READING HALL

THE DOORS OF WISDOM

HISTORY OF ROME. THE WAR FOR SUPREMACY IN THE WEST

CHAPTER VII.

THE SECOND PUNIC OR HANNIBALIAN WAR, 218-201 B.C.

First Period

from the beginning of the war to the battle of Cannae,218-216 B.C.

The treaty of peace which had put an end to the first Punic war in 241 B.C. was the inevitable result of the exhaustion of both the belligerent nations. It was satisfactory to neither. After the immense efforts and sacrifices which Rome had made in the twenty-three years of war, she found that the evacuation by the Carthaginians of a few fortresses in Sicily, and the payment of a sum of money, was a result not in accordance with the high hopes which seemed justified after the landing of Regulus in Africa, and after his first brilliant and unexpected victories. Yet the senate and the Roman people were not able to alter the terms of peace materially. By refusing to ratify the negotiations of the generals they succeeded in extorting from the Carthaginians a few thousand talents more, but nothing else. A further demand might have roused the spirit of the Carthaginians and have continued the war to an indefinite period. Accordingly, Rome contented herself with what she could get, and what was after all a great gain. When the war of the mercenaries broke out in Africa, she availed herself of the distress of Carthage to extort the cession of Sardinia, and an additional payment of 1,200 talents.

The disastrous termination of the Sicilian war could not fail to produce a great effect on the internal affairs of the Carthaginian republic. Unfortunately we have but a very imperfect knowledge of the public institutions of Carthage, and we can only guess what must have taken place on the occasion in question. But thus much seems certain, that the war with Rome, and still more the mutiny of the mercenaries, shook the power of the aristocracy. A war is, under all circumstances, a severe test for the constitution of a state. Whatever is unsound in the administration and government comes to light, and an unsuccessful war is frequently the cause of reforms, provided a people has still vital energy enough left to discover and to apply the remedies which it needs. This was the case in Carthage. In the war with the mercenaries, when the state could only he saved by the arms of its own citizens, when the people of Carthage were obliged to fight their own battles, they were justified in claiming for themselves a greater share in the government. A democratic movement took place, at the head of which we find Hamilcar Barcas, the most eminent statesman and soldier that Carthage possessed at that time. It is perfectly clear, even from the scanty reports preserved in the extant writers, that at the end of the Sicilian war Hamilcar found himself in opposition to the party which was then in possession of the government. He ceased to be commander-in-chief. In the perils of the war with the mercenaries, he again entered the service of the state. It was he to whom Carthage owed her deliverance from a ruin that seemed inevitable. His triumph in the field gave him the ascendancy over the aristocratic party and its leader, Hanno, surnamed the Great. It appears that from this time forward Hamilcar practically directed the government of Carthage, somewhat in the way in which Pericles had governed Athens, without interfering materially with the forms of the republican constitution. His accession to power was not unlike a change of ministry in a modern state. The party which had governed the state before, now formed the Opposition; as a matter of course, it became the party of peace when Hamilcar and his sons looked upon the renewal of the war with Rome as an inevitable necessity, and as the only chance for the preservation of liberty and independence. It is a proof no less of the high political qualities of the Carthaginians than of the magnanimity of Barcas and his house, that, under such circumstances, Carthage preserved her republican liberties, and was not overwhelmed by a military despotism.

The mutiny of the mercenaries was scarcely suppressed, and the revolted African subjects brought back to obedience, when Hamilcar directed his attention to a country where he could hope to find compensation for the loss of Sicily and Sardinia. This country was Spain, to which, from the remotest antiquity, Phoenician traders and settlers had been attracted, but which had hitherto not been conquered by the Carthaginian arms, or made subject, to any considerable extent, to Carthaginian authority.

The island town of Cades, situated beyond the pillars of Hercules in the outer sea, was older perhaps than Carthage herself. Its national sanctuary of the Phoenician Melkarth (Hercules) vied in importance and dignity with the temples of the mother country. The fertile plain of Andalusia, the old land of Tartessus, was celebrated for its wealth, and enriched at an early period the merchants of Tyre and Sidon. The abundance of precious metals in Spain attracted the skilful Phoenician miners, who knew how to work the mines with profit. No doubt Spain had been for ages of the greatest importance for the trade of Carthage; but as long as her possessions in Sicily and Sardinia absorbed her attention and her energies, it seems that Spain was not so much the object of the public, as of the private enterprise of the Carthaginian citizens, and that conquests in that country were not contemplated.

This was changed now after the war with Rome. Carthage began to extend her power and dominion in Spain, as England did in India after the loss of the American plantations. With an astounding rapidity she spread her possessions from a few isolated places on the coast over the southern half of the peninsula, and she appeared destined to establish the ascendancy of the Semitic race, and of Semitic culture, in a country where, nearly a thousand years later, the Arabs, a kindred Semitic people, succeeded in gaining a footing, and in reaching a high degree of civilisation. At the time of the Carthaginian conquest it seemed that Spain was about to be for ever separated politically from Europe, and to be united with North Africa, with which it has much in common through its geographical situation and its climate. Yet, owing to the events which we are now about to relate, the Punic conquest of Spain was of short duration, and left no traces behind except a few geographical names, like Cadiz and Carthagena; but the Moorish dominion, which lasted for more than seven hundred years, has left a stamp on the Spanish people which can even now be recognised, and not least in the religious fanaticism of which it was the principal cause.

For nine years Hamilcar worked with great success for the realisation of his plan, and a considerable portion of Spain was already subjected to the dominion of Carthage when he lost his life in battle. His son-in-law, Hasdrubal, raised to the command of the army by the voice of the soldiers and by the approval of the people of Carthage, proved himself a worthy successor of Hamilcar, though he extended and secured the dominion of Carthage less by force of arms than by persuasion and peaceful negotiations with the native races. He founded New Carthage (Carthagena), which he destined to be the capital of the new empire, as it was more favourably situated than Gades, and well suited to be a depot of arms and munitions of war for military undertakings in the central and eastern parts of Spain. The power and the influence of Carthage extended more and more northwards, and excited at last the attention and jealousy of Rome, which had for a time been apparently indifferent to the proceedings of the Carthaginians in the Pyrenaean peninsula. Hasdrubal was obliged to declare that Carthage would not extend her conquests beyond the river Ebro. At the same time the Romans entered into friendly relations with several Spanish tribes, and concluded a formal alliance with the important town of Saguntum, which, though situated a good way to the south of the Ebro, was intended to oppose, under Roman protection, a barrier to the further progress of the Carthaginians.

This was the state of affairs in Spain when in 221 B.C. Hasdrubal was cut off prematurely by the hand of an assassin. The universal voice of the Spanish army appointed as his successor Hannibal, the eldest son of Hamilcar Barcas, then only twenty-eight years old.

The Carthaginian people confirmed this choice, and by doing so placed their fate in the hands of an untried young man, of whom they might hope, but could not know, that he had the spirit of his father. But of one thing the Carthaginians might well be assured, that the son had inherited his father’s glowing hatred of Rome, and that with his ardent spirit he held as his sacred duty the task of avenging past wrongs, and of establishing the security and power of his native country on the ruins of the rival city. There can be no doubt that the people of Carthage shared the sentiments of Hamilcar’s family—that the loss of Sicily and Sardinia, whilst prompting feelings of revenge, convinced them that a lasting peace with Rome was impossible. They saw that even the twenty-four years of war in Sicily had not sufficed to fight out their quarrel, and that, sooner or later, the contest must be renewed. Every danger in which Carthage might possibly be involved, every war with foreign enemies, and every civil disturbance, might, to the faithless and ungenerous enemy, offer an opportunity for coming forward with new demands, and for extorting humiliating concessions. If this was the conviction of the Carthaginian people (and we have no reason to doubt it), they could not make a happier choice than in appointing Hannibal to the command in Spain. Never has a nation found a more fit and worthy representative. Never has the national will and spirit been embodied so completely and so nobly in one person, as in Hannibal was embodied the spirit and the will of Carthage. Even the low passion of hate seemed ennobled in a man who, in a lifelong, almost superhuman struggle with an overwhelming force, was animated and fired by it to persevere in a hopeless cause. No Roman ever gathered up and concentrated in himself so fully the great qualities of his nation as Hannibal did those of Carthage. We should only insult him if we were to compare him with Scipio, or any other of his contemporaries. Rome has produced but one man who can compare with Hannibal. And this Hannibal, so great and powerful, so nearly fatal to the greatness and the very existence of Rome, is, though a stranger, the first person we meet with in the history of Rome who inspires us with the feeling of personal interest, and with whose doings and sufferings we can sympathise. Before Hannibal appears 011 the historic stage, the shadowy figures of the Valerii, the Claudii, the Fabii, and hosts of other much-be praised Roman heroes of the good old time, leave us cold and indifferent. They have too little reality and too little individuality about them. They are eclipsed by the foreigner Pyrrhus. But the adventures of Pyrrhus belong only in part to the history of Rome. Hannibal’s whole life, on the contrary, was absorbed by his contest with the Roman people. He knew no other aim and aspiration than to lay Rome in the dust. Hence even the ancients have justly called the war, of which he was the life and soul, the ‘Hannibalian war’, and almost reluctantly have extolled his name, and inscribed it in imperishable letters on the tablets of history.

A more dangerous antagonist than Hannibal the Romans never encountered. A high-minded people, able to appreciate true greatness, would, at least after his fall, have been generous or just to such an enemy, and, by acknowledging his greatness, would have honoured itself. The Romans acted otherwise. Bitterly as they hated, reviled, and persecuted Carthage, the most deadly poison of their hatred they poured upon Hannibal; they did not hesitate to blacken his memory by the most revolting accusations, and they went so far as to hold him alone personally responsible for the calamities which the long war brought over Italy. This feeling of hostility to Hannibal suggested or confirmed the account which Fabius Pictor, the oldest Roman historian, gave of the origin of the war. Hannibal, it was said, began the war on his own responsibility, without the consent, nay, even against the wish of the government of Carthage. He began it for merely selfish purposes, to put an end to impeachments which his political opponents were at that time bringing forward against the friends of his father and his brother-in-law. The war was therefore not a war of the Carthaginian people with Rome, but a war of Hannibal and his party, undertaken in the interest of this party and of the family of Hamilcar Barcas. Even the expedition to Spain had, according to this view, been undertaken by Hamilcar, without the approbation and authority of the government, for the purpose of avoiding and baffling the impending inquiry into his conduct in Sicily. Hasdrubal showed the same contempt of the constituted authorities. He founded for himself an empire in Spain, independent of Carthage, and he entertained the design of overthrowing the republic, and of making himself king. The government was not strong enough to curb and control the men of the house of Barcas. It was dragged into the war with Rome against its will, and in spite of its conviction that the war would be pernicious to the state; but, though unable to prevent the war, the government of Carthage punished Hannibal by refusing or stinting the supplies or reinforcements which he wanted to carry his Italian campaign to a victorious end.

Polybius has, in a few words, exposed the utter absurdity of a view like this. ‘If,’ he says, ‘Hannibal had been a mutinous general, and determined, for his own personal interests, to involve his country in a war which the government was anxious to avoid, how did it happen that the latter did not seize the opportunity of getting rid of such a dangerous citizen, when, after the fall of Saguntum, the Romans demanded that he should he given up to them?’. But the Carthaginian senate, far from sacrificing or even disowning him, approved his actions as with one voice, accepted and returned with enthusiasm the Roman declaration of war, and carried on this war for seventeen years, until the state was exhausted and compelled to sue for peace.

When, after the war with the mercenaries, Carthage was enfeebled and crippled, and Rome, in utter defiance of justice, had availed herself of the distress of her old rival to deprive her of Sardinia, then it was that Hamilcar Barcas devoted himself and his house to the service of the avenging goddess, and planned the war with Rome. He left his native town to lay in Spain the foundation of a new colonial empire of Carthage, and when he was offering up sacrifice at the altar of the tutelary god of the Carthaginian people and was praying for his divine protection, he bade his son Hannibal, then a boy of nine years, lay his hands on the altar and swear that he would always be the enemy of Rome. He took him to Spain; he brought him up in his camp, to prepare him for the task for which he had destined him, and he sacrificed his life to save that of his son. For eight years Hannibal served under his brother-in-law Hasdrubal. His military bearing made him the idol of the army. Then, in the full vigour of life, and still in all the freshness of youth, he was summoned, by the confidence of his comrades, and by the unanimous voice of the Carthaginian people, to take the command of the army and to carry out the policy of his father.

Twenty years had elapsed since the peace of 241 B.C. With wonderful energy and success Carthage had recovered from her misfortunes. The government was no longer in the hands of the oligarchy; the popular party was at the head of affairs, and was led by the men of the house of Barcas. An extensive territory had been conquered in Spain. The Iberian tribes, subjected by force of arms or conciliated by peaceful negotiations and readily submitting to Carthaginian authority, furnished for the army an abundant supply of volunteers or compulsory recruits in place of the inconstant Gallic mercenaries, of whom the Carthaginian army was mainly composed in the first war. The Libyan subjects were reduced to obedience, and furnished excellent foot soldiers. The Numidians, more closely united with Carthage than ever before, by the military genius and the policy of Hamilcar and Hasdrubal, supplied a light cavalry that could not be matched by the Romans. The finances had to some extent recovered, in spite of the heavy contributions of war exacted by Rome, amounting to 4,400 talents. The time was come when Carthage might hope to renew the contest with a fair hope of final victory. The Romans, like the Carthaginians, looked upon the peace of 241 b.c. as only an armistice, but they very much underrated the strength of their conquered rival. They regarded Carthage as so thoroughly broken and exhausted that they might at pleasure resume the war at any time most convenient for them. They were prepared to do so after the termination of the war with the mercenaries; but the readiness with which Carthage in that time of depression submitted to the humiliating conditions imposed as the price of peace averted an open rupture, while the resignation of the Carthaginians being interpreted as an unmistakable sign of weakness strengthened the conviction that for the future also Carthage would be unable to offer a long or determined resistance. The Romans had, probably, but an imperfect knowledge of the great advance which the Carthaginian power had made by its conquests in Spain, still less were they informed of the invigoration of the political system of Carthage by the triumph of the democracy and the ascendancy of the family of Barcas. Rome was therefore in no hurry to follow up the policy struck out in the first Punic war. She was the more inclined to delay as this war had dealt severe blows to Italy, and had caused losses which time had not yet repaired. Moreover, the acquisition of Sardinia was followed by almost uninterrupted hostilities with the stubborn inhabitants of that island, and by similar petty wars in Corsica and Liguria—wars which, though unimportant in themselves, were yet sufficient to withdraw the attention of the Romans from other quarters. The Illyrian war (221) B.C.) was a far more serious affair, especially as it engaged the whole Roman fleet. But it was more especially the long threatened war with the Gauls (225 B.C.) which procured for Carthage a temporary respite and a continuance of the peace with Rome. This war lasted for four years. It came to an end just before the death of Hasdrubal, and even then it was ended only in appearance. The resistance of the Gauls in the valley of the Po was broken in 221 B.C., and the Romans set about securing the possession of the land by establishing the two colonies of Placentia and Cremona on the Po. Now, at last, the time seemed to have arrived when Rome could devote herself to the settlement of her old dispute with her rival for supremacy in the western Mediterranean.

During the last few years the attention of the Romans had been drawn to the progress of the Carthaginians in Spain. Spanish tribes and towns which dreaded annexation to the Carthaginian province applied for assistance to Rome. The result of this application was the treaty by which Hasdrubal had pledged himself to confine his conquests within the Ebro. Another result was the alliance between Rome and Saguntum. According to the conditions of the peace of 241 B.C. the allies of either of the two contracting states were not to be molested by the other. It is true that Saguntum was not the ally of Rome at the time when that peace was concluded. But, nevertheless, it was evident that Rome could not be debarred from concluding new alliances, and it appeared a matter of course that she must and would afford her protection no less to her new allies than to the old. If the Carthaginians questioned or disregarded this claim of Rome, the peace was broken, and no appeal was left but to arms. No doubt could exist on this subject either at Rome or at Carthage.

Immediately upon his appointment to the command of the army, Hannibal was anxious to begin the war with Rome, and the time have been extremely favourable, as in the year 221 B.C. Rome was still sufficiently occupied with the Gauls. But he was obliged to make ample preparations before undertaking so serious an enterprise, and moreover the Carthaginian possessions in Spain had to be enlarged and secured, so as to serve as a proper basis for his operations. He also wished, no doubt, to feel and try the extent of his power over the army and of his authority at home; to familiarize himself with the troops who were destined to carry out his bold conceptions—to seat himself firmly in the saddle and to try the mettle of his steed. He therefore devoted the years 221 and 220 to the task of subduing some tribes south of the Ebro, training his army, inspiring his men with confidence in his command, enriching them with booty and thus heightening their zeal, and finally of providing for the security of Spain and Africa during his absence.

All these preparations were made by the beginning of the year 210 B.C. The first object of his attack was Saguntum, the rich, powerful, and well-fortified town to the south of the Ebro, which had lately sought and obtained the Roman alliance. The Saguntines boasted of Greek origin, and called themselves descendants of colonists from the island of Zakynthos—an assertion for which, in all probability, they had no authority beyond the similarity of the two names. They appear to have been genuine Iberians, like the other nations in Spain, and to have had no more affinity with the Greeks than could be claimed by the Romans. At that time, when the Romans acted as protectors and liberators of the Greeks in the Adriatic and Ionian Seas, and when they began to pride themselves on their assumed descent from Homeric heroes, the Grecian name was a welcome pretext and a means for obtaining political advantages. But even without this pretext the alliance of Saguntum was of sufficient importance to Rome.

It was admirably situated and adapted for a base of operations against the Carthaginian possessions in Spain, and could answer the purpose which Messana had served in Sicily. At any rate it might be made a barrier against the further advance of the Carthaginians, and with this view it had been received into Roman protection while Hasdrubal commanded in Spain.

The Roman senate felt convinced that a warning would at once he followed by an abandonment of the Carthaginian designs on Saguntum, which of late had become more manifest, and of which the Saguntines had repeatedly informed the senate. It accordingly dispatched an embassy to Hannibal (in 219 B.C.) to point out the consequences if he persisted in hostilities against the friends and clients of the Roman people. But Hannibal made no secret of his intentions. He told the ambassadors that the alliance between Saguntum and Rome was no reason why he should not treat the former as an independent state; that he had as much right as the Romans to interfere in the internal affairs of Saguntum, and in case of necessity to defend that town from the usurped protectorate of Rome. A similar answer was given to the ambassadors by the senate of Carthage, whither they had proceeded from Hannibal’s camp.

The Romans knew now that they had no longer to deal with the peace-loving, yielding Hasdrubal, nor with a broken-spirited people who recoiled with terror from even the threat of war. Now was the time, if they meant seriously to stand up for their new allies, to send forthwith a fleet and an army to Spain, and this was demanded by their own interest as well as by that of the Saguntines. But they did not stir during the whole of this year, and left the despairing Saguntines to their fate. Hannibal, at no loss for a pretext to declare war against Saguntum, laid regular siege to the town in the spring of the year 219 B.C. But the Saguntines resisted with the obstinacy and determination which have at all times characterised Spanish towns. For eight months all the efforts of the besiegers were in vain. Hannibal’s military genius was of little avail in the slow operations of a regular siege, where success depends not so much on rapid resolutions and bold combinations as on stubborn perseverance in a methodical plan. The eight months of tedious, harassing, and bloody fighting for the possession of Saguntum were calculated to disgust Hannibal with all siege operations, and we find that during all his campaigns in Italy he undertook them unwillingly, and persevered only in one with any degree of firmness. It is probable that the hope of Roman succour braced the courage of the Saguntines and protracted their defence. But as this hope in the end proved vain, the resistance of the brave defenders of the doomed town was borne down. Saguntum was taken by storm, and suffered the fate of the conquered. The surviving inhabitants were distributed as slaves among the soldiers of the victorious army, the articles of value were sent to Carthage, the ready money was applied to the preparations for the impending campaign.

Now that the war had in fact begun, the Romans sent another embassy to Carthage, as if they still thought it possible to preserve peace. But their demands were such that they might safely have dispatched an army at the same time, for they could not expect that the Carthaginians would listen to them. The Roman ambassadors required that Hannibal and the committee of senators which accompanied the army should be given up to them as a sign that the Carthaginian commonwealth had taken no part in, and did not approve of the violence done to the allies of Rome. But the authorities at Carthage were far from ignominiously sacrificing their general, and submitting themselves to Roman mercy and generosity. They endeavoured to show that the attack on Saguntum did not involve a rupture of the peace with Rome, because, when that peace was concluded by Hamilcar and Catulus in 241 B.C., Saguntum was not yet numbered among the allies of Rome, and could not therefore be included among those whom Carthage had undertaken to leave unmolested. The Roman ambassadors declined to discuss the question of right or wrong, and insisted on the simple acceptance of their demands. At last, after a long altercation, the chief of the embassy, Quintus Fabius Maximus, gathering up the folds of his toga, exclaimed: ‘Here I carry peace and war; say, ye men of Carthage, which you choose’. ‘We accept whatever you give us’, was the answer. ‘Then we give you war,’ replied Fabius, spreading out his toga; and without another word he left the senate-house, amid the boisterous exclamations of the assembly that they welcomed war, and would wage it with the spirit which animated them in accepting it.

Thus the war was resolved upon and declared on both sides—a war which stands forth in the annals of the ancient world without a parallel. It was not a war about a disputed boundary, about the possession of a province, or some partial advantage; it was a struggle for existence, for supremacy or destruction. It was to decide whether the Graeco-Roman civilisation of the West or the Semitic civilisation of the East was to be established in Europe, and to determine its history for all future time. The war was one of those in which Asia struggled with Europe, like the war of the Greeks and Persians, the conquests of Alexander the Great, the wars of the Arabs, the Huns, and the Tartars. Whatever may be our admiration of Hannibal, and our sympathy with heroic and yet defeated Carthage, we shall nevertheless be obliged to acknowledge that the victory of Rome—the issue of this trial by battle—was the most essential condition for the healthy development of the human race.

Since the first war with Carthage, the strength of Rome had materially increased. At the time when the war broke out in Sicily, ten years had scarcely passed since the completion of the conquest of Italy. In Samnium, Lucania, and Apulia the generation still lived which had measured its strength with Rome in the long struggle for supremacy and independence. The memory of all the Roman sufferings during the war, the humiliation of defeat, the old animosity and hatred were yet alive in their hearts.

Now, however, after the lapse of sixty years, a new generation had grown up in Italy, which was a living part of the body of the Roman people, and had given up all idea of carrying on a separate existence. In a hundred battles the conquered nations of Italy had fought and bled by the side of the Romans. An Italo-Roman national feeling had grown up in the wars in which Romans and Italians had confronted Libyans, Gauls, and Illyrians. Where could the peoples of Italy find the enjoyments, hopes, and blessings of national life, except in their union with Rome?

In an economical point of view, the supremacy of Rome was, for the Italians, a compensation for the loss of their independence. It had put a stop to an intolerable evil—tribes, the endless disputes and wars, which appear to be inseparable from small communities of imperfect civilisation. The calamities of a great war, like that in Sicily between Rome and Carthage, strike the imagination by the great battles, the sacrifices, and losses on a large scale which characterise them; but the everlasting paltry feuds of neighbours, accompanied by pillage, burning, devastation, and murder in every direction, cause a much larger amount of human suffering, especially where, as in Italy at that time, every man is a warrior, every stranger an enemy, every enemy a robber, and all look upon war as a source of profit. This deplorable state of things had ceased in Italy after the supremacy of Rome was established. Henceforth, it was alone the Roman people that waged war, and the theatre of war had mostly been beyond the confines of Italy. When the nations of Italy had furnished their contingents and contributed their share to the expenses of the war, they could till their fields in peace, without fearing that a hostile band would suddenly break in upon them, set fire to the standing corn, cut down the fruit trees, drive away the cattle, and carry off their wives and children into slavery. Only the districts near the coast had been alarmed by the Carthaginians during the first war; but the interior regions had been quite exempt from hostile attacks; and, even on the coast, the numerous Roman colonies had offered protection from the worst evils of war.

The public burthens which the allies of Rome had to bear were moderate. They paid no direct taxes. The military service was no hardship for a warlike population, especially as there was always a chance of gaining booty. The Greek cities were principally charged with furnishing ships. The other allies sent contingents to the Roman army, which, in the aggregate, seldom amounted to a greater number of men than were furnished by Rome itself. In the field these troops were victualled by the Roman state, and were therefore no source of expense to the allies. If we bear in mind that the different Italian communities enjoyed, for the most part, perfect freedom and self-government in the management of their own affairs, and that everywhere the leading men found their authority increased by their intimate connection with the Roman nobility, we can easily understand that, in the beginning of the Hannibalian war, the whole of Italy was firmly united, and formed a striking contrast to the Carthaginian state with its discontented subjects and inconstant allies.

Of the state of the population of Italy in the period before the second Punic war, we are tolerably well informed. Polybius relates that at the time when the Gauls threatened to invade Etruria (in 225 B.C.) a general census was taken of the military forces of which Rome might dispose in case of war, and that the number of men capable of hearing arms amounted to 770,000. If this statement is, on the whole, to be trusted, not only for the accuracy of the information originally obtained by the officers employed in the census, but for the faithful preservation of the official numbers by the historians, we can infer from it that at the time in question, i.e. shortly before the appearance of Hannibal in Italy, the population of the peninsula was nearly as great as it is at the present day, and that it amounted to about 9,000,000 in those parts which then were included in the name of Italy, i.e. the peninsula south of Liguria and Transalpine Gaul, and exclusive of the islands.

The Carthaginian statesmen had a just appreciation of the dangers involved in a war with Rome. The Roman armies were composed of citizens accustomed to the use of arms, and of faithful allies equally warlike and equally brave. Forces like these they could not match, either in quantity or quality. The citizens of Carthage were neither so numerous as those of Rome, nor available for service beyond Africa. The subjects and allies were not very trustworthy. The Libyans and Numidians had only just been reduced again to submission, after a sanguinary war the Spaniards were hardly broken to the yoke, and served rather the generals than the commonwealth of Carthage. The ancient undoubted superiority of the Carthaginian navy was gone. Rome was now mistress of the western Mediterranean, as well by her fleets as through the possession of all the harbours in Italy, Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, and even on the coast of Illyria. In the basin of the Tyrrhenian Sea, in the Adriatic and Ionian Seas, maritime operations on a large scale were very hazardous for Carthage, as nowhere was a single port open to them. They could interrupt the Roman communications, capture transports and trading vessels, harass and alarm the coasts of Italy; but this kind of piratical warfare could not lead to great results. In her finances Carthage was no longer what she had been. Her resources had been drained in the long wars in Sicily and Africa, and the war indemnities exacted by Rome were felt even by the wealthy state of the Punic merchants to be a heavy burden. The new conquests in Spain, it is true, had brought some relief. But the loss of Sicily and the hostility of Rome had, to a great extent, paralysed trade. Even before the end of the Sicilian war, it is clear that the financial resources of Carthage had begun to fail. The equipment of the fleet, which was routed at the Aegatian Islands, had absorbed all the means left at the disposal of the state. When this great and supreme effort had failed, peace had become absolutely necessary. The war with the mercenaries was provoked by the unseasonable but necessary illiberality with which the claims of the soldiers for overdue, pay and promised compensations were met. If Spain had not yielded a rich return beyond paying for the military enterprises of Hamilcar and Hasdrubal, it would have been hard for Carthage to recover strength for a new contest. As it was, her financial weakness must have been the principal cause of the slowness and inefficiency which she displayed in sending reinforcements to Hannibal.

Thus, with her own strength alone, Carthage could scarcely hope to meet her hated and dreaded antagonist on equal terms. It was necessary to secure allies, and the events of the last few years seemed in the highest degree favourable for organising in different quarters a combined action against Rome. Above all Hannibal reckoned upon the cooperation of the Gauls in the north of Italy. In spite of their defeats in Etruria and on the Po, they were far from being broken, dispirited, or reconciled. On the contrary, the attempt of the Romans to establish colonies in their country provoked their renewed hostility. If these Gauls, with their rude undisciplined, ill-armed hordes alone, were able to jeopardize the Roman supremacy and to shake the foundations of the Roman empire, what might not Hannibal expect to accomplish with their aid, if he regulated their impetuous bravery, and ranged them among his highly disciplined Libyan and Spanish soldiers? The Gauls had not yet ceased to be the terror of southern Europe. Even as mercenaries they excelled in many military qualities. Fighting in their own cause, defending their own homes, they might, in a good military school, become invincible.

These hopes hastened the resolution of Carthage to renew the war, and determined the plan of the campaign. The land of the Gauls in the north of Italy was to be the basis of Hannibal’s operations, and the Gaulish warriors were to fight under his standards. The spoliation and plunder of Italy was to pay for the expenses of the war. It was this consideration which determined Hannibal to march across the Pyrenees and the Alps into the country of the Insubrians and Boians, on the Po, where he was expected with impatience. He had for some time past been in negotiation with these peoples. They had supplied him with information regarding the Alpine passes, and bad promised guides; and he reckoned on their strenuous assistance when he undertook that enterprise which filled the whole world with astonishment and admiration.

The Gauls were not the only allies that Hannibal hoped to find in Italy. He knew that a hostile army was sure to be welcomed in Africa by the discontented subjects of Carthage. At the time of Agathokles, during the invasion of Regulus, and during the mutiny of the mercenaries, the Libyans and Numidians—nay, on one occasion, even the kindred citizens of Utica—had made common cause with the enemies of Carthage. Hannibal hoped in like manner to gain the adhesion of the Marsians, the Samnites, Campanians, Lucanians, and Bruttians, perhaps even of the Latins, if he should be able, by brilliant victories, to banish their fear of the power and vengeance of Rome. He did not know how firmly these peoples were united with Rome, and perhaps he forgot that his alliance with the Gauls, the common enemies of all Italy, was calculated to make his friendship suspected.

Not in Italy alone, but also beyond the confines of Italy, the Carthaginians hoped to find allies for an attack upon Rome. Antigonus, the king of Macedonia, watched with uneasiness the aggressive policy of the Romans, and their interference in the affairs of the Greek states. A Roman party in these states could not but be hostile to Macedonia. It was natural, therefore, that he should be ready to oppose the Romans. He had already instigated Demetrius of Pharos to the war with Rome, and after his expulsion from Illyria he had received him at his court, and refused to surrender him to the Romans. Messengers went backwards and forwards between Macedonia and Carthage, and Hannibal was justified in hoping that the first great victory would secure his active cooperation in a war with Rome.

These plans, negotiations, and preparations occupied Hannibal during the period from the winter of 219 to 218 B.C. He had, moreover, to provide for the military defence of Spain and Africa during his absence. He sent a body of 15,000 Spaniards to Carthage, and an equal force of Libyans from Africa to Spain, making the troops serve at the same time as hostages to guarantee the fidelity of their countrymen. On the approach of winter he had allowed his Spanish troops to go home on furlough, feeling sure that they would be the more ready to join him again for the following campaign in spring. The plunder of Saguntum had stimulated their eagerness to serve under the Carthaginian general, and they were ready to try again the fortune of war under such a victorious and liberal leader.

When in the spring of 218 B.C., Hannibal had again collected his army and made all the necessary preparations, he set out on his march from New Carthage, rather later, it may be supposed, than he had originally intended —in the beginning of summer. His force consisted of ninety thousand foot, twelve thousand horse, and thirty-seven elephants. Until he reached the Ebro, his road passed through the territory of tribes that had already submitted to Carthage. But the land between the Ebro and the Pyrenees was inhabited by independent and hostile peoples, who resisted the advance of the Carthaginian army. Hannibal, who had no time to lose, sacrificed a considerable portion of his army for the purpose of quickly forcing his way through this country, and he succeeded in his plan, at the cost of losing twenty thousand men. Having reached the Pyrenees, he left his brother Hasdrubal and ten thousand men to defend the newly conquered territory. An equal number of Spanish soldiers he dismissed to their homes, finding that they were reluctant to accompany him, and preferring to take with him a smaller army of chosen and devoted warriors than a large discontented host. Thus his forces were reduced to fifty thousand foot and nine thousand horse with the elephants, when he crossed the Pyrenees by some pass near the Mediterranean, apparently without encountering any serious difficulty. The Gaulish tribes living between the Pyrenees and the Rhone did not oppose the march. It was only when Hannibal arrived at the Rhone that he encountered any resistance. The Gauls in that part of the country had assembled a force on the left, or eastern, bank of the river, and endeavoured to prevent the passage. Hannibal was obliged to halt a few days before he could cross. He sent a detachment under Hanno higher up the river to an undefended place, where they crossed without difficulty on rapidly constructed rafts; meanwhile he collected all the vessels that could be procured, caused trees to be felled and hollowed out for canoes, and when, on the third day, the fire signals of Hanno announced that he had arrived in the rear of the Gauls, he forced the passage. The Gauls, attacked in front and rear, made no long resistance. On the fifth day after his arrival on the Rhone, Hannibal had gained the left bank, and caused the elephants and heavy baggage to be ferried over on rafts.

The passage of the Rhone was not yet quite accomplished when intelligence arrived which showed that the utmost dispatch was necessary, unless the whole plan for the ensuing campaign was to be upset at the very beginning. A. Roman army had landed at Massilia, and was now only four days’ march from the mouths of the Rhone. A collision with the Romans in Gaul, even if it had led to the most brilliant victory, would have detained Hannibal so long that the passage of the Alps would have been impossible before the winter had set in. It was already the beginning of October, and in a short time the mountains would be impassable; and if the Alps were not crossed before the winter, the Romans would probably block up the passes, and Africa, instead of Italy, would become the theatre of war.

The Roman embassy which had demanded satisfaction in Carthage for the attack on Saguntum, and had formally declared war, had not been dispatched from Rome, as might have been expected, immediately after the fall of Saguntum in the course of the year 219, but in the following spring. The same slowness which the Romans had exhibited in their diplomatic action they showed in the actual preparations for war. They had evidently no conception of Hannibal's plan for the ensuing campaign, nor of the rapidity with which his ardent spirit worked. The Romans flattered themselves with the idea that they would be able to choose their own time to begin hostilities, and to select the theatre of war. They waited quietly for the return of the ambassadors from Spain, whither they had proceeded from Carthage, for the purpose of making themselves acquainted with the state of affairs and of encouraging the friends of Rome to persevere in their fidelity. Then the two customary consular armies were levied in the usual manner; the one destined, under the command of Tiberius Sempronius Longus, to be sent to Sicily, and from thence to cross over into Africa to attack the Carthaginians in their own country; the other, under Publius Cornelius Scipio, to act against Hannibal in Spain. The Romans hoped to carry on the war with four legions, little thinking that twenty would not suffice.

Meanwhile they were busily engaged in completing the conquest of Northern Italy. Two new strongholds, the colonies of Placentia and Cremona, had been established there for the purpose of keeping the country in subjection. Each of them had received a garrison of six thousand colonists. Three commissioners, among them the consular Lutatius, who had gained the decisive victory at the Aegatian Islands (in 241 B.C.), were engaged in assigning the land to the colonists, and in making the necessary arrangements for the administration of the new communities, when they were suddenly surprised, in the spring of 218 B.C., by a new rising of the Boians. These people, who saw their land distributed to Roman colonists, felt in the highest degree alarmed and exasperated, and could not restrain their impatience nor wait for the arrival of Hannibal. They fell upon the colonists in different parts of the country, forced them to take refuge in the fortified town of Mutina, and laid siege to the town. Under the pretext of wishing to negotiate, they succeeded in inducing the three commissioners to come out of the town for a conference, seized them treacherously, and held them as a security for the safety of the hostages which they had been obliged to give to the Romans on the conclusion of peace.

Upon the news of these events, the praetor Lucius Manlius, who commanded a legion at Ariminum, marched in all haste towards Mutina; but he was surprised in the midst of the dense forests which, at that time, covered those plains, was repulsed with great loss, and blockaded in a village called Tanetum, on the Po, where he threw up earthworks for his defence. Thus the whole of Northern Italy was again in a state of insurrection. The Romans had not succeeded in extinguishing the fire in their own house before the enemy attacked it from without. The danger within was even more alarming than the foreign war, which might possibly be delayed. It was therefore resolved at Rome to send the two recently levied legions, which Scipio was to have led into Spain, immediately to the Po, and to raise, in their place, two new legions for the service in Spain against Hannibal. This measure tended, of course, to delay the departure of Scipio considerably, and it enabled Hannibal to gain a start, and to carry out his original plan of avoiding a collision with the Romans until he should have reached Italy.

When at length, probably late in the summer of 218 B.C., Scipio’s legions were formed, he embarked and sailed along the coast of Etruria and Liguria to the mouths of the Rhone, on his way to Spain. But on reaching Massilia he was surprised by the news that Hannibal, whom he expected to encounter in Spain, had crossed the Ebro and the Pyrenees, and was on his march towards the Rhone. This was the first intimation which the Romans had of Hannibal’s plan. But even yet Scipio was in doubt. If Hannibal intended to attack Italy from the north, the coast road to Genoa, and through the country of the Ligurians, was the nearest. Scipio knew not for certain that Hannibal intended to cross the Alps, nor which pass he would choose. To make sure about this he sent a squadron of horse along the left bank of the Rhone to look out for Hannibal. If he had arrived in Gaul only a few days earlier, so as to be able to dispute the passage of the Rhone, he might have baffled Hannibal’s plan. As it was, his horsemen soon met a party of Numidian cavalry coming down the river to reconnoitre. A skirmish took place, and the Romans, on their return, boasted that they had had the better against superior numbers. The news they brought sufficed to show that Scipio had come too late, and that Hannibal had already gained the left bank of the river. Nevertheless, Scipio marched northwards with his whole force, hoping perhaps that Hannibal would turn southwards to meet him. But when he had reached the spot where Hannibal had crossed the Rhone, and heard that the Carthaginian army had marched towards the interior of Gaul, he saw that it was useless to advance further, and was no longer doubtful about the plan of his opponent to penetrate across the Alps into Northern Italy. He therefore returned forthwith to Massilia, ordered his brother Cneius to continue with the legions the voyage to Spain, and returned himself with a small detachment to Genoa, whence he hastened to the Po to take the command of the troops assembled there, and to attack Hannibal immediately after his descent from the mountains.

Nothing proves more the boldness and grandeur of Hannibal’s enterprise than the fact that the Romans not suspect it until he had all but reached the foot of the Alps. In spite of the repeated warnings and the varied information which they had received from their friends in Spain, from the Massaliots and the neighbouring Gauls, it had never occurred to them that Hannibal might possibly venture upon such a plan. It was, indeed, well known to them that the Alps were not absolutely impassable. The numerous swarms of Gauls that had invaded Italy had found their way across the mountains. But the Gauls dwelt on both sides of the Alps; they were at home among the precipitous rocks and the snow mountains; and if irregular troops, unencumbered with heavy baggage, might find their way through these wild regions, it by no means followed that an army of Spaniards, Libyans, Numidian horse, and even elephants would attempt to scale those mountain walls, where they would have to encounter the terrors of nature and of hostile tribes at the same time. When Hannibal, nevertheless, undertook the enterprise, and carried it to a successful end, the impression he produced was deep and lasting, and the exploit was looked upon as hardly short of miraculous. Historians delighted in painting and exaggerating the obstacles with which Hannibal had to contend, the savage character of the mountaineers no less than the terrors of nature. Polybius censures these descriptions, which, as he remarks, tend to represent Hannibal, not as a wise and cautious general, but as a reckless adventurer. Before carrying out his plan, says Polybius, he made careful inquiries respecting the nature of the country through which he had to march, the sentiments of the inhabitants, and the length and condition of the road. His conviction that the enterprise would be difficult and dangerous, but not impossible, was justified by the event. But it seems certain that if Hannibal, as no doubt he expected, had been able to commence his march a month earlier, his loss in crossing the Alps would have been considerably less.

As soon as Hannibal had the whole of his army, inclusive of the elephants and the baggage, on the left bank of the Rhone, he marched northwards, and reached in four days the confluence of the Rhone and the Isere. The country lying between these two rivers was called the ‘Island,’ and was inhabited by the Allobrogians, one of the largest and bravest Gallic tribes. On his arrival Hannibal found the natives engaged in a dispute between two brothers for the chieftainship. He favoured the claims of the elder brother, and by his interference quickly settled the dispute, gaining thereby the friendship and support of the new chief. His army was amply supplied with food, shoes, warm clothing, and new arms, and was accompanied by the friendly tribe until it reached the foot of the Alps.

It is, even to the present day, an unsolved question by which road Hannibal marched to and across the Alps, although Polybius describes it at full length, and was well qualified to do so, having, only fifty years after Hannibal, travelled over the same ground, with a view of giving a description of it in his great historical work.

But the descriptions which the ancient writers give of localities are, for the most part, exceedingly defective and obscure. Even from Caesar's own narrative we cannot make out with certainty where he crossed the Rhine and the Thames, and where he landed on the coast of Britain. The imperfect geographical knowledge possessed by the ancients, their erroneous notions of the form and extent of countries, of the direction of rivers and mountain- ranges with regard to the four cardinal points, in some measure account for these inaccuracies. Not being accustomed, from their youth upwards, to have accurate maps before their eyes, they grew up with indistinct conceptions, and were almost accustomed to a loose and incorrect mode of expression when speaking of such matters. But it seems that, apart from this imperfect knowledge of geography, they lacked the keen observation of nature which distinguishes the moderns. As they seem all but insensible to the beauties of landscapes, they were careless in the examination and study of nature; and their descriptions of scenery are seldom such that we can draw an accurate map or picture after them, or identify the localities at the present time. Moreover, the permanent features of landscapes—the mountains, rivers, glens, lakes, and plains—had seldom names universally known and generally current, as is the case at present; nor were there accurate measurements of distances, heights of mountains, the width of passes, and the like. Where, in addition to these defects, there were even wanting human habitations, towns or tillages with well-known and recognisable names, it became impossible to describe a route like that of Hannibal across the Alps with an accuracy that excludes all doubts.

Thus it has happened that every Alpine pass, from that of Mont Genevre to the Simplon, has in turn been declared to have been the one by which Hannibal crossed into Italy. Nobody can settle this question satisfactorily who has not travelled over every pass himself. We must leave this investigation to an Alpine traveller with sufficient leisure and enthusiasm, and meanwhile confine ourselves, under the guidance of Polybius, the oldest and most trustworthy witness, to find a road which has possibility and probability in its favour, though, perhaps, absolute certainty is unattainable.

The distances given by Polybius leave, in reality, only a doubt whether Hannibal crossed by the Little St. Bernard or by the Mont Cenis. It is becoming now more and more the universal opinion that Hannibal made use of the former of these two routes. This was the usual road by which the Gallic tribes in the valley of the Po communicated with their countrymen in Transalpine Gaul. By this pass alone they could obtain auxiliaries, as they often did from beyond the Alps; for the territory of the Salassians, their friends and allies, extended to the foot of this pass on the Italian side, whilst the Mont Cenis pass led into the country of their enemies, the Ligurian tribe of the Taurini. The guides whom the Insubrians had sent to Hannibal, and who had promised to conduct him by a safe road, could not possibly advise him to take the road of Mont Cenis. It seems therefore highly probable that Hannibal marched over the pass of the Little St. Bernard. But now another difficulty arises, viz., that of determining by which road he reached this pass from the ‘Island’ of the Allobrogians. The shortest and easiest way seems to be that along the river Isere, which leads almost to the foot of the pass. But the distances given by Polybius are at variance with this route; and, moreover, when he says that Hannibal marched ‘along the river,’ he can only have meant the Rhone, and not the Isere. It seems therefore the most probable view, that Hannibal followed the course of the Rhone, avoiding, however, the sharp bindings, until he reached the spot where the mountains of Savoy (the Mont du Chat) approach the river—that he crossed this chain of mountains, and marched past the present town of Chambery in a southern direction until he reached the Isere again at Montmelian, and followed its course to the foot of the Little St. Bernard.

For ten days the army marched over level ground without encountering any difficulty. The Allobrogian chiefs, who, as it seems, were not averse to plunder, dreaded the cavalry of Hannibal and his Gaulish escort. But when the latter had returned home, and Hannibal entered the defiles of the mountains, he found the road blocked up by the mountaineers in a place where force could avail nothing. He was informed by his guides that the enemy were accustomed to keep the heights guarded only by day, and to retire in the night to their neighbouring town. He therefore caused his light-armed troops to occupy the pass in the night. The attacks of the barbarians, who returned on the following day and harassed the slowly advancing long line of march, were repulsed without much difficulty.

Yet Hannibal lost a number of beasts of burden and a good deal of his baggage, the latter being no doubt the principal object of the barbarians. Fortunately many of the animals and some prisoners were recovered in the town which lay near the pass, and which contained also provisions for a few days.

Having given his troops one day of rest, Hannibal continued his march. On the fourth day the natives met him with branches of trees in their hands as a sign of friendliness, and requested him to march through their land without doing them any injury. They brought cattle, and offered hostages as proofs of their sincerity. Hannibal suspected that all these signs of devotion were insincere, and intended to lull him into security. Therefore, though he accepted their offers, he provided against treachery, sent his baggage and cavalry in advance, and covered the march with his infantry. Thus the cumbersome portion of the army passed through the most difficult places, and was in tolerable security, when, on the third day, the faithless barbarians rushed to the attack, rolled and threw stones from both sides of the narrow pass, and killed a great number of men and animals. Hannibal was compelled to spend a night away from his baggage and cavalry. But this was the last time that the mountaineers seriously attempted to obstruct his march. From this time forward they ventured only on isolated acts of plunder, and soon after Hannibal reached the summit of the pass, on the ninth day after he had commenced the ascent.

It was now nearly the end of October, and the ground was already covered with fresh fallen snow. No wonder that the men born under the burning sun of Africa, or in the genial climate of Spain, felt their hearts sink within them in those chill and dreary regions, when they measured the hardships that still awaited them with those which they had endured. Hannibal endeavoured to raise their courage by directing their eyes towards Italy, which lay expanded at their feet like a promised land, the goal of their hopes and the reward of their perseverance. Then, after a rest of two days, the downward march began. This was no farther molested by any hostile attack; but the obstacles which nature presented were greater. The snow covered dangerous places, and, breaking under the feet of the men, hurled many into precipices. One portion of the road had been made impassable, and was partly broken away, by avalanches. In the attempt to pass by a side-way over a glacier, the tramp of the army soon reduced the recent snow to a slush, and on the ice which was under the snow the men slipped, whilst the horses broke through with their hoofs and remained fixed in it. Hannibal was obliged to halt, and to repair the broken part of the road. The whole army was set to work, and thus one day sufficed to restore the road sufficiently for horses and beasts of burden to pass. But three more days passed before the Numidians succeeded in making the road broad and firm enough for the elephants. When at length this last obstacle was overcome, the army passed from the region of snow into the lower and gentler slopes, and in three more days it encamped at the foot of the Alps.

Thus, at length, Hannibal accomplished his task, but at a cost which made it doubtful whether it would not have been wiser never to have undertake it. Of the 59,000 chosen warriors who had marched from Spain, not less than 33,000 had been carried off by disease, fatigue, or the sword of the enemy. Only 12,000 Libyan and 8,000 Spanish foot and 6,000 horsemen had reached, the spot where the real struggle was not to end, but to begin. And these men were in a condition that might have inspired even enemies with pity. Countless sufferings, miseries, wounds, hunger, cold, disease had deprived them almost of the appearance of human beings, and had brutalised them in body and mind. With our admiration of Hannibal's genius mingles an involuntary astonishment that he thought the object which he had gained worthy of such a price, and that, in spite of his losses, he was able to justify the wisdom of his determination by the most brilliant success. It is not easy to banish the suspicion that Hannibal anticipated less difficulty in the passage of the Alps than he encountered. Though the attacks of the mountaineers were probably not so serious as they are represented, yet they added materially to the losses of the army. No doubt Hannibal was justified in expecting that these tribes would receive him as the friend and ally of their countrymen on the Po, and we may suppose that they had formally promised to assist instead of obstructing the passage. We are at a loss to account for their hostility. Perhaps their only object was plunder. The obstructions thus caused were the more serious as Hannibal was too late in the season for crossing the mountains easily. But it is impossible to determine the cause of this delay—whether Hannibal’s departure from New Carthage was postponed unduly; whether the campaign between the Ebro and the Pyrenees, or the passage of these mountains, or the march through Gaul, or the crossing of the Rhone and the transactions with the Allobrogians detained him longer than he had calculated; or whether, in spite of all his inquiries, he had no correct knowledge of the distances and the difficulties of the road. But there can be no doubt that the cold, added to the fatigue of mountain-climbing among ice and snow, was more pernicious to his men than anything else. A march of fifteen days under the weight of arms and baggage, over the highest and steepest mountains of Europe, and on such roads as the tramp of men and animals alone, without any engineering skill, had made, and fifteen nights’ bivouac where even in October piercing cold winds sweep down from the snow-fields and glaciers, were alone sufficient to destroy an army. What must have been the fate of those who fell down from exhaustion, or were left behind wounded or diseased? Nothing is said in this narrative (and very rarely at any other time in the accounts of ancient warfare) of the sick and wounded. No doubt every serious wound or illness caused death, especially on a march where even vigorous men experience difficulty in keeping pace with their comrades. Recent events have shown that the care of the sick and wounded in war is a very late and a very imperfect product of civilisation and philanthropy.

The army required a few days to recover from their fatigue before Hannibal could venture to begin the campaign, at a season when, under ordinary circumstances, the time for winter-quarters had arrived. He then turned against the Taurinians, a Ligurian tribe which was hostile to the Insubrians, and had rejected his proffered alliance. In three days their chief town was taken, their fighting men cut down, and it was made evident to all their neighbours that they had only to choose between destruction and the Carthaginian alliance. In consequence of this, all the tribes in the upper valley of the Po, Ligurians as well as Gauls, joined Hannibal. The tribes living further eastward still hesitated, from fear of the Roman armies that occupied their country. Hannibal, in order to enable them to join him, found it necessary to march immediately against the Romans, and to force them to accept a battle.

We may presume that it was hardly necessary for Hannibal to urge his soldiers to bravery. Their conduct up to this time was a sufficient guarantee for the future. Nevertheless, as we are told, Hannibal placed before their eyes a spectacle to show that death has no terrors for a man if death or victory is the only chance of deliverance from unendurable evils. Before the assembled army he asked his Gallic prisoners if they were prepared to fight with one another unto the death, provided that liberty and splendid arms were the reward of victory. When with one voice they all professed themselves ready to stake life for freedom. Hannibal selected by lot several pairs of combatants. These fought, fell or conquered like heroes, and were envied by those of their companions who had not been fortunate enough to be selected. Thus wretched barbarian captives showed what can be expected of soldiers fighting for the highest prize, and Hannibal’s men were not disposed to yield to them in military spirit.

It would almost appear that the issue of the first Punic war had produced among the Romans a feeling of superiority over the Carthaginians. They had no conception of the change that had taken place in the Carthaginian army, and that, instead of Gallic mercenaries, Libyan and Spanish subjects and allies formed now the principal strength of their old enemies. Of course they were still more ignorant of the military genius of Hannibal. They were consequently full of courage and confident of victory; and Scipio, as he had ventured in Gaul to advance against Hannibal with an inferior force, did not hesitate now to do the same. From Placentia he marched westward along the left bank of the Po, crossed the Ticinus, and found himself suddenly face to face with a considerable corps of cavalry, which Hannibal, advancing on the same bank down the river, had sent before the main body of his army to reconnoitre. Thus the first encounter on Italian soil took place between the Po and the Ticinus. It did not assume the dimensions of a battle. No Roman infantry, except the light-armed troops, were engaged; but the conflict was severe, and terminated, after a spirited resistance, in a decided repulse of the Romans. Scipio himself set his men the example of bravery. Fighting in the foremost ranks, he was wounded, and owed his life to the heroism of his son, then a youth of seventeen years, but destined to become the conqueror of Hannibal, and to terminate the terrible war so inauspiciously opened at the Ticinus. After this check, Scipio could not think of venturing on a regular battle. The level country round about was too favourable for the superior cavalry of the Carthaginians. He made therefore a hasty and even precipitate retreat, sacrificing a detachment of 600 men, who covered the bridge over the Po until it was destroyed by the retreating army, and, less fortunate than Horatius Codes in the good old time, were all made prisoners of war.

In order to cross the Po, Hannibal was obliged to ascend its bank for some distance, until he found a place where the elephants and the cavalry could swim the stream, and where it was easy to construct a bridge for the infantry. Then he advanced towards Placentia, near which city the consul Scipio had constructed a fortified camp. He crossed, as it appears, the small river Trebia, which, running down from the Apennines in a northerly direction, joins the Po not far to the west of Placentia. Thus the two armies again confronted one another, and Hannibal was anxious to bring on a decisive engagement, whilst Scipio, moderating his ardour after his recent ill success, and moreover compelled to inactivity by his wound, kept within his lines. It was most fortunate for the Romans that they had completed the fortification of Placentia and Cremona. Without these two strongholds they would, after Hannibal’s appearance, have been unable to keep their footing in the valley of the Po, and the Gauls would have been throughout the war much less hampered in their offensive operations as Hannibal’s allies, if the Roman garrisons in those two fortresses had not kept them in constant alarm for the safety of their own country.

As yet the Gauls had not unanimously declared themselves for Hannibal. Most of them were ready to abandon the cause of Rome, others wavered in their fidelity, a few remained steadfast and sent auxiliaries. But Scipio could not rely on these men. In one night more than 2,000 of them mutinied in the Roman camp, overpowered the sentinels at the gates, and rushed out to join Hannibal. They were received kindly, praised for their conduct, and dismissed to their homes with great promises if they would persuade their countrymen to revolt from Rome. Hannibal was now in hopes that all the Gallic tribes would join his standard, and he eagerly wished for an opportunity to deal the Roman army a decisive blow, which might inspire the Gauls with confidence in his strength.

