and a shout arose similar to the unmeaning cry of "Hornpipe!" that is
heard in a modern theatre on the first performance of a pantomime. The
young noble, feeling that he might be involved in an extraordinary
caper, seems to have suddenly resumed his senses; for he exclaimed with
a serious air, "Yes, we must dance and feast now, for Pyrrhus will
soon put an end to all our merriment." The words of Meto seemed too
prophetic; for Pyrrhus had no sooner arrived, than, on the principle,
perhaps, that where there is a great deal of work, there should be no
play, he shut up the theatre of the Tarentines. He stopped everything in
the shape of amusement, and the young noble's prediction as to the
city's dancing days being nearly over, was completely verified. It would
certainly have been better for Pyrrhus in the end had he listened in the
beginning to his counsellor, Cineas, who, according to Plutarch, talked
the matter over with his royal master, in the most familiar manner
possible. "Now, tell me," said Cineas, "supposing our expedition to be
successful, what will be the next step?" a query which elicited from
Pyrrhus a whole catalogue of arduous exploits, which he had in
contemplation. "Very good," said the sage, "and when all is conquered,
what then?"--"What then?" responded Pyrrhus, "why, then, of course, we
can take our ease, drink, and be merry."--"True enough," rejoined
Cineas, "but why not take your ease, drink, and be merry at once,
without all the preliminary toils and dangers you propose to undergo,
and by which you only postpone, instead of advancing, your ultimate
object?" Unfortunately Pyrrhus, like many others, failed to see the
force of this kind of reasoning, and he continued to encounter immediate
peril and fatigue, with the remote prospect of future repose, which
there was nothing to prevent his taking at once if he had really set his
head on it.
Though he would not acknowledge himself to be convinced by the arguments
of the philosopher, it is probable that Pyrrhus secretly felt the value
of the advice that had been given him; for his first step was a proposal
to treat; and he even offered a draft by way of preliminary, but the
Roman Consul rejected the proffered measure. The armies accordingly met
on the banks of the Siris, a small river near Heraclea, and Pyrrhus sent
a spy with a spy-glass, to inspect the position of the enemy. The spy
was immediately spied out on the other side, and arrested forthwith, so
that the look-out of the spy appeared utterly deplorable. Having,
however, been shown everything there was to be seen in the Roman camp,
as if he had been a traveller in search of information, instead of a
sneak traversing a hostile area, the spy was sent back with care--right
side upwards, which he scarcely deserved--to his master. This incident
elicited from Pyrrhus the remark, that "the barbarians had an
exceedingly gentlemanly way of conducting a war;" and the next day being
fixed for the battle, he felt that he should have the satisfaction of a
gentleman in going out with them.
The attack was commenced by the Romans; and the Consul, resolving either
to sink or swim, sent a body of cavalry across the river. Pyrrhus,
putting himself at the head of his horse, proceeded to meet the charge,
but he soon perceived that his brilliant armour was rendering him
uncomfortably conspicuous, and he exchanged his dazzling coat of mail
for an old rusty suit worn by his friend Megacles. The latter was
perhaps proud to wear the trappings of royalty, but the emptiness of
false glitter was speedily exemplified, for Megacles being mistaken for
the king, was killed, and the shining armour was carried in triumph to
the enemy's camp before the hollow mockery was discovered.
The battle was fought with determined bravery on both sides, but brute
force decided it at last, for the elephants of Pyrrhus weighed immensely
in the scale of victory. The creatures coming down _en masse_, were more
effective than the heaviest of ordinary heavies, and advancing with all
their might upon the horses, the latter, though resisting with all their
mane, felt their animal spirits rapidly oozing out of them. The carnage
committed upon the Romans would have been merciless and complete, had it
not been for the humanity of one of the elephants, who, taking a
benevolent turn, pulled himself short round, and prevented his own side
from continuing the pursuit of the fugitives. Pyrrhus, having laid his
hands on everything he could take, proceeded to take everything he could
lay his hands upon. A rich harvest having been collected, he, on the day
following, went to glean what he could on the field of battle.
Perceiving that the Romans had all fallen with their eyes towards the
foe, he could not but acknowledge, with so much bravery staring him in
the face, the courage of his antagonists. "With such soldiers as these,"
he exclaimed, "the world would be mine, or, at all events, it would be
theirs if I were their general." He had, however, lost half his own men;
and as they lay prostrate before him, they seemed to offer a flat
contradiction to the congratulations offered to him on his victory.
