 Chapter 44 of On the Shores of the Great Sea over the seas our galleys went with cleaving prowls in order-brave to a speeding wind and a bounding wave, a gallant armament. Our Browning Hardly had Pyrrhus turned his back for the last time on Italy when the first note of war sounded between the Romans and the men of Carthage. It came from that fair island, the foot of Italy, the cyclops of the old Argonauts, Sicily. As Pyrrhus disappeared from the western world, he had cried with his last breath, half in pity, half in envy, how fair a battlefield are we leaving to the Romans and Carthaginians. The battlefield for the next hundred years was to be Sicily. Sooner or later all knew that the struggle must come, the struggle for power between these two great nations. It was not a struggle for Sicily only, it was a contest for the sea, for possession of the blue Mediterranean that washed the shores of Italy, that carried the ships of Carthage into every known port in Europe and North Africa. There's was the greatest of all islands, the island of Sardinia. There's the tiny Elba, with its wondrous supply of metals. There's Malta, the outpost. From the altar of the Phylini on the one side to the pillars of Hercules on the other stretched the country of the Carthaginians, the richest land of the ancient world. No wonder then they viewed the growing power of Rome with distrust, no wonder they prepared for the struggle which they knew must come. The Romans were not so well prepared. Up to this time all their fighting had been by land, they knew nothing of the sea. Greater soldiers, they had not the enterprise that had prompted the sailors of Tyre and of Carthage to enlarge the bounds of the world, and to guide their homemade ships into unknown seas. To the Romans as to the Egyptians the great salt ocean was an object of terror, but now the time had come when the Romans must have a navy. They had some of the old triremes such as the Greeks used, but they knew that the Carthaginians had newer and better ships at sea than these old triremes with their three banks of oars. One day, says an old story, a large ship from Carthage was washed ashore on the coast of Italy. It was a war vessel with sails and five banks of oars. The Romans set to work to copy it. Within sixty days a growing wood was cut down and built into a fleet of a hundred ships on the new model. While the hundred ships were building, it is said, a large number of Roman landsmen were trained to row on dry land, and in two months the new fleet put to sea. Never did ships sail under greater difficulties, but with admirable pluck the seasick landsmen pulled their oars heedless of the starting timbers of the new unseasoned wood of their vessels, and forth into the Mediterranean went the Romans against their new foes. But the skill in naval warfare which had taken the Carthaginians years and years to learn could not be mastered by the men of Rome in a day. They devised a new method of naval fighting by which they could board the enemy's ships and fight hand to hand. It was a clumsy idea, but they won their first sea-fight with the foe. They put up a strong mast on the front of each ship, to which they lashed a kind of drawbridge, with a sharp spike of strong iron at the end, not unlike the long bill of a raven. When the enemy ship drew near, they would let this heavy drawbridge fall with a crash onto the deck of the attacking ship. The iron beak would pierce the planking, and in a few moments the Roman sailors would be on board the Carthaginian ships, locked in a hand to hand battle. Off the coast of Sicily the Carthaginians met the clumsy Roman fleet. They bore down upon it, laughing at the strange appearance of the vessels with uncouth masts, and wondering what was hanging onto those masts. Confidently thirty ships of Carthage advanced, their decks cleared for action. What was their surprise, then, to find themselves suddenly imprisoned by the iron beaks which had excited their contempt but a short time before? Round swung the fatal raven, pinning the ships together, while the Romans were leaping onto their decks and fighting them hand to hand. After fifty of their ships of war had been destroyed in this way, the remainder refused to fight any more, and the Romans returned home, having won their first naval victory over the greatest naval power the world had yet seen. A pillar was put up in the Forum at Rome, adorned with the brazen beaks of the Carthaginian ships which the clumsy skill of the Romans had enabled them to capture. 15 years passed away and Roman Carthage were still fighting for the mastery of the sea. Since the victory of Mylay, the Roman fleet had been beaten more than once by the Carthaginians, these weather-wise masters of the sea. It was about this time that one great man called Hamelcar appeared on the sea-net Carthage, and to him the Carthaginians entrusted the command of their army. The war dragged on listlessly for another eight years, and then Hamelcar made peace with the Romans. He consented, on behalf of the Carthaginians, to give up the island of Sicily to Rome, but he had made great plans of his own by which he hoped that his own country should yet retain the command of the Mediterranean. Hamelcar had patience and genius. He loved his country with true patriotism. He hated the very name of Rome, and, moreover, he had an infant son whom he was bringing up in the same spirit. This was the boy Hannibal, who was to become one of the greatest men the world had ever seen. And all the while this Hamelcar was dreaming of an empire in Spain, an empire rich, powerful, mighty, which should more than make up to the Carthaginians for the loss of Sicily. Accompanied by the fleet, he made his way slowly along the North African coast, reached Gibraltar, and set foot for the first time in Spain. With him was his little nine-year-old son, Hannibal. There is an old story which tells us that Hamelcar was sacrificing to the God of his country before starting forth to Spain when he suddenly bade his servants withdraw, while he asked the little Hannibal if he would like to go with him to the wars. The boy eagerly said, yes. Then, said his father, lay your hand on the sacrifice and swear eternal hatred to Rome. The little boy did as he was told, and write faithfully through his