Battle of Cannæ B.C. 216, II
Hannibal’s loss had been barely six thousand men, but he had annihilated the splendid army of eighty-seven thousand men—the flower of Rome. It had vanished as if swallowed up in an earthquake. The battle had been won by crisp tactical skill and the most effective use of cavalry,—as fine as that at the Hydaspes. It was, indeed, the gorgeous handling of the cavalry which made the infantry manœuvre possible.
Few battles in history are more marked by ability on the one side and crass blundering on the other than the battle of Cannæ. The handling of the cavalry was quite beyond praise. The manner in which the far from reliable Spanish and Gallic foot was advanced in a wedge in echelon, and, under the mettlesome attack of the Roman legions, was first held there, and then withdrawn step by step, until it had reached the converse position of a reëntering angle and was then steadied in place by ordering up the light troops into its intervals,—all this being done under the exultant Roman shouts of victory—is a simple chef d’œuvre of battle-tactics, due solely to Hannibal’s magnificent personality; and the advance at the decisive instant of the African infantry, and its wheel right and left upon the flanks of the disordered and overcrowded legionaries, caps the master-stroke. The whole battle, from the Carthaginian standpoint, is a consummate piece of art, having no superior, few equals in the history of war.
It is usual for historians to blame Hannibal for not at once marching on Rome after this victory. Let us see what his chances were. We have no hint of what he himself thought, of what his reasons were for not so doing. We must content ourselves with collecting a few guesswork items, and endeavoring to argue as he did.
Two facts are peculiarly prominent in Hannibal’s campaign in Italy. First, he had opposed to him the troops of the strongest and most intelligent military power of the world, some of which were, to be sure, comparatively raw in active duty, but yet trained to war from their youth, mixed with legionaries of many campaigns, and instinct with the ardor of fighting for their household gods. It is often assumed that Hannibal’s troops were veterans, the Romans levies of a day. During the first three years this was in part true, and defeat had somewhat drawn the temper of the Roman blade; but throughout the rest of Hannibal’s campaigns the Roman army was much superior to his own in all but one quality,—that strange influence which a great man exercises over men. It will be noticed that whenever the fighting was on equal terms, from the beginning the Roman soldier gave a good account of himself. But Hannibal’s victories were won by stratagem, or by tactical genius and skilful use of his cavalry arm, not by brute fighting. In the latter act the legionary was fully the equal of the phalangite. One cannot compare the task of any other great captain with that of Hannibal. No one ever faced such odds. Secondly, Hannibal had calculated absolutely upon being able to detach the allies—the socii—from their fealty. We cannot imagine him to have set out on his marvellous expedition without having made this the prime factor in his calculations. Hannibal was no madman. He was a keen, close calculator. But he would have been insane, indeed, if he had undertaken his hazardous campaign without such expectation. He was well justified in reckoning on such defection. There had always been a good deal of opposition to high-handed Rome among all her allies, municipal cities, and colonies, and it was a fair assumption that many, if not most, of them would be glad to free themselves and humble their proud conqueror and mistress. In this expectation Hannibal had been entirely disappointed. None of the socii, who were the brawn of the Roman body, had shown any disposition to meet him otherwise than with the sword; none of the colonies, except in distant Gaul, had met him even half way. He had captured towns and territory and had garrisoned citadels. But the aid he received was not that which enables a conqueror to hold what he takes except with the strong hand. And without just such aid, Hannibal could not only not win, but could not be otherwise than defeated, in his contest with the mighty republic. To assume that Hannibal did not see all this, and that he was not fighting against hope almost from the second year, is to underrate this man’s intellectual ability. No one ever fathomed Hannibal’s purpose. He was so singularly reticent that Roman historians called him perfidious, because no one could, from his face or conduct, gauge either his thought or intention, or calculate upon his acts. He had no Hephæstion as had Alexander. But no doubt he was keenly alive to the failure, so far, of his calculation on the disaffection of the allies.
