THE RETREAT FROM ITALY.
B.C. 276-274
State of Pyrrhus's army.--His enfeebled condition.--Precarious
situation of his affairs.--Affair of Locri.--Pyrrhus recaptures
it.--Proserpina, the Goddess of Death.--Explanations.--Centaurs,
mermaids, hippogriffs, and other fables.--Fabulous history of
Proserpina.--Ceres seeks her.--Mystical significancy of Proserpina's
life.--Pyrrhus resolves to confiscate the treasures at Locri.--The
ships are wrecked and the treasures lost.--Pyrrhus is oppressed
with superstitious fears.--He goes forth from Tarentum to meet the
Romans.--Pyrrhus meets Curius near Beneventum.--He advances through a
mountain path by torch-light.--The Romans taken by surprise.--Pyrrhus
is repulsed.--Adventures of Pyrrhus on the field of battle.--Onset of
the elephants.--They are terrified by the torches.--The young elephant
and its mother.--Pyrrhus's flight.--His desperate expedient.--He
arrives at length safely in Epirus.--
The force with which Pyrrhus returned to Tarentum was very nearly as
large as that which he had taken away, but was composed of very
different materials. The Greeks from Epirus, whom he had brought over
with him in the first instance from his native land, had gradually
disappeared from the ranks of his army. Many of them had been killed
in battle, and still greater numbers had been carried off by exposure
and fatigue, and by the thousand other casualties incident to such a
service as that in which they were engaged. Their places had been
supplied, from time to time, by new enlistments, or by impressment and
conscription. Of course, these new recruits were not bound to their
commander by any ties of attachment or regard. They were mostly
mercenaries--that is, men hired to fight, and willing to fight, in any
cause or for any commander, provided they could be paid. In a word,
Pyrrhus's fellow-countrymen of Epirus had disappeared, and the ranks
of his army were filled up with unprincipled and destitute wretches,
who felt no interest in his cause--no pride in his success--no concern
for his honor. They adhered to him only for the sake of the pay and
the indulgences of a soldier's life, and for their occasional hopes of
plunder.
Besides the condition of his army, Pyrrhus found the situation of his
affairs in other respects very critical on his arrival at Tarentum.
The Romans had made great progress, during his absence, in subjugating
the whole country to their sway. Cities and towns, which had been
under his dominion when he went to Sicily, had been taken by the
Romans, or had gone over to them of their own accord. The government
which he had established at Tarentum was thus curtailed of power, and
shut in in respect to territory; and he felt himself compelled
immediately to take the field, in order to recover his lost ground.
He adopted vigorous measures immediately to re-enforce his army, and
to obtain the necessary supplies. His treasury was exhausted; in order
to replenish it, he dispatched embassadors to his various allies to
borrow money. He knew, of course, that a large portion of his army
would abandon him immediately so soon as they should find that he was
unable to pay them. He was, therefore, quite uneasy for a time in
respect to the state of his finances, and he instructed his
embassadors to press the urgency of his wants upon his allies in a
very earnest manner.
He did not, however, wait for the result of these measures, but
immediately commenced active operations in the field. One of his first
exploits was the recapture of Locri, a city situated on the southern
shore of Italy, as will be seen by the map. This city had been in his
possession before he went to Sicily, but it had gone over to the
Romans during his absence. Locri was a very considerable town, and the
recovery of it from the Romans was considered quite an important gain.
The place derived its consequence, in some considerable degree, from a
celebrated temple which stood there. It was the temple of Proserpina,
the Goddess of Death. This temple was magnificent in its structure,
and it was enriched with very costly and valuable treasures. It not
only gave distinction to the town in which it stood, but, on account
of an extraordinary train of circumstances which occurred in
connection with it, it became the occasion of one of the most
important incidents in Pyrrhus's history.
Proserpina, as has already been intimated, was the Goddess of Death.
