Hannibal Crosses The Alps


In the year 235 B.C. the gates of the Temple of Janus were closed, for

the first time since the reign of Numa Pompilius, the second king of

Rome, nearly five centuries before. During all that long period war had

hardly ever ceased in Rome. And these gates were soon to be thrown open

again, in consequence of the greatest war that the Roman state had ever

known, a war which was to bring it to the very brink of destruction.

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The end of the first Punic War--as the war with Carthage was

called--left Rome master of the large island of Sicily, the first

province gained by that ambitious city outside of Italy. Advantage was

also taken of some home troubles in Carthage to rob that city of the

islands of Sardinia and Corsica,--a piece of open piracy which redoubled

the hatred of the Carthaginians.



Yet Rome just now was not anxious for war with her southern rival. There

was enough to do in the north, for another great invasion of Gauls was

threatened. And about this time the Capitol was struck by lightning, a

prodigy which plunged all Rome into terror. The books of the Sibyl were

hastily consulted, and were reported to say, "When the lightning shall

strike the Capitol and the Temple of Apollo, then must thou, O Roman,

beware of the Gauls." Another prophecy said that the time would come

"when the race of the Greeks and the race of the Gauls should occupy the

Forum of Rome."



But Rome had its own way of dealing with prophecies and discounting the

decrees of destiny. A man and woman alike of the Gaulish and of the

Greek race were buried alive in the Forum Boarium, and in this cruel way

the public fear was allayed. As for the invasion of the Gauls, Rome met

and dealt with them in its usual fashion, defeating them in two battles,

in the last of which the Gaulish army was annihilated. This ended this

peril, and the dominion of Rome was extended northward to the Alps.



It was fortunate for the Romans that they had just at this time rid

themselves of the Gauls, for they were soon to have a greater enemy to

meet. In the first Punic War, Carthage had been destitute of a

commander, and had only saved herself by borrowing one from Greece. In

the second war she had a general of her own, one who has hardly had his

equal before or since, the far-famed Hannibal, one of the few soldiers

of supreme ability which the world has produced.



During the peace which followed the first Punic War Carthage sent an

expedition to Spain, with the purpose of extending her dominions in that

land. This was under the leadership of Hamilcar, a soldier of much

ability. As he was about to set sail he offered a solemn sacrifice for

the success of the enterprise. Having poured the libation on the

victim, which was then duly offered on the altar, he requested all those

present to step aside, and called up his son Hannibal, at that time a

boy of but nine years of age. Hamilcar asked him if he would like to go

to the war. With a child's eagerness the boy implored his father to take

him. Then Hamilcar, taking the boy by the hand, led him up to the altar,

and bade him lay his hand on the sacrifice, and swear "that he would

never be the friend of the Romans." Hannibal took the oath, and he never

forgot it. His whole mature life was spent in warfare with Rome.



From the city of New Carthage (or Carthagena), founded by Carthage in

Spain, Hamilcar gradually won a wide dominion in that land. He was

killed in battle after nine years of success, and was succeeded by

Hasdrubal, another soldier of fine powers. On the death of Hasdrubal,

Hannibal, then twenty-six years of age, was made commander-in-chief of

the Carthaginian armies in Spain. Shortly afterwards his long struggle

with Rome began.



Hannibal had laid siege to and captured the city of Saguntum. The people

of Saguntum were allies of Rome. That city, being once more ready for

war with its rival, sent ambassadors to Carthage to demand that Hannibal

and his officers should be surrendered as Roman prisoners, for a breach

of the treaty of peace. After a long debate, Fabius, the Roman envoy,

gathered up his toga as if something was wrapped in it, and said, "Look;

here are peace and war; take which you choose." "Give whichever you

please," was the haughty Carthaginian reply. "Then we give you war,"

said Fabius, shaking out the folds of the toga. "With all our hearts we

welcome it," cried the Carthaginians. The Romans left at once for Rome.

Had they dreamed what a war it was they were inviting it is doubtful if

they would have been so hasty in seeking it.