Scipio, on his side, sought to avoid a conflict. As he did not feel safe enough on the level ground, in the immediate vicinity of Placentia, he broke up his camp in the night, and, using the utmost silence, marched higher up the Trebia, in order to gain a more favourable locality for a camp on the hills which form the last spurs of the Apennines running northward towards the Po. As Hannibal’s army was not far off, this movement was no doubt hazardous, especially as Scipio’s march went past the hostile camp. In spite of the care employed to avoid noise, the movement of the Romans was perceived. Hannibal’s horse­men were immediately at their heels, and had they not been delayed by the plunder of the Roman camp, it would have been difficult for Scipio to reach, without great loss, the left, or western, bank of the Trebia, and there to fortify a new camp. As it was, he succeeded in gaining a strong position, where he was in perfect safety, and was able to await the arrival of his colleague Sempronius, who, with his army, was on his way from Sicily.

As we have seen above, Sempronius had, in the early part of the summer, sailed with two legions to Sicily. In that province he had made preparations for a landing in Africa, but had been detained by the energy with which the Carthaginians had begun hostilities in that quarter. Even before his arrival, a Carthaginian squadron of twenty vessels of war had appeared in the Sicilian waters. Three of them had been driven by a storm into the Straits of Messana, and had been captured by the Syracusan fleet with which the old king Hiero was in readiness to join the Roman consul. From the prisoners, Hiero ascertained that a Carthaginian fleet was on its way to surprise Lilybaeum and to promote a rising of the Roman subjects in Sicily, many of whom regretted the change of masters, and would fain have returned to their old allegiance. This important news was at once communicated to the praetor, M. Aemilius, who at that time commanded in Sicily; the garrison of Lilybaeum was warned, and the Roman fleet kept in readiness, while all round the coast a strict look-out was kept for the Carthaginians, and messengers were dispatched into the several towns to enjoin vigilance. Accordingly, when the Punic fleet, consisting of thirty-five sail, approached Lilybaeum, it found the Roman garrison ready to receive it. There was no chance of taking the town by surprise. The Carthaginians resolved, therefore, to offer battle to the Roman fleet, and drew up at the entrance of the port. The number of the Roman ships is not given. Livy only mentions the circumstance that they were manned with better and more numerous troops than those of the Carthaginians. The latter, therefore, tried to avoid being boarded, and relied on their skill in using the beaks (rostra) for disabling and sinking the hostile vessels. But they succeeded only in a single instance, whereas the Romans boarded several of their vessels, and captured them, with their crews, amounting to 1,700 men. The rest of the Carthaginian ships escaped. Again it was shown that the sea, their own peculiar element, had become unfavourable to the Carthaginians; whilst, on the other hand, the genius of Hannibal had the effect of reversing the relative strength and confidence of the two nations in their land forces, and of causing the superiority of the Roman legions over the Carthaginian mercenaries to be forgotten.

Meanwhile, Tiberius Sempronius had arrived in Sicily with his fleet of one hundred and sixty sail and two legions, and had been received by King Hiero with the respect due to the representative of the majesty of Rome. Hiero placed his fleet at the disposal of the consul, offered him his homage and his vows for the triumph of the Roman people, and promised to show himself in his old age as faithful and persevering in the service of the Roman people as he had been in the former war, when he was in the vigour of manhood. He promised to provide the Roman legions and crews, at his own expense, with clothing and provisions, and then reported on the condition of the island and the plans of the Carthaginians. The two fleets sailed in company to Lilybaeum. They found there that the design of the Carthaginians on Lilybaeum had failed, and that the town was safe. Hiero therefore returned with his fleet to Syracuse; Sempronius sailed to Malta, which the Carthaginian commander Hamilcar, the son of Gisco, surrendered with the garrison of 2,000 men. These prisoners, as well as the men captured in the engagement off Lilybaeum, were sold as slaves, with the exception of three noble Carthaginians. Sempronius then sailed in search of the hostile fleet, which, meanwhile, committed depredations in the Italian waters, and which he thought to find among the Liparian Islands. He was mistaken, and on his return to Sicily received information that it was ravaging the coast of Italy near Vibo. But his further action in the south was stopped by the news, which arrived soon after, of Hannibal’s march across the Alps. He prepared immediately to join his colleague Scipio in Cisalpine Gaul. Placing twenty-five ships under the command of his legate Sextus Pomponius for the protection of the Italian coast, and reinforcing the squadron of the praetor M. Aemilius to fifty sail, he sent the remainder of his fleet with his troops to Ariminum in the Adriatic. Having regulated affairs in Sicily, he followed the main body with ten ships. The rest of his army which could not be taken on board the fleet he ordered to proceed to Ariminum by land, leaving every soldier free to find his way as best he could, and only binding them by oath to appear at Ariminum on the appointed day.

From Ariminum Sempronius marched to the Trebia, where he effected his junction with Scipio, apparently without difficulty. The Roman army now amounted to more than 40,000 men, and was consequently more numerous than that of the invaders. But the position of Hannibal was now very much improved. By the treason of a Latin officer from Brundusium, he had gained possession of the fortified place of Clastidium (now called Casteggio, near Montebello), where the Romans had collected their supplies. Thus he had now abundance of provisions, whilst the Roman army, swelled by the arrival of Sempronius to double its original number, felt, no doubt, most keenly the loss of the supplies which had been destined for its use. Under these circumstances, Sempronius naturally wished to bring on a battle. He had not come all the way from Sicily to shut himself up in a fortified camp on the Trebia, and to look on quietly, whilst tribe after tribe in Cisalpine Gaul joined Hannibal, and swelled the hostile army. He might well ask for what purpose two consular armies were sent out against the enemy, except to attack and defeat him. He had been successful in his own province of Sicily, and had been crossed and thwarted in a direct attack on Carthage by the order of the senate, which recalled him and transferred him to the north of Italy. If he should be so fortunate as to destroy Hannibal’s army, he would have the glory of having quickly brought the war to a triumphant conclusion. Nor would be share this glory with anybody, as, while his colleague Scipio was disabled by his wound, he had the undivided command of the two consular armies. Polybius, refusing to regard the resolution of Sempronius as the result of rational calculation, or of the necessity of his position, charges him with recklessness and vanity, contrasting with his conduct the prudent caution of Scipio, who is said to have dissuaded him from risking a battle. We can hardly decide whether Polybius is right or wrong. It is possible that Sempronius, just like Scipio at first, had no just estimation of the enemy with whom he had to deal, and that, thinking victory certain, he was over anxious to secure the glory for himself. At the same time it is tolerably evident that Polybius, in his partiality to Scipio, endeavours as much as possible to throw upon the shoulders of Sempronius the blame of the defeat on the Trebia. He was the friend of the Cornelian house, and could not but imbibe in the family circle of the Scipios all the views most in accordance with the reputation of that family, views which he has done his best to propagate and to back by his authority.

The two hostile armies were encamped at a short distance from one another; the Carthaginians nearer to Placentia, on the right, or eastern, bank of the Trebia, the Romans higher up the river, on the left bank. A cavalry engagement took place, and, terminating apparently to the advantage of the Romans, had increased the confidence of Sempronius. This Hannibal had expected. He knew that the Romans would not defer the decision much longer, chose his battlefield with the unerring eye of a consummate general, and made all the necessary preparations for the impending struggle.

Not far from the Roman camp, but on the opposite side of the Trebia, was a dried-up watercourse with high banks overgrown with bushes, high enough to hide infantry and even cavalry. Here Hannibal ordered his spirited young brother Mago to proceed before daybreak with one thousand chosen horsemen and as many foot soldiers, and to lie in ambush until the signal should be given. Then he sent the Numidian cavalry across the river right against the Roman camp to draw them out to battle. What he had expected took place. As soon as the Romans, early in the morning, caught sight of the Numidians, Sempronius, without even giving his men time to strengthen themselves by the usual morning meal, ordered the whole of his cavalry, four thousand strong, to advance against them, and the foot to follow. The Numidians retired back across the river, closely pursued by the Roman cavalry and infantry. The day was raw, damp, and cold. It was towards mid-winter, and sleet and snow filled the air. In the previous night a copious rain had fallen in the mountains, and the river Trebia had risen so high that the soldiers in fording it stood breast high in the icy water. Stiff with cold and taint with hunger they arrived on the right bank, and immediately found themselves in front of Hannibal’s army, which was drawn up in a long line of battle, the infantry, 20,000 strong, in the centre, 10,000 horsemen and the elephants on the wings. Hannibal bad taken care that his men should have a good night’s rest, and be prepared for the work of the day by an ample breakfast.

The battle had hardly begun when the Romans lost every chance of victory. The superior Carthaginian cavalry drove in the Roman cavalry on both wings, and, in combination with the elephants, attacked the legions on the flanks whilst Hannibal’s Libyan, Spanish, and Gaulish infantry engaged them in front. Nevertheless, the Romans kept their ground for a while with the utmost courage, until Mago, with his two thousand men, broke forth from the ambush and seized them in rear. Terror and disorder now spread among them. Only ten thousand men in the centre of the Roman line kept their ranks unbroken, and, cutting their way through the Gauls opposed to them, made good their retreat to Placentia; the remainder of the Roman infantry, in helpless confusion, tried to regain their camp on the western side of the Trebia. But before they could cross the river the greater portion were cut down by the numerous cavalry of the Carthaginians, or perished under the feet of the elephants. Many found their death in the river, which with its swollen and icy flood cut off their retreat. Some reached the camp; others, especially the horse which had been chased off the field on both flanks, joined the corps of ten thousand which alone effected an orderly retreat to Placentia. The pursuit lasted until showers of rain mixed with snow compelled the conquerors to seek the shelter of their tents. The weather was so bitterly cold and tempestuous that Hannibal’s army suffered severely, and almost all the elephants perished.

The tempest continued to rage all night. Under its cover Scipio succeeded in crossing the river Trebia with the remnants of the defeated army, and in reaching Placentia unmolested by the victorious but exhausted Carthaginians. In this town and in Cremona, under the shelter of the recently constructed fortifications, the shattered remains of the four legions passed the rest of the winter in safety. The supplies from the surrounding country were cut off, as the Gauls had by this time risen in mass against Rome, and as Hannibal’s cavalry ranged freely all over the vast plain about the Po. But the navigation of this river, it seems, was still open. The fishing boats of the natives could not stop the armed vessels of the Romans, and thus the Roman colonists and soldiers received the necessary supplies, and were enabled to hold their ground at this most critical period.

The great battle of the Trebia was the concluding and crowning operation of Hannibal’s campaign, the reward for the innumerable labours and dangers which he and his brave army had encountered. The march from New Carthage to Placentia across the Ebro, the Pyrenees, the Rhone, the Alps, and the Po, in great part through hostile nations, and on wretched roads, with an army composed of different races, and inspired by no feeling of patriotic devotion, is not matched by any military exploit in ancient or in modern history. But that which raises it above the sphere of mere adventurous daring, and qualifies it as an achievement worthy of a great general, is the splendid victory with which it closed.

This victory produced the most important results. Even the immediate and direct gain was great. The two consular armies were shattered. The number of the slain and the prisoners is not stated, but we can hardly suppose it to have been less than half of the whole army engaged. Still greater was the moral effect. From this time forward the name of Hannibal was terrible to the Roman soldier, just as the name of the Gauls had been of old. And these two most terrible enemies of Rome were now united, flushed with victory and ready to turn their arms against the devoted city. The dreadful calamity which came upon the republic after the black day of the Allia might now not only be repeated but surpassed. At that time the Capitol at least had broken the onset of the barbarians, and had saved the Roman nation from extinction. But what chance was there now of resisting the man who, with but small support from the Gallic tribes, had destroyed a superior Roman army, and was now leading all the hereditary enemies of the Roman name against the city? To face such dangers, without despairing, the Romans required all the iron firmness of their character, which never was more formidable than when veritable terrors appeared on all sides.

Such firmness was the more necessary as Hannibal, at this early period of the war, showed that it was his intention to undermine the Roman state within, whilst he was attacking it from without. After his victory on the Trebia, he divided his prisoners into two classes. Those who were Roman citizens he kept in rigorous captivity. The Roman allies he dismissed without ransom, and assured them that he had come into Italy in order to deliver them from the Roman yoke. If they wished to recover their independence, their lost lands and towns, they should join him, and with united strength attack the common enemy of them all.

In spite of the advanced season, and the severity of the winter, Hannibal showed a restless activity. He was busied in organising the alliance of the Gaulish tribes against Rome. The Boians brought him, as a pledge of their fidelity, the three Roman commissioners whom they had captured. He was joined also by the Ligurians, who had year after year been hunted and harassed by the Romans like wild beasts, and who brought as hostages some noble Romans whom they had captured in their country. Still the Romans held several fortified places on the Po. One of these, called Victumviae, was stormed by Hannibal, and the defenders were treated with all the severity of the laws of war; the attempt to take another fort by surprise failed. The two principal places, Placentia and Cremona, could not be taken without a formal siege; for besides the remains of the beaten army, each of them had a garrison of six thousand colonists, i.e. veteran soldiers. For such an attempt Hannibal had neither time nor means. He was hastening to carry the war into Southern Italy. The Gauls began to feel the pressure of the numbers which they had now to support, and they were burning with impatience for the plunder of Italy. The fundamental feature of their character was inconstancy. They had no idea of fidelity and perseverance. It was nothing but their own advantage that united them with Hannibal. Their attachment could easily be changed into hostility. Hannibal's own life might be exposed to danger if the treacherous disposition of these barbarians were stimulated by a prize offered for his head. His brother-in-law, Hasdrubal, had fallen a victim to assassination. Alexander of Epirus had been killed by a faithless Lucanian ally. It was not impossible that a similar fate awaited Hannibal. If we can trust the report of Polybius, such apprehensions induced Hannibal to avail himself of a ‘Punic deceit’, by assuming different disguises and wearing false hair, so that his own friends could not recognise him. Yet we can hardly think such a device worthy of Hannibal, nor does it seem probable that a general who was worshipped by his soldiers should have been compelled to hide himself under a disguise in the midst of his army, in order to protect his life from the dagger of an assassin. We should be rather inclined to think that Hannibal acted as his own spy, to sound the disposition of his new allies.

In his impatience to leave Cisalpine Gaul, Hannibal made an attempt to cross the Apennines before the end of winter. But he was foiled in this undertaking. The army was overtaken in the mountains by so terrific a hurricane that it was unable to proceed. Men and horses perished from the cold, and Hannibal was compelled to return to his winter-quarters near Placentia.

Simultaneously with the stirring events which accompanied Hannibal’s march, Spain also had been the theatre of serious conflicts. Publius Scipio, as we have seen, had sent from Massilia his brother Cneius with two legions to Spain, whilst he himself had hastened to the Po. In spite of its great distance, Spain was still Hannibal's only base of operations; and, by its natural wealth and its warlike population, it was a chief source of strength for Carthage. The Romans therefore could not leave Spain in the undisturbed possession of their enemies, though they were attacked in Italy itself. Moreover, their own interest as well as their honour bound them to send assistance to those Spanish tribes, between the Ebro and the Pyrenees, who had espoused their cause in the great struggle between the two rival republics. Hannibal had overthrown them when he passed through their country on his march to Italy, but he had not had time to reduce them to perfect submission and peaceful obedience. It was still possible to gain their alliance for Rome. The dispatch of the two legions to Spain was, therefore, perfectly justified; and the senate showed its approval of it by continuing the war in Spain at all costs throughout the greatest distress caused by Hannibal’s victories in Italy. Spain was for Rome what Cisalpine Gaul was for Hannibal. Both countries had been recently and imperfectly conquered, and were full of unwilling subjects, easily roused to rebellion. As the overthrow of Roman dominion in the north of Italy opened a way for an attack on the vital parts of her empire, so the conquest of Spain promised to facilitate a transfer of the war into Africa, where alone it could he brought to a victorious conclusion.

Of the events in Spain during the year 218 B.C. we have not much to report. Cneius Scipio succeeded, by persuasion or force, in gaining for the Roman alliance most of the tribes between the Pyrenees and the Ebro; he defeated Hanno, whom Hannibal had intrusted with ten thousand men for the defence of that country, and he took up his winter-quarters in Tarraco.

The first news which reached Rome of the battle of the Trebia was contained in an official report of the consul Sempronius, which bears a striking resemblance to other official reports of very recent times. It stated, for the information of the senate and the Roman people, that a battle had taken place, and that Sempronius would have been victorious if he had not been prevented by inclement weather. But soon there came reports which were not official, and stated the naked truth. The alarm in Rome was so much the greater, and it rose to positive apprehension for the safety of the town. Since the great disaster in the Caudine passes, more than a century before this time, no similar calamity had befallen the united legions of both consuls; and on that memorable occasion the army had been saved from destruction by the short-sighted confidence which the Samnite general had placed in the faith and honour of the Roman people. It was only the battle of the Allia which could compare in disastrous results with the recent overthrow, for on that fatal day the army which was destined to cover Rome had been completely routed and dispersed; and the memory of the terrors of that evil time was now recalled the more readily as the dreaded Gauls marched in Hannibal’s army upon the city which they had once already burned and sacked. To the terror of the foreign enemy were added apprehensions from internal discord. After a long peace the struggle between the two opposite parties had, a few years before, broken out again. The comitia of centuries had in 241 B.C. been remodelled on democratic principles. Whilst the nobility was degenerating more and more into a narrow oligarchy, a popular party had been formed, bent on invigorating and renewing the middle class, and on checking the accumulation of wealth in a few hands. The chief of this party was Caius Flaminius. He had in his tribuneship encountered the violent opposition of the senate in passing a law for the division of public land in Picenum amongst Roman citizens; he had connected that country with Rome by the Flaminian road, a work by which, like Appius Claudius with his road and aqueduct, he had given employment to a great number of the poorer citizens, and had gained a considerable following. The construction of a new race­course in Rome, the Circus Flaminius, was another measure designed to conciliate the favour of the people. At the same time these considerable public works are an evidence of a stricter and growing control over the public revenue, for the money which they required could not be derived from any private or extraordinary source. By such attention to the finances of the state, Flaminius necessarily incurred the hostility of the rich and influential men of the nobility, who were in the habit of deriving profit from renting public domains, saltworks, mines, and the like, and from farming the customs. These men, from the nature of their occupation, considered it their privilege to rob the public. It had become quite customary for the nobility to violate the Licinian law, to occupy more land and to keep more cattle on the common pasture than the law allowed. Occasionally honest and fearless tribunes or aediles ventured to put down this abuse by prosecuting and fining the offenders; but no radical cure was effected, nor was it easy to effect one. Since the passing of the Licinian laws (in 36o B.C.) Rome had conquered Italy, Sicily, and Sardinia, and had confiscated conquered lands on a large scale. How was it possible to coerce the rapacity of the great and powerful families by enforcing a law which was passed when Rome was not even mistress of the whole of Latium? The great increase in the number of slaves, which was one of the results of the wars in Southern Italy, Sicily, Corsica, Liguria, and Illyria, made it possible to farm large estates, and to keep numerous flocks and herds on the extensive public pastures. The increase of capital which flowed to Rome from the conquered districts enriched the noble families, which monopolised the government. When the first province was acquired beyond the confines of Italy, the besetting sin of the Roman aristocracy, their ungovernable rapacity, coupled with cruelty and violence, shot up like a flame which has reached a store of new, rich fuel. The great danger that threatened the Roman commonwealth became more than ever evident. The lingering fever became more violent and malignant, and it was high time for a vigorous hand to interfere and to stop, if possible, the progress of the disorder. Flaminius, it appears, was the man for it; but unfortunately he was almost isolated among the Roman aristocracy. His own father, it is said, pulled him down from the public platform, when he was speaking to the people to recommend his agrarian law; and when the tribune C. Claudius, who was probably a plebeian client of the great Claudian family, proposed a law to prevent senators and the sons of senators from engaging in foreign trade and from possessing any vessels beyond a certain moderate size, Flaminius was the only man in the senate who spoke in favour of the proposal. He was therefore opposed by the whole of that powerful party which monopolised the government for their own benefit. But he had the people on his side; and as at that time the Assembly of the Tribes was independent and competent to legislate for the whole republic, he was in a position to carry his reforms by the votes of the people, and in direct opposition to the senate. Had he lived longer, it is possible that the economical condition of the Roman people would not have become so utterly wretched and hopeless as the Gracchi found it a hundred years later.

Flaminius had been raised to the consulship as early as 223 B.C.—a time when the war with the Insubrians was raging with all its force. He had no great military abilities; but as a general he was probably not inferior to the average of Roman consuls. It was therefore, in all probability, not from any apprehension of his incapacity, nor from superstition caused by threatening phenomena, but from political animosity, that the senate sent a message to recall him to Rome, pretending that his election was vitiated by some defect in the auspices, and calling upon him to resign his office. Flaminius had got into difficulties, but he was just on the point of inflicting a severe blow on the enemy, when the sealed letter of the senate was delivered to him. Guessing the contents, he left it unopened until he had gained the victory. Then he answered that, as the gods themselves had clearly fought for him, they had sufficiently ratified his election; and, thus setting the authority of the senate at defiance, he continued the war. On his return to Rome the people voted him a triumph, in spite of the opposition of the senate, and when Flaminius had celebrated this triumph he laid down his office. In one of the succeeding years he was made master of the horse by the dictator Minucius, but was obliged to resign this command because at his nomination a mouse had been heard to squeak. The nobility, as it appears, carried on against him a sort of holy war. They marshalled heavenly signs and auspices on their side; but these weapons were evidently becoming antiquated, for they produced very little effect, as was shown in the sequel.

When, after the defeat on the Trebia, the consular elections for the ensuing year were at hand, and the confidence of the people seemed to be turning in favour of the popular leader Flaminius, as the first Roman that had signally beaten the Gauls in their own country beyond the Po, the oligarchical party worked hard to prevent his el action. Universal fear had seized the minds of men, and made them see in every direction images of terror, and miraculous phenomena of evil foreboding. Livy has preserved an interesting list of these ‘prodigies,’ which illustrates the peculiar mode of superstition dominant at that time among the vulgar :—In the vegetable market a child of six months called out ‘Triumph’; in the cattle market a bull ran up into the third story of a house, and leaped into the street; fiery ships were seen in the sky; the Temple of Hope was struck by lightning; in Lanuvium the holy spear moved of its own accord; a raven flew into the temple of Juno, and perched on the pillow of the goddess; near Amiternum there were seen, in many places, human forms in white robes; in Picenum it rained stones; in Caere the prophetic tablets shrank; in Gaul a wolf snatched the sword of a sentinel from its sheath.

To propitiate the anger of the gods, manifested by these numerous signs, the whole people were for several days engaged in sacrifices, purifications, and prayers. Dedicatory offerings of gold and bronze were placed in the temples; lectisternia, or public feastings of the gods, were ordered, and solemn vows were made on the part of the Roman people.

If the priests intended, in the interest of the nobility, to keep the people by religious terrors from electing Flaminius, who, as a notorious free-thinker, scoffed at the national superstition, their pains were lost, for Flaminius was elected to the consulship in spite of all opposition. It was customary that the newly-elected consul, on the day of entering 011 his office, should dress himself in his house in his official robe (the praetexta or purple-bordered toga), ascend the Capitol in solemn procession, perform a sacrifice, convene a meeting of the senate, in which the time was fixed for the Latin festival (feriae Latinae) on the Alban Mount by the temple of Jupiter Latiaris, and that he should not start for his province before the termination of this festival, which at the period of the Hannibalian war lasted several days. In order to avoid the chicanery of his opponents, who might have retained him in the city or compelled him to resign, under some futile pretext of a bad omen or of an irregularity in the ceremonies, Flaminius disregarded the usual formalities, and left Rome abruptly, in order to enter on his office in his camp at Ariminum. The senate, greatly exasperated, resolved to recall him, and sent an embassy to insist on his immediate return. Flaminius paid no attention to the order of the senate, which he knew to be of no legal force, and assumed the command of the army at Ariminum without the observance of the usual religious formalities. But signs of warning occurred even now. At the sacrifice a calf, already struck, but not killed by the axe, escaped from the bands of the attendant, sprinkled many persons with its blood, and disturbed the solemn proceedings by the terror which such an evident sign of the divine displeasure produced. The great calamity that was to befall Italy was hastened by the wickedness of men like Flaminius, who disregarded the warnings of the gods.

The internal disputes did not prevent the Romans from making their preparations for the ensuing campaign with circumspection and care. The military strength of Italy was sufficient, not only once more to encounter the principal enemy with perfect confidence, but amply to provide for the safety of the distant parts of the Roman dominion. Troops were sent to Sicily, Sardinia, Tarentum, and other places. Sixty quinqueremes were added to the fleet. The faithful Hiero of Syracuse, as indefatigable in the service of Rome as ever, sent 500 Cretans and 1,000 light-armed infantry. Four new legions were raised, and magazines of provisions were established in the north of Etruria and in Ariminum, by one of which two routes the advance of the Carthaginians was expected. In the latter place the remnants of the army beaten at the Trebia were collected, and hence Flaminius led his men by cross and by-roads over the Apennines into northern Etruria, to join them to the two new legions which had been directed there straight from Rome.

The second consul, Cn. Servilius, proceeded to Ariminum with the two other newly-levied legions. His army consisted, according to Appian, of 40,000 men in all. If this statement is to be trusted, Servilius must have had, besides the two new legions and the usual number of allies, a body of 20,000 auxiliaries, who were perhaps Cenomanians. The cavalry of his army was very strong if, as Polybius reports, Servilius dispatched 4,000 of them into Etruria as soon as he was informed of Hannibal’s march in that direction.

The situation was, upon the whole, identical with that of 225 B.C., eight years before, when the Romans expected that the Gauls would advance either by the eastern road through Picenum, or on the western side of the Apennines from the Upper Arno. They had then divided their armies between Ariminum and Arretium, in order to cover both roads to Rome. But as they were then deceived by the Gauls, who crossed the Apennines, not near the Upper Arno, but far westward near the sea-coast, and suddenly appeared in Etruria without having encountered any opposition, so they were now a second time surprised by Hannibal.

On the first appearance of spring the Carthaginian army broke up from the plain of the Po. It had been considerably strengthened by Gauls. Crossing the Apennines, probably by the pass which is now called that of Pontremoli and leads from Parma to Lucca, Hannibal had reached the Arno, while Servilius was still expecting him at Ariminum. The march to Faesulae, through the low ground along the Arno, was beset with great difficulties. The country was flooded by the spring rains and the melting of the snow on the mountains, and had in several places assumed the aspect of vast lakes. Men and beasts sank deep into the soft ground; many of the horses lost their hoofs and perished. A portion of the army was obliged to wade through the water for three days, and to pass the nights without being able to find dry spots on which they might rest or sleep, except the bodies of fallen animals, and heaps of the abandoned baggage. The, damp and variable weather, together with excessive fatigue, and especially the want of sleep, caused sickness and terrible havoc among the troops. Hannibal himself lost one of his eyes by inflammation. The Gauls suffered most. They formed the centre in the line of march, and if Hannibal had not taken the precaution of causing the cavalry under his brave brother Mago, to close the rear, they would have deserted in crowds, for they were near home, and, as Gauls, they had no perseverance to bear up against continued hardships.

Having reached the Upper Arno, Hannibal allowed his army to repose. Then he marched southwards, passing by the camp of Flaminius near Arretium, in the direction of towards Cortona. To attack the fortified camp of the consul would have been hopeless. Even at the Trebia Hannibal had left the defeated and wounded Scipio and his discouraged army unmolested in his camp, and had preferred to engage two united consular armies in the field rather than attack one within its intrenchments. It was therefore natural that he should now try to provoke Flaminius to leave his camp and fight a battle. If he marched further south towards Rome, it was impossible for Flaminius to remain stationary at Arretium. Between Hannibal and Rome there was now no Roman army. Who would take the responsibility of letting the enemy march unopposed upon Rome? Whether Hannibal would attack the city, and whether an attack would succeed, nobody could tell. At any rate the apprehensions in Rome were great. It was the duty of the two consuls to beat the enemy in the field. On no account could they think of remaining in the north of Italy whilst the capital was threatened.

Flaminius accordingly broke up from Arretium and followed Hannibal closely. It is not at all probable that he had any idea of offering or accepting battle before his colleague, whom he had now every reason to expect in Etruria, should arrive from Ariminum. Perhaps he contemplated a repetition of the campaign in the late Gallic war, which eight years before had led to such brilliant results. At that time a Gallic army, followed by the army of one Roman consul, suddenly encountered the other consul in front, and was cut to pieces by a combined attack of the two colleagues. Now, if Servilius marched rapidly by the Flaminian road from Umbria, and succeeded in placing himself between Hannibal and Rome, the two consuls could, as on the previous occasion, fall upon the enemy from two sides. It appears that Servilius acted upon such a plan as this. He dispatched a body of 4,000 horse, under C. Centenius, in advance, and followed with the infantry on the Flaminian road. It was therefore the duty of Flaminius to keep as close as possible to the Carthaginians, in order to be near enough, on the expected approach of the second Roman army, for a combined action. He was strong enough for this, for he had more than 30,000 men. This force sufficed to hamper the movements of the invaders, and even to protect the country to some extent from devastation. In a few hours Roman soldiers could make a fortified camp, in which they would be safe from a surprise, and even from an attack in due form. For this reason a Roman general could venture close to an enemy, without exposing himself to any extraordinary risks. The plan of Flaminius cannot therefore be called rash. But he had in his calculation overlooked one item, or rated it at too low a figure. The enemy he had to deal with was not a horde of barbarian Gauls, but a disciplined army of veteran soldiers, led by Hannibal.

The unfortunate are seldom treated with justice by their friends, never by their enemies. Flaminius was the recognised leader of the popular party, and the history of Rome was written by the adherents and clients of the nobility. Thus Flaminius has experienced, even at the hands of Polybius, an ungenerous, nay, unjust, treatment. But, in truth, if he committed faults in his command, if he allowed himself to be outwitted and surprised in an ambush by a superior antagonist, he is not more guilty than many other Roman consuls before and after him, whose faults were forgiven because they belonged to the ruling party. And yet few of these have an equal claim, to consideration and forgiveness with Flaminius, who atoned for his fault with his life. Nevertheless, party hatred survived him, and delighted in making him responsible for the whole misfortune which the genius of Hannibal inflicted on his ill-fated army.

Polybius disdains repeating the silly charge brought against Flaminius, that he rushed into misfortune through his contempt of the gods. Livy, however, is more punctilious in preserving traits which are characteristic of Roman manners and sentiment. He relates, therefore, that, on starting from Arretium, he was thrown from his horse, but disregarded not only this warning of the gods, but another also which still more plainly bade him stay. An ensign-bearer being unable with all his strength to pull the ensign out of the ground, Flaminius ordered it to be dug out. On the other hand, Polybius prefers a graver charge against the unfortunate general. He says that he was urged by political considerations—by the fear of losing the popular favour; that he wished to appropriate to himself the glory of defeating Hannibal without sharing it with his colleague; that he was puffed up with vanity, and considered himself a great general; and that for these reasons he was anxious to hurry on an engagement with Hannibal, and rushed heedlessly into danger. We hold these charges to be unjust, and to be refuted by the events themselves. If Flaminius had been foolishly eager to bring on an engagement, he would surely not have waited till Hannibal had advanced as far as Arretium, still less would he have allowed him to pass by his camp. He would have gone to meet him, and he would have been able to attack the Punic army before it had recovered from the fatigues and hardships of a long march across the Apennines and through the lands inundated by the Arno. He would, then, if he had been victorious, have prevented the devastation of northern Etruria, and have secured for himself the glory which he is said to have so much coveted. Instead of doing this, he remained quietly in his camp; and the fatal battle on the Thrasymene was not offered by him, but accepted, because he had no chance of avoiding it. It is no less an invention of his political enemies that, as Polybius says, Hannibal built his plan on his knowledge of the inconsiderate ardour, audacity, and vainglorious folly of Flaminius. His faults were too much the general faults of most Roman consuls to make it necessary for Hannibal to devise peculiar stratagems against this particular leader.

When, on his march, Hannibal had passed Cortona, and reached the Lake Thrasymenus (Lago di Perugia), he resolved to halt and to wait for the Romans, who were closely following him; and then, having chosen his ground, he made his dispositions for the coming struggle.

On the northern side of the lake, where it is skirted by the road from Cortona to Perugia, a steep range of hills approaches near to the water’s edge, so that the road (from Borglietto to Magione) passes through a defile, formed by the lake on the right and the mountains on the left. In one spot only (near the modem village of Tuoro) the hills recede to some distance, and leave a small expanse of level ground, bordered on the south by the lake, and everywhere else by steep heights. On these heights Hannibal drew up his army. With the best portion of his infantry, the Libyans and Spaniards, he occupied a hill jutting out into the middle of the plain. On his left or eastern side he placed the slingers and other light troops; on his right be drew up the Gauls, and beyond them his cavalry, on the gentler slopes as far as the point where the defile begins and where he expected the advance of the Romans. Probably the ground near the lake was marshy, and consequently the road wound along the foot of the hills, where they receded from the water.

Late in the evening of the day on which these arrangements were made (it was still April), Flaminius arrived in the neighbourhood, and encamped for the night not far from the lake. Early the next morning he continued his march, anxious to keep close up to the enemy, and not suspecting that the lion whose track he was following was crouching close by and was prepared to leap upon him with a sudden bound. A thick mist had risen from the lake and covered the road and the foot of the hills, while their summits were shining in the morning sun. Nothing betrayed the presence of the enemy. With the feeling of perfect security, in regular marching order, laden with their baggage, the soldiers entered the fatal ground, and the long line of the army wound along slowly between the lake and the hills. The head of the column had already passed the small plain on their left, and was marching along that part of the road where the mountains came close to the waiter’s edge. The rear-guard had just entered the defile, when suddenly the stillness of the morning was broken by the wild cry of battle, and the Romans, as if they were attacked by invisible enemies, were struck down without being able to ward off or return a blow. Before they could throw down their cumbersome baggage and seize their arms, the enemy was among them. They rushed in masses from all the hills at the same time. There was no time to form into order of battle. Everyone had to rely on the strength of his own arm and strike for life as well as he could. In vain Flaminius tried to rally and form his men. They rushed in all directions upon the enemy or upon each other, wild with dismay and despair. It was no battle, but a butchery. The office of the general could no longer be to lead his men, and to superintend and control the fight, but to set the example of individual courage, and to discharge the duty of the meanest soldier. This duty Flaminius performed, and he fell in the midst of the brave men whom he had led to their death. The Romans were slain by thousands, showing in death that unwavering spirit which so often led them to victory. A few, pushed into the lake, tried to save their lives by swimming, but the weight of their armour pressed them down. Others waded into the water as far as they could, but were mercilessly cut down by the hostile cavalry, or died by their own hands. Only a body of 6,000 men, which had formed the head of the line of march, cut their way through the Carthaginians and reached the top of the hills, from which, after the mist was dispersed, they beheld the terrible carnage below, and saw at the same time that they were unable to assist their perishing comrades. They therefore moved forward, and took up a position in a neighbouring village. But they were soon overtaken by Hannibal’s indefatigable cavalry, under the command of Maharbal, and were compelled to lay down their arms and surrender.

In three short hours the work of destruction was finished. Fifteen thousand Romans covered the bloody field. The prisoners were equally numerous. It appears, from the account of Polybius, that none escaped. The Roman army was not only defeated but annihilated. The loss of the Carthaginians, on the other hand, was small. Fifteen hundred men, for the most part Gauls, had fallen. Hannibal honoured thirty of the more distinguished of them by a solemn funeral. He searched also for the body of the unfortunate Flaminius, to give him a burial worthy of his rank. But among the heaps of the slain, the Roman consul, stripped, no doubt, and despoiled of his insignia, could not be identified. A hostile fate, which exposed him to the reviling tongue of his political opponents and blackened his memory, deprived him also of the respect which a generous enemy was ready to bestow. The prisoners were treated by Hannibal as on the previous occasion. Those of them who were Romans were kept in chains. The Roman allies obtained their freedom without ransom, and were assured that Hannibal waged war only with Rome, and had come to free them from the Roman yoke.

The news of the terrible slaughter at Lake Thrahymenus reached Rome in the course of the following day. This time no attempt was made to hide or to colour the truth. Already fugitives had hastened to Rome, and reported what they had seen or what they apprehended. The Forum was thronged with an anxious crowd that pressed round the senate-house, impatient to know what had happened. When at length, towards evening, the praetor Marcus Pomponius ascended the public platform, and announced, with a loud voice, ‘We are beaten in a great battle, our army is destroyed, and Flaminius, the consul, is slain' the people gave themselves up to their grief without reserve, and the scene was more affecting than even the carnage of the battle. The senate alone preserved its dignity, and calmly consulted on the measures necessary for the safety of the town.

Three days later fresh tidings of evil arrived. The 4,000 horse under the proprietor Centenius, whom the consul Servilius had dispatched from Ariminum to retard the advance of Hannibal until he could follow with the bulk of his troops, had fallen in with the victorious army, and were either cut to pieces or captured by Maharbal’s cavalry and light troops. By this reverse the army of the second consul, being deprived of its cavalry, was disabled, and could no longer offer any resistance to Hannibal’s advance. The Punic horsemen now ranged without control through southern Etruria, and showed themselves actually at Narnia, scarcely two days’ march from Rome.             

The most serious apprehensions for the safety of the city appeared not unfounded. Between Hannibal and Rome there now intervened no army in the field. One army was destroyed and the other was far away in Umbria, crippled and unable to oppose the enemy. The boldest resolutions could be expected of a general like Hannibal. Nothing seemed to be able to stop or retard the progress of the man who passed through Italy like a devastating element, crushing all resistance and setting all obstacles at nought. Nevertheless the men of Rome did not despair.

The senate remained united for several days in a permanent consultation from morning until evening, and, by its gravity and firmness, gradually inspired the terrified people with some degree of confidence and hope. Measures were taken immediately for the defence of the city. The bridges over the Tiber and other rivers were destroyed, stones and projectiles accumulated, and the walls put in a state of defence. The arms which were hung up in the temples as trophies of war were taken down and distributed to old soldiers. Above all things, a new head was given to the state. The times were, remembered when men like Cincinnatus and Camillus, invested with unlimited authority, had saved the republic from imminent danger. The ancient office of the dictatorship had almost fallen into oblivion. The living generation of younger men knew of it only from the tales of their fathers. Thirty-two years had passed since, in the darkest period of the first Punic war, after the great defeat at Drepana, a dictator had been chosen. Now, in the overwhelming violence of the tempest, this often tested sheet anchor was tried again. But it was not possible to appoint a dictator according to the forms and rules of the old law. A consul ought to nominate the dictator; but Flaminius was dead, and between Servilius and Rome stood the hostile army. A mode of appointing a dictator was therefore adopted which had never been resorted to before, and was never applied again. A pro-dictator and a master of the horse were elected by popular suffrage. The man selected was Q. Fabius Maximus, who had served the state honourably in many public functions, and who belonged to a noble and at the same time moderate patrician house, which from the earliest ages of the republic, and especially in the Samnite wars, had proved its warlike abilities. Q. Fabius was not a bold, enterprising general, but a man of firmness and intrepidity; and it was precisely such a man that Rome required at a time when adversity was threatening on all sides.

The first task of the dictator was to restore the shaken faith in the national gods. There was no hope of salvation from the present calamity, unless the gods were duly propitiated. It was clear that, not the sword of the enemy, but the contempt of the gods, which Flaminius had been guilty of, was the cause of the great reverses. Now the impious scoffers had been put to shame, and the forfeited favour of the outraged deity could only be regained by penitence and submission to the sacred rites of the national religion. The Sibylline books were consulted. On their advice the dictator vowed a temple to the Erycinian Venus, and the praetor T. Otacilius promised a temple to the goddess Reason (Mens). For the celebration of the public games the sum of thirty-three thousand three hundred and thirty-three and one-third pounds of copper was voted; white oxen were slaughtered as an atoning sacrifice, and the whole population, men, women, and children, put up their prayers and offerings to the gods. For three continuous days the six principal pairs of deities were publicly exhibited on couches and feasted. A solemn vow was made by the community, if the Roman commonwealth of the Quirites should remain unimpaired for five years, to sacrifice to Jupiter all the young of swine, sheep, goats, and cattle that should be born in this year. It was not necessary to devote also the children of men; they fell in full hecatombs as victims to the god of war on the field of battle.

Having scrupulously fulfilled the duties to the gods, Fabius addressed himself to military measures. The first task was to fill up the gap which the fatal battle of Lake Thrasymenus had made in the armed force. Two new legions were raised. The consul Servilius was ordered to come to Rome with his two legions. He met the dictator at Ocriculum on the Tiber, not far from Narnia. Here the Roman soldiers who had never been commanded by a dictator saw for the first time that his power in the state was supreme. When the consul was drawing near the dictator, the latter commanded him to dismiss his lictors, and to appear alone before his superior, who was preceded by twenty-four lictors.

Meanwhile more evil news had arrived. A fleet of transports, destined for the legions in Spain, had been surprised and taken by the Carthaginians near Cosa on the coast of Etruria. Upon this news Servilius was sent to Ostia, to arm and equip the Roman ships in that port. Out of the lower class of people he enrolled seamen for the fleet and a body of soldiers to serve as a garrison for the city. Already the pressure of war was felt, and was producing alarming symptoms. In spite of the apparently inexhaustible population of Italy, in spite of the vast superiority of Rome over Carthage in men trained to war—the point in which the preponderance of Rome chiefly lay—the Romans were obliged, in the second year of the war, to take soldiers from a class of citizens which in the good old time was looked upon as unworthy of the honourable service of war. From among the freedmen, the descendants of manumitted slaves, those were enrolled who were fathers of families, and seemed to have given pledges to the state for their fidelity in its service. The time was not yet come, but it was approaching, when the proud city would be compelled to arm the hands of slaves in her defence.

The apprehension that Hannibal, after his victory over Flaminius, would march straight upon Rome, proved unfounded. Hannibal knew perfectly well that, with his reduced army, his few remaining Spanish and African veterans, and with the unsteady Gauls, he could not lay siege to such a town as Rome. His plan had been from the very beginning to induce the Roman allies to revolt, and in union with them to strike at the head of his foe. He calculated above all on the Sabellian nations in the heart of Italy. They had offered the longest and stoutest resistance to the Roman supremacy. If he succeeded in gaining their co-operation, his great plan was realised, Carthage was avenged, and Rome annihilated or permanently weakened. Hannibal therefore did not remain long in Etruria, which was entirely in his power, and where he would have found ample resources and booty for his army. It seems that he did not expect much help from the Etruscans, who were too fond of peace and quiet, and looked upon his allies, the Gauls, their old national enemies and despoilers, with unmitigated distrust. After an unsuccessful attempt to surprise Spoletium, he marched westwards, through Umbria and Picenum, to the coast of the Adriatic. These rich and well-cultivated districts now felt the scourge of war. The Roman settlers, who, since the agrarian law of Flaminius, were very numerous in Picenum, suffered most. No doubt Hannibal followed the same rule which since his first victory he had observed with regard to the Roman citizens and Roman allies that fell into his hands. The former he had treated, if not cruelly, yet with harshness and severity, by keeping them as prisoners and loading them with chains. The latter he had endeavoured to gain over by his generosity, and had dismissed them without ransom. There is something, therefore, perplexing in the statement of Polybius, that Hannibal now put to death all the men capable of bearing arms that fell into his hands. We have no hesitation in declaring this to be a pure fiction or a gross exaggeration. By such an act of cruelty, Hannibal, even if he had been capable of it, would have interfered with the success of his own plan. But we can hardly hold him capable of causing the murder of inoffensive people, when the utmost severity he showed to soldiers taken in battle was imprisonment. The Roman reports were therefore either inspired by national hatred, or caused by isolated acts of barbarity, such as occur even in the best disciplined armies, not with the sanction, but against the explicit order of the commander-in-chief.

Yet, though in all probability the lives of the people of Picenum were spared, their property was forfeited to the wants and the rapacity of the invading host. Hannibal’s soldiers had not yet recovered from the hardships of the preceding winter and spring, and from their wounds received in battle. A malignant skin disease was spread among them. The horses were overworked and in wretched condition. Now, in the beautiful mild spring weather, Hannibal gave his army time to repose and to recover. The country on the Adriatic produced wine, oil, corn, fruit in abundance. There was more than could be consumed or carried away. Now, at length, the army was in the possession and enjoyment of the rich land which on the snow-covered heights of the Alps had been promised to them as the reward for their fidelity, courage, and endurance.

But the time had not yet arrived for mere enjoyment and repose, as if the hardships of war were all over. Hannibal made use of the short interval of rest, the fruit of his victory, to arm a portion of his army in the Roman style. The quantities of arms taken in battle sufficed to equip the African infantry with the short swords and the large shields of the Roman legionary soldiers. We cannot imagine a more striking proof of the superiority of the Roman equipment, and consequently of the instinctive aptitude of the Roman people for war, than the fact that the greatest general of antiquity, in the heart of the hostile country, exchanged the accustomed native armament of his soldiers for that of the Romans.

A march of ten days had brought Hannibal from the lake Thrasymenus across the Apennines to the shore of the Adriatic. Having reached the sea coast, he renewed the communication with Carthage which had long been interrupted, and sent home the first direct and official report of his victorious career. Of course the Carthaginians were not ignorant of his proceedings. The sudden withdrawal of the Roman legions, which had been sent to Sicily for an expedition into Africa, was in itself a sufficient intimation that the Romans were attacked in Italy. Carthaginian cruisers hovered about the Italian coasts. At Cosa, on the coast of Etruria, a fleet of Roman transports had been taken. The state of affairs in Italy was therefore, on the whole, perfectly well known in Carthage. Nevertheless, the first direct message from Hannibal, and the authentic narrative of his immense success, produced raptures of joy and enthusiasm, which showed that Hannibal was supported by the consentient voice of his countrymen. The Carthaginians resolved to continue with all their strength the war in Italy and Spain, and to reinforce in every possible manner, not only Hannibal, but his brother Hasdrubal in Spain.

Having completely restored and reorganised his army, Hannibal left the sea-board, and marched again into the midland parts of Italy, where the genuine Italians lived, who vied with the Romans and Latins for the prize of courage. He passed through the country of the Marsians, Marrucinians, and Pelignians into the northern part of Apulia, called Daunia. Everywhere he offered his friendship and alliance for a war with Rome, but everywhere he met with refusals. Not a single town opened her gates to him. All were as yet unshaken in their fidelity to Rome. No doubt this fidelity was due in part to the character of the Roman government, which was not unjust or oppressive, and allowed to the subjects a full measure of self-government and partly it was produced by fear of the revenge which Rome would take if in the end she proved victorious. But it is apparent that another motive operated at the same time. A feeling of Italian nationality had grown up. The Italians had been bound together with the Romans by the fear which they both entertained of the Gauls, the worst enemies of their fertile country. As the numerous tribes of Greeks learnt to feel and act as one nation in their common war with the Persians, thus the Italians first became conscious of being a kindred race in consequence of the repeated invasions of the Gauls, and they learnt to look for safety in a close union under the leadership of Rome. These Gauls, the hereditary enemies of all Italy, were now the most numerous combatants in Hannibal’s army. It was chiefly their cooperation that made the present war so terrible, and threatened universal devastation, ruin, and extermination. These feelings of the Italians were the disturbing force which crossed Hannibal’s expectations. Nevertheless, he did not yet despair of the ultimate success of his plan. Perhaps his sword could yet break the charm which bound up the Italians with Rome. If they were acted upon mainly by fear, he had only to show that he was more to be feared than the Romans, and that they risked more in remaining faithful to their masters than in joining the invader.

The fidelity of the allies was justified by the firmness which the Romans displayed. Stunned for a moment by the terrible blow of the late battle, the senate had speedily recovered its composure, its confidence, and its genuine Roman determination. There were no thoughts of yielding, of compromise, or peace; but the spirit of unwavering resistance animated the senate and every individual Roman. Not a single soldier was withdrawn from Spain, Sardinia, or Sicily. The spirit with which Rome was determined to carry on the war was most clearly expressed hi the order issued to the different Italian districts threatened by the Punic army. It enjoined the people to take refuge in the nearest fortresses, to set fire to the farm-houses and villages, to lay waste their fields, and to drive away the cattle. Italy was to become a desert, rather than support the foreign invaders.

It was in truth not advisable for a Roman army now to venture on an encounter in the open field with the irresistible conqueror. The losses of the Trebia and the Thrasymenus could indeed be quickly replaced by new levies, and Fabius ordered four new legions to be raised. But the impression produced by the repeated defeats could not be so easily effaced. The self-confidence of the Roman soldiers was gone. Before they again crossed swords with the dreaded enemy, they had to learn to look him in the face. Among the new levies there was, no doubt, a proportion of old soldiers who had served in former campaigns, but the majority were young recruits; for the large levies, recently made, could not have been effected unless the younger men had been enlisted in considerable numbers. The most difficult task, however, must have been that of replacing the centurions and higher officers who had fallen in battle; and the want of a sufficient number of experienced officers must have made the newly-raised legions still more unfit to encounter Hannibal's formidable veterans.

These circumstances necessarily imposed on Fabius the utmost caution, even though he had not been by nature inclined to it. Before he could venture on a battle, he was obliged to accustom his army to war, and to revive the courage and self-confidence which generally characterised the Roman soldier. He did this skilfully and persistently, and thus he rendered the most essential service that any general could at that time render to the state. He marched (probably with four legions) through Samnium into northern Apulia, and encamped in the neighbourhood of Hannibal near Aecae. In vain the latter tried to draw him out of his camp, and to force on an engagement. Neither the haughty challenges of the Punians, nor the sight of the devastations which they committed round about, nor the impatience of Marcus Minucius, his master of the horse, could induce the wary old Fabius to change his cautious strategy. At length, Hannibal marched past him into the mountains of Samnium, and thus forced him to follow. But Fabius followed more cautiously than Flaminius. He was naturally the cunctator, and moreover he had before his eyes the disaster that had befallen Flaminius. Hannibal had no chance of coming upon him unawares. He passed through the country of the Hirpinians and Caudinians without impediment or resistance. For the third time in this one year he crossed the Apennines, and suddenly appeared in the Campanian plain. It was to be made clear to all the Italians that the Punians were masters of Italy, and that no Roman ventured to oppose them.

The plain of Campania was the garden of Italy. Its fertility is proved by the many flourishing towns which, in a wide circle, surrounded Capua, the largest and richest of them all. Hannibal had already found partisans in Capua, and he was in hopes that this city, which of old was a rival of Rome, would join his cause. Among the captives whom he bad discharged after the battle on the Thrasymene, there were three Capuan knights. These had promised their services, and it was no doubt in order to support and back their plans by the presence of his army that he appeared now before the town. But the fruit was not yet ripe. Capua, remained faithful to Rome. Hannibal, therefore, did not remain longer in Campania than was sufficient to plunder and lay waste the fertile Falernian plain north of the Volturnus. The dictator Fabius had followed in the track of the enemy across the Apennines, and was encamped on the summit of the mountain ridge of Massieus, which, from Casilinum, the modern Capua, on the Volturnus, extends in a north­westerly direction as far as the sea, and borders the Falernian plain on the north. From this high and safe position, the Romans could see how the villages of the plain were consumed by the flames, and how the cultivated fields were changed into wastes. But nothing could induce Fabius to leave the heights and to offer battle in the plain. Under these circumstances it appeared that chance was offering him an opportunity of dealing the enemy a decisive blow.

Hannibal had never had the intention of winter in in Campania before a strong and large town was in his possession. He set himself therefore in motion to march back into Apulia, with immense spoils and with long trains of captured cattle. It seemed feasible to intercept an army thus encum­bered somewhere in the mountainous region which lay between the plains of Campania and Apulia, a region with which the Romans had become thoroughly familiar in the Samnite wars, and which was inhabited by faithful allies. The attempt was actually made. In a spot where the pass over the mountains was contracted on one side by the river Volturnus, and on the other by steep declivities, a detachment of 4,000 Romans was posted to block up the road, whilst Fabius, with the rest of his army, had taken a strong position on the crest of a hill not far off. But it was not so easy to catch Hannibal in a trap, nor was the slow and pedantic Fabius the man to do it. No doubt Hannibal, if he had found it necessary or desirable, might have turned back and taken another road; but he preferred marching straight on. In order to clear the pass in front of him, he caused, in the night, a number of oxen, with bundles of lighted wood fastened to their horns, to be driven against the crest of the range of hills. The 4,000 men in the pass, deceived by this sight, and thinking that the Carthaginian army intended to cross the hills in that direction, left their post in the defile and hastened to the spot on the heights which they believed to be threatened. But they encountered here only a few light armed troops, whilst the bulk of the Punic army, with all their plunder, marched unmolested through the pass, which had been left without defence. During the disorder and the tumult of the night, Fabius had not ventured out of his camp; and when day broke, he could just see his soldiers being driven from the heights with great loss, and the hostile army winding through the defile and beyond his reach.

Again Hannibal marched through Samnium and crossed the Apennines for the fourth time in the same year (217 )to take up his winter-quarters in the sunny plain of Apulia. He occupied the town of Geronium between the rivers Tifernus and Trento, and established his magazines in it. For his army he constructed a fortified camp outside the town. Two-thirds of his troops he dispatched in every direction to collect supplies, while with the remaining third he kept Fabius in check, who had again followed him, without however venturing so near as to risk a battle. But during a temporary absence of the dictator, who had been obliged to go to Rome for the performance of some religious ceremonies, Minucius, the master of the horse, being left in command of the Roman forces, made an attempt to check the predatory excursions of the Carthaginians, and, as he boasted in a report to the senate, he actually succeeded in gaining some advantages. Upon this news becoming known to the people, a storm of indignation broke loose against Fabius. Had Rome fallen so low, the people asked, that they must give up Italy as a helpless prey to the haughty invader, that they must suffer him to inarch unopposed wherever he listed through the length and breadth of the peninsula, and to pillage and waste it with his African, Spanish, and Gaulish hordes? Surely it was not the duty of a Roman army to follow the enemy, to keep cautiously in a safe camp, and quietly to look on whilst the whole country was being devastated. How could it be expected that the allies would remain faithful in their allegiance if they were left exposed to all the horrors of war? Were not the Roman soldiers men of the same race that had repeatedly struck down the Gauls, and in a war of twenty years had wrested Sicily from these Carthaginians? But there was no doubt of the warlike spirit of the soldiers; the general only lacked resolution and courage. Minucius had just shown that Hannibal was not unconquerable, and if only the brave master of the horse had freedom of action, perhaps the disastrous war might now be ended with one blow.

