n a higher degree than Hannibal;
and none ever stood so much, or so long, in need of its aid. In truth,
it was the secret of his success; the magic power which so long held
together his multifarious array. We have few anecdotes indicating this
ascendancy; for the historians of the Romans, or their subjects the
Greeks, were in no hurry to collect traits to illustrate the character
of their enemy. But decisive evidence of its existence, and almost
supernatural power, is to be found in the fact, that without the aid of
reinforcements, and scarce any remittances, from Carthage, he maintained
the war in the heart of Italy with mercenary troops collected from every
country of the earth, against the native soldiers of the bravest and
most warlike people on the earth. We read of no mutinies or disobedience
of orders among his followers. It were hard to say whether the fiery
Numidian, the proud and desultory Spaniard, the brave but inconstant
Gaul, or the covetous Balearic, was most docile to his direction, or
obedient to his will. Great indeed must have been the ascendency
acquired by one man over such various and opposite races of men, usually
the prey of such jealousies and divisions; and whom the most powerful
coalition in general finds so much difficulty in retaining in
subjection.

Of Hannibal's political wisdom and far-seeing sagacity, ancient history
is full. Alone of all his contemporaries, he clearly, and from his very
infancy, perceived the extent of the danger which threatened his country
from the insatiable ambition and growing power of the Romans; alone he
pointed out the only mode in which it could be successfully combated. He
was at once the Burke, the Pitt, and the Wellington of his country.
Beyond all doubt, if his advice had been followed, and his enterprises
duly supported, Carthage would have been victorious in the second Punic
War. It was because his countrymen were not animated with his heroic
spirit, nor inspired with his prophetic foresight, that they failed.
They were looking after gain, or actuated by selfish ambition, while he
was straining every nerve to avert danger. When he swore hatred to the
Roman on the altar at nine years of age, he imbibed a principle which
the judgment of his maturer years told him was the only means of saving
his country. To the prosecution of this object he devoted his life. From
his first entrance into public duty till his last hour, when he
swallowed poison to avoid being