A.C. 264.
The power of the Romans had struggled during nearly five hundred years against the peoples of Italy; and it was not till after many and severe toils that they succeeded in laying the foundations of an empire which was doomed to embrace nearly the known universe. Rome, mistress of those vast countries which extend from the Rubicon to the southern extremity of Italy, became anxious to carry her conquests abroad. She ventured to attack the forces of Carthage, at that time the most flourishing republic in existence. The union of the Carthaginians with Hiero, king of Syracuse, for the destruction of the Messinians and the siege of Messina, were the pretexts for the first war between these two ambitious republics, whilst the conquest of Sicily was the real object. Messina having placed itself under the protection of Rome, Appius Claudius was ordered to march to the succour of that oppressed city; but a strait of the sea had to be crossed, and the Romans, without maritime experience, had nothing but boats, rudely constructed, very much resembling Indian canoes. Was it possible for such a fleet to resist that of the Carthaginians, well equipped and numerous, besides being accustomed to the domination of the seas? Appius at once perceived his weakness; and yet it was necessary that he should arrive at Messina quickly, as the enemy was pressing it very closely. In this embarrassment, the consul had recourse to an ingenious stratagem: he pretended to endeavour to cross the strait, but seeming to be terrified at the sight of the Carthaginians, he took to flight suddenly, and feigned to abandon the enterprise. The Carthaginians, fully persuaded that he would not return, but was gone back to Rome, retired, as if there was nothing more to be feared. Appius, taking advantage of this belief, crossed the strait in the night-time, and arrived safely in Sicily. The place at which he landed was close to the camp of the Syracusans; and the consul exhorted his troops to fall at once upon the enemy, promising them an easy victory;—in fact, it proved so. The army of Hiero could not sustain the impetuous shock of the Romans: it fled, and abandoned the entrances of Messina to the conquerors. The consul was received like a liberator from heaven; and the joy of the citizens was the greater, from their having been in utter despair. Appius, taking advantage of his victory, attacked the camp of the Carthaginians; but he was repulsed with some loss, and forced to retreat. He was pursued, which was what he desired and expected; he faced about, and fortune seemed to change with the situation of the place. The Carthaginians could not stand against the courage of the Romans, but took to flight in their turn, after losing many men. And thus Rome commenced the first Punic war.
SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1282.
Stung almost to madness by the celebrated Sicilian Vespers, Charles of Anjou collected all the troops in his power, set forward on his march, accompanied by an apostolic legate, and invested Messina, which he pressed closely. The unfortunate inhabitants, upon the point of having their city carried by assault, offered to capitulate. They promised to return to their duty, if the monarch would forget the past, and engage not to give to the French either places or magistracy in their city. Charles replied, that he intended to govern as to him should seem best; and that, if they did not promptly submit, they might prepare to be treated in the same manner as they had treated the French. The Messinese, irritated by this disheartening reply, swore that they would rather devour their own children than become slaves for ever. It was in vain that endeavours were made to bring them back to a more prudent line of conduct; the most terrible menaces were equally vain: they would listen to nothing: they declared that it would be better to die like brave men, than to be given up to the executioner like base malefactors. Old men, women, and children, all took up arms in the common cause. The king continued to press the siege very warmly; but the Messinese, animated by a generous despair, defended themselves with such heroic valour, that they gave Don Pedro of Arragon time to come to their succour. This prince, at the head of a fleet of fifty galleys, which had for admiral Roger Doria, the greatest seaman of his age, advanced into the strait of Messina, for the purpose of carrying off the French fleet, which lay there without defence. Charles, being informed of this project, thought it evident he should be ruined if he continued the siege; so he retreated without obtaining his revenge; but he could not save his vessels, of which the enemy took twenty-nine, and burnt thirty.
This war lasted many years, and was almost always unfortunate for the house of Anjou, which was at length obliged to share Sicily with that of Arragon, and to content itself with Calabria, Apulia, the Terra di Lavoro, and the Abruzzi, under the title of the kingdom of Naples.
We cannot leave the beautiful island of Sicily, where such interesting sieges have detained us so long, without offering our young readers a reflection upon the fate of that earthly paradise. From the shores of the Mediterranean to the summit of Etna, Sicily may be said to produce all that is desirable in most of the climates of the earth, and that almost spontaneously. But it is this spontaneity that we think creates its misfortune: Providence neither favours countries, nor limits its blessings to them, without countervailing checks or advantages. Sicily, from the time of the tyrants of Syracuse, under whom it was at least reckoned for something in the world, has always been under the subjugation of foreigners: successively enslaved by the Romans, the Vandals, the Arabs, the Normans; under the vassalage of the popes, the French, the Germans, and the Spaniards; always hating its masters; revolting against them, without making any efforts worthy of liberty; and continually exciting seditions, only to change its chains;—such is the history of Sicily; and only because it is one of the richest spots in the world—is the granary of the country that owns it—and produces this best of all wealth, as we have said, almost spontaneously. Where man is not constrained to gain his bread by the sweat of his brow, he degenerates; the worst of passions are engendered by idleness; and from the indulgence of them follows that loss of self-respect which makes him indifferent to liberty, careless of his rights, and the willing victim of the highest bidder to his vices. It is a curious fact, but no less a fact, that the most productive countries in the world are seldom ruled over by the inhabitants indigenous to them.