"Another such a triumph," he replied, "and I should return to Epirus
thoroughly unmanned, for there would not remain to me a single soldier."
He offered to the prisoners employment in his own army, but they,
without exception, refused; and, considering their conduct
unexceptionable, he had their chains taken off, that they might feel
themselves quite unfettered in their future movements. He burned the
bodies of the dead, out of compliment to their remains, whose
combustion, could they have acted for themselves, would no doubt have
been spontaneous. He made a tolerably fair division of the spoil, giving
some to his allies, and devoted a considerable slice to Zeus--a piece of
devotion of which the priests of the temple got the chief benefit.
The policy of Pyrrhus was to turn old foes into new friends; and he sent
his trusty counsellor, Cineas, to Rome, with a suggestion that all
animosity should be buried in the graves of those who had fallen on both
sides. The Senators were beginning to waver, when Appius Claudius the
Blind--who had been carried down to the house by his four sons--an
arrangement that suggests the picture of a veteran supported by a youth
at each arm and at each leg--declared suddenly that he could see through
the whole affair, and called upon the Romans to open their eyes to the
designs of Pyrrhus. The veteran, who, from infirmity, was unable to stir
without assistance, could still agitate with his tongue; he urged that
the proposals of Cineas should be rejected; and the assembly having
first carried the motion, carried home the mover in triumph.
Cineas, on returning to his master, described the city as a temple, and
the Senate as an assembly of kings; for he could not get the temples out
of his head; and the magnificent curule chairs kept reminding him of the
dignified setting down he had received from the Senators.
Pyrrhus, finding his friendly advances repulsed, resolved on advancing
upon Rome in a less amicable spirit. Proceeding towards Capua, he
encountered Laevinius, the consul, whom he had on a previous occasion
beaten; but he was now not quite so fortunate; for, after a severe
contest, neither side could say exactly which had got the worst of it.
Pyrrhus, however, marched upon Praeneste, which fell into his hands, in
consequence of the Romans having let it slip through their fingers. From
the acropolis of Praeneste he is said to have seen Rome, at a distance
of eighteen miles; but he must have seen very little, if so far off,
unless he was accustomed to magnify what he saw in a very remarkable
manner. The sight was sufficiently imposing to cause him to retreat; and
he went into winter quarters at Tarentum, where he spent his own time,
and the money he had taken from the enemy.
[Illustration: Self-possession of Fabricius, the Ambassador, under
rather Trying Circumstances.]
While Pyrrhus was thus engaged, or rather disengaged, three
ambassadors, named C. Fabricius, Q. A. Papus, and P. Dolabella, were
sent to him from Rome, to negotiate for the release of prisoners. C.
Fabricius was a very superior man; and Pyrrhus, thinking to gain over
the superior man, employed means by which none but a very inferior
individual was at all likely to be influenced. Bribery was the first
expedient attempted by Pyrrhus; but C. Fabricius showed his contempt for
money by pursing his eyebrows. Having failed in his coarse appeal to
avarice, Pyrrhus tried what was to be done through fear; and one day a
_tête-à-tête_ between the king and the ambassador was disturbed by the
sudden introduction of a third _tête_, in the shape of the head of an
elephant. The sagacious brute stood concealed behind a curtain, and,
with a blow of the trunk on the cheek, he administered a smart box on
the ear to the startled ambassador. The animal accompanied the act with
a hideous roar, and threw his trunk over the head of C. Fabricius, who
remained for a moment unable to see the clumsy joke that was being
played upon him. He, nevertheless, retained his self-possession,
remarking simply that neither by throwing gold dust in his eyes, nor by
the still blacker job of the elephant's trunk, was he to be blinded to
his duty.
Though Pyrrhus would not accede to the terms proposed for ransoming the
Roman prisoners, he allowed them to go to Rome, for the season, to be
present at the celebration of the _fêtes_ of the Saturnalia. These games
appear to have included some rather melancholy mirth, the principal fun
of the affair consisting in the practice of shouting out "Io!"--which is
equivalent to "Go it!"--in the public thoroughfare. Presents were
exchanged among friends; and servants were in the habit of offering wax
candles to their masters,--a sort of composition, perhaps, which the
former came to with their consciences, in memory of the enormities of
the grease pot. The domestic was allowed to wear his employer's clothes;
and this portion of the ceremonies of the Saturnalia is still privately
observed by the gentleman's gentleman of the family. While the wardrobe
of the master remained at the mercy of the valet, the synthesis, or
dressing-gown, was the fashionable attire; and for a period of general
relaxation, this loose wrapper was perfectly appropriate.
