PYRRHUS TRIES TO FRIGHTEN FABRICIUS
After the great victory of Heraclea, Pyrrhus sent his minister Cineas
to Rome to offer terms of peace.
Cineas was an orator. By the magic of his word he could sway men’s
minds and wills, and it was said that he, by his tongue, had won more
cities than Pyrrhus by his sword.
Between the eloquence of Cineas and the fear of another defeat, the
Senate wavered--almost it was tempted to accept the terms offered by
the conqueror of Heraclea.
As the Senate hesitated, Appius Claudius, who was now old and blind,
appeared before the Assembly, leaning upon the arms of his sons. He had
heard that the Senate thought of accepting the terms of the conqueror,
and old and feeble as he was, he had come to protest against so
disloyal a deed.
‘Hitherto, Fathers,’ said the old man, ‘I used to mourn that I was
deprived of the light of the eye; now, however, I should consider
myself happy, if, in addition to that, I had lost the sense of hearing,
that I might not hear the disgraceful counsels which are here openly
proposed to the shame of the Roman name.... Whither have your pride and
your courage flown?’
Weak as the old man was, he spoke with such passion and such wisdom,
that when he ended, there was not a single member of the Senate who was
not prepared to vote that war should continue until Pyrrhus had been
forced to withdraw from Italy.
Cineas, as he listened to the passionate words of Appius Claudius, knew
that his cause was lost. He was indeed bidden to hasten back to his
master and say that the Romans would never make peace with him, no, not
if he ‘should have defeated a thousand such as the Consul Valerius.’
Meanwhile Pyrrhus had marched north, to Capua, hoping to seize the
town, only, however, to find that Valerius had already taken possession
of it.
Disappointed as he was, the king continued his march until he was
within twenty-three miles of Rome. And as he marched Valerius followed,
harassing his rear on every possible occasion.
Then Pyrrhus, hearing that a Dictator had been appointed and was ready
to oppose him, retreated to Tarentum, where he spent the winter months.
The victory of Heraclea had been followed only by a useless march.
During the winter an embassy, led by Fabricius, came from Rome to
Tarentum, to offer an exchange of prisoners.
Cineas advised the King to try to bribe the Roman. So Pyrrhus offered
Fabricius splendid gifts, but he answered proudly, ‘If I am base how
can I be worth a bribe, if honest how can you expect me to take one?
Poverty with honesty is more to be desired than wealth.’
Then Pyrrhus, finding that the advice of Cineas had been useless,
determined to try a plan of his own. Perhaps he would be able to
frighten Fabricius into doing as he wished, and this is the strange way
he chose.
He ordered his largest elephant to be placed in the room in which he
and the Roman were to meet. The elephant was to be hidden by a curtain,
which at a signal from the king was to be drawn aside.
So the next day when Pyrrhus and the ambassador met, their conversation
was suddenly interrupted, and the Roman to his astonishment found
himself standing close to a huge beast, whose trunk and tusks would
have looked formidable enough even to a strong soldier, while
Fabricius was an old man.
But when the elephant began to trumpet, the Roman only laughed, and
without stirring he said, ‘The beast cannot move me to-day more than
your gold yesterday.’
Fabricius had easily guessed the meaning of the strange interruption,
and of the appearance of the huge animal in the king’s sitting-room.
Pyrrhus saw that it was hopeless to try to come to terms with the
Roman, and he again prepared for war.
Early in 279 B.C. he marched into Apulia, and there, near the town of
Asculum, another great battle was fought.
The Romans had learned to dread the terrible war-elephants which
accompanied Pyrrhus on the battlefield. To cope with them, they had
wagons built, with spikes fixed to the wheels. These wagons were filled
with soldiers, who carried javelins, ready to throw at the dread beasts.
But Pyrrhus made these precautions of little use, for he sent the
elephants to a part of the field where no wagons had been placed.
Long and terrible was the struggle between the two armies.
The elephants, with archers scattered among them, advanced in a
closely-formed body upon the Romans, while the Greeks, using their
swords, seemed heedless of their wounds, so only they might get to
close quarters with the enemy. But here, as at Heraclea, the elephants
dashed upon the Romans before they were aware, and they were forced to
flee.
Pyrrhus and many of his officers were wounded, and although the day was
theirs, they were soon glad to retire to Tarentum, until their wounds
were healed.
The victory of Asculum seemed of as little use as that of Heraclea, for
when his wound was healed, Pyrrhus found that so many of his men had
perished, that he could not again take the field until reinforcements
arrived from Epirus.
So in the spring of 278 B.C. the king once again tried to make terms
with Rome.
But the Senate still heard the brave words of Appius Claudius ringing
in its ears, and it refused even to discuss terms of peace with the
victor.
Meanwhile the people of Tarentum showed their dislike to the discipline
of the king more and more plainly. Their ingratitude and the approach
of the hostile armies of Rome I made Pyrrhus glad to leave Tarentum.
So he sailed to Sicily, where the Greek colonies were in danger from
the Carthaginians, who had come from Africa in hope of new conquests.
He spent two years in the island, where at first he won great
victories. But here, as in Italy, he seemed unable to reap good from
his conquests.
Moreover his officers, although they began by behaving well to the
Sicilians, soon showed themselves to be both greedy and cruel. In 276
B.C. the people resolved to endure these foreign soldiers no longer,
and they hounded them out of the island.
Pyrrhus then went back to Italy, where both the Tarentines and the
Samnites were becoming alarmed at the growing power of Rome.