And now, after the overwhelming victory of Cannæ, he had to weigh not only the strategic and tactical difficulties, but the still more serious political ones. If the allies, or a good part of them, could be induced to join his cause, Rome would fall sooner or later. If not, he could never take Rome, nor permanently injure the Roman cause. The chances were, in a military sense, all against his capturing Rome by a coup de main. Rome was over two hundred miles distant, well walled, and with a large force which could be quietly gathered to protect it. If he failed, the game was lost. It was far wiser for him to still try to influence the allies, which he could now do with a record of wonderful victories such as the world had not yet seen. Hannibal was not a military gambler. He never risked his all on a bare chance, as some other soldiers have done. He always reckoned his chances closely. And every reason prompted him not to risk the loss of his all on the chances of a brilliant march on the enemy’s capital, which had only its boldness to commend it, and every military reason as well as the stanch Roman heart to promise failure as its result; for there was no obsequious satrap to open its gates and welcome the conquering hero, as it had been Alexander’s fortune to meet. If Hannibal marched on Rome, he must be prepared to besiege the city; and he had neither siege equipment, nor were sieges consonant with his peculiar ability. If the story be true that Maharbal asked of Hannibal, after Cannæ, that he might march on Rome with five thousand horse, promising that he should sup in the Capitol in four days, and that on Hannibal’s declining, Maharbal exclaimed, “Truly, Hannibal, thou knowest how to win a victory, but knowest not how to use one!” it may tend to show that Maharbal possessed indeed the daring recklessness of a true general of cavalry, but it also proves that Hannibal had the discretion, as he had shown in abundant measure the enterprise, of the great captain.
Hannibal probably at this time harbored the hope that, after this fourth and overwhelming defeat of the Romans, the allies would finally see that their interests lay with him. In fact, Capua, the Samnites, Lucanians, and many cities of Lower Italy did join his cause, and the unexplained time which he spent in the vicinity of his late battle-field was no doubt devoted to political questions, the favorable solution of which could be better brought about by not for the moment risking his now unquestioned military supremacy.
The institutions and laws which gave Rome strength never demonstrated her greatness so well as now. The people which had created these institutions, which had made these laws, never rose superior to disaster, never exhibited the strength of character of which the whole world bears the impress, so well as now. The horrible disaster to both state and society—for there was not a house in which there was not one dead—by no means changed the determination of the Roman people, however horrified the cool-headed, however frightened the many. Not that among the ignorant there was not fear and trembling; but it was not the ignorant who had made or ruled Rome. The more intelligent and courageous element spoke with a single voice. The prætors at once called the Senate together to devise means of defence, and it remained in constant session. All Rome was in affliction, but this must not interfere with the necessity of saving the city, and courage must be outward as well as in the heart. The word peace was forbidden to be pronounced. Mourning was limited to thirty days. Tears were prohibited to women in public. New energies were at once put at work. In view of the alarming circumstances and the impossibility of carrying out the requirements of the law, the Senate itself made M. Junius Pera dictator, who chose Titus Sempronius Gracchus as master of cavalry. The entire male population above seventeen years of age was enrolled. Four new legions and one thousand horse were added to the city garrison. All mechanics were set to work to repair weapons. The walls were already in a state of excellent defence. The Senate purchased and armed eight thousand slaves and four thousand debtors or criminals, with promise of freedom and pardon. Naught but stubborn resistance to the last man was thought of. It was indeed well that Hannibal did not march on Rome.
Cannæ was the last great victory of Hannibal, but the beginning of his most masterly work. He had up to this moment conducted a brilliant offensive. There is nothing in the annals of war which surpasses his crossing of the Alps, his victories at the Ticinus and Trebia, his march through the Arnus marshes, his victory at Lake Trasymene, his manœuvres up to Cannæ, and that wonderful battle. But this splendid record had not helped his cause. Yet, against all hope, he stuck to his task for thirteen long years more, waiting for reënforcements from Carthage, or for some lucky accident which might turn the tide in his favor. Up to Cannæ Fortune had smiled upon him. After Cannæ she turned her back on him, never again to lend him aid.
Livy asserts that Hannibal’s want of success came from his exposing his troops to a winter in Capua, where debauch destroyed their discipline. Many historians have followed this theory. But the soldier who looks at the remarkable work done by Hannibal from this time on, knows that nothing short of the most exemplary discipline can possibly account for it, and seeks his reasons elsewhere. Livy’s statements will bear watching.