Complete Works of Silius Italicus Page 15

  All these pictures Hannibal surveyed with a face of anger and contempt, and then cried out with rising passion: “Deeds as great as these, the work of my right arm, shall Carthage yet display upon her walls. Let us see there the capture of Saguntum, overthrown by fire and sword together; let fathers be shown stabbing their own children; the conquest of the Alps will claim no little space; let Garamantes and Numidians, riding on their horses, trample on the high peaks. Add the banks of the Ticinus foaming with blood, and my victory on the Trebia, and the shore of Lake Trasimene covered deep with the Roman dead. Let us see Flaminius, a giant in giant armour, crash to the ground, and the consul Scipio a wounded fugitive, borne on his son’s shoulders back to their camp. Show these sights to the people, Carthage; and greater sights shall be forthcoming in future: you shall display Rome blazing with Libyan fire-brands, and the Thunderer east down from the Tarpeian rock. For the present, ye soldiers, by whose valour my great deeds are accomplished, make haste to do what is right to be done: throw these pictures into the fire and wrap them in flames.”

  BOOK VII

  ARGUMENT

  FABIUS DETERMINES TO TAKE NO RISKS IN THE FIELD (1-19). CILNIUS, ONE OF HIS PRISONERS, INFORMS HANNIBAL CONCERNING THE FAMILY HISTORY AND CHARACTER OF FABIUS (20-73). RELIGIOUS OBSERVANCES AT ROME (74-89). FABIUS RESTORES DISCIPLINE IN THE ARMY. HANNIBAL CANNOT TEMPT HIM TO FIGHT (90-122). HANNIBAL MOVES TO APULIA AND TRIES TO PROVOKE FABIUS BY VARIOUS DEVICES. HE RETURNS TO CAMPANIA AND RAVAGES THE FALERNIAN COUNTRY (123-161). THE VISIT OF BACCHUS TO THE AGED PEASANT, FALERNUS (162-211). FABIUS EXPLAINS HIS POLICY OF INACTION TO HIS DISCONTENTED SOLDIERS (212-259). A TRICK OF HANNIBAL’S, TO MAKE THE DICTATOR MORE UNPOPULAR (260-267). HANNIBAL, HAVING GOT INTO A DANGEROUS SITUATION, BREAKS OUT BY MEANS OF A STRATAGEM AND ENCAMPS ON OPEN GROUND (268-376). THE DICTATOR, OBLIGED TO VISIT ROME, WARNS MINUCIUS AGAINST FIGHTING (377-408). A CARTHAGINIAN FLEET LANDS AT CAIETA: THE NYMPHS ARE TERRIFIED; BUT THE PROPHECY OF PROTEUS COMFORTS THEM (409-493). MINUCIUS IS GIVEN EQUAL POWERS WITH THE DICTATOR (494-522). THE DICTATOR RETURNS AND GIVES UP HALF THE ARMY TO MINUCIUS: MINUCIUS RASHLY ENGAGES THE ENEMY BUT IS RESCUED BY THE DICTATOR (523-579). FABIUS IS HAILED AS “FATHER” BY MINUCIUS AND THE SOLDIERS (730-750).

  MEANWHILE Fabius was the one beacon-light in that dark hour. He made haste to arm sore-wounded Italy and her allies; his green old age faced the hardships of war, and he soon marched against the foe. But that more than human genius recked little of spears and swords and strong steeds. He went forth alone against an army of so many thousand Carthaginians and their invincible leader; and all the men and arms of Italy were comprised in his person. But for that old man’s godlike power, but for his fixed resolve to check by delay Fortune’s favour for the enemy, the Roman name would have passed away for ever. He it was who made the gods withdraw their favour from the Punic host, and put a stop to the victorious campaign of the African invaders; it was his wise policy of delay that baffled Hannibal elated with conquest. O greatest of generals, who didst save the realm of Troy from falling a second time, preserver of perishing Italy and the great deeds of our ancestors, of Carmentis’s treasure and the throne of Evander — arise and lift up thy sacred head to the heaven which is thy due!

