The Carthaginian occupation of Spain had not extended much beyond
the coast, and had been rather in the nature of a commercial alliance
with a few cities. Now Hamilcar determined, by placating, and by
bribes, and if necessary by force, to take possession of the Peninsula
for his own purposes, and to make of the people a Punic nation under
the complete dominion of Carthage. So his first task was to win, or to
subdue, the Keltiberians. He built the city of New Carthage (now
Carthagena), he showed the people how to develop their immense
resources, and by promises of increased prosperity won the confidence
and sympathy of the nation, and soon had a population of millions from
which to recruit its army.
When his son Hannibal was nine years old, at his father's bidding he
placed his hand upon the altar and swore eternal enmity to Rome. The
fidelity of the boy to his oath made a great deal of history. He took
up the task when his father laid it down, inaugurated the second Punic
war (218-201 B.C.); and for forty years carried on one of the most
desperate struggles the world has ever seen; the hoary East in struggle
with the young West.
Saguntum was that ancient city in Valencia which was said to have
been founded by the Greeks long before Homer sang of Troy, or, indeed,
before Helen brought ruin upon that city. At all events its antiquity
was greater even than that of the Phenician cities in Spain, and after
being long forgotten by the Greeks it had drifted under Roman
protection. It was the only spot in Spain which acknowledged allegiance
to Rome; and for that reason was marked for destruction as an act of
defiance.
The Saguntines sent an embassy to Rome. These men made a pitiful and
passionate appeal in the Senate Chamber: “Romans, allies, friends!
help! help! Hannibal is at the gates of our city. Hannibal, the sworn
enemy of Rome. Hannibal the terrible. Hannibal who fears not the gods,
neither keeps faith with men. ["Punic faith” was a byword.] O Romans,
fathers, friends! help while there is yet time.”
But they found they had a “protector” who did not protect. The
senators sent an embassy to treat with Hannibal, but no soldiers. So,
with desperate courage, the Saguntines defended their beleaguered city
for weeks, hurling javelins, thrusting their lances, and beating down
the besiegers from the walls. They had no repeating rifles nor dynamite
guns, but they had the terrible falaric, a shaft of fir with an
iron head a yard long, at the point of which was a mass of burning tow,
which had been dipped in pitch. When a breach was made in the walls,
the inflowing army would be met by a rain of this deadly falaric, which
was hurled with telling power and precision. Then, in the short
interval of rest this gave them, men, women, and children swiftly
repaired the broken walls before the next assault.
But at last the resourceful Hannibal abandoned his battering rams,
and with pickaxes undermined the wall, which fell with a crash. When
asked to surrender, the chief men of the city kindled a great fire in
the market-place, into which they then threw all the silver and gold in
the treasury, their own gold and silver and garments and furniture, and
then cast themselves headlong into the flames. This was their answer.
Saguntum, which for more than a thousand years had looked from its
elevation out upon the sea, was no more, and its destruction was one of
the thrilling tragedies of ancient history. On its site there exists
to-day a town called Mur Viedro (old walls), and these old walls
are the last vestige of ancient Saguntum.
In order to understand the indifference of Rome to the Spanish
Peninsula at this time, it must be remembered that Spain was then the
uttermost verge of the known world, beyond which was only a dread waste
of waters and of mystery. To the people of Tyre and of Greece, the twin
“Pillars of Hercules” had marked the limit beyond which there was
nothing; and those two columns, Gibraltar and Ceuta, with the legend
ne plus ultra entwined about them, still survive, as a symbol, in
the arms of Spain and upon the Spanish coins; and what is still more
interesting to Americans, in the familiar mark ($) which represents a
dollar. (The English name for the Spanish peso is
pillar-dollar.)
Now Rome was aroused from its apathy. It sent an army into Spain,
led by Scipio the Elder, known as Scipio Africanus. When he fell, his
son, only twenty-four years old, stood up in the Roman Forum and
offered to fill the undesired post; and, in 210 B.C., Scipio “the
Younger”—and the greater—took the command—as Livy eloquently
says—“between the tombs of his father and his uncle", who had both
perished in Spain within a month.