Having done at Rome as Rome was doing, during the Saturnalia, the
prisoners returned to Pyrrhus, who opened the campaign in Apulia, and
met the two Roman consuls--P. Sulpicius, and P. Decius Mus--at Asculum.
This Mus is the third to which the labours of the historical muse have
given birth; and he is said to have shared the fate of his grandfather
and father--if at least that fate can be said to have been "shared," of
which each had to bear the whole inconvenience. The battle fought at
Asculum was severe, the Romans having lost 6000 men; for tradition
delights in round numbers, with which probability often refuses to
square; and no less than three thousand five hundred and five--for in
this case exactness is carried to a degree of excess--are said to have
fallen on the side of Pyrrhus.
War was found to be doing its usual work, the sword was cutting both
ways at once; the candle was burning away at both ends, and the
litigants were figuratively cutting their own throats, as well as those
of their enemies. Each party would have backed out, if he could have
seen his way, when an incident occurred that opened the door to a
compromise. Pyrrhus had a medical attendant; who, perhaps, felt that
doctor's work might as well be done at first as at last, and offered to
poison by one dose, instead of by slow degrees, his illustrious patient.
The medical traitor accordingly prepared a draft, which he knew he could
persuade Pyrrhus to accept; but the Romans rejected the idea with scorn,
and denounced the scoundrel, who when taken was severely shaken by his
indignant countrymen. The wretch at first denied having written the
prescription, and attempted to eat his own words; but they stuck in his
throat, and he died from the physical impossibility of getting them
either one way or the other.
Pyrrhus was so pleased with the treatment of the empiric who would have
poisoned him, that he sent back all his prisoners to Rome without
ransom, togged[38] out in new togas, and attended by pages, stitched in
neat wrappers. After some negotiation, which was assisted by the
returned prisoners, who urged their own new suits in support of that of
Pyrrhus, now eager for peace, a truce for four years was agreed upon. It
was stipulated that he should leave Italy, and he took the opportunity
to cross to Sicily with the benevolent intention of freeing the people
from the Carthaginian yoke; but, like most foreign liberators, if he
took off an old yoke with one hand, he had in the other a new apparatus,
which he was anxious to substitute. His object was to have made himself
master of the place; but after remaining three years, he began to lament
the faithlessness of friends, and helping himself to as much booty as he
could lay his hands upon, he left the Sicilians to deplore the loss of
himself and the treasure he took away with him. He had, in fact, been
sent for by the Tarentines, and was on his way to see what he could do
for them, when he was met by a Carthaginian fleet, which sank seventy of
his ships--as we are told by the same authority that represents him to
have started with only sixty,--a fact which leaves little doubt as to
which party profited most by the friendship between Pyrrhus and the
people of Sicily. He suffered a further loss in the mountain passes,
where he had some very narrow escapes; but he nevertheless continued to
keep a balance of 20,000 foot, and 3000 horse for the purpose of meeting
any future engagements.
On his arrival at Tarentum, there was such a panic among the Romans that
nobody would enlist, until Curius Dentatus announced his intention of
confiscating the property of the first who refused to enter the rank
that was open to him. Besides the panic caused by the name of Pyrrhus,
an alarm had sprung up in consequence of the head of the god Summanus
having been struck off his statue by lightning, and nobody could
ascertain what had become of it. Accident led to its discovery in the
bed of the Tiber, from which it had probably been fished by one of those
extraordinary hooks which so many of our historical facts are found to
hang upon. The augurs were consulted as a matter of course, and on a
case being submitted to their opinion, they advised that the action
against Pyrrhus should be carried on; for, according to the soothsayers,
the loss and subsequent finding of the head, proved that after
hair-breadth escapes victory would crown their labours.
[Illustration: Discovery of the Head of Summanus.]
