The Comic History of Rome

by Gilbert Abbott À Beckett

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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