CORINTH.
A.C. 244.
Antigonus Deson, king of Macedon, had taken possession of the isthmus and citadel of Corinth, which were called the fetters of Greece, because he who was the master of them dominated over that country. Aratus, chief of the Achæans, formed the project of depriving him of this important place; and the following is the manner in which he had the good fortune to succeed. Erginus, an inhabitant of Corinth, having come to Sicyon, formed an intimacy with a well-known banker, a friend of Aratus. In the course of conversation, they happened to speak of the citadel of Corinth, and Erginus said that, going to see his brother Diocles, who was in garrison there, he had remarked, on the steepest side, a little path, cut crosswise in the rock, which led to a place where the wall was very low. The banker asked him, with a laugh, if he and his brother had a mind to make their fortunes? Erginus guessed what he meant, and promised to sound his brother upon the subject. A few days after he returned, and undertook to conduct Aratus to the spot where the wall was not more than fifteen feet high, and, with his brother, to aid him in the rest of the enterprise. Aratus promised to give them sixty thousand crowns if the affair succeeded; but the money must be deposited with the banker, for the security of the two brothers, and as Aratus had it not, and would not borrow it for fear of betraying his secret, the generous Achæan took the greater part of his gold and silver plate, with his wife’s jewels, and placed them in pledge with the banker, for the whole sum. Several accidents delayed this noble enterprise; but nothing daunted the intrepid defenders of liberty. When all was ready, Aratus ordered his troops to pass the night under arms, and taking with him four hundred picked men, the most part of whom were ignorant of what they were going to do, and who carried ladders with them, he led them straight to the gates of the city, by the side of the walls of the Temple of Juno. It was a beautiful moonlight night, which made them justly fear they should be discovered. Fortunately, there arose on the side towards the sea a thick mist, which covered all the environs of the city, and created a complete darkness. There all the troops sat down, and took off their shoes, in order that they might make less noise in marching, and might ascend the ladders better. In the mean time, Aratus, with seven brave, determined young men, equipped as travellers, slipped into the city without being perceived, and in the first place killed the sentinel and the guards on duty. They then applied their ladders to the walls, and Aratus made a hundred of the most resolute ascend with him, desiring the others to follow as best they could. He drew up the ladders, descended into the city, and, at the head of his troops, marched, full of joy, straight towards the citadel, without being perceived. As they advanced, they met a guard of four men, who carried a light. The shade concealed the adventurers, and, crouching against some walls, they waited for these soldiers, who, on passing before the Achæans, were attacked all at once. Three of them lost their lives; the fourth, wounded by a sword in the head, fled away crying that the enemy was in the city. A moment after, all the trumpets sounded the alarm, and the whole city was roused by the noise. The streets were soon filled with people, who ran hither and thither; and were illuminated by a multitude of flambeaux, which were lighted everywhere, both down in the city, and upon the walls, the ramparts, and the citadel. Aratus, without being dismayed, held on his way, climbing, with difficulty, the steep sides of the rocks, from having missed the path which led to the wall in a winding, circuitous manner. But, as if by a miracle, the clouds passed from before the moon, and revealed to him the whole labyrinth, till he had gained the bottom of the fortifications. Then, by a similar fortunate chance, the clouds gathered again, and the moon being concealed, replunged both besieged and besiegers into profound darkness. The three hundred soldiers whom Aratus had left without, near the Temple of Juno, having obtained entrance into the city, which they found filled with confusion and tumult, and not being able to find the path their leader had taken, clung close to the foot of a precipice, under the shadow of a great rock which concealed them, and waited in that retired place to see how fortune should dispose of their fate. The general of the Achæans in the mean time was fighting valiantly upon the ramparts of the citadel. They heard the noise of this combat, but could not tell whence it came, from the cries of the warriors being repeated a thousand times by the surrounding echoes. The Macedonians defended themselves with vigour: Archelaus, who commanded for King Antigonus, thought to overwhelm the Achæans by charging them in the rear. He placed himself at the head of a good body of troops, and, with sound of trumpet, marched against Aratus, filing before the three hundred concealed soldiers, without seeing them. The Achæans allowed him to pass on; then, rising all at once, as from an ambuscade in which they had been placed on purpose, they fell upon his party, killed many of them, put the rest to flight, and came to the succour of their general, uttering loud cries of victory. The moon once again shone forth in its splendour, and by favour of its light, the soldiers of Aratus united, and made so vigorous a charge that they drove the enemy from the walls, and when the first rays of the sun gleamed upon the citadel, it was as if to shed glory upon their victory. The Corinthians flocked to the standard of Aratus, who refused to sheath the sword till he had taken prisoners all the soldiers of the king of Macedon, and thus secured both his conquest and the liberty of Corinth.