It is very difficult for us at the present day to understand and
appreciate the conceptions which the Greeks and Romans, in ancient
times, entertained of the supernatural beings which they
worshiped--those strange creations, in which we see historic truth,
poetic fancy, and a sublime superstition so singularly blended. To aid
us in rightly understanding this subject, we must remember that in
those days the boundaries of what was known as actual reality were
very uncertain and vague. Only a very small portion, either of the
visible world or of the domain of science and philosophy, had then
been explored; and in the thoughts and conceptions of every man, the
natural and the true passed by insensible gradations, on every hand,
into the monstrous and the supernatural, there being no principles of
any kind established in men's minds to mark the boundaries where the
true and the possible must end, and all beyond be impossible and
absurd. The knowledge, therefore, that men derived from the
observation of such truths and such objects as were immediately
around them, passed by insensible gradations into the regions of fancy
and romance, and all was believed together. They saw lions and
elephants in the lands which were near, and which they knew; and they
believed in the centaurs, the mermaids, the hippogriffs, and the
dragons, which they imagined inhabiting regions more remote. They saw
heroes and chieftains in the plains and in the valleys below; and they
had no reason to disbelieve in the existence of gods and demi-gods
upon the summits of the blue and beautiful mountains above, where, for
aught they knew, there might lie boundless territories of verdure and
loveliness, wholly inaccessible to man. In the same manner, beneath
the earth somewhere, they knew not where, there lay, as they imagined,
extended regions destined to receive the spirits of the dead, with
approaches leading to it, through mysterious grottoes and caverns,
from above. Proserpina was the Goddess of Death, and the queen of
these lower abodes.
Various stories were told of her origin and history. The one most
characteristic and most minutely detailed is this:
She was the daughter of Jupiter and Ceres. She was very beautiful;
and, in order to protect her from the importunity of lovers, her
mother sent her, under the care of an attendant named Calligena, to a
cavern in Sicily, and concealed her there. The mouth of the cavern was
guarded by dragons. Pluto, who was the god of the inferior regions,
asked her of Jupiter, her father, for his wife. Jupiter consented, and
sent Venus to entice her out of her cavern, that Pluto might obtain
her. Venus, attended by Minerva and Diana, proceeded to the cavern
where Proserpina was concealed. The three goddesses contrived some
means to keep the dragons that guarded the cavern away, and then
easily persuaded the maiden to come out to take a walk. Proserpina was
charmed with the verdure and beauty which she found around her on the
surface of the ground, strongly contrasted as they were with the gloom
and desolation of her cavern. She was attended by nymphs and zephyrs
in her walk, and in their company she rambled along, admiring the
beauty and enjoying the fragrance of the flowers. Some of the flowers
which most attracted her attention were produced on the spot by the
miraculous power of Jupiter, who caused them to spring up in wonderful
luxuriance and splendor, the more effectually to charm the senses of
the maiden whom they were enticing away. At length, suddenly the
earth opened, and Pluto appeared, coming up from below in a golden
chariot drawn by immortal steeds, and, seizing Proserpina, he carried
her down to his own abodes.
Ceres, the mother of Proserpina, was greatly distressed when she
learned the fate of her daughter. She immediately went to Jupiter, and
implored him to restore Proserpina to the upper world. Jupiter, on the
other hand, urged Ceres to consent to her remaining as the wife of
Pluto. The mother, however, would not yield, and finally her tears and
entreaties so far prevailed over Jupiter as to induce him to give
permission to Ceres to bring Proserpina back, provided that she had
not tasted of any food that grew in the regions below. Ceres
accordingly went in search of her daughter. She found, unfortunately,
that Proserpina, in walking through the Elysian fields with Pluto, had
incautiously eaten a pomegranate which she had taken from a tree that
was growing there. She was consequently precluded from availing
herself of Jupiter's permission to return to Olympus. Finally,
however, Jupiter consented that she should divide her time between the
inferior and the superior regions, spending six months with Pluto
below, and six months with her mother above; and she did so.