Such views found favour in Rome, especially with the multitude, which felt most keenly the pressure of war, and was already impatient for peace. In the assembly of the tribes, accordingly, the foolish proposal was made to equalise Minucius and Fabius in the command of the army; that is to say, to destroy that unity of direction and the master authority which gave its chief value to the dictatorship in comparison with the divided command of the consuls. In the old time, when the office of the dictator was better understood as an embodiment of the majesty and authority of the whole state, it would have been impossible thus to curtail the dictatorial power. Now, however, the terrible disasters of the war had produced the effect which may be observed in the case of sick persons who have tried several remedies in vain, and are almost given up for lost. The usual and regular treatment is abandoned, and the chance remedy of some impudent quack is adopted in sheer despair. The Roman people, generally so sober, composed, and self-collected, so conservative and so full of confidence in their ancient institutions, suddenly became reckless innovators and undid their own work.

On his return into Apulia, Fabius made an arrangement with Minucius to the effect that the legions should be divided between them, and that each should act independently of the other. Fabius continued in his old practice, and, fortunately for Rome, kept near Minucius. The latter was burning with impatience to show what he could do now that he was no longer hampered by the old pedant’s timidity. Hannibal was delighted at the prospect of a battle which he had been anxious to bring about with the whole Roman army, and which was now offered by one-half of it. He again chose the battlefield with his accustomed skill, and concealed a body of 5,000 men in ambush. The battle was quickly decided, and would have ended in a rout of the Romans as complete as that of the Trebia, if Fabius ha not come up just in time to cover the retreat of his rival. Minucius felt so shamed and humbled that he laid down his independent command, and voluntarily resumed his position as master of the horse under the dictator, until, after the expiration of the six months of extraordinary command, both abdicated and handed over the legions to the consul of the year, Cn. Servilius, and his colleague, M. Attilius Regulus, who had in the meantime been elected in the place of Flaminius. The situation of affairs in Apulia remained unaltered. Hannibal, in his camp before Geronium, awaited the winter with well-filled magazines. The Romans contented themselves with watching his movements, and both parties made their preparations for the campaign of the ensuing year (21(5 B.C.).

The skill, caution, and firmness of Fabius had given Rome time to recover from the stunning blow of the battle of the Thrasymenus, and to regain self-possession and confidence. Much was profited by the mere fact that the war came to a sort of standstill; and the reputation which the ‘cunctator’ Fabius acquired, even among his contemporaries, of having saved Rome from ruin is not quite undeserved, though it is clear that his mode of war­fare was imperatively commanded by the circumstances in which he found himself. After the annihilation of the army of Flaminius, Rome was not in a position to meet the conqueror again in the field, even if all the troops had been recalled from Spain, Sicily, and Sardinia. It was necessary to create a new army, to accustom it to war, and to inspire it with courage. Only two new legions were raised. These, added to the two legions of Servilius, formed an army which in numbers may have equalled that of Hannibal, but could not be compared with it in experience, self-reliance, and general efficiency. It would have been madness, with such an army as this, to risk a battle, only a few months after the terrible disaster which had befallen Flaminius. If, nevertheless, the Roman people began to grow impatient and to clamour for a battle and a victory, we must remember they were no wiser than the populace generally is, and that they were already suffering grievously from the calamities and burdens of war.

But the Roman senate was far indeed from losing its firmness and its wonted spirit of haughty defiance. Indeed, the greatest danger that could threaten the safety of the commonwealth had not yet shown itself. The Roman allies and subjects as yet exhibited no symptom of rebellion, and as long as these remained faithful, the victories of Hannibal produced only military advantages which might at any time be counterbalanced by the fortune of war. It was therefore of the first importance to keep alive among the allies the old faith in the power of Rome, and not to yield one inch of that proud position which accepted faith and obedience as a natural duty, and not as a benefit. In this spirit the senate met an offer of some Greek cities, which sent golden vessels from their temples to Rome as a voluntary contribution towards the expenses of the war. The senate accepted the smallest of the presents, in order to honour the intention of the allies, and returned the remainder with thanks and with the assurance that the Roman commonwealth did not require any aid. The aged King Hiero of Syracuse, zealous as ever in his political attachment, to Rome, sent a golden image of the Goddess of Victory, 300,000 bushels (modii) of wheat, 200,000 of barley, and 1,000 archers and slingers. This gift was not refused. The golden Victory was placed for a good omen in the temple of the Capitoline Jupiter. The supplies of grain and the auxiliary troops were accepted as a tribute due to the protecting state. In the course of the year ambassadors were sent to the king of Macedonia, to demand the surrender of Demetrius of Pharos, who had taken refuge with him. The king of the Illyrians was reminded to pay the tribute due to Rome, and the Ligurians were warned to abstain from hostilities against the Roman republic. At the same time the maritime war and the war in Spain were carried on with vigour. In the latter country the campaign of 217 B.C. had been opened successfully. Cn. Scipio sailed from Tarraco southwards with a fleet of thirty-five vessels, in which number there were a few fast-sailing galleys of Massilia, and defeated at the mouth of the Ebro a superior Carthaginian fleet of forty ships of war, causing them a loss of twenty-five ships. After this, when a Carthaginian fleet of seventy sail cruised off Pisa, in the expectation of falling in with Hannibal, one hundred and twenty Roman ships were sent from Ostia against them under the command of the consul Servilius. But the Roman consul, not being able to find the Carthaginian fleet in the Tyrrhenian Sea, sailed to Lilybaeum, and thence to the coast of Africa. In the smaller Syrtis he landed on the island of Meninx, which he plundered, and from the island of Cereina he exacted a contribution of war amounting to 10,000 silver talents. He even ventured to land on the coast of Africa, but was repulsed with great loss. Having, on his return voyage, taken possession of the small island of Cossyra, he landed at Lilybaeum, and proceeded by the land route through Sicily and southern Italy to Rome, in order, after the expiration of the dictatorship of Fabius, to assume the command of the army in Apulia with his colleague Atilius Regulus.

Meanwhile Publius Scipio, the consul of the year 218, had been sent to Spain with a reinforcement of thirty vessels and 8,000 men. The senate considered the war in Spain to be so important that, even after the annihilation of the Flaminian army, when Hannibal seemed to be threatening Rome and was laying waste central Italy without opposition, this considerable force was withdrawn from the protection of Italy and sent to that distant country. The Romans thought that Hannibal would be isolated and powerless in Italy, if they could but prevent reinforcements being sent to him from Spain. The two brothers Scipio carried on the war in that country not less by the arts of persuasion than by the force of arms. They endeavoured to gain the friendship of the numerous independent tribes, and they skilfully availed themselves of the discontent which the recently imposed dominion of Carthage had called forth. Nor did they disdain to make use of treason. It is related that a Spanish chief, called Abelux, in order to gain the favour of the Romans, delivered into their hands a number of Spanish hostages, which were then detained by the Carthaginians in Saguntum. These hostages the Scipios sent back to their friends, and thus gained for themselves the reputation of generosity without any cost or sacrifice. Their military enterprises were confined to a few expeditions into the country south of the Ebro, which, however, did not result in any serious collision with the Carthaginians.

If ever there was a time when unity was necessary among the citizens of Rome, to avert the threatened downfall of the republic, it was in the first few years of the Hannibalian war. Even the unconditional abandonment of party spirit and the most hearty and devoted patriotism seemed hardly able to save the commonwealth. Nevertheless it was precisely at this time that dissension showed itself again, and that civil discord threatened to break out. Flaminius had been raised to the consulship chiefly as leader of the democratic party. If he had been able to defeat Hannibal, the popular cause would at the same time have triumphed over the privileged class. But the liberal politician happened to be an unsuccessful general. Through his defeat and death the nobility gained the upper hand, and Fabius was chosen to restore its full supremacy and prestige. This called forth in Rome a violent opposition. His apparent timidity, his slowness and indifference to the sufferings of the ravaged country, supplied his opponents with grounds for leaving to the charge of the nobility the intentional prolongation of the war, and enabled them at last to limit his dictatorial power by the decree which raised Minucius to an independent command. This last imprudent measure had been carried chiefly through the influence of C. Terentius Varro, a man who, in spite of his low birth, had been raised successively to several of the high offices of the republic, from the quaestorship upwards, and was now actually a candidate for the consulship. He evidently enjoyed the full confidence of the people, and he was consequently elected for the year 216, in spite of the opposition of the nobility, whilst of three patrician candidates none obtained a sufficient number of votes. Thus Varro, being alone elected, held the comitia for the election of a colleague, and used his influence in favour of Lucius Aemilius Paulus, a man of well-known military capacity. Paulus had, three years before, commanded in Illyria, and had in a very short time brought that war to a successful issue; he had afterwards been suspected of dishonesty in the division of the spoil, but had escaped condemnation, and now enjoyed the confidence of the nobility in fuller measure, as, in opposition to the plebeian Varro, he represented the principles of the old families. The annalists have accordingly shown him especial favour, and have done their best to throw the blame for the great misfortune that was about to befall Rome on the shoulders of his colleague Varro, the butcher’s son.

It had become evident that Hannibal could not be conquered by a Roman army of equal strength. Four legions opposed to him could do no more than watch and embarrass his movements, and limit his freedom of foraging and of plundering the country, even though they might, under favourable circumstances, venture to attack detached portions of the enemy. This had been the practice of Fabius; it had answered its purpose for the time, but it was not calculated to bring the war to an end, and, by exposing the Italians for an indefinite period to the calamities of war, it tried their fidelity too long. The Romans now resolved to end this state of things before it was too late, and before either the allies should revolt or reinforcements reach Hannibal from. Africa or Spain. The senate resolved to add four new legions to those of the preceding year, and to raise the strength of each legion from 4,200 foot and 200 horse to 5,000 foot and 300 horse. Thus the army opposed to Hannibal numbered, with the allies, not less than 80,000 foot and 6,000 horse. It was a force larger than any that Rome had ever sent against an enemy. On the Trebia and the Thrasymenus the Roman armies had reached only half that strength, and in the earlier wars a single consular army of two legions had generally been sufficient. But now the object was to crush Hannibal by an overwhelming force, and the new consuls received positive orders from the senate to offer a battle.

This was, indeed, not only advisable but absolutely necessary. An army of nearly 90,000 men could only with the greatest difficulty be fed in a country which, almost for a whole year, had been made to support both the Roman and the Carthaginian armies, and which was no doubt thoroughly exhausted. Moreover, Hannibal had, before the arrival of the new consuls, left his position near Geronium, and had seized the citadel of Cannae, not far from the sea, on the south of the river Aufidus, where the Romans had established a magazine for the supply of their army. The eight legions were therefore obliged to retire to another part of the country, or to risk a battle.

According to the account of the Roman annalists, which Polybius adopted, the two consuls could not agree on the plan of battle to be adopted. Varro, carried away, it was said, with blind self-confidence, hurried on a decision, as soon as the hostile armies were in front of each other, whilst the more cautious Aemilius, following in the foot­steps of Fabius, urged that they should avoid a battle in the plains of Apulia, where Hannibal’s superior cavalry had free scope to act. But the successfulness of a skirmish among the outposts had the effect, perhaps intended by Hannibal, of raising the courage of the Romans and inducing them to move forward. They now established their camp on the right bank of the Aufidus, not far from the camp of Hannibal.

The two consuls had the chief command of the army in turn on alternate days. This arrangement, which seemed purposely devised to exclude uniformity and systematic order from the strategic movements, may have been good enough in a war with barbarians; but in a contest with Hannibal it went far towards neutralising all the advantages which the innate courage of the Romans and their great superiority in numbers gave them. It is no doubt an exaggeration that Varro alone was responsible for the advancing movement of the Roman army into the immediate proximity of the enemy, and for the necessity of accepting the battle which was the inevitable result. It appears, on the contrary, that both Paulus and Varro, in conformity with the orders of the senate and by the force of circumstances, made no attempt to avoid a battle; but if the views of the two consuls did not agree in every respect, if one of them hurried on the decision whilst the other preferred to wait for ever so short a time, it is possible that one of them could compel his colleague to accept the very conditions of battle which he had from the first disapproved.

The two armies were now so near each other that a battle was inevitable; and this was clear to Aemilius Paulus himself. On the day, therefore, on which he had the supreme command he divided the legions, and passed with about one-third of his forces from the camp which was on the right bank of the Aufidus, to the left bank, where, a short distance lower down and nearer to the enemy, he erected a second and smaller camp. This movement towards the Carthaginian army was evidently a challenge, and shows very clearly with what degree of security and self-confidence the Roman armies could manoeuvre in the immediate neighbourhood of the enemy. Hannibal was highly delighted at the resolution of the Romans. A whole year had passed since the battle on the lake Thrasymenus, a year in which all his attempts to bring on a battle had been vain. Now, at length, his wish was gratified, and, confident of success, he looked forward to the great passage of arms which was to arbitrate between his own country and her deadly foe.

In Rome the collision between the two armies was looked for day after day, and the town was in the most anxious suspense. After the repeated disasters of the last two years, the confident expectation of victory was gone. Like a desperate gambler, Rome had now doubled her stake; and if fortune went against her once more, it seemed that all must be irrecoverably lost. At such times man feels keenly his dependence on higher powers. The Romans especially were liable to convulsions of superstitious fear; they were, as Polybius says, powerful in prayers; when great dangers threatened, they implored gods and men for help, and thought no practices unbecoming or unworthy of them that are usual under such circumstances. Accordingly the population was feverish with religious excitement; the temples were crowded, the gods besieged with prayers and sacrifices; warnings and prophecies of old seers were in everybody’s mouth, and every house and every heart was divided between hope and fear.

The Aufidus (now called Ofanto) is the most considerable of the numerous coast-rivers which flow eastward from the Apennines into the Adriatic Sea; but its broad bed is filled only in winter and spring. It was now the early part of summer, about the middle of June; and the river was so narrow and shallow that it could be crossed everywhere without any serious difficulty. In the neighbourhood of the smaller Roman camp the Aufidus made a sudden sharp bend towards the south or south­east, and after a short distance turned again to the north­east, which is the general direction of its course. Here, on the left or northern bank, was the battle-field selected by Varro. In the larger camp on the right bank of the river, and a little way higher up, he left only a garrison of 10,000 men, with orders to attack, during the battle, the Carthaginian camp, which was on the same side of the river, and thus to divide the attention and the forces of the enemy. With the remainder of his infantry and 6,000 horse he crossed the Aufidus, and drew up his army in the usual manner, having the legions in the middle and the cavalry on the wings, with his front looking southward and the river on his right. As the infantry consisted of eight legions, the front ought to have had twice the length of two usual consular armies. But instead of doubling the breadth of front Varro doubled the depth, probably for the purpose of using the new levies, not for the attack, but for increasing the pressure of the attacking column. Thus it happened that, in spite of the great numerical superiority of the Romans, they did not present a broader front than the Carthaginians. On the right flank of the infantry, leaning on the river, stood the Roman horse, which contained the sons of the noblest families, and formed the flower of the army. The much more numerous cavalry of the allies was stationed on the left wing. Before the front there were, as usual, the light troops, which always began the engagement, and retired through the intervals of the heavy infantry behind the line after they had discharged their weapons. The Roman cavalry on the right was commanded by Paulus, and the cavalry of the allies on the left wing by Varro, while Cn. Servilius, the consul of the preceding year, and Minucius, the master of the horse under Fabius, led the legions in the centre.

As soon as Hannibal saw that the Romans offered battle, he also led his troops, 40,000 foot and 10,000 horse, across the river, which he had now in his rear. In taking this position he risked no more than his situation at the time warranted, for he knew that a defeat would, under any circumstances, end in the total destruction of his army, he drew up his infantry opposite the Roman legions; but, instead of forming them in a straight line, he advanced the Spaniards and Gauls in a semicircle in the centre, placing the Africans on their right and left, but at some distance behind them. On his left wing, by the bank of the Aulidus, and opposed to the Roman cavalry, were the heavy Spanish and Gaulish horse, under Hasdrubal; on the right, under Hanno, the light Numidians. Hannibal, with his brave brother Mago, took his position in the centre of his infantry, to be able to survey and to guide the battle in every direction. His African infantry was armed in the Roman fashion with the spoils of his previous victories; the Spaniards wore white linen coats with red borders, and carried short straight swords, fit for cut and thrust; the Gauls, naked down to the waist, brandished their long sabres, suitable only for cutting. The aspect of these huge barbarians, who had after the recent battles regained the prestige of bravery and invincibility, could not fail to make a deep impression upon the Roman soldiers, and to fill them with anxiety and misgivings for the result of the impending conflict.

The sun had been two hours risen when the battle began. When the light skirmishers had been scattered, the heavy horsemen of the Carthaginians dashed, in close ranks and with an irresistible shock, upon the Roman cavalry. For one moment these stood their ground, man against man, and horse against horse, as if they were welded into one compact mass. Then this mass began to waver and to be broken up. The Gauls and Spaniards forced their way among the disorganised squadrons of their antagonists, and cut them down almost to a man. Pushing forward, they soon found themselves in the rear of the Roman infantry, and fell upon the allied cavalry on the left wing of the Romans, which was at the same time attacked in front by the Numidians. Their appearance in this quarter soon decided the contest here; the allied horsemen were driven off the field. Hasdrubal intrusted their pursuit to the Numidians, and fell with all his forces upon the rear of the Roman infantry, where the young inexperienced troops were placed, of whom many had never yet met an enemy in the field.

Meanwhile the Roman infantry had driven in the Spaniards and Gauls who formed the advanced centre of the Carthaginian line. Pressing against them from the right and the left, the Romans contracted their front more and more, and advanced like a wedge against the retiring centre of the Carthaginian army. When they were on the point of breaking through it, the African infantry on the right and left fell upon the Roman flanks. At the same time the heavy Spanish and Gaulish cavalry broke upon them from behind, and the retiring hostile infantry in front returned to the charge. Thus the huge unwieldy masses of the Roman infantry were crowded upon one another in helpless confusion and surrounded on all sides. Whilst the outer ranks were falling fast, thousands stood idle in the centre, pressed close against each other, unable to strike a blow, penned in like sheep, and doomed to wait patiently until it should be their turn to be slaughtered. Never before had Mars, the god of battle, gorged himself so greedily with the blood of his children. It seems beyond comprehension that in a close combat, man to man, the conquerors could strike down with cold steel more than their own number. The physical exertion alone must have been almost superhuman. The carnage lasted nearly the whole day. Two hours before the sun went down, the Roman army was annihilated, and more than one-half of it lay dead on the field of battle. The consul Aemilius Paulus had been wounded at the very beginning of the conflict, when his horsemen were routed by the Carthaginian horse. Then he had endeavoured, in spite of his wound, to rally the infantry and to lead them to the charge; but he could not keep his seat in the saddle, and fell, unknown, in the general slaughter. The same fate overtook the proconsul Cn. Servilius, the late master of the horse Minucius, two quaestors, twenty-one military tribunes, and not less than eighty senators—an almost incredible number, which shows that the Roman senate consisted not only of talking but also of fighting men, and was well qualified to be the head of a warlike people. The consul Terentius Varro, who had commanded the cavalry of the allies on the left wing, escaped with about seventy horsemen to Venusia.

It was not Hannibal’s custom to leave his work half-done. Immediately after the battle he took the larger Roman camp. The attack which its garrison of 10,000 men had made on the Carthaginian camp during the battle had failed; and the Romans, driven back behind their ramparts, and despairing of being able to resist the victorious army, were compelled to surrender. The same fate befell the garrison and the fugitives who had sought shelter in the smaller camp. Nevertheless, the number of prisoners was very small in comparison with that of the slain; it amounted to about 10,000 men. In Canusium, Venusia, and other neighbouring towns, about 3,000 fugitives were rallied. Many more were dispersed in all directions. This unparalleled victory, which surpassed his boldest expectations, had cost Hannibal not quite 6,000 men, and among them only two hundred of the brave horsemen to whom it was principally due.

Great as was the material loss of the Romans in this most disastrous battle, it was less serious than the effect produced by it upon the morals of the Roman people. Throughout the whole course of the war they never quite recovered from the shock which their courage and self-confidence had sustained. From this time forward Hannibal was invested in their eyes with supernatural powers. They could no longer venture to face him like a common mortal enemy of flesh and blood. Their knees trembled at the very mention of his name, and the bravest man felt unnerved at the thought of his presence. This dread stood Hannibal in the place of a whole army, and did battle for him when the war had carried off his African and Spanish veterans, and when Italian recruits made up the bulk of his forces. How stupefied and bewildered the Romans felt by the stunning blow at Cannae may be seen from one striking instance. Several Romans knights, young men of the first families, had so completely lost all hope of saving their country from utter ruin, that in their despair they conceived the wild plan of escaping to the sea-coast, and seeking shelter in some foreign country. From this dishonourable plan they were diverted only by the energetic intervention of the youthful P. Cornelius Scipio, who, forcing his way among them, is said to have drawn his sword, and threatened to run through any one that refused to take an oath never to abandon his country.

The patriotic annalists did all that they could to assign as the cause of the Roman defeat the perfidious cunning of the Punians. This intention becomes especially evident in Appian’s description of the battle, and in his concluding remarks. It was related that Hannibal placed a body of men in an ambush, and that during the battle these men attacked the Romans in the rear; moreover, that five hundred Numidians or Celtiberians approached the Roman lines under the pretext of desertion, and being received without suspicion, and left unguarded in the heat of the battle, attacked the Romans and threw them into confusion. Nature itself was made to favour the Carthaginians and to help them to gain the victory, like the cold weather on the Trebia and the mist at the lake Thrasymenus. A violent south wind carried clouds of dust into the faces of the Romans, without in the least incommoding the Carthaginians, whose front looked northward. According to Zonaras, Hannibal had actually calculated upon this friendly wind, and to increase its efficacy he had on the previous day caused the land which lay to the south of the battle-field to be ploughed up. In such silly stories some writers sought consolation for their wounded feelings; but on the whole it must he confessed that the Roman people, though writhing and suffering under the blows of Hannibal, and deeply wounded in their national pride, admitted their defeat frankly, and instead of falsifying it, or obliterating it from their memory, were spurred on by it to new courage and to a perseverance which could not fail to lead in the end to victory.

The overthrow at Cannae was so complete that every other nation but the Romans would at once have given up the idea of further resistance. It seemed that the pride of Rome must now at last be humbled, and that she was as helplessly at the mercy of the invader as after the fatal battle on the Allia. What chance was there now of resisting this foe, whose victories became only the more crushing as the ranks of the legions became more dense? Since he had appeared on the south side of the Alps, no Roman had been able to resist him, and every successive blow which he had dealt had been harder. It seemed impossible that Italy could any longer bear within her own limits such an enemy as the Punic army. If Rome was unable to protect her allies, they had no alternative but to perish or to join the foreign invader.

This was from the beginning Hannibal’s calculation; and now it appeared that his boldest hopes were about to be realised, and that the moment of revenge for the wrongs of Carthage was approaching. Nevertheless this truly great man was not swayed by the feeling that he might now indulge in the pleasure of retaliation. More than this pleasure he valued the safety and the welfare of his country, and he was ready to sacrifice his personal feelings to higher considerations. In spite of his victories, he had learnt to appreciate the superior strength of Rome; and instead of still further trying the fortune of war, he resolved now, in the full career of victory, to seize the first opportunity for concluding peace. His envoy, Carthalo, who went to Rome to negotiate about the ransom of the Roman prisoners, was commissioned by him to show his readiness for entertaining any proposals of peace which the Romans might be willing to make. But Hannibal did not know the spirit of the Roman people, if he thought that it was broken now; and he, like Pyrrhus, was to discover that he had undertaken to fight with the Hydra.

The feverish excitement which prevailed in Rome during the time of the expected conflict did not last very long. Messengers of evil ride fast. Though no official report was sent by the surviving consul, the news of the defeat reached Rome, nobody knew how, and the first rumour went even beyond the extent of the actual calamity. It was said that the whole army was annihilated, and both consuls dead. On this dreadful day Rome was saved only by the circumstance that the whole breadth of Italy lay between it and the conqueror. If, as in the first Gallic war, the battle had been fought within sight of the Capitol, nothing could have saved town from a second destruction, and Hannibal would not have been bought off, like Brennus, with a thousand pounds of gold.

The Roman people gave themselves up to despair. They thought the last, hour of the republic was come, and many who had lost their nearest friends or relatives in the slaughter of battle may have been almost indifferent as to any further calamities which might be in store for them. The city was almost in a state of actual anarchy. The consuls, and most of the other magistrates, were absent or dead. A small remnant only of the senate was left in Rome. In one battle eighty senators had shed their blood, and many, no doubt, were absent with the armies in Gaul, Spain, Sicily, or elsewhere oil public service. In this urgency the senators who happened to be on the spot took the reins of government into their hands, and strove by their calm and dignified firmness to counteract the effects of the general consternation. Q. Fabius Maximus was the soul of their deliberations. On his proposition the measures were determined upon which the urgency of the danger required. Guards were placed at the gates to prevent a general rush from the city; for it seemed that, as after the rout of the Allia, 174 years before, the terrified citizens thought of seeking shelter elsewhere, and were giving up Rome for lost. Horsemen were dispatched on the Appian and Latin roads to gather whatever tidings they could from messengers or fugitives. All men who could give information were brought before the authorities. Strict orders were given to prevent vague alarm, and the women who filled the streets with their lamentations were made to retire into the interior of the houses. All assemblies and gatherings of the people were broken up, and silence restored in the city. At length a messenger arrived with a letter from Varro, which revealed the extent of the calamity. Though it confirmed, on the whole, the evil tidings which had anticipated it, yet it contained some consolation. One consul at least, and a portion of the army, had escaped; and (what was the most welcome news for the present) Hannibal was not on his march to Rome, but still far away in Apulia, busy with his captives and his booty.

Thus at least a respite was gained. The old courage returned by degrees. The time for mourning the dead was limited to thirty days. Measures were taken for raising a new force. A fleet was lying ready at Ostia, to sail under the command of M. Claudius Marcellus to Sicily, whence disquieting news had arrived that the Carthaginians had attacked the Syracusan territory and were threatening Lilybaeum. Under the present circumstances the anxiety for the safety of Sicily had to give place to the care for the defence of the capital. A body of 1,500 troops was transferred from the fleet at Ostia to garrison Rome, and a whole legion from the same naval force was ordered to march through Campania to Apulia for the purpose of collecting the scattered remains of the defeated army. With this legion Marcellus proceeded to Canusium, only three miles from the fatal field of Canute, and, relieving Varro from the command in Apulia, requested him to return to Rome. The Roman historians relate, with national pride, that all civil discord was at once buried in the present danger of the commonwealth, that the senators went out to meet the defeated consul, and expressed their thanks to him for not despairing of the republic. Such sentiments were honourable and worthy of the best days of Rome; but if it were true that Varro had caused the disaster of Cannae by his folly and incapacity—if indeed he had forced on the battle against the instructions of the senate and the advice of his colleague—in that case the acknowledgment of his merits, and the generous and conciliatory spirit exhibited by the senate, would have been a virtue all the more questionable inasmuch as it could not fail to have the effect of reinstating Varro in the confidence of the people and of again intrusting him with high office. But we have already been constrained to doubt the report of Varro’s incapacity, and the conduct of the senate after the battle of Cannae justifies this doubt. In the course of the war Varro rendered his country many important services, and he was always esteemed a good soldier. On the present occasion it is reported that the dictatorship was offered to him, but that he refused it because he considered his defeat at Cannae as a bad omen. Having nominated M. Junius Pera dictator, he returned at once to the theatre of war, leaving to the dictator the management of the government, the levying of new troops, and the duty of presiding over the election of the consuls for the ensuing year.

Second Period of the Hannibalian War

FROM THE BATTLE OF CANNAE TO THE REVOLUTION IN SYRACUSE, 216-215 B.C.

Unvarying success had accompanied Hannibal from the first moment of his setting foot in Italy, and had risen higher and higher until it culminated in the crowning victory at Cannae. From this time the vigour of Hannibal’s attach relaxes; its force seems spent. The war continues, but it is changed in character; it is spread over a greater space; its unity and dramatic interest are gone. For Hannibal those difficulties begin which are inseparable from a campaign in a foreign country at a great distance from the native resources. His subsequent career in Italy is not marked by triumphs on the colossal scale of the victories at the Trebia, the Thrasymenus, and Cannae. He remains indeed the terror of the Romans, and scatters or crushes on every occasion the legions that venture to oppose him in the field, but, in spite of the insurrection of many of the Roman allies and of the undaunted spirit of the Carthaginian government, it becomes now more and more apparent that the resources of Rome are superior to those of her enemies. Gradually she rises from her fall. Slowly she recovers strength and confidence. Yielding on no point, she keeps up vigorously the defensive against Hannibal, whilst she passes to the offensive in the other theatres of war, in Spain, Sicily, and finally in Africa; and, having thoroughly reduced and weakened the strength of her adversary, she deals a last and decisive blew against Hannibal himself.

Unfortunately we lose after the battle of Cannae the most valuable witness, on whom we have chiefly relied for the earlier events of the war. Of the great historical work of Polybius only the first five books are preserved entire, while of the remaining thirty-five we have only detached fragments, valuable indeed, but calculated wore to make us feel the greatness of the loss than to satisfy our curiosity. Polybius has almost the authority of a contemporary writer, though the Hannibalian war was ended when he was still a child. He wrote when the memory of these events was fresh, and information could easily be obtained—when exaggerations and lies, such as are found in later writers, had not yet ventured into publicity or found credence. He was conscientious in sifting evidence, in consulting documents, and visiting the scenes of the events which he narrates. As a Greek writing on Roman affairs, he was free from that national vanity which in Roman annalists is often very offensive. Though he admires Rome and Roman institutions, he brings to bear upon his judgment the enlightenment of a man trained in all the knowledge of Greece, and of a statesman and a soldier experienced in the management of public affairs. He is indeed not free from errors and faults. His intimate friendship with some of the houses of the Roman nobility biassed his judgment in favour of the aristocratic government, and his connexion with Scipio-Aemilianus made him, willingly or unconsciously, the panegyrist of the members of that family. He is guilty of occasional oversights, omissions, or errors, some of which we have noticed; but, taking him for all in all, he is one of our truest guides in the history of the ancient world, and we cannot sufficiently regret the loss of the greater part of his work. Fortunately the third decade of Livy, which gives a connected account of the Hannibalian war, is preserved, and we find in the fragments of Dion Cassius, Diodorus, and Appian, and in the abridgment of Zonaras, as well as in some other later extracts, occasional opportunities for completing our knowledge. But it cannot be denied that, with some exceptions, the history of the war flags after the battle of Cannae. The figure of Hannibal, the most interesting of all the actors in that great drama, retires more into the background. We know for certain that he was as great in the years of comparative, or apparent, inactivity as in the time which ended with the triumph at Cannae; but we cannot follow him into the recesses of southern Italy, nor watch his ceaseless labours in organising the means and laying the plans for carrying on the war in Italy, Sicily, Spain, Greece, Gaul, and in all the seas. We know that he was ever at work, ready at all times to pounce upon any Roman army that ventured too near him, terrible as ever to his enemies, full of resources, unyielding in the face of multiplied difficulties, and unconquered in battle, until the command of his country summoned him from Italy to Africa. But of the details of these exploits we have a very inadequate knowledge, partly because no history of the war written on the Carthaginian side has been preserved, and partly because the full narrative of Polybius is lost.

The disaster of Cannae, it appears, had long been foretold, but the warnings of the friendly deity had been cast to the winds. More than that, the Roman people had been guilty of a great offence. The altar of Vesta had been desecrated. Two of her virgins had broken the vow of chastity. It is true they had grievously atoned for their sin : one had died a voluntary death, the other had suffered the severe punishment which the sacred law imposed. She was entombed in her grave alive, and left there to perish; the wretch who had seduced her was scourged to death in the public market by the chief pontiff. But the conscience of the people was not at ease. A complete purification and an act of atonement seemed required to relieve the feeling of guilt and to regain the favour of the outraged deity. Accordingly an embassy was sent to Greece to consult the oracle of Apollo at Delphi. The chief of this embassy was Fabius Pictor, the first writer who composed a continuous history of Rome from the foundation of the city to his own time. But even before the reply of the Greek god could be received, something had to be done to calm the apprehensions of the public, and to set at rest their religious terrors. The Romans had national prophecies, preserved like the Sibylline books, with which they were often confounded. These books of fate were now consulted, and they revealed the pleasure of a barbarous deity, which again claimed, as during the last Gallic war nine years before, to be appeased by human sacrifices. A Greet man and a Greek woman, a Gaul and a Gaulish woman were again buried alive. By such cruel practices the leading men at Rome showed that they were not prevented by the influence of Greek civilisation and enlightenment from working on the abject superstition of the multitude, and from adding to their material strength and patriotic devotion by religious fanaticism.

The superiority of Rome over Carthage lay chiefly in the vast military population of Italy, which in one way or another was subject to the republic and available for the purposes of war. At the time of the last enumeration, which took place in 225 B.C. on the occasion of the threatened Gaulish attack, the number of men capable of bearing arms is said to have amounted to nearly 800,000, and in all probability that statement fell short of the actual number. Here was a source of power that seemed inexhaustible. Nevertheless the war had hardly lasted two years before a difficulty was felt to fill up the gaps which bloody battles had made in the Roman ranks. Since the engagement on the Ticinus the Romans must have lost in Italy alone 120,000 men, actually slain or taken prisoners, without reckoning those who succumbed to disease and the fatigues and privations of the prolonged campaigns. This loss was felt most severely by the Roman citizens; for these were kept by Hannibal in captivity whilst the prisoners of the allies were discharged. Whether the latter were enrolled again, we are not informed. At any rate a corresponding number of men was spared for the necessary domestic labour, for agriculture and the various trades; and consequently the allies who remained faithful to Rome could more easily replace the dead, although they also had already reached that point of exhaustion where war begins to undermine, not only the public welfare, but society itself in the first conditions of its existence. Men capable of bearing arms are, in other words, men capable of working; and it is upon work that civil society and every political community is finally based. If, therefore, only one-tenth of the labour strength of Italy was consumed in two years, and if another tenth was needed for carrying on the war, we may form an idea of the fearful disorganisation which was rapidly spreading over Italy, of the check to every sort of productive industry at a time when the state, deprived of so many of its most valuable citizens, was obliged to raise its demands in proportion, and to exact more and more sacrifices from the survivors. The prevalence of slavery alone explains how it was possible to take away every fifth man from peaceful occupations and employ him in military service. The institution of slavery, though incompatible by its very nature with the moral or even the material progress of man, and though always a social and political evil of the worst kind, has at certain times been of great temporary advantage; for, by relieving the free citizens to a great extent from the labour necessary for existence, it has set them free to devote themselves either to intellectual pursuits, to the cultivation of science and of art, or to war. We have no direct testimony of the extent to which slave-labour was employed in Italy at the time of the second Punic war; but we have certain indications to show that, if not everywhere in Italy, at least among the Romans, and in all the larger towns, the number of slaves was very considerable. (The noble Romans were, even in the field, accompanied by slaves, who served as grooms, or carriers of baggage).

These remarks are suggested by the statements of the measures which the dictator M. Junius took after the battle of Cannae for the defence of the country. In order to raise four new legions and one thousand horse, he was compelled to enroll young men who had only just entered on the military age; nay, he went even further, and took, probably as volunteers, boys below the age of seventeen who had not yet exchanged their purple-bordered toga (the toga praetexta) the sign of childhood, for the white toga of manhood (the toga virilis). Thus the legions were completed. For the present Rome had reached the end of her resources. But the man-devouring war claimed more victims, and the pride of the Romans stooped to the arming of slaves. Eight thousands of the most vigorous slaves, who professed their readiness to serve, were selected. They were bought by the state from their owners, were armed and formed into a separate body destined to serve by the side of the legions of Roman citizens and allies. As a reward for brave conduct in the field, they received the promise of freedom. With these slaves, six thousand criminals and debtors were set free, and enrolled for military service.

The full significance of this measure can be appreciated only if we bear in mind how the Roman government treated those unhappy citizens whom the fortune of had delivered into captivity. In the first Punic war it had been the practice of the belligerents to exchange or ransom the prisoners. It seemed a matter of course that the same practice should be observed now, provided that Hannibal was ready to waive the strict right of war which gave him permission to employ the prisoners or to sell them as slaves. From his point of view the last was evidently the most profitable, for it was his object to weaken Rome as much as possible, and Rome possessed nothing more precious than her citizens. But, as we have already noticed, he was led by higher considerations and by a wise policy to seek a favourable peace with a nation which, even after Cannae, he despaired of crushing. He selected, therefore, from among the prisoners ten of the foremost men, and sent them to Rome, accompanied by an officer named Carthalo, with instructions not only to treat with the senate for the ransom of the prisoners, but to open at the same time negotiations for peace. But in Rome the genuine Roman spirit of stubborn defiance had so completely displaced the former fears that no man thought of even mentioning the possibility of peace; and Hannibal’s messenger was warned not to approach the city. Thereupon the question was discussed in the senate, whether the prisoners of war should be ransomed. The mere possibility of treating this as an open question causes astonishment. The men whose liberty and lives were at the mercy of Hannibal were not purchased mercenaries nor strangers. They were the sons and brothers of those who had sent them forth to battle; they had obeyed the call of their country and of their duty, they had staked their lives in the field, had fought valiantly, and were guilty of no crime except this, that with arms in their hands they had allowed themselves to be overpowered by the enemy, as Roman soldiers had often done before. But in this war Rome wanted men who rated their lives as nothing, and were determined rather to die than to flee or surrender. In order to impress this necessity upon all Roman soldiers, the unfortunate prisoners of Canute were sacrificed. The senate refused to ransom them, and abandoned them to the mercy of the conqueror. At the very time when Rome armed slaves in her defence, she handed over thousands of free born citizens to be sold in the slave-markets of Utica and Carthage, and to be kept to field labour under the burning sun of Africa. We may admire the grandeur of the Roman spirit, and from some points of view it is worthy of admiration; but we are bound to express our horror and detestation of the idol of national greatness to which the Romans sacrificed their own children in cold blood.

As if they could excuse or palliate the inhuman severity of the Roman senate by painting in a still more odious light the character of the Punic general, some among the Roman annalists related that Hannibal, from spite, vexation, and inveterate hatred of the Roman people, now began to vent his rage on his unfortunate prisoners, and to torment them with the most exquisite cruelty. Many of them, they said, he killed, and from the heaped up corpses he made dams for crossing rivers; some, who broke down under the weight of the baggage which they had to carry on the marches, he caused to be maimed by having their tendons cut; the noblest of them he compelled to fight with one another like gladiators, for the amusement of his soldiers, selecting, with genuine Punic inhumanity, the nearest relations—fathers, sons, and brothers—to shed each other’s blood. But, as Diodorus relates, neither blows, nor goads, nor fire could compel the noble Romans to violate the laws of nature, and impiously to imbrue their hands with the blood of those who were nearest and dearest to them. According to Pliny, the only survivor in these horrid combats was made to fight with an elephant, and when he had killed the brute, he received indeed his freedom, which was the price that Hannibal had promised for his victory, but shortly after he had left the Carthaginian camp, he was overtaken by Numidian horsemen and cut down. If such detestable cruelties were really within the range of possibility, we should have to accuse, not only those who inflicted them, but those also who, by refusing to ransom the prisoners, exposed them to such a fate. But the silence of Polybius, and still more the silence of Livy, who would have found in the sufferings of the Roman prisoners a most welcome opportunity for rhetorical declamations on Punic barbarity, are sufficient to prove that the alleged acts of cruelty are altogether without foundation, and that they were invented for the purpose of representing Hannibal in an odious light, and of raising the character of the Romans at the expense of that of the Carthaginians.

When, on the evening of the bloody day of Cannae, Hannibal rode over the battle-field, he is reported by Appian to have burst into tears, and to have exclaimed like Pyrrhus, that he did not hope for another victory like this. It is possible that credulous Romans may have found in this childish story some consolation for the soreness of their national feelings. Put an impartial observer cannot but feel convinced that Hannibal’s heart must have swelled with pride and hope when he surveyed the whole extent of his unparalleled victory, and that he considered it cheaply purchased by the loss of only 6,000 of his brave warriors. But he did not allow himself to be carried away by the natural enthusiasm which caused the impetuous Maharbal, the commander of his light Numidian cavalry, to urge an immediate advance upon Rome, and so to put an end to the war in one run. “If”, said Maharbal, “you will let me lead the horse forthwith, and follow quickly, you shall dine on the Capitol in five days”. We may be sure that Hannibal, without waiting for Maharbal’s advice, had maturely considered the question whether the hostile capital, the final goal of his expedition, were within his reach at this moment. He decided that it was not, and we can scarcely presume to accuse the first general of antiquity of an error of judgment, and to maintain that he missed the favourable moment for crowning all his preceding victories. All that we can do is to endeavour to discover the motives which may have kept him from an immediate advance upon Rome.

After the battle of Cannae, Hannibal’s army numbered still about 44,000 men. It was surely possible with such a force as this to penetrate straight through the mountains of Samnium, and through Campania into Latium, without encountering any formidable resistance. But this march could not be accomplished in less than ten or eleven days, even if the army were not delayed by any obstacles, and marched ever so fast. The interval of time which must thus elapse between the arrival of news from the battlefield and the approach of the hostile army, would enable the Romans to make preparations for defence, and excluded, accordingly, the possibility of a surprise. Rome was not an open city, but strongly fortified by its situation and by art. Every Roman citizen up to the age of sixty was able to defend the walls, and thus, even if no reserve was at hand (which Hannibal could not take for granted), Rome was not helplessly at the mercy of an advancing army.

Failing to take Rome by a surprise, Hannibal would have been compelled to besiege it in form. This was an undertaking for which his strength was insufficient. His army was not even numerous enough to blockade the city and to cut off supplies and reinforcements from without. What could, therefore, be the result of a mere demonstration against Rome, even if it was practicable and involved no risk? It was of far greater importance to gather the certain fruits of victory—to obtain, by the conquest of some fortified towns, a new basis of operations in the south of Italy, such as he had not had since his advance from Cisalpine Gaul. Now, at last, the moment had come when Hannibal might expect to be joined by the Roman allies. The battle of Cannae had shaken their confidence in the power of Rome to protect them if faithful, or to punish their revolt; and thus were severed the strongest bonds which had hitherto secured their obedience. If Hannibal now succeeded in gaining them over to his side, his deep-laid plan would be brilliantly realised, and Rome would be more completely and securely overpowered than if he had stormed the Capitol.

Keeping this end steadily in view, Hannibal again acted precisely as he had done after his previous victories. He set the captured allies of the Romans free without ransom, and dismissed them to their respective homes, with the assurance that he had come to Italy to wage war, not with them, but with the Romans, the common enemies of Carthage and Italy. He promised them, if they would join him, his assistance for the recovery of their independence and their lost possessions, threatening them at the same time with severe punishment if they should still continue to show themselves hostile.

It causes just astonishment, and it is a convincing proof of the political wisdom and the fitness of the Roman people to rule the world, that even now the great majority of their Italian subjects remained faithful in their allegiance. Not only the citizens of the thirty-five tribes, of whom many had received the Roman franchise not as a boon, but as a, punishment—not only all the colonies, Roman as well as Latin—but also the whole Etruria, Umbria, Picenum, the genuine Sabellian races of the Sabines, Marsians, Pelignians, Vestinians, Frentamans, and Marrucinians, the Pentrian Samnites, and the Campanians, as well as all the Greek cities, remained faithful to Rome. Only in Apulia, in southern Samnium, where the Caudinians and Hirpinians lived, in Lucania and Bruttium, and especially in the city of Capua, more or less readiness was shown to revolt from Rome; but even in those places, where the greatest hostility against Rome prevailed, there was not a trace of attachment to Carthage, and everywhere there was found a zealous Roman party which opposed the Carthaginian alliance. This was, as we have hinted above, partly the consequence of the national antipathy of Italians and Punians, between natives and foreigners; partly it was the alliance of Hannibal with the Gauls, which made the Italians averse to join the invader; partly that dread of Roman revenge, of which, even after Cannae, they could not rid themselves. But it was mainly the political unity under the supremacy of Rome, which, in spite of isolated defections, bound the various races of Italy into indissoluble union, and in the end prevailed even over the genius of Hannibal.

When the Apulian towns of Arpi, Salapia, and Herdonea, and the insignificant and all but unknown Uzentum in the extreme south of Calabria, had embraced the Carthaginian cause, Hannibal marched along the Aufidus into Samnium, where the town of Compsa opened her gates to him. A portion of his army he sent under Hanno to Lucania for the purpose of organising a general insurrection among the restless population of that district; another portion, under the command of his brother Mago, he dispatched to Bruttium with the same commission, whilst he himself marched with the bulk of his army into Campania. The Lucanians and Bruttians were ready to rise against Rome. Doubtless they chafed impatiently under a government which obliged them to keep the peace; they regretted their former licence of ravaging and plundering the land of their Greek neighbours, and they hoped, with Hannibal’s sanction, to be able to resume on a large scale those practices of brigandage to which they had been so long addicted. Only two insignificant towns, Consentia and Petelia, remained faithful to Rome, and were taken by force, after an obstinate resistance.

From a port on the Bruttian coast Mago now sailed to Carthage, and conveyed to the government Hannibal's report of his last and most glorious victory, as also his views and wishes with regard to the manner of conducting the war for the future. After the battle of Cannae the character of the war in Italy was changed. Up to that time the Romans had defended themselves so vigorously that they might almost be said to have acted on the offensive. They had striven to beat Hannibal in the field, opposing to him first an equal, then a double force. They resolved now to confine themselves entirely to the defensive, and indeed from this time to the end of the war they never ventured on a decisive battle with Hannibal. The Carthaginians had military possession of a large portion of southern Italy. Hannibal had no difficulty in maintaining this possession, and needed for this purpose no great reinforcements from home, especially since he reckoned on the services of the Italians. But he was not able to aim a decisive blow at Rome. To do this he needed assistance on a large scale—nothing less, in fact, than another Carthaginian army, which, considering the naval superiority of the Romans, could reach Italy only by land. A considerable portion of this army moreover must necessarily consist of Spaniards, for Africa alone could not supply sufficient materials. Spain, therefore, was, under present circumstances, of the greatest importance to Carthage. In that country Hasdrubal, the brother of Hannibal, carried on the war against the two Scipios. If in the year 216 he could beat the Romans, penetrate over the Pyrenees and the Rhone, and then in the following spring cross the Alps, the two brothers could march upon Rome from north and south, and end the war by the conquest of the capital.

To carry out this plan, which Mago as Hannibal’s confidential envoy laid before the Carthaginian government, it was resolved to send 4,000 Numidian horse and forty elephants to Italy, and to raise in Spain 20,000 foot and 4,000 horse. We hear much of the opposition which these measures encountered in the Carthaginian senate. Hanno, the leader of the party hostile to the house of Barcas, it is said, resisted Hannibal’s propositions and the prosecution of the war. But as the Barcide party had an overwhelming majority, the opposition was powerless and unable to thwart Hannibal’s plans. We can therefore easily believe that the Carthaginian senate voted all but unanimously the supplies of men and materials of war which Hannibal required.

As matters stood now, everything depended on the issue of the war in Spain. While the rapid course of events in Italy was followed by a comparative rest, while the war was there resolving itself into a number of smaller conflicts, and turned chiefly on the taking and maintaining of fortified places, the Romans succeeded in dealing a decisive blow in Spain, which delayed the Carthaginian plan of reinforcing Hannibal from that quarter to a time when the Romans had completely recovered from the effects of their first three defeats on the Trebia, the Thrasymenus, and the Aufidus.

But this event, which was in reality the turning-point in the carrier of Carthaginian triumphs, did not take place till later in the course of the year 216 B.C. Meanwhile the prospects of Rome in Italy had become still more clouded. The battle of Cannae began to produce its effects. One after another of the allies in southern Italy joined the enemy, and Rome in her trouble and distress was obliged to leave to their fate those who, remaining faithful, only asked for protection and help to enable them to hold their ground.

The richest and most powerful city in Italy next to Rome was Capua. She was able to send into the field 30,000 foot and an excellent cavalry of 4,000 men, unsurpassed by any Italian state. No city not included in the on Roman tribes appeared so intimately connected with Rome as Capua. The Romans and the Capuans had become one people more completely than the Romans and the Latins. The Capuan knights possessed the full Roman franchise, and the rest of the people of Capua enjoyed the civil rights of Romans exclusive only of the political rights.

The Capuans fought in the Roman legions side by side with the inhabitants of the thirty-five tribes. A great number of Romans had settled in Capua, and the prominent families of this town were connected by marriage with the highest nobility of Rome. These Capuan nobles had a double motive for remaining faithful to Rome. Through the decision of the Roman senate they had in the great Latin war (338 B.C.) obtained political power in Capua and the enjoyment of an annual revenue which the people of Capua were made to pay to them. A Roman prefect resided in Capua to decide civil disputes in which Roman citizens were concerned; but in every other respect the Capuans were free from interference with their local self-government. They had their own senate and their national chief magistrate, called Meddix. Under the dominion of Rome the town had probably lost little of her former importance and prosperity, and she was considered now, as she had been a century before, a worthy rival of Rome.

But it was precisely this greatness and prosperity which fostered in the people of Capua the feeling of jealousy and impatience of Roman superiority. A position which smaller towns might accept without feeling humbled could not fail to offend the pride of a people which looked upon itself as not inferior even to the people of Rome. The plebeians of Capua, in other words the vast majority of the population, had been grievously wronged and exasperated by the measure of the Roman senate which had deprived Capua of her domain or public land, and had in consequence imposed a tax for the support of the Capuan nobility. The natural opposition between the two classes of citizens, which we find in every Italian community, had through this measure been embittered by a peculiar feeling of injustice on the popular side, and by the slavish attachment of the nobles to their foreign friends and supporters. It was not Hannibal’s appearance in Italy that first produced this division in Capua. But the discontent which had been growing for years, had hitherto been kept down by the irresistible power of Rome. Now, as it seemed, the hour of deliverance was at hand. Soon after the battle of the lake Thrasymenus in the preceding year, when Hannibal for the first time appeared in Campania, he had tried to detach Capua from the Roman alliance. Some Capuan prisoners of war whom he had set free, had promised to bring about an insurrection in their native city; but the plan had failed. Another decisive victory over the Romans was wanted to inspire the national and popular party in Capua with sufficient courage for so bold a step as the throwing off of their allegiance. Such a victory had been gained at Cannae; and the revolution in Capua was one of its first and most valuable fruits.

The Capuan nobility was neither strong enough to suppress the popular movement in favour of Hannibal, nor honest and firm enough to retire from the government and to leave the town after the Carthaginian party had gained the ascendency. Only a few men remained faithful to Rome, foremost among whom was Decius Magius. The majority of the senate of Capua allowed themselves to be intimidated by Pacuvius Calavius, one of their number, and hoped by joining the Carthaginians to save their prerogatives and their position. Soon after the battle of Cannae they despatched an embassy to Hannibal and concluded a treaty of friendship and alliance with Carthage, which guaranteed their entire independence, and especially an immunity from the obligation of military service and other burthens. As the prize of their joint victory over Rome they hoped that the dominion over Italy would fall to their share. In order to cut off every chance of a reconciliation with Rome, and to convince their new ally of their unconditional attachment, the Capuan populace seized the Roman citizens who happened to be residing among them, shut them up in one of the public baths, and killed them with hot vapour. Three hundred Roman prisoners were delivered into the keeping of the Capuans by Hannibal as a security for the safety of an equal number of Capuan horsemen who were serving with the Roman army in Sicily. The example of Capua was followed voluntarily or on compulsion by Atella and Calatia, two neighbouring Italia cities. All the other numerous towns of Campania, especially the Creek community of Neapolis and the old city of Cumae (once, like Neapolis, a Greek settlement, but now entirely Italian), remained faithful to Rome. This was due to the influence of the nobility, while the popular party evinced everywhere a strong desire to join the Carthaginian cause.

Among the great events which convulsed Italy at this time our attention is arrested by the fate of a comparatively humble individual, because it permits us to catch a glimpse to of the civil struggles and vicissitudes which the great war called forth in every Italian city, and because it throws an interesting and a favourable light on the character of Hannibal. Decius Magius was the leader of the minority in the Capuan senate, which, remaining faithful to Rome, rejected all the offers of Hannibal, and even after the occupation of their town by a Punic garrison entertained the hope of recalling their countrymen to their allegiance, of overpowering and murdering the foreign troops, and restoring Capua to the Romans. He made no secret of his sentiments and hid plans. When Hannibal sent for him into his camp, he refused to go, because, as a free citizen of Capua, he was not bound to obey the behests of a stranger. Hannibal might have employed force; but his object was to gain over as a friend, not to punish, so influential a man as Decius. When he made his public entry into Capua, the whole population poured out to meet him, eager to see face to face the man who had taken the Roman yoke from their shoulders. But Decius Magius kept aloof from the gaping crowd. He walked up and down on the market-place with his son and a few clients as if he had no concern in the general excitement. On the following day, when he was brought before Hannibal, he exhibited the same spirit of defiance, and tried even to rouse the people against the invaders. What would have been the fate of such a man, if he had thus defied a Roman general? Hannibal was satisfied with removing him from the place where his presence was likely to cause difficulties. He ordered him to be sent to Carthage to be kept there as a prisoner of war. But Decius Magius was spared the humiliation of living at the mercy of his hated enemies. The ship that was to take him to Carthage was driven by adverse winds to Cyrene. Hence he was brought to Egypt; and King Ptolemy Philopator, who was on friendly terms with Rome, allowed him to return to Italy. But where was he to go? His native town was in the hands of a hostile faction and of the national enemies, while Rome was carrying on a war of extermination against her. He remained an exile in a foreign land, and thus was spared the misery of witnessing the barbarous punishment which a few years later the ruthless hand of Rome inflicted on Capua. No man would have been more justified in deprecating this punishment, and more likely to mitigate it, if Roman justice could ever be tempered with mercy, than the man who had dared in the cause of Rome to defy the victorious Hannibal.

