Two splendid youths, Tartessus and Hesperus, presented themselves together amid the applause of the spectators. They came from Gades, that famous colony of the Phoenicians. Next to come forward was Baeticus, whose cheeks were sprinkled over with the first down of manhood; Corduba had named the lad thus after her river, and the city backed her favourite’s successes at no small cost. Next, Eurytus made all the ring resound with shouting; red was his hair but his body white as snow; Saetabis had given him birth and reared him on her lofty hill, and his parents were present, in a flutter of love and anxiety. After him came Lamus and Sicoris, sons of warlike Ilerda; and lastly Theron, who drank of the river called Lethe, which, as it flows along, grazes its bank with the waters of forgetfulness.
There they stood on tiptoe, bending forwards, with hearts beating high in the passion for renown; and, when the trumpet gave the signal to start, they sprang forward through the air swifter than arrows launched from the string. The spectators shouted, each zealous for his own favourite; hanging on tiptoe, with hoarse cries they called by name to the runner of their choice. The band of noble youths swept over the plain, leaving no print of their feet on the sand as they passed. All alike were young and fair of face; all were fleet of foot, and all deserved to win.
When half the distance was reached, Eurytus shot to the front, and kept ahead of the rest, not by much, but still ahead. Hard behind him came bold Hesperus, no slower than the other, and planted his foremost foot in the heel-marks of the leader. Eurytus was content to be in front; for Hesperus the hope that he might yet get in front was sufficient. Therefore they increase their activity, and their bodies are driven forward by their spirit; even their exertions add to their youthful comeliness. But see, Theron, who was last of the seven and running with little effort, now felt that he had gathered sufficient strength: rising to his full height, he took all by surprise, putting forth in a sudden burst all the power he had been husbanding, and leaving the winds behind him. It might have been Mercury himself, flying through the sky with his winged sandals fastened to his feet. The onlookers marvelled, as he passed one and then another, till he who had just before been last became the third in the order of the runners and pressed fiercely upon the track of Hesperus. And not only the lad in front of him but Eurytus himself, first favourite for the prize, was dismayed by such a display of swiftness. Fourth in order came Tartessus; but all his efforts were vain, if the three others kept their respective distances; he followed his brother, but Theron came between them. Theron’s patience was at an end: with one fiery burst he flew over the course and passed Hesperus, who was filled with rage. One rival yet remained; and the sight of the goal close at hand goaded on their weary limbs; while hope was still possible, each summoned up his remaining strength for one short struggle — Theron exhausted by his effort, and Eurytus by the fear that crept into his heart. They came abreast and rushed on side by side. And perhaps they would have reached the goal together and shared the first prize; but Hesperus, coming behind Theron, in his fierce anger grasped the hair that spread loosely over Theron’s snow-white neck, and tugged at it. When his rival was hampered thus, Eurytus passed on in joy and triumph and flew to receive the prize of victory. He carried off the glittering helmet, a splendid gift. The other youths gained the promised reward: a green garland crowned the unshorn locks of each, and each brandished a pair of javelins made of Spanish steel.
When the boys’ race was over, men engaged in more serious strife: swords were unsheathed at close quarters, and a mimicry of fierce warfare was waged. The swordsmen thus matched in arms were not men whom guilt and a life of crime had brought to this: valour urged them on and their eager desire of glory. It was a sight befitting the soldier sons of Mars, and an imitation of their accustomed task. Among these a pair of twin brothers met in unnatural warfare for a throne — what crime have kings, wading through slaughter to a throne, left yet uncommitted? — while the vast ring of spectators cursed such madness. But such was the horrid custom of their nation; and the brothers hazarded their lives in competition for the crown of their dead father. They met with such fury as befits men maddened by the passion for a throne; and, falling dead together, they carried to the shades hearts glutted with abundant bloodshed. The swords, driven home with equal effort by both, pierced the vital parts, and the mortal wounds were follow ed by last words, till their ghastly spirits fled into the reluctant air, still uttering curses. Even in death their enmity persisted; for, when a common pyre was consuming their bodies together, the flame refused to unite and parted asunder; and their ashes refused to rest together. The other swordsmen received different gifts, according to their valour and skill. Some carried off oxen trained to plough the soil, and others took from among the Moorish captives hunters accustomed to track wild beasts in their lairs. Gifts of silver also were awarded, and splendid garments from the spoil, and war-horses, and plumes rising on glittering helmets — the spoils taken from conquered Libyans.
