University of Virginia Library

Scene XX.

—The Senate of Carthage. Senators pouring in confusedly. Enter Gisco, Bostar, &c.
1st Sen.
I scarce could make my way here, for the crowd.
Do you know anything?

2nd Sen.
No more than you—
That Scipio grants us peace—on what conditions,
It sickens me to guess.

1st Sen.
They say the twelve
Showed in the streets such faces of despair,
The mob were thunderstruck.

2nd Sen.
What's to do now?
If Hannibal and all his warlike faction
Renounce at last the struggle in despair,
What's left but to give Scipio all he asks?
And what will he not ask?

1st Sen.
Wise young Bomilcar,
Who frets for ever for the good old times,
In all societies gives out forsooth,
We suffer simply for the nation's sins;
So he and his young converts go about,
And preach that all we need is to restore
The human sacrifice. In former days,
As they remind us, in all great reverses,
Moloch had human victims for a bribe,
And then a blessing fell upon our doings.

3rd Sen.
There's one such victim might at least bribe Rome.
But if they think so, let them lead the way.
Let their young wives come with their sweetest smiles,
To lay their infants on those brazen arms;
Well kissed and petted, they will give no trouble,
And Moloch, we are told, likes merry victims;
And then their purple dresses look so well.
I warrant you there are old priests yet left,
Would gladly put on scarlet, and go heat
The furnace up to roaring. Tell him so.

4th Sen.
I heard to-day another doctrine preached;
'Twas by that Hebrew slave with the white beard—
A captive here they say these forty years—
Whom on the temple steps we see so oft,
In sullen silence sitting, hour by hour.
This day at last he lifted up his voice,
And cried, “Woe to the worshippers of Baal!”
And as he spoke, methought his eyes glared curses.

5th Sen.
Thou hadst done well there to have smote him dead.
Enter the two Suffetes, followed by the twelve Deputies.
Hark! Hark! Hear you the shouting of the mob?
Be sure 'tis Hannibal.
Enter Hannibal.
Is this the air,
With which a conquered general takes his place?

Bost.
The evil genius of the land, returned
To look upon the ruin he has wrought!

5th Sen.
He gazes round him, like a banished king
Surveying from his car reconquered subjects,
And choosing out his victims.

6th Sen.
Rather, say
A lion from the wilderness, for once
Compelled amongst the haunts of men to seek
A refuge from the mighty hunter's darts—
And finding them as strange as they find him.

[Silence is proclaimed.]
1st Suff.
Senate of Carthage! we salute you all!
In sackcloth and in ashes we are met,
This woefulest of all the days of woe,
That yet have fallen on Carthage, since the first
Beginning of these long and ill-starred wars.
Rome has prevailed. At Scipio's feet we lie
Prostrate, and on his pleasure we depend.
What shall I say more? Hannibal himself
Has bid us beg for peace. Enough. You know
The strait wherein we stand. Know then, to-day
Has Scipio's answer been received by us,
Who, with the hundred elders of the State,
Now deem it fitting to appeal once more
To the united voice of this assembly,
The Senate and nobility of Carthage.
Hear, then, the terms on which he grants us peace,
Whose legions at our very threshold wait—
Whilst Hannibal amongst us stands within,
Without an army, without hope or help,
Save his great name and fame. Now, sir, do you
Repeat to this assembly what you are charged with.

1st Dep.
These are the terms: “Carthage must make amends
For all the injuries to Romans done,
Pending the truce with Scipio—must restore
All prisoners and deserters—must give up
All her war-galleys, saving only ten—
Likewise her elephants, with promise given
To train no new ones for the line of battle—
Must wage no war beyond the bounds of Afric,
Nor any war without consent of Rome—
Must yield to Masanissa all that he
Or any of his fathers have possessed—
Must feed the Roman army for three months,
And pay it until it be carried home—
Must pay each year for fifty years to come,
To Rome, a tribute of two hundred talents—
And give one hundred hostages to Rome,
Betwixt the ages of fifteen and thirty,
To be selected at her general's pleasure.”
These are the terms by his own lips set forth.

[A loud and confused murmur from the assembly.]
2nd Suff.
Upon these terms, it seemeth, senators,
May Carthage be permitted to exist,
A miserable mockery of herself,
Till Rome think fit to blot her image out
For ever from the earth.