The two hostile parties which opposed each other in the Campanian towns had caused even members of the same families to be divided against each other. Pacuvius Calavius, the chief instigator of the revolt of Capua, had married a daughter of a noble Roman, Appius Claudius, and his son was a zealous adherent of the Roman cause. The father tried in vain to convince the youth that the star of Rome had set, and that his native town of Capua could regain her ancient position and splendour only by a league with Carthage. Not even the countenance and the kind words of Hannibal himself, who at the father’s request pardoned the errors of the son, could conciliate the sturdy young man. Invited with his father to dine in company with Hannibal, he remained sullen through the merriment of the banquet, and refused even to pledge Hannibal in a cup of wine, under the pretext of not feeling well. Towards evening, when Pacuvius left the dining room for a time, his son followed him, and drawing him aside into a garden at the back of the house, declared his intention of presently killing Hannibal and thus obtaining for his countrymen pardon for their great offence. In the utmost dismay, Pacuvius besought his son to give up this heinous scheme, and vowed to shield with his own body the man to whom he had sworn to be faithful, who had intrusted himself to the hospitality of Capua, and whose guests they were at this moment. In the struggle of conflicting duties filial piety prevailed. The youth cast away the dagger with which he had armed himself, and returned to the banquet to avert suspicion.

In Nola as in Capua the people were divided between a Roman and a Carthaginian party. The plebs was in favour of joining Hannibal, and it was with difficulty that the nobles delayed the decision, and thus gained time to inform the praetor Marcellus, who was then stationed at Casilinum, of the danger of a revolt. Marcellus immediately hastened to Nola, occupied the town with a strong garrison, and repulsed the Carthaginians, who, counting on the friendly disposition of the people of Nola, had come to take possession of the town. This lucky hit of Marcellus was magnified by the Roman annalists into a complete victory over Hannibal. Livy found in some of the writers whom he consulted the statement that 2,800 Carthaginians were slain; but he is sensible and honest enough to suspect that this is a great exaggeration. The extent of the success of Marcellus was no doubt this, that Hannibal’s attempt to occupy Nola with the assistance of the Carthaginian party failed; and considering the importance of the place, this was indeed a great point gained. But it was an empty boast if Roman writers asserted in consequence that Marcellus had taught the Romans to conquer Hannibal. Livy hits the truth by saying that not to be conquered by Hannibal was more difficult at that time than it was afterwards to conquer him. It was the merit of Marcellus that he saved Nola from being taken. This was effected not only by anticipating the arrival of the Carthaginians, and by securing the town with a garrison, but by severely punishing the leaders of the popular party in Nola, who were guilty or suspected of an understanding with Hannibal. When seventy of them had been put to death, the fidelity of Nola seemed sufficiently secured.

The pretended victory of Marcellus at Nola appears the more doubtful as Hannibal about the same time was able to take in the immediate neighbourhood the towns of Nucoria and Acerrae, and made several attempts to gain possession of Neapolis. Neapolis would have been a most valuable acquisition, as a secure landing-place and a station for the Carthaginian fleet. But the Neapolitans were on their guard. All attempts to take the town by surprise failed, and Hannibal had not the means of laying siege to it in a regular manner. His attempts to take Cumae were equally futile, and even the petty town of Casilinum, in the immediate vicinity of Capua, on the river Vulturnus, offered a stout resistance. But Casilinum was too important on account of its position to be left in the hands of the Romans. Hannibal therefore resolved to lay regular siege to it.

The siege of Casilinum claims our special attention, as it shows the spirit and the quality of the troops of whom the Romans disposed in their struggle with Carthage. When the Roman legions in the spring of the year 216 B.C. assembled in Apulia, the allied town of Praeneste was somewhat in arrear in preparing its contingent. This contingent, consisting of five hundred and seventy men, was therefore still on its march, and had just reached Campania, when the news of the disaster of Cannae arrived. Instead of marching further south, the troops took up their position in the little town of Casilinum, and were there joined by some Latins and Romans, as well as by a cohort of four hundred and sixty men from the Etruscan town of Perugia, which, like the Praenestine cohort, had been delayed in taking the field. Shortly after this Capua revolted, and everywhere in Campania the popular party showed a disposition to follow the example of Capua. To prevent the people of Casilinum from betraying their Roman garrison to the Carthaginians, the soldiers anticipated treason by a treacherous and barbarous act. They fell upon the inhabitants, put to death all that were suspected, destroyed that portion of the town which lay on the left bank of the river, and put the other half in a state of defence. The Carthaginians summoned the town in vain, and then tried to take it by storm; but several assaults were repulsed by the garrison with the greatest courage, and with perfect success. Hannibal with his victorious army was unable to take by force this insignificant place, with its garrison of scarcely one thousand men—so utterly was he destitute of the means and apparatus necessary for a regular siege; and perhaps he shrunk from sacrificing his valuable troops in this kind of warfare. Yet he did not give up Casilinum. He kept up a blockade, and in the course of the winter hunger soon began its ravages among the defenders. A Roman force under Gracchus, the master of the horse of the dictator Junius Pera, was stationed at a short distance, but made no attempt to throw supplies into the town, or to raise the siege. Gradually all the horrors of a protracted siege broke out in the town; the leather of the shields was cooked for food, mice and roots were devoured, many of the garrison threw themselves from the walls or exposed themselves to the missiles of the enemies to end the pangs of hunger by a voluntary death. The Roman troops under Gracchus tried in vain to relieve the distress of the besieged by floating down the river during the night casks partly filled with grain. The Carthaginians soon discovered the trick, and fished the casks out of the river before they reached the town. When all hope of relief was thus gone, and half of the defenders of Casilinum had perished by hunger, the heroic Praenestines and Perugians at last consented to surrender the town on condition of being allowed to ransom themselves for a stipulated sum. They were justly proud of their performance. Marcus Anicius, the commander of the Praenestine cohort, who, as Livy remarks, had formerly been a public clerk, caused a statue of himself to be erected on the market-place of Praeneste, with an inscription to commemorate the defence of Casilinum. The Roman senate granted the survivors double pay and exemption from military service for five years. It is added that the Roman franchise was also offered to them, but declined. Probably the men of Perugia were honoured like the Praenestines, but we have no information on the subject.

The obstinate defence of Casilinum is instructive, as showing the spirit by which the allies of Rome were animated. If after the battle of Cannae the citizens of two towns which did not even possess the Roman franchise fought for Rome with such firmness and heroism, the republic could look with perfect composure and confidence upon all the vicissitudes of the war; nor could Hannibal with a handful of foreign mercenaries have much hope of subduing a country defended by several hundred thousand men as brave and obstinate as the garrison of Casilinum.

The blockade of Casilinum had lasted the whole winter, and the surrender of the town did not take place before the following spring. Meanwhile Hannibal had sent a portion of his army to take up their winter-quarters in Capua. The results of the battle of Cannae were in truth considerable, but we can hardly think that they answered his expectations. The acquisition of Capua was the only advantage worth mentioning; and the value of this acquisition was considerably reduced by the continued resistance which he had to encounter in all the other important towns of Campania, especially in those on the sea coast. Thus Capua was in constant danger, and instead of vigorously supporting the movements of Hannibal it compelled him to take measures for its protection. It could not be left without a Carthaginian garrison, for the Roman party in the town would, as the example of Nola showed, have seized the first opportunity for betraying it into the hands of the Romans. The conditions on which Capua had joined the Carthaginian alliance, viz. exemption from military service and war taxes, show clearly that Hannibal could not dispose freely of the resources of his Italian allies. He could rely only on their voluntary aid; and it was his policy to show that their alliance with Carthage was more profitable for them than their subjection to Rome. It was evident, therefore, that he could not raise a very considerable army in Italy; and that if he could have found the men, he would have had the greatest difficulty in providing for their food and pay, and for the materials of war.

Still, whatever difficulties Hannibal might encounter by continuing the war in Italy, he might, after the stupendous success that had hitherto accompanied him, expect to overcome, provided he obtained from home the reinforcements on which he had all along calculated. His first expectations were directed to Spain. In this country the Romans had with a just appreciation of its importance made great efforts during the first two years of the war to occupy the land between the Ebro and the Pyrenees, and they had thus blocked up the nearest road by which a Punic army could march from Spain to Italy. The two Scipios had even advanced beyond the Ebro to attack the Carthaginian dominions in the southern part of the peninsula, and, following the example of Hannibal in Italy, they had adopted the policy of endeavouring to gain over to their side the subjects and allies of Carthage. In the third year of the war Hasdrubal had to turn his arms against the Tartessii, a powerful tribe in the valley of the Baetis, which had revolted, and was reduced only after an obstinate resistance. Then, after he had received reinforcements for the defence of the Carthaginian possessions in Spain, he advanced towards the Ebro to carry out the plan which was so essential for Hannibal’s success in Italy. In the neighbourhood of this river, near the town of Ibera, the two Scipios awaited his arrival. A great battle was fought; the Carthaginians were completely beaten; their army was partly destroyed, partly dispersed. This great victory of the Romans ranks in importance with that on the Metaurus and that of Zama. It foiled the plan of the Carthaginians of sending a second army into Italy from Spain, and left Hannibal without the necessary reinforcements at a time when he was in the full career of victory, and seemed to need only the cooperation of another army to compel Rome to yield and to sue for peace. The Romans now had leisure to recover from their great material and moral overthrow, and after surviving such a crisis as this they became invincible.

While the Roman arms in Spain not only opposed a State of barrier to the advance of the Carthaginians, but laid the foundation for a permanent acquisition of new territory, the two provinces of Sicily and Sardinia, lately wrested from Carthage, showed alarming symptoms of dissatisfaction. The dominion of Rome in these two islands had not been felt to be a blessing. Under its weight the government of Carthage was looked upon by a considerable portion of the natives as a period of lost happiness, the evils of the present being naturally felt more keenly than those of the past. The battle of Cannae produced its effect even in these distant parts of the Roman empire, and revived the hopes of those who still felt attachment to their former rulers, or thought to avail themselves of their aid to cast off their present bondage. Carthaginian fleets cruised off the coasts of Sicily and kept the island in a continued state of excitement. The Roman officers who commanded in Sicily sent home reports calculated to cause disquiet and alarm. The propraetor T. Otalicius complained that his troops were left without sufficient supplies and pay. From Sardinia the propraetor A. Cornelias Mammula sent equally urgent demands. The home government had no resources at its disposal, and the senate replied by bidding the two propraetors do the best they could for their fleets and troops. In Sardinia consequently the Roman commander raised a forced loan—a measure ill calculated to improve the loyalty of the subjects. In Sicily it was again the faithful Hiero who volunteered his aid, and this was the last time that he exerted himself in the cause of his allies. Although his own kingdom of Syracuse was at this very time exposed to the devastations of the Carthaginian fleet, he nevertheless provided the Roman troops in Sicily with pay and provisions for six months. The old man would have been happy if before his death he could have seen the war ended, or at least warded off from the coasts of Sicily. He foresaw the danger to which its continuance exposed his country and his house, and he conjured the Romans to attack the Carthaginians in Africa as soon as possible. But the year after the battle of Cannae was not the time for such an enterprise, and before it came to be carried out a great calamity had overwhelmed Sicily, had overthrown the dynasty and exterminated the whole family of Hiero, and had reduced Syracuse to a state of desolation from which it never rose again.

Although since the battle of the Trebia the seat of war had been shifted from Cisalpine Gaul to central and southern Italy, and although Rome itself was now more directly exposed to the victorious arms of Hannibal, yet the Romans had neither given up Cremona and Placentia, their fortresses on the Po, nor relaxed their efforts for continuing the war with the Gauls in their own country. They hoped thereby to draw off the Gallic auxiliaries from Hannibal’s army, and moreover to prevent any Punic army which might succeed in crossing the Pyrenees and Alps from advancing further into Italy. For this reason in the spring of 215 two legions and a strong contingent of auxiliaries, amounting altogether to 25,000 men, were sent northward, under the command of the praetor L. Postumius Albinus, at the time when Terentius Varro and Aemilius Paulus set out on their ill-fated expedition to Apulia. The disaster of Cannae naturally rendered the task of Postumius very difficult by increasing the courage of the tribes hostile to Rome, and by damping that of their friends. Nevertheless the praetor kept his ground in the country about the Po during the whole of the year 215, and so far gained the confidence of his fellow-citizens that he was elected for the consulship of the ensuing year. But before he could enter on his new office he was over­taken by an overwhelming catastrophe, second only to the great disaster of Cannae. He fell into an ambush, and was cut to pieces with his whole army. It is related that the Gauls cut off his head, set the skull in gold, and used it on solemn occasions as a goblet, according to a barbarous custom which continued long among the later Gauls and Germans.

Rome was in a state of frantic excitement. The worst calamities of the disastrous year that had just passed away seemed about to be repeated at the very time when the brave garrison of Casilinum had been forced to capitulate, and when by this conquest Hannibal had opened for himself the road to Latium. A short time before the faithful towns of Petelia and Consentia in Bruttium had been taken by storm. The others were in the greatest danger of suffering the same fate. Locri soon after joined the Carthaginians under favourable conditions : and thus a maritime town of great importance was gained by the enemy. In Croton the nobility tried in vain to keep the town for the Romans, and to shut out the Bruttian allies of Hannibal. The people admitted them within the walls, and the aristocratic party had no choice but to yield to the storm and to purchase for themselves permission to leave the town by giving up possession of the citadel. Thus the whole of Bruttium was lost to the Romans, with the single exception of Rhegium. The legions were stationed in Campania, and did not venture beyond their fortified camps. Everywhere the sky was overhung with black clouds. In Spain alone the victory of the Scipios at Ibera opened a brighter prospect. By it the danger of another invasion of Italy by Hannibal’s brother was for the present averted. Had the battle near the Ebro ended like the battles hitherto fought on Italian soil, it would seem that even the hearts of the bravest Romans must have despaired of the republic.

Hannibal passed the winter of 216-215 B.C. in Capua. These winter-quarters became among the Roman writers in Capua a favourite topic of declamation. Capua, they said, became Hannibal’s Cannae. In the luxurious life of this opulent city, to which Hannibal’s victorious soldiers gave themselves up for the first time after long hardships and privations, their military qualities perished, and from this time victory deserted their standards. This statement, if not altogether false, is at any rate a vast exaggeration. As we have seen, only a portion of Hannibal’s army passed the winter in Capua, whilst the rest was in Bruttium, Lucania, and before Casilinum. But apart from this, it is manifest that the people of Capua could not at that time have been sunk in luxury and sensual pleasures. If their wealth had been little affected by the calamities of the war, surely the necessity of feeding some thousand soldiers would soon have sobered them down and taught them the need of economy. Hannibal knew how to husband his resources, and he would not have allowed his men to drain his most valuable allies. We can scarcely suppose that voluntary extravagance and excessive hospitality marked the conduct of a people which had, at the very outset, stipulated for immunity from contributions. Lastly, it is not true that the Punic army had in Capua the first opportunity of recovering from the hardships of the war, and of enjoying ease and comfort. The soldiers had had pleasant quarters in Apulia after the battle on the lake Thrasymenus, and had already passed one winter comfortable. But whatever may have been the pleasures and indulgences of Hannibal’s troops in Capua, their military qualities cannot have suffered by them, as the subsequent history of the war sufficiently demonstrates.

That Hannibal’s offensive tactics were relaxed after the battle of Cannae is particularly evident from the events of 215 B.C. The year passed without any serious encounters between the two belligerents. The Romans had resolved to avoid a battle, and applied their whole strength to prevent the spread of revolt among their allies, and to punish or re-conquer the towns that had revolted. The war was confined almost entirely to Campania. In this country Hannibal did not succeed, after the surrender of Casilinum, in making any further conquests. An attempt to surprise Cumae failed, and on this occasion the Capuan suffered a serious reverse. Neapolis remained steadfast and faithful to Rome; Nola was guarded by a Roman garrison, and the Roman partisans among the citizens; and a renewed attempt of Hannibal to take this town is said to have been thwarted, like the first attack, the year before, by a sally of the Romans under Marcellus, and to have resulted in a defeat of the Carthaginian army. On the other hand the Romans took several towns in Campania and Samnium, punished their revolted subjects with merciless severity, and so devastated the country of the Hirpinians and Caudinians that they piteously implored the help of Hannibal. But Hannibal had not sufficient forces to protect the Italians who had joined his cause and who now felt the fatal consequences of their step. Hanno, one of Hannibal’s subordinate officers, being beaten at Grumentum in Lucania by Tiberius Sempronius Longus, an officer of the praetor M. Valerius Laevinus, who commanded in Apulia, was obliged to retreat into Bruttium. A reinforcement of 12,000 foot, 1,500 horse, 20 elephants, and 1,000 talents of silver, which Mago was to have brought to his brother in Italy, had been directed to Spain after the victory of the Scipios at Ibera; and Hannibal had accordingly, in the year 215 B.C., not only calculated in vain on being joined by his brother Hasdrubal and the Spanish army, but he was also deprived of the reinforcements which ought to have been sent to him straight from Africa. As at the same time the revolt of the Roman allies did not spread further, and as the Romans gradually recovered from the effects of the defeat at Cannae, the fact that Hannibal was not able to accomplish much is easily explained.

As in Italy, so in the other theatres of war, the Carthaginian arms were not very successful during this year, 215 B.C. In Spain, the victory of the Scipios at Ibera was followed by a decided preponderance of Roman influence. The native tribes became more and more disinclined to submit to Carthaginian dominion, thinking that the Romans would help them to regain their independence. It seems that the battle of Ibera was lost chiefly by the defection of the Spanish troops. Hasdrubal had thereupon tried to reduce some of the revolted tribes, but was prevented by the Scipios, and driven back with great loss. According to the reports which the Scipios sent home, they had gained victories which almost counter­balanced the disaster of Cannae. With only 16,000 men they had totally routed at Illiturgi a Carthaginian army of 60,000 men, had killed more of the enemy than they themselves numbered combatants, had taken 3,000 prisoners, nearly 1,000 horses, and seven elephants, had captured fifty-nine standards, and stormed three hostile camps. Soon after, when the Carthaginians were besieging Intibili, they were again defeated and suffered almost as heavily. Most of the Spanish tribes now joined Rome. These victories threw into the shade all the military events which took place in Italy this year.

Equal success attended the Roman arms in Sardinia. In the preceding year the propraetor Aulus Cornelius Mammula had been left in that island without supplies for his troops, and had exacted the necessary sums and contributions by a species of forced loans from the natives. The discontent engendered by this measure, in connexion with the news of the battle of Cannae had the effect of inflaming the national spirit of the Sardinians, who, from the time of their subjection to Rome, had hardly allowed a year to pass without an attempt to shake off the galling yoke. The Carthaginians had contributed to fan this flame, and now dispatched a force to Sardinia to support the insurgents. Unfortunately the fleet which had the troops on board was overtaken by a storm and compelled to take refuge in the Balearic Islands, where the ships had to be laid up for repair. Meanwhile, the son of the Sardinian chief Hampsicoras, impatient of delay, had attacked the Romans in the absence of his father, and had been defeated with great loss. When the Carthaginians appeared in the island, the force, of the insurrection was already spent. The praetor Titus Manlius Torquatus had arrived from Rome with a new legion, which raised the Roman army in the island to 22,000 foot and 1,200 horse. He defeated the united forces of the Carthaginians and revolted Sardinians in a decisive battle, whereupon Hampsicoras put an end to his life, and the insurrection in the island was eventually suppressed.

While thus the sky was clearing in the west, a new storm seemed to be gathering in the east. Since the Romans had obtained a footing in Illyria, they had ceased to be uninterested spectators of the disputes which agitated the eastern peninsula, and they had assumed the character of patrons of Greek liberty and independence. By this policy, and by their conquests in Illyria, they had become the natural opponents of Macedonia, whose kings had steadily aimed at the sovereignty over the whole of Greece. The jealousy between Macedonia and Rome favoured the ambitious plans of Demetrius of Pharos, the Illyrian adventurer whom the Romans had at first favoured and then expelled, 219 B.C. Demetrius took refuge at the court of King Philip of Macedonia, and did all in his power to urge him to a war with Rome. Hannibal also had hoped for the cooperation of the Macedonian king. But the so-called Social War which Philip and the Achaian league carried on since 220 B.C. against the piratical Aetolians occupied him so much that he had no leisure for another enterprise. Then the news reached him of the invasion of Italy by Hannibal. The gigantic struggle between the two most powerful nations of their time attracted specially the attention of the Greeks. In the year 217 B.C. Philip was in the Peloponnesus. It happened to be the time of the Nemean games, with which, as with the other great festivals of the Greek nation, not even war was allowed to interfere. The king, surrounded by his courtiers and favourites, was looking on at the games, when a messenger arrived straight from Macedonia and brought the first news of Hannibal’s great victory at the lake Thrasymenus. Demetrius of Pharos, the king's con­fidential friend, was by his side. Philip immediately imparted the news to him and asked his advice. Demetrius eagerly seized the opportunity to urge the king to a war with Rome, in which he hoped to regain his lost possessions in Illyria. At his suggestion Philip resolved to end the war in Greece as soon as possible, and to prepare for a war with Rome. He hastened to conclude peace at Naupactos with the Aetolians, and forthwith began hostilities by land and sea against the allies and dependents of Rome in Illyria. But he displayed neither promptness, energy, nor courage. He took a few insignificant places from the Illyrian prince Skerdilaidas, an ally of the Romans, but when he had reached the Ionian Sea with his fleet of one hundred small undecked galleys of Illyrian construction (lembi), in the hope of being able to take Apollonia by surprise, he was so frightened by a false report of the approach of a Roman fleet, that he made a precipitate and ignominious retreat. Perhaps he was already disheartened, and beginning to repent the step which he had taken, when in 210 B.C. the news of the battle of Cannae and of the revolt of Capua and other Roman allies inspired him with new hope, and induced him to conclude with Hannibal a formal alliance, by which he promised his active co-operation in the war in Italy, on condition that Hannibal, after the overthrow of the Roman power, should assist him to establish the Macedonian supremacy in the eastern peninsula and islands. Thus the calculations and expectations with which Hannibal had begun the war seemed on the point of being realised, and the fruits of his great victories to be gradually maturing.

The Romans had watched the movements of Philip with increasing anxiety. As long as he was implicated in the Greek Social War, he was unable to do any mischief. But when he brought this war to a hasty conclusion to have his hands free against Illyria and Rome, the senate made an attempt to frighten him by demanding the extradition of Demetrius of Pharos. When Philip refused this demand and followed up his refusal by an attack upon Illyricum, Rome was de facto at war with Macedonia; but the condition of the republic was such that the senate was compelled to ignore the hostility of the Macedonian king as long as he made no direct attack upon Italy. But when, in the year 215 B.C., an embassy which Philip had sent to Hannibal fell into their hands, they learnt with terror that, in addition to the war which they had to carry on in Italy, Spain, and Sardinia, they would have to undertake another in the east of the Adriatic. They did not, however, shrink from the new danger, and, in fact, they had no choice. They strengthened their fleet at Tarentum and the army which the praetor M. Valerius Laevinus commanded in Apulia, and made all the necessary preparations for anticipating an attack of Philip in Italy by an invasion of his own dominions. But it seems that Philip never earnestly contemplated the idea of carrying the war into Italy. He was bent only on profiting by the embarrassment of the Romans to pursue his plans of aggrandizement in Greece. It was, therefore, easy for the Romans to keep him occupied at home by promising their support to all who were threatened by Philip’s ambitious projects; and the military resources of Macedonia, which, if they had been employed in Italy in conjunction with and under the direction of Hannibal, might have turned the scale against Rome, were wasted in Greece in a succession of unprofitable petty encounters.

Third Period of the Hannibalian War.

THE WAR IN SICILY, 215-212 B.C

Sicily, the principal theatre of the first war between Rome and Carthage, had hitherto been almost exempt from the ravages of the second. While Italy, Spain, and Sardinia were visited and suffering by it, Sicily had only been threatened now and then by the Carthaginian fleets, but had never been seriously attacked. But now, in the fourth year of the war, an event took place destined to bring over the island all the worst calamities of an internecine struggle, and to give the final blow to the declining prosperity of the Greek cities. In the year 215 B.C. King Hiero of Syracuse died, at the advanced age of more than ninety years, and after a prosperous reign of fifty-four. He was among the last of that class of men produced by the Greek world with wonderful exuberance, who were called ‘tyrants’ in more ancient times, and who afterwards, when that name lost its original and inoffensive signification, preferred to call themselves ‘kings’. The best, and also the worst, of these rulers had sprung up in Syracuse, a city which had tried in rapid succession all forms of government, and had never long been able to abide by any. Syracuse had seen the arbitrary, but in their way honourable, tyrants Gelon and the elder Hiero; then the blood-stained first Dionysius, and his son, the consummate ideal of a man of terror; afterwards Agathokles, great and brave as a soldier, but detestable as a man; and, lastly, the wise and moderate Hiero II, under whose mild sceptre she once more revived, after a period of anarchy and depression, and enjoyed a long peace, security, and well-being in the midst of the most devastating wars. Polybius bestows on Hiero full and well-deserved praise, and his honourable testimony deserves to be recorded. “Hiero”, he says, “obtained the government of Syracuse by his own personal merit; fortune had given him neither wealth, nor glory, nor anything else. And what is of all things the most wonderful, he made himself the king of Syracuse without killing, driving into exile, or harming a single citizen, and he exercised his power in the same manner in which he bad acquired it. For fifty-four years he preserved peace in his native city, and the government for himself, without danger of conspiracy, escaping that jealousy which generally fastens itself on greatness. Often he proposed to lay down his power, but was prevented by the universal wish of his fellow-citizens. He became the benefactor of the Greeks, and strove to win their approval. Thus he gained great glory for himself, and won from all people great good-will for the men of Syracuse. Though he lived surrounded by magnificence and luxury, he reached the great age of more than ninety years, retaining possession of all his senses with unimpaired health of body, which seems to me to be a most convincing proof of a rational life”.

Such a ruler was the best constitution for Syracuse, where republican freedom never failed to produce civil war, anarchy, and all imaginable horrors. Hiero renewed the laws which, about a century and a half before his time, had been enacted in Syracuse by Diokles, and, what was of far more importance, he took care that they should be inforced. He seems to have bestowed his especial care on the improvement of agriculture, industrial pursuits, and commerce, and on healing the wounds which the long wars had inflicted on his country. Thus it is explained how he was always able to supply money, corn, and other necessaries of war when his allies needed his aid. But he was at the same time a patron of art, and animated by the desire of gaining the approbation of the whole Hellenic race—a desire which had been strong in his predecessors Gelon and Hiero, and even in the blood­stained tyrant Dionysius. He embellished the city of Syracuse with splendid and useful buildings, contested in the great national games of the Greeks the prizes which were the highest peaceful honours that a Greek could aspire to; he erected statues at Olympia, and patronized poets like Theokritos, and practical philosophers like Archimedes. Of his Greek national spirit, and at the same time of his humane sentiments and of his wealth, he gave a striking proof when, in 227 B.C., the city of Rhodes was visited by a terrible earthquake, which destroyed the walls, dockyards, a great part of the town, and also the far-famed colossus. It was not the universal custom in antiquity, as it is at present in the civilized world, to relieve extraordinary calamities like this by charitable contributions from all parts. But Hiero’s proper feelings supplied the force of custom. He readily and liberally succoured the distressed Rhodians, giving them more than one hundred talents of silver and fifty catapults, and exempting their ships from tolls and dues in the port of Syracuse. For this liberality, which was entirely his own doing, he gracefully and modestly disclaimed any personal merit, by putting up in Rhodes a group of statues representing the city of Syracuse in the act of crowning her sister city.

How Hiero assisted Rome with never-failing zeal and loyalty we have noticed on several occasions. It was by this steadfast and honest policy that he succeeded in keeping unscathed the independence of Syracuse during the contest of his two powerful neighbours. When peace was concluded after the first Punic war, this independence was formally recognized, and Hiero had now good reason to persevere in his attachment to Rome, which had proved her superiority over Carthage, and was now mistress of the greater part of Sicily, exercising that influence over him which a patron has over his client. Nevertheless he did not hesitate to render, in the Mercenary War, that essential service to Carthage which seemed to him called for. He wished to preserve a balance of power, and the Romans had no just cause or pretext to interfere with him, though, from their ungenerous policy with regard to Carthage at this time, they must have been annoyed at any support being given to their rivals. In the year 237 B.C. Hiero paid a visit to Rome, was present at the public games, and distributed 200,000 modii of corn among the people. Perhaps the journey was not undertaken merely for pleasure. It was not customary at that time for princes to travel for their amusement. Hiero went to Rome soon after the disgraceful stroke of policy by which the Romans had acquired possession of Sardinia; and it is not at all unlikely that, even at that early period, four years after the termination of the first Punic War, a desire was manifested in Rome to annex the Syracusan dominions to the Roman province of Sicily, and thus to prevent the possibility of Carthage finding in some future war friends or allies in Syracuse. If, indeed, such dangers were then threatening his independence, Hiero succeeded in removing them, and, by renewed proofs of sincere attachment, was able to maintain himself in the favour of his too powerful friends. The Gallic war (225 B.C.) gave him again an opportunity for it; and soon after the breaking out of the second Punic war, he showed his unaltered zeal and attachment by sending auxiliaries and supplies, in 217 and 210 B.C. It seemed that, of all parts of the Roman dominions, Sicily was most exposed to the attacks of the Carthaginians, and the most serious danger arose from the existence of a strong Carthaginian party within the island. Sicily had been so long under Carthaginian dominion or influence that here, as well as in Sardinia, such a party could not fail to exist. It was of course made up chiefly of the large number of men who had suffered by the change of masters, and were hoping for better things from a return of the Carthaginians. The whole of Sicily, as the succeeding events prove, was in a state of fermentation, and it required but a slight impulse to rouse a great part of the population to take up arms against Rome. This impulse was given in 215 B.C. by the death of Hiero, which produced an effect so much the more fatal as his son Gelon, who seems to have shared his sentiments and policy, had died shortly before him, leaving only a son, called Hieronymus, a boy of fifteen years.

Of the condition of Sicily since its acquisition by Rome in 241 B.C., we can form only an imperfect notion. We may suppose that, upon the whole, the material prosperity of the island was gradually increasing, after the ending of the destructive internal wars; but we should not wonder if the compulsory peace which the different communities of Sicily were now enjoying had been felt by many to be a mark of their subjection. The towns which during the war with Carthage had joined the Roman side—such as Segesta, Panormus, Centuripa, Alaesa, Halicyae—occupied a privileged position and were free from all taxes and services. The Mamertines of Messana were regarded as allies of Rome, and supplied their contingent of ships like the Greek towns in Italy. All the other towns were tributary, and paid the tenth part of the produce of their land. This liability implied no oppression, for most of the Sicilians had in former times paid the same tax to the Carthaginians, or to the government of Syracuse. But the Romans placed on the free intercourse between the different communities restrictions which must have been felt as highly injurious and annoying. No Sicilian was allowed to acquire landed property beyond the limits of his native community, and the right of intermarriage and inheritance was probably confined within the same narrow bounds, Roman citizens and the people of the few favoured towns being alone exempt from this restriction. Thus every town in Sicily was, to a great extent, isolated, and the limited competition placed the privileged few at a great advantage both in the acquisition of land and in every kind of trade and commerce. Under such circumstances the freedom from military service was probably not felt to be, a great boon, especially as at that time the prospect of booty and military pay was no doubt attractive to many of the impoverished population. Since 227 B.C. Sicily was placed under a praetor, who conducted the whole civil and military administration, including that of justice. This was the beginning of those annual viceroyalties with unlimited power which, in course of time, became the terrible scourge of the Roman provinces, and almost neutralized the advantages which, by the inforcement of internal peace, Rome was aide to bestow on the countries round the Mediterranean. The Roman nobles could not resist the temptation of abusing, for their own profit, the public authority which was intrusted to them for the government of the provinces; and as long as the Roman republic lasted, it never succeeded, in spite of many attempts, in putting down this great evil.

The consequences of the discontent in Sicily, and of the revolution which followed the death of Hiero, did not assume a threatening aspect till the following year. In the meantime the attention of the Roman senate was absorbed by other things nearer home. Since the censorship of C. Flaminius and L. Aemilius in the year 220, the senate had not been formally reconstituted. The public magistrates, from the quaestors upwards, enjoyed, it is true, the right, after the termination of their office, of joining in the deliberations of the senate, and of voting; but their number was not sufficient, even under ordinary circumstances, to keep the senate at its normal strength of three hundred members, and the censors were therefore obliged, every five years, on the revision of the list of senators, to admit into the senate a number of men from the general body of the citizens, who had not yet discharged any public office. But now the circumstances were most extraordinary. Many senators had fallen in battle; eighty were said to have perished at Cannae alone. Many were absent on the public service in various parts of Italy, in Spain, Sardinia, and Sicily. The senate therefore was reduced in numbers as it never had been since the establishment of the republic. Accordingly, when, in 213 B.C., the government had first taken measures for raising new armies, for providing the means of defence, and for prosecuting the war vigorously in every direction, it occupied itself with the task of filling up the numerous vacancies in the senate. It was found necessary to make a whole­sale addition of new senators, such as had been made, according to tradition, by Brutus after the expulsion of the kings. For this extraordinary measure the official authority of a regular censor seemed to be insufficient. Recourse was had therefore to the dictatorship, an office which in times of special difficulties had always rendered excellent service to the state. The disastrous year of the battle of Cannae, 216 B.C., had not yet come to an end, and the dictator M. Junius Pera was still in office, occupied with organizing the means of defence. As it seemed unadvisable to divert his attention from his more immediate duties, a proposal was made and adopted to elect a second dictator for the special purpose of raising the senate to its normal number—an innovation which shows that, under extraordinary circumstances, the Romans were not entirely the slaves of custom, but could adapt their institutions to the requirements of the time. C. Terentius Varro was called upon to nominate to the dictatorship the oldest of those who had discharged the office of censors before. This was M. Fabius Buteo, who had been consul in 245 B.C., five years before the close of the first Punic war, and censor in 241 at the time when that war was concluded. In the debate which now took place in the senate with respect to the nomination of new members, Spurius Carvilius proposed to admit two men from every Latin town. Never was a wiser proposal made than this, and no season was more suitable than the present for reinvigorating the Roman people with new blood, and for spreading the feeling and the right of citizenship over Italy. The Latins were in every respect worthy to be admitted to a share in the Roman franchise, and without their fidelity and courage Rome would undoubtedly have lost her preponderance in Italy and perhaps her independence. If now the best men from the several Latin towns had been received as representatives of those towns into the Roman senate, a step would have been taken leading to a sort of representative constitution, and tending to diminish the monopoly of legislative power enjoyed by the urban population of Rome, a monopoly which became more and more injurious and unnatural with the territorial extension of the republic. As yet no Latin town had exhibited the least system of discontent or disloyalty, and a generous and conciliatory policy on the part of Rome could not have been looked upon as a result of fear or of intimidation. But the Roman pride revolted now, as it had done more than a century before, and as it did again more than a century later, at the idea of admitting strangers to an equality with Romans; and Spurius Carvilius was silenced almost as if he had been a traitor to the majesty of Rome. His proposal was treated as if it had not been made, and the senators were bound not to divulge it, lest the Latins should venture to hope that hereafter they might possibly gain admission into the sanctuary of the Roman senate. A list of one hundred and seventy-seven new senators was drawn up, consisting of men who had discharged public offices, or proved themselves to be valiant soldiers. As soon as Fabius had performed this formal duty, he abdicated the dictatorship.

The most difficult task which the reorganized senate had to perform was to restore order in the finances, or rather to provide means for continuing the war. The public treasury was empty, the demands made upon the state for the maintenance of the fleets and armies became greater from year to year, and in the same proportion the resources of the state were diminished. The revenues of Sicily and Sardinia were not even sufficient for the support of the forces necessary for the defence of these islands, and could not therefore be applied to other purposes. A large portion of Italy was in possession of the enemy, and all its produce was lost to Rome. The tithes and rents of the state domains, the pastures, woods, mines, and saltworks in Campania, Samnium, Apulia, Lucania, and Bruttium were no longer paid, or not paid with regularity. Even where the enemy was not in actual possession, the war had reduced the public income. Many thousand citizens and tax-payers had fallen in battle or were in captivity; the scarcity of hands began to tell on the cultivation of the land; the families whose heads or supporters were serving in the army fell into poverty and debt, and the republic had already contracted loans in Sicily and Sardinia which it was unable to repay. The senate now adopted the plan of doubling the taxes, a most unsafe expedient, by which the extreme limit of the tax-paying power of the community could not fail soon to be reached or passed, and which accordingly paralysed this power for the future. But even this measure was not sufficient. Large sums of ready money were wanted to purchase supplies of provisions, clothing, and materials of war for the armies. The senate appealed to the patriotism of the rich, and the consequence was the formation of three companies of army purveyors, who undertook to supply all that was needed and to give the public credit till the end of the war. They only stipulated for freedom from military service for themselves, and required that the state should undertake the sea and war risks of the cargoes afloat. This offer seemed noble and generous; but experience showed that the most sordid motives had more share in it than patriotism or public spirit.

To obtain a supply of rowers for the fleet, the wealthier class of citizens were called upon to furnish, in proportion to their property, from one to eight men, and food for a period of from six to twelve months. In proposing this measure, the senate gave a proof of its devotion to the common cause; for the senators, as belonging to the richest class in the state, had to contribute most. But the middle class would not be surpassed by the senatorial order. Horsemen and officers refused to take pay, and the owners of the slaves who had been drafted for military service waived their right to compensation for their loss. The undertakers of public works and of repairs of temples and public buildings promised to wait till the conclusion of peace before claiming payment; trust moneys were applied to the use of the state: a universal enthusiasm had seized the whole nation. Every individual citizen looked for his own safety only in the safety of the commonwealth, and to save the commonwealth no sacrifice was held too dear.

One of the financial measures of this time, dating from the year 216 B.C., was the appointment of a commission, similar, as we may suppose, to that which in the year 352 B.C. relieved the debts of a great mass of the people by loans on sufficient security. But no satisfactory account is given of the proceedings of this commission, and we may reasonably doubt whether it effected much. It is one of the most difficult, and as yet unsolved, problems of financial skill to procure money where there is none. Paper has been a great temporary resource to modern financiers. But the Romans were innocent of this contrivance, and it is not likely, therefore, that they effected more than the alchemists of the middle ages, who vainly sought the secret of changing base metal into gold.

In times of extreme danger, when the commonwealth is suffering from an insufficiency of means, it seems unnatural and unjustifiable that private citizens should indulge in an unnecessary display of riches. On the contrary it seems just that private wealth should be made to minister to the necessities of the state. This, at any rate, was the feeling of the Romans when they strained every nerve to make head against Carthage. They hit upon the idea of limiting private extravagance. On the motion of the tribune C. Oppius, a law was passed forbidding the women to apply more than half an ounce of gold for their personal ornaments, to dress in coloured (i.e. purple) robes, and to drive within the town in carriages. This law was enforced; but the Roman ladies found it a great hardship, and submitted to it with a heavy heart as long as the war lasted, but not longer, as we shall see in the sequel.

The extraordinary measures adopted for replenishing the public treasury were not superfluous. For the coming year Rome maintained not less than twenty-one legions and a fleet of one hundred and fifty vessels. The war assumed larger proportions from year to year, and baffled all the calculations which had been made at its commencement, when one consular army in Spain and one in Africa were supposed to be sufficient to resist the power of Carthage. Eight legions alone were required to keep Hannibal in check; three were employed m the north of Italy against the Gauls: one was kept ready near Brundusium to meet the expected attack of the king of Macedonia; two formed the garrison of Rome; two held Sicily, and two Sardinia. Including the army engaged in Spain, the Roman land and sea forces cannot have amounted to less than 200,000 men, that is, one-fourth of the population of Italy capable of bearing arms

The results accomplished were not what might have been expected from this prodigious display of strength, and although Fabius and Marcellus, the two ablest generals that Rome possessed, were elected consuls for the year 214. The events of this year are of trifling importance, and can be summed up in a few words. Hannibal was prevented from gaining more ground in Italy; his attempts to get possession of Neapolis, Tarentum, and Puteoli were thwarted; his lieutenant Hanno, with an army consisting chiefly of Bruttians and Lucanians, was defeated near Beneventum by Gracchus, who commanded the corps of 6.000 slaves raised after the battle of Cannae, and now rewarded their courage by giving them their freedom. Hannibal, it is alleged, was repulsed a third time by Marcellus at Nola, and (what was for him the greatest loss) Casilinum was retaken by the Romans, owing to the treason and cowardice of 2,000 Campanian soldiers of the garrison, who, by betraying the town and seven hundred men of Hannibal’s troops, sought to purchase their own safety. Meanwhile the king of Macedonia did not make the expected attack on Italy. The Gauls, after their great victory over Postumius early in the year 215, remained quiet; several Samnite communities that had revolted were again subdued by the Romans and severely punished. It seemed that Hannibal must soon be crushed by the overwhelming power of his enemies, whilst the reinforcements for which he looked were delayed, and his friends and allies became either lukewarm or wreak. Yet the terror of his name was undiminished. He was a power in himself, independent of all cooperation from without, and no Roman general ventured as yet to attack him, even with the greatest superiority of numbers.

Meanwhile a revolution had taken place in Sicily which in an unexpected manner revived the hopes of Carthage. Hiero’s grandson and successor, Hieronymus, a boy of fifteen, was entirely guided by a few ambitious men and women, who deluded themselves with the hope of being able to make use of the war between Rome and Carthage for the aggrandizement of the power of Syracuse and of the royal house. Andranodoros and Zoippos, the sons-in-law of Hiero, and Themistos, the husband of a daughter of Gelon, having put aside, soon after Hiero’s death, the council of regency of fifteen members which had been established by Hiero for the guidance of his youthful successor, persuaded the boy that he was old enough to be independent of guardians and councillors, and thus they practically seized the government themselves. In vain the dying Hiero had conjured his family to continue his policy of a close alliance with Rome, which had so far proved eminently successful. They were not satisfied with simply preserving the government of Syracuse and the small part of Sicily which the Romans had allowed Hiero to retain. Seeing no chance of enlarging the Syracusan dominion by free concessions on the part of the Romans, they directed their hopes towards Carthage, which after the battle of Cannae seemed to them to have gained a decided superiority.

Hiero had scarcely closed his eyes when Hieronymus opened communications with Carthage. Hannibal, who in the midst of his military operations watched and guided the policy of the Carthaginian government, sent to Syracuse two men who were eminently fitted by their descent and abilities to act as negotiators between the two states. These were two brothers, Hippokrates and Epikydes, Carthaginians by birth and Syracusans by descent, their grandfather having been expelled from his native country by the tyrant Agathokles and having settled in Carthage and married a Carthaginian wife. They had long served in Hannibal’s army, and were equally distinguished as soldiers and as politicians. As soon as they arrived in Syracuse, they exercised unbounded influence as the advisers of Hieronymus. They promised him at first the possession of half the island, and when they found that his wishes went further, they at once agreed that he should be king of all Sicily after the expulsion of the Romans. It was not worthwhile, the Carthaginians thought, to haggle about the price to be paid to so valuable an ally, especially as the payment was to be made at the expense of the common enemy. These transactions between Hieronymus and Carthage could not be carried on in secret. They became known to Appius Claudius, who, commanding as praetor in Sicily in 215, repeatedly sent messengers to Syracuse, warning the king of any steps which might endanger his friendly relations with Rome. In truth Rome ought to have at once declared war; but she was little inclined, and not at all prepared, in the year after Cannae to meet a new enemy, and Claudius probably entertained hopes of gaining his end without a rupture, either by intimidation or by an internal revolution in Syracuse.

Such hopes were not unfounded; for, immediately after the death of Hiero, a republican party had been formed at Syracuse, headed by the wealthiest and most influential citizens. The turbulent Syracusans had now quietly submitted for an unusually long time to a stable and orderly government. As during Hiero’s lifetime all opposition would have been nipped in the bud by the king’s popularity, not less than by his prudence and caution, the republicans had not stirred; but Hieronymus inspired contempt by his folly and arrogance, and he provoked the enemies of despotism by showing that he possessed the qualities, not of his grandfather, but of the worst tyrants that had preceded him. Whilst Hiero, in his dress and mode of living, had made no distinction between himself and the simple citizens, Syracuse now, as in the days of the tyrant Dionysius, saw her ruler surrounded by royal pomp, wearing a diadem and purple robes, and followed by armed bodyguards. His authority was no longer based on the willing submission of the people, but on foreign mercenaries and on the lowest populace, who had always hailed the advent of tyrants, and hoped from them a share in the spoils of the rich. The better class of citizens desired the overthrow of despotic government and an alliance with the Romans, the natural friends and patrons of the aristocratic party.

The fermentation continued during the remainder of the year 215. One of the conspirators was discovered and cruelly tortured, but died without naming his accomplices. Many innocent persons were put to death, and Hieronymus, thinking himself safe, was prosecuting his schemes for the enlargement of his kingdom in 214, when he was betrayed by one of his own bodyguard into the hands of the conspirators, who killed him as he was passing through a narrow lane in the city of Leontini. This deed was the signal for one of those sanguinary civil wars which so often convulsed the unhappy city of Syracuse. Whilst the body of Hieronymus lay neglected in the street at Leontini, the conspirators rushed back to Syracuse, to call the people to arms and to liberty. A rumour of what had happened had preceded them, and when they arrived in the evening, bearing the blood-stained cloak and the diadem of the tyrant, the whole town was in a fever of excitement. When the death of Hieronymus became known for certain, the people rushed into the temples and tore from the walls the Gallic arms which Hiero had received from the Romans as his share of the booty after the victory at Telamon. Sentinels were placed in different parts of the town, and all important posts were secured. In the course of the night the whole of Syracuse was in the power of the insurgents, with the exception of the island Ortygia.

This small island was the place where the first Greek colonists had settled. As the town increased in population, the inhabitants removed to the adjoining mainland, and the island Ortygia became the fortress of Syracuse. A narrow strip of land connected it with the mainland, but the access was defended by strong lines of wall. Behind these walls the masters of Syracuse had frequently defied their insurgent subjects, and from this stronghold they had issued to regain their authority. For a moment this was now attempted by Andranodoros, who after the death of Hieronymus was the head of the royal family, and was stimulated by his ambitious wife Damarate, the daughter of Hiero, to resist the insurgents and to uphold the cause of monarchy. But he found that a part of the garrison of Ortygia was inclined to side with the conspirators, and there was, consequently, nothing left to him but to declare his adhesion to the popular cause and to deliver up to the republicans the keys of the fortress. He even affected zeal in joining the revolutionary party, and was elected as one of the magistrates to govern the new republic. The cause of liberty triumphed, and with it the policy of those sensible and moderate men who wished to remain faithful to the Roman alliance. Hippokrates and Epikydes, the agents of Hannibal, found that their mission had failed, and that they could no longer safely remain in Syracuse. They requested a safe-conduct to return to Italy into Hannibal’s camp.

But Andranodoros had not given up the hope of preserving the dominion over Syracuse for himself and the family of Hiero. He was suspected, justly or unjustly, of a plan for overthrowing the republican government and for assassinating its chiefs. Impartial inquiry and fair trial were never thought of in the civil broils of Syracuse. The party that brought forward an accusation acted at the same time as judge and executioner, and resorted to violence and treachery without the least scruple. Accordingly, when Andranodoros one day entered the senate with his kinsman Themistos, the husband of Gelon’s daughter, they were both seized and put to death. Nor did their death seem a sufficient guarantee for the safety of the republic against a restoration of the monarchy. It was resolved to root out the whole family of Hiero. Murderers were dispatched to the palace, which now became a scene of the most atrocious carnage. Damarate, the daughter, and Harmonia, the grand-daughter, of Hiero, were murdered first. Herakleia, another daughter of Hiero, and wife of Zoippos, who was at that time absent in Egypt, fled with her two youthful daughters into a domestic sanctuary, and in vain implored mercy for herself and her innocent children. She was dragged away from the altar and butchered. Her daughters, besprinkled with their mother’s blood, only prolonged their sufferings by trying to escape, and fell at last under the blows of their pursuers. Thus was destroyed the house of a prince who had ruled over Syracuse for half a century, and had been universally admired and envied as one of the wisest, happiest, and best of men.

This deed of horror bore evil fruits to the authors. It could not fail to bring about a reaction in public opinion, and consequently when, soon after, two new magistrates were elected in the place of Andranodoros and Themistos, the choice of the people fell on Hippokrates and Epikydes, who, in the hope of some such chance, had prolonged their stay in Syracuse, and had, no doubt, in doing so risked their lives. Their election was evidently to be attributed to the populace and the army, which began to exercise more and more influence in the civil affairs of Syracuse, and a considerable part of which consisted of Roman deserters, who wished at all hazards to bring about a rupture with Rome. From this moment began the counter-revolution, which was soon followed by the most deplorable anarchy. When the magistrates showed their desire to renew the Roman alliance, and for this purpose sent messengers to the praetor and received Roman messengers in return, the people and the army began to be agitated. The agitation increased when a Carthaginian fleet showed itself in the neighbourhood of Pachynus, inspiring the enemies of Rome with confidence and courage. When, therefore, Appius Claudius, to counteract this movement, appeared with a Roman fleet at the mouth of the harbour, the Carthaginian party thought themselves betrayed, and the crowd rushed tumultuously into the port to resist a lauding of the Romans, if they should attempt it.

Thus the unhappy town was tom by two hostile parties; nor was the form of government the only object of contention. The independence and the very existence of Syracuse were involved in the struggle. For a time it seemed that the government, and with it the friends of Rome, would prevail. The greatest obstacles in the way of an arrangement with Home were the two Carthaginian brothers, who, from being the agents and messengers of Hannibal, had been elected among the Syracusan magistrates. If these two men could be got rid of the government, it was thought, was strong enough to carry out its policy of reconciliation with Rome. Force could not be employed against men who enjoyed the favour of a great mass of the people and were the idols of the soldiers. But a decent pretext was not wanting. The town of Leontini asked for military protection. Hippokrates was sent thither with a body of 4,000 men. But no sooner did he find himself in possession of an independent command than he began to act in direct opposition to the government. He incited the people of Leontini to assert their independence of Syracuse, and, to precipitate matters, he surprised and cut to pieces a military post of the Romans on the frontier, and thus de facto commenced the war with Rome. As yet, however, the government of Syracuse was not compromised by this act of hostility. They disavowed all participation in this violation of the still existing alliance, and offered to put down the rebellion of Hippokrates and the Leontinians in conjunction with a Roman force. The Roman praetor Marcellus, however, did not wait for the cooperation of the Syracusan force, which, 8,000 strong, left Syracuse under the command of their ‘strategoi’. Before they arrived Marcellus had taken Leontini by force, and had inflicted severe punishment on the rebels and mutineers. Two thousand Roman deserters who had been taken in the town were scourged and beheaded. Hippokrates and his brother escaped with difficulty to the neighbouring fort of Herbessos. Again the Carthaginian party seemed annihilated, but again the cruelty shown by their opponents brought about a reaction. When the Syracusan troops, on their march to Leontini, heard of the storming of the town by the Romans, and of the terrible punishment inflicted on the citizens, and especially on the captive soldiers, they feared that their government would deliver up all the deserters among them to the vengeance of the Romans. They not only refused, therefore, to attack Hippokrates and Epikydes in Herbessos, but, fraternising with them, drove away their officers and marched back to Syracuse under the command of the very men whom they had been sent to capture. In Syracuse an exaggerated report had been spread of the brutality of the Romans in Leontini, and had revived the ill-feeling of the populace towards the Romans. In spite of the resistance of the strategoi the soldiers were admitted into the town, and this was the signal for all the worst horrors of anarchy. The slaves were set fee, the prisons broken open and the inmates let loose, the strategoi murdered or expelled, their houses ransacked. Syracuse was now at the mercy of the populace, the soldiers, deserters, slaves, and condemned offenders; the only men enjoying anything like authority and obedience were Hippokrates and Epikydes. The Carthaginian party was completely triumphant, and the Romans, in addition to their numerous difficulties, had now a new and most arduous task imposed on them—the reduction by force of the principal town of Sicily, which in the hands of the Carthaginians made the whole island an unsafe possession, and cut off all prospect of ending the war by a descent on the African coast.

Sosis, one of the expelled strategoi, and a leader of the j republican movement from the very beginning, brought to  Marcellus the news of what had happened. The Roman general at once marched upon Syracuse, and took up a position on the south side of the town, near the temple of the Olympian Zeus and not far from the great harbour, while Appius Claudius anchored with the fleet in front of the town. The oldest part of Syracuse was in the small island Ortygia, which separates the large harbour in the south from a much smaller one on the north. On this island was the famous fountain of Arethousa, which seemed to gush forth, even from the sea, at a place where, according to a myth, the nymph—who, as she fled from the river-god Alpheios, had thrown herself into the sea from the shores of Elis—had re-appeared above the waters. Such islands, near to the mainland, easy of defence and containing good anchoring-ground, were on all the coasts of the Mediterranean the favourite spots where the Phoenicians used to settle in the primeval period long before the wanderings of the Greeks.

