第 十三 章 · MOLOCH

. MOLOCH

The Barbarians had no need of a circumvallation on the side of Africa,

for it was theirs. But to facilitate the approach to the walls, the

entrenchments bordering the ditch were thrown down. Matho next divided

the army into great semicircles so as to encompass Carthage the better.

The hoplites of the Mercenaries were placed in the first rank, and

behind them the slingers and horsemen; quite at the back were the

baggage, chariots, and horses; and the engines bristled in front of this

throng at a distance of three hundred paces from the towers.

Amid the infinite variety of their nomenclature (which changed several

times in the course of the centuries) these machines might be reduced to

two systems: some acted like slings, and the rest like bows.

The first, which were the catapults, was composed of a square frame with

two vertical uprights and a horizontal bar. In its anterior portion was

a cylinder, furnished with cables, which held back a great beam bearing

a spoon for the reception of projectiles; its base was caught in a

skein of twisted thread, and when the ropes were let go it sprang up and

struck against the bar, which, checking it with a shock, multiplied its

power.

The second presented a more complicated mechanism. A cross-bar had its

centre fixed on a little pillar, and from this point of junction there

branched off at right angles a short of channel; two caps containing

twists of horse-hair stood at the extremities of the cross-bar; two

small beams were fastened to them to hold the extremities of a rope

which was brought to the bottom of the channel upon a tablet of bronze.

This metal plate was released by a spring, and sliding in grooves

impelled the arrows.

The catapults were likewise called onagers, after the wild asses which

fling up stones with their feet, and the ballistas scorpions, on account

of a hook which stood upon the tablet, and being lowered by a blow of

the fist, released the spring.

Their construction required learned calculations; the wood selected had

to be of the hardest substance, and their gearing all of brass; they

were stretched with levers, tackle-blocks, capstans or tympanums; the

direction of the shooting was changed by means of strong pivots; they

were moved forward on cylinders, and the most considerable of them,

which were brought piece by piece, were set up in front of the enemy.

Spendius arranged three great catapults opposite the three principle

angles; he placed a ram before every gate, a ballista before every

tower, while carroballistas were to move about in the rear. But it was

necessary to protect them against the fire thrown by the besieged, and

first of all to fill up the trench which separated them from the walls.

They pushed forward galleries formed of hurdles of green reeds, and

oaken semicircles like enormous shields gliding on three wheels; the

workers were sheltered in little huts covered with raw hides and stuffed

with wrack; the catapults and ballistas were protected by rope curtains

which had been steeped in vinegar to render them incombustible. The

women and children went to procure stones on the strand, and gathered

earth with their hands and brought it to the soldiers.

The Carthaginians also made preparations.

Hamilcar had speedily reassured them by declaring that there was enough

water left in the cisterns for one hundred and twenty-three days. This

assertion, together with his presence, and above all that of the zaïmph

among them, gave them good hopes. Carthage recovered from its dejection;

those who were not of Chanaanitish origin were carried away by the

passion of the rest.

The slaves were armed, the arsenals were emptied, and every citizen had

his own post and his own employment. Twelve hundred of the fugitives

had survived, and the Suffet made them all captains; and carpenters,

armourers, blacksmiths, and goldsmiths were intrusted with the engines.

The Carthaginians had kept a few in spite of the conditions of the peace

with Rome. These were repaired. They understood such work.

The two northern and eastern sides, being protected by the sea and the

gulf, remained inaccessible. On the wall fronting the Barbarians they

collected tree-trunks, mill-stones, vases filled with sulphur, and

vats filled with oil, and built furnaces. Stones were heaped up on the

platforms of the towers, and the houses bordering immediately on the

rampart were crammed with sand in order to strengthen it and increase

its thickness.

The Barbarians grew angry at the sight of these preparations. They

wished to fight at once. The weights which they put into the catapults

were so extravagantly heavy that the beams broke, and the attack was

delayed.

At last on the thirteenth day of the month of Schabar,—at sunrise,—a

great blow was heard at the gate of Khamon.

Seventy-five soldiers were pulling at ropes arranged at the base of a

gigantic beam which was suspended horizontally by chains hanging from a

framework, and which terminated in a ram’s head of pure brass. It had

been swathed in ox-hides; it was bound at intervals with iron bracelets;

it was thrice as thick as a man’s body, one hundred and twenty cubits

long, and under the crowd of naked arms pushing it forward and drawing

it back, it moved to and fro with a regular oscillation.

The other rams before the other gates began to be in motion. Men

might be seen mounting from step to step in the hollow wheels of the

tympanums. The pulleys and caps grated, the rope curtains were lowered,

and showers of stones and showers of arrows poured forth simultaneously;

all the scattered slingers ran up. Some approached the rampart hiding

pots of resin under their shields; then they would hurl these with all

their might. This hail of bullets, darts, and flames passed above the

first ranks in the form of a curve which fell behind the walls. But

long cranes, used for masting vessels, were reared on the summit of the

ramparts; and from them there descended some of those enormous pincers

which terminated in two semicircles toothed on the inside. They bit the

rams. The soldiers clung to the beam and drew it back. The Carthaginians

hauled in order to pull it up; and the action was prolonged until the

evening.

When the Mercenaries resumed their task on the following day, the tops

of the walls were completely carpeted with bales of cotton, sails, and

cushions; the battlements were stopped up with mats; and a line of forks

and blades, fixed upon sticks, might be distinguished among the cranes

on the rampart. A furious resistance immediately began.

Trunks of trees fastened to cables fell and rose alternately and

battered the rams; cramps hurled by the ballistas tore away the roofs of

the huts; and streams of flints and pebbles poured from the platforms of

the towers.

At last the rams broke the gates of Khamon and Tagaste. But the

Carthaginians had piled up such an abundance of materials on the inside

that the leaves did not open. They remained standing.

Then they drove augers against the walls; these were applied to the

joints of the blocks, so as to detach the latter. The engines were

better managed, the men serving them were divided into squads, and they

were worked from morning till evening without interruption and with the

monotonous precision of a weaver’s loom.

Spendius returned to them untiringly. It was he who stretched the skeins

of the ballistas. In order that the twin tensions might completely

correspond, the ropes as they were tightened were struck on the right

and left alternately until both sides gave out an equal sound. Spendius

would mount upon the timbers. He would strike the ropes softly with

the extremity of his foot, and strain his ears like a musician tuning

a lyre. Then when the beam of the catapult rose, when the pillar of the

ballista trembled with the shock of the spring, when the stones were

shooting in rays, and the darts pouring in streams, he would incline his

whole body and fling his arms into the air as though to follow them.

The soldiers admired his skill and executed his commands. In the gaiety

of their work they gave utterance to jests on the names of the machines.

Thus the plyers for seizing the rams were called “wolves,” and the

galleries were covered with “vines”; they were lambs, or they were

going to gather the grapes; and as they loaded their pieces they

would say to the onagers: “Come, pick well!” and to the scorpions:

“Pierce them to the heart!” These jokes, which were ever the same,

kept up their courage.

Nevertheless the machines did not demolish the rampart. It was formed of

two walls and was completely filled with earth. The upper portions were

beaten down, but each time the besieged raised them again. Matho ordered

the construction of wooden towers which should be as high as the towers

of stone. They cast turf, stakes, pebbles and chariots with their wheels

into the trench so as to fill it up the more quickly; but before this

was accomplished the immense throng of the Barbarians undulated over the

plain with a single movement and came beating against the foot of the

walls like an overflowing sea.

They moved forward the rope ladders, straight ladders, and sambucas,

the latter consisting of two poles from which a series of bamboos

terminating in a moveable bridge were lowered by means of tackling.

