The Comic History of Rome

In the spring of the next year, the Consul, C. Flaminius, was sent to Ariminum with an army, and Hannibal started for Etruria. This expedition – if expedition is the proper term for an affair so extremely slow – lasted three days and three nights; the soldiers proceeding through marsh and morass, through thick and thin, to the end of their journey. The Spaniards went first, who picked their way, followed by the Gauls, who stuck in the mud, and were spurred on by the swords of the Numidians, who followed. All the horses were knocked up, and Hannibal, to whom all the glory of the march has been given, endured the least of the fatigue, for, while the common soldiers were wading through the mud, their chief was elevated on the back of the only surviving elephant.

The advantages of a high position were, in this instance, strikingly exemplified, for if Hannibal had moved in the humbler walks on this occasion, the probability is, that he could not have walked at all; but that, sinking in the marshes, he would have gone down – in a swamp – to posterity. He, himself, lost the use of one of his eyes, though, indeed, he exhibited throughout this disastrous affair an unusual amount of shortsightedness. After reaching Fæsulæ, now Fiesole, near Florence, he made for Rome, and Flaminius made after him as far as Cortona; but Hannibal, turning sharp round the corner of the Lake Trasimenus; ran unperceived up the heights, getting round to the rear of the Roman general, who thought the foe was still in front of him. While Flaminius was pressing forward, Hannibal and his forces fell upon him right and left, as well as behind, and a fog coming on at the time added to the perplexity of the Consul, by preventing him from seeing his danger. A fight in a fog is one of the most dismal pictures that can be described, if, indeed, it can be called a picture at all, when nothing can be seen, and the whole is a mere daub, caused by a fearful brush between two conflicting armies. Such was the fury of the fight, that it is said an earthquake, which happened at the time, was unperceived by the combatants; and, indeed, so shocking was the carnage, that a shock of nature might have sunk by its side into comparative insignificance. 15,000 Romans were slain, and those who are always ready to prophecy after an event, began to see clearly in certain omens that had happened some time before, the cause of all that had lately happened.

A shower of stones had fallen at Picenum, but it does not appear whether those who told the story of the stones had a hand in throwing them. In Gaul a wolf had swallowed the sword of a sentinel; and in Cœre the answers of the oracle were suddenly written in smaller characters – a proof only that the oracle had got from text into round-hand – the ordinary result of improved penmanship.

The battle had undoubtedly been fearful in its results, for Flaminius himself was slain; and 15,000 Romans having been cut to pieces, were thrown into a brook, which still bears the name of Sanguinetta, from its being turned into the colour of blood, though the statement is too extravagant to have the colour of probability. The horrors of the war were great enough without the aid of exaggeration, and though the instances of suffering were no doubt great, we are inclined to doubt the story, that the Numidians went without their allowance of wine, in order to wash the feet of their horses; for, though the animals might have been unable to do without their hock, they could surely have dispensed with their Falernian.

On the news of Hannibal's victory reaching Rome, the prætor announced the distressing circumstance to a numerous meeting of the people, who, in the absence of the Consul, took upon themselves to appoint a dictator. Q. Fabius Maximus was chosen, and the mastership of the horse was conferred on M. Minucius. Hannibal was expected at Rome, but, like a wise general, he defeated general expectation, and proceeded to Spoletum, a Roman colony, which he hoped would have held out great advantages; but it held out with great spirit against him. Wishing to avoid the inconvenience of a siege, and of sitting down before the city with nothing but a marsh to sit down upon, he marched into Picenum, which contained abundance of everything necessary for the support of his army. His soldiers were afflicted at this time with a cutaneous disease, and, though this annoyance was only skin-deep, he feared a general breaking-out, if he had detained them against their will in an unhealthy country. From Picenum he passed into Apulia; and though he was disappointed in the hope that the inhabitants would join him, they were too weak to resist, and he turned every Italian city into an Italian warehouse for the supply of the comestibles he required. The dictator Fabius followed at a short distance, but always taking the high ground, by hovering about the hills and keeping the upper hand of Hannibal.