On this island accordingly, as in many similar places, a Phoenician settlement had preceded the Greeks; but when here, as on the whole eastern half of Sicily, the Semitic traders retired before the warlike Greeks, the latter soon became too numerous for the islet of Ortygia. They extended their settlement to the mainland of Sicily, and built a new town, called Achradina, along the sea-coast, on the north wide of the original town on the islet. Achradina became now the principal part of Syracuse, whilst Ortygia, more and more cleared of private dwellings, became a fortress, containing the palaces of the successive tyrants, the magazines, the treasure-houses, and the barracks for the mercenaries. It was strongly fortified all round, but especially on the northern side, where a narrow artificial neck of land connected it with the nearer portions of Syracuse. It thus formed a formidable stronghold, and its possession was indispensable for those who wished to control the town. During the memorable siege of Syra­cuse in the Peloponnesian war by the Athenian armament, the town consisted only of the two parts—the island of Ortygia and Achradina; but at a subsequent period there arose on the western side of the latter two suburbs, called Tyche and Neapolis, each of which was, like Achradina and Ortygia, surrounded with walls and separately fortified. Dionysius the elder considerably enlarged the circumference of the town by fortifying the northern and south­western side of the whole slope called Epipolae, which, in the form of a triangle, rose with a gradual incline to a point called Euryalis, in the west of Achradina, Tyche, and Neapolis. Thus a large space was included in the fortifications of Syracuse; but this space was never quite covered with buildings, and the population was not large enough, even in the most flourishing period, to man effectually the whole extent of wall, amounting to eighteen miles; but the natural strength of the town made the defence more easy. The walls, which from the northern and southern extremities of the older town ran westward and converged at the fort Euryalus, stood on precipitous rocks, and were therefore easily defended, even by a comparatively small number of troops. Moreover Hiero had in his long reign accumulated in abundance all possible means of defence. The ingenious Archimedes, liberally supported by his royal friend, was in possession of all material and scientific resources for the construction of the most perfect engines of war that the world had hitherto seen. If we recollect how often Hiero in the first Punic war supplied the Romans with munitions of war, and that he gave fifty ballistae to the Rhodians after the earthquake, we may form an idea of the extensive scale on which machinery of this kind must have been manufactured in Syracuse, and how large a stock must have been there ready for use.

The attempts of Marcellus to take Syracuse by storm failed, accordingly, in the most signal manner. On the land side the wall-crested rocks defied all the usual modes of attack with ladders, movable towers, or battering-rams. On the sea-front of Achradina sixty Roman vessels, venturing to approach the walls, lashed two-and-two together, and carrying wooden towers and battering-rams, were driven back by an overwhelming shower of great and small missiles from the bastions and from behind the loop-holed walls; some ships, caught by iron hooks, were raised partly out of the water, and then dashed back, to the dismay of the crews, so that at length they apprehended danger when they only saw a beam or a rope on the wall, which might turn out to be a new instrument of destruction invented by the dreaded Archimedes. Marcellus saw that it was of no use to persist in his attacks. Syracuse, which had repeatedly resisted the power of Carthage and the Athenian armada, was indeed not likely to be taken by force. He therefore gave up the siege, but remained in the neighbourhood in a strong position for the purpose of watching the town and cutting off supplies and reinforcements. It was impossible to blockade Syracuse by a regular circumvallation, on account of the vast extent of her walls; and this would have been useless, even if it had been possible, so long as the harbour was open to the Carthaginian fleet.

From the moment when Syracuse passed over from the Roman to the Carthaginian alliance, the chief momentum of the war seemed shifted from Italy to Sicily. The attention of both the belligerent nations was again turned to the scene of their first great struggle, and thither both now sent new fleets and armies. It was Hannibal himself who advised the Carthaginian government to send reinforcements to Sicily instead of Italy. The Romans had already a considerable force on the island, and now sent a new legion, which, as Hannibal blocked the land road through Lucania au Bruttium, was conveyed by sea from Ostia to Panormus. Of the exact strength of the Roman armies in Sicily we are not informed. The garrisons of the numerous towns must have absorbed a great number of troops, apart from the force engaged before Syracuse. A considerable portion of Sicily was inclined to rebellion, and in several places rebellion had already broken out. The towns of Helorus, Herbessus, and Megara, which had revolted, were retaken by Marcellus and destroyed, as a warning to all those that were wavering in their fidelity. Nevertheless, as at this very time Himilco had landed with 15,000 Carthaginians and twelve elephants at Heraclea in the west of the island, the insurrection against Rome spread, under the protection and encouragement of the Carthaginian arms. Agrigentum, though destroyed in the first Punic war, was still of great importance, from the strength of its position. Marcellus marched upon it in all haste from Syracuse, to prevent its being occupied by the Carthaginians; but he came too late. Himilco had already seized Agrigentum, and made it the base of his operations. At the same time a fleet of fifty-five Carthaginian vessels entered the harbour of Syracuse, and thereupon Himilco, advancing with his army, established his camp under the southern walls of Syracuse, near the river Anapus.

The situation of the Romans, close before the hostile town, and in the immediate vicinity of a hostile army, was by no means satisfactory. But it became still worse when the town of Murgantia (probably in the vicinity of Syracuse) where they had large magazines, was betrayed to the Punians by the inhabitants. The Romans now felt that they were nowhere safe; but, although their suspicions justified not only precaution but even severity, we cannot, even at this distance of time, read without indignation and disgust the report of the way in which the Roman garrison of Enna treated a defenceless population on a mere suspicion of treason. The town of Enna (Castro Giovanni), situated in the central part of the island on an isolated rock difficult of access, was of great importance on account of the natural strength of its position. Ancient myths called it the place where Persephone (Proserpina) the daughter of Demeter, was seized by Hades, the god of the regions beneath the earth. A temple of the goddess was a national sanctuary for all the inhabitants of Sicily, and conferred on Enna the character of a sacred city. In the first Punic war it had suffered much and had been repeatedly taken by one or the other belligerent. It had now a strong Roman garrison, commanded by L. Pinarius. The inhabitants, it appears, felt little attachment to Rome, and probably L. Pinarius had good reason to be on his guard day and night. But fear urged him to commit an act of atrocity which rendered his own name infamous and sullied the honour of his country. He called upon the inhabitants of Enna to lay their requests before him in a general assembly of the people. Meanwhile he gave secret instructions to his men, posted sentinels all round the public theatre where the popular assembly was held, and upon a given signal the Roman soldiers rushed upon the defenceless people, killed them indiscriminately, and then sacked the town, as if it had been taken by storm. The consul Marcellus not only approved of this iniquitous deed but rewarded the perpetrators, and allowed them to keep the plunder of the unhappy town, hoping, no doubt, thus to terrify the vacillating Sicilians into obedience to Rome.

The carnage of Enna reminds us of similar acts of atrocity committed by Italian warriors in Messana, Rhegium, and more recently in Casilinum. But the crime had never been so openly approved and rewarded by the first representative of the Roman community. The defenders of Casilinum had acted not only as murderers, but also as brave soldiers; but L. Pinarius and his men were rewarded with the spoils of their victims without showing that they were as brave as they were treacherous, bloodthirsty, and  greedy. It seemed that the war rendered more ferocious the minds of the men who were destined to receive and to spread the civilization of antiquity and to defend it from the barbarians of the north and of the south.

The cruel punishment of Enna failed to produce the effect which the Romans had expected. Hatred and aversion acted even more powerfully than fear. The towns which had as yet been only wavering in their allegiance joined the Carthaginian side all over Sicily. Himilco left his position before Syracuse, and made expeditions in every direction to organize and support the insurrection against Rome. Thus passed the year 213 B.C. Towards its close, Marcellus, with a part of his army, took up his winter-quarters in a fortified camp five miles to the west of Syracuse, without abandoning, however, the camp previously established near the temple of the Olympian Zeus in the south of the town. Lacking the means of blockading the town, he remained in the neighbourhood only in the hope of obtaining possession of it by some stratagem, or by treason.

The result showed that his calculations were just. The republican party in Syracuse was indeed vanquished and broken up by the soldiers and the populace; and its chiefs, the murderers of Hieronymus and of the family of Hiero, were in exile, mostly in the Roman camp. All power was in the hands of the foreign mercenaries and deserters, and Syracuse was de facto a Carthaginian fortress under the command of Hippokrates and Epikydes. Nevertheless the republican party found the means of keeping up with the Romans a regular correspondence, the object of which was to deliver up the town into their hands. In fishing boats, hidden under nets, messengers were secretly despatched from the harbour of Syracuse into the Roman camp, and found their way back in the same manner. Thus were discussed and settled the conditions under which the town was to be betrayed. Marcellus promised that the Syracusans should be restored to the same position which they had occupied as Roman allies under King Hiero; they were to retain their liberty and their own laws. All the preparations were already made for carrying out the proposed plan, when it became known to Epikydes, and eighty of the conspirators were put to death. Thus baffled, Marcellus nevertheless persevered in his scheme. By his partisans he was informed of everything that took place within the town. He knew that a great festival was about to be celebrated to Artemis, which was to last for three days. He justly expected that on this occasion great laxity would be shown in guarding the walls. Marcellus had observed that in one part of the fortifications, on the northern side, the wall was so low that it could be easily scaled with ladders. To this place he sent, on one of the festive nights, a party of soldiers, who succeeded in reaching the top of the wall, and, under the guidance of the Syracusan Sosis, one of the conspirators, proceeded to the gate called Hoxapylon. Here the drunken guardsmen were found sleeping and quickly dispatched, the gate was opened, and the signal given to a body of Roman troops outside to advance and enter the town. When the morn­ing dawned, Epipolte, the upper part of the town, was in the hands of the Romans. The suburbs Tyche and Neapolis, which in former times had been protected by walls on the side of Epipolae, were now probably open on the west, since Dionysius had constructed the wall which inclosed the whole space of Epipolae. They could not, therefore, be held tor any longtime after the Romans were inside the common wall. But on the extreme west point of Epipolae, the strong detached fort Euryalus defied all attacks. Marcellus was therefore still very far from being master of Syracuse. Not only Euryalus and the island of Ortygia, but Achradina, the largest and most important part of Syracuse, had still to be taken; and these had lost nothing of their strength by the fact that the suburbs were now in the power of the Romans. In truth the siege of Syracuse lasted for some months longer, and the difficulties of the Romans were now doubled rather than diminished. It is, therefore, a silly anecdote which relates that when, on the morning after the taking of Epipolao, Marcellus saw the rich town spread out before his feet and now within his grasp, he shed tears of joy and emotion. He summoned the garrisons of Euryalus and Achradina. The deserters who kept guard on the walls of Achradina would not even allow the Roman heralds to approach or to speak. On the other hand the commander of Euryalus, a Greek mercenary from Argos called Philodemos, showed himself ready after a while to listen to the proposals of the Syracusan Sosis, and evacuated the place. Marcellus was now safe in his rear and had no longer to apprehend a simultaneous attack from the garrison of the town in front and from an army approaching by land in his rear. He encamped on the ground between the two suburbs Tyche and Neapolis, and gave these up to be plundered by his soldiers as a foretaste of the booty of Syracuse. Soon after, a Carthaginian army, under Hippokrates and Himilco, marched upon Syracuse, and attacked the Roman camp near the temple of Zeus Olympios, whilst, simultaneously, Epikydes made a sally from Achradina upon the other Roman camp between the suburbs. These attacks failed. On every point the Romans kept their ground; and thus the hostile forces within and before Syracuse remained for some time in the same relative position, without being able to make an impression either one way or the other. Meanwhile summer advanced, and a malignant disease broke out in the Carthaginian camp, which was pitched on the low ground by the river Anapus. In times past the deadly climate of Syracuse had more than once delivered the town from her enemies. Under the very walls of the town a Carthaginian army had perished in the reign of the elder Dionysius. Now the climate proved as disastrous to the defenders as it had formerly done to the besiegers of Syracuse. The Carthaginians were struck down by the disease in masses. When a great part of the men and of the officers, and among them Hippokrates and Himilco themselves, had been carried off, the remainder of the troops, consisting for the most part of Sicilians, dispersed in different directions. The Romans also suffered from the disease; but the higher parts of Syracuse, where they were stationed, were more cool and airy than the low ground on the banks of the Anapus; and moreover the houses of the suburbs Tyche and Neapolis afforded shelter from the deadly rays of the sun, so that the Roman loss was comparatively small. Nevertheless Marcellus had, as yet, no prospect of taking by storm a town so vigorously defended, nor could he reduce it by famine, as the port was open to the Carthaginian vessels. At this very time Carthage made renewed efforts to supply Syracuse with provisions. Seven hundred transports, laden with supplies, were dispatched to Sicily under the convoy of one hundred and thirty ships of war. This fleet had already reached Agrigentum when it was detained by contrary winds. Epikydes, impatient of delay, left Syracuse and proceeded to Agrigentum, for the purpose of urging Bomilcar, the Carthaginian admiral, to make an attack upon the Roman fleet which lay at anchor near the promontory of Pachynus. Bomilcar advanced with his ships of war; but, when the Romans sailed to meet him, he avoided them, and steered to Tarentum, after having dispatched an order to the transports to return to Africa. The cause of this extraordinary proceeding does not appear in the account handed down to us. If it he true, as Livy reports, that Bomilcar’s fleet was stronger than that of the Romans, it cannot have been fear which prevented him from accepting battle. Perhaps he thought that his presence at Tarentum was more necessary than at Syracuse; perhaps he quarrelled with Epikydes. At any rate he left to its own resources the town which he was sent to relieve, and thus spread discouragement among its defenders and hastened its fall.

From this moment the fate of Syracuse was sealed. Epikydes himself probably lost all hope, as he did not return, but remained in Agrigentum. Again the republican party took courage. The leaders of this party renewed negotiations with the Romans, and again Marcellus guaranteed the liberty and independence of Syracuse as the price for surrendering the town. But the friends of Rome were not able to fulfill the promises they had made. The unhappy town was torn by a desperate struggle between the citizens and the soldiers. At first the citizens had the advantage. They succeeded in killing the chief officers appointed by Epikydes, and in electing republican magistrates in their place, who were ready to hand the town over to the Romans. The lawless soldiery seemed overpowered for a moment. But, after a short time, that faction among the troops got the upper hand again who had a just apprehension that their lives were in jeopardy if they fell into the hands of the Romans. The foreign mercenaries were persuaded to resist to the last. Another revolution followed. The republican magistrates were murdered, and a general massacre and pillage signalized the final triumph of the enemies of Rome and of Syracuse. The unhappy town resembled a helpless wreck, drifting fast toward a reef whilst the crew, instead of battling with the elements, spends its last strength in bloody internecine strife.

Even now Marcellus did not make a direct attempt to take Syracuse by force until he had secured the cooperation of a party in the town. The troops had chosen six captains, each of whom was to defend a certain part of the walls. Among these captains was a Spanish officer of the name of Mericus, who commanded on the southern side of Ortygia. Seeing that the town could not possibly be held much longer, and that therefore it was high time to make his peace if he wished to obtain favourable terms, at least for those soldiers who were not deserters, he entered secretly into negotiations with Marcellus. An agreement was soon made. A barge approached at night the southern extremity of Ortygia, and landed a party of Roman soldiers, who were admitted through a postern-gate into the fortification. On the following day Marcellus ordered a general attack upon the walls of Achradina, and whilst the garrison rushed from all parts, and also from Ortygia to the threatened spot, Roman soldiers landed in several ships unopposed on Ortygia and occupied the place with a sufficient force. Having made sure of the fact that Ortygia was in his power, Marcellus at once desisted from any further attack on Achradina, well knowing that, after the fall of Ortygia, the defence of Achradina would not be continued. His calculation proved correct. During the following night the deserters found means of escaping, and in the morning the gates were opened to admit the victorious army.

Thus, at length, after a siege that had lasted more than two years, the Romans reaped the fruit of their dogged perseverance. If any town that had ever succumbed to the Roman arms was justified in expecting a lenient, or even a generous treatment, this town assuredly was Syracuse. The invaluable services which Hiero had rendered in the course of more than half a century, could not in justice be considered as balanced by the follies of a child, and by the hostility of a political party with which the better class of Syracusan citizens had never sympathized. From the very beginning of the sad complications and revolutions at Syracuse, the true republican party, which was attached to order and freedom, inclined to Rome and wished to continue the foreign policy of Hiero. It was they who conspired to put down the tyrant Hieronymus and his anti-Roman relations and councillors. They had attempted to rid themselves of the emissaries of Hannibal and of their adherents in the army; they were overpowered without renouncing their plans; they had made every effort, in conjunction with their exiled friends who had taken refuge in the camp of Marcellus, to deliver Syracuse into the hands of the Romans; they had resisted the reign of terror exercised by the foreign mercenaries and the Roman deserters, and many of them lost their lives in the attempt to deliver their native town from the tyranny of an armed mob of mutineers and traitors, and to renew the old alliance with Rome. Syracuse had not rebelled against Rome, but had implored assistance from Rome against its worst oppressors. Not only clemency and magnanimity, but even justice, should have prompted the conquerors to look upon the sufferings of Syracuse in this light; and it would have been the undying glory of Marcellus—brighter than the most splendid triumph—if, on obtaining possession, he had shielded the wretched town from further miseries. He would indeed have acted right in punishing with Roman severity the soldiers who had violated the military oath and deserted their colours, and who were the chief cause of the pertinacity of the struggle. But he ought to have spared the citizens of the town, the deplorable victims of hostile factions. He did the very opposite. He allowed the deserters to escape, perhaps with the object of being able to plunder so much the more leisurely, and he treated the town as it had been taken by storm, handing it over to the rapacity of soldiers maddened to fury by the long resistance and by the prospect of plunder and revenge. The noble Syracuse, which had ranked in the foremost line of the fairest cities that bore the Hellenic name, fell never to rise again from that time to the present. Marcellus had indeed promised that the lives of the people should be spared; but how such a promise was kept we may infer from the savage murder of the best man in Syracuse, whose grey hair and venerable, thought-furrowed forehead ought to have shielded him from the steel even of a barbarian. Where Archimedes was slain, because, absorbed in his studies, he did not readily understand the demand of a plundering soldier, there, we may be sure, ignoble blood was shed without stint. Marcellus was intent only on obtaining possession of the royal treasures, which he hoped to find in the island of Ortygia; but it is hardly likely that much of them had been left by the successive masters of Syracuse during the time of anarchy. On the other hand, the works of art which had been accumulated in Syracuse during the periods of prosperity were still extant. These were all, without exception, taken, to be sent to Rome. Syracuse was not the first town where the Romans learnt and practised this kind of public spoliation. Tarentum and Volsinii had already experienced the rapacity rather than the taste of the Romans for works of art. But the art treasures of Syracuse were so numerous and so splendid that they threw into the shade everything of the sort that had been transported to Rome before. It came therefore to be a received tradition that Marcellus was the first who set the example of enriching Rome, at the expanse of her conquered enemies, with the triumphs of Greek art.

Fourth Period of the Hannibalian War.

FROM THE TAKING OF SYRACUSE TO THE CAPTURE OF CAPUA, 212-211 B.C.

By the taking of Syracuse the war in Sicily was decided aurrender in favour of the Romans, but not by any means finished. Agrigentum was still held by the Carthaginians, and a great number of Sicilian towns were on their side. A Libyan cavalry general, named Mutines, sent to Sicily by Hannibal, and operating in conjunction with Hanno and Epikydes, gave the Romans a great deal of trouble. But when Mutines had quarrelled with the other Carthaginian generals, and had gone over to the Romans in consequence, the fortune of war inclined more and more to the side of the latter. At length, two years after the fall of Syracuse, Mutines betrayed Agrigentum to the Romans. The consul, M. Valerius Laevinus, who then commanded in Sicily, ordered the leading inhabitants of Agrigentum to be scourged and beheaded, the rest to be sold as slaves, and the town to be sacked. This severe punishment had the effect of terrifying the other towns. Forty of them submitted voluntarily, twenty were betrayed, and only six had to be taken by force. All resistance to the Roman arms in Sicily was now broken, and the island returned to the peace and slavery of a Roman province. Its principal task was henceforth to grow corn for feeding the sovereign populace of the capital, and to allow itself to be plundered systematically by farmers of the revenue, traders, usurers, and, above all, by the annual governors.

It was most fortunate for Rome that, by the fall of Syracuse in 212, the Sicilian war had taken a favourable turn. For the same year was so disastrous to them in other parts, that the prospect for the future became more and more gloomy. In Spain the two brothers Scipio had, after the successful campaign of 215, continued the war in the following year with the same happy results. Several battles are reported for this year, in which they are said invariably to have beaten the Carthaginians. We may safely pass over the detailed accounts of these events, which are of no historical value, from their evident air of exaggeration, and on account of our ignorance of the ancient geography of Spain. Yet, through all misrepresentations, it appears certain that the war was continued in Spain, and that the Carthaginians were not able to carry out Hannibal’s plan of sending an army across the Pyrenees and Alps to cooperate with the army already in Italy. How much of this result is due to the genius of the Roman generals and to the bravery of the Roman legions it is impossible to ascertain from the partial accounts of the annalists, who probably derived their information chiefly from the traditions of the Scipionic family. One cause of the failure of the Carthaginians lay no doubt in the frequent rebellions among the Spanish tribes, which the Romans instigated and turned to their own advantage. But the principal cause was a war in Africa with Syphax, a Numidian chief or king, which seems to have been very serious, and which compelled them to withdraw Hasdrubal and a part of their army from Spain for the defence of their home territory. This circumstance operated most powerfully in favour of the Roman arms in Spain, leaving the Scipios almost unopposed, and enabling them to overrun the Carthaginian possessions, and to obtain a footing south of the river Ebro. In the year 214, the Romans took Saguntum, and restored it as an independent allied town five years after its capture by Hannibal. They also entered into relations with King Syphax. Every enemy of Carthage was of course an ally of Rome, and valuable in proportion as he was troublesome or dangerous to Carthage. Roman officers were dispatched into Africa to train the undisciplined soldiers of the Numidian prince, and especially to form an infantry, after the Roman model, which might be capable of resisting the Carthaginians in the field. Such a task as this, however, would have required more time than the Roman officers could devote to it. It seems that Syphax derived no benefit from the attempt to turn his irregular horsemen into legionary soldiers. He was soon after in great difficulties. The Carthaginians secured the alliance of another Numidian chief, called Gula, whose son Masinissa, a youth seventeen years old, gave now the first evidence of a military ability and an ambition destined in the sequel to become most fatal to the Carthaginians. Syphax was completely defeated and expelled from his dominions. He came to the Romans as a fugitive about the same time that Hasdrubal, after the victorious termination of the African war, returned to Spain with considerable reinforcements.

The fortune of war now changed rapidly and decidedly. The Scipios, having long been left without a supply of new troops from home, had been obliged to enroll a great number of Spanish mercenaries. Rome now learnt to know the difference between mercenaries and an army of citizens. It was not indeed the first time that such troops had been employed. In the first Punic war a body of Gallic deserters had been taken into Homan pay. The Cenomanians and other tribes of Cisalpine Gaul, mentioned as serving on the Roman side in the beginning of the Hannibalian war, were no doubt regularly paid, and were, in fact, mercenaries. So were of course the Cretans and other Greek troops whom Hiero had sent as auxiliary contingents on several occasions. But it appears that the first employment of mercenaries on a large scale, after the model of the Carthaginians, took place in Spain on the present occasion. Where the Scipios obtained the means for paying these troops we cannot tell. Perhaps they were not able to pay them punctually, and this fact would alone suffice to explain their faithlessness and desertion.

It was in 212 B.C. that Hasdrubal, the son of Barcas, after the defeat of Syphax, returned to Spain. He found that the Roman generals had divided their forces, and were operating separately in different parts of the country. Their Celtiberian mercenaries had deserted and gone home, tempted, it is said, by their countrymen who served in the Carthaginian army. Thus, weakened by desertion and by the division of their strength, the two Scipios were one after another attacked by Hasdrubal, and so thoroughly routed that hardly a remnant of their army escaped. Publius Cornelius Scipio and his brother Cneius both fell at the head of their troops. A poor remnant was saved, and made good its retreat under the command of a brave officer of equestrian rank, called L. Marcius. But almost the whole of Spain was lost to the Romans at one blow. The war which they had vigorously and successfully carried on for so many years, for the purpose of preventing a second invasion of Italy from Spain, had ended now with the annihilation of almost all their forces, and nothing seemed henceforth able to check the Carthaginian general, if he intended to carry out the plan of his brother.

The disastrous issue of the war in Spain was the more alarming as in the year 212 Hannibal again displayed in Italy an energy which was calculated to remind the Romans of his first three campaigns after he had crossed the Alps in 218. The year 213 had passed almost as quietly as if a truce had been concluded. Hannibal had spent the summer in the country of the Sallentinians, not far from Tarentum, in the hope of taking by surprise or by treason that city, which was of the greatest importance to him from the facilities which it afforded for direct communication with Macedonia. He obtained possession of several small towns in the neighbourhood; but, on the other hand, he lost again Consentia and Taurianum in Bruttium, while a few insignificant places in Lucania were taken by the consul Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus. On this occasion we learn incidentally that Rome allowed at that time, or rather encouraged, a kind of guerilla warfare of volunteers, not unlike privateering in naval wars, which must have contributed largely to brutalize the population. A certain Roman knight and contractor, called T. Pomponius Veientanus, commanded a body of irregulars in Bruttium, pillaging and devastating those communities which had joined the Carthaginian side. He was joined by a large number of runaway slaves, herdsmen, and peasants, and he had formed something like an army, which, without costing the republic anything, did good service in damaging and harassing her enemies. But this mob was not fit to encounter a Carthaginian army, and it was accordingly an easy task for Hanno, who commanded in these parts, to capture or cut to pieces the whole band. Pomponius was taken prisoner, and it was perhaps fortunate for him that he thus escaped the vengeance of his countrymen, whose curses he had richly deserved, not only by his incompetence as an officer, but much more by the rascality with which he, in conjunction with other contractors, had robbed the public and jeopardized the safety of the state.

It now became evident that the apparently self-denying patriotism of which, two years before, several large capitalists had made an ostentatious display, was nothing but a cover for the meanest rapacity, selfishness, and dishonesty. The ungovernable craving for wealth which at all times possessed the great men of Rome, joined with their utter contempt of right—the two great evils which the Gracchi in vain endeavoured to check—show themselves for the first time with great distinctness in the trial of the contractor M. Postumius Pyrgensis and his fellow-conspirators in the beginning of the year 212 B.C.

This Postumius, like the just-mentioned Pomponius, was a member of a joint-stock company, which in 215 had offered to furnish, on credit, the materials of war necessary for the army in Spain, on condition that the government should insure them against sea risks. Since then the pretended patriots had been discovered to be common rogues and villains. They had laden old vessels with worthless articles, had scuttled and abandoned them at sea, and then claimed compensation for the alleged full value. This act was not merely an ordinary fraud on the public purse, but a crime of the gravest nature, inasmuch as it endangered the safety of the army in Spain. Information of it had been given as early as the year 213; but, as Livy assures us, the senate did not venture at once to proceed against the men whose wealth gave them an overpowering influence in the state. Pomponius accordingly remained not only unpunished, but was even appointed to a sort of military command, and allowed to carry on a predatory war on his own account and for his own profit. We can easily understand that men of such reckless audacity and so unprincipled as Pomponius, who commanded bands of armed ruffians, could not easily be punished like common offenders. Yet after Pomponius had fallen into captivity, and his band was annihilated, the government plucked up courage to call his accomplices to account for their misdeeds. Two tribunes of the people, Spurius Carvilius and Lucius Carvilius, impeached Postumius before the assembly of tribes. The people were highly incensed. Nobody ventured to plead in favour of the accused; even the tribune C. Servilius Casca, a relative of Postumius, was kept by fear and shame from interceding. The accused now ventured upon an act which seems almost incredible, and which shows to what an extent, even at the best time of the republic, the internal order and the public peace were at the mercy of any band of desperate villains who ventured to set the law at defiance. The Capitol, where the tribes were just about to give their votes, was invaded by a mob, which created such an uproar that acts of violence would have been committed if the tribunes, yielding to the storm, had not broken up the assembly.

This triumph of lawlessness over the established order of the state was a temporary success which carried the anarchical party beyond their real strength. Rome was not yet so degenerate that a permanent terrorism could be established by the audacity of some rich and influential malefactors. It was rather an outbreak of madness than a deliberate act which prompted Postumius and his accomplices to resist the authority of the Roman people and its lawful magistrates. They were far from forming a political party, or from finding men in the senate or in the popular assembly who would venture to defend or even to excuse them. Their vile frauds were now a small offence compared with their attempt to outrage the majesty of the Roman people. The tribunes dropped the minor charge, and, instead of asking the people to inflict a fine, insisted upon a capital punishment. Postumius forfeited his bail, and escaped from Rome. The punishment of exile was formally pronounced against him, and all his property was confiscated. All participators in the outrage were punished with the same severity, and thus the offended majesty of the Roman people was fully and promptly vindicated.

The villany of the Roman publicani, who abused the necessities of the state to enrich themselves, and whose criminal rapacity endangered the safety of the troops in Spain, is not without parallels in history, and has been equalled or surpassed in modern Europe, as well as in America during the late civil war. We must not, therefore, be too harsh in our judgment, or too sweeping in our condemnation of the Roman people among whom such swindlers could prosper. But we shall do well to remember infamous acts like these, when we hear the fulsome praise often lavished on the civic virtue, the self-denial, and the devotion of the Roman people in the service of the state. The moral and religious elements of the community must have been deeply tainted if, in the very midst of the Hannibalian war, in the agonizing struggle for existence, a great number of men could be found among the influential classes so utterly void of patriotic feeling and conscientiousness, so hardened against public indignation, so careless of just retribution.

Not only public morality, but also the religion of the Romans, felt the injurious effect of the protracted war. It seemed that men gradually lost confidence in their native gods. All the prayers, vows, processions, sacrifices, and offerings, all the festivals and sacred games which bad been celebrated on the direct injunction of the priests, had proved to be of no avail. Either the ancestral gods had forsaken the town, or they were powerless against the decrees of fate. In their despair the people turned towards strange gods. The number of the superstitious was swelled by a mass of impoverished peasants, who had left their wasted fields and burnt homesteads to find support and protection in the capital. The streets swarmed with foreign priests, soothsayers, and religious impostors, who no longer secretly, but openly, carried on their trade, and profited by the fear and ignorance of the multitude. Such a neglect of the national religion was, in the eyes of every community in the ancient world, a kind of treason, which, if tolerated, would have brought about the most fatal consequences. No nation of antiquity rose to the conception of a God common to the human race. Every people, every political society, had its own special protecting deity, distinct from the deity of the next neighbour and hostile to the gods of the national enemy. It was of the utmost importance that all citizens should combine in duly worshipping those powers who, in consideration of uninterrupted worship, vouchsafed to grant their protection, and who were jealous of the admission of foreign rivals. It was therefore a sure sign of national decay if a people began to lose confidence in their own paternal religion, and turned hopefully to the gods of their neighbours. The Roman government began to be alarmed. The senate commissioned the magistrates to interfere. Not the priests or pontifices, who might be expected to be more directly concerned in upholding the purity of religion, but a civil magistrate—the praetor—caused the town to be cleared of all the foreign rituals, prayers, and oracles; and it appears that the people submitted to this interference as to a legitimate exercise of civil authority, just as they submitted to the burdens of the war.

The condemnation of Postumius took place in the beginning of the year 212, about the time of the consular elections, which placed Quintus Fulvius Flaccus and Appius Claudius Pulcher at the head of the government. Great difficulties had now been regularly experienced for some time past in the conscription of recruits for the army. The number of twenty-three legions was, however, completed for the impending campaign, and even this enormous force proved by no means too large. In spite of the taking of Syracuse, the year 212 was destined to be one of the most disastrous for the Romans in the whole course of the war.

The first calamity was the loss of Tarentum, which took S place even before the opening of the campaign. The Romans had been themselves the cause of it through their short-sighted cruelty. A number of hostages of Tarentum and Thurii, detained at Rome, had made an attempt to escape, but were seized at Terracina, brought back to Rome, and tortured to death as traitors. By this act the Romans had themselves cut the bonds which had thus far held the Tarentines in their allegiance. It was a proceeding intended to inspire terror, like the massacre of Enna; but, like this, it produced the opposite effect, by engendering only a feeling of revenge and implacable hatred. A conspiracy was immediately formed at Tarentum for betraying the town to Hannibal. Nikon and Philodemos, the chiefs of the conspirators, under the pretence of going out on hunting expeditions, found means of seeing Hannibal, who still tarried in the neighbourhood of Tarentum; they concluded a formal treaty with him, stipulated that their town should be free and independent, and that the house of no Tarentine citizen should be plundered by the Carthaginian troops. The situation of Tarentum is known from the history of the first war with Rome. On the eastern side of the town, where the narrow peninsula on which it lay was joined to the mainland, a large open, space within the walls formed the public burial-ground. In this lonely place Nikon and some of his fellow-conspirators hid themselves on a night previously fixed upon, and waited for a fire signal, which Hannibal had promised to give as soon as he had reached the neighbourhood. When they saw the signal they fell upon the guards at a gate, cut down the Roman soldiers, and admitted a troop of Gauls and Numidians into the town. At the same moment Philodemos, pretending to return from hunting, presented himself before the postern of another gate, whose guards had been accustomed, for some time past, to open when they heard his whistle. Two men who were with him carried a huge boar. The guard, whilst admiring and feeling the animal, was instantly pierced by the spear of Philodemos. About thirty men were ready outside. They entered by the postern-gate, killed the other guards, opened the main gates, and admitted a whole column of Libyans, who advanced in regular order, under the guidance of the conspirators, towards the market-place. On both points the enterprise had succeeded, and the empty space between the walls and the town was soon filled with Hannibal’s soldiers. The Roman garrison had not received the slightest warning. The commanding officer, M. Livius Macatus, an indolent, self-indulgent man, had been spending the evening in revelry, and was in his bed, overpowered with wine and sleep, when the stillness of the night was broken by the noise of arms and by a strange sound of Roman trumpets. The conspirators had procured some of these trumpets, and, although they blew them very unskillfully, they yet succeeded in drawing the Roman soldiers, who were quartered in all parts of the town, into the streets just as Hannibal was advancing in three columns. Thus a great number of Romans were cut down in the first confusion and disorder, without being able to make any resistance, and almost without knowing what the tumult was all about. A few reached the citadel, and among them was the commander Livius, who at the first alarm had rushed to the harbour and succeeded in jumping into a boat.

When the morning dawned, the whole of Tarentum, with the exception of the citadel, was in Hannibal’s hands. He caused the Tarentines to be called to an assembly, and made known to them that they had nothing to fear for themselves and their families; on the contrary, that he had come to deliver them front the Roman yoke. Only the houses and the property of the Romans were given up to plunder. Every house marked as the property of a citizen of Tarentum was to be spared; but those who made a false statement were threatened with capital punishment. Probably the Romans were quartered in houses of their own, or in houses of men who were partisans of Rome. The latter were now made to suffer for their attachment to Rome, which was a crime in 1he eyes of their political opponents.

The citadel of Tarentum being situated on a hill of small elevation at the western extremity of the tongue of land occupied by the town, could only be taken by a regular siege, and such a siege was hopeless without the cooperation of the fleet. In order, therefore, to secure the town in the meantime from any attacks of the Roman garrison, Hannibal caused a line of defences, consisting of a ditch, mound, and wall, to be made between the citadel and the town. The Romans attempted to interrupt the work. Hannibal encouraged them by a simulated flight of his men, and when he had drawn them far enough into the town, attacked them from all sides, and drove them back into the citadel with great slaughter.

The Roman garrison was now so much reduced that Hannibal hoped to be able to take the citadel by force, and he prepared a regular assault by erecting the necessary machines. But the Romans, reinforced by the garrison of Metapontum, sallied forth in the night, and destroying Hannibal’s siege-works, compelled him to desist from his enterprise. Thus the citadel of Tarentum remained in the possession of the Romans; and as it commanded the entrance to the harbour, the ships of the Tarentines would have been locked up, if Hannibal had not contrived to drag them across the tongue of land on which the town lay, right through the streets running from the inner harbour to the open sea. The Tarentine fleet was now able to blockade the citadel, whilst a wall and ditch closed up the land side. The possession of the citadel was of the greatest importance to both belligerents. The Romans therefore made strenuous efforts to defend it. They dispatched the praetor P. Cornelius with a few ships laden with corn for the supply of the garrison, and Cornelius, evading the vigilance of the blockading squadron, succeeded in reaching his destination. Thus Hannibal’s hope of reducing the fortress by famine was deferred, and the Tarentines could do no more than watch the Roman garrison and keep it in check.

The example of Tarentum was soon followed by Metapontum—from which the Roman garrison had been withdrawn—by Thurii—out of revenge for the murdered hostages—and by Heraclea. Thus the Romans lost by their own fault these Greek towns, which had remained faithful to them for so many years after the battle of Cannae. The only towns that stood out against Carthage were Rhegium and Elea (Telia), with Posidonia or Peestum—which in 263 had become a Roman colony—and Neapolis in Campania. Hannibal had reason to be satisfied with the first results of the campaign of 212. Leaving a small garrison in Tarentum, he now turned northwards.

Three years had passed since Capua had revolted to the Carthaginians. Rome had succeeded in preventing the other larger towns of Campania from following her example. Nola, Neapolis, Cumae, Puteoli had remained faithful and were safe; Casilinum had been retaken; and Capua was hemmed in on all sides, partly by these towns, partly by fortified Roman camps. The time was approaching when the attempt could be made to retake Capua. This was now the principal aim of the Romans in Italy, and the defection of the Greek towns, so far from inducing them to give up this plan, contributed rather to confirm them in it. If Capua could be reconquered and severely punished, they might hope to put an end to all further attempts at revolt on the part of their allies, and they would have destroyed the prestige of Hannibal and the confidence which the Italians might be tempted to place in the power and protection of Carthage.

Since their defection the Capuans had had little cause to approve the bold step which they had taken and to rejoice over the results. If at any time they had really entertained the hope of obtaining the dominion over Italy in the place of Rome, they were soon disabused of so vain a notion. They had not been able even to subject the towns of Campania, or to induce them to enter into the alliance of Carthage, and as, in consequence of their own defection, Campania had become the principal theatre of war, they saw themselves exposed to the unremitting attacks of the Romans. Whenever Hannibal left Campania, the Roman armies approached the town from all sides, returning immediately into their strong positions as soon as Hannibal drew near. Such a war as this, while it drained the resources of the country, and interfered with the regular tillage of the land and the commercial intercourse with her neighbours, could not fail soon to reduce to distress a town whose wealth consisted chiefly in the produce of her fruitful soil. People began to repent the step which they had taken. There had always been a Roman party at Capua. With the continued pressure of the war, which this party had endeavoured to prevent, the split among the Capuan citizens became wider every day. As early as the year 213 we hear of a body of one hundred and twelve Capuan horsemen deserting to the Romans with all their arms and accoutrements. Moreover the three hundred horsemen who had been serving in Sicily at the time of the revolt of their native town, and who were looked upon in the light of hostages, abjured their allegiance to the revolutionary government of Capua, and were admitted as Roman citizens to the full franchise. Even if the Carthaginian garrison was not found irksome and onerous to the people of Capua, it was natural that a revulsion of feeling should take place among them.

In the beginning of the year 212 the Capuans perceived that the Romans were about to draw the net round them. As the populous town was not supplied with provisions to resist a long siege, they sent in all haste to Hannibal, who was at that time in the neighbourhood of Tarentum, and conjured him to come to their aid. In truth Hannibal’s task was not easy. Being stationed at one extremity of the hostile country, and fully occupied in the enterprise against a strong and important city; having to bestow his constant attention to the feeding and recruiting of his army; called upon to defend a number of allies, mere troublesome than useful to him; obliged, moreover, to survey and conduct the whole war in Italy; Spain, and Sicily, to advise the home government, to urge on the tardy resolutions of his ally the king of Macedonia—be was now required to provide for the victualling of Capua. The supplies with which this could be effected be was not able to send for from Africa, and to direct by a safe and easy road to the threatened town. They had to be collected in Italy by violence, or by the good services of exhausted allies; and, being collected, they had to be conveyed by land, on bad and difficult roads, past hostile armies and fortresses.

In spite of all these difficulties, if Hannibal had been able personally to undertake this task, it would have succeeded without any doubt, fur wherever he appeared the Romans slunk back into their hiding-places. But he was not able to leave Tarentum, and therefore intrusted the victualling of Capua to Hanno, who commanded in Bruttium. Hanno too was an able general. He collected the supplies in the neighbourhood of Beneventum, and if the Capuans had equalled him in energy and dispatch, and had furnished means of transport in sufficient quantity and in proper time, the hard problem would have been solved before any Roman force would have had time to interfere. But, owing to the remissness of the Capuans, a delay took place. The Roman colonists of Beneventum informed the consul Q. Fulvius Flaccus, at Bovianum, that large supplies were being brought together near their town. Fulvius hastened to the spot, and, during the temporary absence of Hanno, attacked the camp, filled and encumbered with 2,000 waggons, an immense train of cattle and a great number of drivers and other non-combatants. The whole convoy was taken. We are not informed if Hannibal succeeded afterwards in repairing this loss and in sending the necessary supplies to Capua. But this seems highly probable, as otherwise we could hardly explain the long duration of the siege. Moreover Hannibal himself appeared soon after in Campania, and entered Capua; so that if he brought a new supply of provisions, the Romans at any rate were not able to intercept it a second time. He had sent a body of 2,000 horse in advance, who fell upon and routed the Romans with great loss as they were engaged in ravaging, according to their custom, the neighbourhood of Capua. When Hannibal appeared him­self and offered battle, the two consuls, Fulvius Flaccus and Appius Claudius, instead of proceeding with the siege of Capua, retired hastily, the one to Cumae, the other into Lucania. Capua this time was delivered, and Hannibal was at leisure to turn southwards once more.

Since the campaign of 215 B.C., Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus had, with his army of liberated slaves, commanded in Lucania, and Had been on the whole successful. A portion of the Lucanians had remained faithful to Rome. These and the slave legions carried on a kind of civil war against the revolted Lucanians. The Roman general was now doomed to experience the faithlessness of the Lucanian national character, to which King Alexander of Epirus had fallen a victim. He was drawn into an ambush by a Lucanian of the Roman party, and cut down. His army was dissolved at his death. The slaves, liberated by him, did not consider themselves bound to obey any other leader, and dispersed immediately. The cavalry alone remained, under the quaestor Cn. Cornelius. It seems, however, that some slaves were collected again by the centurion M. Centenius, whom the senate had sent into Lucania with 8,000 men, in order to carry on a war of rapine against the revolted Lucanians, as Pomponius had done in Bruttium. This Centenius had almost doubled his army by collecting volunteers, when unfortunately for him—he encountered Hannibal, and was so utterly defeated in this unequal contest that hardly one thousand of his men escaped.

After this easy victory, Hannibal hastened into Apulia, where the praetor Cneius Fulvius, the consul’s brother, commanded two legions. At Herdonea Fulvius ventured, or was compelled, to offer battle to the dreaded Punian, and paid for his rashness by the loss of his army and camp. Livy reports that no more than 2,000 men escaped out of 18,000. It was a victory which resembled the days of the Trebia, the Thrasymenus, and the Aufidus, and Rome witnessed again such scenes of consternation and terror as had followed those great national disasters.

Thus had Hannibal in the course of the year 212 made himself again terrible to the Romans, in a manner which could hardly be expected after his comparative inactivity during the last three years. He had taken Tarentum, destroyed two Roman armies, and dispersed a third. Apulia and Lucania were cleared of Roman troops; the Greek cities south of Naples, with the exception of Rhegium and Velia, were held by the Carthaginians. The weight of these disasters was increased by the defeat and death of the two Scipios in Spain, and the loss of all the territory and the advantages which had been gained in five campaigns. In Sicily the war continued, even after the fall of Syracuse; and the Carthaginians, or their allies, were in possession of a great portion of the island. Rome was nearly exhausted, and yet the demands made upon the people went on increasing year after year. The government found it more and more difficult to raise money for the public treasury and men for the legions. Nor was it the material resources alone that began to fail. Already many thousands of citizens of the military age had evaded the service, and it had become necessary to proceed against them with the utmost severity and to press them into the legions. The villany of the army purveyors exposed the troops to want and privations. One hope after another seemed to vanish; every resource appeared to fail at last; and not a single great man had as yet appeared, whom the struggling republic might oppose as a worthy antagonist to Hannibal. The Roman generals rose nowhere above mediocrity and not one of them had been inspired by genius to venture beyond the beaten paths of routine.

Nevertheless the Roman people did not despair. They continued the struggle without a thought of yielding, of reconciliation, or of peace. Every sentiment was repressed people, which was not a spar to perseverance and which did not intensify the power of resistance. All the pleasures of life, and all possessions, to which Roman hearts clung so tenaciously, were cheerfully sacrificed for the public weal. The bonds of family, of friendship, of social circles were severed at the call of duty. All thoughts, wishes, and actions of the nation tended to one common end—the overthrow of the national enemy; and it was this unanimity, this perseverance, which secured a final triumph.

No sooner had Hannibal left Campania, and marched southwards, than the Roman armies returned to their former position before Capua. The two consuls, Appius Claudius Pulcher and Q. Fulvius Flaccus, each with two legions, and the praetor C. Claudius Nero, with an equal force, advanced from three different points towards the doomed town, and began to surround it with a double line of circumvallation, consisting each of a continuous ditch and mound. The inner and smaller circle was intended to keep the besieged within their walls; the outer line was a defence against any army that might come to the relief of the town. In the space between the two concentric circles, camps were erected for an army of 60,000 men. It was not the intention of the Romans to take the town by storm. They relied on the slow but sure effects of hunger, which, in spite of any amount of collected provisions, could not fail to make itself soon felt in a populous town completely cut off from without. The wants of the besieging army were amply provided for. The chief magazine was established in the important town of Casilinum on the Volturnus. At the mouth of this river a fort bad been erected, and to this place, as well as to the neighbouring town of Puteoli, provisions were sent by sea from Etruria and Sardinia, to be forwarded on the Volturnus to Casilinum. The several towns of Campania in the possession of the Romans served as outposts and defences to the besieging army, while the communication with Rome was open by the Appian as well as by the Latin road.

For a time the Capuans endeavoured to interrupt the work of circumvallation by desperate sallies. The narrow space of a few thousand paces between the walls of the town and the Roman lines became the theatre of numerous engagements, in which, above all, the excellent Capuan cavalry maintained its reputation. But the girdle around the town became from day to day firmer, and the besieged began anxiously to look out upon the heights of the hill of Tifata, where Hannibal had repeatedly pitched his camp, and whence he had but recently pounced upon the Romans, to scatter them in all directions. But Hannibal did not come. After the destruction of the army of M. Centenius in Lucania, and of Cn. Fulvius in Apulia, he had quickly marched upon Tarentum in the hope of surprising the citadel, and, baffled in this enterprise, he had turned, in the same hope, to Brundusium. Here also be found the Roman garrison warned and prepared, and he now led his overworked troops into winter-quarters. To the Capuans he sent word not to lose courage, promising that he would come to their rescue in the right season, and put an end to the siege as he had done once before.

But this time the danger was more serious, and the Romans felt sure of final success. The lines of circumvallation were drawn nearly all round Capua. Before they were quite complete the Roman senate made a last offer to the besieged, promising personal freedom and the preservation of all their property to those who should leave the town before the Ides of March (at that period about mid-winter). The Capuans rejected this offer contemptuously. They were confident of the help that Hannibal had promised; their strength was sufficient to withstand any attack, and the town was apparently well supplied with provisions. There were of course friends of peace and friends of the Romans in Capua, but we can easily understand that they could hardly venture, under the present circumstances, to make their wishes known, and thus to incur the suspicion of cowardice or treason. The government was in the hands of the democratic party, hostile to Rome, and it was supported in its policy of unwavering resistance by the Carthaginian garrison. A man of low birth, called Seppius Loesius, discharged the chief office of Meddix Tuticus, and it is probable that the condition of Capua was much like that of Syracuse during the Roman siege. The men in possession of the government were too much compromised to hope for safety from any reconciliation with Rome; they had staked their lives on the great game, and were determined to persevere to the last.

Meanwhile the consuls of the year 211, Cn. Fulvius Centumalus and P. Sulpicius Galba, had entered on their office. They were apparently men of no great consideration, and the consuls of the previous year were left as proconsuls in command of the army before Capua, with instructions not to withdraw from the siege until they had taken the place. After the fall of Syracuse, the Romans justly looked upon the reduction of Capua as the most important object to be attained in Italy. The period when Capua would fall could be calculated with tolerable accuracy. It was determined by the quantity of provisions which the besieged had had time to accumulate before they were entirely cut off from external supplies. Yet there was one hope left. An agile Numidian succeeded in making his way through both Roman lines, and in informing Hannibal of the serious danger in which the town was now placed. Hannibal immediately broke up from the extreme south, with a body of light troops and thirty-three elephants, and advanced by forced marches into Campania. Having stormed at Galatia one of the outer posts which the Romans had erected all round Capua, he encamped behind the ridge of Mount Tifata, and immediately directed a brisk attack against the outer Roman lines, whilst simultaneously the Capuans made a sally and tried to force the inner circumvallation. A Spanish cohort had already scaled the mound, some elephants had been killed, their bodies filled up the ditch and formed a bridge over it, others had penetrated into one of the Roman camps, and had spread terror and confusion. But the Roman forces were so numerous that they were able to keep their ground, and to repel the enemy on both sides. Hannibal was obliged to give up the plan of raising the blockade of Capua by a direct attack on the Roman lines. He at once changed his plan. Whilst the Romans were preparing to meet a second attack, he left his camp at nightfall, gave information to the Capuans of his intention, encouraged them to persevere, and set himself in motion towards Rome.

No event in all the wars since the Gallic conflagration produced a deeper impression on the excitable masses of the capital than the appearance of the dreaded Carthaginian before its walls. The most disastrous defeats and the most glorious victories at a distance from Rome could not work upon fear and hope in a manner so direct and powerful as the sight of a hostile camp before their eyes. The terrible words “Hannibal at the gates!” never vanished from the memory of the Romans; and the fear and anguish with which these words were first beard enhanced the satisfaction which was felt when, by the firmness of the senate and the Roman people, the danger was overcome. For this reason the imagination of narrators was particularly fertile in adorning the story of Hannibal’s march to Rome in a manner flattering to the national pride. There arose a number of stories, some altogether fictitious, others suggested by mistakes : and it is consequently impossible for us to harmonise into a consistent narrative the statements of the two principal witnesses, Polybius and Livy, which differ in some essential points. We are compelled to make a selection; and as it appears that the report of Livy, though not free from errors, is, on the whole, more in harmony with the general course of events than that of Polybius, we give the preference to it on this occasion.

For five days Hannibal had lingered before Capua, trying in vain to raise the siege. In the night following the fifth day he crossed the Volturnus in boats, and marched past the Roman colony of Cales by Teanum on the Latin road to the valley of the Liris, in the direction of Interamna and Fregellae. All these towns were held by Roman garrisons, and Hannibal could not think of laying siege to them. Nevertheless he felt so safe in the midst of the hostile fortresses, with an army of 60,000 men in his rear and Rome itself before him, that he leisurely plundered the districts through which he inarched, tarried a whole day near Teanum, remained two days at Casilinum and then at Fregellae, and thus gave time to the Roman army before Capua either to overtake him or to precede him to Rome by the direct road. The former alternative he would probably have preferred, for he sought above all things to bring on a battle, and it was for this reason that he devastated the country without mercy. But the Romans steadily adhered to their plan of avoiding a battle, and allowed him to advance unmolested. From Fregellae Hannibal marched further north, through the country of the Hernicans, by Frusino, Ferentinum, and Anagnia, and between Tibur and Tusculum reached the river Anio, which he crossed in order to pitch his camp in sight of Rome, and to announce his arrival by the conflagration of the surrounding farms and villages.

Terror and dismay had preceded him. The fugitives, who had with difficulty escaped the fast Numidian horse­men, and had poured into Rome in vast crowds to find shelter for themselves, their property, and their cattle, spread heart-rending reports of the cruelties committed by the savage Punians. The rich, well-tilled country about Rome, which since the days of King Pyrrhus had seen no enemy, was now the prey of war. He had arrived at last, this dreaded Hannibal, before whose sword the sons of Rome had fallen fast and thick as the ears of corn before the mower’s scythe. The irresistible conqueror, whom no Roman general ventured to encounter, who but a very short time before had annihilated two Roman armies, had now arrived to accomplish his work, to raze the city of Rome to the ground, to murder the men, and to carry away the women and children into slavery far beyond the sea. The city was tilled with a tumult and a confusion that were uncontrollable. Seeing a troop of Numidian deserters pass down from the Aventine, the people, demented with fright, thought the enemy was already in the city. Maddened with despair, they thought of nothing but flight, and would have rushed out of the gates if the dread of encountering the hostile cavalry had not kept them back. The women filled all the sanctuaries, poured out their prayers and lamentations, and on their knees swept the ground with their dishevelled hair.

Yet Rome was not unprepared. Hannibal’s intention of marching upon Rome had been made known by deserters even before he broke up from Capua, and even without such indirect or casual information his march could not long remain a secret. When the news arrived, the first thought of the senate was, as Hannibal had anticipated, to withdraw the whole army forthwith from Capua for the protection of the capital. But on the advice of the cautious T. Valerius Flaccus, it was resolved to order only a portion of the legions under Fulvius to come to Rome, and to continue the blockade of Capua, with the rest. Fulvius therefore broke up with only 16,000 men, and hastened to Rome by the Appian road, arming either simultaneously with Hannibal or a very short time after him. As proconsul he could not have a military command in the city of Rome. A decree of the senate, therefore, conferred upon him a command equal to that of the consuls of the year, and provided for the defence of the city. The senate remained assembled on the Forum; all those who bad in former years discharged the office of dictator, consul, or censor were invested with the imperium for the duration of the present crisis. A garrison, under the command of the praetor C. Calpurnius, occupied the Capitol, and the consuls encamped outside the town towards the north­east, between the Colline and the Esquiline gates. The two newly raised legions, which happened to be in Borne, joined to the army of the proconsul, were strong enough to baffle any attempt of Hannibal to take the town by storm. Accordingly Hannibal never ventured to make an attack. He approached the city with a few thousand Numidians, and leisurely rode along the walls, eagerly watched, but undisturbed by the awe-struck garrison. It was a triumphal procession, and Hannibal may have felt legitimate pride in the thought that he had so far humbled his enemies. But when he reflected that Rome, though humbled, was still unconquered, all premature exultation must have been suppressed, while his eye was fixed anxiously on the dark future. So far he had realized his own and his country’s ardent wishes. With the devastation of Italy and the blood of her sons, Rome bad atoned for the wrong which she had done to Carthage; but the spirit of the Roman people was unsubdued, and it stood even this severe test without despairing or even doubting of ultimate success.

