Numantia stood upon a lofty rock, and its inhabitants displayed a courage worthy of its high position. The river Durius (now the Douro) washed its feet; there were forests on either hand; while the mounds and ditches abounding in the vale before it, rendered any attempt to approach it in the front almost unavailable. Scipio Africanus soon perceived the hopelessness of succeeding by a direct attack, and he proceeded, therefore, to raise round the place a double stockade, to prevent any aid in the form of a stock of provisions being carried into it. He impeded the navigation of the river by throwing across it large beams, perforated with swords, which, revolving with the tide, cut off all communication by means of water.
Notwithstanding all the precautions that had been taken, a party of about half-a-dozen young men, having slipped through the lines--and very hard lines they were--succeeded in reaching the town of Lutia. The head of the party, holding an olive-branch, begged for assistance with such effect, that the Lutians offered to lend him a hand in his terrible emergency. Scipio, who had been in pursuit, no sooner heard of the Lutians having offered to lend a hand, than he savagely declared that they should have no hands to spare, and he barbarously ordered the cutting off of the hands of four hundred citizens.
The Numantines being completely hemmed in, were unable to obtain provisions; but though reduced at last to eat cats, they became only the more dogged in their resistance to the enemy. Eventually, they begged for a truce of three days, which they employed in destroying their wives and children--a species of heroism not easily understood; for to kill those who are dear, by way of protecting them, is a mode of insurance of which we must dispute the policy. The men were so sadly dispirited, and so fearfully cut up by their own or each other's swords, that the conquerors had only a remnant to take, in the shape of population, when they entered the city.
In conformity with the custom of the period, Scipio Africanus Minor, whose atrocities, in connexion with the siege of Numantia, have branded his name for ever with disgrace, proceeded to make arrangements for a triumph. Instead of feeling a decent shame, he manifested a most unbecoming pride in what he had done; and to identify himself more completely with the horrors of the siege, he took the name of Numantinus. So thoroughly had starvation done its work, that of the few citizens who were found alive, only fifty were in sufficiently good condition to appear in the show got up in celebration of his dishonourable victory.