His intention was to proceed to Casinum, but by some stupid misunderstanding, the general led the way to Casilinum, and the result was, that Fabius got ahead of him. On the mistake being discovered by Hannibal, he got 2000 oxen – but where he got them from does not exactly appear – and, having procured several thousand bundles of wood, he tied them to the horns of the animals. Having set the wood on fire, he turned the oxen out among the Romans, whose quarters soon were thrown into the sort of confusion prevalent in a London thoroughfare on a Smithfield market-day. In order to inflame the oxen, their horns had been covered over with pitch, which gave them an inclination to toss, and the poor creatures were running about in all directions, under the influence of fear and fury. Fabius is said to have mistaken the cattle for the Carthaginians, and to have rushed forwards, sword in hand, resolved on butchery. The Romans were thus drawn out of their favourable position, and Hannibal slipped into it, leaving the bulls to decide by a toss-up, if they pleased, the chances of victory over their aggressors. On the mistake being discovered by Fabius, he backed out as well as he could, and ventured on a few skirmishes, in which he met with some success, but he continued his policy of trying to tire out the enemy.

The plan he adopted was to continue always in an imposing attitude but to be ready to slip away, so that, when his antagonist gathered up his strength to make a hit, the force was always expended on vacancy. The Romans grew extremely impatient of a series of tactics which showed no immediate result; and Fabius, having occasion to return to Rome, was insulted by having the epithet of Cunctator, the dawdler, or the slow-coach, applied to him. One of the tribunes even went so far as to charge him with treachery; to which he made, what is usually called, the "noble" reply, "Fabius cannot be suspected."

It seems to have been extremely easy to get a reputation for "noble" replies among the Romans, since the mere denial of a charge, amounting to the commonplace plea of "not guilty," is frequently cited by the historians as a noble reply, because an individual in a toga happens to have uttered it. For the purpose of annoying Fabius, or the "slow coach," the people conferred on Minucius, who, for the sake of distinction, may be appropriately termed the "fast man," an equal share of power with the dictator himself, and half the command of the army. On the return of Fabius to the camp, Minucius proposed that they should command on alternate days, a course that would have been extremely inconvenient; for if Minucius had ordered the army to take a week's march, it is possible that on the day ensuing, Fabius would have ordered the army back again. The latter, therefore, proposed that each should take a separate half; but an army, like a house, cannot be divided without weakness being the inevitable consequence. The ill effects of the separation were soon shown; for Minucius, who was hot and hasty, was soon provoked by Hannibal to make an attack, and the Carthaginian general, who had been accustomed to talk of the Romans hanging over him like a cloud, declared that they had now come down upon him in a weak and watery shower. Minucius and his army would certainly have been absorbed, or, to use a more powerful figure, they would have been effectually wiped out, but for the generous intervention of Fabius. The latter saved the former from destruction, when Minucius, who was no less mawkish than rash, followed up the allegory of the rain by bursting into tears, and throwing himself on the neck, as well as on the generosity, of Fabius. Minucius resigned the dictatorship into the hands of his colleague, who leisurely wound up the campaign; and having resigned his power, has to this day reigned supreme as the example of the slow-and-sure principle in the theme of every schoolboy.