whole life did he keep his oath. It was indeed into a land of promise that Hamelcar and his little son now passed. For the next nine years he worked industriously. Under him the golden silver mines of Spain yielded double their old value, which enabled him to collect a Spanish army. He worked to carry out his magnificent schemes until he died a soldier's death in battle, leaving his son-in-law, Hasdrubal, and his young son Hannibal to fulfill his dying heritage of eternal hatred of Rome. Hasdrubal enlarged the empire he had founded in Spain, giving it a capital in New Carthage. It was an excellent harbor, and soon rose to rival its namesake on the opposite coast. When Hasdrubal died some years later, Hannibal, now a man of twenty-nine, was chosen as commander of the Spanish army. He had already distinguished himself by fighting under his father, and he had not forgotten his oath of revenge. He had once began to prepare for war with Rome by taking a town that had formed an alliance with Rome. Then the Romans sent messengers to Hannibal. We bring you peace or war, they said, take which you please. War was Hannibal's fierce answer, and war it was. Hannibal retreated into winter quarters at New Carthage and dismissed his Spanish troops to their homes. Come back in the early spring, he said, and I will be your leader in a war from which both the glory and the gain will be immense. Although the rival nations prepared for battle, the die was now cast, and the arena cleared for the foremost man of his race and his time to show himself the greatest military genius that the world had ever seen. Chapter 46 of On the Shores of the Great Sea This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. On the Shores of the Great Sea by M. B. Singh, Chapter 46, The Adventures of Hannibal Attempt not to acquire that which may not be retained, Founders of Carthage Leaving Spain to the care of his younger brother, Hasderbaal, Hannibal set out from New Carthage with his Spanish troops, a number of horses, and thirty-seven elephants, set out to accomplish a feat which still fills the world with wonder and admiration. Why he did not sail across the sea from New Carthage to Italy with a fleet is not known. He preferred to scale the mountain passes which led him by land into the country he feigned would make his own. Over the high Pyrenees, mountains which divide Spain from France, the army started and marched up the valley of the Rhône. Crossing the river at a spot, nearly four days journey from the sea, they soon found themselves at the foot of the Alps. The passes of these sharply peaked mountains which soar high above the snowline have always been the gate of traffic between Italy and the rest of Europe. Today a railway runs right through one of the passes and through the region of eternal snow. Hannibal's difficulties now began. The one track over the mountains was occupied in force by mountaineers, but Hannibal found out that these people always returned to their homes at night. So when darkness fell he took his most active troops and climbed up to the place just left by the mountaineers. Next morning the rest of the army followed, winding slowly and painfully up this deep pass. The path was very narrow and many of the horses and elephants lost their footing and rolled headlong down the precipices, carrying the baggage with them. The whole army moved forward, descending into a rich valley where the natives seemed friendly enough. They now entered the narrow way leading to the main mountain wall of the Alps, the one barrier that yet separated Hannibal from the land of his hopes. Here the cliffs rose steeply above them and the torrent foamed angrily below, but they pushed bravely on till suddenly stones came thundering down from the natives on the heights and it seemed for a time as if the whole army must perish. Here at the white stone, which is still standing at the foot of the St. Bernard Pass, Hannibal stood to arms the whole night through while his army passed on upwards. On the ninth day they reached the top and a two days rest was ordered. It was a sorry spot on which to recruit. It was late in October, slowly thick on the peaks above and the troops drawn from burning Africa and sunny Spain shivered in the keen mountain air. Depression seized them. Their ranks were sadly thinned and the paths were getting more and more difficult, but the enthusiasm of their leader remained the same. In a few stirring words he bid them keep up heart. Below their feet lay Italy, the land of their desire. You are climbing not the walls of Italy only, but of Rome herself, cried Hannibal to his weary men. After one or two battles we shall have the capital of Italy in our hands. Yonder, he cried, pointing away to the far horizon, where he saw in his mind's eye the goal of all his hopes, Yonder lies Rome. The spirits of the soldiers rose and amid falling snow they began their descent. More dangers awaited them. They had to march over a steep and slippery ice slope just covered with a thin coating of freshly fallen snow. Men, horses and elephants slipped and rolled about, now sticking fast in a snow drift, now falling into a chasm, now preferring death in the snow to the struggle of going on. At last they reached a spot where the track was lost and neither man nor beast could pass. Destruction once more stared them in the face, but Hannibal's pluck did not fail him. He set the soldiers to work to make a new road over which he took the army. And so at last they descended into the plains of Italy. Hannibal had succeeded, but the sacrifice was enormous. More than half his men had perished, horses and elephants had died in that dreaded march of over five hundred miles in that month of misery. It was a wonderful feat, but still more wonderful, was the fact that he defeated the whole Roman army, not once but twice, with his way-worn men, till there seemed nothing to bar his road right on to the city of Rome. The Gauls, those wild enemies of Rome, now joined him, and he led them over the Apennines and into the valley of the Arno. The melting of the snows on the mountains had caused the Arno to overflow, converting the plain into a vast swamp. For four days and nights the army toiled through the water, unable to find a dry spot, either to sit down or sleep. The horses