And now, to end the games, men sought to win glory by casting the javelin. Five competitors strove to hit the mark — Burnus of noble ancestry, who came from the banks where the Tagus runs thick and yellow with golden sands; and Glagus, whose famous arm could outstrip the winds; and Aconteus the hunter, whose lance the deer, at their utmost speed, could never escape; and Indibilis, who long had loved to fight against Rome but was now her ally; and Ilerdes, whose bolt often shot down the birds that flew among the clouds, and who was also brave in battle. Burnus lodged his weapon in the mark and won the first prize — a handmaid who had skill to dye white wool with the purple of Gaetulia. Then Ilerdes, whose spear came close to the mark, gained the second prize; he went off well-pleased with a lad, to whom it was mere child’s play to run down and slay every deer of the forest. Aconteus who came third had for his prize a pair of hounds that feared not to drive a wild boar before them with loud barking.
When these awards were approved by shouts of applause, then Scipio’s brother and Laelius, clad in glittering purple, gladly pronounced the great names of the dead and summoned their ghosts, and launched their spears as they spoke, rejoicing to honour the sacred ashes and thus to give additional glory to the games. Scipio also, whose face revealed the happiness of his heart, first rewarded his faithful friends with gifts equal to their deserts — his brother received a corslet plated thick with gold, and Laelius a pair of swift Asturian horses for harness — and then rose up and hurled his victorious spear with mighty strength, declaring that this was a tribute to the dead. Marvellous to tell, the flying spear stopped in midcourse and rooted itself in the ground, plain for all to see; then leafage appeared in a moment and tall branches; and an oak-tree at the instant of its birth threw a spreading shade. The prophets, foretelling the future, bade Scipio hope for greater things to come; for the gods, said they, indicated this result and made it manifest by the miracle.
When this prediction was uttered, Scipio, after driving the last Carthaginian from the Western coast and avenging his country and his kinsmen, went back to Italy, and Fame made his march a triumphal procession. And the country had no more ardent desire than to entrust the highest office to the young general, with Libya for his province. But the older men, whose cooler heads were averse to a hazardous war, frowned on rash undertakings, and their cautious fear shrank from serious disasters.
Therefore, when the consul, in the dignity of the great office conferred upon him, opened the debate in the Senate, and asked that the task of destroying Carthage might be his, old Fabius opened his aged lips and lifted up his voice, to speak thus: “I have had so much of life and glory — more than enough of both — that I need not fear lest Scipio should suspect me of opposing his great enterprise from motives of jealousy. The voice of Fame is busy enough with my name, and a life so spent needs no fresh praise. But while I live I cannot without guilt fail my country or stain my conscience by silence. Do you intend, Scipio, to carry a fresh campaign to Libya? Is Italy free from the enemy, and is it not enough for us to defeat Hannibal? What
higher prize than that is offered by the Libyan shore? If glory is our motive, here is the field for you to reap. Nearer home, Fortune has pitted against you a foeman worthy of your steel. The soil of Italy would fain, would fain at last drink the blood of that merciless commander. Whither would you carry off your army and your standards? The first thing is to put out the conflagration of Italy. You run away and leave an exhausted foe behind you, and treacherously strip the Seven Hills of their defenders. While you are laying waste the barren sands of the Syrtis, will not that monster assault the walls of Rome which he knows already, and attack the seat of Jupiter when it has neither men nor weapons to defend it? What a price would he not pay, to secure your departure from the city! And shall we, when we are stricken by such a thunderbolt of war, recall you from the shore of Africa, even as Fulvius was lately summoned from the towers of Capua? Conquer at home and cleanse Italy from war — Italy that has been mourning her dead for thrice five years! That done, then take your way to the distant Garamantes, and earn triumphs over Nasamonians. Such enterprises are barred at present by the sore straits of our country. Your famous father, whose activities brought fresh glory to your house, was on his way as consul to the banks of the Hiberus; but, when Hannibal had crossed the Alps and was coming down to devour us, your father recalled his army and was the first to throw himself boldly in Hannibal’s path.