Proserpina was looked upon by all mankind with feelings of great
veneration and awe as the goddess and queen of death, and she was
worshiped in many places with solemn and imposing ceremonies. There
was, moreover, in the minds of men, a certain mystical significancy in
the mode of life which she led, in thus dividing her time by regular
alternations between the lower and upper worlds, that seemed to them
to denote and typify the principle of _vegetation_, which may be
regarded as, in a certain sense, alternately a principle of life and
death, inasmuch as, for six months in the year, it appears in the form
of living and growing plants, rising above the ground, and covering
the earth with verdure and beauty, and then, for the six months that
remain, it withdraws from the view, and exists only in the form of
inert and apparently lifeless roots and seeds, concealed in hidden
recesses beneath the ground. Proserpina was thus considered the type
and emblem of vegetation, and she was accordingly worshiped, in some
sense, as the goddess of resuscitation and life, as well as of death
and the grave.
One of the principal temples which had been built in honor of
Proserpina was situated, as has already been said, at Locri, and
ceremonials and festivals were celebrated here, at stated intervals,
with great pomp and parade. This temple had become very wealthy, too,
immense treasures having been collected in it, consisting of gold and
silver vessels, precious stones, and rich and splendid paraphernalia
of every kind--the gifts and offerings which had been made, from time
to time, by princes and kings who had attended the festivals.
When Pyrrhus had reconquered Locri from the Romans, and this temple,
with all its treasures, fell into his power, some of his advisers
suggested that, since he was in such urgent need of money, and all his
other plans for supplying himself had hitherto failed, he should take
possession of these treasures. They might, it was argued, be
considered, in some sense, as public property; and, as the Locrians
had revolted from him in his absence, and had now been conquered anew,
he was entitled to regard these riches as the spoils of victory.
Pyrrhus determined to follow this advice. He took possession of the
richest and most valuable of the articles which the temple contained,
and, putting them on board ships which he sent to Locri for the
purpose, he undertook to transport them to Tarentum. He intended to
convert them there into money, in order to obtain funds to supply the
wants of his army.
The ships, however, on their passage along the coast, encountered a
terrible storm, and were nearly all wrecked and destroyed. The
mariners who had navigated the vessels were drowned, while yet the
sacred treasures were saved, and that, too, as it would seem, by some
supernatural agency, since the same surges which overwhelmed and
destroyed the sacrilegious ships and seamen, washed the cases in which
the holy treasures had been packed up upon the beach; and there the
messengers of Pyrrhus found them, scattered among the rocks and on the
sand at various points along the shore. Pyrrhus was greatly terrified
at this disaster. He conceived that it was a judgment of Heaven,
inflicted upon him through the influence and agency of Proserpina, as
a punishment for his impious presumption in despoiling her shrine. He
carefully collected all that the sea had saved, and sent every thing
back to Locri. He instituted solemn services there in honor of
Proserpina, to express his penitence for his faults, and, to give a
still more decisive proof of his desire to appease her anger, he put
to death the counselors who had advised him to take the treasures.
Notwithstanding all these attempts to atone for his offense, Pyrrhus
could not dispel from his mind the gloomy impression which had been
made upon it by the idea that he had incurred the direct displeasure
of Heaven. He did not believe that the anger of Proserpina was ever
fully appeased; and whenever misfortunes and calamities befell him in
his subsequent career, he attributed them to the displeasure of the
goddess of death, who, as he believed, followed him every where, and
was intent on effecting his ruin.
It was now late in the season, and the military operations both of
Pyrrhus and of the Romans were, in a great measure, suspended until
spring. Pyrrhus spent the interval in making arrangements for taking
the field as soon as the winter should be over. He had, however, many
difficulties to contend with. His financial embarrassment still
continued. His efforts to procure funds were only very partially
successful. The people too, in all the region about Tarentum, were, he
found, wholly alienated from him. They had not forgiven him for having
left them to go to Sicily, and, in consequence of this abandonment of
their cause, they had lost much of their confidence in him as their
protector, while every thing like enthusiasm in his service was wholly
gone. Through these and other causes, he encountered innumerable
impediments in executing his plans, and his mind was harassed with
continual disappointment and anxiety.