fell in heaps, the Gauls grumbled loudly. Hannibal himself was tortured with inflammation in his eyes. He rode bravely onwards on the one elephant that had survived, and escaped with only the loss of an eye. On the shores of a great lake, not far from Rome, he met the Roman army. There was a thick fog through which the Romans advanced, only to find as the mist rolled away that they were advancing into the jaws of death. Their whole army was cut up by Hannibal, and but few returned to carry back the sad tidings to Rome to destroy the bridges over the Tiber and prepare for the advance of Hannibal to their capital. CHAPTER 47 The End of Carthage Now sleep and silence brood o'er the city, Goldsmith. When the news of the disaster reached Rome, an anxious crowd gathered in the forum. We have been defeated in a great battle, said the chief magistrate toward sunset, mounting the orator's platform in the forum. Day after day the senators sat from sunrise to sunset, preparing now for the worst. But Hannibal did not march on Rome, and the Romans took heart again and prepared another great army to fight the Carthaginian general. Once more the two armies met, once more the Romans were defeated, and Hannibal stood victorious on the field of Cannae. To show Carthage how great had been his victory, he sent ten thousand of the gold rings taken from the fingers of the Roman nobles slain in this battle. Hannibal was now at the height of his success. From the day he had set forth over the Pyrenees, he had known no defeat. Now, under the spell of his genius, hundreds flocked to his standard. But while the successful Carthaginian was carrying all before him, a young Roman soldier was making a name for himself by carrying the war into Spain. Young Zipio managed very cleverly to take new Carthage, the great Carthaginian seaport, on the southern coast of Spain, with its mines of gold and silver, its merchant vessels, and its fine dockyards, all of which were a terrible loss to Carthage. I see the doom of Carthage, exclaimed Hannibal at last, when his brother's head was brought to him after a defeat by the Romans. Still he kept his army in Italy, waiting for the opportunity that should give him the object of his life, Rome. But the opportunity never came. Before he had gathered an army strong enough to march on Italy's capital, he was recalled to his native land to defend Carthage against Zipio. The scheme of his boyhood and manhood was spoiled, and it is said the great commander could hardly restrain his tears as the ships bore him from the land he had failed to conquer, the land in which he had spent fifteen years of his life across the sea to North Africa. It was thirty-six years since he had left Carthage with his father, thirty-six years since he had laid his small hand on the sacrifice, and sworn undying hatred to Rome. One autumn day in the year 202, the two great commanders, Hannibal and Zipio, met for the first and last time in battle. The battle of Zama was to decide for centuries to come the fate of Rome. It was to make her supreme among the nations of the old world. The battlefield lay some five days' journey to the south of Carthage, amid the sandy wastes of the North African desert land. In the forefront of Hannibal's army marched a magnificent array of eighty elephants, but they were terrified at the Blair of the Trumpets and fled in confusion right among Zipio's soldiers. He had wisely prepared for this, and the elephants were more cumbersome than helpful. After a hard fight the Romans won, and Hannibal, the hero of a hundred battles, made his way to Carthage a defeated man. With dignity and self-respect he accepted his failure, though it must have been bitter to him to bow down to the terms of peace now offered by Zipio. True, the Carthaginians were to keep their own laws in their own home, but they were to give up all their prisoners and all their elephants and all their warships save ten. They were to renounce all claim to the rich islands in the Mediterranean and to their kingdom of Spain, and for the next fifty years they must pay a large sum of money to Rome. Yet a further humiliation was in store for Hannibal and the Carthaginians. Five hundred ships, the pride and glory of the Phoenician race, ships which had sailed up and down the Mediterranean trading with this port and that, were slowly towed out of the harbor and set on fire by the victorious Romans in the site of the fallen Carthaginians. And a cry was heard unfathered of earthly lips, What of the ships, O Carthage? Carthage, what of the ships? The sight of the flames was terrible to the vanquished people, as terrible as if their very city had been burnt. And the smoldering grief of a nation burst with the kindling blaze. In the days of her prosperity, when a storm at sea destroyed some of her ships, the whole state would go into mourning and the huge walls of the city would be draped in black. What must their feelings be now when the whole fleet was blazing under their very eyes and with it their command of the sea was gone forever? So Carthage fell overcome by her dreams of conquest. She had acquired that she could not retain, she had envied that she could not possess. And what is left of her today? A few scattered piles of stones, some broken columns, and a few old tombs are the only fragments of her glorious past. Carthage herself, the home of Hannibal, the victor of nations, mother of cities, center of the world's commerce, lies crumbled in the sand and dust of two thousand years. Chapter forty-eight of On the Shores of the Great Sea. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. On the Shores of the Great Sea by M. B. Singe. Chapter forty-eight. The Triumph of Rome. Tis Greece, but living Greece no more. Byron. Rome had conquered Carthage. Where the busy Phoenicians had lived and thriven for five hundred years, Romans now pastured the herds of their distant masters. Roman merchants flocked across the seas to this new Roman province, called now for the first time in history, Africa. Fleshed with her victories here, she turned her eyes towards Greece, toward the country which Alexander the Great had made so strong, but which was now crumbling into decay under Perseus. The Romans chose one of their consuls, the brother-in-law of the dead Cypio, to march against Macedonia. The kingdom once subdued, they knew that Greece would soon fall under their sway. There is a quaint old story about this brother-in-law of the great Cypio. His name was Paulus, the Roman word for Paul. He had just been chosen general of the Roman troops, and was coming home when he met his little daughter weeping bitterly. What is the matter, he asked, drawing the child to him. Throwing her arms round his neck and kissing him, she cried, Oh, Father, do you not know that Perseus is dead? Paulus must have wished the news was true with regard to the enemy, against whom he was soon to march. But the little girl was crying over the death of a favorite dog, named Perseus, and her father could only kiss her, saying, Good fortune, my little daughter, I accept the omen. So Paulus went off to the wars, and it was not long before the news reached Rome that he had conquered the Macedonians, and was bringing back Perseus as a prisoner. He sailed up the River Tiber in the king's galley, with its sixteen banks of oars. It was richly adorned with arms captured from the Greeks, with cloths of purple and scarlet. As the vessel was rode slowly against the stream, the Romans crowded on the shore to meet him, and the Romans decreed a triumph for the conqueror, a triumph which lasted three days, the like of which had never been seen before. The people erected scaffolds in the forum and dressed themselves in white. On the first day two hundred and fifty chariots passed through the streets, with the beautiful statues, pictures, and colossal images which had been brought from Greece, the home of art and beauty. On the second day wagons carried the magnificent armor of the Macedonians, all polished and glittering. There were shields and coats of mail, targets, quivers of arrows, and naked swords all piled up in confusion. After the wagons came three thousand men carrying seven hundred and fifty vessels of silver, while others followed with silver bowls and cups, all of which impressed the Romans very much. But for the third day was reserved the greatest triumph of all. Quite early in the morning the trumpeter sounded, and a number of young Romans appeared, wearing frocks with ornamented borders and leading one hundred and twenty oxen with their horns gilded and adorned with ribbons and garlands to be sacrificed. Then came all the gold plate that had been used at the table of the king of rich Macedonia, followed by the chariot of Perseus himself, in which lay his armor and his crown. A side followed that drew tears from the eyes of the Roman crowd. The king's three little children were led captives, surrounded by a train of attendants, masters, and teachers, all stretching out their hands to the spectators and in treating pity. Perseus himself followed, clad all in black, and wearing the boots of his country. He looked like one stunned, through the greatness of his misfortunes. A number of his friends, sobbing with grief, followed. Then came Paulus himself, seated on a magnificent chariot. He was an old man and worthy to be looked at, in his purple robe interwoven with gold, holding a laurel branch in his right hand. The whole Roman army followed with boughs of laurel in their hands, singing verses and songs of triumph and praise of the deeds of Paulus. And this ended the great procession. So Greece became subject to the ever-growing power of Rome, and she has never returned to the pinnacle of glory that once made her the chief nation of the old world. End of Chapter 48 Chapter 49 of On the Shores of the Great Sea This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. On the Shores of the Great Sea by M. B. Singe Chapter 49 Two Young Romans Great men have been among us—Wordsworth Two men were now pushing their way to the forefront of affairs in Rome. Men whose names were to become famous, not only in the history of their own country, but famous in the history of the whole world. Their names were Pompey and Caesar. They were born within six years of one another, about a hundred years before the birth of Christ. And they were young men still when they became rivals for Roman power. Pompey first made his mark. As a child he was very beautiful, and he was ever beloved by the people of Rome for his gentle ways and his kingly manners. He early distinguished himself by fighting, for Rome had still enemies left in both Spain and Africa. On his return from the wars, though still a very young man, he was made consul of Rome. There is a story told of him at this time, which shows how popular he was. There was an ancient custom in Rome by which the knights, who had served their time in the wars, led their horses into the marketplace, before two officers. They gave an account of their service and received their discharge, every man with honor or disgrace according to his desserts. The knights were passing thus, before the officers, when Pompey was seen leading his horse into the forum, wearing the dress of a consul. Pompey the Great, said the senior officer, I demand of you whether you have served the full time in the laws which is ordered by the Roman law. Yes, replied Pompey in a loud voice, I have served all, and all under myself as general. On hearing this all the people gave a great shout, and they went on shouting till the officers rose from their judgment seat and accompanied the hero to his home, amid the clapping of hands and shouts of joy. When his term of office was over, he was given authority for three years over the whole Mediterranean Sea, so that he might crush out the pirates or sea robbers who were ruining the trade of that great sea. Now these sea robbers were growing very dangerous. They had built for themselves swift sailing ships, with which to pursue the merchant vessels. They had harbors, towers, and beacons all round the sea coast. Their ships had gilded masts, the sails were purple, the oars plated with silver. They were the terror of navigators from the Straits of Gibraltar to the shores of the Black Sea. They stopped and robbed the ships bringing wheat from Sicily and Alexandria to feed the Romans, and it was plain that something must be done. Pompey divided the sea into thirteen parts, and sent officers and men to fight the sea robbers in each part. Up and down the blue Mediterranean sailed these ships, chasing