Senators.
[Speaking confusedly together.]
Must we bear this?
O Moloch, must we bear it?—Curst be Scipio!
What does he think the neck of Carthage made of,
That he should lay on it a yoke like this?—
What, by the gods, must we be yielded up,
Bound hand and foot, after this sort, to Rome,
To be first plundered, and then hewn in pieces?—
Children and money—all to go together!
Is this the end, O Baal?

Gis.
'Tis too much!
If Scipio takes away my money from me,
He may go take my daughter for a hostage,
For aught I care. As good be dead at once,
As have our blood drawn from us, drop by drop!
[Mounts the tribune.]
I, for one, senators, will ne'er consent
To this iniquity. I do lift up
My voice against it, and I call on you,
I say, on all of you, here present—

Han.
Silence!

[He drags Gisco from the tribune, amidst loud exclamations.]
2nd Suff.
For shame! Dost thou treat thus a senator,
And elder of thy city?

Gis.
By what right,
Dar'st thou cut short my speaking?

Han.
Pardon me,
My countrymen and fellow-citizens.
I do not know the usages of Carthage.
I left you, four-and-thirty years ago,
A child, for the rude company of soldiers,
And all that time have been too busy fighting
To learn good manners. I will mend my fault,
Trust me, before I go to war again;
But meanwhile hear me patiently this once,
And let me speak my thoughts upon this matter,
Wherein I pray you to believe e'en I
May have some small concern.

First Suff.
Speak on! We hear thee.

Han.
I say, then, fellow-citizens of Carthage,
We have no choice, and must accept these terms.
I say it, for I stand before you, vanquished
Not merely in a battle, but a war.
Our army is destroyed, nor have we means
To raise another. We have no allies—
Too much our neighbours hate us, for a hope
Of any help from others in a siege,
E'en were the dread of Scipio less prevailing.
Our citizens have not been trained to war,
To danger, nor to hardship. We have long
Dealt out these evils upon other lands,
Which, when brought home, we have no strength to bear,
Having neglected to provide for them.
The terms which Scipio offers us this day
Are hard, but may be better borne, I think,
Than instant and entire extermination.
We must accept them; yet, I say, take courage,
And make such sternly patient use of peace,
That we may hope to stand in arms once more,
Still strong with hate, and wiser from defeat.
For me, I swear to spend those energies
I hitherto have lavished on your wars,
In building up your strength and hopes at home.
If, therefore, as I think, I may have earned
Some right to claim my country's confidence,
By old successes, even though I stand
This day before you, as a conquered man,
You will, like me, hold out against despair.
This is my counsel—rather say your fate.

First Suff.
Ye have heard Hannibal. Too true it is,
'Tis madness but to whisper of resistance.
He tells you so, who has tried Rome so long,
And knows her better far than you or I;
He calls for prudence—shall we counsel rashness?
He bids us hope, and shall we then despair?

Sen.
Alas! alas! To this, then, war has brought us!
Bereaved, impoverished, shamed!—A Libyan boy,
A false Numidian, raised to rival us!—
Two hundred talents! Hear it, ghost of Dido!—
Was't not enough he treads us to the dust,
And must he rob us of our all besides?

Gis.
Temple of Hercules! for fifty years!
Woe, woe, is us! The substance we have heaped
With so much toil together! Luxury
And splendour, such as far outdazzled Tyre!
A day of tears indeed! Who shall not weep?
By all the gods, thou smilest, Hannibal!

Second Suff.
Smilest thou o'er the country thou hast ruined?

Han.
Your pardon, sirs! Could hearts be read like faces,
Then might you read in mine such shame for you,
As sheds no tears but tears of blood within.
Weep, if you will, then—not for Zama's slain,
Not for your children to be torn from you,
Not for your standards trailed through Rome in triumph,
Not for your war-ships which made Carthage great,
Not for your elephants which made Rome tremble,
Not for your ruined majesty in Afric—
Weep not for these, but for your paltry purses;
And let me laugh, who cannot weep with you.

First Suff.
If any man rejects the terms of Scipio,
Let him lift up his hand. Not one. Be it resolved
We send an embassy with our submission.

[The Senate breaks up.]