Such, however, was still his resolution and energy, that when the
season arrived for taking the field, he had a considerable force in
readiness, and he marched out of Tarentum at the head of it, to go and
meet the Romans. The Romans themselves, on the other hand, had raised
a very large force, and had sent it forward in two divisions, under
the command of the two consuls. These two divisions took different
routes; one passing to the north, through the province of Samnium, and
the other to the south, through Lucania--both, however, leading toward
Tarentum. Pyrrhus divided his forces also into two parts. One body of
troops he sent northwardly into Samnium, to meet the northern division
of the Roman army, while with the other he advanced himself by the
more southern route, to meet the Roman consul who was coming through
Lucania. The name of this consul was Curius Dentatus.
Pyrrhus advanced into Lucania. The Roman general, when he found that
his enemy was coming, thought it most prudent to send for the other
division of his army--namely, the one which was marching through
Samnium--and to wait until it should arrive before giving Pyrrhus
battle. He accordingly dispatched the necessary orders to Lentulus,
who commanded the northern division, and, in the mean time, intrenched
himself in a strong encampment at a place called Beneventum. Pyrrhus
entered Lucania and advanced toward Beneventum, and, after
ascertaining the state of the case in respect to the situation of the
camp and the plans of Curius, he paused at some distance from the
Roman position, in order to consider what it was best for him to do.
He finally came to the conclusion that it was very important that his
conflict with the Romans under Curius should take place before
Lentulus should arrive to re-enforce them, and so he determined to
advance rapidly, and fall upon and surprise them in their
intrenchments before they were aware of his approach. This plan he
accordingly attempted to execute. He advanced in the ordinary manner
and by the public roads of the country until he began to draw near to
Beneventum. At the close of the day he encamped as usual; but,
instead of waiting in his camp until the following day, and then
marching on in his accustomed manner, he procured guides to lead his
troops around by a circuitous path among the mountains, with a view of
coming down suddenly and unexpectedly upon the camp of the Romans from
the hills very early in the morning. An immense number of torches were
provided, to furnish light for the soldiers in traversing the dark
forests and gloomy ravines through which their pathway lay.
Notwithstanding all the precautions which had been taken, the
difficulties of the route were so great that the progress of the
troops was very much impeded. The track was every where encumbered
with bushes, rocks, fallen trees, and swampy tracts of ground, so that
the soldiers made way very slowly. Great numbers of the torches failed
in the course of the night, some getting extinguished by accident, and
others going out from exhaustion of fuel. By these means great numbers
of the troops were left in the dark, and after groping about for a
time in devious and uncertain paths, became hopelessly lost in the
forest. Notwithstanding all these difficulties and discouragements,
however, the main body of the army pressed resolutely on, and, just
about daybreak, the van came out upon the heights above the Roman
encampment. As soon as a sufficient number were assembled, they were
at once marshaled in battle array, and, descending from the mountains,
they made a furious onset upon the intrenchments of the enemy.
The Romans were taken wholly by surprise, and their camp became
immediately a scene of the wildest confusion. The men started up every
where out of their sleep and seized their arms. They were soon in a
situation to make a very effectual resistance to the attack of their
enemies. They first beat the assailants back from the points where
they were endeavoring to gain admission, and then, encouraged by their
success, they sallied forth from their intrenchments, and became
assailants in their turn. The Greeks were soon overpowered, and forced
to retire altogether from the ground. A great many were killed, and
some elephants, which Pyrrhus had contrived by some means to bring up
to the spot, were taken. The Romans were, of course, greatly elated at
this victory.