the pirates, till in forty days the whole sea was cleared and Pompey was free to undertake some new work for his country. The great kingdoms of the east were once more on the warpath, and Pompey was now sent to subdue them. When Pompey next returned to Rome, he was at the height of his glory. He had marched a great Roman army through Syria, he had extended the Roman Empire as far as the River Euphrates. It was small wonder then that Rome accorded him a two-days triumph, which exceeded in magnificence even the triumph of Paulus. All his great deeds were set forth on the bronze tablets which were carried before him. These told how he had founded cities, captured eight hundred ships, one thousand fortresses, and nearly as many towns. He had poured money wholesale into the treasury of Rome, while three hundred captive princes walked before his chariot. He returned triumphant, and dreams of kingship were already in his mind. He had left Rome but four years before, the very idol of the people. No, you not Pompey. Many a time and oft have you climbed up to walls and battlements, to towers and windows, yea to chimney tops, your infants in your arms, and there have sat the live long day with patient expectation to see great Pompey past the streets of Rome. And when you saw his chariot appear, have you not made an universal shout till Tyre trembled underneath her banks? But now, as he stepped from his chariot after his triumph, Pompey the Great found himself alone. No longer was he surrounded by admirers and flatterers, no longer was he the idol of Rome. For another favourite had enthroned himself in the hearts of the people. And that was Julius Caesar, a far greater man than Pompey could ever be, for this was the greatest Roman of them all. CHAPTER XV Julius Caesar Venni Vidi Vici I came, I saw, I conquered. Let us take a look at this Caesar, whose name and deeds are talked of still, though nearly two thousand years have rolled away since he lived and died in far off Rome. He was now growing up in his father's house, a tall, handsome youth, with dark, piercing eyes, a shallow face, somewhat thick lips, and a high forehead. As quite a young boy he must have seen and heard much about his country. He must have known well his uncle Marius, who was a great soldier and did much for Rome, till he was exiled in disgrace, by those he had tried to serve. Sulla, the rival of Marius, he knew well too, for had not this powerful dictator uttered the ominous words, I charge you to look after this youth with the loose girdle, for in this young Caesar there is many a Marius. Having incurred Sulla's wrath, Caesar joined the Roman army and left Italy. He distinguished himself in the field, both in Asia and in Spain, and returned to Rome to find the work of his life. He was now a marked man. He had spoken in the Senate, he had been consul, he had pleaded in favour of the appointment of Pompey to his high commands, and Pompey had married his daughter Julia. It was to him the Romans now looked, to rid them of a great danger, which threatened them in the north. Gaul and Germany were once more in a state of great unrest, and might at any time let loose their wild armies in the plains of north Italy. Caesar was forty-two, when he left Rome to take up his military command in Gaul. As a younger man, reading the life of Alexander the Great, he had burst into tears, and on being asked the reason he had answered, Do you not think I have just cause to weep, when I consider that Alexander at my age had conquered so many nations, and I have all this time done nothing that is memorable? He was yet to make himself a name as great, if not greater than his hero. To subdue these restless tribes beyond the Alps, the country we now know as Switzerland, France, and Germany, was Caesar's object in life, and to establish the power of Rome over them. New countries, undreamt of by Rome, were now discovered by the ever advancing army under Caesar. Across the great German Rhine, and over the French Seine, he passed, conquering and subduing the fierce tribes which fell back before the trained Roman legions under their great commander. Arrived at the north of France, Caesar looked across the channel from Calais and saw the white cliffs on the English coast. No one could tell him anything of that country, so one calm evening he sailed from the coast of France, and morning found him off the coast of Dover. The white cliffs were lined with painted warriors, waving lances, and ready to hurl large stones into Caesar's ship if he attempted to land. Calling his officers round him while his fleet collected, he ordered them to move along the coast with the tide. The Britons followed by the cliffs, scrambling along with their cars and horses. It was evident they meant to oppose any landing. Caesar anchored near the shore, but the water was up to the shoulders of the Roman soldiers. Then an officer sprang into the sea, waving the standard of the Roman eagle, and cried to his men to follow. With a great cheer the men sprang overboard. The Britons rode their horses into the waves and for a time stopped their progress, but the Romans managed to land and the Britons galloped away. Some sharp fighting took place on land, but the wild tribes were no match for the Romans. It was now nine years since Caesar had left Rome. Now he had made a name indeed for himself. He was returning to lay at his country's feet a province larger than Spain, new lands of which the Romans had never heard, warriors devoted to himself, and a detailed history of all his doings. His countrymen had watched his career steadily. The Senate had listened to every story of his marches in battles, his perils and victories, as they were recited one by one. Caesar has not only repulsed the Gauls, he has conquered them, cried Cicero, one of the greatest of Romans. The Alps were once the barrier between Italy and the Barbarians. The gods placed them there, for that very purpose to shelter Rome in the weakness of her infancy. Now let them sink and welcome, from the Alps to the ocean she has no enemy to fear. But there was one man in Rome who watched Caesar's growing power with dismay. It was Pompey, now consul of Rome. He dreaded the return and triumph of this great conqueror, whose name was on every lip, of whose genius none could speak