rome. After several advantages, Primus attacked two legions posted before Cremona. The Roman legions fought against each other like the most determined enemies. Primus was near losing the battle; but his courage rallied his troops when on the point of giving way, he brought them back to the charge, and gained a complete victory. His army was eager to enter Cremona, but was prevented by the arrival of six legions of the opposite party. A fresh nocturnal combat instantly ensued between the victorious soldiers and their newly-arrived enemies. Success was doubtful; in the obscurity of night, address and courage were equally useless; they slaughtered each other indiscriminately,—their blows fell as frequently upon their friends as upon their foes. At length, however, the moon shed her beams over the bloody scene, and gave a more certain direction to the fury of the combatants; the troops of Primus had this friendly light at their backs. In this situation, the legions opposed to them, deceived by the shade, aimed their arrows badly, and shot them short of the mark. Primus profiting by this advantage, encouraged his soldiers, redoubled his exertions, and added the prudence of a consummate captain to the bravery of an enterprising soldier. Nothing could resist him; his enemies fled before him; and Primus was victor a second time. This carnage was signalized by one of those tragical events which are only met with in civil wars: a son killed his own father without knowing him; he recognised him as he was expiring, and, transported with grief, he gave himself up to despair, cursing the war which had made him an involuntary parricide. The victorious troops were indefatigable; believing that nothing was done till all was done, they attacked and carried the camp which surrounded Cremona. This place must have fallen into their hands, and the inhabitants surrendered, in the hopes of meriting some clemency by a prompt and voluntary submission; but they were deceived—the greedy legions would not be disappointed of their booty. Cremona was pillaged, its walls were razed, its citizens were slaughtered, its edifices were burnt, and the city was almost entirely destroyed by troops which ought to have respected the ancient allies of the Roman people and the citizens of the same empire.