Do you, a consul, intend to leave behind a victorious foe and by this device, forsooth! to tear the Carthaginian from our throats? If he remains coolly where he is, refusing to follow you and your army to Africa, you will curse your short-sighted strategy when Rome is taken. But suppose that he does take fright and march his army away, and is willing to follow the sails of your fleet; even then he will surely be the same Hannibal, whose camp you saw from the walls of Rome.” Thus Fabius spoke, and the older senators expressed loud approval of his speech.
Then Scipio answered him: “In the hour when two noble generals fell together and the whole of Spain was occupied by Carthage and had come under her yoke, neither Fabius nor any one of those who share his opinions came to the rescue then. I faced that war-cloud, young as I was — I admit it — and I alone exposed my life when heaven was falling, and drew all the danger upon myself. Then the old men declared that it was a mistake to trust a mere boy as general; and the same prophet of evil who warns you to-day spoke then of foolhardiness. I praise and thank the gods whose power protects the race of Troy. That ‘boy,’ too young for service in the field and unripe for arms, that Scipio, recovered Spain for Rome and never suffered defeat; he routed the Carthaginians and followed the sun’s course to its setting beside Atlas, and expelled the name of Libya from the western world; nor did he withdraw his army from the land, until he saw the Sun-god unharnessing his reeking coursers by the Ocean upon Roman territory. Kings also he gained over as allies. Now Carthage alone remains, and the conquest of Carthage will crown my career; I know this from Jupiter, the Father of eternal life. But see! the old men tremble at the thought of Hannibal: unless their fear is a mere pretence, that the glory of ending at last our long train of disasters may not fall to me. Without doubt my arm has now proved itself in war, and the strength of my youth has grown. But do not contrive delays; suffer the destiny which heaven has reserved for me to run its free course, that the shame of our former defeats may be wiped out. For wary Fabius it was glory enough to avoid defeat, and the Delayer gained all things for us by inaction. But neither Mago nor Hanno, neither Gisgo’s son nor Hamilcar’s, would have fled before me, if I had remained idle in the protection of my camp and refused battle. If that Carthaginian boy, scarce entered upon manhood, could attack the Roman people, the walls of Rome, and the sacred stream of yellow Tiber — if he could feed on Latium during years of warfare, shall we shrink from sending an army across the sea to Africa, to flutter the dovecotes of Carthage? Their wide shores dread no danger; their land is undisturbed, and enriched by peace. Let Carthage, feared so long, at last feel fear in her turn; and let her learn that, though Italy is not yet delivered from Hannibal, we still have weapons to spare. Your cautious policy has suffered him to grow old in Italy; for thrice five years he has gone on shedding our blood in rivers; but I will bring him back in fear and trembling, when it is too late, to see the capital of his country consumed with fire. If Rome sees upon her walls the shameful traces of Hannibal’s handiwork, shall Carthage meanwhile, free from fear and danger, hear the report of our sufferings and make war with open gates? By all means let our insolent foe assault our towers again with Punic battering-rams, if he does not, before that time, hear the temples of his own gods crackling in flames kindled by Romans.”
By this speech the Senate was carried away. They followed the call of destiny and assented to Scipio’s proposals. Praying that the result might be fortunate for Italy, they allowed him to take his army across the sea.
BOOK XVII
ARGUMENT
THE IMAGE OF CYBELE IS BROUGHT FROM PHRYGIA TO ROME AND RECEIVED AT OSTIA BY P. SCIPIO NASICA: THE CHASTITY OF CLAUDIA IS VINDICATED (1-45). SCIPIO CROSSES TO AFRICA (46-58). HE WARNS SYPHAX NOT TO BREAK FAITH WITH ROME: THE CAMP OF SYPHAX IS BURNT, AND HE IS TAKEN PRISONER (59-145). HASDRUBAL RETREATS TO CARTHAGE: HANNIBAL IS RECALLED FROM ITALY P.46-157). HANNIBAL’S DREAM BEFORE THE ARRIVAL OF THE SUMMONS (158-169). HE LEAVES ITALY IN OBEDIENCE TO THE SUMMONS (170-217). HE DECIDES TO GO BACK TO ITALY BUT IS PREVENTED BY A FEARFUL STORM (218-291). AFTER LANDING IN AFRICA HE ENCOURAGES HIS SOLDIERS (292-837). JUPITER AND JUNO CONVERSE ABOUT THE FATE OF HANNIBAL (338-384). THE BATTLE OF ZAMA (385-4317). SCIPIO RETURNS IN TRIUMPH TO ROME (618-654).