too highly. The return of Caesar would mean the fall of Pompey, for Caesar had been promised the consulship. The state of Rome was very corrupted this time. Men were afraid of offending Pompey. They were yet more afraid of Caesar, with his legions in the north. Day by day matters grew worse. Was it to be peace or war? The answer was not long and coming. It was war. The flight of Pompey. Oh, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome. Knew you not Pompey? Shakespeare. Caesar now assembled his soldiers on the banks of the river Rubicon, which divided Italy from Gaul. The Romans still thought his heart might fail or his troops desert him. But neither of these things happened. True, it is said, that for a moment the great conqueror paused. Suddenly dismayed by the greatness of his undertaking, he asked himself, was he right to bring so much trouble on his countrymen? The destinies of the Roman nation hung on his decision. Then as if acting on some sudden impulse he cried, the die is cast. So saying he urged his charger through the stream. The Rubicon was crossed. He was on his way to Rome. There could be no turning back now. The news reached Rome. Caesar's charger had been seen on the Apennine Hills. He was coming at last. Pompey did not hesitate. In flight lay his only safety. Up rose consuls and senators, and leaving their wives and children to their fate they fled for their lives, with Pompey out of Rome. They played the part of cowards, and in the old Roman days men would not have deserted their city like this. It is all panic and blunder, cried Cicero. The flight of the Senate, the departure of the magistrates, the closing of the treasury, will not stop Caesar. I am brokenhearted. Pompey could not raise an army by land, but the sea was his. His was the east with all its treasures. His the fleets of the Mediterranean. Caesar might win for the moment, but Pompey had the naval power to bring against Italy. So Caesar entered Roman peace. He soon left it again for Spain, where he went to prepare an army and a fleet to fight against Pompey. I go, he said to the Romans, I go to engage an army without a general. I shall return to attack a general without an army. The Romans at once made him dictator, and he set out for his chase after Pompey. Pompey was in Greece preparing for his great invasion of Italy. It was early in January, just a year since he had crossed the Rubicon, that Caesar sailed from Brindisi for Greece. Pompey's admiral from the heights of Corfu saw his ship. He had let Caesar pass, but he would not let his soldiers and ships pass in the same way. So Caesar waited on one side of the Adriatic and his ships and troops on the other. The months passed on, and Caesar watched in vain for the sails of his ships. There is an old story that says he at last made up his mind to row over to Brindisi and see what had happened. He hired a boat of twelve wars, disguised himself as a slave, crept on board in the night time and lay down at the bottom of the boat. It was very rough, and the waves were dashing very high on the Greek coast, so high indeed as to render the crossing very dangerous. The master of the boat ordered the rowers to turn back. Then the disguised slave arose. Go forward, my friend, shouted the great Caesar, above the roar of wave and wind. Fear nothing! You carry Caesar and his fortunes. The rivals for Roman power met at last in Greece, and Pompey was defeated once and forever by Caesar. Pompey's fall was complete. He escaped secretly on foot to the coast, and, getting on board a merchant vessel, sailed to Medellin, where his wife and son were waiting. His wife received the news with tears, and, sinking into Pompey's arms, she cried, Ah! that I should see you reduced to one poor vessel who were want to sail in these seas with a fleet of five hundred ships. Putting his wife and son on board, Pompey now sailed down the coast of Asia Minor, then across to Cyprus, and on to Egypt. Egypt was under Roman influence, though not exactly a Roman province, and here the fugitive might gain protection. The country was under a boy king, called Ptolemy, and his sister Cleopatra. Pompey anchored at sea and sent to the young king for permission to land. He was invited to come ashore, and, saying goodbye to his wife, he stepped into the boat sent for him. As he stepped ashore, he was treacherously murdered, his head cut off, and his body thrown back into the sea. A devoted slave, whom Pompey had set free, watched for the body to be washed on shore. Then he wrapped it in his shirt and buried it in the sand, and so the last rites were performed for one who, but a short time since, was second to none in Rome. Meanwhile Caesar had been following his fallen foe. Hearing that he had sailed for Egypt, he took ship and landed at Alexandria, to be received by the news of Pompey's death. Hoping to please him, the head of his rival was brought to him. From it he turned in horror and burst into tears, for Pompey had once been his friend. End of Chapter 51 Chapter 52 of On the Shores of the Great Sea This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. On the Shores of the Great Sea by M. B. Cinge. Chapter 52 The Death of Caesar The last of all the Romans, fare thee well. Shakespeare. After a three month stay in Egypt, during which time he made friends with Cleopatra, Caesar returned to Rome. He had been made dictator for a second time, and was to hold the post for ten years. A thanksgiving of forty days was decreed, temples and statues were raised in his honor. A golden chair was placed in the Senate for him to sit in. He was called the father of his country, a name that Cicero had already borne, and four triumphs were celebrated in his honor. In return Caesar feasted the Roman people at twenty-two thousand tables, and entertained them at combats of wild animals and gladiators, beneath awnings of the richest silks. For Pompey had built a splendid theater in Rome, in which lions and elephants, and men known as gladiators, who fought with swords for the amusement of the people, engaged in combat before crowds of delighted spectators, for the Romans thought the shedding of blood was pleasing to their gods. But Caesar did more than this. He made new Roman laws. He tried to bridge over the terrible inequality between the