They formed numerous straight lines resting against the wall, and the

Mercenaries mounted them in files, holding their weapons in their hands.

Not a Carthaginian showed himself; already two thirds of the rampart

had been covered. Then the battlements opened, vomiting flames and smoke

like dragon jaws; the sand scattered and entered the joints of their

armour; the petroleum fastened on their garments; the liquid lead

hopped on their helmets and made holes in their flesh; a rain of sparks

splashed against their faces, and eyeless orbits seemed to weep tears as

big as almonds. There were men all yellow with oil, with their hair

in flames. They began to run and set fire to the rest. They were

extinguished in mantles steeped in blood, which were thrown from a

distance over their faces. Some who had no wounds remained motionless,

stiffer than stakes, their mouths open and their arms outspread.

The assault was renewed for several days in succession, the Mercenaries

hoping to triumph by extraordinary energy and audacity.

Sometimes a man raised on the shoulders of another would drive a

pin between the stones, and then making use of it as a step to reach

further, would place a second and a third; and, protected by the edge

of the battlements, which stood out from the wall, they would gradually

raise themselves in this way; but on reaching a certain height they

always fell back again. The great trench was full to overflowing;

the wounded were massed pell-mell with the dead and dying beneath the

footsteps of the living. Calcined trunks formed black spots amid opened

entrails, scattered brains, and pools of blood; and arms and legs

projecting half way out of a heap, would stand straight up like props in

a burning vineyard.

The ladders proving insufficient the tollenos were brought into

requisition,—instruments consisting of a long beam set transversely

upon another, and bearing at its extremity a quadrangular basket which

would hold thirty foot-soldiers with their weapons.

Matho wished to ascend in the first that was ready. Spendius stopped

him.

Some men bent over a capstan; the great beam rose, became horizontal,

reared itself almost vertically, and being overweighted at the end, bent

like a huge reed. The soldiers, who were crowded together, were hidden

up to their chins; only their helmet-plumes could be seen. At last when

it was twenty cubits high in the air it turned several times to the

right and to the left, and then was depressed; and like a giant arm

holding a cohort of pigmies in its hand, it laid the basketful of

men upon the edge of the wall. They leaped into the crowd and never

returned.

All the other tollenos were speedily made ready. But a hundred times

as many would have been needed for the capture of the town. They were

utilised in a murderous fashion: Ethiopian archers were placed in the

baskets; then, the cables having been fastened, they remained suspended

and shot poisoned arrows. The fifty tollenos commanding the battlements

thus surrounded Carthage like monstrous vultures; and the Negroes

laughed to see the guards on the rampart dying in grievous convulsions.

Hamilcar sent hoplites to these posts, and every morning made them drink

the juice of certain herbs which protected them against the poison.

One evening when it was dark he embarked the best of his soldiers

on lighters and planks, and turning to the right of the harbour,

disembarked on the Tænia. Then he advanced to the first lines of

the Barbarians, and taking them in flank, made a great slaughter. Men

hanging to ropes would descend at night from the top of the wall with

torches in their hands, burn the works of the Mercenaries, and then

mount up again.

Matho was exasperated; every obstacle strengthened his wrath, which led

him into terrible extravagances. He mentally summoned Salammbô to an

interview; then he waited. She did not come; this seemed to him like a

fresh piece of treachery,—and henceforth he execrated her. If he

had seen her corpse he would perhaps have gone away. He doubled the

outposts, he planted forks at the foot of the rampart, he drove caltrops

into the ground, and he commanded the Libyans to bring him a whole

forest that he might set it on fire and burn Carthage like a den of

foxes.

Spendius went on obstinately with the siege. He sought to invent

terrible machines such as had never before been constructed.

The other Barbarians, encamped at a distance on the isthmus, were amazed

at these delays; they murmured, and they were let loose.

Then they rushed with their cutlasses and javelins, and beat against

the gates with them. But the nakedness of their bodies facilitating the

infliction of wounds, the Carthaginians massacred them freely; and the

Mercenaries rejoiced at it, no doubt through jealousy about the plunder.

Hence there resulted quarrels and combats between them. Then, the

country having been ravaged, provisions were soon scarce. They grew

disheartened. Numerous hordes went away, but the crowd was so great that

the loss was not apparent.

The best of them tried to dig mines, but the earth, being badly

supported, fell in. They began again in other places, but Hamilcar

always guessed the direction that they were taking by holding his ear

against a bronze shield. He bored counter-mines beneath the path along

which the wooden towers were to move, and when they were pushed forward

they sank into the holes.

At last all recognised that the town was impregnable, unless a long

terrace was raised to the same height as the walls, so as to enable them

to fight on the same level. The top of it should be paved so that

the machines might be rolled along. Then Carthage would find it quite

impossible to resist.

The town was beginning to suffer from thirst. The water which was worth

two kesitahs the bath at the opening of the siege was now sold for

a shekel of silver; the stores of meat and corn were also becoming

exhausted; there was a dread of famine, and some even began to speak of

useless mouths, which terrified every one.

From the square of Khamon to the temple of Melkarth the streets were

cumbered with corpses; and, as it was the end of the summer, the

combatants were annoyed by great black flies. Old men carried off the

wounded, and the devout continued the fictitious funerals for their

relatives and friends who had died far away during the war. Waxen

statues with clothes and hair were displayed across the gates. They

melted in the heat of the tapers burning beside them; the paint flowed

down upon their shoulders, and tears streamed over the faces of the

living, as they chanted mournful songs beside them. The crowd meanwhile

ran to and fro; armed bands passed; captains shouted orders, while the

shock of the rams beating against the rampart was constantly heard.

The temperature became so heavy that the bodies swelled and would no

longer fit into the coffins. They were burned in the centre of the

courts. But the fires, being too much confined, kindled the neighbouring

walls, and long flames suddenly burst from the houses like blood

spurting from an artery. Thus Moloch was in possession of Carthage; he

clasped the ramparts, he rolled through the streets, he devoured the

very corpses.

Men wearing cloaks made of collected rags in token of despair, stationed

themselves at the corners of the cross-ways. They declaimed against the

Ancients and against Hamilcar, predicted complete ruin to the people,

and invited them to universal destruction and license. The most

dangerous were the henbane-drinkers; in their crisis they believed

themselves wild beasts, and leaped upon the passers-by to rend them.

Mobs formed around them, and the defence of Carthage was forgotten. The

Suffet devised the payment of others to support his policy.

In order to retain the genius of the gods within the town their images

had been covered with chains. Black veils were placed upon the Patæc

gods, and hair-cloths around the altars; and attempts were made to

excite the pride and jealousy of the Baals by singing in their ears:

“Thou art about to suffer thyself to be vanquished! Are the others

perchance more strong? Show thyself! aid us! that the peoples may not

say: ‘Where are now their gods?’”

The colleges of the pontiffs were agitated by unceasing anxiety. Those

of Rabbetna were especially afraid—the restoration of the zaïmph

having been of no avail. They kept themselves shut up in the third

enclosure which was as impregnable as a fortress. Only one among them,

the high priest Schahabarim, ventured to go out.

He used to visit Salammbô. But he would either remain perfectly silent,

gazing at her with fixed eyeballs, or else would be lavish of words, and

the reproaches that he uttered were harder than ever.

With inconceivable inconsistency he could not forgive the young girl

for carrying out his commands; Schahabarim had guessed all, and this

haunting thought revived the jealousies of his impotence. He accused her

of being the cause of the war. Matho, according to him, was besieging

Carthage to recover the zaïmph; and he poured out imprecations and

sarcasms upon this Barbarian who pretended to the possession of holy

things. Yet it was not this that the priest wished to say.

