A POLITICAL HITCH.
The interval between the return of Lælius and the embarkation for Africa
is occupied, apart from material preparation, by two episodes of
significance. The first is Scipio’s apparent “sideshow” at Locri; the
second, the political imbroglio which for a time threatened his ruin and
that of his plans. Both deserve study for the light they shed on his
character as a commander and a man.
Locri lay on the underpart of the toe of Italy (near modern Gerace), and
was in Hannibal’s possession. After his brother Hasdrubal’s defeat at
the Metaurus, Hannibal had fallen back on Bruttium, the southernmost
province of Italy, and here he held at bay the consular armies, who
dared not advance to seek out the scarred but indomitable lion in his
mountain fastnesses.
Some Locrians who had gone outside the walls were captured by a Roman
raiding party, and taken to Rhegium—the port adjacent to Sicily,—where
they were recognised by the pro-Roman Locrian nobles, who had found
sanctuary there when their town fell into Carthaginian hands. Certain of
the prisoners, who were skilled artisans and had been in the employment
and trust of the Carthaginians, suggested that, if ransomed, they would
be willing to betray the citadel at Locri. The nobles, eager to regain
their town, at once ransomed the artisans, and after concerting a plan
and signals, sent them back to Locri. Then, going to Scipio at Syracuse,
they told him of the scheme. He saw the opportunity, and despatched on
the venture a detachment of three thousand men under two military
tribunes. Exchanging signals with the conspirators inside, ladders were
let down about midnight, and the attackers swarmed up the walls.
Surprise magnified their strength, and the Carthaginians in confusion
fled from the citadel to a second citadel on the farther side of the
town. For several days encounters occurred between the two parties
without decisive result. Alive to the danger to his garrison, and to the
threatened loss of an important point, Hannibal moved to the rescue,
sending a messenger ahead with orders to the garrison to make a sortie
at daybreak as a cloak to what he hoped would be his surprise assault.
He had not, however, brought scaling ladders with him, and so was forced
to postpone his attack a day while he was preparing these and other
materials for storming the walls.
Scipio, who was at Messana, received word of Hannibal’s move, and
planned a counter-surprise. Leaving his brother in command at Messana,
he embarked a force, and, setting sail on the next tide, arrived in the
harbour of Locri shortly before nightfall. The troops were hidden in the
town during the night, a concealment made possible by the townspeople
favouring, though not openly taking, the side of the Romans. Next
morning Hannibal launched his assault in conjunction with the sortie
from the Carthaginians’ citadel. As the scaling ladders were being
brought forward, Scipio sallied out from one of the town gates and
attacked the Carthaginians in flank and rear. The shock of the surprise
dislocated and disorganised the Carthaginians, and, his plan upset,
Hannibal fell back on his own camp. Realising that the Romans, because
of their grip on the town, were masters of the situation, he withdrew
during the night, sending word to his garrison in the citadel to make
their way out as best they could and rejoin him.
For Scipio this “side-show” was a very real asset. Apart from the
personal prestige he gained from his success in this first encounter
with the dreaded Hannibal, scoring a trick even off the master of ruses,
he had helped the Roman campaign in Italy by curtailing Hannibal’s
remaining foothold in that country—and without any diminution of his own
force. But, beyond these personal and indirect gains, his success had an
important bearing on his own future plan of operations. For he had
“blooded” his troops against Hannibal, and by this successful enterprise
given them a moral tonic, which would be of immense value in the crucial
days to come. It is unfortunate that for this episode, as for Lælius’s
reconnaissance in Africa, we have no Polybius to reveal to us the
motives and calculations which inspired Scipio’s moves. The loss of
Polybius’s books on this period must be replaced by deduction from the
facts, and from the knowledge already gained of Scipio’s mind. To those
who have followed his constant and farsighted exploitation of the moral
element during his Spanish campaigns, there can be little doubt that he
seized on the Locri expedition as a heaven-sent chance not only to test
and sharpen his weapon for the day of trial, but to dispel in his troops
the impression of Hannibalic invincibility.