Pyrrhus in the mean time marched to Beneventum to attack Curius,
intending to surprise the latter by sending, through a mountain pass,
some troops and elephants. The idea of a short cut for these massive
brutes was absurd, and the unwieldy bulk of the elephants caused a
succession of stoppages in the highways and byeways through which they
were being driven. The Greek columns got occasionally into a fearful
fix, and it was with difficulty they could lug through the mountain pass
their extremely bulky luggage. Instead of completing their journey by
night, it was daylight before they had commenced their descent on
Curius, who saw them at a distance, and prepared a warm reception for
the elephants. He attacked them with burning arrows, and lighted barrels
of tar, which were pitched among the poor brutes, who fell back upon
their own camp, and every tent was turned into a crush-room. Several
elephants were killed, and four, being taken alive, were made to march
as prisoners in the Consul's triumph. Pyrrhus reached Tarentum with a
handful of horse, and a pocket-full of bread; but, being unable to pay
the salaries of his adherents, they soon fell away in the absence of the
usual golden rivets. He retired to Greece, where he engaged in all sorts
of adventures, till the want of money prevented him from carrying on the
war in any shape; and it is said that he had come down, at last, to such
very petty disputes, that he died of a blow on the head, from a stone
aimed at him in a street-row by an angry woman. On the death of Pyrrhus,
those whom he had assisted relinquished all hope of maintaining
themselves against such a formidable enemy as Rome, and the Lucanians,
Bruttians, and Samnites proceeded to do homage to a power they had been
in the habit of defying as long as they had any one on their side
strong enough to assist them in fighting their battles. The Samnite
ambassadors, who were entrusted with the humiliating duty of conveying
the submission of their countrymen to Curius Dentatus, found him at his
Sabine farm, engaged in the discussion of a large dish of turnips. He
received the envoys with no other form than a wooden one, upon which he
was seated, and he continued his vegetarian meal, as he listened to
their overtures. They offered to bribe him with gold; but, taking up a
spoonful of the mashed turnips, he declared that, as long as he could
make sure of his daily bunch of his favourite luxury, wealth had no
charms for him.
[Illustration: Curius Dentatus refusing the Magnificent Gift offered by
the Samnite Ambassadors.]
The Samnites made one more desperate effort against Rome, and Lollius, a
runaway hostage, who had escaped to his native mountains, found life
such thoroughly up-hill work, that he resolved to change it, or part
with it. Having got round him a band of robbers, who were just the sort
of persons to do everything by stealth, he secretly prepared to attack
the Romans; but they, hearing of the approach of the marauders, were
early in the field, and, securing the leaders of the insurrection,
struck off their heads in order to break the neck of it.
Rome was now mistress of Italy, but her ambition, which, though always
vaulting, knew no bounds, would not allow her to keep her empire within
its natural limits. In the management of her conquered possessions she
affected much generosity, in professing to admit the vanquished to a
share of her own advantages,--an operation she effected by taking all
the advantages to herself in the first instance, and then conveying a
small moiety back to those from whom they had been wrested.
The Colonial system pursued by Rome was peculiar, for instead of
selecting uninhabited places, she preferred a population ready made,
possessing wealth already acquired, of which she usually helped herself
to a full third in exchange for a Government, which she supplied from
her own large stock of persons in want of places. The relationship
between Rome and her colonies has been compared to that of parent and
child; but considering the stripping process to which Rome had recourse,
she seems to have acted less as a mother than a kidnapper. The Roman
Constitution, like the Roman cement, was an excellent compound, of which
it is impossible to describe the ingredients; and, indeed, it is found
that the best Constitutions--like our own British--are those which
cannot be defined by a written prescription, or made the subject of a
perfect analysis. There was a judicious spreading of political power
over a considerable surface, and thus--to use a figure from the
chemist's shop--a plaster was always ready to be applied to the sores,
or even the trifling eruptions that might make their appearance on any
portion of the great body of the nation.
As in our own admirable form of government, there were three estates,
comprising the people, the senate, and the executive; but the want of a
permanent and universally recognised head of the state, kept the country
continually exposed to agitation on the part of designing demagogues.