IN ancient times the Sibyl had foretold that, in order to dislodge an invader from Italian soil, the Romans must invite the Mother of the Gods to leave her seat in Phrygia, and must set up her worship within the walls of their city; and the goddess must be received at her landing by that citizen whom the whole body of the Senate chose out as the most virtuous of men then living. That was a title more glorious and higher than any triumph. So Cybele was invited, and now she was nearing land, on board a Roman vessel, when Scipio, given precedence by all the noble senators, made haste to meet the foreign deity. His father was uncle of the Scipio just chosen to conduct the war in Africa; and his lineage was long and illustrious. When he had welcomed the goddess after her long voyage with hands held up in prayer and, standing high, had brought the vessel to the loud-sounding mouth of Tuscan Tiber, the hands of women were next employed, to draw the tall ship up the stream with ropes. The cymbals made a noise all round with their hollow tinklings, and the hoarse note of the drums vied with the cymbals. And her troop of unsexed votaries were there — those who haunt the twin peaks of chaste Mount Dindyma, and who hold revel in the cave of Dicte, and those who know the heights of Ida and its silent sacred groves. Amid their wild cries and the prayers of the rejoicing multitude, the sacred ship refused to answer the pull of the ropes: she stopped suddenly and remained motionless on the river-bed. Then a priest cried aloud from the centre of the ship: “Touch not the ropes with guilty hands! Away, away! far from hence, all ye unchaste, I warn you, and take no share in the sacred task; or the goddess may not be content with a mere warning. But if any woman is strong in her chastity, if any who stands here is conscious of a body unstained, let her, even single-handed, undertake the pious duty.”
Then Claudia spoke out. She derived her name from the ancient stock of the Clausi, but false report among the people had darkened her fame. Turning her eyes and open hands to the vessel, she spoke thus:”O Mother of the gods, divine parent of all whom we worship, whose children cast lots for kingdoms and rule the earth and sea, the stars and the nether world, if I am free from all stain of unchastity, come thou and bear me witness, and prove my innocence by the ease with which the vessel moves.” Then, full of confidence, she grasped a rope; and suddenly it seemed that the roaring of lions was heard, and Cybele’s drums, though no hand beat them, sounded louder in all ears. The ship moved forward as if driven by the wind and outstripped
Claudia as she drew it along against the stream. At once all hearts were cheered by stronger hopes that an end of war and an end of disaster was coming at last.
Scipio himself made haste to depart from Sicily and hid the sea far and wide with his advancing ships. He had appeased the god of the sea by the sacrifice of a bull, and its inward parts were cast upon the blue water, to float there. Then, coming from the home of the gods and flying through the clear sky, the birds that bear the bolts of Jupiter came into view, pointing out a path over the sea for the fleet to follow. The sound of their cries was an omen of success. The eagles flew in front through the clear heaven, keeping such a distance that the watcher’s eye could still perceive them, and the ships followed till they reached the coast of treacherous Carthage.
Nor did Africa stand idle, on the approach of so fierce a storm. To meet the dreaded army and their famous general, she had acquired the resources of a king and the Massylian warriors; and Syphax was at the same time the one hope of Carthage and the one menace to the Romans. The Numidians, riding bare-backed according to their custom, had filled the plains and broad valleys and sea-shore alike, and their javelins hurtled in thick clouds through the air and concealed the sky. For Syphax, forgetting his pledged word, the alliance to which he had sworn, and the ties of hospitality cemented by meals in common, had broken faith and divine law; an ill-judged passion had changed his mind, and he had bought his bride at the price of his throne. The maiden was beautiful; and her father Hasdrubal was famous. As soon as Syphax received her in the lofty marriage-chamber, as if the flame of the marriage-torch had set him on fire for the first time, he made over his resources to his Punic father-in-law and broke his treaty of friendship with Rome by presenting his forces as a bridal gift to Carthage.
Complete Works of Silius Italicus Page 37