In fact, so much was Curius gratified and pleased with this success,
and so great was the confidence with which it inspired him, that he
determined to wait no longer for Lentulus, but to march out at once
and give Pyrrhus battle. He accordingly brought forth his troops and
drew them up on a plain near his encampment, posting them in such a
way as to gain a certain advantage for himself in the nature of the
ground which he had chosen, while yet, since there was nothing but the
open field between himself and his enemy, the movement was a fair and
regular challenge to battle. Pyrrhus accepted this challenge by
bringing up his forces to the field, and the conflict began.
As soon as the combatants were fairly engaged, one of the wings of
Pyrrhus's army began to give way. The other wing, on the contrary,
which was the one that Pyrrhus himself personally commanded, was
victorious. Pyrrhus himself led his soldiers on; and he inspired
them with so much strength and energy by his own reckless daring,
that all those portions of the Roman army which were opposed to them
were beaten and driven back into the camp. This success, however,
was not wholly owing to the personal prowess of Pyrrhus. It was due,
in a great measure, to the power of the elephants, for they fought
in that part of the field. As the Romans were almost wholly
unaccustomed to the warfare of elephants, they knew not how to
resist them, and the huge beasts bore down all before them wherever
they moved. In this crisis, Curius ordered a fresh body of troops to
advance. It was a corps of reserve, which he had stationed near the
camp under orders to hold themselves in readiness there, to come
forward and act at any moment, and at any part of the field wherever
their services might be required. These troops were now summoned to
advance and attack the elephants. They accordingly came rushing on,
brandishing their swords in one hand, and bearing burning torches,
with which they had been provided for the occasion, in the other.
The torches they threw at the elephants as soon as they came near,
in order to terrify them and make them unmanageable; and then, with
their swords, they attacked the keepers and drivers of the beasts,
and the men who fought in connection with them. The success of this
onset was so great, that the elephants soon became unmanageable.
They even broke into the phalanx, and threw the ranks of it into
confusion, overturning and trampling upon the men, and falling
themselves upon the slain, under the wounds which the spears
inflicted upon them.
[Illustration: THE ROUT.]
A remarkable incident is said to have occurred in the midst of this
scene of confusion and terror, which strikingly illustrates the
strength of the maternal instinct, even among brutes. It happened that
there was a young elephant, and also its mother, in the same division
of Pyrrhus's army. The former, though young, was sufficiently grown to
serve as an elephant of war, and, as it happened, its post on the
field of battle was not very far from that of its mother. In the
course of the battle the young elephant was wounded, and it uttered
immediately a piercing cry of pain and terror. The mother heard the
cry, and recognized the voice that uttered it through all the din and
uproar of the battle. She immediately became wholly ungovernable, and,
breaking away from the control of her keepers, she rushed forward,
trampling down every thing in her way, to rescue and protect her
offspring. This incident occurred at the commencement of the attack
which the Roman reserve made upon the elephants, and contributed very
essentially to the panic and confusion which followed.
In the end Pyrrhus was entirely defeated. He was compelled to abandon
his camp and to retire toward Tarentum. The Romans immediately
advanced, flushed with victory, and carrying all before them. Pyrrhus
retreated faster and faster, his numbers continually diminishing as he
fled, until at last, when he reached Tarentum, he had only a few
horsemen in his train. He sent off the most urgent requests to his
friends and allies in Greece to furnish him aid. The help, however,
did not come, and Pyrrhus, in order to keep the small remnant that
still adhered to him together, resorted to the desperate expedient of
forging letters from his friends, promising speedy and abundant
supplies, and showing these letters to his officers, to prevent them
from being wholly discouraged and abandoning his cause. This miserable
contrivance, however, even if successful, could only afford a
momentary relief. Pyrrhus soon found that all hope and possibility of
retrieving his fortunes in Italy had entirely disappeared, and that no
alternative was left to him but to abandon the ground. So, pretending
to wonder why his allies did not send forward the succors which they
had promised in their letters, and saying that, since they were so
dilatory and remiss, he must go himself and bring them, but promising
that he would immediately return, he set sail from Tarentum, and,
crossing the sea, went home to his own kingdom. He arrived safely in
Epirus after an absence of six years.