But just now Salammbô felt no terror of him. The anguish which she used

formerly to suffer had left her. A strange peacefulness possessed her.

Her gaze was less wandering, and shone with limpid fire.

Meanwhile the python had become ill again; and as Salammbô, on the

contrary, appeared to be recovering, old Taanach rejoiced in the

conviction that by its decline it was taking away the languor of her

mistress.

One morning she found it coiled up behind the bed of ox-hides, colder

than marble, and with its head hidden by a heap of worms. Her cries

brought Salammbô to the spot. She turned it over for a while with the

tip of her sandal, and the slave was amazed at her insensibility.

Hamilcar’s daughter no longer prolonged her fasts with so much

fervour. She passed whole days on the top of her terrace, leaning her

elbows against the balustrade, and amusing herself by looking out before

her. The summits of the walls at the end of the town cut uneven zigzags

upon the sky, and the lances of the sentries formed what was like a

border of corn-ears throughout their length. Further away she could see

the manouvres of the Barbarians between the towers; on days when the

siege was interrupted she could even distinguish their occupations. They

mended their weapons, greased their hair, and washed their bloodstained

arms in the sea; the tents were closed; the beasts of burden were

feeding; and in the distance the scythes of the chariots, which were all

ranged in a semicircle, looked like a silver scimitar lying at the base

of the mountains. Schahabarim’s talk recurred to her memory. She was

waiting for Narr’ Havas, her betrothed. In spite of her hatred she

would have liked to see Matho again. Of all the Carthaginians she was

perhaps the only one who would have spoken to him without fear.

Her father often came into her room. He would sit down panting on the

cushions, and gaze at her with an almost tender look, as if he found

some rest from her fatigues in the sight of her. He sometimes questioned

her about her journey to the camp of the Mercenaries. He even asked her

whether any one had urged her to it; and with a shake of the head she

answered, No,—so proud was Salammbô of having saved the zaïmph.

But the Suffet always came back to Matho under pretence of making

military inquiries. He could not understand how the hours which she had

spent in the tent had been employed. Salammbô, in fact, said nothing

about Gisco; for as words had an effective power in themselves, curses,

if reported to any one, might be turned against him; and she was silent

about her wish to assassinate, lest she should be blamed for not having

yielded to it. She said that the schalischim appeared furious, that he

had shouted a great deal, and that he had then fallen asleep. Salammbô

told no more, through shame perhaps, or else because she was led by her

extreme ingenuousness to attach but little importance to the soldier’s

kisses. Moreover, it all floated through her head in a melancholy and

misty fashion, like the recollection of a depressing dream; and she

would not have known in what way or in what words to express it.

One evening when they were thus face to face with each other, Taanach

came in looking quite scared. An old man with a child was yonder in the

courts, and wished to see the Suffet.

Hamilcar turned pale, and then quickly replied:

“Let him come up!”

Iddibal entered without prostrating himself. He held a young boy,

covered with a goat’s-hair cloak, by the hand, and at once raised the

hood which screened his face.

“Here he is, Master! Take him!”

The Suffet and the slave went into a corner of the room.

The child remained in the centre standing upright, and with a gaze

of attention rather than of astonishment he surveyed the ceiling, the

furniture, the pearl necklaces trailing on the purple draperies, and the

majestic maiden who was bending over towards him.

He was perhaps ten years old, and was not taller than a Roman sword. His

curly hair shaded his swelling forehead. His eyeballs looked as if they

were seeking for space. The nostrils of his delicate nose were broad

and palpitating, and upon his whole person was displayed the indefinable

splendour of those who are destined to great enterprises. When he had

cast aside his extremely heavy cloak, he remained clad in a lynx skin,

which was fastened about his waist, and he rested his little naked feet,

which were all white with dust, resolutely upon the pavement. But he no

doubt divined that important matters were under discussion, for he

stood motionless, with one hand behind his back, his chin lowered, and a

finger in his mouth.

At last Hamilcar attracted Salammbô with a sign and said to her in a

low voice:

“You will keep him with you, you understand! No one, even though

belonging to the house, must know of his existence!”

Then, behind the door, he again asked Iddibal whether he was quite sure

that they had not been noticed.

“No!” said the slave, “the streets were empty.”

As the war filled all the provinces he had feared for his master’s

son. Then, not knowing where to hide him, he had come along the coasts

in a sloop, and for three days Iddibal had been tacking about in the

gulf and watching the ramparts. At last, that evening, as the environs

of Khamon seemed to be deserted, he had passed briskly through the

channel and landed near the arsenal, the entrance to the harbour being

free.

But soon the Barbarians posted an immense raft in front of it in order

to prevent the Carthaginians from coming out. They were again rearing

the wooden towers, and the terrace was rising at the same time.

Outside communications were cut off and an intolerable famine set in.

The besieged killed all the dogs, all the mules, all the asses, and then

the fifteen elephants which the Suffet had brought back. The lions of

the temple of Moloch had become ferocious, and the hierodules no longer

durst approach them. They were fed at first with the wounded Barbarians;

then they were thrown corpses that were still warm; they refused

them, and they all died. People wandered in the twilight along the old

enclosures, and gathered grass and flowers among the stones to boil

them in wine, wine being cheaper than water. Others crept as far as

the enemy’s outposts, and entered the tents to steal food, and the

stupefied Barbarians sometimes allowed them to return. At last a day

arrived when the Ancients resolved to slaughter the horses of Eschmoun

privately. They were holy animals whose manes were plaited by the

pontiffs with gold ribbons, and whose existence denoted the motion of

the sun—the idea of fire in its most exalted form. Their flesh was cut

into equal portions and buried behind the altar. Then every evening the

Ancients, alleging some act of devotion, would go up to the temple and

regale themselves in secret, and each would take away a piece beneath

his tunic for his children. In the deserted quarters remote from the

walls, the inhabitants, whose misery was not so great, had barricaded

themselves through fear of the rest.

The stones from the catapults, and the demolitions commanded for

purposes of defence, had accumulated heaps of ruins in the middle of

the streets. At the quietest times masses of people would suddenly rush

along with shouts; and from the top of the Acropolis the conflagrations

were like purple rags scattered upon the terraces and twisted by the

wind.

The three great catapults did not stop in spite of all these works.

Their ravages were extraordinary: thus a man’s head rebounded from the

pediment of the Syssitia; a woman who was being confined in the street

of Kinisdo was crushed by a block of marble, and her child was carried

with the bed as far as the crossways of Cinasyn, where the coverlet was

found.

The most annoying were the bullets of the slingers. They fell upon the

roofs, and in the gardens, and in the middle of the courts, while people

were at table before a slender meal with their hearts big with sighs.

These cruel projectiles bore engraved letters which stamped themselves

upon the flesh;—and insults might be read on corpses such as

“pig,” “jackal,” “vermin,” and sometimes jests: “Catch

it!” or “I have well deserved it!”

The portion of the rampart which extended from the corner of the

harbours to the height of the cisterns was broken down. Then the people

of Malqua found themselves caught between the old enclosure of Byrsa

behind, and the Barbarians in front. But there was enough to be done in

thickening the wall and making it as high as possible without troubling

about them; they were abandoned; all perished; and although they were

generally hated, Hamilcar came to be greatly abhorred.

On the morrow he opened the pits in which he kept stores of corn,

and his stewards gave it to the people. For three days they gorged

themselves.

Their thirst, however, only became the more intolerable, and they could

constantly see before them the long cascade formed by the clear falling

water of the aqueduct. A thin vapour, with a rainbow beside it, went up

from its base, beneath the rays of the sun, and a little stream curving

through the plain fell into the gulf.

