And now for the first time the Roman legions had to stand the shock of the Greek phalanx. The tactics of the two armies were wholly different. The free order of the legions, which now fought with pila and swords, has been described above. On the other hand, the Epirots formed two great columns, called the phalanxes, in which each man stood close to his fellow, so that half his body was covered by his right-hand man’s shield. They were drawn up sixteen deep, and their long pikes, called sarissæ, bristled so thickly in front, that the line was impenetrable unless a gap could be made in the front ranks. They acted mechanically, by weight. If they were once broken they were almost defenceless. Level ground, therefore, was necessary to their effective action.
Pyrrhus had secured this last-named advantage: the plain of Heraclea was well adapted for the regular movement of the phalanxes, as well as for that of his cavalry and elephants. The action began by the Roman cavalry crossing the Siris, and driving back a squadron of the Thessalian horse, the remainder of which, with the elephants, were yet in the rear. The main body of the Romans, inspirited by this success, followed across the bed of the river to assail the phalanxes. But they could make no impression on these solid masses; the principes took the place of the hastati, and the triarii succeeded to the principes, in vain. Lævinus then ordered up his cavalry to attack the phalanxes in flank. But they were met by the whole body of Thessalian horse, supported by the elephants. The Romans had never before seen these monstrous animals, which in their ignorance they called “Lucanian oxen”: their horses would not face them, and galloped back affrighted among the infantry. Pyrrhus now led his whole line forward, and the rout was general. The Romans were driven back across the Siris, and did not attempt to defend their camp. Yet they soon rallied, and retired in good order into Apulia, where Venusia was ready to receive them. It was now seen with what judgment the senate had occupied that place with a large colony.
The victory of Heraclea was gained at a very heavy loss. Pyrrhus now rightly estimated the task he had undertaken. He had a soldier’s eye. When he visited the field of battle next day, and saw every Roman corpse with its wounds in front, he exclaimed: “If these were my soldiers, or if I were their general, we should conquer the world.” When he offered in the temple of Jove at Tarentum a portion of the spoils taken after the battle, he placed on them the following inscription:
“Those who had ne’er been vanquished yet, great Father of Olympus,
Those have I vanquished in the fight, and they have vanquished me.”
And when he was asked why he spoke thus, he answered: “Another victory like this will send me without a man back to Epirus.”
Arrival of Pyrrhus at Tarentum
The battle of Heraclea, however, encouraged the Greek cities of Locri and Rhegium to throw off the Roman yoke. Locri joined Pyrrhus; but Decius Jubellius, with his Campanian soldiers, declared themselves independent, and seized Rhegium for themselves. But, above all, the battle of Heraclea left the ground open for the Lucanians and Samnites to join the king; and he advanced into Samnium to claim the fulfilment of their promises. But as he advanced he was struck by the desolate condition of the country; and he reproached the Italians with deceiving him. The battle which had just been fought taught him how formidable was the foe he had to deal with, and what he now saw, that he must trust to his own resources. He resolved therefore to end the war at once by negotiating an advantageous peace.
The person employed in this negotiation was Cineas, a name only less remarkable than that of Pyrrhus himself. He was a Thessalian Greek, famous for his eloquence, but still more famous for his diplomatic skill. He served Pyrrhus as minister at home and ambassador abroad. “The tongue of Cineas,” Pyrrhus used to say, “had won him more battles than his own sword.” So quick was his perception, and so excellent his memory, that he had hardly arrived in Rome when he could call every senator by his name, and address every one according to his character. The terms he had to offer were stringent; for Pyrrhus required that all Greek cities should be left free, and that all the places that had been taken from the Samnites, Apulians, and his other allies, should be restored. Yet the skill of Cineas would have persuaded the senate to submit to these terms if it had not been for one man. This was Appius Claudius the censor. He was now in extreme old age; he had been blind for many years, and had long ceased to take part in public affairs. But now, when he heard of the proposed surrender, he caused himself to be conducted to the senate-house by his four sons and his five sons-in-law, and there, with the authoritative eloquence of an oracle, he confirmed the wavering spirits of the fathers, and dictated the only answer worthy of Rome—that she would not treat of peace with Pyrrhus till he had quitted the shores of Italy. The dying patriotism of Appius covers the multitude of arbitrary acts of which he was guilty in his censorship.