very rich and the very poor. He added hugely to the number of Senators. He arranged the foreign provinces, and he rearranged the calendar. This was a very important piece of work. Up to this time the year had been made to consist of three hundred and fifty-five days, but as that did not exactly fit in with the revolution of the earth around the sun, an extra month had to be added at intervals. This made great confusion, and festivals for the harvest and vintage came three months before there was any corner grapes. The Julian calendar, as it was called, made the year to consist of three hundred and sixty-five days and six hours, which arrangement lasted for one thousand six hundred years after the death of Caesar. So Caesar became undisputed master of this mighty empire of Rome. He had shown himself to be not only one of the greatest conquerors the world had ever seen, but one of the greatest statesmen. He governed Rome as a king in all but name. It was reported in the city that he wished to be called king. Did he not dress in royal purple robes? Had he not given himself all the heirs of kingship? One morning some one placed a crown of laurels upon the head of his statue, which stood in the forum. It was done publicly, in the midst of a vast crowd, in Caesar's presence. The wreath was torn down. A few days later, as he was riding through the streets of Rome, he was saluted by the mob as king. A stifled murmur of disapproval ran through the crowd. I am no king but Caesar, cried the Roman dictator hastily. Yet again the prize of kingship seemed within reach. Caesar was in his golden chair, dressed in purple, and wearing a wreath of bae, wrought in gold, presented by the senators. He was presiding over a popular festival, when suddenly the chief performer approached Caesar, and drawing a small crown from his girdle he placed it on Caesar's head, saying, The people give you this by my hand. As Caesar took off the crown, a loud burst of applause broke from the people. I am not king, he said in a loud voice. The only king of the Romans is Jupiter, saying which he ordered the crown to be carried to the temple of Jupiter in the capital. The question of kingship was over, but there was a spirit of unrest and distrust abroad in Rome. Men hated this supreme power. They thought Caesar was a tyrant, and they wished to see Rome free. Caesar knew there was danger, but he went daily to the senate, unarmed and without a guard. It is better to suffer death once than always to live in fear of it, he had replied loftily to those who urged care. Cicero, the foremost order of his day, did not agree with such rashness on the part of one whose life was yet so precious to Rome. Be you watchful, he urged in a brilliant speech in the senate, where Caesar was sitting but a few weeks before his murder. All our lives are bound up in yours. With sorrow I have heard you say that you have lived long enough. For your country you have not. Put away I beseech you this contempt of death. Be not wise at our expense. Your work is unfinished. It remains for you to rebuild the constitution. Live till this is done. Live till you see your country at peace. Your life shall continue fresh in the memory of ages to come. Men will read with wonder of empires and provinces, of the Rhine, the ocean and the Nile, of battles without number, of amazing victories, of countless monuments and triumphs. But unless this state be wisely established your name will not live. Therefore we beseech you to watch over your own safety. But Caesar he did not, and a secret plot to kill him went forward. An important meeting of the senate had been called for the fifteenth of March. This day was known in ancient Rome as the Ides, i.e. the middle day of the month. This was the day fixed for the murder of Caesar. He had been warned by a soothsayer that this should happen, and it was said he was restless and nervous when the morning came. Unarmed, however, he shook off his uneasiness. He crossed the hall of his palace on the way to the senate house. As he did so his own statue fell in broken pieces on the stones. Outside the senate house he met the soothsayer who had warned him. The Ides of March are come, said Caesar, laughing. Yes, answered the soothsayer in a low voice, but they are not gone. Caesar entered the senate house of Rome for the last time. The senators rose to do him honour as he took his seat in the golden chair. Men gathered round him. He knew them all. There was not one who did not owe him gratitude. He had no suspicions. Suddenly someone stabbed him in the throat. He started from his chair with a cry. He was surrounded by swords and gleaming steel. For a moment he tried to defend himself. Then, seeing Brutus, his friend, with raised sword, he drew his cloak over his face. And thou, too, Brutus? He uttered the words with his last breath as he fell dead at the foot of Pompey's statue beside his golden chair. The senate rose in confusion and rushed out to proclaim to the Romans that the tyrant was dead and Rome was free, while the body of the great Caesar lay alone in the senate house, where but a few weeks ago Cicero had told him that every senator would die before harm should reach him. We have killed the king, cried Cicero in bitterness of heart, but the kingdom is with us still. We have taken away the tyrant, but the tyranny still lives. The great Roman republic was ended. It had narrowly escaped being a kingdom. It was now to be an empire under an emperor. An empire so vast and so important that the history of the world, henceforth, became the history of Rome. CHAPTER 53. The Empire of Rome. Comes the last age, of which the Sibyl sang. A newborn cycle of the rolling years, justice returns to earth. Virgil. It was indeed a dangerous Rome, to which young Caesar now came to claim his birthright. But he soon showed his countrymen that he was a worthy successor of his great uncle. Stories were told of him as an infant that showed he was marked out for greatness, according to the early ideas of the Romans. When he was a small baby he was laid in his cradle by his nurse. The next day he was missing and nowhere to be found. They saw it for him long and found him on a high tower, commanding a view of the sea, lying with his face to the rising sun. When he first began to speak, a story