Hamilcar did not give way. He was reckoning upon an event, upon

something decisive and extraordinary.

His own slaves tore off the silver plates from the temple of Melkarth;

four long boats were drawn out of the harbour, they were brought by

means of capstans to the foot of the Mappalian quarter, the wall facing

the shore was bored, and they set out for the Gauls to buy Mercenaries

there at no matter what price. Nevertheless, Hamilcar was distressed at

his inability to communicate with the king of the Numidians, for he

knew that he was behind the Barbarians, and ready to fall upon them. But

Narr’ Havas, being too weak, was not going to make any venture alone;

and the Suffet had the rampart raised twelve palms higher, all the

material in the arsenals piled up in the Acropolis, and the machines

repaired once more.

Sinews taken from bulls’ necks, or else stags’ hamstrings, were

commonly employed for the twists of the catapults. However, neither

stags nor bulls were in existence in Carthage. Hamilcar asked the

Ancients for the hair of their wives; all sacrificed it, but the

quantity was not sufficient. In the buildings of the Syssitia there were

twelve hundred marriageable slaves destined for prostitution in Greece

and Italy, and their hair, having been rendered elastic by the use

of unguents, was wonderfully well adapted for engines of war. But the

subsequent loss would be too great. Accordingly it was decided that a

choice should be made of the finest heads of hair among the wives of the

plebeians. Careless of their country’s needs, they shrieked in despair

when the servants of the Hundred came with scissors to lay hands upon

them.

The Barbarians were animated with increased fury. They could be seen in

the distance taking fat from the dead to grease their machines, while

others pulled out the nails and stitched them end to end to make

cuirasses. They devised a plan of putting into the catapults vessels

filled with serpents which had been brought by the Negroes; the clay

pots broke on the flag-stones, the serpents ran about, seemed to

multiply, and, so numerous were they, to issue naturally from the walls.

Then the Barbarians, not satisfied with their invention, improved upon

it; they hurled all kinds of filth, human excrements, pieces of carrion,

corpses. The plague reappeared. The teeth of the Carthaginians fell out

of their mouths, and their gums were discoloured like those of camels

after too long a journey.

The machines were set up on the terrace, although the latter did not

as yet reach everywhere to the height of the rampart. Before the

twenty-three towers on the fortification stood twenty-three others of

wood. All the tollenos were mounted again, and in the centre, a

little further back, appeared the formidable helepolis of Demetrius

Poliorcetes, which Spendius had at last reconstructed. Of pyramidical

shape, like the pharos of Alexandria, it was one hundred and thirty

cubits high and twenty-three wide, with nine stories, diminishing as

they approached the summit, and protected by scales of brass; they were

pierced with numerous doors and were filled with soldiers, and on the

upper platform there stood a catapult flanked by two ballistas.

Then Hamilcar planted crosses for those who should speak of surrender,

and even the women were brigaded. The people lay in the streets and

waited full of distress.

Then one morning before sunrise (it was the seventh day of the month

of Nyssan) they heard a great shout uttered by all the Barbarians

simultaneously; the leaden-tubed trumpets pealed, and the great

Paphlagonian horns bellowed like bulls. All rose and ran to the rampart.

A forest of lances, pikes, and swords bristled at its base. It leaped

against the wall, the ladders grappled them; and Barbarians’ heads

appeared in the intervals of the battlements.

Beams supported by long files of men were battering at the gates; and,

in order to demolish the wall at places where the terrace was wanting,

the Mercenaries came up in serried cohorts, the first line crawling, the

second bending their hams, and the others rising in succession to the

last who stood upright; while elsewhere, in order to climb up, the

tallest advanced in front and the lowest in the rear, and all rested

their shields upon their helmets with their left arms, joining them

together at the edges so tightly that they might have been taken for an

assemblage of large tortoises. The projectiles slid over these oblique

masses.

The Carthaginians threw down mill-stones, pestles, vats, casks, beds,

everything that could serve as a weight and could knock down. Some

watched at the embrasures with fisherman’s nets, and when the

Barbarian arrived he found himself caught in the meshes, and struggled

like a fish. They demolished their own battlements; portions of wall

fell down raising a great dust; and as the catapults on the terrace were

shooting over against one another, the stones would strike together

and shiver into a thousand pieces, making a copious shower upon the

combatants.

Soon the two crowds formed but one great chain of human bodies; it

overflowed into the intervals in the terrace, and, somewhat looser at

the two extremities, swayed perpetually without advancing. They clasped

one another, lying flat on the ground like wrestlers. They crushed one

another. The women leaned over the battlements and shrieked. They

were dragged away by their veils, and the whiteness of their suddenly

uncovered sides shone in the arms of the Negroes as the latter buried

their daggers in them. Some corpses did not fall, being too much pressed

by the crowd, and, supported by the shoulders of their companions,

advanced for some minutes quite upright and with staring eyes. Some

who had both temples pierced by a javelin swayed their heads about like

bears. Mouths, opened to shout, remained gaping; severed hands flew

through the air. Mighty blows were dealt, which were long talked of by

the survivors.

Meanwhile arrows darted from the towers of wood and stone. The tollenos

moved their long yards rapidly; and as the Barbarians had sacked the

old cemetery of the aborigines beneath the Catacombs, they hurled the

tombstones against the Carthaginians. Sometimes the cables broke under

the weight of too heavy baskets, and masses of men, all with uplifted

arms, would fall from the sky.

Up to the middle of the day the veterans had attacked the Tænia

fiercely in order to penetrate into the harbour and destroy the fleet.

Hamilcar had a fire of damp straw lit upon the roofing of Khamon, and

as the smoke blinded them they fell back to left, and came to swell

the horrible rout which was pressing forward in Malqua. Some syntagmata

composed of sturdy men, chosen expressly for the purpose, had broken in

three gates. They were checked by lofty barriers made of planks studded

with nails, but a fourth yielded easily; they dashed over it at a

run and rolled into a pit in which there were hidden snares. At the

south-west gate Autaritus and his men broke down the rampart, the

fissure in which had been stopped up with bricks. The ground behind

rose, and they climbed it nimbly. But on the top they found a second

wall composed of stones and long beams lying quite flat and alternating

like the squares on a chess-board. It was a Gaulish fashion, and had

been adapted by the Suffet to the requirements of the situation; the

Gauls imagined themselves before a town in their own country. Their

attack was weak, and they were repulsed.

All the roundway, from the street of Khamon as far as the Green Market,

now belonged to the Barbarians, and the Samnites were finishing off

the dying with blows of stakes; or else with one foot on the wall were

gazing down at the smoking ruins beneath them, and the battle which was

beginning again in the distance.

The slingers, who were distributed through the rear, were still

shooting. But the springs of the Acarnanian slings had broken from use,

and many were throwing stones with the hand like shepherds; the rest

hurled leaden bullets with the handle of a whip. Zarxas, his shoulders

covered with his long black hair, went about everywhere, and led on the

Barbarians. Two pouches hung at his hips; he thrust his left hand

into them continually, while his right arm whirled round like a

chariot-wheel.

Matho had at first refrained from fighting, the better to command

the Barbarians all at once. He had been seen along the gulf with the

Mercenaries, near the lagoon with the Numidians, and on the shores of

the lake among the Negroes, and from the back part of the plain he urged

forward masses of soldiers who came ceaselessly against the ramparts. By

degrees he had drawn near; the smell of blood, the sight of carnage, and

the tumult of clarions had at last made his heart leap. Then he had gone

back into his tent, and throwing off his cuirass had taken his lion’s

skin as being more convenient for battle. The snout fitted upon his

head, bordering his face with a circle of fangs; the two fore-paws were

crossed upon his breast, and the claws of the hinder ones fell beneath

his knees.