War with Rome was what Hannibal most desired. He was pledged to

hostility with that faithless city, and had assailed Saguntum for the

purpose of bringing it about. On learning that war was declared, he

immediately prepared to invade Italy itself, leading his army across the

great mountain barrier of the Alps. He had already sent messengers to

the Gauls, to invite their aid. They were found to be friendly, and

eager for his coming. They had little reason to love Rome.



A significant dream strengthened Hannibal's purpose. In his vision he

seemed to see the supreme god of his fathers, who called him into the

presence of all the gods of Carthage, seated in council on their

thrones. They solemnly bade him to invade Italy, and one of the council

went with him into that land as guide. As they passed onward the divine

guide warned, "See that you look not behind you." But at length,

heedless of the command, the dreamer turned and looked back. He saw

behind him a monstrous form, covered thickly with serpents, while as it

moved houses, orchards, and woods fell crashing to the earth. "What

mighty thing is this?" he asked in wonder. "You see the desolation of

Italy," replied the heavenly guide; "go on your way, straight forward,

and cast no look behind." And thus, at the age of twenty-seven,

Hannibal, at the command of his country's gods, went forward to the

accomplishment of his early vow.



His route lay through northern Spain, where he conquered all before him.

Then he marched through Gaul to the Rhone. This he crossed in the face

of an army of hostile Gauls, who had gathered to oppose him. He had more

difficulty with his elephants, of which he had thirty-seven. Rafts were

built to convey these great beasts across the stream, but some of them,

frightened, leaped overboard and drowned their drivers. They then swam

across themselves, and all were safely landed.






Other difficulties arose, but all were overcome, and at length the

mountains were reached. Here Hannibal was to perform the most famous of

his exploits, the crossing of the great chain of the Alps with an army,

an exploit more remarkable than that which brought similar fame to

Napoleon in our own days, for with Hannibal it was pioneer work, while

Napoleon profited by his example.



The mountaineers proved to be hostile, and gathered at all points that

commanded the narrow pass. But they left their posts at night, and

Hannibal, when nightfall came, set out with a body of light troops and

occupied all these posts. When morning dawned the natives, to their

dismay, found that they had been outgeneralled.



Soon after the day began the head of the army entered a dangerous

defile, and made its way in a long slender line along the terrace-like

path which overhung the valley far below. The route proved

comparatively easy for the foot-soldiers, but the cavalry and the

baggage-animals only made their way with great difficulty, finding

obstacles at almost every step.



The sight of the struggling cavalcade was too much for the caution of

the natives. Here was abundant plunder at their hands. From many points

of the mountain above the road they rushed down upon the Carthaginians,

arms in hand. A frightful disorder followed. So narrow was the path that

the least confusion was likely to throw the heavily-laden

baggage-animals down the precipitous steep. The cavalry horses, wounded

by the arrows and javelins of the mountaineers, plunged wildly about and

doubled the confusion.



It was fortunate for Hannibal that he had taken the precaution of the

night before. From the post he had taken with his light troops the whole

scene of peril and disorder was visible to his eyes. Charging down the

hill, he attacked the mountaineers and drove them from their prey. But

it was a dearly bought victory, for the fight on the narrow road

increased the confusion, and in seeking the relief of his army he caused

the destruction of many of his own men.



At length the perilous defile was safely passed, and the army reached a

wide and rich valley beyond. Here was the town of Montmelian, the

principal stronghold of the mountaineers. This Hannibal took by storm,

and recovered there many of his own men, horses, and cattle which the

natives had taken, while he found an abundant store of food for the use

of his weary soldiers.



After a day's rest here the march was resumed. During the next three

days the army moved up the valley of the river Isere without difficulty.

The natives met them with wreaths on their heads and branches in their

hands, promising peace, offering hostages, and supplying cattle.

Hannibal mistrusted the sudden friendliness of his late foes, but they

seemed so honest that he accepted some of them as guides through a

difficult region which he was now approaching.



