The greatest general of all time, according to the actual greatest general of all time, is mistakenly regarded by most people as synonymous with loss.
In Hannibal’s opinion, the greatest general of all time–and he ought to know even if he’s being modest–was Pyrrhus of Epirus. We tend to think of Pyrrhus as a loser thanks to the prevalent phrase “Pyrrhic Victory,” but remember the second half of that is VICTORY. The Commander was of the opinion that for sheer audacity joined to brains, you couldn’t beat Ol’ Pyrrhy, a man who was determined to get the job done no matter what.
(Photo credit: Marie-Lan Nguyen, Wikimedia Commons)
WHAT HE SET OUT TO DO
Nothing less than destroy the Roman empire. Alexander the Great’s second cousin couldn’t hold onto a throne, so he decided to carve one for himself. The Greeks had colonized the coast of southern Italy, and Rome’s expansion put a bunch of Latin knights sharpening their swords in plain view of Magna Graecia. The city of Tarentum asked him to command their war, so Pyrrhus did the reasonable thing and sought the advice of a hallucinating virgin. Whereas today that would get you some ghastly Twilight fan fiction, the Oracle at Delphi gave a wordy amphiboly that guaranteed she’d be right no matter what happened, a tactic familiar to any man who’s ever argued with his wife.
Thus assured in the wisdom of his endeavor, Pyrrhus set forth to literally strangle the Roman empire in its crib. His 25,000 troops, plus some non-Latin Italian allies, met Rome at the Battle of Heraclea for a mixed martial arts clash so thunderous Pyrrhus’ humongous brass balls are still vibrating in his grave. Neither phalanx nor legion could thwart the other until Pyrrhus decided to do things the easy way and unleashed his war elephants.
Pyrrhus, like any cop out for justice, stood over his foes’ bodies as the backup arrived just late enough to say, “Damn…I’ll call it in.” The unified Greek forces then wandered around the bootheel, taking or plundering any town they wanted. Rome, the European terrorist in this action flick, upped the ante by slaughtering a bunch of Greeks so they couldn’t join Pyrrhus. It’s important to remember in this article that Romans are dicks (Latin: [i]mentulae[/i]).
WHAT WENT WRONG
The Battle of Asculum. The evenly sized armies fought, with Pyrrhus finally cracking the solid steel shields of the legion, but taking some good licks of his own. Eventually, the elephants were able to stomp Rome again, and the Latin army retreated, losing 6,000 men to Pyrrhus’ 3,500 men. All good, right?
Wrong. Now Pyrrhus is running short on men, including many of his best officers. He hasn’t picked up the Italic allies he thought he would. In his own words, “We can’t survive another victory like this one.” He may have added, “Now give me that crown.” Making matters worse, the pasta wouldn’t have tomato sauce for another 1700 years, so there wasn’t a lot of incentive to stick around. But, hey, Rome’s been thoroughly spanked and run home holding its bottom twice now, maybe they’d be sensible and agree to respect Tarentine independence.
Yeah, that would have been swell, except: the Romans were dicks. They wouldn’t talk treaty until Pyrrhus went home, at which point Rome would have had as much as incentive to negotiate as a bank robber given a private jet and the secret map to Nude Carnival Island.
Bear in mind, Pyrrhus wasn’t overrunning Rome, he was simply asking them to leave his people alone, which is kind of like those same police letting the robber take home whatever he can carry if he promises not to do it again. On top of all that, by leaving the continent, he’d have to abdicate the throne he was angling for in the first place. That would have been tough explaining to several thousand widows back in Greece.
Rome allied with Carthage, the other almighty empire at the time, who pounced on Syracuse like it was Ass-Kicking Tuesday and Sicily wore size 44 jeans. Pyrrhus tried to help, but the legendary Punic navy was so eager to cut him open you’d have thought he had a caramel center. His attentions now divided and his resources dwindling, he lost to the Romans at the aptly-named town of “Bad Event” which those garlic-munching imperialists promptly renamed Beneventum (“Good Event”). Because again: Romans = dicks.
THE AFTERMATH
Pyrrhus left us with the phrase “Pyrrhic Victory,” a triumph so costly it wasn’t worth the prize. He also left enough troops to defend Tarentum, which waited about five minutes for him to leave before promptly surrendering to the Romans. In a surprising display of non-dickery Rome didn’t punish the rebellion, even letting them govern themselves, which was exactly what all the bloodshed was over. All the war did was encourage the development of new, passive-aggressive dick techology.
Pyrrhus got his crown by attacking the Macedonian homeland, but got greedy enough to make the mistake of attacking Sparta, despite being aware that it was full of Spartans.
Refusing to learn, he proceeded to Argos. Alas, if talent ran in family, all the Baldwins would be worth watching. Similarly, Alexander’s cousin was killed by an old woman bonking him with a roof tile, serving up the assist for an Argive stabbing fatality. But you have to admit, that’s still a more dignified end than Stephen Baldwin.
Bonus Hannibal today: I’ve got an article on incredibly audacious generals over at Asylum. Lots of burning livestock and impalations there, if that’s your thing. No Pyrrhus, but there are robot oxen. Because those were all Washington wanted for his birthday.