  But, when the dictator had been chosen and new names came to the front, Hannibal, reflecting that the Romans had not so quickly changed the supreme command without good reason, was eager to learn the dictator’s rank and reputation; he wondered why Fabius was the sole remaining anchor of the storm-tossed state, and why Rome thought him a match for Hannibal. He was troubled by his rival’s age, free from youthful passion and proof against stratagem. Quickly he summoned one of his prisoners and questioned him concerning the dictator’s family, his manner of life, and his martial exploits. Cilnius, born in the Tuscan land of Arretium, bore a famous name; but an evil hour had brought him to the banks of the Ticinus, where he was thrown from his wounded horse and taken prisoner by the Libyans. He was eager to end his troubles by a violent death and answered thus: “You have not now to do with a Flaminius or a hot-headed Gracchus. Hercules is the ancestor of his house; and if Fate had made them your countrymen, Hannibal, you would have seen Carthage mistress of the world. I shall not detain you with a long list of separate achievements: one will suffice, and from one battle you shall learn what the Fabii are. The people of Veii had broken the peace and refused to submit to the Roman yoke, war was raging close to the gates of Rome, and the consul gave the call to arms. No levy was held: the clan of Hercules, unhelped by the State, made up an army. From a single house — marvellous to tell! — there went forth an army of patricians to fight side by side. Three hundred leaders sprang to arms, and with any one of them in command you might have fought a campaign with confidence. But they went forth with evil omens: the Bloody Gate creaked with inauspicious sound, and a moaning came from the Great Altar of divine Hercules. When they attacked the foe, their fierce valour suffered them not to count the enemy, and they slew more than their own number. Often in close array, and often scattered afar over uneven ground, they endured the changing chances of battle; and by their equal effort and equal valour they deserved to lead three hundred triumphs to the temple of Jupiter. But alas for hope deceived! They forgot that no boon granted to mortal man is lasting. That band of heroes, who thought shame that the Fabian clan should not hazard their lives when their country was at war, were suddenly surrounded and slain all together, because of the jealousy of Heaven. But you, Hannibal, have no reason to rejoice at their death: enough of them is left to cope with you and Libya: one Fabius will match the three hundred warriors. Such life is there in his limbs; so painstaking is his foresight; such shrewdness does he hide beneath calmness and caution. Though you are of the age when blood is hot, you will not be swifter than Fabius to spur the flanks of your war-horse and tear his mouth with the bridle.” Such a speech showed Hannibal that Cilnius was eager for death. “Fool!” he cried:

  “in vain you seek to rouse my wrath and to escape captivity by death. You must go on living. Let him be guarded in close fetters.” Thus he spoke, proud of victory and the favour of Heaven.

  But the senators and matrons of Rome repaired in haste to the temples, to worship the gods. With sad looks and streaming eyes, the band of women marched in long procession, and offered a robe to Juno and solemn vows. “Be present, O Queen of Heaven, we, thy chaste people, pray; and we, all the Roman women of noble name, bring thee a gift wondrous fair, which our own hands have woven and embroidered with threads of gold. This robe thou shalt wear for the present, O goddess, until mothers grow less fearful for their sons. But if thou dost grant us to drive the African storm-cloud away from our land, divers jewels, set in gold, shall adorn thy glittering crown.” They made special offerings also to Pallas and Phoebus, to the War-god, and to Dione above all. So great is the sudden piety of men in time of trouble; but altars seldom smoke in prosperous times.