says that he commanded some troublesome croaking frogs to be silent, and the frogs have never croaked there since that day. It was not long before the Romans made Caesar's young heir consul, while Mark Antony, who had grasped at power, on the death of the man he had called his friend, was declared to be an enemy of the State. The murderers of Julius Caesar had, in their turn, been murdered, amongst them the aged Cicero, but Rome was still unsettled, Rome was still dangerous. At last Mark Antony fled to raise an army against the young Caesar. He had schemes of conquering the East and making Alexandria the capital of the world, but instead of this he became captivated by the beautiful Queen of Egypt, for whom Julius Caesar had fought before. He had met her in Rome when she had stayed with Caesar. Now he met her again at Tarsus, and at once fell captive to her charms and her wit. Cleopatra sailed up the river in a gilded vessel, with purple sails and silver ores, to the music of flutes and reed pipes. She lay under an awning spangled with gold, surrounded by her beautiful slaves. Mark Antony soon loved her. He spent all his time with her. He laid aside his Roman dress and his Roman manners to adopt those of Egypt. Ugly rumors about him reached Rome, and Caesar determined to put an end to this growing power beyond the seas. He mustered a fleet and army and met the fleet of Antony and Cleopatra off the southern coast of Greece. For some days a rough sea prevented any battle, but when the battle began it was very unequal. The huge bulks of the eastern ships were ill adapted for advance or retreat. They were no match for the skillfully managed triremes of the Romans, and while they rolled heavily on the waters, up went the sail of Cleopatra's galley, and followed by sixty Egyptian ships and the despairing Antony, she fled across the sea to Alexandria. Thither Caesar followed, by way of Asia and Syria. All the princes of Asia bowed down to him, and Herod, king of Judea, made friends with the conqueror. He arrived at Alexandria to hear the news that Antony had killed himself, and that the queen Cleopatra had shut herself up in a strong tower. Once and only once Caesar saw her, she tried to excite his pity but failed. She discovered that he intended to have her taken to Rome to take part in his triumph. The humiliation was more than she could bear. The next day she was found lying on her couch in her royal robes, dead. Her two maids were dying on either side. Is this well? asked the man who found her. It is well for the daughter of kings answered the dying maid. And so Egypt became a Roman province. Caesar went back to Rome triumphant. The death of Antony put an end to the fierce struggles that had torn Rome for the ten years following the death of Julius Caesar. It seemed as if the great empire of Rome might have rest for a time now under the man who had already done so much. He now occupied not only the highest place in the city and the highest place in the state, but he was chief of the army. The man who rules an empire and commands the army of that empire is called an emperor, so Caesar was now an emperor. He also took the name of Augustus, a word applied to things most noble, most dignified, most high. From this time, therefore, we must call him Caesar Augustus. Well and wisely did Augustus rule the Roman people. He lived simply amongst them, he dressed as a plain citizen, he joined in the life of the people. His house was unadorned, his meals were taken in haste and were not luxurious. To his court and to his person he drew the greatest poets and writers of his age. In his reign, Virgil, tall, dark, and shy, might have been seen walking about the streets of Rome, while Horus, who had fought for his country in days gone by, was poet laureate to the emperor. Lesser singers lived too in these days of prosperity, ever praising the man who had restored law in order to Rome, the man who had won peace for their great empire, even Caesar Augustus, the first emperor of the Roman empire. CHAPTER 54 PAX ROMANA And it came to pass in those days that there went out to decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed, and all went to be taxed, every one to his own city. Luke 2 So there was peace from end to end of the great Roman empire under Caesar Augustus. From the great Atlantic Ocean, that washes the western coasts of France and Spain, to the river Euphrates, crossed by Abraham nearly two thousand years before, there was peace. From the German Rhine, to the burning African deserts, there was peace too. Greece, Asia Minor, Egypt, all were quietly resting under the mighty sway of Rome, under the wise rule of the emperor Caesar Augustus. It was time to make a regular division of this great empire, to divide it into provinces, to prepare for a census or numbering of the people. In order to carry out this plan, each family had to go to their own home, however far away that home might be. Herod had made known this command from Rome, and the whole country of Judea was a stir. Living away in distant Nazareth, some eighty miles from his native town, was one Joseph. He too must journey across the country to obey the command of Caesar Augustus. Taking his wife Mary, he started off on the eighty-mile journey. The story is familiar to every child. When Joseph and Mary reached Bethlehem, after a long and weary climb to the hill-city, the town was full of strangers, and there was no room for them in the inn, so they had to be satisfied with sleeping in a manger. And in this manger at Bethlehem, Jesus Christ was born. The event made no stir in the great world beyond quiet Judea. Caesar Augustus continued to reign over the Roman Empire. Ships sailed to and fro over the blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Men bought and sold as usual, and the news of Mary's little son was not known outside the country of the east. But though as yet unknown to the world at large, the event was one which was destined to throw over the history of the great world the widest, deepest, mightiest influence that has ever been known. The birth of Christ passed by unnoticed. His death thirty years later was of worldwide interest. The love of him has lasted true throughout two thousand years, and today men are ready to live, ready to die for that love.