He had kept on his strong waist-belt, wherein gleamed a two-edged axe,

and with his great sword in both hands he had dashed impetuously through

the breach. Like a pruner cutting willow-branches and trying to strike

off as much as possible so as to make the more money, he marched along

mowing down the Carthaginians around him. Those who tried to seize him

in flank he knocked down with blows of the pommel; when they attacked

him in front he ran them through; if they fled he clove them. Two men

leaped together upon his back; he bounded backwards against a gate and

crushed them. His sword fell and rose. It shivered on the angle of a

wall. Then he took his heavy axe, and front and rear he ripped up the

Carthaginians like a flock of sheep. They scattered more and more, and

he was quite alone when he reached the second enclosure at the foot

of the Acropolis. The materials which had been flung from the summit

cumbered the steps and were heaped up higher than the wall. Matho turned

back amid the ruins to summons his companions.

He perceived their crests scattered over the multitude; they were

sinking and their wearers were about to perish; he dashed towards them;

then the vast wreath of red plumes closed in, and they soon rejoined him

and surrounded him. But an enormous crowd was discharging from the side

streets. He was caught by the hips, lifted up and carried away outside

the ramparts to a spot where the terrace was high.

Matho shouted a command and all the shields sank upon the helmets; he

leaped upon them in order to catch hold somewhere so as to re-enter

Carthage; and, flourishing his terrible axe, ran over the shields, which

resembled waves of bronze, like a marine god, with brandished trident,

over his billows.

However, a man in a white robe was walking along the edge of the

rampart, impassible, and indifferent to the death which surrounded him.

Sometimes he would spread out his right hand above his eyes in order

to find out some one. Matho happened to pass beneath him. Suddenly his

eyeballs flamed, his livid face contracted; and raising both his lean

arms he shouted out abuse at him.

Matho did not hear it; but he felt so furious and cruel a look entering

his heart that he uttered a roar. He hurled his long axe at him; some

people threw themselves upon Schahabarim; and Matho seeing him no more

fell back exhausted.

A terrible creaking drew near, mingled with the rhythm of hoarse voices

singing together.

It was the great helepolis surrounded by a crowd of soldiers. They were

dragging it with both hands, hauling it with ropes, and pushing it with

their shoulders,—for the slope rising from the plain to the terrace,

although extremely gentle, was found impracticable for machines of such

prodigious weight. However, it had eight wheels banded with iron, and it

had been advancing slowly in this way since the morning, like a mountain

raised upon another. Then there appeared an immense ram issuing from its

base. The doors along the three fronts which faced the town fell down,

and cuirassed soldiers appeared in the interior like pillars of iron.

Some might be seen climbing and descending the two staircases which

crossed the stories. Some were waiting to dart out as soon as the cramps

of the doors touched the walls; in the middle of the upper platform the

skeins of the ballistas were turning, and the great beam of the catapult

was being lowered.

Hamilcar was at that moment standing upright on the roof of Melkarth. He

had calculated that it would come directly towards him, against what was

the most invulnerable place in the wall, which was for that very reason

denuded of sentries. His slaves had for a long time been bringing

leathern bottles along the roundway, where they had raised with clay

two transverse partitions forming a sort of basin. The water was flowing

insensibly along the terrace, and strange to say, it seemed to cause

Hamilcar no anxiety.

But when the helepolis was thirty paces off, he commanded planks to

be placed over the streets between the houses from the cisterns to

the rampart; and a file of people passed from hand to hand helmets and

amphoras, which were emptied continually. The Carthaginians, however,

grew indignant at this waste of water. The ram was demolishing the wall,

when suddenly a fountain sprang forth from the disjointed stones. Then

the lofty brazen mass, nine stories high, which contained and engaged

more than three thousand soldiers, began to rock gently like a ship.

In fact, the water, which had penetrated the terrace, had broken up the

path before it; its wheels stuck in the mire; the head of Spendius,

with distended cheeks blowing an ivory cornet, appeared between leathern

curtains on the first story. The great machine, as though convulsively

upheaved, advanced perhaps ten paces; but the ground softened more and

more, the mire reached to the axles, and the helepolis stopped, leaning

over frightfully to one side. The catapult rolled to the edge of the

platform, and carried away by the weight of its beam, fell, shattering

the lower stories beneath it. The soldiers who were standing on the

doors slipped into the abyss, or else held on to the extremities of

the long beams, and by their weight increased the inclination of the

helepolis, which was going to pieces with creakings in all its joints.

The other Barbarians rushed up to help them, massing themselves into

a compact crowd. The Carthaginians descended from the rampart, and,

assailing them in the rear, killed them at leisure. But the chariots

furnished with sickles hastened up, and galloped round the outskirts of

the multitude. The latter ascended the wall again; night came on; and

the Barbarians gradually retired.

Nothing could now be seen on the plain but a sort of perfectly black,

swarming mass, which extended from the bluish gulf to the purely white

lagoon; and the lake, which had received streams of blood, stretched

further away like a great purple pool.

The terrace was now so laden with corpses that it looked as though it

had been constructed of human bodies. In the centre stood the helepolis

covered with armour; and from time to time huge fragments broke off

from it, like stones from a crumbling pyramid. Broad tracks made by

the streams of lead might be distinguished on the walls. A broken-down

wooden tower burned here and there, and the houses showed dimly like the

stages of a ruined ampitheatre. Heavy fumes of smoke were rising, and

rolling with them sparks which were lost in the dark sky.

The Carthaginians, however, who were consumed by thirst, had rushed to

the cisterns. They broke open the doors. A miry swamp stretched at the

bottom.

What was to be done now? Moreover, the Barbarians were countless, and

when their fatigue was over they would begin again.

The people deliberated all night in groups at the corners of the

streets. Some said that they ought to send away the women, the sick, and

the old men; others proposed to abandon the town, and found a colony far

away. But vessels were lacking, and when the sun appeared no decision

had been made.

There was no fighting that day, all being too much exhausted. The

sleepers looked like corpses.

Then the Carthaginians, reflecting upon the cause of their disasters,

remembered that they had not dispatched to Phonicia the annual offering

due to Tyrian Melkarth, and a great terror came upon them. The gods

were indignant with the Republic, and were, no doubt, about to prosecute

their vengeance.

They were considered as cruel masters, who were appeased with

supplications and allowed themselves to be bribed with presents. All

were feeble in comparison with Moloch the Devourer. The existence, the

very flesh of men, belonged to him; and hence in order to preserve it,

the Carthaginians used to offer up a portion of it to him, which calmed

his fury. Children were burned on the forehead, or on the nape of the

neck, with woollen wicks; and as this mode of satisfying Baal brought

in much money to the priests, they failed not to recommend it as being

easier and more pleasant.

This time, however, the Republic itself was at stake. But as every

profit must be purchased by some loss, and as every transaction was

regulated according to the needs of the weaker and the demands of the

stronger, there was no pain great enough for the god, since he delighted

in such as was of the most horrible description, and all were now at his

mercy. He must accordingly be fully gratified. Precedents showed that

in this way the scourge would be made to disappear. Moreover, it was

believed that an immolation by fire would purify Carthage. The ferocity

of the people was predisposed towards it. The choice, too, must fall

exclusively upon the families of the great.