As the sword, unfortunately, cuts the most prominent figure in the early
history of Rome, we must not omit to speak of its military organisation,
which was very complete; for in early times there seemed to be an
impression that neighbours ought to be approached with the arm of war,
rather than with the hand of friendship. Every Roman citizen was a
soldier, and was liable at any moment to be called upon to turn his
ploughshare into a sword, though when his special service was over he
was at liberty to turn his sword back again into a ploughshare. This
transformation was not effected without damage to the instrument, and
the ordinary operations of agriculture were frequently interrupted by
calling the labourer from the garden to the field, and forcing him to
drill when engaged in sowing broad-cast. We have in a single chapter of
Livy[39] an account of what a Roman army consisted of during the great
Latin war, and though learned writers[40] have snarled and quarrelled
over the materials, like dogs over a dry and meatless bone, we quietly
walk into the midst of them, and deliberately extract the marrow. An
army may be described in half-a-dozen lines, though it consisted of
five, which were termed respectively, _Hastati_, _Principes_, _Triarii_,
_Rorarii_, and _Accensi_.
The _Hastati_, so called from their carrying the _hasta_ or spear,
consisted of youth in the bloom of early manhood, and who went in front,
that their early bloom might encounter the first blow of the enemy. The
next row was formed of the _Principes_, or men in the vigour of life,
distinguished by the abundance and splendour of their shields, arms, and
accoutrements, and comprising what may be termed the heavy swells of the
army. Next in order came the _Triarii_, a body of veterans, selected for
their past experience--a quality which, however valuable in council, may
be often useless in war; for though experience might have told a veteran
that he ought to run for his life, his heels, being as old as his head,
might have refused to do the latter's bidding. The fourth rank was
composed of _Rorarii_, from the word _Rora_, dew, who sprinkled the
enemy with various missiles, and who standing behind the _Triarii_, must
occasionally, by aiming short of the foe, have given more than their due
to the veterans immediately in front of them. Last in order came the
_Accensi_, or supernumeraries, whose courage and fidelity were not of
the highest class, and who either brought up the rear or left it behind,
as their resolution urged them on, or their want of it kept them back,
while there was always an opening left in case their fears should run
away with them. It was frequently the practice of the _Accensi_ to
reserve the vacant back-ground as a sort of race-course, in which races
between their valour and their discretion were being continually run,
and in the majority of cases the latter got by far the best of it.
The habits of the early Romans were extremely simple; agriculture was
their most honoured employment; and it was thought high praise to say of
any man, that he was a good husband, and a good husbandman. Their food
was chiefly corn; and many a happy family afforded an illustration of
the fact that love, notwithstanding the assertion of the song writer to
the contrary, can sometimes live on flour. Wine was so precious, that,
in libations to the gods, it was poured out drop by drop, to prevent
their getting a drop too much; and, indeed, so scarce was it in the
early days of Rome, that Romulus is said to have used milk in his
sacrifices; while Papirius, at a later period, vowed, in the event of
his victory over the Samnites, a small glass--or _petit verre_--to
Jupiter.
Long beards were worn by the Romans until the arrival of a Greek barber
from Sicily; and he is said to have plucked out, with a pair of
tweezers, the beard which had grown for four centuries and a half into a
rooted habit. On some he employed the razor, and he was able to reap an
abundant harvest from the chins of a people who had never yet worn a
smooth-faced aspect.
The invasion of Pyrrhus caused the adoption at Rome of many Grecian
luxuries, and among others was the luxury of substituting a silver
coinage for copper, which had been found so inconvenient that a rich man
had been obliged to use a wagon instead of a purse, if he wished to take
his money about with him. Silver was, however, so scarce, that one
Cornelius Rufinus was turned out of the Senate for having on his
sideboard more than ten pounds of plate; for it was believed that he
could not have come honestly by so much of it, and he was regarded as
either a thief, or at least as a receiver of stolen property.
So humble were the pretensions to display in those early days, that a
silver cup and a salt-cellar formed, usually, the entire contents of a
Roman noble's plate-basket. Music, among the early Romans, was at the
lowest possible pitch, and the only professors were flute-players, of
scarcely any note, from Etruria. Their strains were so dismal as to be
employed only at a sacrifice or a funeral, when extreme melancholy was
required. On one occasion the band is said to have struck, and retired
to Tibur, when the musicians were only brought back by being made
helplessly drunk,--a weakness to which some of those hirelings who
assist at the performance of funerals are in our day liable.
FOOTNOTES:
[36] Polybius.
[37] Polyb., ii. 20.
[38] The ignorantly squeamish, who may object to the word "togged," will
please to observe that it is purely classical--the Latin _toga_ being
the root of the participle "togged," as well as the substantive
"toggery."
[39] Livy, viii.--8.
[40] Lipsius and others.
CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH.
THE FIRST PUNIC WAR.
[Illustration]