The chief feature of Scipio's policy was, while he was defeating
Hannibal in battles, to be undermining him with his native allies; and
to make that people realize to what hard taskmasters they had bound
themselves; and by his own manliness and courtesy and justice to win
them to his side.
He marched his army swiftly and unexpectedly upon New Carthage, the
capital and center of the whole Carthaginian movement, sent his fleet
to blockade the city, and planned his moves with such precision that
the fleet for the blockade and the army for the siege arrived before
the city on the same day.
Taken entirely by surprise. New Carthage was captured without a
siege. Not one of the inhabitants was spared, and spoil of fabulous
amounts fell to the victors.
It seems like a fairy tale—or like the story of Mexico and Peru
1800 years later—to read of 276 golden bowls which were brought to
Scipio's tent, countless vessels of silver, and 18 tons of coined and
wrought silver.
But the richest part of the prize was the 750 Spanish hostages—high
in rank of course—whom the various tribes had given in pledge of their
fidelity to Carthage. Now Scipio held these pledges, and they were a
menace and a promise. They were Roman slaves, but he could by kindness,
and by holding out the hope of emancipation, placate and further bind
to him the native people.
By an exercise of tact and clemency Scipio gained such an ascendancy
over the inhabitants, and so moved were they by this unexpected
generosity and kindness, that many would gladly have made him their
king.
But he seems to have been the “noblest Roman of them all,” and when
saluted as king on one occasion he said: “Never call me king. Other
nations may revere that name, but no Roman can endure it. My soldiers
have given me a more honorable title—that of general.”
Such nobility, such a display of Roman virtue, was a revelation to
these barbarians; and they felt the grandeur of the words, though they
could not quite understand them. They were won to the cause of Rome,
and formed loyal alliances with Scipio which they never broke.
In the year 206 B.C. Gades (Cadiz), the last stronghold, was
surrendered to the Romans, and the entire Spanish Peninsula had been
wrenched from the Carthaginians.
Iberia was changed to Hispania, and fifteen years
later the whole of the Peninsula was organized into a Roman province,
thenceforth known in history, not as Iberia, nor yet Hispania
; but Spain, and its people as Spaniards.
At the end of the third Punic war (149-146 B.C.), the ruin of the
Carthaginians was complete. Hannibal had died a fugitive and a suicide.
His nation had not a single ship upon the seas, nor a foot of territory
upon the earth, and the great city of Carthage was plowed and sowed
with salt. Rome had been used by Fate to fulfill her stern decree—“
Delenda est Carthago.”
It was really only a limited portion of the Peninsula; a fringe of
provinces upon the south and east coast, which had been under
Carthaginian and now acknowledged Roman dominion. Beyond these the
Keltiberian tribes in the center formed a sort of confederation, and
consented to certain alliances with the Romans; while beyond them,
intrenched in their own impregnable mountain fastnesses, were brave,
warlike, independent tribes, which had never known anything but
freedom, whose names even, Rome had not yet heard. The stern virtue and
nobility of Scipio proved a delusive promise. Rome had not an easy
task, and other and brutal methods were to be employed in subduing
stubborn tribes and making of the whole a Latin nation. In one of the
defiles of the Pyrenees there may now be seen the ruins of
fortifications built by Cato the Elder, not long after Scipio, which
show how early those free people in the north were made to feel the
iron heel of the master and to learn their lesson of submission.
The century which followed Scipio's conquest was one of dire
experience for Spain. A Roman army was trampling out every vestige of
freedom in provinces which had known nothing else; and more than that,
Roman diplomacy was making of their new possession a fighting ground
for the civil war which was then raging at Rome; and partisans of
Marius and of Sylla were using and slaughtering the native tribes in
their own desperate struggle. Roman rule was arrogant and oppressive,
Roman governors cruel, arbitrary, and rapacious, and the boasted “Roman
virtue” seemed to have been left in Rome, when treaties were made only
to be violated at pleasure.