The Ancients assembled. The sitting was a long one. Hanno had come to

it. As he was now unable to sit he remained lying down near the door,

half hidden among the fringes of the lofty tapestry; and when the

pontiff of Moloch asked them whether they would consent to surrender

their children, his voice suddenly broke forth from the shadow like the

roaring of a genius in the depths of a cavern. He regretted, he said,

that he had none of his own blood to give; and he gazed at Hamilcar,

who faced him at the other end of the hall. The Suffet was so much

disconcerted by this look that it made him lower his eyes. All

successively bent their heads in approval; and in accordance with the

rites he had to reply to the high priest: “Yes; be it so.” Then the

Ancients decreed the sacrifice in traditional circumlocution,—because

there are things more troublesome to say than to perform.

The decision was almost immediately known in Carthage, and lamentations

resounded. The cries of women might everywhere be heard; their husbands

consoled them, or railed at them with remonstrances.

But three hours afterwards extraordinary tidings were spread abroad: the

Suffet had discovered springs at the foot of the cliff. There was a rush

to the place. Water might be seen in holes dug in the sand, and some

were already lying flat on the ground and drinking.

Hamilcar did not himself know whether it was by the determination of the

gods or through the vague recollection of a revelation which his father

had once made to him; but on leaving the Ancients he had gone down to

the shore and had begun to dig the gravel with his slaves.

He gave clothing, boots, and wine. He gave all the rest of the corn that

he was keeping by him. He even let the crowd enter his palace, and

he opened kitchens, stores, and all the rooms,—Salammbô’s alone

excepted. He announced that six thousand Gaulish Mercenaries were

coming, and that the king of Macedonia was sending soldiers.

But on the second day the springs diminished, and on the evening of the

third they were completely dried up. Then the decree of the Ancients

passed everywhere from lip to lip, and the priests of Moloch began their

task.

Men in black robes presented themselves in the houses. In many instances

the owners had deserted them under pretence of some business, or of some

dainty that they were going to buy; and the servants of Moloch came and

took the children away. Others themselves surrendered them stupidly.

Then they were brought to the temple of Tanith, where the priestesses

were charged with their amusement and support until the solemn day.

They visited Hamilcar suddenly and found him in his gardens.

“Barca! we come for that that you know of—your son!” They added

that some people had met him one evening during the previous moon in the

centre of the Mappalian district being led by an old man.

He was as though suffocated at first. But speedily understanding that

any denial would be in vain, Hamilcar bowed; and he brought them into

the commercial house. Some slaves who had run up at a sign kept watch

all round about it.

He entered Salammbô’s room in a state of distraction. He seized

Hannibal with one hand, snatched up the cord of a trailing garment with

the other, tied his feet and hands with it, thrust the end into his

mouth to form a gag, and hid him under the bed of the ox-hides by

letting an ample drapery fall to the ground.

Afterwards he walked about from right to left, raised his arms, wheeled

round, bit his lips. Then he stood still with staring eyelids, and

panted as though he were about to die.

But he clapped his hands three times. Giddenem appeared.

“Listen!” he said, “go and take from among the slaves a male child

from eight to nine years of age, with black hair and swelling forehead!

Bring him here! make haste!”

Giddenem soon entered again, bringing forward a young boy.

He was a miserable child, at once lean and bloated; his skin looked

greyish, like the infected rag hanging to his sides; his head was sunk

between his shoulders, and with the back of his hand he was rubbing his

eyes, which were filled with flies.

How could he ever be confounded with Hannibal! and there was no time

to choose another. Hamilcar looked at Giddenem; he felt inclined to

strangle him.

“Begone!” he cried; and the master of the slaves fled.

The misfortune which he had so long dreaded was therefore come, and with

extravagant efforts he strove to discover whether there was not some

mode, some means to escape it.

Abdalonim suddenly spoke from behind the door. The Suffet was being

asked for. The servants of Moloch were growing impatient.

Hamilcar repressed a cry as though a red hot iron had burnt him; and

he began anew to pace the room like one distraught. Then he sank down

beside the balustrade, and, with his elbows on his knees, pressed his

forehead into his shut fists.

The porphyry basin still contained a little clear water for

Salammbô’s ablutions. In spite of his repugnance and all his pride,

the Suffet dipped the child into it, and, like a slave merchant, began

to wash him and rub him with strigils and red earth. Then he took two

purple squares from the receptacles round the wall, placed one on his

breast and the other on his back, and joined them together on the collar

bones with two diamond clasps. He poured perfume upon his head, passed

an electrum necklace around his neck, and put on him sandals with heels

of pearl,—sandals belonging to his own daughter! But he stamped with

shame and vexation; Salammbô, who busied herself in helping him, was

as pale as he. The child, dazzled by such splendour, smiled and, growing

bold even, was beginning to clap his hands and jump, when Hamilcar took

him away.

He held him firmly by the arm as though he were afraid of losing him,

and the child, who was hurt, wept a little as he ran beside him.

When on a level with the ergastulum, under a palm tree, a voice was

raised, a mournful and supplicant voice. It murmured: “Master! oh!

master!”

Hamilcar turned and beside him perceived a man of abject appearance, one

of the wretches who led a haphazard existence in the household.

“What do you want?” said the Suffet.

The slave, who trembled horribly, stammered:

“I am his father!”

Hamilcar walked on; the other followed him with stooping loins, bent

hams, and head thrust forward. His face was convulsed with unspeakable

anguish, and he was choking with suppressed sobs, so eager was he at

once to question him, and to cry: “Mercy!”

At last he ventured to touch him lightly with one finger on the elbow.

“Are you going to—?” He had not the strength to finish, and

Hamilcar stopped quite amazed at such grief.

He had never thought—so immense was the abyss separating them from

each other—that there could be anything in common between them. It

even appeared to him a sort of outrage, an encroachment upon his

own privileges. He replied with a look colder and heavier than an

executioner’s axe; the slave swooned and fell in the dust at his feet.

Hamilcar strode across him.

The three black-robed men were waiting in the great hall, and standing

against the stone disc. Immediately he tore his garments, and rolled

upon the pavement uttering piercing cries.

“Ah! poor little Hannibal! Oh! my son! my consolation! my hope! my

life! Kill me also! take me away! Woe! Woe!” He ploughed his face with

his nails, tore out his hair, and shrieked like the women who lament at

funerals. “Take him away then! my suffering is too great! begone! kill

me like him!” The servants of Moloch were astonished that the great

Hamilcar was so weak-spirited. They were almost moved by it.

A noise of naked feet became audible, with a broken throat-rattling like

the breathing of a wild beast speeding along, and a man, pale, terrible,

and with outspread arms appeared on the threshold of the third gallery,

between the ivory pots; he exclaimed:

“My child!”

Hamilcar threw himself with a bound upon the slave, and covering the

man’s mouth with his hand exclaimed still more loudly:

“It is the old man who reared him! he calls him ‘my child!’

it will make him mad! enough! enough!” And hustling away the three

priests and their victim he went out with them and with a great kick

shut the door behind him.

Hamilcar strained his ears for some minutes in constant fear of seeing

them return. He then thought of getting rid of the slave in order to

be quite sure that he would see nothing; but the peril had not wholly

disappeared, and, if the gods were provoked at the man’s death, it

might be turned against his son. Then, changing his intention, he sent

him by Taanach the best from his kitchens—a quarter of a goat, beans,

and preserved pomegranates. The slave, who had eaten nothing for a long

time, rushed upon them; his tears fell into the dishes.

Hamilcar at last returned to Salammbô, and unfastened Hannibal’s

cords. The child in exasperation bit his hand until the blood came. He

repelled him with a caress.

To make him remain quiet Salammbô tried to frighten him with Lamia, a

Cyrenian ogress.

“But where is she?” he asked.

He was told that brigands were coming to put him into prison. “Let

them come,” he rejoined, “and I will kill them!”