No battle was fought before Rome, as the Romans did not accept Hannibal’s challenge. It could not be unknown to Hannibal that a part at least of the blockading army of Capua had been withdrawn, and was now opposed to him. Perhaps he hoped that his plan had succeeded. It he could draw the Romans from their fortified position under the walls of Rome, and beat them, and then return to Capua, it was possible that the Capuans, if they had not yet broken through the Roman lines, would now, in conjunction with his army, repeat a combined attack upon the Roman forces left to continue the blockade, and it was not likely that this time such an attack would fail. In a few days, therefore, he left the immediate neighbourhood of Rome, marching in a north-easterly direction into the country of the Sabines, then to the south-east through the land of the Marsians and Pelignians, to return to Campania by a circuitous route. He marked his road with flames and devastation. The Roman consuls, as he had expected, followed him, trying in vain to protect the land of their most faithful allies. After a march of five days, Hannibal was informed that the Romans had not relinquished the blockade of Capua, and that only a portion of their army had left Campania. Suddenly he turned round upon the pursuing Romans, attacked them in the night, stormed their camp, and routed them completely. But his plan was nevertheless thwarted. He found out, like Pyrrhus, that he was fighting with the Hydra; the Roman lines round Capua were sufficiently defended; and seeing that there was no prospect of success if he attempted to storm them, he turned aside and left Capua to her fate. By forced marches he hastened through southern Italy, and appeared unexpectedly before Rhegium. But he was foiled in the attempt to surprise this town, and the only result gained was an abundance of booty and prisoners, which rewarded his soldiers for the unusual fatigues they had undergone.

The fate of Capua was now sealed. The besieged made one more attempt to call Hannibal to their rescue; but the Numidian who had undertaken to deliver the dangerous message was discovered in the Roman camp, and driven back into the town with his hands cut off. The leaders of the revolt now foresaw what they would have to expect. After the Capuan senate had formally resolved to surrender the town, about thirty of the noblest senators assembled in the house of Vibius Virrius for a last solemn banquet, and took farewell of one another, resolved not to survive the ruin of their country. They all swallowed poison and lay down to die. When the gates were thrown open to admit the victorious army, they were beyond the reach of Roman revenge. The other senators of Capua relied on the generosity of Rome. It is probable that all who were conscious of guilt had sought death, and that the survivors were not directly implicated in causing the defection of Capua. In all such revolutions there is a wide difference between leaders and followers. No doubt many of the latter had no choice but to swim with the stream, and among them there must have been many parents or relatives of the young Capuan knights who had either taken no part at all in the revolt, or had gone over to the Romans in the course of the war. Such men were justified in hoping for mercy. But Q. Fulvius thirsted for blood, and Roman policy demanded a terrific example. The Capuan senators were therefore sent in chains partly to Cales, partly to Teanum. In the course of the night, Fulvius broke up with a detachment of cavalry and reached Teanum before dawn. He caused twenty-eight prisoners to be scourged and beheaded before his eyes. Without delay he hastened to Cales, and ordered twenty-five more to be put to death. The awful rapidity with which he went through the work of the executioner, without even the shadow of discrimination or trial, shows that his heart was in it. It is said that, before he had done, he received a sealed letter from Rome, which contained an order from the senate to postpone the punishment of the guilty, and to allow the senate to pronounce their sentence. Guessing the contents of the letter, Fulvius left it unopened until all his victims were dead. If this report is true, and if the Roman senate really intended to act with clemency, they still had ample opportunity, even after the hot haste with which Fulvius had slaked his thirst for revenge. But as the Roman senate, far from exhibiting a spirit of clemency, continued to treat prostrate Capua with exquisite harshness and cruelty, we feel it difficult to credit the report.

That Flaccus had carried out the intention of the Roman government is clear from the treatment of the two small Campanian towns, Atella and Calatia, which had revolted, and were now reduced at the same time as Capua. The leading men of these two places were put to death. Three hundred of the chief citizens of Capua, Galatia, and Atella were dragged to Rome, cast into prison, and left to die of starvation; others were distributed as prisoners over the Latin towns, where they all perished in a similar manner. The rest of the guilty, i.e. those who had themselves borne arms against Rome, or whose relations had so done, or who had discharged any public office since the breaking out of the revolt, were sold as slaves, with their wives and children. Those who were not guilty, i.e. those who at the time of the revolt had not been in Campania, or who had gone over to the Romans, or who had taken no active part in the insurrection, lost only their land and part of their movable property, but were left in the enjoyment of personal freedom, and received permission to settle within certain limits away from Campania. The towns of Capua, Atella, and Calatia, and the whole district belonging to them, became the property of the Roman people. The right of municipal self-government was withdrawn, and a prefect, annually sent from Rome, was intrusted with the administration of the district, which, instead of a free community, contained henceforth only a motley population of workmen, farmers of the public land and of the revenue, tradesmen, and other adventurers—a population destitute of all those hallowed associations and feelings of attachment to the soil which to the people of antiquity were the basis of patriotism and all civic virtues. The flourishing city of Capua, once the rival of Rome, was blotted out from among the list of Italian towns, and was henceforth let out by the Roman people ‘like to a tenement or pelting farm’. We cannot, of course, expect to find among the men that fought against Hannibal that chivalrous spirit and generosity which in general characterize modern warfare. To what extent they acted in the spirit of their contemporaries we can judge most clearly from the manner in which the tender-hearted, humane Livy, two centuries later, spoke of their proceedings. He calls them in every respect laudable. “Severely and quickly”, he says, “the most guilty were punished; the lower classes of the people were dispersed without the hope of return; the innocent buildings and walls were preserved from fire and destruction; and, by the preservation of the most beautiful town of Campania, the feelings of the neighbouring peoples were spared, whilst at the same time the interests of the Roman people were consulted”.

The final decision of the fate of Capua, which we have here related, did not follow immediately after the burned punishment of those who were principally guilty. It was postponed to the year following, and by a decision of the popular assembly intrusted to the senate. Meanwhile Capua was occupied by a Roman garrison and strictly guarded. No one was allowed to leave the town without permission. Yet there were some Campanians at Rome; perhaps the three hundred who at the time of the revolt were serving as horsemen with the Roman legions in Sicily, and who, as a reward for their fidelity, had been received as Roman citizens. These unfortunate men also were now doomed to experience the adverse fate which seemed inexorably bent on destroying the people of Capua. It happened that a conflagration broke out in Rome, which raged for a whole night and day, destroyed a number of shops and other buildings—among them the ancient palace of Numa, the official residence of the chief pontiff--and which even threatened the adjoining temple of Vesta. The style of building then prevalent at Rome, the narrow streets, and the absence of fire-police and engines, rendered such a calamity no matter for surprise. But the imminent danger which had threatened one of the principal sanctuaries of Rome—a sanctuary on whose preservation the safety of the city depended—spread general consternation, and suggested the idea that the fire was not accidental, but caused by some bitter enemy of the commonwealth. By order of the senate, the consul accordingly issued a proclamation, promising a public reward to anyone who would point out the men guilty of the supposed crime. By this proclamation a premium was offered to any villain who might succeed in concocting the story of a plot plausible enough to be credited by the excited populace. An informer was soon found. A slave of some young Campanians, the sons of Pacuvius Calavius, declared that his masters and five other young Capuans, whose fathers had been put to death by Q. Fulvius, had conspired, out of revenge, to set Rome on fire. The unfortunate young men were seized. Their slaves were tortured to confess that they had caused the fire by order of their masters. This confession under torture, the eternal disgrace of the Roman law procedure, established the guilt of the Capuans to the satisfaction of their judges, and the men were all executed, whilst the informer received his freedom as a reward.

It is not absolutely necessary to assume that this revolting sentence of death was inspired by hatred of the conquered Capuans. The Romans, in their savage ignorance, raged not less fiercely against themselves, and had given a proof of this as late as 331 B.C., by the execution of one hundred and seventy innocent matrons. But the prevailing hatred of Capua caused the story of the wretched informer to be received with ready credulity, just as the English nation, besotted with terror at the time of the Popish plot, greedily swallowed any lies which villains like Oates and Dangerfield were pleased to concoct. The cruel sentence pronounced on the young Capuans in Rome was a worthy introduction to the decrees of the senate, which blotted out the old rival for ever. It was a consequence of the municipal constitution of the republic that Rome could not brook another great town besides herself. This was the reason why, even in the legendary period, Alba Longa was crushed, and at a subsequent period Veii was doomed to destruction. It was now the turn of Capua to sink into the dust; and no long period elapsed before that other rival city followed which was now struggling desperately with Rome, under the thorough conviction that she must either conquer or perish. Wherever the republican armies planted their iron foot, they stamped out the life of all towns which might enter into competition with Rome. It was not before Rome itself had bowed her proud head under an imperial master that municipal prosperity returned to the great centres of art, learning, and commerce in the subjected countries.

Fifth Period of the Hannibalian War.

FROM THE FALL OF CAPUA TO THE BATTLE ON THE METAURUS, 211-207 B.C.

The reconquest of Capua marks the turning-point in the second Punic war. From the time when Hannibal had crossed the Alps to the battle of Cannae the destructive waves which had inundated Italy had risen higher and higher, had borne down one obstacle after another, and had threatened to engulf the whole fabric of Roman dominion. After the day of Cannae the waters spread far and wide over Italy; but they rose no higher. Most of the Roman allies, and these the most valuable, resisted the impulse to revolt, which carried along the Capuans to their own destruction. The colonies and Rome herself remained firm; and now at length, after a seven years’ struggle, a decided turn of the tide took place. Rome had passed through the worst; her safety was secured, and even her dominion over Italy seemed no longer exposed to any serious danger. Henceforth she could continue the war with full confidence in a final triumph.

The first fruit of the victory in Campania was the restoration of Roman superiority in Spain, which had been lost by the reverses and the death of the two Scipios. Spain was justly looked upon as an outlying fortress of Carthage, whence a second attack on Italy might at any time be expected. To prevent such an attack had hitherto been the principal object of the Roman generals in Spain. In the gloomy period after the battle of Cannae the two Scipios had succeeded in accomplishing this task by the victory over Hasdrubal at Ibera; and it is perhaps no exaggeration to say that by it they had saved Rome from destruction. When the Carthaginians had recovered from their defeat at Ibera, and had victoriously ended the war with the Numidians in Africa, they had resumed the war in Spain with new vigour, and the consequence was the almost total destruction of the Roman armies in Spain. It was, for Rome, a most lucky coincidence that at this critical season a part of the forces that had besieged Capua became disposable for other purposes. C. Claudius Nero was accordingly summoned from Campania, and in the course of the same summer (211 B.C.) sent, with about two legions, to Spain, to rally the remnants of the Scipionic army, and to incorporate them with his own. Nero succeeded not only in effectually defending the country between the Pyrenees and the Ebro, but he is said even to have undertaken an expedition far into the Carthaginian possessions, and to have so far outmanoeuvred Hasdrubal that he might have made him prisoner with his whole army if he had not been duped by the wily Carthaginian. This statement appears to deserve no more credit than the pretended exploits of Marcius. The situation of the Romans in Spain, even in the following year (210 B.C.), was very critical, and it was resolved in Rome to send thither an additional force of 11,000 men. The command of this reinforcement was intrusted to Publius Cornelius Scipio, a young man only twenty-seven years of age, who had as yet discharged but one public office, viz. that of aedile, and had never before had any independent military command, but who was destined to rise suddenly into distinction, and finally to triumph over Hannibal himself.

Publius Cornelius Scipio was the son of Lucius Cornelius Scipio, and nephew of Publius Cornelius Scipio, the two brothers who had fought and fallen in Spain. His appearance on the stage of history is marked by a series of events which are startling and somewhat mysterious in their character, and calculated to challenge serious doubts. It does not at all appear that, as regards external attestation, the history of Scipio's exploits stands on a higher level than that of the preceding events. And yet we know that Polybius—the most intelligent, sober, and conscientious investigator of facts in the history of Rome—had close and intimate relations with the house of the Scipios, and that he drew his information directly from C. Laelius, the friend and associate of Scipio himself. But we find, both in Polybius and Livy, statements regarding Scipio which remind us of the time when the Roman annals were full of random assertions, errors, exaggerations, and impudent fictions. We are therefore obliged to sift with particular care all those accounts which refer to Scipio’s character, to his military exploits, and the political transactions in which he took a part.

For some generations the family of the Scipios had belonged to the most prominent of the republic. Since the time of the Samnite wars they were almost regularly in possession of one or other of the great offices of state. Their family pride was intense, and has left lasting monuments in the epitaphs which have come down to us. It is evident that their influence among the noble families of Rome was very considerable. Cneius Scipio Asina, who, in the fifth year of the Sicilian war, had, by his want of judgment, caused the loss of a Roman squadron, and had himself been made prisoner of war, was, in the course of the same war, again appointed to high office. In the Hannibalian war, the influence of this family had risen so greatly that the conduct of the war in Spain was, year after year, confided to the two brothers Publius and Cneius Scipio, in a manner altogether at variance with the regular practice of the republic. The Scipios disposed, in Spain, of the armies and the resources of the Roman people as if they were the uncontrolled masters, and not the servants, of the state; and they conducted the administration of the province, and the diplomatic relations with the Spanish tribes, as they thought proper. It seemed that the senate had intrusted the management of the Spanish war entirely to the family of the Scipios, as in the legendary period the war with the Veientines was made over as a family war to the Fabii. Their command was cut short only by their death, and it was now transferred to the son of one of them, as if it was hereditary in the family. The manner, too, in which this was done was strange in itself, and had on no occasion been known before. Such men as Pomponius and Centenius, it is true, had in the course of the war been intrusted with the command of detachments of troops, without having ever previously discharged any of the offices to which the ‘Imperium’ was attached. But the troops of these officers were wholly, or for the most part, volunteers and irregulars, and they were bent more on plundering and harassing the revolted allies of Rome than on fighting the Carthaginians. On the other hand, the supreme command of the Roman legions in Spain was a matter of the greatest importance. The senate had not allowed the brave L. Marcius to retain the command of the remnants of the Spanish army, though it was due to him that any portion of it was saved. Nor was it the want of able generals, such as the Romans could boast of, that made it absolutely necessary to place at the post of danger an inexperienced young man, who had not yet given proofs of his ability. C. Claudius Nero, who had rendered good service during the siege of Capua, and who afterwards proved himself a master of strategy in the campaign against Hasdrubal, had already been sent to Spain. There was no reason why he should not be left there, and if there had been an objection to him, there were other tried officers in abundance, fit to take the command. The eulogists of Scipio related a silly story, viz., that nobody came forward to volunteer his services for the dangerous post in Spain, and that Scipio, by boldly declaring his readiness to undertake the command, inspired the people with admiration and confidence, and in a manner compelled them to give the appointment to him. The Roman republic would indeed have been in a deplorable condition, if cowardice had restrained even one man capable of command from dedicating his services to the state in a post of danger. It was not so. The appointment of Scipio was due to the position and influence of his family. It was one of the irregularities caused by the war, and a long time elapsed before proconsular command was again conferred on a man who had not previously been consul.

Scipio was, however, a man far above the average of his contemporaries, and there was in him greatness of mind, which could not fail to rivet general attention. His character was not altogether of the ancient Roman type. There was in it an element which displeased men of the old school, and which, on the other hand, gained for him the admiration and esteem of the people. His bearing was proud, his manners reserved. From his youth his mind was open to poetical and religious impressions. He believed, or pretended, that he was inspired; but his keen understanding kept this germ of fanaticism within the bounds of practical usefulness to his political purposes. Whether the piety that he displayed ostentatiously, his visions and communions with the deity, were the results of honest conviction, as his contemporaries believed, or whether they were merely political manoeuvres, as Polybius thought, intended to deceive the populace and to serve his political ends, we can hardly decide with any degree of certainty, as no genuine speeches or writings of his are preserved, which might have revealed the true nature of his mind. But whatever we may think of the genuineness of his enthusiasm, it appears un-Roman in any light. His imaginative mind was powerfully affected by the creations of Greek poetry. It is not incredible that he may himself have believed stories like that of his descent from a god. If he did, he will stand higher in our esteem than if we look upon him as a clever impostor.

In the autumn of the year 210, Scipio sailed from the Tiber under a convoy of thirty ships of war, with 10,000 foot and 1,000 horse. The second in command under him was the propraetor, M. Junius Silanus; the fleet was under the orders of C. Laelius, Scipio’s intimate friend and admirer. As usual the fleet sailed along the coast of Etruria, Liguria, and Gaul, instead of striking straight across the Tyrrhenian Sea. In Emporiae, a trading settlement of the Massilians, the troops were disembarked. Thence Scipio marched by land to Tarraco, the chief town of the Roman province, where he spent the winter in preparation for the coming campaign.

The plan of this campaign was made by Scipio with the utmost secrecy, and was communicated to his friend Laelius alone. He had received information that the three Carthaginian armies, commanded by Mago and the two Hasdrubals, were stationed at great distances from one another and from New Carthage. This important place was intrusted to the insufficient protection of a garrison of only one thousand men. Thus an opportunity was offered of seizing by a bold stroke the military capital of the Punians in Spain, whose excellent harbour was indispensable to their fleet, and where they had their magazines, arsenal, storehouses, dockyards, their military chest, and the hostages of many Spanish tribes. The preparations for this expedition were made with the greatest secrecy. The very unlikelihood of an attack had lulled the Carthaginian generals into a criminal security, and compromised the safety of the town. If New Carthage were able to hold out only a few days, or if Hasdrubal, who was at a distance of ten days’ march, had the least suspicion of Scipio’s plan, it had no chance of success. It was bold and ingenious, and is so much more creditable to its author as the sad fate of his father and uncle might have been expected to make him lean rather to the side of caution and timidity than of daring enterprise.

In the first days of spring (209 B.C.) Scipio broke up with his land army of 25,000 infantry and 2,500 horse, and marched from Tarraco along the coast southward, whilst Laelius, with a fleet of thirty-five vessels, kept constantly in sight. Arriving unexpectedly before New Carthage, the united force immediately laid siege to the town by land and sea. New Carthage lay at the northern extremity of a spacious bay, which opened southwards, and whose mouth was protected by an island as by a natural breakwater, so that inside of it ships could ride in perfect safety. Under the walls of the town on its western side, a narrow strip of land was covered by shallow water, a continuation of the bay; and this sheet of water extended some way northwards, leaving only a sort of isthmus, of inconsiderable width, which connected the town with the mainland and was fortified by high walls and towers. New Carthage had therefore almost an insular position, and was very well fortified by nature and art. But it had a weak side, and this had been betrayed by fishermen to the Roman general. During ebb tide the water of the shallow pool west of the town fell so much that it was fordable, and the bottom was firm. On this information Scipio laid his plan, and, in the expectation that he would be able to reach from the water an undefended part of the wall, he promised to his soldiers the cooperation of Neptune. But first he drew off the attention of the garrison to the northern side of the town. He began by making a double ditch and mound from the sea to the bay, in order to be covered in the rear against attacks from the Punic army in case the siege should be postponed and Hasdrubal should advance to relieve the town. Then having easily beaten off the garrison, which had made a foolhardy attempt to dislodge him, he immediately attacked the walls. Having an immense superiority of numbers, the Romans might hope by relieving one another to tire out the garrison. They tried to scale the walls with ladders, but met with so stout a resistance that after a few hours Scipio gave the signal to desist. The Carthaginians thought the assault was given up, and hoped to be able to repose from their exertions. But towards evening, when the ebb tide had set in, the attack was renewed with double violence. Again the Romans assailed the walls and applied their ladders on all parts. Whilst the attention of the besieged was thus turned to the northern side, which they thought was exclusively endangered by the second attack, as by the first, a detachment of five hundred Romans forded the shallow water on the west, and reached the wall without being perceived. They quickly scaled it, and opened the nearest gate from the inside. Neptune had led the Romans through his own element to victory. New Carthage, the key of Spain, the basis of the operations against Italy, was taken, and the issue of the Spanish war was determined.

On the occasion of the taking of New Carthage, Polybius relates the Roman custom observed in the plundering of a town taken by storm. He tells us that for a time the soldiers used to cut down every living creature they met, not men only, but even brute animals. When this butchery had lasted as long as the commander thought proper, a signal was given to call the soldiers back from it, and then the plundering began. Only a portion of the army, never more than one-half, was allowed to plunder, lest during the inevitable disorder the safety of the whole might be compromised. But the men selected for plundering a town were not allowed to keep anything for themselves. They were obliged to give up what they had taken, and the booty was equally distributed among all the troops, including even the sick and wounded.

The commanding general had a right of disposing of the whole of the booty as he deemed proper. He could, if he liked, reserve the whole, or a part of it, for the public treasury. If he did so, he made himself of course obnoxious, like Camillus in the old legend, to the soldiers; and it seems that, in the time of the Punic wars, it was the general practice to leave the booty to the troops. Only a portion of it—more especially the military chest, magazines, materials of war, works of art, and captives—was taken possession of by the quaestor for the benefit of the state. The rest was given to the soldiers, and served as a compensation and reward for the dangers and hardships of the service, which were very inadequately rewarded by the military pay.

The booty made at New Carthage was very considerable. This town had been the principal military storehouse of the Carthaginians in Spain, and contained hundreds of ballista, catapults, and other engines of war with projectiles, large sums of money, and quantities of gold and silver, eighteen ships, besides materials for building and equipping ships. The prisoners were of especial value. The garrison, it is true, was not numerous, and had no doubt been reduced by the fight; but among the prisoners was Hanno, the commander, two members of the smaller Carthaginian council or executive board, and fifteen of the senate, who represented the Carthaginian government in the field. All these were sent to Rome. The inhabitants of the town who had escaped the massacre, 10,000 in number, as it is stated, might have been sold as slaves, according to the ancient right of war, but were allowed by Scipio to retain their liberty; several thousand skilled workmen, who had been employed in the dockyards and arsenals, as ship-carpenters, armourers, or otherwise, were kept in the same capacity, and were promised their freedom if they served the republic faithfully and effectually. The strongest of the prisoners Scipio mixed up with the crews of his fleet, and was thus enabled to man the eighteen captured vessels. These men also received the promise that, if they conducted themselves well, they should receive their freedom at the end of the war. But the most precious part of the booty consisted of the hostages of several Spanish tribes, who had been kept in custody in New Carthage. Scipio hoped by their means to gain the friendship of those subjects or allies of Carthage for whose fidelity they were to be a pledge. He treated them therefore with the greatest kindness, and told them that their fate depended entirely on the conduct of their countrymen, and that he would send them all home if he could be assured of the good disposition of the Spanish peoples.

The narrative of the conquest of New Carthage is adorned with some anecdotes, the object of which is to extol the generosity, the delicacy of feeling, and the self-control of the great Scipio. According to one of these stories, there was among the hostages a venerable matron, the wife of the Spanish chief Mandonius, the brother of Indibilis, king of the Ilergetes, and several of the youthful daughters of the latter. These ladies had been treated with indignity by the Carthaginians, but the sense of female modesty at first kept the noble matron from expressing in distinct words her wish that the Romans would treat them more as became their rank, age, and sex. Scipio, with fine discrimination, guessed what she hardly ventured to pray for, and granted the request.

Again, when his soldiers, bringing to him a Spanish lady, remarkable for her dazzling beauty, desired him to take her as a prize worthy of himself alone, he caused the damsel to be restored to her father, subduing a passion which had often triumphed over the greatest heroes, and from which he himself was by no means exempt. This story, related in its credible simplicity by Polybius, was further enlarged and adorned by Livy, who speaks of the lady as the betrothed of a powerful Spanish prince, to whom Scipio, like the hero in a play, restores her unharmed, with all the pathos of conscious virtue and youthful enthusiasm. The rich presents which her parents had brought for her ransom Scipio gives to the happy bridegroom, as an addition to her dowry. The Spaniard reveres Scipio like a god, and finally joins the Roman army as a faithful ally, at the head of a picked body of 1,400 horse. If we compare the simple story of Polybius with the little novel into which it is worked up by Livy, we may in some measure understand how many stories were expanded by a natural process of gradual growth and development. The characteristics of fiction are often unmistakable, but it is not often possible to lay them bare by documentary evidence. If our sources could be traced even beyond Polybius, we should perhaps find that the whole story of Scipio's generosity towards captured ladies emanates from the desire of comparing him with Alexander the Great, who in a similar manner treated the family of Darius after the battle of Issos.

In the narrative of the great Hannibalian war, which was carried on simultaneously in so many different parts, we cannot sometimes avoid shifting the scenes suddenly, and turning our attention away from events before they have reached a sort of natural conclusion. The taking of New Carthage determined the fate of the Carthaginian dominion in Spain, which now rested on the distant town of Gades alone; but before we can trace the sequel of events which led to the total expulsion of the Carthaginians, we must watch the progress of the war in Italy, where, as long as Hannibal commanded an unconquered Punic army, the Romans had still most to fear and the Carthaginians to hope.

The re-conquest of Capua in 211 B.C. was by far the most decisive success which the Roman arms had gained in the whole course of the war. With Capua Hannibal lost the most beautiful fruit of his greatest victory. He had now no longer any stronghold in Campania, and was in consequence obliged to retire into the southern parts of the peninsula. It became more and more difficult for him to maintain the Italian towns that had joined him. The Italians had lost confidence in his star. Everywhere the adherents of Rome gained ground, and the temptation became greater to purchase her forgiveness by a timely return to obedience, coupled, if possible, with a betrayal of the Punic garrisons.

Thus Hannibal’s ingenious plan of overpowering Rome with the aid of her allies had failed. How could he now hope, after the fall and dreadful punishment of Capua, to win over the smaller Italian towns which had hitherto remained faithful to Rome? Those who had previously rebelled he could protect only by strong detachments of his army from internal treason and from the attacks of enemies without. But he could not spare the men necessary for such a service, and he did not like to expose his best troops to the danger of being betrayed and cut off in detail. It seemed, therefore, advisable rather to give up untenable towns voluntarily than to risk the safety of valuable troops in their defence.

The necessity of such measures became apparent by the treason which in the year 210 delivered Salapia into the hands of the Romans. Salapia, one of the larger towns of Apulia, had joined the cause of Hannibal soon after the battle of Cannae. It contained a garrison of five hundred picked Numidians. After the fall of Capua,, the Roman party in Salapia regained confidence and strength, and succeeded in betraying the town to the consul Marcellus, on which occasion the brave Numidians were cut down to the last man. Marcellus, who was consul for the fourth time, had the conduct of the war in Italy, whilst his colleague, M. Valerius Laevinus, brought the war in Sicily to a close by the conquest of Agrigentum. After gaining possession of Salapia, he marched to Samnium, where he took a few insignificant places, and the Carthaginian magazines which they contained.

Whilst he was here occupied with operations of little moment, and apparently paid little attention to Hannibal’s movements, and to acting in concert with the praetor Cn. Fulvius Centumalus, who commanded two legions in Apulia, the latter officer and his army paid dearly for the negligence and unskillful strategy which again marked the divided command of the Roman generals. He lay encamped near Herdonea, a town of Apulia, which, like Salapia, had joined the Punians after the battle of Cannae. By the co-operation of the Roman party in the place, he hoped to gain possession of it. But Hannibal, far away in Bruttium, had been informed of the peril in which the town was placed. After a rapid march he appeared unexpectedly before the Roman camp. By what stratagem he succeeded in drawing Fulvius from his safe position, or in forcing him from it, we are not informed. It is not at all likely that, as Livy relates, the Roman praetor voluntarily accepted battle, confident in his own strength. By a most extraordinary coincidence, it happened that, in the same place where, two years before, Hannibal had defeated the propraetor Fulvius Flaccus, he was now again opposed to a Fulvius. The happy omen which lay in this casual identity of name and place was improved by Hannibal’s genius to lead to a second equally brilliant victory. The Roman army was utterly routed, the camp taken, 7,000 men, or, according to another report, 13,000 men, were slain, among them eleven military tribunes and the praetor Cu. Fulvius Centumalus himself. It was a victory worthy to be compared with the great triumphs of the first three glorious years of the war. Again it was shown that Hannibal was irresistible in the field, and again Rome was plunged into mourning, and people looked anxiously into the future when they reflected that not even the loss of Capua had broken Hannibal's courage or strength, and that he was more terrible now and in the possession of a larger part of Italy than after the day of Cannae.

Yet Hannibal was far from overrating his success. He saw that, in spite of his victory, he was unable to hold Herdonea for any long time. Accordingly he punished with death the leaders of the Roman faction in the town, who had carried on negotiations with Fulvius. He then set the town. on fire, and removed the inhabitants to Thurii and Metapontum. This done, he went in search of the second Roman army in Samnium, under the command of the consul M. Claudius Marcellus.

Whether Marcellus might have prevented the defeat of Fulvius is a question which we do not venture to decide. But it is quite evident, even from the scanty and falsified reports of his alleged heroic exploits, that, after the disaster, he did not venture, with his consular army of two legions, to oppose Hannibal. The boastful language with which Livy introduces these reports seems to indicate that they were taken from the laudatory speeches preserved in the family archives. Marcellus, it is said, sent a letter to Rome, requesting the senate to dismiss all fear, for that he was still the same who after the battle of Cannae had so roughly handled Hannibal; he would at once march against him, and take care that his joy should be short-lived. The hostile armies met indeed at Numistro, an utterly unknown place—perhaps in Lucania—and a fierce battle ensued, which, according to Livy, lasted without a decision into the night. On the following day, it is further reported, Hannibal did not venture to renew the struggle, so that the Romans remained in possession of the field and were able to burn their dead, whilst Hannibal, under cover of the subsequent night, withdrew to Apulia, pursued by the Romans. He was overtaken near Venusia, and here several engagements took place, which were of no great importance, but on the whole ended favourably for the Romans.

It is much to be regretted that the account of these events by Polybius is lost. Yet we are not altogether deprived of the means of rectifying the palpable boastings of the annalists whom Livy followed. Frontinus, a military writer of the first century after Christ, has by chance preserved an account of the battle of Numistro, from which we learn that it ended, not with a victory, but with a defeat of Marcellus. So barefaced were the lies of the family panegyrists even at this time, and so greedily and blindly did the majority of historians, in their national vanity, adopt every report which tended to glorify the Roman arms! The whole success of which, in truth, Marcellus could boast was, in all likelihood, this—that his army was spared such a calamity as had befallen Flaccus and Centumalus. The year passed without further military events in Italy. But at sea the Romans sustained a reverse. A fleet with provisions, destined for the garrison of the citadel of Tarentum, and convoyed by thirty ships of war, was attacked by a Tarentine squadron under Demokrates, and completely defeated. Yet this event had no essential influence on the state of things in Tarentum. The Roman garrison of the citadel, though pressed very hard, held out manfully, and by occasional sallies inflicted considerable loss on the besiegers. We must presume that provisions were from time to time thrown into the place. Under these circumstances the Romans could calmly maintain their position, whilst the populous town of Tarentum, whose trade, industry, and agriculture were paralysed, felt the garrison of the citadel like a thorn in the flesh.

The year 210, as we have seen, had produced no material change in the situation of affairs in Italy. The reconquest of Salapia and a few insignificant places in Samnium was amply compensated by the defeats which the Romans sustained by land and sea. Hannibal, though driven out of Campania, was still master of southern Italy. The Romans had indeed put two legions less into the field—twenty-one instead of twenty-three—but a permanent reduction of the burdens of war was out of the question as long as Hannibal held his ground in Italy unconquered and threatening as before. The war had now lasted for eight years. The exhaustion of Italy became visibly greater. All available measures had already been taken to procure money and men. The foremost senators now set the example of contributing their gold and silver as a voluntary loan for the purpose of equipping and manning a new fleet. At length the government appropriated a reserve fund of 4,000 pounds of gold, which had in better times been laid by for the last necessities of the state.

As long as the undaunted spirit of Roman pride and determination animated the state, there was hope that all the great sacrifices had not been made in vain. Up to the present moment this spirit had stood all tests. The defection of several of the allies seemed only to have the effect of uniting the others more firmly to Rome, especially the Roman citizens themselves and the Latins, who on all occasions had shown themselves as brave and patriotic as the genuine Romans. But now, in the year 209, when the consuls called upon the Latins to furnish more troops and money, the delegates of twelve Latin colonies formally declared that their resources were completely exhausted, and that they were unable to comply with the request. This declaration was no less unexpected than alarming. When the consuls made their report to the senate of the refusal of the twelve colonies, and added that no arguments and exhortations had the least effect upon the delegates, then the boldest men in that stubborn assembly began to tremble, and those who had not despaired after the battle of Cannae almost resigned themselves to the inevitable downfall of the commonwealth. How was it possible that Rome should be saved if the remaining colonies and allies should follow the example of the twelve, and if all Italy should conspire to abandon Rome in this hour of need?

The fate of Rome was trembling in the balance. Hannibal’s calculations had so far proved correct that now even the Roman senate feared that his plan must be realised. The fabric of Roman power had not, it is true, yielded to one blow, nor even to repeated blows; but the miseries of a war protracted through so many years had gradually undermined the foundations on which it rested, and the moment seemed approaching when it would collapse with a sudden crash.

Everything depended on the attitude which the remaining eighteen Latin colonies would assume. If they followed the example of the twelve, it was clear that no further reliance could he placed on the other allies, and Rome would be compelled to sue for peace. But fortunately this humiliation was not in store for her. Marcus Sextilius of Fregellae declared, in the name of the other colonies, that they were ready to furnish not only their customary and legal contingent of soldiers, but even a greater number, if necessary; and that at the same time they were not wanting in means, and still less in the will, to execute any other order of the Roman people. The deputies of the eighteen colonies were introduced into the senate by the consuls, and received the thanks of that venerable assembly. The Roman people formally ratified the decree of the senate and added its own thanks; and indeed never had any people more cause for gratitude, and never was the expression of public thanks more amply deserved than by the eighteen faithful colonies. Their firmness saved Rome, if not from utter destruction (for no doubt Hannibal would now, as after the battle of Cannae, have been ready to grant peace on equitable terms), at any rate from the loss of her commanding position in Italy and in the world. The names of the eighteen colonies deserved to be engraved in golden letters on the Capitol. They were Signia, Norba, and Saticula, three of the original cities of old Latium; Fregellae, on the river Liris, the apple of discord in the second Samnite war; Luceria and Venusia, in Apulia; Brundusium, Hadria, Firmum, and Ariminum, on the east coast; Pontiae, Paestum, and Cosa, on the western sea; Beneventum, Aesernia, and Spolotium, in the mountainous district of the interior; and, lastly, Placentia and Cremona on the Po, the most recent colonial foundations, which since Hannibal's appearance in Italy had been in constant danger, and had bravely and successfully resisted all attacks. What caused the division among the thirty Latin colonics is not reported by our informants, nor are we able to guess. We find that, on the whole, it was the older colonies, lying nearer to Rome, which refused further service. These were Ardea, Nepete, Sutrium, Alba, Carseoli, Sora, Suessa, Circeii, Setia, Cales, Narnia, and Interamna. Is it possible that, because they were nearer to the capital, more services had been required of them during the war? or did they feel more keenly than the more distant colonies their exclusion from the full Roman franchise? We remember that, in the third year of the war, Spurius Carvilius proposed in the senate to admit members to that body from the Latin colonies. This wise proposal had been rejected with Roman haughtiness and even indignation. It is not improbable that Spurius Carvilius, before he recommended the admission of Latins into the Roman senate, had convinced himself that the colonists also felt themselves entitled to a privilege which they regarded as their right. Perhaps if his counsel had been taken, the Romans would never have heard of a refusal of their allies to bear their share of the burdens of the war. But, in the total absence of direct evidence, we cannot be sure that any such dis­content caused the disobedience of the twelve colonies. The reason which Livy assigns seems inadequate. He relates that the remnants of the routed legions of Cannae and Herdonea were punished for their bad behaviour by being sent to Sicily and condemned to serve to the end of the war without pay, under conditions that were onerous and degrading. The majority of these troops, says Livy, consisted of Latins; and as Rome called for new efforts and sacrifices year after year, for more soldiers and more money, whilst she kept the veterans in Sicily, the dis­content of the colonists swelled to positive resistance. The severity, or rather the cruelty, of Rome towards the unfortunate survivors of the defeated armies may have called forth bitter feelings; yet, as Rome treated her own citizens with the same severity as the Latins, and, as far as we know, made no difference among the various Latin contingents, we fail to discover why twelve colonies out of thirty considered themselves more especially ill-treated and called upon to remonstrate.

The thanks of the senate and the Roman people awarded to the staunch and faithful eighteen colonies was the only reproof which at present was addressed to the remonstrances of the others. With wise moderation Rome refrained from punishing them. The negotiations with them were broken off. Their delegates received no answer of any kind, and left Rome with the painful feeling that they had indeed carried their point, but that they had done so at the risk of a severe retaliation at some future time, which could be averted only by speedy repentance and redoubled zeal in the service of Rome.

The great object of the campaign in Italy was now the reconquest of Tarentum. Not less than six legions were deemed necessary to accomplish this end, viz., the armies of the two consuls of Fabius Maximus and Q. Fulvius Flaccus—and a third army of equal strength under Marcellus. Besides these forces there was in Bruttium a body of 8,000 men, mostly irregular troops, a motley band of Bruttian deserters, discharged soldiers, and marauders, who, after the ending of the war in Sicily, had been collected there by the consul Valerius Laevinus and sent into Italy to be let loose upon the allies of Hannibal. There were, therefore, altogether not less than 70,000 men in the south of Italy, a force sufficient to crush by its mere weight any other enemy of the numerical strength of the Carthaginian army. But, even with this vast superiority of strength, the Roman generals were far from trying to bring on a decisive battle. The events of the past year had too much revived the memory of Cannae, and no Roman as yet ventured to run the risk of a like disaster. The plan of the consuls accordingly was to avoid pitched battles, and to retake one by one the fortified places which had been lost—a process by which Hannibal would be combined more and more within a contracted territory. This was the plan which had been successfully adopted after Cannae. Every deviation from it had proved dangerous. It was a slow process; nut, owing to the preponderance of the Romans in material resources and to their dogged perseverance, it was sure in the end to lead to victory.

Whilst the consul Q. Fabius Maximus was watching Tarentum, his colleague Fulvius and the proconsul Marcellus had orders to occupy Hannibal elsewhere. Fulvius marched through the country of the Hirpinians, and took a number of fortified places, the inhabitants of which made their peace with Rome by delivering up the Punic garrisons. Marcellus, exhibiting more courage than discretion, ventured to advance against Hannibal from Venusia; but he was so badly handled in a series of small engagements that he was obliged to take refuge in Venusia, and so crippled that he was unable to undertake anything for the remainder of the year.

Whilst Hannibal was confronting Marcellus in Apulia, a Roman force of 8,000 men had issued from Rhegium to attack the city of Caulonia in Bruttium. As Frederick the Great, in the eventful year 1756, turned with the rapidity of lightning from one defeated enemy to defeat another, so Hannibal suddenly appeared before Caulonia, and, after a short resistance, captured the whole of the besieging army. This done, he immediately hastened towards Tarentum, which he hoped would hold out against Fabius Maximus until he had repulsed the other hostile forces.

Marching night and day, he reached Metapontum, where he received the mournful intelligence that Tarentum had been betrayed into the hands of the Romans. Fabius had attacked Tarentum on the land side with great vehemence, but without success. The Tarentines, knowing full well what they had to expect from Rome if their town should be retaken, defended it with desperate courage. A Punic garrison under Carthalo, strengthened by a detachment of Bruttians, shared the defence with the citizens. There was no prospect of taking the town by force, and any day a Punic fleet or Hannibal’s army might be expected before the town to raise the siege. Under these circumstances the cautious old Fabius tried the same alts by which two years before Hannibal had gained Tarentum. The officer in command of the Bruttians was bribed to let the Romans secretly into the town. Fabius ordered a general night-attack on Tarentum from the citadel, the inner harbour, and the open sea, whilst on the land side, in the east of the town, where the Bruttians were stationed, he waited for the signal agreed upon. While the attention of the besieged was directed to the three parts of the town which were apparently most in danger, the Bruttians opened a gate; the Romans rushed in, and now, after a short and ineffectual resistance of the Tarentines, followed promiscuous massacre which usually accompanied the taking of a hostile town by Roman troops. The victors put to the sword not only those who still resisted, like Niko, the leader of the treason by which Tarentum had fallen into the hands of Hannibal two years before, and Demokrates, the brave commander of the Tarentine fleet, so recently victorious over that of the Romans, but also Carthalo, the commander of the Punic garrison, who had laid down his arms and asked for quarter. In fact they slew all whom they met, even the Bruttians who had let them into the town, either, as Livy observes, by mistake, or from old national hatred, or in order to make it appear that Tarentum was taken by force, and not by treason. The captured town was then given up to be plundered. Thirty thousand Tarentines were sold as slaves for the benefit of the Roman treasury. The quantity of statues, pictures, and other works of art almost equalled the booty of Syracuse. All was sent to Rome; only a colossal statue of Jupiter, the removal and transport of which proved too difficult, was left by the generous Fabius. He would not, he said, deprive the Tarentines of their patron deities, whose wrath they had experienced.

Thus Tarentum, which was, after Capua, the most important of the Italian cities that had joined Carthage, was again reduced to subjection. The limits were contracting more and more within which Hannibal could range freely. The whole of Campania, Samnium, and Lucania, almost all Apulia, were lost. Even the Bruttians, the only one of the Italian races that had not yet made their peace with Rome, began to waver in their fidelity to him. Tarentum had been betrayed to the Romans by the Bruttian corps of the garrison; and the tempting offers of Fulvius, who promised pardon for the revolt, were readily listened to by several chiefs of this half-barbarous people. Rhegium, the important maritime town which kept open the communication with Sicily, and, in conjunction with Messana, closed the straits to the Carthaginian ships, had always remained in the possession of the Romans. The impoverished Greek towns and the narrow strip of land from Lucania to Sicily were all that was left to Hannibal of the promising acquisitions made after the first few brilliant campaigns. Pushed back into this corner, like the Duke of Wellington behind the lines of Torres Vedras, the unconquered and undaunted Hannibal waited for the moment when, in conjunction with his brother, whom he expected from Spain, he could with renewed vigour assail Rome and force her to make peace.

The taking of Tarentum at the same time with the fall of New Carthage was a compensation for the efforts and losses of the year 209. The remainder of this year passed without any further military events, and for the succeeding year, as has been already stated, Marcellus was for the fifth time raised to the consulship. His colleague was T. Quinctius Crispinus, one of the many Roman nobles whose names call forth no distinct pictures in our imagination, because they mark nothing but the average mediocrity of their class. The campaign of this year had for its object, as it appears, the reconquest of Locri, the most important of the towns still in Hannibal’s possession. The Romans steadily adhered to their plan of avoiding battles as much as possible, and of depriving the enemy of his means for continuing the war in Italy by taking from him the support of fortified places. Seven legions and a fleet were destined to operate for this end in the south of Italy. Whilst the two consuls, with two consular armies, covered in the rear by a legion in Campania, occupied Hannibal, Q. Claudius, who commanded two legions in Tarentum, was ordered to advance on Locri by land, and L. Cincius was to sail from Sicily with a fleet and attack Locri from the sea side. Hannibal, who was opposing the combined armies of the consuls, was informed of the march of the Roman army along the coast from Tarentum to Locri. He surprised it in the neighbourhood of Petelia and inflicted a severe defeat, killing several thousands and driving the remainder in a disorderly flight back to Tarentum.

Thus, for the present, Locri was out of danger, and Hannibal was at leisure to turn against the two consuls, whom he hoped to force to accept a decisive battle. But Marcellus and Crispinus were resolved to be cautious. They were not going to allow Hannibal to try one of his stratagems and to catch them in a trap, as he had so often done with less experienced or less careful opponents. The sexagenarian Marcellus himself headed a reconnaissance, accompanied by his colleague, his son, a number of officers, and a few hundred horsemen, to explore the country between the Roman and the Carthaginian camps. On this expedition the brave old soldier met his death. From the wooded recesses of the hills in front and in the flank, Numidian horsemen rushed suddenly forward. In a moment the consuls’ escort were cut down or scattered; Crispinus and the young Marcellus escaped, severely wounded, and Marcellus fell fighting like a brave trooper, closing his long life in a manner which, though it might befit a common soldier, was hardly worthy of a statesman and a general. His magnanimous enemy honoured his body with a decent funeral, and sent the ashes to his son.

If we calmly examine what is reported of the virtues of Marcellus, we shall come to the conclusion that he is one of those men who are praised far beyond their merits. This is caused partly by the circumstance that, owing to the scarcity of men of eminent abilities, the Roman historians were almost driven to speak in high praise of men scarcely raised above mediocrity, because otherwise they would have had nobody to compare with the great heroes and statesmen of Greece, by whose greatness they loved to measure their own. If it happened that a Roman possessed a little more than the average amount of national virtues—if by family connexions, noble birth, and wealth he was marked out for the high offices of state, and if he was fortunate enough to find on the occasion of his funeral a sufficiently skilful and not too bashful panegyrist, his fame was secured for ever. All these favourable circumstances were combined in the case of Marcellus. He was a brave soldier, a firm intrepid patriot, and an unflinching enemy of the enemies of Rome. But to extol him as an eminent general, or even as a worthy opponent of Hannibal, argues want of judgment and personal or national partiality. He was not much better than most of the other Roman generals of his time. The reports of his victories over Hannibal are one and all fictitious. Thus much is evident from what has been said before, for the tissue of falsehood is after all so thin that it covers the truth but imperfectly; but it can also be proved from the statement of Polybius. This historian says, evidently for the purpose of refuting assertions current in his own time, that Marcellus never once conquered Hannibal. After such emphatic evidence as this, we are allowing a great deal if we admit that, perhaps once, or even on several occasions, Marcellus succeeded in thwarting the plans of Hannibal, by beating off attacks or withdrawing from a conflict without the total rout of his army. Something of this sort must have supplied the materials for exaggerations for which there may have been some pretext or excuse. Accordingly, if Cicero calls Marcellus fiery and clashing, he no doubt speaks the truth; but if he extols his clemency towards the conquered Syracusans, it is clear that he only employs him as a foil for the purpose of placing in a more glaring light the horrible “villany of Verres”. How Marcellus treated the Sicilians we learn from the events which followed the capture of Syracuse. He was, in truth, a merciless destroyer and insatiably greedy. When the Sicilians heard that, in the year 210, he was again to take the command in their island, they were distracted with terror and despair, and declared, in Rome, that it would be better for them if the sea were to swallow them up, or if the fiery lava of Mount Aetna were to cover the land; they assured the senate that they would much rather leave their native country than dwell in it for anytime under the tyranny of Marcellus. So vigorous and so just was the protest of the Sicilians that Marcellus was obliged to exchange provinces with his colleague Valerius Laevinus, and to take the command in Italy instead of Sicily, which had been awarded to him by lot. That he exceeded the limits of Roman severity is evident from the decree of the senate, which, though it does not exactly censure his proceedings in Syracuse, or annul the arrangements which he had made, yet enjoined his successor Laevinus to provide for the welfare of Syracuse, as far as the interest of the republic allowed. The old Fabius Maximus was surely a genuine Roman, but he acted very differently from Marcellus. He warmly pleaded in the senate in favour of the Tarentines whom he had reduced, and he shielded them from the rapacity and revenge of men who, like Marcellus, delighted in venting their evil passions on helpless foes. We can see clearly that public opinion no longer declared it to be a Roman virtue to treat conquered enemies with excessive severity, that feelings of humanity began to influence the more refined minds, and that the panegyrists (those, for example, of the Scipios) found it necessary to throw over their heroes the colour of kindliness and clemency.

It would be interesting to know from what source the vast exaggerations and fictions are derived which have the praises of Marcellus for their object. Perhaps we shall not go wrong in supposing that their fountain-head was the funeral speech delivered, according to Livy, by the son of Marcellus. This document seems, however, not to have met with unconditional credence at first, as may be inferred from the quoted declaration of Polybius, and from Livy himself. But when the Emperor Augustus had selected M. Claudius Marcellus, the descendant of the conqueror of Syracuse, for the husband of his daughter Julia, a new period of glorification began for the family of the Marcelli. A careful search was now made for everything that redounded to the praise of the ancestors of the young man in the glorious times of the older republic. Augustus himself composed an historical work on this subject, and we cannot fail to perceive that Livy wrote under the influence of the Augustan court. He treats Marcellus as a favourite hero, and even in Plutarch we can trace this preference accorded to Marcellus. If we deduct all that family conceit and national pride have invented about Marcellus, there remains, indeed, the image of a genuine Roman of the old type, of an intrepid soldier, and an energetic officer: but the parallel between Marcellus and Pelopidas seems inappropriate, and all comparison between him and Hannibal is absurd.

The death of Marcellus and that of his colleague Crispinus, who very soon after died of his wounds, appears to have paralysed the action of the two consular armies for the whole of the campaign, though they had remained intact when their leaders were cut off. It is very strange that the Roman people, which year after year found new commanders-in-chief, now allowed four legions to remain inactive for at least half a year because both consuls had by chance fallen in the field. If it be indeed true, as is related, that the armies suffered no further losses—in other words, that after the death of Marcellus they were not attacked and beaten by Hannibal—the strategy of the Romans appears in a sorry light. One of the two armies retired to Venusia, the other even as far as Campania, paid they left the Carthaginian general at liberty to put an end to the siege of Locri, which had been again undertaken. The praetor Lucius Cincius had obtained from Sicily a great quantity of engines necessary for a siege, raid had attacked Locri vigorously, both by land and sea. Already the Punic garrison was much reduced, and despaired of being able to hold the town much longer, when Hannibal’s Numidians showed themselves in the neighbourhood and encouraged the garrison to make a sally. Attacked in front and rear, the Romans soon gave way, left all their siege engines behind, and took refuge on board their ships. Locri was saved by the mere arrival of Hannibal.

Through the failure of the attack on Locri, the campaign of 208 proved entirely fruitless to the Romans, and all further military proceedings were suspended. For the first time since the establishment of the republic both consuls had fallen in battle. The commonwealth was bereaved, and religious fears and scruples no doubt contributed to paralyse military action for the time. It was most fortunate for Rome that, in consequence of her indefatigable perseverance and gigantic efforts, Hannibal had been pushed into the defensive, and was no longer able to carry on the war on a large scale. For at this very time the signs of discontent and disobedience multiplied among the subjects of Rome in Italy, whilst the news that arrived from Spain, Massilia, Africa, and Sicily left little doubt that the time had come at last when the long prepared expedition of Hasdrubal from Spain into Italy might be looked for as imminent. It seemed as if the war, which had now lasted ten years, instead of gradually flagging and drawing to a close was to begin afresh with renewed vigour.

The refusal of the twelve Latin colonies to bear any longer the burdens of the war could not fail to produce an effect on the other allies of Rome. Soon after there appeared most alarming signs of growing discontent in Etruria. This country had hitherto been almost exempt from the immediate calamities of war. Hannibal, it is true, had in his first campaign touched a part of Etruria, and had on Etruscan soil fought the battle of Thrasymenus. But, as he wished to conciliate the allies of Rome and to appear as their friend, he had probably spared the country as much as possible. In the succeeding years the theatre of war had been shifted to the south of Italy, and whilst Apulia, Lucania, Campania, and, above all, Bruttium were exposed to all the horrors of war, and whilst the African, Spanish, and Gaulish barbarians in Hannibal’s army penetrated with fire and sword into the interior of Samnium and Latium, nay even to the very gates of Rome, Etruria had heard the storm rage at a distance, and had, almost without interruption, enjoyed practically the blessings of peace. The countryman had securely tilled his field, the shepherd had tended his flock, the artisan and the tradesman had each plied his craft. In its fidelity to Rome, Etruria had hitherto remained unshaken. It was an Etruscan cohort from Perugia, which, side by side with one from Praeneste, had heroically resisted the Carthaginians in the protracted siege of Casilinum. Without any doubt the Etruscans had supplied their full contingents to all the armies and fleets of the Romans, and nothing but the customary injustice of the Roman annalists has ignored this co-operation of their allies. Financially, too, the rich towns of Etruria had helped to bear the burdens of the war. Of especial importance were the supplies of grain that came from this country. We cannot suppose that the Roman treasury was in a condition to pay for this grain in cash, and probably the price was fixed very low, in the interest of the state. Thus it was that Etruria also began to feel the pressure of the war; and the desire for peace showed itself naturally in an unwillingness to comply with further demands on the part of Rome. As early as 212 B.C. the first symptoms of discontent had become apparent. On that occasion a Roman army was sent to Etruria to keep the country in check. Three years later the agitation became much more critical. It showed itself especially in Arretium, a town which at one time was reputed as one of the foremost of the Etruscan people, and which, as an old friend and ally of Rome, might consider itself entitled to be treated with some degree of preference and indulgence. Marcellus, who, immediately after his election to the consulship of 208 B.C., was sent to Arretium, succeeded for the moment in quieting the people; but when he had set out on his campaign in the south of the peninsula, where he was soon afterwards killed in ambush, the Etruscans again became troublesome, and the senate now dispatched C. Terentius Varro, the consul of 216, with military authority, to Arretium. Varro occupied the town with a Roman legion, and required hostages from the Arretine senate. Finding that the senators hesitated to comply with his order, he placed sentinels at the gates and along the walls, to prevent anybody leaving the place. Nevertheless seven of the most eminent men escaped with their families. The property of the fugitives was forthwith confiscated, and one hundred and twenty hostages, taken from the families of the remaining senators, were sent to Rome. The unsatisfactory state of Etruria seemed, however, to require a better guarantee than a few hostages from a single town. The senate therefore dispatched a legion to back the measures which were everywhere taken for keeping the country in subjection and for crushing in the bud every attempt at revolution.