  While Rome in ancient fashion appointed sacrifices for the temples of the gods, Fabius, moving quietly forwards, by his strategy which might be mistaken for inaction, had barred every approach against Fortune and the foe. He suffered none to leave the ranks, and taught his men discipline — discipline, the chief glory that raises the imperial head of Rome to heaven. But, when the first Roman ensigns were distinctly seen on the heights, and the new weapons of the army glittered in the distance, Hannibal’s hopes rose high. Intoxicated by success, he made sure of victory as soon as the armies met: “On! on!” he cried; “make haste! Rush to the gates of Rome! Knock down the ramparts with your breasts! The space between the hosts is all that separates the enemy from death. They summon to arms the old and feeble, unworthy antagonists for us. All whom you see now are the refuse — men discarded as useless when the war began. Where are now the Gracchi, and where are the two Scipios, the thunderbolts of their nation? Behold! Hunted out of Italy, they never paused in their cowardly flight until terror drove them to the Ocean and the World’s End; each is now a wandering exile, and keeps to the banks of
the Iberus, in dread of my name. With good reason my fame was increased when Flaminius fell; with good reason I rejoice to add to the list of my exploits the name of that doughty warrior; but how few years can my sword cut off from the life of this Fabius! And yet he dares. Let him dare! Never again, I warrant, shall he be seen in arms.”

  Thus he shouted, and pushed his army on with flying speed. Riding in advance, now he shook his fist at the foe, and now taunted them, and again hurled his spear from far and rode on triumphant, rehearsing the impending battle. So the son of Thetis bore on the plains of Troy the armour that Vulcan forged — the shield on which the whole world was depicted — earth and sky and his mother’s sea.

  Fabius sat and watched this fruitless rage from a lofty mountain-top; by refusing battle he tamed their proud hearts, and wore out their baffled boasting by masterly delay. So through the dark night the shepherd sleeps secure who keeps his flock penned in the fold behind iron bars, while the pack of wolves rage outside, mad with hunger, howling in their fury and rattling with their teeth at the unyielding barriers.

  Foiled in his design, Hannibal moved away and marched slowly through the land of Apulia. Sometimes he halted and hid in some remote valley, hoping for a chance to hurry on the foe behind him and surround them with an unexpected ambush; or again he planned secret marches under cover of night, and pretended to retreat in panic; and again he suddenly abandoned in sight of the enemy a camp filled with booty, and set a trap for them, careless of the cost. Thus the Maeander, as it flows through the land of Lydia, turns back in its crooked course and wanders till it rejoins its own stream. All his attempts are full of guile; he tries every trick at once, and sharpens his ingenuity for every kind of enterprise. Even so, when a sunbeam is reflected in water, the light flits to and fro through the room, quivering as the reflection moves, and strikes the ceiling with flickering shadow. And now, wild with rage, Hannibal thus complained in his wrath: “If I had met Fabius at first in battle, would the Trebia and Lake Trasimene never have become famous? would no Italians be mourning their dead? would the river of Phaethon never have darkened the sea with its blood-stained waters? He has invented a new method of conquest: he holds his hand, and we are weakened by inaction. How often, pretending an attack, has he skilfully unmasked our plots and disclosed our stratagems!” Thus the sleepless general pondered, when the bugle sounded the midnight hour, and when the third watch, to whom the unwelcome duty was allotted, were roused from sleep to take up their arms. He now changed his route: he left the land of Daunus behind him and returned to Campania which had felt the spoiler’s hand before; but this time when he reached the fertile district of Falernus — a rich soil it is, that never deceived the husbandman — they flung destroying fire on the fruitful branches.