Then Hamilcar told him the frightful truth. But he fell into a passion

with his father, contending that he was quite able to annihilate the

whole people, since he was the master of Carthage.

At last, exhausted by his exertions and anger, he fell into a wild

sleep. He spoke in his dreams, his back leaning against a scarlet

cushion; his head was thrown back somewhat, and his little arm,

outstretched from his body, lay quite straight in an attitude of

command.

When the night had grown dark Hamilcar lifted him up gently, and,

without a torch, went down the galley staircase. As he passed through

the mercantile house he took up a basket of grapes and a flagon of pure

water; the child awoke before the statue of Aletes in the vault of gems,

and he smiled—like the other—on his father’s arm at the brilliant

lights which surrounded him.

Hamilcar felt quite sure that his son could not be taken from him. It

was an impenetrable spot communicating with the beach by a subterranean

passage which he alone knew, and casting his eyes around he inhaled

a great draught of air. Then he set him down upon a stool beside some

golden shields. No one at present could see him; he had no further need

for watching; and he relieved his feelings. Like a mother finding her

first-born that was lost, he threw himself upon his son; he clasped him

to his breast, he laughed and wept at the same time, he called him

by the fondest names and covered him with kisses; little Hannibal was

frightened by this terrible tenderness and was silent now.

Hamilcar returned with silent steps, feeling the walls around him, and

came into the great hall where the moonlight entered through one of the

apertures in the dome; in the centre the slave lay sleeping after his

repast, stretched at full length upon the marble pavement. He looked at

him and was moved with a sort of pity. With the tip of his cothurn he

pushed forward a carpet beneath his head. Then he raised his eyes and

gazed at Tanith, whose slender crescent was shining in the sky, and felt

himself stronger than the Baals and full of contempt for them.

The arrangements for the sacrifice were already begun.

Part of a wall in the temple of Moloch was thrown down in order to draw

out the brazen god without touching the ashes of the altar. Then as

soon as the sun appeared the hierodules pushed it towards the square of

Khamon.

It moved backwards sliding upon cylinders; its shoulders overlapped the

walls. No sooner did the Carthaginians perceive it in the distance than

they speedily took to flight, for the Baal could be looked upon with

impunity only when exercising his wrath.

A smell of aromatics spread through the streets. All the temples

had just been opened simultaneously, and from them there came forth

tabernacles borne upon chariots, or upon litters carried by the

pontiffs. Great plumes swayed at the corners of them, and rays were

emitted from their slender pinnacles which terminated in balls of

crystal, gold, silver or copper.

These were the Chanaanitish Baalim, offshoots of the supreme Baal, who

were returning to their first cause to humble themselves before his

might and annihilate themselves in his splendour.

Melkarth’s pavilion, which was of fine purple, sheltered a petroleum

flare; on Khamon’s, which was of hyacinth colour, there rose an ivory

phallus bordered with a circle of gems; between Eschmoun’s curtains,

which were as blue as the ether, a sleeping python formed a circle with

his tail, and the Patæc gods, held in the arms of their priests, looked

like great infants in swaddling clothes with their heels touching the

ground.

Then came all the inferior forms of the Divinity: Baal-Samin, god of

celestial space; Baal-Peor, god of the sacred mountains; Baal-Zeboub,

god of corruption, with those of the neighbouring countries and

congenerous races: the Iarbal of Libya, the Adramelech of Chaldæa, the

Kijun of the Syrians; Derceto, with her virgin’s face, crept on

her fins, and the corpse of Tammouz was drawn along in the midst of a

catafalque among torches and heads of hair. In order to subdue the kings

of the firmament to the Sun, and prevent their particular influences

from disturbing his, diversely coloured metal stars were brandished

at the end of long poles; and all were there, from the dark Neblo, the

genius of Mercury, to the hideous Rahab, which is the constellation of

the Crocodile. The Abbadirs, stones which had fallen from the moon, were

whirling in slings of silver thread; little loaves, representing the

female form, were born on baskets by the priests of Ceres; others

brought their fetishes and amulets; forgotten idols reappeared, while

the mystic symbols had been taken from the very ships as though Carthage

wished to concentrate herself wholly upon a single thought of death and

desolation.

Before each tabernacle a man balanced a large vase of smoking incense on

his head. Clouds hovered here and there, and the hangings, pendants,

and embroideries of the sacred pavilions might be distinguished amid

the thick vapours. These advanced slowly owing to their enormous weight.

Sometimes the axles became fast in the streets; then the pious took

advantage of the opportunity to touch the Baalim with their garments,

which they preserved afterwards as holy things.

The brazen statue continued to advance towards the square of Khamon. The

rich, carrying sceptres with emerald balls, set out from the bottom

of Megara; the Ancients, with diadems on their heads, had assembled in

Kinisdo, and masters of the finances, governors of provinces, sailors,

and the numerous horde employed at funerals, all with the insignia of

their magistracies or the instruments of their calling, were making

their way towards the tabernacles which were descending from the

Acropolis between the colleges of the pontiffs.

Out of deference to Moloch they had adorned themselves with the most

splendid jewels. Diamonds sparkled on their black garments; but their

rings were too large and fell from their wasted hands,—nor could

there have been anything so mournful as this silent crowd where earrings

tapped against pale faces, and gold tiaras clasped brows contracted with

stern despair.

At last the Baal arrived exactly in the centre of the square. His

pontiffs arranged an enclosure with trellis-work to keep off the

multitude, and remained around him at his feet.

The priests of Khamon, in tawny woollen robes, formed a line before

their temple beneath the columns of the portico; those of Eschmoun, in

linen mantles with necklaces of koukouphas’ heads and pointed

tiaras, posted themselves on the steps of the Acropolis; the priests of

Melkarth, in violet tunics, took the western side; the priests of the

Abbadirs, clasped with bands of Phrygian stuffs, placed themselves on

the east, while towards the south, with the necromancers all covered

with tattooings, and the shriekers in patched cloaks, were ranged the

curates of the Patæc gods, and the Yidonim, who put the bone of a dead

man into their mouths to learn the future. The priests of Ceres, who

were dressed in blue robes, had prudently stopped in the street of

Satheb, and in low tones were chanting a thesmophorion in the Megarian

dialect.

From time to time files of men arrived, completely naked, their arms

outstretched, and all holding one another by the shoulders. From

the depths of their breasts they drew forth a hoarse and cavernous

intonation; their eyes, which were fastened upon the colossus, shone

through the dust, and they swayed their bodies simultaneously, and at

equal distances, as though they were all affected by a single movement.

They were so frenzied that to restore order the hierodules compelled

them, with blows of the stick, to lie flat upon the ground, with their

faces resting against the brass trellis-work.

Then it was that a man in a white robe advanced from the back of the

square. He penetrated the crowd slowly, and people recognised a priest

of Tanith—the high-priest Schahabarim. Hootings were raised, for the

tyranny of the male principle prevailed that day in all consciences, and

the goddess was actually so completely forgotten that the absence of her

pontiffs had not been noticed. But the amazement was increased when he

was seen to open one of the doors of the trellis-work intended for

those who intended to offer up victims. It was an outrage to their god,

thought the priests of Moloch, that he had just committed, and they

sought with eager gestures to repel him. Fed on the meat of the

holocausts, clad in purple like kings, and wearing triple-storied

crowns, they despised the pale eunuch, weakened with his macerations,

and angry laughter shook their black beards, which were displayed on

their breasts in the sun.

Schahabarim walked on, giving no reply, and, traversing the whole

enclosure with deliberation, reached the legs of the colossus; then,

spreading out both arms, he touched it on both sides, which was a solemn

form of adoration. For a long time Rabbet had been torturing him, and

in despair, or perhaps for lack of a god that completely satisfied his

ideas, he had at last decided for this one.