The second episode arose out of the subsequent administration of
recaptured Locri. When Scipio had sent the original force to seize the
town, he had instructed Quintus Pleminius, the proprætor at Rhegium, to
assist the tribunes, and when the place was captured Pleminius, by
virtue of his seniority, assumed the command until Scipio arrived. After
the repulse of Hannibal’s relieving force, Scipio returned to Sicily,
and Pleminius was naturally left in chief command of the town and its
defence, though the detachment from Sicily remained under the direct
command of the tribunes.
How Pleminius abused his trust is one of the most sordid pages in Roman
history. The wretched inhabitants suffered worse from his tyranny and
lust than ever they had from the Carthaginians—an ill-requital of their
aid to the Romans in regaining the town. The example of their leader
infected the troops, and their greed for loot not only harassed the
townspeople but inevitably led to disorder among themselves. It would
seem that the tribunes strove to check this growing license, and to
uphold the true standards of military discipline. One of Pleminius’s
men, running away with a silver cup that he had stolen from a house and
pursued by its owners, met the tribunes in his flight. They stopped him
and had the cup taken away, whereat his comrades showered abuse on the
tribunes, and the disturbance soon ended in a free fight between the
soldiers of the tribunes and those of Pleminius. The latter were worsted
and invoked the aid of their commander, inciting him by tales of the
reproaches cast upon his behaviour and control. Pleminius thereupon
ordered the tribunes to be brought before him, stripped, and beaten.
During the short delay while the rods were being brought and themselves
stripped, the tribunes called upon their men for aid. The latter,
hastily gathering from all quarters, were so inflamed at the sight that,
breaking loose from the habits of discipline, they vented their rage on
Pleminius. Cutting him off from his party, they mutilated his nose and
ears, and left him almost lifeless.
When word of the disturbance reached Scipio, he sailed immediately for
Locri and held a court of inquiry. Of the evidence and of the reasons
for his judgment we know nothing. All that is handed down is the fact
that he acquitted Pleminius, restored him to command, and pronouncing
the tribunes guilty, ordered them to be thrown into chains and sent back
to Rome for the Senate to deal with. He then returned to Sicily.
The verdict appears somewhat astonishing, the one serious blemish, in
fact, on Scipio’s judgment. The motives which inspired it are difficult
to surmise. Perhaps it was partly pity for the mutilated Pleminius,
combined with anger that his own men should have shown such gross
insubordination and committed such an atrocity. It is a natural instinct
with the best type of commander to be more severe on the misconduct of
his own direct subordinates than on those who are only attached to him,
and in case of dispute between the two such a man may err because of his
very scrupulousness to hold the balance fairly, and to avoid partiality
towards his own. It was said of one of the finest British commanders in
the war of 1914-18 that if he had a personal dislike or distrust of a
subordinate he invariably gave the latter more rope than the others,
knowing that if his distrust was justified the man would assuredly use
this rope to hang himself. Similar may have been the motives underlying
Scipio’s outwardly inexplicable verdict. In criticising it the historian
must consider not only the gaps in our knowledge of the case, but view
the incident in the general light of all Scipio’s recorded acts as a
commander. The whole weight of evidence, as we have seen, goes to show
that two qualities which especially distinguished Scipio were the
acuteness of his understanding of men, and his humanity to the
conquered. Trust in a Pleminius or condonation of brutality were the
last things to be expected of him, and so, lacking evidence as to the
facts on which his decision was based, it would be rash to pass adverse
judgment on his action.
We need to remember also that Locri was in Italy, and therefore outside
his province, and a close attention to its administration could only be
at the expense of his primary object—preparation for the expedition to
Africa.
The importance of the Locri incident is not as a light on Scipio’s
character, but as a political rock on which his military plans nearly
foundered. How this came about can be briefly told. After Scipio’s
departure, Pleminius, who thought that the injury he had sustained had
been treated too lightly by Scipio, disobeyed the latter’s instructions.
He had the tribunes dragged before him and tortured to death, refusing
even to allow their mangled bodies to be buried. His injuries still
rankling, he then sought to avenge himself by multiplying the burdens
put on the Locrians. In despair, they sent a deputation to the Roman
Senate. Their envoys arrived soon after the consular elections, which
had marked the end of Scipio’s term of office, though he was continued
in command of the troops in Sicily. Their tale of misery raised a storm
of popular indignation at Rome, and Scipio’s senatorial opponents were
not slow to divert this on to the head of the man nominally responsible.