Hannibal was now beginning to feel the effects of the policy of delay, for he was getting out of heart, and was terribly out of pocket. The harvest had been all gathered in before he could lay his hands upon it; and he felt it would be idle to take the field, unless he could take the corn that had grown in it. His army was clamorous for food; and complaint is never so open-mouthed as when hunger is at the bottom of it. The Romans began to think the time had arrived for a decisive blow, and had chosen as one of the Consuls of the year an individual named C. T. Varro, whom Livy has described as an eloquent meat salesman.51 He had been in the habit of going from door to door in the service of his father, collecting orders for meat in the morning, and taking it round in the afternoon; but he was determined that his voice should be heard in something more impressive than a cry of "butcher," at the door-ways of the citizens. His first flights of eloquence were in the market-place, where he interlarded his ordinary exclamations of "Buy, buy," with sarcastic inquiries how long the people would consent to be sold by those who professed to be their friends and rulers. By degrees, he quitted the shambles for the platform, and he began attending public meetings as a professional demagogue. Like those who pursue patriotism as a trade, he accepted the first offer of a place that was made to him; and he became in succession a quæstor, an ædile, and a prætor. At length he was elevated to the consulship, or rather the consulship was lowered to him; for though the name of Varro became afterwards truly illustrious, we cannot allow to C. T. the title of respectable. His colleague, as Consul, was L. Æmilius Paulus, a patrician, who is said to have cherished a profound hatred of the people; but why he is said to have done anything of the sort – except it is in slavish subjection to the old prejudice, according to which all the patricians are supposed to hate all the people – we are at a loss to discover. The two Consuls were at daggers drawn between themselves, which prevented them from agreeing as to the proper time for drawing the sword against the enemy. C. T. Varro, the ex-butcher, was for cutting and slashing at the Carthaginians off-hand; but Æmilius Paulus, having consulted a poulterer, declared the sacred chickens to have lost their appetites, which some considered a foul pretext, and others a fair excuse, for avoiding a battle. The Consuls had, however, set out with 80,000 foot, and 6000 horse, which were encamped on the river Aufidus; their stores being packed up in baskets and cans at the little town of Cannæ. Hannibal, who was completely out of elephants – there being not even one left for the saddle for his own especial use – was compelled to ride the high horse – the highest he could find among his cavalry – as a substitute. He took Cannæ under the very eyes and Roman noses of the consuls, one of whom, Varro, would have fought, but Æmilius Paulus, the other, had taken the sacred chickens so much to heart, that he had not courage for anything.

At length, on the 2nd of August, Hannibal, whose pockets were empty of cash, and whose baggage was bare of provisions, determined to provoke the Romans to a battle. Had the policy of Fabius Cunctator, "slow coach," been pursued at this stage, the defeat of the Carthaginians was certain, for they were an army of mercenaries without pay, and in ten days there would not have been a bone for the dogs of war to feed upon. Hannibal, who had always much tact in discovering which way the wind blew, was taking a walk in the morning, when his eyes getting suddenly filled with dust, caused him to see a point that had hitherto escaped him. It occurred to him at once that, by placing his army with its back to the wind, the Romans who faced him would have to face a blow which might prove very embarrassing. He knew that the dust would set the Romans rubbing their eyes, or even if they did not raise a hand against the inconvenience, they would, at all events, be compelled to wink at it. In order to increase the annoyance, he ordered the ground to be thoroughly well ploughed, and though he had not the advantage of shot, he found the dust a very good substitute for powder. He had placed the Gauls in the middle, supported by Africans on each side, and the Romans having first attacked the centre, which gave way, were enclosed between the two wings; a position in which they were so hard pressed, that they could not get out of the claws of the enemy.

The slaughter was, as usual, tremendous, 45,000 being left dead on the field, or rather, in conformity with the excess of caution used in those days to prevent the return of an adversary to life, being "cut to pieces." Æmilius Paulus, the patrician, who had been reluctant to fight, was killed while boldly combating with his sword in his hand, but Varro, the patriotic butcher, who had been all ardour and enthusiasm to strike the decisive blow, ran off as fast as his horse's heels could carry him. He reached Rome in safety, and such a perfect master was he of the demagogue's art, that he succeeded in obtaining the thanks of the Senate for his services. It was true that he had shown boldness, amounting to rashness, when the security of the army was at stake, and he had exhibited caution amounting to cowardice, in taking care of himself, by running away when the battle was lost; but he had got the character of the "people's friend," and the people are often a long time in finding out, and casting off, those who are in the habit of duping them.