The crowd, terrified by this act of apostasy, uttered a lengthened

murmur. It was felt that the last tie which bound their souls to a

merciful divinity was breaking.

But owing to his mutilation, Schahabarim could take no part in the cult

of the Baal. The men in the red cloaks shut him out from the enclosure;

then, when he was outside, he went round all the colleges in succession,

and the priest, henceforth without a god, disappeared into the crowd. It

scattered at his approach.

Meanwhile a fire of aloes, cedar, and laurel was burning between the

legs of the colossus. The tips of its long wings dipped into the flame;

the unguents with which it had been rubbed flowed like sweat over its

brazen limbs. Around the circular flagstone on which its feet rested,

the children, wrapped in black veils, formed a motionless circle; and

its extravagantly long arms reached down their palms to them as though

to seize the crown that they formed and carry it to the sky.

The rich, the Ancients, the women, the whole multitude, thronged behind

the priests and on the terraces of the houses. The large painted stars

revolved no longer; the tabernacles were set upon the ground; and the

fumes from the censers ascended perpendicularly, spreading their bluish

branches through the azure like gigantic trees.

Many fainted; others became inert and petrified in their ecstasy.

Infinite anguish weighed upon the breasts of the beholders. The

last shouts died out one by one,—and the people of Carthage stood

breathless, and absorbed in the longing of their terror.

At last the high priest of Moloch passed his left hand beneath the

children’s veils, plucked a lock of hair from their foreheads, and

threw it upon the flames. Then the men in the red cloaks chanted the

sacred hymn:

“Homage to thee, Sun! king of the two zones, self-generating Creator,

Father and Mother, Father and Son, God and Goddess, Goddess and God!”

And their voices were lost in the outburst of instruments sounding

simultaneously to drown the cries of the victims. The eight-stringed

scheminiths, the kinnors which had ten strings, and the nebals which

had twelve, grated, whistled, and thundered. Enormous leathern bags,

bristling with pipes, made a shrill clashing noise; the tabourines,

beaten with all the players’ might, resounded with heavy, rapid blows;

and, in spite of the fury of the clarions, the salsalim snapped like

grasshoppers’ wings.

The hierodules, with a long hook, opened the seven-storied compartments

on the body of the Baal. They put meal into the highest, two

turtle-doves into the second, an ape into the third, a ram into the

fourth, a sheep into the fifth, and as no ox was to be had for the

sixth, a tawny hide taken from the sanctuary was thrown into it. The

seventh compartment yawned empty still.

Before undertaking anything it was well to make trial of the arms of the

god. Slender chainlets stretched from his fingers up to his shoulders

and fell behind, where men by pulling them made the two hands rise to a

level with the elbows, and come close together against the belly; they

were moved several times in succession with little abrupt jerks. Then

the instruments were still. The fire roared.

The pontiffs of Moloch walked about on the great flagstone scanning the

multitude.

An individual sacrifice was necessary, a perfectly voluntary oblation,

which was considered as carrying the others along with it. But no one

had appeared up to the present, and the seven passages leading from the

barriers to the colossus were completely empty. Then the priests, to

encourage the people, drew bodkins from their girdles and gashed their

faces. The Devotees, who were stretched on the ground outside, were

brought within the enclosure. A bundle of horrible irons was thrown to

them, and each chose his own torture. They drove in spits between their

breasts; they split their cheeks; they put crowns of thorns upon their

heads; then they twined their arms together, and surrounded the children

in another large circle which widened and contracted in turns. They

reached to the balustrade, they threw themselves back again, and then

began once more, attracting the crowd to them by the dizziness of their

motion with its accompanying blood and shrieks.

By degrees people came into the end of the passages; they flung into

the flames pearls, gold vases, cups, torches, all their wealth; the

offerings became constantly more numerous and more splendid. At last a

man who tottered, a man pale and hideous with terror, thrust forward

a child; then a little black mass was seen between the hands of the

colossus, and sank into the dark opening. The priests bent over the edge

of the great flagstone,—and a new song burst forth celebrating the

joys of death and of new birth into eternity.

The children ascended slowly, and as the smoke formed lofty eddies as

it escaped, they seemed at a distance to disappear in a cloud. Not

one stirred. Their wrists and ankles were tied, and the dark drapery

prevented them from seeing anything and from being recognised.

Hamilcar, in a red cloak, like the priests of Moloch, was beside the

Baal, standing upright in front of the great toe of its right foot. When

the fourteenth child was brought every one could see him make a great

gesture of horror. But he soon resumed his former attitude, folded his

arms, and looked upon the ground. The high pontiff stood on the other

side of the statue as motionless as he. His head, laden with an Assyrian

mitre, was bent, and he was watching the gold plate on his breast; it

was covered with fatidical stones, and the flame mirrored in it formed

irisated lights. He grew pale and dismayed. Hamilcar bent his brow; and

they were both so near the funeral-pile that the hems of their cloaks

brushed it as they rose from time to time.

The brazen arms were working more quickly. They paused no longer. Every

time that a child was placed in them the priests of Moloch spread

out their hands upon him to burden him with the crimes of the people,

vociferating: “They are not men but oxen!” and the multitude round

about repeated: “Oxen! oxen!” The devout exclaimed: “Lord! eat!”

and the priests of Proserpine, complying through terror with the needs

of Carthage, muttered the Eleusinian formula: “Pour out rain! bring

forth!”

The victims, when scarcely at the edge of the opening, disappeared like

a drop of water on a red-hot plate, and white smoke rose amid the great

scarlet colour.

Nevertheless, the appetite of the god was not appeased. He ever wished

for more. In order to furnish him with a larger supply, the victims were

piled up on his hands with a big chain above them which kept them in

their place. Some devout persons had at the beginning wished to count

them, to see whether their number corresponded with the days of

the solar year; but others were brought, and it was impossible to

distinguish them in the giddy motion of the horrible arms. This lasted

for a long, indefinite time until the evening. Then the partitions

inside assumed a darker glow, and burning flesh could be seen. Some even

believed that they could descry hair, limbs, and whole bodies.

Night fell; clouds accumulated above the Baal. The funeral-pile, which

was flameless now, formed a pyramid of coals up to his knees; completely

red like a giant covered with blood, he looked, with his head

thrown back, as though he were staggering beneath the weight of his

intoxication.

In proportion as the priests made haste, the frenzy of the people

increased; as the number of the victims was diminishing, some cried

out to spare them, others that still more were needful. The walls, with

their burden of people, seemed to be giving way beneath the howlings

of terror and mystic voluptuousness. Then the faithful came into the

passages, dragging their children, who clung to them; and they beat them

in order to make them let go, and handed them over to the men in red.

The instrument-players sometimes stopped through exhaustion; then the

cries of the mothers might be heard, and the frizzling of the fat as it

fell upon the coals. The henbane-drinkers crawled on all fours around

the colossus, roaring like tigers; the Yidonim vaticinated, the Devotees

sang with their cloven lips; the trellis-work had been broken through,

all wished for a share in the sacrifice;—and fathers, whose children

had died previously, cast their effigies, their playthings, their

preserved bones into the fire. Some who had knives rushed upon the rest.

They slaughtered one another. The hierodules took the fallen ashes at

the edge of the flagstone in bronze fans, and cast them into the air

that the sacrifice might be scattered over the town and even to the

region of the stars.

The loud noise and great light had attracted the Barbarians to the foot

of the walls; they clung to the wreck of the helepolis to have a better

view, and gazed open-mouthed in horror.