This growing discontent among a considerable portion of the most faithful and valuable allies caused the more anxiety in Rome as about the same time disquieting news arrived of the movements of Hasdrubal. As early as two years before (in 210 B.C.) the admiral M. Valerius Messala had sailed from. Sicily with fifty vessels to Africa, to obtain accurate information about the plans and preparations of the Carthaginians. He returned after an absence of thirteen days to Lilybaeum, and reported that the Carthaginians were making armaments on a large scale to increase Hasdrubal’s army in Spain and to carry out at last the plan of sending him with a strong force across the Alps to Italy. This news was confirmed by the Carthaginian senators taken prisoners by Scipio at New Carthage, who, as commissioners of the Carthaginian government, were necessarily well informed of the plan of war and of the progress of the armaments in Carthage. It was now of the utmost importance, just as in the beginning of the war, to detain Hasdrubal in Spain; and after the decided progress which the Roman arms had made in Spain during the last year, after the conquest of New Carthage and the revolt of numerous Spanish peoples from the Carthaginians, this appeared a comparatively easy task for so enterprising a general as Scipio. He had been enabled, by means of the hostages found in New Carthage, to gain the friendship of many Spanish chiefs, among whom Indibilis and Mandonius are especially mentioned as the most powerful and hitherto most faithful allies of Carthage. After such results it seems strange that Scipio remained inactive for almost a whole year before he thought of moving southwards from Tarraco. Where the three Carthaginian generals were during all this time, and what they did, we do not know. All the events that took place in Spain during the whole war are hidden in such obscurity that, by comparison with them, the campaigns in Italy and Sicily appear as in the clear light of historical truth. The Romans were so ignorant of the geography of Spain, the distance of that country from Rome was so great, and the intercourse so limited, that fancy ranged freely in all the narratives of Spanish affairs.

We have already seen, on a former occasion, how the annalists made use of this circumstance, and we have now again an opportunity for noticing the same thing. They reported that Scipio encountered Hasdrubal at Baecula, a place situated probably between the Baetis (Guadalquivir) and the Anas (Guadiana), and defeated him with a loss of 20,000 men. One might suppose that such a decisive victory as this would have led to the most important results, and would at any rate have paralysed all further enterprises of Hasdrubal; but we find that Hasdrubal was able immediately after this battle to carry into execution the plan which had been delayed by adverse circumstances for eight years. From the battlefield he marched unpursued, with his defeated and crippled army (if Roman accounts are to be trusted), through the centre of the peninsula, crossed the Pyrenees by one of the western passes, and had actually reached Gaul, while Scipio, in total ignorance of his movements, was in hopes that he could stop his march somewhere between the Ebro and the Pyrenees, on the road which Hannibal had taken ten years before. It is hard to understand how, under such circumstances, the battle at Baecula can have resulted in a Roman victory. Perhaps it was only an insignificant encounter of the Carthaginian rear-guard with the Roman legions, which, after their usual fashion, the Roman annalists magnified into a great battle and glorious victory. Anyhow the strategic success was entirely on the side of the Carthaginians, and Scipio had to confess that he was not equal to the task which he had undertaken; it was his fault that Italy was exposed to a new invasion, and that on Italian soil a struggle was renewed on whose doubtful issue depended not only the supremacy but the very existence of Rome.

In Italy the approaching danger called forth the most serious apprehensions. The combined assault of the two sons of Hamilcar on Italian soil, which the senate had been so anxious to elude, was now imminent. The military history of the preceding year was not calculated to inspire much confidence. The siege of Locri had failed. The consuls with their combined armies had not been able to keep Hannibal in check, and both had actually fallen. Their legions had retired to the shelter of fortified places, and Hannibal was undisputed master of Bruttium and Apulia. The twelve remonstrating colonies still refused to furnish troops. Etruria was discontented, almost in open rebellion; the Gauls and Ligurians were ready to make another inroad into Italy. The news from Spain, even if it was coloured as favourably as it appears in Livy’s narrative (a circumstance much to be doubted), could not deceive the senate on the subject of Scipio’s real success. There was not the slightest doubt that Italy would again have to bear the brunt of war, and that now, after ten years of exhausting warfare, she would scarcely be able to resist a double assault. The Romans might well ask, what gods would watch over their town in such perilous times, when, in spite of all their prayers and all their vows and sacrifices, the paternal deities had shown themselves inexorable or else powerless to ward off the devastation of Italy and disasters like those of Thrasymenus and Cannae. Again—as always happens in days of extreme danger—the popular mind, tortured by religious terrors, saw everywhere signs of the divine anger; and, in the effort to avert this anger, it gave itself up to horrid delusions, and to the cruelty of superstition. Again it rained stones, rivers ran with blood, temples, walls, and gates of towns were struck by lightning. But more than usual terror was caused by the birth of a child of uncertain sex, and so large that it seemed to be four years old. Soothsayers were specially sent for from Etruria, and at their suggestion the wretched creature was placed in a box and cast into the sea far from the coast. Then the pontifices ordained the celebration of a grand national festival of atonement. From the temple of Apollo before the town, a procession marched through the Porta Carmentalis, along the Vicus Jugarius to the Forum. At the head of the procession walked two white cows, led by sacrificial servants; behind them were carried two statues of the royal Juno, made of cypress wood; then followed three times nine virgins in long flowing garments, walking in a single line and holding on to a rope, singing to the measured time of their footsteps, in honour of the goddess, a hymn, which Livius Andronicus, the oldest Roman poet, had composed for this special occasion, and which later generations—justly, no doubt—considered a specimen of ancestral rudeness. At the end of the procession came the ten officers who presided over sacrificial rites (decemviri sacris faciundis), crowned with laurel and clothed in purple-bordered togas. From the Forum the procession went, after a short pause, through the Vicus Tuscus, the Velabrum, and the Forum Boarium, up the Clivus Publicius, to the temple of Juno on the Aventine. Here the two cows were sacrificed by the ten sacrificial priests, and the statues were put up in the temple of the goddess. This simple and dignified solemnity is interesting, not only because, being taken from the priestly archives, the narrative is no doubt authentic and trustworthy, but because it shows, in a very clear and unmistakable manner, to what extent the Roman mind was at that period already penetrated by Greek ideas. The Roman pontifices arrange a festival in honour of a Roman deity, Juno the Queen. The religious procession, with rhythmical walking and singing, is likewise Roman, but the procession starts from the temple of the Greek Apollo; the ten officers, the keepers of the Sibylline oracles of the same god, perform the sacrifice, while a poet of Greek extraction, Andronikos, who sixty-four years before had been dragged into slavery from conquered Tarentum, composed the solemn hymn, which, in spite of its hard and uncultivated language, marked, no doubt, an immense progress when compared with the old and scarcely intelligible litanies of the Romulean “fratres arvales”. In the very midst of a war which threatened Rome and Italian culture with ruin, we can watch the signs of the increasing ascendancy of the Hellenic mind.

Amidst their prayers for divine protection, the Romans did not forget to take measures for confronting the impending danger. The number of the legions was increased from twenty-one to twenty-three. The conscription was enforced with the greatest severity; even the maritime colonies, which had hitherto been exempt from service, were compelled to furnish troops. Ostia and Antium alone remained exempt, but were ordered to keep their contingents in constant readiness. From the Spanish legions 2,000 foot and 1,000 horse were detached and sent to Italy, besides 8,000 Spanish and Gaulish mercenaries; from Sicily came 2,000 slingers and archers. The two legions of liberated slaves, which, since the death of Gracchus, had been neglected, were re-organised and completed, and thus a military force was set on foot large enough to take the field as well against Hannibal as Hasdrubal.

The consuls selected for the momentous year 207 were Caius Claudius Nero and Marcus Livius Salinator. The former—the great grandson of the celebrated censor Appius Claudius the Blind—had, immediately after the taking of Capua in 211 B.C., been sent as propraetor with an army to Spain, to retrieve the fortunes of war in that country after the destruction of the Roman armies under the two Scipios. His alleged successes over Hasdrubal are either entirely fictitious or greatly exaggerated. It was said that he had outmanoeuvred the Punic general, and might have made him prisoner with his army, but allowed himself to be delayed by negotiations about an armistice until the whole hostile force had had time gradually to escape from its critical position. In his command in Spain he was superseded, in 210, by the younger Scipio. In what manner he so gained the confidence of the people as to be intrusted with the consulship in 207, we are not told. His colleague, Livius Salinator, was a tried old soldier, who twelve years before had conducted the Illyrian war successfully, and ended it with the last triumph that Rome had witnessed. But from that time he had been lost to his country. He had been accused and condemned for an unjust distribution of the Illyrian booty, and had felt so hurt at this indignity that he had retired into the country, had allowed his beard and hair to grow, and had refused for eight years to take part in the affairs of state, until in the year 210 the consuls Marcellus and Valerius induced him to return into the town. The censors of the same year Veturius and Licinius re-introduced him into the senate, from which he had probably been expelled in consequence of his public condemnation; still his wrath was not appeased. He never took part in the discussions, but sat moodily listening in silence, until at last the accusation of one of his relations, M. Livius Macatus, who by his negligence had caused the loss of Tarentum, induced him to speak. Now, when the people needed a good general, they bethought themselves of the tried old soldier, and, in spite of his remonstrances, elected him as the colleague of Claudius Nero. But a difficulty had still to be overcome before the intention of the people could be realised. Nero and Livius were personal enemies. How was it possible to intrust the welfare of the state in such a critical period to men who hated one another? It was not enough to separate the consuls in their command, by sending one southward against Hannibal, and the other against Hasdrubal into the north of the peninsula. The division of the supreme command among two men, which had so often been the source of weakness in the wars of the Roman republic, was surely ruinous if such an enemy as Hannibal were opposed by men who hated one another. It was absolutely necessary not only to reconcile the two consuls, but to unite them by cordial friendship. This arduous task was accomplished by the senate. Both Nero and Livius overcame their personal feelings of resentment, and this triumph of patriotism over personal passion was a happy augury and almost a guarantee of the final triumph over the foreign enemy.

The Romans were far from having finished their preparations for the ensuing campaign when the allied Massilians brought the news of Hasdrubal’s march through Gaul, and made it evident that he would cross the Alps in the early part of the spring. He had marched from the western Pyrenees right across southern Gaul to the Rhone, had been hospitably received by the Averni and other tribes, had enlarged his army by newly enlisted mercenaries, and, after passing the winter in Gaul, was preparing to cross the Alps by the same road which his brother had taken eleven years before. It was evident that neither the difficulties of the Alpine passes nor the hostilities of the mountaineers would deter him. The passes offered no insurmountable difficulties in the good season, and the inhabitants of the Alps had learnt by experience that the Carthaginian armies had not come to make war on them, but only to march through their country. If the Romans wished to avoid the mistake of 218, and to meet the Carthaginians at the foot of the Alps, the utmost dispatch in the movement of their armies was imperatively demanded. Every step that Hasdrubal made in a southerly direction, after crossing the Alps, brought him nearer to his brother and increased the danger which the union of the two brothers threatened to bring upon Rome.

Hannibal had probably wintered in Apulia, and at the beginning of spring marched into Bruttium to collect and organise the troops in that country. Thereupon he started northwards, and encountered the consul, Claudius Nero, who, with an army of 40,000 foot and 2,500 horse, was posted near Grumentum, in Lucania, to stop his advance. An engagement took place, in which Nero claimed the victory, and Hannibal is reported to have lost 8,000 dead and 700 prisoners. But this seems not to agree with the statement that Hannibal continued his march and soon after halted near Venusia. Here he paused, hardly, as it would appear, because he was afraid of the Roman army which followed him, and which, at the worst, was able only to annoy, but not to harm, him; he was probably waiting for news from his brother, in order to be sure on which road and at what time he should march northwards to meet him. On receiving no news of any sort, he turned back again to Metapontum, to join another reinforcement which his lieutenant Hanno had in the meantime collected in Bruttium. Whether it was his intention to induce the Roman consul to follow him southwards, or to draw him into an ambush, we cannot tell. Nero followed him closely, and when Hannibal soon after turned again northwards and encamped at Canusium, in the neighbourhood of the glorious battlefield of Cannae, Nero had again taken up his position close to him, and from the mounds of their respective camps the Roman and the Carthaginian sentinels were idly watching each other whilst, at a distance of a few days' march further northwards, the fate of Rome and Carthage was decided.

Having crossed the Alps, Hasdrubal had met with no Roman army in Cisalpine Gaul. The praetor L. Porcius Licinus, who commanded two legions, either came too late or did not venture to penetrate far beyond the Po. Reinforced by Gauls and Ligurians, Hasdrubal tried to take Placentia by storm, but was soon compelled to give up this enterprise, for which he had neither means nor time; and he now advanced southwards on the Flaminian road by Ariminum. It was his intention to meet Hannibal in Umbria, and then to march with the combined armies upon Narnia and Rome. He communicated this plan to Hannibal in a letter, which he dispatched by the hands of four Gaulish and two Numidian horsemen through the whole length of Italy, across a thickly-peopled hostile country, where at every step they ran the risk of being discovered and hunted down. The undaunted horsemen made their way as far as Apulia, but could not find Hannibal, and, roaming about in search of him in the neighbourhood of Tarentum, were at last discovered and made prisoners. Thus Nero was apprised of Hasdrubal's march and of his plans, whilst Hannibal was waiting in vain for news from his brother. Now was the time for forming a quick and bold resolution—such a resolution as, under ordinary circumstances, was quite beyond the conception of a Roman general. It was necessary to deviate from the ordinary routine and from the prescribed order. Apulia and Bruttium had been assigned as the provinces of Nero; it was his task to keep Hannibal in check, whilst his colleague, Livius Salinator, confronted Hasdrubal in the north. Should he take upon himself to leave the province assigned to him, to encroach upon the province of his colleague, and to offer an uncalled-for aid? If the haughty Livius, who had only just subdued his old animosity at the call of his country, should reject the proffered aid—if he should come too late—if Hannibal should discover his march, pursue and overtake him—if from any other cause the enterprise should fail, Claudius Nero was doomed to be for ever branded as the author of the greatest calamity that could befall his country, and Rome would be given up to the mercy of the conquerors. By silencing all scruples and taking upon himself the weighty responsibility, Nero showed a moral firmness and strategic ability which far surpassed the average qualifications of which Roman generals could boast. Even the failure of his plan would not have sufficed to condemn him before the impartial tribunal of history; but, fortunately for Rome, his just calculations and his bold resolve were destined to be crowned with complete and overwhelming success.

Nero informed the senate of Hasdrubal’s plans, and of what he himself was resolved to do. He recommended the government to send two legions which were stationed at Rome up the Tiber to Narnia, for the purpose of blocking up that road in case of necessity, and at the same time to replace them in the capital by one legion, which was stationed in Campania under the command of Fulvius. He then selected out of his army 7,000 of the best foot soldiers and 1,000 horse, and left his camp so quietly that Hannibal did not perceive his march. The inhabitants of the country through which he passed, the Larinatians, Frentanians, Marrucinians, and Praetutians—had been informed of his approach, and called upon to furnish provisions for his troops as well as horses, draft cattle, and vehicles for the transport of the baggage and of the men that might break down on the road. The sentiments of the population of Italy now became unmistakably apparent in a genuine outburst of enthusiasm and of devotion for the cause of Rome, which was the cause of all Italy. Every man was eager to help, to contribute something towards putting down the common enemy. Old and young, rich and poor, hurried to the places where Nero’s soldiers were expected to pass, supplied them with food and drink, warmed them by their sympathies, followed them with the most ardent wishes for victory, while thousands of young men and veteran soldiers joined the army as volunteers.

The march was pressed on without delay. The soldiers would scarcely indulge in so much rest as nature imperatively required; they were inspired by their enthusiasm with superhuman strength. In the neighbourhood of the colony of Sena, to the south of the river Metaurus, Nero found his colleague Livius, and not far from him the praetor L. Porcius Licinus, each encamped with two legions opposite Hasdrubal. In the stillness of the night Nero and his troops were received into the consular camp, and distributed into the tents of their comrades, so that the area of the camp was not enlarged. It was the intention of the Roman consuls to withhold from Hasdrubal the knowledge of the arrival of reinforcements, in order to induce him the more readily to accept battle. At any rate a battle must be fought before Hannibal should become aware of Nero’s march and hasten to support his brother. On this depended the success of the whole campaign. In case of need the consuls would have been compelled to attack the Carthaginian camp. Hasdrubal, however, was not long ignorant that both consuls were confronting him. The double signals which he heard from the Roman camp since Nero’s arrival left no doubt of the fact, and the troops which had just arrived exhibited manifest signs of a long and fatiguing march. Hasdrubal could explain the arrival of the second consul only by supposing that Hannibal’s army was defeated and annihilated, and he resolved accordingly to return into the country of the Gauls, and there to wait for accurate information. In the same night he gave orders to retire beyond the Metaurus. But, by the faithlessness of his guides, he missed the way, wandered long up and down the river without finding a ford, and when morning dawned, saw his disordered and exhausted troops pursued and attacked by the Romans. He had no longer time to cover himself by throwing up fortifications for a camp. In the most disadvantageous position, with a deep river in his rear, he was obliged to accept battle, and, from the very first, he felt the necessity of either conquering or dying. The battle lasted from morning till noon. The Spaniards on Hasdrubal’s right wing fought with the inborn bravery of their race against the legions of Livius. The Gauls on the left wing occupied an unassailable position. Nero, on the right wing of the Roman line, saw that he had no chance of producing an impression on them; he therefore shifted his position, marched with his men behind the rear of the Roman line to the left, and attacked the Spaniards in flank and rear. This manoeuvre decided the battle. The Gauls on Hasdrubal’s left wing appear to have behaved very badly. They did not avail themselves of Nero’s retreat for the purpose of pushing forward, but gave themselves up to sloth and rioting, and were afterwards found lying for the most part drunk and helpless on the ground, so that they could be slaughtered without offering resistance. When Hasdrubal saw his best troops falling under the overwhelming attack of the Romans and that all was lost, he rushed into the thickest throng of battle and was slain. Nothing was wanting to make the Roman victory complete. Ten thousand of the enemy, for the most part Spaniards, fell in the battle. The Gauls and Ligurians fled in the utmost disorder, and tried to gain their respective homes. Of ten elephants six were killed, four taken. The Carthaginian army was destroyed; and, for the first time in the course of the war, the Romans could boast that they had on Italian soil revenged the fatal day of Cannae.

Nero’s plan of marching northward had become known in Rome; the town had not ceased to be agitated with feverish excitement. Everybody felt that a decisive moment was approaching, and there were many who were far from approving Nero’s bold resolution. The senate remained assembled, day after day, from early morn until evening, supporting and counselling the civic magistrates; the people thronged the streets and especially the Forum; all the temples resounded with the prayers of the women. Suddenly an uncertain rumour ran through the crowd that a battle had been fought and a victory gained. But the hopes of the people had been deceived so often that they refused to believe what they wished for with agonising eagerness. Even a written despatch of Lucius Manlius, sent from Narnia, met with but partial credit. At last the news spread that three men of senatorial rant, delegated by the consuls, were approaching the city. The excitement of impatience now reached its highest point, and masses of the population rushed out of the gates to meet the messengers. Every man was anxious to be the first to hear certain news, and as the crowd picked up scraps of information from the messengers or their attendants, the joyful tidings travelled fast from lip to lip. Still no formal announcement was made, and slowly the messengers rode onwards through the swelling throng to the Forum. It was with difficulty that they could penetrate to the senate-house. The crowd pressed after them into the building, and could scarcely be kept from invading the sacred precincts where the senate was assembled. The official report of the consuls was at length read in the senate, and then Lucius Veturius stepped out into the Forum and communicated to the people the full tidings of victory—that the two consuls and the Roman legions were safe, the Punic army destroyed, and Hasdrubal, its leader, slain. Now all doubts were removed, and the people gave themselves up to boundless joy. The first feeling was that of gratitude to the gods. At last they had heard the prayers of their people, had overthrown the national enemy and saved Italy. The senate decreed the celebration of a public thanksgiving, which was to last three days. The Roman people, tired and sick of war, fondly nourished the fairest hopes of peace, and seemed almost to forget that Hannibal still occupied Italian soil, unconquered and terrible as ever.

From the field of battle on the Metaurus Nero marched, with the same rapidity with which he had come, back into his camp near Canusium, where Hannibal was still waiting for news from his brother. This news was now brought in an unlooked-for manner. Hasdrubal’s head was cast by the Romans before the feet of his outposts, and two Carthaginian captives, set free for this purpose by Nero, gave him an account of the disastrous battle which had wrecked all his hopes. When Hannibal recognised the bloody head of his brother he foresaw the fate of Carthage. He immediately broke up with his army, and marched southward into Bruttium, whither his victorious opponent did not venture to follow him. The war in Italy was now to all appearances decided. It was in the highest degree unlikely that Carthage would repeat the enterprise of another invasion of Italy, which had just signally failed. After the loss of Sardinia and Sicily, soon to be followed by that of Spain, it seemed to be of little use, in a military point of view, to retain any longer a corner of Italy, especially as an attack upon the Carthaginian possessions in Africa might now be expected. Nevertheless Hannibal could not make up his mind to leave of his own accord a country which had been the theatre of his great deeds, and where alone, as he was convinced, a mortal blow could be dealt at Rome. For four years longer he clung with astounding tenacity to the hostile soil, and for all this time his name and his unconquered arms continued to strike terror throughout Italy.

At the close of the year which determined the successful issue of the war, Rome had, for the first time after a long interval, days of national rejoicing, and the consuls celebrated a well-deserved triumph. After the fall of Syracuse the senate had refused to accord to Marcellus the triumph which he eagerly coveted, and an ovation on the Alban mount was but a poor substitute for the usual display of triumphal pomp within the walls of Rome. Fabius indeed had triumphed when he had been fortunate enough to get possession of Tarentum by the treachery of the Bruttian garrison. But, in spite of the great show of treasures and works of art which he displayed before the gazing multitude, nobody was deceived as to his real merits in a military point of view. Now at length Roman generals had fought a pitched battle and had overcome an enemy second in reputation only to Hannibal. The senate decreed that both consuls, as they had fought side by side, should be united in their triumph. They met at Praeneste, Livius at the head of his army, Nero alone, as his legions had been ordered to remain in the field to keep Hannibal in check. Livius entered the city on the triumphal car, drawn by four horses, as the real conqueror, because on the day of battle he had had the auspices, and the victory had been gained in his province. Nero accompanied him on horseback; but, though the formal honours accorded to him were inferior, the eyes of the crowd were chiefly directed on him, and he was greeted by the loudest applause, as the man to whose bold resolution the victory was principally due.

Sixth Period of the Hannihalian War.

FROM THE BATTLE ON THE METAURUS TO THE TAKING OF LOCRI, 207-205 B.C.

From the beginning of the war to the great victory at Cannae the star of Carthage had been in the ascendant. The defection of Capua, Syracuse, Tarentum, and numerous other allies of the Romans was the fruit of this rapid succession of victories. But the fortunes of Carthage did not rise higher, and soon the reconquest of Syracuse, of Capua, and of Tarentum marked the steps by which Rome gradually rose to her ancient superiority over her rival. The annihilation of Hasdrubal’s army was the severest blow which she had yet inflicted, and it proved the more disastrous to the cause of Carthage as Hasdrubal’s expedition into Italy had been effected only at the price of the virtual abandonment of Spain. Whatever may have been the tactical result of the battle of Baecula, in which Scipio claimed the victory, its results were, as far as he alone and the campaign in the Spanish peninsula were concerned, those of a great military success; for the best and largest portion of the Carthaginian forces in Spain withdrew immediately after and left him almost undisputed master of all the land from the Pyrenees to the Straits of Calpe (Gibraltar). An additional advantage for Scipio was, that on the withdrawal of the Punic army more and more of the Spanish tribes embraced the cause of the Romans, whose dominion had not yet had time to press heavily on them, and through whose help they hoped, in their simple-mindedness, to recover their independence. This vacillation of the Spanish character explains to some extent the sudden and wholesale vicissitudes of the war in that country. Nothing appeared easier than to conquer Spain; but nothing was, in reality, more difficult than to keep permanent possession of it. Thus the first Carthaginian conquests in Spain, under Hamilcar Barcas and his son-in-law Hasdrubal, had been effected with wonderful rapidity, owing to internal divisions among the Spanish tribes. Hannibal had, on his march to Italy, subdued, as he thought permanently, all the country between the Iberus and the Pyrenees; but the mere appearance of the Roman legions under the Scipios had swept away this acquisition, and in their very first campaigns the two Roman generals penetrated far to the south, into the heart of the Carthaginian possessions. When the Carthaginians were entirely expelled from Spain, it took the Romans two hundred years of hard fighting before they could say that the whole of Spain was in their possession and pacified. In the first ten years of the Hannibalian war they persistently reinforced their armies in Spain at the greatest cost, and their perseverance was not without its effect; for the hold that the Carthaginians had on Spain was materially weakened, and they could no longer draw from it the large supplies of soldiers and treasure which they had received from that country in the beginning of the war. It lost accordingly much of the importance which it had had in their eyes. Yet it was not entirely given up by them, even after Hasdrubal had evacuated it with the best part of the Carthaginian forces. Another Hasdrubal, the son of Gisco, a very able general, and Hannibal’s youngest brother Mago remained still at the head of respectable armies in Spain, and were receiving reinforcements from Africa. Nevertheless, it is not difficult to perceive that the power of Carthage was now on the wane. Not a single vigorous effort was made to regain what had been lost. The theatre of war was transferred more and more southward, into the neighbourhood of Gades, the last town of any importance which had remained of the whole of the Punic possessions in the peninsula. It seemed that the Carthaginians placed all their hopes of final success on the issue of the war in Italy, and that from the victory of the two sons of Barcas in Italy they expected the recovery of Spain as a natural consequence.

Under such circumstances the task of Scipio was comparatively easy; and however much his panegyrists endeavoured to extol his exploits in Spain and to represent him as a consummate hero, they have not succeeded in convincing us that, in a military point of view, he had an opportunity of accomplishing great things. We see clearly that the glory of Scipio is the engrossing topic of the writers who record the progress of affairs in Spain. His individual action is everywhere conspicuous. We can almost fancy that we are reading an epic poem in his honour, and some of the scenes described unmistakably betray their origin in the poetical imagination of the original narrator or in an actual poem. It is not difficult to discover these traces of poetry. But as we possess no strictly sober and authentic report of events by the side of the poetically coloured narrative, we are unable to separate fiction from truth by any but internal criteria, and in many instances this separation must be left to the tact and individual judgment of the critical reader.

On his first appearance in Spain, Scipio had won the hearts of the people. When, after the capture of New Carthage, they had seen his magnanimity and wisdom, their admiration for the youthful hero rose to such a height that they began to call him their king. At first Scipio took no notice of this. But when, after the battle of Baecula, he liberated the prisoners without ransom, and the Spanish nobles, seized with enthusiasm, solemnly proclaimed him their king, Scipio met them with the declaration that he claimed indeed to possess a royal spirit, but that, as a Roman citizen, he could not assume the royal title, but was satisfied with that of Imperator. Polybius makes this the opportunity for extolling Scipio’s moderation and republican sentiments, and he expresses surprise that he stretched out his hand to seize a crown neither on this occasion nor at a later period when, after the overthrow of Carthage and Syria, he had reached the height of glory, and ‘had free scope to obtain royal power in whatever part of the earth he wished’. This opinion, so unhesitatingly expressed by Polybius, is in the highest degree strange and startling. It proves beyond dispute that in his time, i.e. in the first half of the second century before our era, the establishment of monarchical government was a contingency which the imagination of the Romans did not place beyond the reach of possibility; that at any rate distinguished members of the nobility were reputed capable of aspiring to a position above the republican equality which befitted the majority of citizens. It is true we find this idea expressed by a Greek, who perhaps had no conception of the deep-seated horror with which a genuine Roman looked upon the power and the very name of a king, and whom the history of his own nation since the time of Alexander the Great had made familiar with the assumption of royal dignity by successful generals. Moreover, Polybius intimates that, in his opinion, Scipio might have made use of his influence and of circumstances to obtain royal authority, not in Rome, but in Spain, Asia, or elsewhere. Perhaps he thought such a regal or vice-regal position not incompatible with the duties of a Roman citizen and general, much, perhaps, as the men of the house of Barcas had been de facto kings in Spain, and had yet continued to serve the Carthaginian state as dutiful subjects; but, in spite of all these considerations, the judgment of Polybius, with regard to Scipio’s refusal of the royal title, must be looked upon as a sign of the times. It is the first faint shadow which coming events cast before them. The dominion of Rome over the provinces made it necessary to confer upon individuals from time to time monarchical powers; and these temporary powers were the steps to the throne of the Roman emperors. Spain was the first country that witnessed the autocratic power of Roman nobles; and it was in the family of the Scipios that this became first apparent. It grew from generation to generation, and under its weight the republic was crushed. There had been a time in Rome, and it was not far back, when not even the thought of the possibility of monarchical power could have been entertained by any one. In the Samnite wars, in the war with Pyrrhus, and in the first war with Carthage, the soul of every Roman was filled by the republican spirit alone.

Another form of government than that of the free republic was inconceivable in Rome, just as it is inconceivable at the present day in Switzerland and in the United States of America. All the accusations brought by the Roman annalists against Spurns Cassius, Spurius Maelius, and Marcus Manlius, for alleged attempts to seize monarchical power, are nothing but inventions of a later period. But this period begins, as we now see, after the Hannibalian war, when a writer like Polybius could find reason to praise Scipio for refusing the royal title and for abstaining from the assumption of royal authority.

In spite of the republican sentiments and the moderation which Scipio displayed with regard to the offer of the royal title, his conduct and demeanour showed a kind of royal bearing and of conscious superiority over his fellow-citizens. He was surrounded by something like a court on a small scale. His first confidential adviser and most trusty servant was Caius Laelius, who was employed especially to execute delicate commissions and deliver messages in Rome, to sound Scipio’s praise and to keep together his friends in the senate. Besides this diplomatic agency he was also intrusted with military duties, like Scipio’s elder brother Lucius, and like Caius Marcius, the brave tribune who in the year 212 had saved the remnants of the Roman army from utter destruction. Even the propraetor Marcus Junius Silanus received orders from him as if he were an imperial legate, whilst the commander-in-chief directed the movements of his inferiors from his head-quarters at Tarraco.

The year 207 B.C., which was so decisive for the war in Italy, seems not to have been marked by any noteworthy events in Spain. After Hasdrubal had marched with his army across the Pyrenees and Alps, it appears that the Carthaginians did not feel strong enough for any offensive operations, and Scipio too was weakened, as he had sent a part of his forces for the protection of Italy. He remained stationary in Tarraco, where he had wintered, and we hear only of a march of Laelius to Baetica in the extreme south of the peninsula, where he encountered and worsted Hannibal's brother Mago, and captured a Punic general named Hanno. The only other event assigned to this year is the taking of a place called Oringis, by Scipio’s brother Lucius, on which occasion 2,000 enemies and not more than ninety Romans are said to have fallen.

The succeeding year, 206 B.C., witnessed the total extinction of Punic dominion in Spain. Scipio had probably again reinforced his army after the battle on the Metaurus. The news of that victory produced a great effect in Spain, and gained new allies fur the Romans. Scipio marched again southwards, and met a second time at Baecula a large Carthaginian army under Hasdrubal, the son of Gisco, which, after a severe struggle, he compelled to retreat into its camp, and drove further and further south shortly after. Hereupon he returned by slow marches to Tarraco, leaving Silanus behind to pursue the broken hostile army. This army, it appears, dwindled away fast. The Spanish troops deserted and went to their respective homes, while the Punians retreated to the island town of Gades. Thus the war was brought to an end on the continent of Spain. Here, as well as in Sicily and Sardinia, the superior strength and perseverance of Rome had prevailed over the Carthaginian armies, which were apparently better led, but composed of worse materials.

The contagion of defection, which in great part had caused the loss of Spain, now began to attack the native African troops, which, more than any other portion of the Carthaginian armies, had hitherto been the terror of the legions. Masinissa, the brave Numidian prince, who a few years before had fought against the rebellious Syphax, and had since then rendered the most important services in Spain with his excellent cavalry, was beginning to find out, with the native shrewdness of a barbarian, that the cause of his friends and patrons was lost, and he was anxious, before it should be too late, to secure for himself a safe retreat into the camp of the conquerors. He was shut up in Gades with the remnant of the Carthaginian army, but found an opportunity of treating with Silanus, and is even related to have had a secret interview with Scipio himself, in which the terms of an alliance between him and Rome were discussed, and his co-operation was promised in case the war should be carried into Africa. Thus the first preparations were made for the execution of the plan which Scipio was already maturing in his mind, viz., of bringing the war to a conclusion in that country, where the most deadly blows could be inflicted on Carthage.

But before Masinissa’s help was quite secured, Scipio endeavoured to restore and to strengthen the amicable relations which for several years had existed between Rome and Syphax, the most powerful prince of the western Numidians or Massaesylians. In the year 215 Syphax had, in the hope of aid from Rome, taken up arms against Carthage. But he seems to have been left to his own resources, and the few Roman officers whom the two Scipios had sent to him from Spain had proved unable to convert his unruly Numidians into anything like a regular and steady infantry. He was accordingly worsted and expelled from his kingdom by the Carthaginians and their allies, the Numidians, under King Gula and his son Masinissa. Under what conditions the Carthaginians afterwards made peace with him and allowed him to return into his country, we are not informed. We hear only that, with the subtle treachery of a barbarian, he sent an embassy to Rome in 210, to assure the senate of his friendship, whilst he was in amicable relations with Carthage. The secret intrigues carried on with him and with Masinissa are not known to us. It may be that Scipio wished to gain the friendship and alliance of both. But it was in the nature of things that neither Rome nor Carthage could be on good terms with one of the two rivals without making an enemy of the other. The two Numidian chiefs could not be on the same side, for each of them aimed at obtaining exclusive possession of the whole of Numidia. As long as Masinissa was faithful in the service of the Carthaginians, Syphax tried to keep on good terms with Rome; but as soon as he heard that Masinissa had betrayed his friends and gone over to the Romans, it was no longer possible for him to remain in a neutral or even hostile position to Carthage. If one of the two Numidian chiefs turned to the right, it was necessary for the other to turn to the left. It was therefore a vain attempt on the part of Scipio to secure the co-operation of Syphax in the war with the Carthaginians after he had detached Masinissa from their aide.

Livy gives a long and graphic description of a dangerous voyage of Scipio to a Numidian port; of his meeting, by an extraordinary coincidence, with Hasdrubal, the son of Gisco, in the very house and at the table of Syphax; of negotiations there conducted, on which occasion Scipio's personal qualities again drew forth the admiration of his enemies, and lastly of an alliance concluded with Syphax. The whole of this narrative belongs, in all probability, to the domain of fiction. It looks like a rhapsody in the epic poem of the great Scipio. The facts related are nothing but the personal adventures of a few heroes; they have not the slightest influence on the course of events, and cannot even be made to harmonise with it. The alleged treaty with Syphax turns out to be a fable, and the Quixotic voyage to Africa cannot be fitted chronologically into the year 206. If therefore negotiations really took place between Scipio and Syphax, it is probable that Laelius, or some other confidential agent, was the negotiator, and not the com­mander-in-chief himself.

Not a whit more authentic, and not a whit more interesting as bearing on the course of events, is the detailed narrative given by Livy of the magnificent funeral games which Scipio celebrated in New Carthage in honour of his father and his uncle. The gladiatorial combats on this occasion were not of the kind usually exhibited in Rome at the funerals of great men. Instead of hired gladiators, free and noble Spaniards, who had offered themselves voluntarily and with a chivalrous zeal, fought with one another to do honour to the great Scipio. Nay, the mortal Combat was turned into an ordeal. Two kinsmen, rival claimants of a disputed crown, resolved to decide their quarrel by an appeal to arms, and at the same time to enhance the brilliancy of Scipio’s funeral games by their personal encounter. Scipio's refined humanity was of course revolted at this singular and atrocious suggestion; he sought to persuade the rivals to desist from their intention, but, being unable to do so, he consented at last to this singular trial by battle, which was at the same time a show for his troops, and in which one of the two princes was killed after a severe, and no doubt interesting, fight. What are we to think of historians who gravely accept such wild flights of imagination as actual facts, to be recorded in sober historical prose, and who dwell upon them with visible satisfaction? A single chapter of such history as this is sufficient to cast doubt on other stories connected with Scipio’s doings, even though they should not in themselves be fantastic or ridiculous.

When the Carthaginians had evacuated all Spain with the single exception of Gades, there remained nothing for Scipio to do but to make war upon those of the former Carthaginian allies who might not be found willing to exchange the dominion of one foreign and alien power for that of another, or upon those tribes which had distinguished themselves by their hostility to Rome. To the latter belonged the town of Illiturgi on the river Baetis. The inhabitants of this place, formerly subject to Carthage, had joined the Romans in the beginning of the war, but after the defeat of the two Scipios they had made their peace with Carthage, by killing the Roman fugitives who had fled into their town from the battlefield. This cruel treachery now called for vengeance. Illiturgi was taken by storm. All the men, women, and children were killed indiscriminately, and the town was levelled with the ground.

The neighbouring town of Castulo was treated less severely, because, terrified by the fate of Illiturgi, it had surrendered to Marcius and delivered up a Punic garrison. Marcius then marched upon Astapa (the modern Estepa, south of Astigi). This unfortunate town became the scene of one of those horrible outbreaks of frenzied patriotism and despair of which the natives of Spain in ancient and modern times have given several examples. The men of Astapa raised in their town a huge funeral pile, cast all their treasures on it, killed their wives and children, and let the flames consume all, whilst they themselves rushed against the enemy and fell in battle to the last man. They had had no choice left between this terrible end and the still more terrible one of Illiturgi, and they thought that the bitterness of death would be less at the hands of sacrificers than of butchers.

Hitherto Scipio had met with uninterrupted success. The Carthaginians were driven out of Spain; all the native peoples were subdued or had voluntarily joined the Roman cause; negotiations had been entered into with the two most powerful Numidian chiefs, who promised their assistance in the further prosecution of the war in Africa, when suddenly the promising result was jeopardised—for Scipio, the man on whom everything depended, was suddenly taken ill. Even the bare rumour of this calamity, exaggerating his illness the further it spread, caused disquietude in the whole province; and not only the fickle Spanish allies, but even the Roman legionary soldiers, unexpectedly evinced a spirit of insubordination and even mutiny. A body of eight thousand Roman soldiers, stationed near Sucro, had even before this time been animated by a bad spirit; they had complained that their pay was withheld, that they had been forbidden to despoil the Spaniards, and that they were kept too long on foreign service. Now, when the news of Scipio’s illness had reached them, their discontent broke out into open resistance to the orders of the legionary tribunes; they elected two private soldiers as their leaders, plundered the surrounding country, and seemed to be about to imitate the example of the Campanian legion in the war with Pyrrhus, in renouncing the authority of Rome, and in establishing somewhere an independent dominion of their own.

As yet, however, they had not been guilty of any open act of violence and bloodshed, and had ventured on no outrage against the majesty of Rome beyond the violation of military discipline and subordination, when the news arrived that Scipio was not dead, nor hopelessly ill, but that he had recovered, and that he ordered them to march to New Carthage, for the purpose of receiving the pay that was due to them. They obeyed, and were soon brought to their senses. Scipio caused them to be surrounded and disarmed by faithful troops, the ringleaders to be seized and executed, and order and discipline to be restored without further difficulty. The danger disappeared as if by magic, and it was shown again what a power Scipio possessed over the minds of his soldiers.

The mutiny of the army being suppressed, the rebellious Spaniards were soon punished. Scipio crossed the Ebro, penetrated into the land of the Ilergetes and Laretan, on the north side of this river, defeated the brothers Mardonius and Indibilis, and forced them to submission and to the payment of a sum of money.

Before the year closed, Gades fell into the hands of the Romans. For a regular siege of this strong island town, Scipio would have needed not only a considerable army but also a large fleet. But he could not avail himself of his ships, as he had taken the rowers from them to employ on land service. He sought, therefore, to gain the town by treason, a plan which had succeeded in so many instances, and which promised an easier and speedier result. Negotiations were begun. In Gades, as well as in all places occupied by the Carthaginians, it was easy to find traitors who declared their readiness to deliver the town, as well as the Punic garrison, into the hands of the Romans. But the plot was discovered, and the ring­leaders were seized and sent to Carthage, to await their punishment. Nevertheless, the Carthaginians seem to have despaired of holding Gades permanently. The inhabitants were Punians, but not Carthaginians. They were in the condition of subject allies, a condition which was, no doubt, felt to be burthensome and unsatisfactory. They took very little interest in the struggle for supremacy between Rome and Carthage, for neither the one state nor the other allowed them an independent position. Perhaps the commercial rivalry of Carthage was considered to interfere with the prosperity of Gades, whilst nothing was to be apprehended from Rome on this score; and the whole trade in the western seas was, after the humiliation of Carthage, sure to fall into the hands of Gades, under the protection of the Romans. Such dispositions as these, on the part of the population of Gades, would explain the severity with which Mago was ordered by the home government to treat the town—a severity which could aim not at maintaining possession of Gades, but at exacting from it mercilessly the means for continuing the war with Rome, and then giving it up. Mago plundered not only the public treasury and the temples, but even private citizens, and then left the port of Gades with the whole fleet and all the forces. In this undignified way the Carthaginians abandoned the last hold they still had on Spanish soil. Gades, of course, opened its gates to the Romans, and obtained favourable conditions of peace, under which it continued for a long time to flourish, as an allied city, subject indeed to Rome, but enjoying perfect freedom in the management of its own local affairs.

Thus Spain was lost, not in consequence of a great decisive battle, but by the gradual retreat and exhaustion the of the Carthaginians. The last effort for the defence of Spain had been made when Hasdrubal Barcas appeared with the Spanish army on Italian soil. It was on the Metaurus that the Romans conquered Spain, and Scipio had nothing to do but to follow the traces of the wounded lion to the last recesses, and to scare him away. Before the year closed, he could look upon this task as done. He intrusted the chief command to his legate, M. Junius Silanus, and returned to Rome, accompanied by Laelius, to secure his election for the consulship of the ensuing year, and to mature his plans for carrying the war into Africa.

The hopes which Hannibal had entertained from the alliance and co-operation of King Philip of Macedon had not been realised. Instead of taking an active part in the operations in Italy, where his excellent Macedonian troops would infallibly have decided the war in favour of the allied powers soon after the battle of Cannae, Philip attacked those countries on the east of the Adriatic for which he had stipulated as his share of the booty after the defeat of Rome, taking it apparently for granted that, even without his help, Hannibal would be able to accomplish the conquest of Italy. He succeeded in gaining considerable advantages in Illyria, and, regarding himself as already undisputed master of the countries north of the Ambracian Gulf, he seemed to be bent on changing the influence which he enjoyed, as the protector of some of the Greek states, into a real dominion over all. He laid aside more and more the qualities of a leader of the Greeks, and assumed those of an Asiatic despot. The amiable character which he had exhibited in his youth gave way to low voluptuousness, falsity, and cruelty when he had become a man. He forfeited the confidence and attachment of his best friends, the Achaeans, when he endeavoured, by cunning and cruelty, to keep possession of Messenia. The royal debauchee was not ashamed, whilst he was a guest in the house of his old friend Aratos, to dishonour the wife of his son, and, when Aratos reproached him, to cause his death by poison. The old jealousy and all the passions and internal disputes of the Greeks, which were to have been buried for ever by the peace of Naupaktos, in 217, revived at once, and it was not difficult for the Romans to kindle again the flames of war, and then to leave the king of Macedonia so much to do in his own country that he was obliged to give up the attempt of a landing in Italy.

There is little use in attempting to determine who was guilty of having caused the interference of Rome in the internal affairs of Greece. Owing to the prevalence of small independent states, the spirit of nationality could not embrace all the Greek peoples, and bind them durably together for common action against any enemies whatever. No abstract considerations of public morality or national duty ever prevented any Greek community from seeking the alliance of a foreign power; they accepted it without the least scruple, if it promised immediate material advantages. Few Greeks ever felt patriotic scruples in availing themselves of Persian money or Macedonian troops to strike down their own immediate neighbours and Hellenic compatriots. Even the great national struggle against Asiatic barbarism, under Miltiades and Themistokles, had not united all the Greeks in their common cause, and since that time no equally grand national enthusiasm had raised them above the petty jealousies of local interests. A short time before the interference of the Romans, the Achaean league had appealed to the Macedonians, and made them the arbitrators in the internal affairs of Hellas. If, therefore, on the present occasion, the Aetolians called in the Romans, we can only condemn them of having committed a sin against their own nation which none of the other Greeks would have scrupled to commit, a sin which is the inevitable curse of internal division in every nation of ancient or modern times.

Nevertheless we must acknowledge that the league which the Aetolians now concluded with the Romans was distinguished by peculiar turpitude. It was an engagement by which the whole Aetolian people became Roman mercenaries, and stipulated that their hire should be the plunder of the neighbouring Greek cities. They agreed to make common cause with the Romans, like a band of robbers. The Romans were to furnish ships, the Aetolians troops; the conquered countries and towns were to become the spoil of the Aetolians, the movable booty that of the Romans. If we recollect that this ‘movable booty’ included the inhabitants who might fall into the hands of the conquerors, and who would consequently be sold into slavery, we shall duly appreciate the sense of national dignity that could animate the Aetolians and induce them to conclude so disgraceful an alliance with foreign barbarians for the enslaving of their countrymen. And even this conduct might perhaps have been excused or palliated to some extent if extreme danger, or the necessity of self-defense, had urged the Aetolians, as a last resource, to secure foreign help on these terms. But it was, in truth, nothing but their native robber instinct that induced them, instead of honestly cultivating their fields, to plough with the spear and to reap with the sword. They succeeded by their league with the Romans once more in setting Greece in a blaze of war, in filling the whole length and breadth of the land with untold misery, and in preparing for subjection to a foreign yoke the nation which, would not submit to the discipline of a national state. Our indignation at their conduct is mingled with a feeling of satisfaction when we remember that they were the first, to feel the weight of this yoke, and that they were almost driven to despair and madness when they felt how galling it was.

After the fall of Syracuse and Capua, M. Valerius Laevinus crossed over to Greece with a fleet of fifty ships and one legion, and made his appearance in the popular assembly of the Aetolians, the leading men of which had been previously persuaded to favour the Roman proposals. He found no difficulty in prevailing upon them to renew the war with Philip, as he held out the prospect of conquering the Acarnanian country, which they had coveted for a long time, and of regaining the numerous towns taken from them by the Macedonians. It was supposed that all would join the alliance who, from their own interest, or from old hostility, were the natural enemies of Macedonia, such as the Thracian barbarians in the north, the chiefs Pleuratus and Skerdilaidas in Illyria, the Messenians, Eleans, and Lacedaemonians in Peloponnesus; lastly, in Asia, King Attalus of Pergamum, who, feeling unsafe in his precarious position between the two great monarchies of Macedonia and Syria, welcomed the Romans as his patrons, and thus made an opening for their diplomacy to interfere in the political affairs of the distant East. Valerius promised to assist the Aetolians with a fleet of at least twenty-five ships, and both parties engaged not to conclude a separate peace with Macedonia. Thus the Romans had let loose upon Philip a pack of hounds, numerous enough to keep him at bay in his own country and to prevent him from thinking of an invasion of Italy. They were relieved from all anxiety on this score, and were not even obliged to make great efforts for the defence of their eastern coast.

It is not necessary for us to follow in detail the course of the war in Greece. It was marked, not by great decisive actions, but by a number of petty conflicts and barbarous atrocities, by which the strength of the nation was sapped and wasted. The source of the greatest calamities was this, that the hostile territories were not compact masses, separated from one another by a single line of frontier, but detached pieces, scattered about irregularly, and intermingled in the Peloponnesus, in central Greece, and on the islands. Thus the war was not confined to one locality, but raged simultaneously in every quarter. In the Peloponnesus the Achaeans were harassed continuously by the Aetolians and the Lacedaemonians, who, in this last period of their independence, had exchanged their venerable hereditary monarchy and their aristocratic constitution for the government of a tyrant. The proud Spartans, formerly the sworn enemies and opponents of tyranny in all parts of Greece, had at last succumbed to a tyrant themselves. Machanidas, a brave soldier, had made himself their master, and exercised a military despotism in a state which at one time appeared to the wisest of the Greeks the model of political institutions. The coasts of the Corinthian Gulf and the Aegaean Sea were visited by Roman, Aetolian, and Pergamenian fleets, that plundered and devastated the towns and carried away the inhabitants into slavery. From the north, hordes of barbarians broke in upon Macedonia. Philip was compelled to hasten from one place to another. When he was confronting the Thracians, he was called away by messengers to protect his Peloponnesian allies; and scarcely had he marched southwards, when his hereditary dominions were invaded by Illyrians and Dardanians. He conducted this difficult war not without vigour and ability, and succeeded, by his restless activity and quickness, in showing himself superior to his enemies in every part, in driving back Pleuratus and Skerdilaidas in Illyria, in beating the Aetolians (210 B.C.) near Lamia, and chasing them into their own country. Attalus of Pergamum was surprised by Philip, near the town of Opus, which he had taken and was just in the act of plundering. Barely managing to escape captivity, he returned into Asia, and, being occupied in disputes with his neighbour, King Prusias of Bithynia, paid no more attention to the affairs of Greece. The Romans took very little part in the war. Under these circumstances, some of the neutral powers, the Rhodians and the king of Egypt, almost succeeded, as early as 208 B.C., in bringing about the restoration of peace between King Philip and the Aetolians. But the Romans made the negotiations abortive by now resuming the war with increased vigour on their part. After a short armistice, hostilities were continued; and if Philip had possessed a respectable fleet, he would have had no difficulty in reducing the exhausted Aetolians to submission. In 200 B.C. he penetrated a second time to Thermon, the capital of their country. His allies, the Achaeans, under the command of the able general Philopoemen, gained a decisive victory over the Spartans, in which the tyrant Machanidas was killed; and as the Romans neglected more and more to render the services to which they had bound themselves in the treaty, the Aetolians were compelled at last, in 205 B.C., to conclude a separate peace with Macedonia, in formal violation of their engagements with Rome.

On his return from Spain in the year 206, Scipio entertained not unfounded hopes that, at an age when other men began to prepare themselves for the higher military commands and offices of state, he would be rewarded with a triumph, the greatest distinction to which a Roman citizen could aspire, as the crowning honour of a life devoted to the public service. He had not indeed been invested with a regular magistracy. Without having been praetor he had been sent to Spain, with an extraordinary command as propraetor; nor had any but the regular magistrates ever celebrated a triumph. But the Hannibalian war had made people familiar with many innovations, and among these innovations, Scipio’s extraordinary command was so prominent that the concession of a triumph, as a natural consequence of it, seemed hardly likely to meet with any serious opposition. In the temple of Bellona accordingly, before the walls of the city, Scipio enumerated before the assembled senate all his exploits in Spain; he told them how many battles he had fought, how many towns he had taken, what nations he had brought under the dominion of the Roman people, and, though he did not distinctly ask for a triumph, he expected that the senate would of its own accord decree the honour he so much coveted. But he was disappointed. His opponents insisted that there was no valid reason for departing from the old custom, and Scipio had to content himself with displaying as much pomp and show as he could when he made his entry into Rome as a private citizen, without the solemn formalities of a triumph. Hereupon the consular elections for the next year took place amidst unusual activity on the part of the people. From all parts the Roman citizens came in great numbers, not only to vote, but simply to see the great Scipio. They thronged round his house, followed him to the Capitol, where, in fulfilment of a vow made in Spain, he offered a sacrifice of a hundred oxen. He was unanimously elected consul by all the centuries, and in their imagination the people saw him already carrying the war into Africa and ending it with the destruction of Carthage.

But the senate was far from exhibiting the enthusiasm and unanimity of the people. The friends and adherents of Scipio found themselves opposed by independent men who did not possess unbounded confidence in him, and who thought there was too much risk in an attack upon Africa so long as Hannibal had not evacuated Italy. At the head of these men was the aged Q. Fabius Maximus. His system of a pertinacious defensive warfare and of a slow and cautious advance to the offensive had so far proved eminently successful. By it Hannibal had gradually been compelled to give up central Italy and to full back upon the narrow peninsula of Bruttium. Fabius could see no cause why this system should now be abandoned. It was to be expected that, if it was persisted in for some time longer, Hannibal would lose Thurii, Locri, and Croton, the last strongholds in his power, and would thus be compelled to retire from Italy. But if, in order to carry the war into Africa, Italy were drained of troops, it might be apprehended that Hannibal would again sally forth from Bruttium and threaten Samnium, Campania, or Latium.

The plan of Scipio and his party was, without any doubt, grander and more worthy of the Roman people. It was reasonable to expect that a vigorous attack on the Carthaginians in Africa would at once lead to the recall of Hannibal from Italy. Moreover it had ever been the custom of the Romans to attack their enemies in their own country. It was thus that they had warred in ancient times with the Etruscans, the Latins, and the Samnites. They had gone as far as Heraclea and Beneventum to meet Pyrrhus. In the first Punic war they had made Sicily the battlefield, and in the second they had sent out their armies and fleets to Spain and across the Adriatic. It is true they had not forgotten the Caudine passes, nor the rout of Regulus in Africa; but, after all, the greatest calamities had broken upon Rome when her enemies had been allowed to approach her too near, on the Allia, near the Thrasymenus, and at Cannae. The time had come at last when they could attempt that expedition to Africa which had been part of the original plan of the Romans, and which the consul Sempronius had actually been commissioned to undertake in the first year of the war. At that time Hannibal’s invasion of Italy had thwarted this well-considered plan. But now Hannibal was so enfeebled that two consular armies were sufficient to keep him in check; he barely maintained himself in Bruttium; the remainder of Italy was free from danger; in Sicily, Sardinia, and Spain the war was practically at an end; in Macedonia, where it had never been serious, it could at any time be ended by the conclusion of peace. It was therefore most assuredly the time now to abandon the Fabian principle of cautious defence, which was calculated to prolong indefinitely the excitement, the disquiet, and the sufferings of the war, and to gather up the whole energy of the nation for a bold decisive blow, as the previous generation had done with glorious success in the Sicilian war.