Among other instances of gross popular delusion which occurred about this time, was the sending of Fabius Pictor as ambassador to Delphi, to consult the Oracle. Fabius was the historian of his age, and was supposed, therefore, qualified to record all sorts of falsehood; for history in those early days had not been dignified by that conscientious accuracy which is in our own time indispensable. His second name of Pictor was acquired rather by his industry as a house-painter, than by his talent as an artist, for he had done the whole of the painting of the Temple of the Goddess of Health; and he probably devoted himself rather to the pound-brush than the pencil. As a writer of history, there was something of the painter in his labours; but he was unfortunately in the habit of employing very false colours. On his return from Delphi, the public seemed to have derived very little instruction from his journey; for the sacrifice of two pairs of human beings, a male and female Greek, and a male and female Gaul, was the principal result of the information he brought home with him.

As it may be interesting to the student to be told how the Oracle was worked in those days, we furnish a few particulars. The office for making inquiries of the Delphic Oracle was in the Temple – dedicated to Apollo – where a fire was continually burning, fed with the wood of laurels, which typifies the ever-greenness that deception lives upon. In the centre of the Temple was a small opening which emitted intoxicating smoke, and, as the Pythia sat immediately above it, she was rapidly reduced to a state in which she fell on the floor and uttered incoherent sounds, which were said to be inspired. A prophet was in attendance to write down the pith of what the Pythia was supposed to say, and the purport of these drunken ravings was accepted by nations and individuals as a guide to their conduct in cases of the most serious interest.

Originally the Pythia was always a young girl, but, subsequently, a law was passed, limiting the office to those who had passed their fiftieth year; and there is no doubt that intoxication being the chief duty, rendered the place peculiarly eligible to the old women. At first there had been only one female employed, but when the business increased, a second, and subsequently a third, was appointed, so that there might always be one at hand to perform the duty, while the other was drunk and incapable. Of course, a fee was exacted from all who came to consult the Oracle, which was entirely in the hands of a few aristocratic families of the place, who made a double profit, by taking money, and giving only such advice as was calculated to promote their own class interests.

CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH.

CONCLUSION OF THE SECOND PUNIC WAR

Hannibal was now strongly urged by one Maharbal, the commander of the cavalry, to march against Rome, and the gallant general went so far as to promise that if he had permission, he would go and take it so easy, that in five days they might sleep in the Capitol. "The idea is indeed a good one," said Hannibal, with an incredulous smile, "but the only objection to its being carried out, is that it's utterly impossible." Maharbal persevered in his recommendation; but finding his advice rejected, he grew sententious and sentimental, which is often the effect of a snubbing. "Alas!" he exclaimed, with that anti-colloquial style of expression, which characters in history – but not in real life – are so fond of assuming, – "Alas! thou knowest how to gain a victory, but thou knowest not how thou oughtest to use thy victory when thou hast gained it." If this was the ordinary mode in which Maharbal expressed himself, it is not surprising that Hannibal preferred his deeds to his words, the use of his sword to the abuse of his tongue, and his hand in war to his advice in council.

The object of Hannibal had been to attach to himself the Italian towns, but they naturally repudiated an attachment, which consisted in his fastening himself on to them with an army which they were made to support at a ruinous sacrifice. He had, however, succeeded in winning over Capua to his designs, for it was inhabited by a contemptible race, who lay continually in the lap of luxury, where the lapse of all the better qualities would seem to be unavoidable. Not satisfied with treachery to the parent state, the Capuans added cruelty to their other vices, and stifled in their hot baths all the Romans who were living among them – an enormity which sends the blood immediately to boiling heat, to contemplate. The faithless inhabitants stipulated that they should be allowed to break all their engagements with Rome, on entering into new engagements with Carthage, – an arrangement like that of a dishonest servant, who, having robbed a former master, stipulates for impunity for past roguery as the condition of future fidelity. Hannibal was weak or politic enough to enter into terms with this contemptible set; but he incurred the unfailing penalty of wrong, for his own army became corrupted by contact with the Capuan crew, and his fortunes began to decline from the time of his alliance with this degraded people.

