Two days after, they brought forward their ships with an intention of fighting in good earnest, but found the enemy ready for them. This battle was to determine the fate of both parties. The conflict was long and obstinate, each exerting themselves to the utmost,—the one to save their country, now reduced to the last extremity, and the other to complete their victory. During the fight, the Carthaginian brigantines, running along under the large Roman ships, broke to pieces sometimes their sterns, and at other times their rudders and oars; and when briskly attacked, retreated with surprising swiftness, and returned as quickly to the charge. At last, after the two armies had fought with equal success till sunset, the Carthaginians thought proper to retire; not that they believed themselves overcome, but in order to begin the fight again on the morrow. Part of their ships not being able to run swiftly enough into the harbour, because the mouth of it was too narrow, took shelter under a very spacious terrace, which had been thrown up against the walls to unload goods, on the side of which a small rampart had been raised during the war, to prevent the enemy from possessing themselves of it. Here the fight was again renewed with more vigour than ever, and lasted till late at night. The Carthaginians suffered very much, and the few ships that got off sailed for refuge to the city. As soon as morning dawned, Scipio attacked the terrace and carried it, though with much difficulty; after which, he made a lodgment there, fortified himself on it, and built a brick wall close to those of the city, and of the same height. When it was finished, he commanded four thousand men to get on the top of it, and to discharge a perpetual shower of darts and arrows upon the enemy, which did great execution, because the two walls being of equal height, almost every missile took effect. Thus ended this campaign.
During the winter quarters, Scipio endeavoured to overpower the enemy’s troops without the city, who very much harassed the convoys that brought his provisions, and protected such as were sent to the besieged. With this purpose, he attacked a neighbouring fort called Nepheris, in which they were accustomed to shelter themselves. In the last action an immense number of soldiers, and peasants who had been enlisted, were cut to pieces, and the fort was carried with great difficulty, after a siege of two-and-twenty days. The capture of this fort was followed by the surrender of almost all the strongholds in Africa, and contributed very much to the taking of Carthage itself, into which, from that time, it was almost impossible to bring any provisions.
Early in the spring, Scipio attacked, at one and the same time, the harbour called Cothon, and the citadel. Having possessed himself of the wall which surrounded this port, he threw himself into the great square of the city that was near it, whence was an ascent to the citadel, up three streets, on each side of which were houses, from the tops whereof a shower of darts was discharged upon the Romans, who were obliged, before they could advance further, to force the houses they first came to, and post themselves in them, in order to dislodge thence the enemy who fought from the neighbouring houses. This combat, which was carried on from the tops and from every part of the houses, continued six days, during which a dreadful slaughter was made. To clear the streets and make way for the troops, the Romans dragged aside, with hooks, the bodies of such of the inhabitants as had been slain, or precipitated from the tops of the houses, and threw them into pits, the greater part of them being still alive and panting. In this toil, which lasted six days and as many nights, the soldiers were relieved from time to time by fresh ones, Scipio being the only person who did not appear to take rest; he was in all places, and at all hours, scarcely allowing himself time to take food enough to support nature.
There was every reason to believe that the siege would last much longer, and occasion a still greater effusion of blood. But on the seventh day there appeared a company of men in the posture and habit of supplicants, who desired no other conditions than that the Romans would please to spare the lives of all those who should be willing to leave the citadel; which request was granted, only excepting the deserters. Accordingly, there came out fifty thousand men and women, who were sent into the fields under a strong guard. The deserters, who were about nine hundred, finding they would not be allowed quarter, fortified themselves in the Temple of Æsculapius, with Asdrubal, his wife, and two children; where, though their numbers were so small, they might have held out a long time, because the temple stood on a very high hill, upon rocks, and the ascent was by sixty steps. But, at last, exhausted by hunger and watching, oppressed with fear, and seeing their destruction at hand, they lost all patience; and abandoning the lower part of the temple, they retired to the uppermost story, resolved not to quit it but with their lives.
In the mean time, Asdrubal, being desirous of saving his own life, came down privately to Scipio, bearing an olive branch in his hand, and threw himself at his feet. Scipio exhibited him immediately to the deserters, who, transported with rage and fury at the sight, vented frightful imprecations against him, and set fire to the temple. Whilst it was kindling, we are told that Asdrubal’s wife, dressing herself as splendidly as possible, and placing herself with her two children in sight of Scipio, addressed him with a loud voice: “I call not down,” said she, “curses upon thy head, O Roman! for thou only takest the privilege allowed thee by the laws of war: but may the gods of Carthage, and thou in concert with them, punish, according to his deserts, the false wretch who has betrayed his country, his gods, his wife, his children!” Then, addressing herself to Asdrubal, “Perfidious wretch!” said she, “thou basest of men! this fire will presently consume both me and my children; but as to thee, unworthy general of Carthage, go—adorn the gay triumph of thy conqueror—suffer, in the sight of all Rome, the tortures thou so justly deservest.” She had no sooner pronounced these words than she seized her children, and, cutting their throats, threw them into the flames, and afterwards rushed into them herself—in which she was imitated by the deserters.
When Scipio saw this famous city, which had been so flourishing for seven hundred years, and might have been compared to the greatest empires, on account of the extent of its dominions both by sea and land; its mighty armies; its fleets, elephants, and riches; while the Carthaginians were even superior to other nations by their courage and greatness of soul; as, notwithstanding their being deprived of arms and ships, they had sustained, for three whole years, all the hardships and calamities of a long siege; seeing, I say, the city entirely ruined, historians relate that he could not refuse his tears to the unhappy fate of Carthage. He reflected that cities, nations, and empires are liable to revolution no less than private men; that the like sad fate had befallen Troy, anciently so powerful; and, in later times, the Assyrians, Medes, and Persians, whose dominions were once of so great an extent; and very recently, the Macedonians, whose empire had been so glorious throughout the world. Full of these mournful ideas, he repeated the following verses from Homer:—
“The day shall come, that great avenging day,
Which Troy’s proud glories in the dust shall lay;
When Priam’s powers, and Priam’s self shall fall,
And one prodigious ruin swallow all.”—Pope.
Thereby denouncing the future destiny of Rome, as he himself confessed to Polybius, who desired Scipio to explain himself on that occasion.[8]
The fate of Carthage was similar to that of most empires or states that have grown inordinately wealthy, either by conquest or commerce: indulgence follows wealth, and luxury, sensuality, and vice follow indulgence. To support these requires more than that which attained them; to industry succeeds corruption—and then, good-night!
Carthage being taken, Scipio gave the plunder of it (the gold, silver, statues, and other offerings, which should be found in the temples, excepted) to his soldiers for some days. He afterwards bestowed several military rewards on them, as well as on the officers, two of whom, Tiberius Gracchus and Caius Tannius, had particularly distinguished themselves: they had been the first to scale the walls. After this, adorning a small ship, an excellent sailer, with the spoils of the enemy, he sent it to Rome with the news of the victory.