He had reason for his mistrust, for they treacherously led him into a

narrow and dangerous defile, which might have easily been avoided; and

while the army was involved in this straitened pass an attack was

suddenly made by the whole force of the mountaineers. Climbing along the

mountain-sides above the defile, they hurled down stones on the

entangled foe, and loosened and rolled great rocks down upon their

defenceless heads.



Fortunately Hannibal, moved by his doubts, had sent his cavalry and

baggage on first. The attack fell on the infantry, and with a body of

these he forced his way to the summit of one of the cliffs above the

defile, drove away the foe, and held it while the army made its way

slowly on. As for the elephants, they were safe from attack. The very

sight of these huge beasts filled the barbarians with such terror that

they dared not even approach them. There was no further peril, and on

the ninth day of its march the army reached the summit of the Alps.



It was now the end of October. The grass and flowers which carpet that

elevated spot in summer had become replaced by snow. In truth, the

climate of the Alps was colder at that period than now, and snow lay on

the higher passes all through the year. The soldiers were disheartened

by cold and fatigue. The scene around them was desolate and dreary. New

perils awaited their onward course. But no such feeling entered

Hannibal's courageous soul. Fired by hope and ambition, he sought to

plant new courage in the hearts of his men.



"The valley you see yonder is Italy," he said, pointing to the sunny

slope which, from their elevated position, appeared not far away. "It

leads to the country of our friends, the Gauls; and yonder is our way to

Rome." Their eyes followed the direction of his pointing hand, and their

hearts grew hopeful again with the cheerfulness and enthusiasm of his

words.



Two days the army remained there, resting, and waiting for the

stragglers to come up. Then the route was resumed.



The mountaineers, severely punished, made no further attacks; but the

road proved more difficult than that by which the ascent had been made.

Snow thickly covered the passes. Men and horses often lost their way,

and plunged to their death down the precipitous steep. Onward struggled

the distressed host, through appalling dangers and endless difficulties,

losing men and animals at every step. But these troubles were trifling

compared with those which they were now to endure. They suddenly found

that the track before them had entirely disappeared. An avalanche had

carried it bodily away for about three hundred yards, leaving only a

steep and impassable slope covered with loose rocks and snow.



A man of less resolution than Hannibal might well have succumbed before

this supreme difficulty. The way forward had vanished. To go back was

death. It was impossible to climb round the lost path, for the heights

above were buried deep in snow. Nothing remained but to perish where

they were, or to make a new road across the mountain's flank.



The energetic commander lost not an hour in deciding. Moving back to a

space of somewhat greater breadth, the snow was removed and the army

encamped. Then the difficult engineering work began. Hands were

abundant, for every man was working for his life. Tools were improvised.

So energetically did the soldiers work that the road rapidly grew before

them. As it was cut into the rock it was supported by solid foundations

below. Many ancient authors say that Hannibal used vinegar to soften the

rocks, but this we have no sufficient reason to believe.



So vigorously did the work go on, so many were the hands engaged, that

in a single day a track was made over which the horses and

baggage-animals could pass. These were sent over and reached the lower

valley in safety, where pasture was found.



The passage of the elephants was a more difficult task. The road for

them must be solid and wide. It took three days of hard labor to make

it. Meanwhile the great beasts suffered severely from hunger, for

forage there was none, nor trees on whose leaves they might browse.



At length the road was strong enough to bear them. They safely passed

the perilous reach. After them came Hannibal with the rear of the army,

soon reaching the cavalry and baggage. Three days more the wearied host

struggled on, down the southward slopes of the Alps, until finally they

reached the wide plain of Northern Italy, having safely accomplished the

greatest military feat of ancient times.



But Hannibal found himself here with a frightfully reduced army. The

Alps had taken toll of their invader. He had reached Gaul from Spain

with fifty thousand foot and nine thousand horse. He reached Italy with

only twenty thousand foot and six thousand horse. No fewer than

thirty-three thousand men had perished by the way. It was a puny force

with which to invade a country that could oppose it with hundreds of

thousands of men. But it had Hannibal at its head.



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