The exertions of Rome to repair her reverses were extreme after the battle of Cannæ; and though nearly every family had lost a relative, the period of mourning was limited to thirty days, while a law was passed prohibiting all women from weeping in the streets, for they had been found a crying evil. Sparing no expense, the state performed an operation of a rather curious kind, for 8000 slaves were bought on credit – the Government thus making a large purchase without any money at all – and freeing these slaves, made them fight; thus retaining them actually in bondage, while nominally giving them their liberty. Even gladiators were allowed the valuable privilege of fighting the foe instead of each other, and of falling in the field instead of falling in the circus.

Hannibal having used up nearly all his men and materials, was compelled to send to Carthage for fresh supplies, when his old rival Hanno exclaimed in the senate, that if the Carthaginian general had been unsuccessful, he deserved no help, and if he had been victorious, he could not possibly need any. The speech of Hanno on this occasion would have done credit – or discredit – to a political partisan of the present day; for it was essentially the language of a disappointed leader of the opposition. "If," said the honourable – or dis-honourable – member (for in mere party dissensions it is difficult to distinguish one from the other), "if Hannibal has conquered all our enemies, why does he send to us for soldiers? If he has reduced Italy – the most fertile country in Europe – why does he ask us for corn? And if he has obtained such rich booty, what on earth can he want with money? The truth, I suspect, to be, that his victories are sham – his territorial acquisitions sham – the riches (of which he has sent us specimens, in the shape of a few rings,) sham, – while his necessities, and the burden thrown upon us in supplying them, are the only things that are real."

This argument, though specious, did not altogether prevail, for the senate decreed him four thousand Numidians and forty elephants, the men and the brutes being looked upon as equally articles of consumption in the game of war that had been so long playing. The Romans began to act with increased determination, and blockaded Capua, which was left to its fate by Hannibal, though an attempt to relieve it was made by a detachment which received a severe beating at the hands of Tib. S. Gracchus.

This period is rendered additionally remarkable by the siege of Syracuse, which eventually fell into the hands of M. Claudius Marcellus, whose efforts had long been thwarted by the genius of Archimedes. This illustrious inventor lived to the good old age of seventy-five; but how he lived so long is a matter of almost as much wonder as some of his inventions, for his biographers tell us that he always forgot to eat and drink; nor could he ever be persuaded to take a bath, except when his friends pushed him into one. Even when this was accomplished, he was sure to be found under the ashes of the fire-places, writing problems among the cinders, and endeavouring to sift some important point; so that a bath was really thrown away upon the great philosopher. In a visit to Egypt, he became anxious to elevate the Nile to a certain point; but he remained in Egypt until all his money was spent, for the philosopher had never thought of raising the wind while intent on raising the water. He invented a screw, which still bears his name; but he is said to have amused himself, during the siege of Syracuse, by sitting at the window and inventing all sorts of missiles to hurl at the ships of the enemy. One day he might be seen throwing stones from a newly-invented sling, and a few days after he was found casting out chains, to pull – with a tremendous hook – the ships of the foe completely out of the water. He was so intent upon everything he came near, that he gave a lift to enemies occasionally as well as to friends, as in the instance just recorded, and he declared his ability to give the whole world a lift if he could only find a convenient spot in the neighbourhood for himself and his lever to rest upon. That in one sense he carried out his boast, we are willing to admit; for he undoubtedly elevated the world by raising the standard of science, and he exalted the whole of civilised humanity by his great discoveries. The part he took in the siege of Syracuse has been underrated by some, and exaggerated by others; for though the story of his pulling the ships out of the sea requires a length of rope, and other apparatus, which none but the greatest stretch of imagination can supply, his destroying the vessels by burning-glasses is perfectly credible. He is supposed to have used very powerful reflectors, capable of taking effect within the distance of bow-shot; and though for some time the moderns insisted that the long-bow had been pulled for the purpose of increasing the space, the powers of the burning-glass are now familiar to every schoolboy.

On the fall of Syracuse, orders were given by Marcellus, the Roman general, that the philosopher should be respected; but he was so absorbed in a problem, that the soldier who was sent after him not being able to solve the problem of who he was, or what he was about, fell upon and slew him.