  Though called away by my great theme, I may not pass over the honours of Bacchus without mention. I must tell of the god who bestowed on man the divine drink, and whom the nectar-bearing vines forbid to set any brand above the presses of Falernus. In the good old days before swords were known, Falernus, a man in years, used to plough the high ground of Mount Massicus. Then the fields were bare, and no vine-plant wove a green shade for the clusters; nor did men know how to mellow their draught with the juice of Lyaeus, but were wont to slake their thirst with the pure water of a spring. But when Lyaeus was on his way to the shore of Calpe and the setting sun, a lucky foot and a lucky hour brought him hither as a guest; nor did the god disdain to enter the cottage and pass beneath its humble roof. The smoke-grimed door welcomed a willing guest; the meal was set, in the fashion of that simple age, in front of the hearth; nor was the happy host aware that he entertained a god; but, as his fathers used to do, he ran hither and thither with kindly zeal, tasking his failing strength. At last the feast was set — fruit in clean baskets, and dainties dripping dew which he hastened to cull from his well-watered garden. Then he adorned the toothsome meal with milk and honeycomb, and heaped the gifts of Ceres on a chaste board which no blood defiled. And from each dish he first plucked a portion in honour of Vesta, and threw what he had plucked into the centre of the fire. Pleased by the old man’s willing service, Bacchus decreed that his liquor should not be lacking. Suddenly a miracle was seen: to pay the poor man for his hospitality, the beechen cups foamed with the juice of the grape; a common milk-pail ran red with wine; and the sweet moisture of fragrant clusters sweated in the hollow oaken bowl. “Take my gift,” said Bacchus; “as yet it is strange to you, but hereafter it will spread abroad the name of Falernus, the vine-dresser”; and the god was no longer disguised. Straightway ivy crowned his brows that glowed and flushed; his locks flowed down over his shoulders; a beaker hung down from his right hand; and a vine-plant, falling from his green thyrsus, clothed the festive board with the leaves of Nysa. Falernus found it hard to strive against the cheerful draught: when he had drunk once again of the cup, his stammering tongue and staggering feet roused mirth. With splitting head he tried, though he could not speak plain, to render thanks and praise to Father Lyaeus; and at last Sleep, who goes ever in the train of Bacchus, closed his reluctant eyes. And when the sun rose and the hoofs of Phaethon’s horses dispelled the dews all Mount Massicus was green with vine-bearing fields, and marvelled at the leafage and the bunches shining in the sunlight. The fame of the mountain grew, and from that day fertile Tmolus and the nectar of Ariusia and the strong wine of Methymna have all yielded precedence to the vats of Falernus.

  This was the land which Hannibal then ravaged and fiercely persecuted. He was impatient, because the blood on his swords was dry, while Fabius still foiled him. But now over-confidence and a perverse desire for battle grew strong in the Roman camp, and the men were ready to rush down from their position on the heights.

  Muse, make famous the man who was enabled to master two armies and to quell the fury of them both. Fabius spoke thus: “If the Senate had considered me a man of hot blood and violent temper, a man easily upset by clamour, they would not have trusted me in the last resort with the control of a war already all but lost. My plan of campaign has long been weighed and is fixed: I will persist in saving you, though you protest against it and court your doom. Not one of you shall be allowed to perish, if I can help it. If you are tired of life, and wish to be the last bearers of the Roman name, and if at this crisis you are not content unless you have made some spot famous for fresh disaster and resounding defeat, then we must call Flaminius back from the realm of darkness. Long ago he would have given the order and the signal to attack. Or are you still blind to the yawning precipice and imminent destruction? One victory more for Hannibal, and the war is over. Stay where you are, my men, and learn to understand your leader. When a favourable moment calls for action, then let your deeds match your present vaunting words. It is not, I assure you, it is not a hard thing to rush to battle: when the gates of the camp are opened, a single hour will see you all pour out into the field. But it is a great thing — and none get it, unless Jupiter has smiled on them as they went forth — to come back after the battle. Hannibal is following up his good fortune, and driving his ship with confidence before a favouring wind. Until the breeze falls and the flagging wind deserts his swelling sails, to delay will prove our gain. Fortune never clings to any man with a lasting embrace. Already, how much reduced are their forces, and how much reputation they have lost! And yet we have fought no battle against them. Indeed, my titles to fame may include him who not long ago — but it may be better to say no more. Do you call for immediate action and battle with the foe? I pray to Heaven that your confident spirit may be lasting. In the meantime, avert the risk of a great disaster, and set me, me only, in opposition to the whole war.” His words tamed their frenzy and calmed their angry weapons. So, when Neptune, the ruler of the sea, raises his serene brow above the stormy waves, and sees the whole ocean and is seen by it, the angry winds stop their fierce howling and cease to ply the wings on their foreheads; then peace and quiet spread gradually over the deep, and gentle waves reflect the light along the silent s
hore.