It is no surprise to find that Fabius initiated this by asking if they
had carried their complaints to Scipio. The envoys replied, according to
Livy, that “deputies were sent to him, but he was occupied with the
preparations for the war, and had either already crossed over into
Africa, or was on the point of doing so.” They added that his previous
decision between Pleminius and the tribunes had given them the
impression that the former was in favour with Scipio.
Fabius had got the answer he wanted, and after the envoys had withdrawn,
hastened to condemn Scipio unheard, declaring “that he was born for the
corruption of military discipline. In Spain he almost lost more men in
consequence of the mutiny than in the war. That, after the manner of
foreigners and kings, he indulged the licentiousness of the soldiers,
and then punished them with cruelty.” This envenomed speech Fabius
followed up with “a resolution equally harsh.” It was “that Pleminius
should be conveyed to Rome in chains, and in chains plead his cause;
that, if the complaints of the Locrians were founded in truth, he should
be put to death in prison, and his effects confiscated. That Publius
Scipio should be recalled for having quitted his province without the
permission of the Senate.”
A hot debate followed, in which, “besides the atrocious conduct of
Pleminius, much was said about the dress of the general himself, as
being not only un-Roman, but even unsoldierly.” His critics complained
that “he walked about the gymnasium in a cloak and slippers, and that he
gave his whole time to light books and the palæstra. That his whole
staff were enjoying the delights which Syracuse afforded, with the same
indolence and effeminacy. That Carthage and Hannibal had dropped out of
his memory”—somewhat inconsistent on the part of the people who were
proposing to recall him because he had been fighting with Hannibal. How
petty, but how true to human nature! The real grievance of his crusted
seniors was not his leniency with Pleminius, but his Greek refinement
and studies.
But wiser counsels prevailed. Metellus pointed out how inconsistent it
would be for the State now to recall, condemned in his absence and
without a hearing, the very man whom they had commissioned to finish the
war, and to do so in the face of the Locrians’ evidence that none of
their tribulations occurred while Scipio was there. On the motion of
Metellus a commission of inquiry was appointed to visit Scipio in
Sicily, or even in Africa had he departed thither, with power to deprive
him of his command if they found that the acts at Locri had been
committed at his command or with his concurrence. This commission was
also to investigate the charges brought against his military régime,
whether his own alleged indolency or the relaxation of discipline among
the troops. These charges were brought by Cato, who, besides being an
adherent of Fabius, conceived it his special mission in life to oppose
the new Hellenic culture and to effect cheese-paring economies. It is
related that to save money he sold his slaves as soon as they were too
old for work, that he esteemed his wife no more than his slaves, and
that he left behind in Spain his faithful charger rather than incur the
charge of transporting it to Italy. As quæstor under Scipio in Sicily he
reproached his general with his liberality to the troops, until Scipio
dispensed with his services, whereupon Cato returned disgruntled to
Italy to join Fabius in an anti-waste campaign in the Senate.
The commission went first to Locri. Pleminius had already been thrown
into prison at Rhegium, according to some accounts by Scipio, who had
sent a _legatus_ with a guard to seize him and his principal coadjutors.
At Locri restitution of their property and civic privileges was made to
the citizens, and they willingly agreed to send deputies to give
evidence against Pleminius at Rome. But though invited to bring
complaints against Scipio, the citizens declined, saying that they were
convinced that the injuries inflicted on them were neither by his orders
nor with his approval.
The commission, relieved of the duty of investigating such charges,
nevertheless went on to Syracuse, to see for themselves the military
condition of his command. There are parallels in history to such a
political investigation on the eve of a great military venture—the
Nivelle affair is the most recent,—and often they have reacted
disastrously both on the confidence of the commander and the confidence
of his subordinates in him. But Scipio survived the test. “While they
were on their way to Syracuse, Scipio prepared to clear himself, not by
words but by facts. He ordered all his troops to assemble there, and the
fleet to be got in readiness, as though a battle had to be fought that
day with the Carthaginians by sea and land. On the day of their arrival
he entertained them hospitably, and on the next day presented to their
view his land and sea forces, not only drawn up in order, but the former
carrying out field operations, while the fleet fought a mock naval
battle in the harbour. The prætor and the deputies were then conducted
round to view the armouries, the granaries, and other preparations for
the war. And so great was the admiration aroused in them of each
particular, and the whole together, that they formed the conviction that
under the conduct of that general, and with that army, the Carthaginians
would be vanquished, or by none other. They bid him with the blessing of
the gods, cross over....” (Livy).