It cannot be doubted that the most weighty arguments brought forward against this plan were based on the presence of Hannibal in Italy, who, though terribly exhausted and left almost without resources, still shielded his country by the mere terror of his name. If personal satisfaction and his own glory, so distinctly acknowledged by his enemies, could have been a compensation to him for the wreck of his hopes, he must surely have been consoled and even gratified in watching this involuntary tribute to his greatness. But it was his ambition to establish the greatness of his country, and he knew no personal glory apart from the prosperity and independence of Carthage.

The majority in the senate were not favourable to Scipio’s plans. He had foreseen this, and he was prepared to carry out his project without the consent, and, if necessary, against the will, of the senate. It was rumoured that he intended to avail himself of the favourable disposition of the masses, and to obtain, without the authority of the senate, a decision of the popular assembly by which he would be commissioned to carry the war into Africa and to raise the necessary forces. Such a procedure would not have been unconstitutional, but it would have been contrary to the usual practice, which had almost the power of law, and by which the chief direction of the war, and especially the distribution of the provinces, was left entirely to the discretion of the senate. This body was therefore thrown into great consternation when Scipio showed himself resolved, as a last resource, to set their authority at naught, and to appeal to the decision of the people. Violent debates took place, and at last the plebeian tribunes effected a compromise by which Scipio abandoned the idea of provoking a decision of the people, and promised to be guided by a decree of the senate, on the understanding, however, that the senate would not oppose his plan in principle. Hereupon the senate resolved to give permission to Scipio for crossing over from Sicily into Africa; but they voted means so inadequate for carrying out this plan that Scipio was obliged first to create for himself an army and a fleet before he could hope to carry out his design with any chance of success. By this decision, the obstructive party in the senate had, at any rate, postponed his expedition, and they might hope that in the meanwhile events would happen to make a landing in Africa unnecessary.

Scipio’s colleague in the consulship was Publius Licinius Crassus, who, being at the same time pontifex maximus, was not permitted to leave Italy. He was therefore commissioned, in conjunction with a praetor, and at the head of four legions, to operate in Bruttium, where he had to watch and keep Hannibal in check, but where, during the whole course of the year, nothing of importance took place. Scipio had assigned to him only thirty ships of war and the two legions composed of the fugitive troops of Cannae and Herdonea. No conscription was ordered for new troops to serve under Scipio; but he was allowed to enlist volunteers, and to call upon the towns of Etruria to contribute materials for the fitting out of a fleet. Thus a force of about 7,000 men was collected, especially in Umbria, the country of the Sabines, Marsians, and Pelignians. The town of Camerinum, in Umbria, alone sent a cohort of 600 men. Other towns contributed arms, provisions, and various articles for the fleet; Caere gave corn, Populonia iron, Tarquinii sail-cloth, Volaterae timber and corn. Arretium, with a liberality and zeal prompted perhaps by the desire of proving its doubted fidelity, supplied thousands of helmets, shields, lances, various utensils, and provisions; Perusia, Clusium, and Rusellae gave corn and timber. It is an agreeable surprise for us to find these towns, some of which appeared to have fallen into decay or oblivion, taking an active part in the war; and the inference is justified that Etruria had, in comparative obscurity, enjoyed some of the blessings of peace.

By their contributions Scipio was enabled to order the building of thirty new ships, and he went to Sicily, there to complete his preparations. Besides the two legions from Cannae and Herdonea, he found in Sicily a great number of the old soldiers of Marcellus, who after their discharge had apparently remained in Sicily of their own accord, had squandered the booty made in war, and, disdaining to return to a life of honest toil and civil order, were ready to try again the fortune of battle. The long war could not fail to create a kind of professional soldiery, consisting of men who had become unfit for agriculture and other peaceful pursuits and who began to look upon war as their trade. The licentiousness and savagery into which some portions of the Roman armies had by that time fallen had been shown by the mutiny of Scipio’s soldiers in Spain; but the doings of these mutineers were soon, thrown into the shade by atrocities of a far more hideous and alarming character, which betrayed the existence of the most dangerous elements in the ranks. The incidents in Locri formed only, as it were, an intermezzo in the grand drama of the war, and did not essentially influence the course of events and the final issue; but they are too highly characteristic of the public morals of the time to be passed over in silence, especially as it is of far more importance for us to form a picture of the moral and intellectual status of the Roman people than to follow the details of battles, to which, for the most part, little credit is to be given.

In spite of the attempts to take Locri which the Romans had made since 208, it was still in Hannibal’s possession, and was now his principal base of operations in Bruttium. The Roman partisans among the Locrians had fled from the town when it revolted to the Carthaginians, and had betaken themselves chiefly to the neighbouring town of Rhegium. From that place they opened communications with some of their countrymen at home, and the latter promised to admit Roman troops by means of ladders into the citadel. The treason was carried into effect in the usual way. As soon as the citadel was in the power of the Romans, the town joined their cause; the Punic garrison retired into a second citadel in another part of the town, where it was at last compelled to surrender. This successful surprise was planned and executed not by the consul Licinius, who commanded in Bruttium, but by Scipio, who was at that time commanding in Sicily, because Hannibal and his army, standing between Locri and the four legions in Bruttium, prevented Licinius from penetrating into the neighbourhood, whilst the nearness of Rhegium and Messana favoured the plan of making an attack upon Locri from Sicily.             

Thus it happened that Scipio had the good fortune and the merit of gaining an important advantage beyond the limits of his own province. With this step, however, he also took upon himself the responsibility of the further proceedings at Locri, and these were of such a nature that they offered an occasion to his enemies for questioning his ability as a general in one essential point. He caused the chiefs of the Carthaginian party in Locri to be put to death, and their property to be distributed among their political opponents. If he had stopped here, nobody would have blamed him, for, according to the prevailing principle of justice, he had not been guilty of undue severity. But such a measure of punishment did not satisfy the rapacity of his troops. These troops, treating Locri like a town taken by assault, not only plundered it, but indulged against the wretched inhabitants of both sexes their beastly lusts and their sanguinary ferocity. At last they broke open the temples and ransacked even the sanctuary of Proserpina, which, though lying unprotected before the town, had hitherto been respected by enemies and even by vulgar robbers. The legate Pleminius, who had been intrusted by Scipio with the command in Locri, not only permitted all these atrocities, but took his share in the plunder and protected the plunderers. Two legionary tribunes, called Sergius and Matienus, who were under his orders, strove to check the violence of the soldiers. A fight took place between the soldiers of the two tribunes and the rest. Pleminius openly took the part of the licentious plunderers, ordered Sergius and Matienus to be seized, and was on the point of causing them to be executed by his lictors when their soldiers arrived in larger numbers, rescued the tribunes, ill-treated the lictors, seized Pleminius, slit up his lips, and cut off his nose and ears. All bonds of military discipline were cast aside, and the Roman soldiers had become a riotous rabble.

Upon the news of these disgraceful and alarming proceedings, Scipio hastened from Messana to Locri, re-established order, and, acquitting Pleminius of all guilt, left him in command at Locri, whilst he ordered the tribunes Sergius and Matienus to be seized as ringleaders of the mutiny and to be sent to Rome for trial. This done he immediately returned to Sicily. He was scarcely gone when Pleminius gave full vent to his revenge, and, instead of sending the two tribunes to Rome, caused them to be scourged and put to death, after exquisite tortures. Then he turned with the same barbarous fury against the most distinguished citizens of Locri, who, as he was informed, had accused him before Scipio. Some of these unfortunate men escaped to Rome. They threw themselves in the dust before the tribunal of the consuls in the Forum, imploring protection for their lives and property, and mercy for their native town. The senate was greatly moved by proceedings so dishonourable to the Roman name. It seemed that Scipio himself could not be free from guilt. He was certainly responsible for the discipline of his soldiers, and he seemed tacitly to approve of the atrocities of Pleminius, which he had not punished. It was not the first time that such disorders had broken out among troops under his command, though the insubordination of his soldiers in Spain was trifling compared with what had happened now. His political enemies, numerous and influential in the senate, charged him with corrupting the spirit of the army, and insisted that he should be recalled from his command. The lamentations of the wretched Locrians called forth general sympathy, and their undeserved sufferings demanded redress and satisfaction. After a long and angry discussion, Scipio's friends at last were so far successful that he was not condemned without a previous investigation. The praetor Marcus Pomponius was dispatched to Locri with a commission of ten senators to send Pleminius and the associates of his guilt for trial to Rome, to restore to the people of Locri the plunder which the soldiers had taken, more especially to set free the women and children, who had been treated as slaves, to replace doubly the treasures taken from the temples, and to appease the anger of Proserpina by sacrifices; moreover to inquire if the lawless actions of the troops in Locri had been committed with the knowledge and consent of Scipio, and if this should be proved, to bring back Scipio from Sicily, and even from Africa, to Rome. For this purpose two tribunes of the people and an aedile were added to the commission, who, by virtue of their sacred office, should, in case of necessity, seize the general, even in the midst of his troops, and convey him away. When the commission had reached Locri, and, after discharging the first part of their duty, had expressed to the Locrians the regret and sympathy of the Roman senate and people, as well as the assurance of their friendship, the Locrians did not further insist on their charges against Scipio, and thus saved the commission a delicate and perhaps difficult task. It is not stated, but we may perhaps be justified in supposing, that this generous resignation on the part of the Locrians was the result of an expressed or implied wish on the part of the commissioners, and could be obtained by a very gentle pressure, even if the Locrians did not see how desirable it was to avoid the hostility of a powerful Roman noble like Scipio, and of his party. The commission therefore came to the conclusion that Scipio had no share in the crimes committed at Locri, and Pleminius only was brought to Rome, with about thirty of his accomplices. The trial was conducted with great laxity, and Scipio’s friends hoped that the excitement of the public would gradually cool down, and that by delaying the decision as much as possible they would in the end secure impunity for the accused. But this intention was foiled by Pleminius himself, who, in his audacious recklessness, went so far as to cause some ruffians to set fire to Rome in several places during a public festivity, in the hope of escaping in the general confusion. The conspiracy miscarried, and Pleminius was thrown into the dismal Tullianum, the prison vault under the Capitol, from which he never came forth again. He was dead before his trial in the popular assembly came on. Whether he died of hunger, or by the hands of the executioner, and what became of his accomplices, is not known.

The senatorial commission proceeded from Locri to Sicily, to be convinced by their own eyes of the condition of Scipio’ s army. Here they found everything in good order, and they were able to report to Rome that nothing was omitted to secure the success of the African expedition. Scipio had done all in his power to organise and to increase his army, and to furnish it with all the materials of war. For this purpose he disposed of the resources of Sicily without the least limitation, but, owing to the obstructive economy of the Roman senate, and its evident disapproval of the African expedition, he was prevented from making his preparations as fast as he wished. The whole of the year 205 passed away before he was ready. In the course of it Laelius had sailed with thirty ships to the African coast, probably for the purpose of concerting measures with Syphax and Masinissa for the impending combined attack on Carthage. But the two Numidian chiefs, as was to be expected, had ranged themselves on two opposite sides. As soon as Masinissa had openly declared himself in favour of Rome, Syphax was not only reconciled with Carthage, but closely allied with it; and the first use he made of this accession of strength was to make war upon his troublesome rival Masinissa, and to expel him from his country. Accordingly, when Laelius landed at Hippo, he found Masinissa, not as he had hoped, in the position of a powerful ally, but of a helpless exile, wandering about at the head of a few horsemen, and so far from being able to render active help, that he implored the Romans to hasten their expedition into Africa, in order to rescue him from his position. We do not know what impression this alteration in the state of things produced on Laelius and Scipio. By it the hope of Numidian support was considerably reduced; especially when Syphax soon afterwards formally announced his alliance with Carthage, and warned Scipio against an undertaking in which he would have to encounter not only the Carthaginians, but also the whole power of Numidia.

These incidents were in themselves calculated to show the difficulties and dangers of an African expedition, and to justify the hesitation of those cautious men of the Fabian school who shrunk from the bold plan of Scipio. At the same time the Carthaginians made another desperate effort to keep the Roman forces at home for the defence of Italy. It does not indeed appear from our sources that they sent direct reinforcements to Hannibal, but they would attain the same object if they repeated the attempt of penetrating with an army into the north of Italy, and thus threatening Rome from two sides. For this purpose Mago, Hannibal’s youngest brother, after the evacuation of Spain, spent the winter from 206 to 205 in the island of Minorca, occupied in raising a new army; and in the summer of 205, whilst Scipio was busy in Sicily with the preparations for his African expedition, he sailed with 14,000 men to the coast of Liguria, took Genoa, called upon the Ligurians and Gauls to renew the war with Rome, swelled his army with volunteers from their ranks, and marched into Cisalpine Gaul, in order to advance from thence southwards as from his base of operations. In Rome nothing less was apprehended than a repetition of the danger from which the unexpected victory on the Metaurus had saved the republic. Again were two sons of Hamilcar Barcas in Italy, determined, with united strength, to accomplish the object which they had set before themselves as the chief task of their lives. Carthage, far from pursuing the suicidal policy, as has since been asserted, of leaving Hannibal without support, strained every nerve to carry out his plans, and even at this moment, when Africa was threatened with invasion, despatched to Mago a reinforcement of 6,000 foot and eight hundred horse. From the Roman point of view it was therefore not an unreasonable wish to keep together as much, as possible the military strength of exhausted Italy, so that at all risks Rome might be covered before a decisive attack should be directed against Carthage.

The decision and firmness of character which Scipio exhibited in his opposition to all hindrances and difficulties mark him as a man of unusual power. He was capable of bold conceptions, and without heeding secondary considerations, he went on straight to the object he had proposed to himself. By this concentration of his will he accomplished great things, though in other respects he did not rise far above the average level of the military capacity displayed by Roman generals. The African expedition was due to him and to him alone. He had planned it when he was in Spain, and he carried it out in spite of the determined resistance of a powerful opposition in the senate. Half a year had been taken up with preparations. Now, in the spring of 204 B.C., the army and the fleet were collected at Lilybaeum. Four hundred transports and forty ships of war crowded the port. The statements of the strength of the army vary from 12,500 to 35,000 men. According to the annalist Coelius, quoted by Livy, the number of men who went on board the transports was so great that it seemed that Sicily and Italy must be drained of their population, and that, from the cheering of so many thousands, the birds dropped from the air on the ground. It can hardly be doubted that such bombastic phrases were taken from some poetical narrative of the embarkation. The same poetical colouring can be traced in other features of Livy’s account. When all the ships were ready to sail, Scipio caused a herald to command silence, and pronounced a solemn prayer to all the gods and goddesses, wherein he implored them to grant him protection, victory, spoils, and a happy and triumphant return, after inflicting on the Carthaginian people all those evils with which they had threatened the commonwealth of Rome. Then he cast the crude entrails of the sacrificial animal into the sea, and ordered the trumpets to give the signal for departure. The walls of Lilybaeum and the whole coast on the right and on the left were lined with spectators, who had assembled from all parts of Sicily, and followed the fleet with their hopes and forebodings until it vanished on the horizon. Many squadrons had left Lilybaeum in the course of the war, but never such an armada, which carried with it the vows of all Italy for the speedy termination of the struggle. Yet, compared with the colossal fleets of the first Punic war, the fleet of Scipio was almost insignificant. When the two consuls Marcus Regulus and Lucius Manlius sailed with their combined armies to Africa in 256 B.C., the ships of war alone equalled in number the total of Scipio’s fleet, and the army was then twice or three times as large as now. But in the year 256 Italy had not been wasted, as in 204, by a war of fourteen years, and no Roman army had then perished in Africa. Now it was known what dangers the legions might have to encounter, and their fears were consequently intensified for the much smaller force which had undertaken to revenge Regulus and Rome.

In spite of the long preparations for the African expedition, which were well known in Carthage, in spite of the certainty that it would sail from Lilybaeum, and in spite of the apparent ease with which from the port of Carthage a fleet might have sailed to intercept the passage of the numerous transports and to overpower the forty ships of war, Scipio met no resistance on the part of the Carthaginians, and landed undisturbed, on the third day, near the Fair Promontory, close to Utica.

Seventh Period of the Hannibalian War.

THE WAR IN AFRICA TO THE CONCLUSION OF PEACE, 204-201 B.C.

The details of the short war in Africa would, if faithfully recorded, be amongst the most attractive and the most interesting of the whole struggle. We should learn from them more of the conduct of the Carthaginian people than from all the campaigns in Italy, Sicily, Sardinia, and Spain. A veil would be lifted, so that we could look into the interior of that great city, where the nerves of the widely extended state met as in a central point. We should see how nobles and people, senate, officials, and citizens thought, felt, and acted at the near approach of the final decision of the war. We should become acquainted with the spirit which moved the Carthaginian people, and should be able in some measure to judge what the fate of the old world would have been if Carthage, instead of Rome, had been victorious. But in place of a history of the African war, we have only reports and descriptions of the victorious career of Scipio, drawn up by one-sided Roman patriotism. Only the great and leading events are ascertainable with any degree of certainty. The details, which might have enabled us to judge of the manner in which the war was conducted, of the plans, exertions, sacrifices, and losses of both belligerents, are either entirely lost, or are disguised by party spirit. At no period of the war do we more keenly feel the want of a Carthaginian historian.

Scipio’s object, in the first instance, was the gaining a strong position on the coast, where, by means of a secure communication with Sicily, he could establish a firm basis for his operations in Africa. For this purpose he selected Utica, the ancient Phoenician colony allied with Carthage, and situated on the western side of the wide Carthaginian gulf. During the war with the mercenaries Utica had fallen into the hands of the enemies of Carthage, but after the suppression of the rebellion she was again most intimately connected with Carthage. In spite of the burdens which the campaigns of Hannibal imposed on the Carthaginians, as also upon their allies and subjects, we hear of no revolt or discontent on their part, such as broke out in Italy among the Capuans and among many others. Up to the time of the landing of Scipio, it is true, the Romans had only appeared on the African coast now and then, to ravage and plunder rather than to make war. No Roman Hannibal had established himself in the interior of the country, or challenged the allies to revolt from Carthage. For this reason Scipio might entertain the hope that, after the great exhaustion and the innumerable troubles of the war, the subjects of Carthage would be ready to revolt now, as they had been during the invasions of Agathokles and Regulus. Perhaps he thought thus to obtain easy possession of Utica.

But it appears that the state of things in Africa was this time different. The reason is unknown to us; but the fact is certain that Scipio found among the Carthaginian subjects no readiness for revolt or treachery. Utica had to he besieged in due form, and it offered such determined resistance that the siege—which lasted, with occasional pauses, almost to the conclusion of peace, that is, nearly two years—remained without result. If Scipio had been so fortunate as to take Utica, many particulars of this remarkable siege would no doubt have been preserved. But the Roman chroniclers passed briefly over an undertaking which contributed in no way to swell their national renown, and the Carthaginian writings, which would have exhibited in a proper light the bravery of the Uticans, are unfortunately lost. We know therefore but little of an event which was of the very greatest importance to the war in Africa, and what has been preserved cannot be considered authentic in detail, because it comes from Roman sources.

After Scipio had landed his army, he took up a strong position on a hill near the sea, and repulsed the attack of a troop of cavalry, which had been sent out from Carthage to reconnoitre, on the news of a hostile landing. He then sent his transport ships, laden with the spoils of the surrounding open country, back to Sicily, and advanced to Utica, where, at the distance of about a mile from the town, he established his camp. After a short time the transport ships returned from Sicily, bringing the remainder of the siege train, which Scipio, from want, of room, had not been able to take with him before. The siege was now begun, and it appears to have lasted the whole summer without any considerable interruption. Scipio took up his position on a hill close to the walls of the town, and attacked them with all the appliances of the ancient art of siege. The trenches were filled up by mounds of earth; battering-rams were pushed forward under protecting roofs to open breaches, and at the same time ships were coupled together and towers for attacking the sea walls were erected on them. But the defence was still more vigorous than the attack. The Uticans undermined the mounds, so that the wooden structures on them were thrown down; by letting down beams from the walls they weakened the blows of the battering-rams, and made sallies to set the works of the besiegers on fire. The whole of the citizens were inspired by the spirit which, half a century before, had rendered Lilybaeum impregnable. When towards the end of the summer, as it appears, the Carthaginian army under Hasdrubal advanced, united with a Numidian army under Syphax, Scipio found himself obliged to raise the siege. He confined himself now, as Marcellus had done before Syracuse, to occupying a fortified camp in the neighbourhood, from whence he could observe Utica, and at any time begin a fresh attack. This camp, known even in Caesar’s time as the ‘Cornelian camp’, was on the peninsula which runs eastward from Utica towards the sea. Scipio here drew his ships ashore to protect them, and so he passed the winter uncomfortably enough, enjoying only this advantage, that, being in communication with Sicily and Italy, he was preserved from want by the continual conveyance of supplies, arms, and clothing, and was enabled to collect together means for the next campaign. Hasdrubal and Syphax encamped in the neighbourhood, and it appears that during the winter (204 to 203) nothing of importance was undertaken on either side.

On Scipio’s landing in Africa, Masinissa immediately joined him, at the head of only two hundred horsemen. He was, as has been already mentioned, expelled from his kingdom by Syphax and the Carthaginians. His adventures, which Livy relates in detail, correspond exactly to the circumstances under which the Berber races lived for centuries, and live still. Some chief holds hereditary authority over a tribe. A dispute with a neighbour drives him, after a short struggle, to take flight into the desert. He returns with a few horsemen, collects a troop of followers around him, and lives for a time on plunder. His band grows, and with it grows his courage. The men of his tribe, and the old subjects of his family, flock around him. The struggle with his rival begins anew. Cunning, dissimulation, treachery, courage, fortune decide who shall keep the mastery, and who shall suffer imprisonment, flight, or death. Such a struggle is never decided until one of the two combatants is killed; for no dominion is established on a firm basis, and the personal superiority of the one who is today vanquished may, without any material cause, become tomorrow dangerous to the conqueror. Thus Masinissa, although a dethroned prince, was nevertheless a welcome ally to the Romans. In addition to this, he was not a mere barbarian. To the cunning and cruelty, to the perseverance and the wild audacity of the barbarian, he added a knowledge and experience of the arts of war which gave him an immeasurable superiority over others of his class. He had been brought up in Carthage, had served for several years under the best generals in Spain; he knew the military organisation and politics of the Carthaginians, their strength and their weakness, and he had long foreboded their inevitable downfall. For this reason, and not, as has been said, out of chagrin at the loss of a Carthaginian lady-love, he espoused the cause of the Romans. He knew that only from them he could obtain the secure possession of his paternal heritage, and an extension of his power over the Numidians; and he never doubted the realisation of his plan, even when, as related, he lay defeated and wounded in a cavern of the desert, and when his life was saved only by the devoted attentions of a few faithful followers.

The value of the advice and assistance of Masinissa was made evident to the Romans. He alone could have originated the scheme of setting fire in the night to the enemy’s camp. Masinissa knew the style of building adopted in the Numidian and Carthaginian camps, which consisted of wooden huts covered with rushes and branches, and he, as a Numidian, knew best how to surprise and attack the Numidians. Hasdrubal and Syphax were encamped, during the winter, at a short distance from each other and from Utica, and awaited, as it appears, the opening of the campaign by Scipio, whose fortified camp they dared not attack. The strength of the Carthaginian army is reported to have been 33,000 men, that of the Numidians g0,000, among whom were 10,000 horsemen. Scipio pretended that he wished to enter into negotiations for peace, and sent during the truce his most skilful officers as messengers to the camp of Syphax, who had undertaken to act as mediator between the Romans and Carthaginians. But the negotiations were a mere pretence. Scipio wished to get accurate information as to the position and arrangements of the enemy’s camp. He now gave notice of a renewal of hostilities, and acted as if he were going to renew the attack upon Utica. Seeing the enemy in perfect security, he made a night attack, first on the Numidian and then on the Carthaginian camp. He succeeded in setting fire to both, in penetrating to the interior, and causing a terrible slaughter, killing, according to Livy’s report, 40,000 men, and capturing 5,000. Polybius represents the success of the Romans as still greater, saying that of the 93,000 Carthaginians and Numidians only 2,500 escaped, and calling this the grandest and boldest exploit that Scipio ever carried out.

If the losses of the Carthaginians had been anything like the numbers reported by the Scipionic accounts, we should expect that Utica must have surrendered immediately. But Utica remained firm, and in the course of thirty days, a new Carthaginian army of 30,000 men, under Hasdrubal and Syphax, stood in the field. Among these there were 4,000 Spanish mercenaries, who had only just arrived in Africa. Scipio was obliged once more to interrupt the siege of Utica and to march against this army. He gained a complete victory on the so-called ‘Large Plains', after which Syphax, with his Numidians, separated himself from the Carthaginians, and returned to his own dominions.

The time had now come when Masinissa could prove his value as an ally. Strengthened by a Roman detachment under Laelius he followed Syphax to Numidia. The eastern part of this country, the land of the Massylians, which was contiguous to the Carthaginian frontier, was Masinissa’s paternal kingdom. Here he was welcomed with enthusiasm by his former subjects and companions-in-arms. From an exile he became, all at once, again a powerful sovereign. His power grew daily. He had the good fortune not only to conquer Syphax, but (what was of much more importance) to take him prisoner, and thus with one blow to put an end to the war in Numidia. The importance of this event can hardly be rated too high. Up to this time Scipio’s success, in spite of the two victories, had been far from decisive. Now, however, the power of Numidia was no longer arrayed against him, but ranged on his side, and Carthage was obliged to carry on the war against two allies, each of which alone was a match for her.

Notwithstanding this unfortunate turn of affairs, the war continued with unabated vigour, and only a few voices in Carthage were heard wishing for peace. Hannibal, the invincible, was still in Italy with his army, and his brave brother Mago was in Gaul, ready to co-operate with him. During the long time since his landing Scipio had not even been able to conquer Utica. How could he think of attacking the mighty Carthage? It is true, a detachment of the Roman army had advanced into the neighbourhood of Carthage and had taken possession of Tunes, which the Carthaginians had voluntarily evacuated; but this march upon the capital of the empire made no more impression on it than Hannibal’s appearance before Rome had made upon the Romans. While Scipio lay in Tunes, a fleet of a hundred ships left the harbour of Carthage, to attack the Roman fleet before Utica, and Scipio was obliged to return thither with all baste. As he had applied his ships of war to carry the machines employed in the siege, and had thus made them useless for a naval battle, he could not go to meet the Carthaginian fleet, but had to keep on the defensive. He lashed his ships of burden together in a line four deep, and manned them, like a sort of camp rampart, with his land troops. Of the result of the battle that ensued we have but a garbled report, made for the purpose of representing the losses of the Romans as slight as possible. Livy says that about six Roman ships of burden were detached and carried away; according to Appian one ship of war and six ships of burden were lost. The losses of the Romans must, however, have been much more considerable, as Scipio found it advisable to relinquish entirely the siege of Utica. Having made an attempt to take Hippo, and meeting with no better success, he set fire to all his siege-works and engines, and occupied himself for the remainder of the year in marching through the Carthaginian territory, and enriching his soldiers with the spoils.

In spite of the late success against the Roman fleet, the conviction, since the defeat and capture of Syphax, became more and more general in Carthage, that the resistance against Roman invasion could no longer be continued with the existing forces. The democratic war party was obliged to retire from the government, and to leave to the opposition the task of negotiating with Rome for peace. The successes of Scipio had not up to this time been such as to enable him to oppose the conclusion of a peace on fair terms. He possessed the natural and just ambition not to leave to his successor the glory of bringing the long war to a close, and he therefore agreed with the Carthaginian ambassadors on preliminaries of peace, which were to be presented for approval to the senate and people of Rome as well as of Carthage. It was agreed that the Carthaginians should give up all prisoners of war and deserters, should recall their armies from Italy and Gaul, resign Spain and all the islands between Africa and Italy, deliver all their ships of war but twenty, and pay 5,000 talents as a contribution of war, and moreover a sum equal to double the annual pay of the Roman army in Africa.

It is plain that, in this preliminary treaty, the conditions of a peace and those of an armistice have been mixed up together. The demand of pay for the Roman troops for the duration of a truce had long been customary. This money was paid immediately by the Carthaginians. In the same manner the evacuation of Italy by the Carthaginian army was certainly a condition preliminary to the negotiations for peace, i.e. a condition of the armistice. It could not possibly be the intention of the Romans that, while the armies were at rest in Africa, the war should still be carried on in Italy. We know very well that the greatest desire of the Roman people was the withdrawal of Hannibal from Italy. We also know that the senate, on principle, negotiated with no enemy for peace so long as hostile troops were in Italy. It is therefore certain that the recall of Hannibal and Mago, which in a treaty of peace was a matter of course, belonged not to the conditions of peace but to those of an armistice, and this supposition is absolutely necessary if we wish to understand the conduct of the Carthaginians on the renewal of hostilities, which took place soon after.

When the Carthaginian ambassadors reached Rome, Laelius had just been there with the captive Syphax and an embassy from Masinissa, and both senate and people had convinced themselves, by personal observation, that Ca­rthage, deprived of her most powerful ally, would not be in a position to carry on the war much longer. This accounts for the contemptuous treatment which the Carthaginians met with in the senate. Although the Roman prisoners had been already released, in the expectation that the conditions of peace would be accepted, the ambassadors were not admitted before the senate till after the departure of Hannibal and Mago from Italy. Then new difficulties were raised. According to the report of Livy the peace was not ratified, and the Carthaginian ambassadors returned home almost without an answer. Polybius says that the senate and people in Rome approved the conditions of peace. If this last report be true, some alterations in the treaty must have been proposed in Rome, on the acceptance of which by Carthage the peace depended. On this supposition only can we understand how in Rome and in the Scipionic camp the peace could be considered to be concluded, while in point of fact the war continued up to the time when Carthage would have consented to the proposed alterations.

In Carthage there had been for some time past a growing opinion that Hannibal ought to be recalled from Italy, but before entering into negotiations for peace with Scipio the senate had adhered strictly to its old plan of keeping the enemy occupied in his own country. When the Roman expedition to Africa was in contemplation, Mago had received a considerable reinforcement, had marched from Genoa over the Apennines, and had again roused the Gauls to renew the war against Rome. He met in the country of the Insubrians a Roman army of four legions, under the praetor P. Quintilius Varus and the proconsul M. Cornelius Cethegus; and in the battle which ensued the Romans could hardly have been victorious, as they own to heavy losses and do not boast of having taken any prisoners. Mago, however, was severely wounded, and this mishap was sufficient to cripple his movements. Under these circumstances the order reached him from Carthage to leave Italy. He returned to Genoa and embarked his army, but died, in consequence of his wounds, before he reached Africa. His army, however, arrived, without hindrance or loss, clearly under the protection of the armistice.

The time had now come when Hannibal wan at last obliged to renounce his long-cherished hopes of overthrowing the Roman power on Italian soil. The last three years brought him one bitter disappointment after another. After the defeat and death of Hasdrubal and the loss of Spain, one faint hope still remained—a vigorous participation in the war on the part of Macedonia. But this hope also disappeared. King Philip did nothing to carry the war into Italy, and confined himself to keeping the chief power in Greece and conquering a part of Illyria. The Romans had since 207 devoted but little attention to affairs on the east of the Adriatic Sea, and when, in the year 205, they could not prevent the hard-pressed Aetolians from concluding a peace with Philip, they did the same, and in order to satisfy the Macedonian king, they resigned to him a part of their possessions in Illyria. After this, a new prospect opened for Hannibal. The march of Mago to the north of Gaul was the last attempt which Carthage made to carry out Hannibal’s original plan. It was undertaken with great energy, and seemed to promise success, when the negotiations for peace put an end to it. As for Hannibal’s strategy in the last years of the war, it was confined to defending that corner of Italy which he still occupied, and the area of which was growing less from year to year. How Locri was lost has already been related. Hannibal’s last stronghold was Croton. From that place he still defied the Roman legions, and succeeded, when hard pressed, in inflicting serious losses. At no period does the generalship of Hannibal appear in a more brilliant light. How he succeeded, with the scanty remnants of his victorious army, with the pressed Italian recruits, emancipated slaves and fugitives, without any other resources than those which the small exhausted land of the Bruttians afforded, in keeping together an armed force, animated with warlike spirit, severely trained to discipline and obedience, supplied with arms and other necessaries of war—an army which was capable not only of steady resistance, but which repeatedly inflicted on the enemy bloody repulses—this the Roman annalists have not related. If they had been honest enough to represent in true colours the greatness of their most formidable enemy in his adversity, they would have been obliged also to paint the incompetence of their own consuls and praetors, and to confess with shame that they had not one single man able to cope with the great Punian.

Hannibal, as if he had had a foreboding of his enemies’ love of detraction, made use of the leisure which their fear granted him to record his exploits in Italy. Like all great men, he was not indifferent to the judgment of posterity, and he foresaw that this judgment must be unfavourable to him if it rested on Roman reports alone. He therefore caused to be engraved on bronze tablets in the temple of Juno on the Lacinian promontory, near Croton, an account of the principal events of the war, in the Greek and Punic languages. These bronze tablets Polybius saw and made use of, and we may be sure that the most trustworthy accounts of the second Punic war were taken from this source. Unfortunately the history of Polybius is completely preserved only for the period ending with the battle at Cannae. Of the latter books of Polybius we have mere fragments, the only complete and connected account of the Hannibalian war being that of Livy, who unhesitatingly made use of the most mendacious Roman annalists, such, for instance, as the impudent Valerius of Antium. Thus the memoirs of Hannibal are for the most part lost to us, owing to the same cruel fate which persecuted him to his death and even after his death; and Rome not only prevailed over her most formidable enemy in the field, but her historians were enabled to obtain for themselves alone the ear of posterity, and thus to perpetuate to their liking the national triumph.

Thus alone can it be explained that historians, even up to the present day, have recorded, as Hannibal’s last act in Italy, a crime, which, if it deserved credit, would place him among the most execrable monsters of all times. It is affirmed that he ordered those Italian soldiers who declined to follow him into Africa to be murdered in the sanctuary of the Lacinian Juno, and that he thus violated with equal scorn all human feelings and the sanctity of the temple. We have had already an opportunity of refuting charges such as these, and we do not hesitate to call this accusation a gross calumny. The act cannot be reconciled with Hannibal’s character. He was not capable of gratuitous cruelty, and it would have been nothing but gratuitous cruelty to massacre the poor Italians, who could have been of no use to him in Africa, and could do him no harm if left in Italy. We cannot believe that Hannibal, who before his march over the Pyrenees dismissed many thousand Spaniards to their homes because they showed unwillingness to accompany him, would now have acted so differently in Italy. If Italian soldiers met their death in the sanctuary of Juno, it was much more likely that they were men who, like the noble Capuans before the taking of the town, preferred to die a voluntary death rather than allow themselves to be tortured by the Romans in punishment of their rebellion.

Hamilcar Barcas, obeying the call of his country, had, forty years before, left the theatre of his heroic deeds, unconquered. If, with heavy heart, he discharged a mournful duty, he had at least hopes of a better future for his people. He devoted his life to bring this better future about. Now his son, greater and mightier than he, had sought, in a fifteen years’ struggle, to solve the father’s problem, and the end of his efforts and of his glorious victories was that he also had to bow his head before an inexorable fate. The anguish of his soul can be imagined only by those unhappy men who have seen before them the downfall of their fatherland, and who loved it and lived for it like Hannibal. He obeyed the order which recalled him, and was ready now, as ever, again to try the fortune of battle; but when he surveyed the progress of the war, and contemplated the continually increasing preponderance of power on the side of Rome, he could scarcely entertain any other hope than that of mitigating to some extent the fate which was inevitable.             

With the best men of his army Hannibal sailed from Croton in the autumn of the year 203. He held his course, not direct to Carthage, but, probably in consequence of a formal stipulation in the armistice, to Leptia, almost on the extreme southern boundary of the Carthaginian territory, where he was as far as possible removed from the Roman and Numidian armies and from the capital. To the same place, as it seems, came the army of Mago from Genoa, and Hannibal spent the winter there in completing his army and providing it with horses, elephants, arms, and all necessaries, so that, in case of a failure of the peace negotiation, he could renew the war in the following year.

The peace was not concluded. We have already seen that the Roman senate delayed the Carthaginian embassy until the hostile armies had left Italy, and then ratified the treaty of peace only after introducing certain alterations. This intelligence reached Carthage before the embassy itself had returned. All hopes of peace at once vanished, and instead of complete reconciliation the greatest animosity was felt. The democratic party had been in favour of war from the beginning, had conducted it vigorously in spite of the opposition of an aristocratic minority, and had reluctantly submitted to the necessity of accepting conditions of peace. Now this party again had the upper hand, after the more moderate men and the friends of peace had been foiled in their attempt to make peace with Rome on equitable terms. It has often happened that in a supreme crisis, when foreign enemies have threatened the existence of a state, an internal revolution has suddenly broken out, and that a nation, believing itself betrayed, has fallen a victim to ungovernable fury and blind passion. It was thus in Carthage. The advocates of peace were now persecuted as traitors and foes of their country, and the government fell again entirely into the hands of the fanatical enemies of Rome. Hasdrubal, the son of Gisco, according to all appearance a moderate man and by no means on principle an opponent of the family of Barcas, had till now conducted the war. After Hannibal he was the most distinguished general that Carthage possessed, and it was necessary that the negotiations for peace with Scipio should be conducted by him. The people, disappointed in their hope of peace, now turned their rage against this man. He was recalled from the command and condemned to death, on the charge of having mismanaged the war and of having had treacherous dealings with the enemy. The high-minded patriot suffered the iniquitous sentence to be passed, and continued, although condemned and outlawed, to serve his country. He collected an array of volunteers, and carried on the war on his own account. But after all he fell a victim to the unreasonable hatred of the populace. He ventured to show himself in the town, was recognised, pursued, and fled to the mausoleum of his own family, where he eluded his pursuers by taking poison. His body was dragged out into the street by the populace, and his head carried about in triumph on the top of a pole.

After such an outbreak of fury against supposed internal enemies, it may easily be imagined that the populace of Carthage were not very conscientious in the observance of the law of nations towards the Romans. The truce, as the Roman historians report, had not yet expired when a large Roman fleet, with provisions for Scipio’s army, was driven against the coast in the Carthaginian bay, and wrecked before the eyes of the people. The town was in the a state of the greatest excitement. The senate consulted as to what was to be done. The people pressed in among the senators and insisted on plundering the wrecked vessels. The government determined, either voluntarily or under compulsion, to send out ships to tow the stranded vessels to Carthage. Whether and how this resolution was carried out may be doubtful; but this much is certain, that the Roman ships were plundered, perhaps by the licentious populace, without the authority or approval of the government. Scipio sent three ambassadors to Carthage, demanding satisfaction and compensation. The embassy received a negative answer, and the attempt was even made on the part of Carthage to detain them as hostages for the safety of the Carthaginian ambassadors who were still in Rome. This attempt failed. The three Romans escaped, with much difficulty. Scipio, instead of retaliating, allowed the Carthaginian ambassadors, who shortly afterwards fell into his hands on their return from Italy, to leave his camp unmolested. After all hopes of an immediate peace had vanished, he prepared for a renewal of the war, which now, since Hannibal was opposed to him, had assumed a far more serious character.

What has been said already with regard to our imperfect knowledge of the war in Africa applies especially to the period between the landing of Hannibal and the battle of Zama. Livy and Polybius say nothing at all about it, so that we cannot understand how the hostile armies, at the distance of a five days’ march, encounter each other to the west of Carthage. Fortunately we find some indications in Appian and Zonaras, derived from an independent source, which enable us to form a proximate notion of the course of the campaign. It appears from these indications that the war was brought to a close through the Numidians and in Numidia. From Leptis Hannibal had marched to Hadrumetum, where he spent the winter. But instead of marching from this place to Carthage, and against Scipio, he turned in a southerly direction, towards Numidia. He considered it his first duty to restore Carthaginian influence in this territory, to weaken Masinissa, and to draw off its forces to the Carthaginian side. Hannibal secured the support of some Numidian chiefs, especially of Vermina, the son of Syphax; he succeeded in defeating Masinissa, in taking several towns, and in laying waste the country. Hereupon Scipio marched from Tunes, where he had taken up his position for the second time, and came to relieve his ally, threatening Hannibal on the east, whilst the Numidians were advancing against him from the west. Hannibal was worsted in a cavalry engagement near Zama, one of his commissariat trains was cut off by the Romans under the legate Thermus, and, after fruitless negotiations for peace, the decisive battle at last was fought.

The uncertainty of the history of this last year’s campaign is strikingly characterised by the fact that neither the time nor the place of this battle is exactly known. One thing is certain, that the battle of Zama, as it is called in history, was fought, not at Zama, but several days’ march to the west of it, on the river Bagradas, at a place the name of which is given differently by different authors, and which was perhaps called Naraggara. The date of the battle is also uncertain. Not one of the extant historians names even the season of the year. On the authority of a statement in Zonaras that the Carthaginians were terrified by an eclipse of the sun, the 19th of October has been fixed upon as the day of the battle, as, according to astronomical calculations, an eclipse of the sun, visible in North Africa, took place on that day in the year 202 B.C. This calculation agrees perfectly with the course of events as it appears probable from the narratives of Appian and Zonaras; for the campaign in the wide deserts of Numidia may very well have lasted through the whole summer of that year.

The battle of Naraggara, which, in order to avoid a misunderstanding, we must call the battle of Zama, is described in detail by Polybius and by Livy. After what we have said above, of the inaccuracy of these authors as to the war in Africa, it would hardly be worth while to copy their battle-pieces here, however much we may desire to have a true picture of this battle, which, though it did not decide the issue of the seventeen years’ war—for this had been long decided—yet brought the long struggle to a close. But the battles of the ancients, compared with those of modern times, were so easy to survey; their battle-fields, even when the greatest forces fought, were so small, and the battle array and tactics of their troops so uniform and simple, that it was not impossible to obtain a clear conception of the course of a battle; and where there was no intention to deceive, the accounts of eye-witnesses maybe received as, on the whole, trustworthy.

According to Appian Hannibal brought into the field 50,000 men and eighty elephants, Scipio 34,500, without counting the Numidians whom Masinissa and Dacamas, another Numidian chief, had brought to his aid. According to the account of Polybius both armies were equally strong in infantry. Hannibal’s army consisted of three different corps, drawn up one behind the other in a treble line of battle. In the first rank were placed the mercenaries, the Moors, the Gauls, the Ligurians, the Balearic contingent, and the Spaniards; then, in the second line, the Libyans and the Carthaginian militia, and in the third line the Italian veterans, mostly Bruttians. The eighty elephants, drawn up before the front, opened the attack on the Romans. In cavalry the Romans were superior to Hannibal, by the aid of their Numidian auxiliaries. It appears that Hannibal’s Numidian ally Vermina had not arrived with his troops on the day of the battle. He did not attempt an attack on the Romans until after the battle, and was then defeated with a loss of 16,000 men.             

The Roman legions were generally drawn up in three lines, in manipuli or companies of 120 men each, in such a manner that the manipuli of the second line, the principes, came to stand behind the intervals left by the manipuli of the first line, the hastati, and that on advancing they could form one unbroken line with them. The manipuli of the third line, the triarii, were half as strong as those of the two first—sixty men each; but they were formed of veterans, the most trusty soldiers in the legion. They were again disposed so that in advancing they filled up the intervals in the second line. The different manipuli were therefore drawn up like the black squares of a chess­board. The light troops, armed with spears and intended to open the battle, skirmished before the first line and retired into the intervals between the manipuli, as soon as more serious fighting began. The cavalry stood on both wings. This battle array was almost as invariable as the order of the camp, and the Roman generals had but little opportunity for the development of individual tactics. Still Scipio is said to have deviated from the usual rules at Zama. Instead of drawing up his manipuli like the black squares of a chess-board, he placed them one behind the other, like the rounds of ladders. This was intended to leave straight openings, through which the elephants might pass without trampling down or tearing asunder the infantry battalions. The elephants seem to have been of little use to the Carthaginians; but we do not know whether on account of this manoeuvre, or for some other reason, a number of them, driven aside by the Roman skirmishers, threw the Carthaginian cavalry into such disorder that they were unable to resist the attack of the Roman and Numidian horse. After a long and obstinate conflict, the first Roman line, the hastati, threw the Carthaginian mercenaries back upon their reserves, the Libyan and Punic troops. It is even said that the latter came to blows with the fugitives, either in consequence of mutual distrust, or treason, or because by Hannibal’s orders the national troops tried to drive the venal and cowardly mercenaries back into the fight. At any rate the confusion which thus ensued was most fortunate for the Romans. Scipio advanced with his second and third lines, and attacked Hannibal’s veterans, who alone preserved good order and were able to offer further resistance. The combat raged long and fiercely and without approaching a decision, until the Roman and Numidian cavalry, returning from the pursuit of the Carthaginians, fell upon the enemy’s rear and thus decided the battle.

The defeat of the Carthaginians was complete. Their army was not only routed but destroyed. Those who escaped from the horrible slaughter were for the most part surrounded and taken prisoners by the victorious cavalry. The battle was in many respects a parallel to that of Cannae, and it was especially by the bravery of the legions of Cannae that this victory was gained, and that the military honour of the Roman soldiers was retrieved. For Scipio the battle of Zama was a double success. It put an end to the war, and it secured for him the glory and the triumph. If the decision had come only a short time later, Scipio would have been obliged to share the command-in-chief in Africa with, his successor. Tiberius Claudius Nero, one of the consuls for the year 202, was already on his way with a consular army, and only bad weather had delayed his passage. Hence it appears certain that, even if the battle of Zama had ended differently, the war might indeed have been prolonged, but the final result would have been the same. The Carthaginians had indeed long been overcome, and in all their battles and exertions of the last few years, especially since the battle at the Metaurus, they were prompted more by the recklessness of despair than by well-founded hope of victory.

Hannibal had not seen his native town since he had gone to Spain with his father as a boy nine years old. He was not destined, after an absence of six-and-thirty years, when he had filled the world with his glory, to come back as a triumphant victor. He returned, after the destruction of the last Carthaginian army, to tell his fellow-citizens that not only the battle but the war was lost. His task was now to secure the most favourable conditions in the unavoidable peace. His return, and the continuance of his authority and influence in Carthage, sufficiently prove that he had always acted by the orders and had entered into the views of the Carthaginian government. If it had been true that he had begun and carried on the war out of personal motives, or even against the wish of his fellow-citizens, he would hardly have dared now to appear in a city where unsuccessful generals, even when not guilty of criminal contumacy, were in danger of crucifixion.

From Zama, Scipio had marched directly upon Carthage, whilst, a fleet of fifty ships which had just arrived under Lentulus threatened the town from the sea. But the siege of so well-fortified a town as Carthage could not be extemporised, and Scipio’s attacks on Utica and Hippo could hardly have given him hopes of rapidly ending the war by the capture of Carthage.

The importance of a fortified capital was much greater in ancient than in modern times. How often, for instance, had the wave of an invading army been broken by the walls of Syracuse, after the Syracusan armies had been routed, and the whole of their territory overrun. Thus even Carthage, trusting in the strength of her position, could now enter into negotiations with Rome as a power not yet subdued. Scipio was prepared, more than any other Roman could be, to grant favourable conditions; for he knew that a hostile party in the Roman aristocracy was endeavouring to bring about his recall before the conclusion of the treaty, in order to deprive him of the honour of ending the long war by a glorious peace. This party was supported, not by the people of Rome, but by the senate, and could easily now, as on a former occasion, retard the negotiations and finally make them abortive. In the beginning of the year a vote of the people had intrusted Scipio with the command-in-chief in Africa, but nevertheless the senate had, on its own authority, dispatched the consul Tiberius Claudius Nero with a fleet, and had coordinated him with Scipio in the command. Nero had been detained by contrary winds, and had not reached Africa. The same opposition against peace and against Scipio was again exhibited after the battle of Zama. The newly elected consul Cn. Lentulus was impatient to undertake the command in Africa, and whilst Scipio was conducting the peace negotiations, violent discussions and dissensions took place in Rome, which at last led to the decision that Lentulus should be intrusted with the command of the fleet, and that, if peace was not concluded with Carthage, he should sail to Africa and there undertake the command-in-chief of the fleet, whilst Scipio should retain the command of the land forces.

In Carthage also there were, even after the battle of Zama, some fanatics who would still have continued the war with Rome. We are told that Hannibal with his own hands pulled down from the platform one of these demagogues that was attempting to inflame the populate, and that the people forgave its deified hero this military contempt of civil order. It is equally creditable to Hannibal and the democratic party in office during the whole of the war and to their political opponents, the aristocratic peace party, which had now to conduct the negotiations with Rome, that they arrived at a friendly understanding, and joined in common measures for the public weal.

We hear of no revolution in Carthage, not even of outbreaks of rage and despair directed against the supposed authors of the national calamity. The senate sent a deputation to Scipio, and it seems that the negotiations were resumed without any difficulty on the basis of the conditions which had once already been accepted. In some points, certainly, they were made more severe. Scipio required of Carthage the surrender of all elephants, of all ships of war but ten, the payment of 10,000 talents in ten years, a hundred hostages between fourteen and thirty years of age, and (what was most serious of all) the engagement that she would wage no war either in Africa or elsewhere without the permission of the Roman people. By the acceptance of this condition Carthage evidently renounced her claim to be an independent state, and admitted that her safety and her very existence were at the pleasure of Rome.

Still the chance of battles had decided, and after the preliminaries of peace had been accepted, Scipio granted a truce for three months, which Carthage had to purchase with a sum of 25,000 pounds of silver, ostensibly as a compensation for the Roman ships that had been plundered during a former truce. In addition to this the Carthaginians had to pay and provision the Roman troops during the truce, while, the latter in return refrained from plundering the Carthaginian territory. Hereupon a Carthaginian embassy was sent to Rome for the purpose of obtaining for this peace the sanction of the senate and of the Roman people.

The news of Scipio’s victory at Zama had been received in Rome with boundless enthusiasm. When the legate L. Veturius Philo had delivered his message to the senate, he was obliged to repeat it on the Forum before the assembled people, as on a former occasion the messengers had twice to proclaim the news of the victory on the Metaurus. All the temples of the town were opened for a festive rejoicing of three days. The crowd had long desired peace in vain, and now came peace accompanied by victory. The new consul Cn. Lentulus and his party in the senate vainly attempted once more to delay the conclusion of peace. The pressure exerted by the popular party and by Scipio’s adherents was too great. The people did not wish to be cheated out of their hopes of peace, nor would they allow their favourite Scipio to be deprived of the credit of victory. They resolved, on the motion of two tribunes of the people, that the senate should conclude the peace with Carthage through P. Scipio, and that none other than he should bring back the victorious army to Rome. A commission of ten senators was at once sent to Africa to communicate this decision, and to give to Scipio their counsel and assistance. As a proof that with the conclusion of peace all hatred and dissension were to be put aside, the Carthaginian ambassadors were allowed to choose two hundred of their countrymen who were in Rome as prisoners and to take them home without any ransom.

In Carthage the news of peace was not received with equal joy, however desirable it might appear to the people. The surrender of the Roman prisoners to the number of 4,000 was no act of free generosity, but a confession of defeat that had been extorted from them. The pecuniary sacrifices which they had to make were felt still more painfully. But when the Carthaginian fleet was towed out of the harbour and fired within sight of the town, such a lamentation arose as if, with these wooden walls of the mistress of the seas, the town itself were delivered to the flames.

For Scipio nothing remained to be done in Africa but to dispense reward and punishment. Directly after the victory over Syphax he had, before the assembled army, decorated Masinissa with the crown, sceptre, and throne, with the embroidered toga and tunic, as ally and friend of the Roman people. The senate approved of this distinction by a regular resolution. Scipio now added the most valuable gift to these splendid and glittering decorations, by bestowing on Masinissa a part of the kingdom of Syphax, which they had conquered together, and its capital, Cirta. But the cautious Roman politicians could not place full confidence in the barbarian. They found it advisable to leave a rival by his side, and therefore they restored to Vermina, the son of Syphax, a part of his father’s kingdom, in spite of his hostility during the late war. The punishment of the deserters delivered up by Carthage formed the bloody epilogue to this war. The Latins amongst them were beheaded, and the Roman citizens, deemed deserving of a severer penalty, were crucified.

Scipio’s journey to Rome was an uninterrupted triumphal procession. From Lilybaeum he sent a considerable part of his army by sea to Ostia; he himself travelled by land through Sicily and southern Italy. Everywhere the people of the towns and villages came out to meet him, and welcomed him as victor and deliverer. His entry into Rome was celebrated by thousands of Roman soldiers whom he had delivered from Carthaginian captivity, and who loudly extolled him as their saviour. It must remain doubtful whether the Numidian king Syphax walked before his triumphal car; for, though Polybius affirms this, Livy states distinctly that he had previously died at Tibur. On the other hand we may take for granted, even without any particular testimony, that the legions of Cannae, which had been so undeservedly punished, more for their misfortune than their fault, now brilliantly established themselves in the esteem of their fellow-citizens, as they marched as conquerors behind the triumphal chariot of the general who by their arms had obliterated the disgrace of Cannae.

CHAPTER VIII

GENERAL REMARKS ON THE HANNIBALIAN WAR

AND THE CORRESPONDING PERIOD.