These deputies were not, as the “frocks” of 1914-18, remarkable only for
their ignorance of matters military. Like most Romans they were men of
military training and experience, and no “eye-wash” would have deceived
them. In face of such a verdict it is surprising that a historian of the
reputation of Mommsen should here again swallow Fabius’s spiteful
charges, and repeat as his own the opinion that Scipio failed to
maintain discipline. Only a lay historian, militarily ignorant, could
imagine that an army which had been allowed to run to seed could carry
out the complex Roman battle drill and develop its preparations to a
pitch of efficiency that not only gained the approval but aroused the
enthusiasm of this expert commission.
On their return to Rome the warmth of their praise induced the Senate to
vote that Scipio should cross to Africa, and that he should be given
permission to select himself, _out of those forces which were in
Sicily_, the troops which he wanted to accompany him. The irony of this
grudging and tardy permission lies in the clause in italics. He was
given their blessing, and that was all. For a venture of such magnitude,
he was worse supported by the Senate than even Hannibal by Carthage. Of
Roman troops, apart from his own volunteers, he had in Sicily only the
5th and 6th Legions, the remnant of those who had fought at Cannæ, and
who in punishment for the defeat had been sentenced to serve in exile in
Sicily. A less understanding commander might well have hesitated to rely
on troops suffering such a degradation. But “Scipio was very far from
feeling contempt for such soldiers, inasmuch as he knew that the defeat
at Cannæ was not attributable to their cowardice, and that there were no
soldiers in the Roman army who had served so long, or were so
experienced in the various types of combat.” They on their side were
burning to wipe off the unjust stigma of disgrace, and when he declared
that he would take them with him he could feel sure that by this proof
of his trust and generosity he had won their utter devotion. He
inspected them “man by man,” and putting aside those unfit for service
he filled up their places with his own men, bringing the strength of
each Legion up to 6200 infantry and 300 horse.
Roman accounts differ widely as to the total strength of the force that
embarked, and even in Livy’s time the uncertainty was such that he
preferred not to give an opinion. The smallest estimate is 10,000 foot
and 200 horse; a second is 16,000 infantry and 1600 horse; the third,
and largest, is a total of 35,000, including horse and foot. The first
is disproved by the previous facts, and these seem rather to point to
the second as the correct estimate. In any case it was slender indeed
for the object aimed at.
There is a striking parallel between the situation and numbers of Scipio
in 204 B.C. and those of Gustavus Adolphus in 1630 A.D., when the
Swedish King crossed the Baltic to strike at the seat of the Imperial
power. And each force, small as it was, had been welded by the training
genius and personal magnetism of its leader into a superb instrument of
war—a cadre or framework for later expansion. How purely this expedition
and its triumphant success was the plan and the work of Scipio can be
aptly shown by quoting Mommsen, a far from friendly witness: “It was
evident that the Senate did not appoint the expedition, but merely
allowed it: Scipio did not obtain half the resources which had formerly
been placed at the command of Regulus, and he got that very corps which
for years had been subjected by the Senate to intentional degradation.
The African army was, in the view of the majority of the Senate, a
forlorn hope of disrated companies and volunteers, whose loss in any
event the State had no great occasion to regret.” And yet many
historians assert that Rome’s victory in the Punic War was due to the
generous support she gave to her generals, the failure of Carthage to
the reverse cause!
Not only were Scipio’s means slender, but the African situation had
changed for the worse during the year’s delay forced on him by the need
to raise and train his expeditionary force, in default of Rome’s aid, a
delay still further protracted by the Locri inquiry. Hasdrubal, son of
Gisco, on his return from Spain had checkmated Scipio’s newly won
influence over Syphax, by giving the king his daughter Sophonisba in
marriage, and in return got Syphax to renew his pledge of alliance with
Carthage. Still afraid that Syphax would adhere to his old pledges to
Scipio, Hasdrubal “took advantage of the Numidian while under the
influence of the first transports of love, and calling to his aid the
caresses of the bride, prevailed upon him to send envoys into Sicily to
Scipio, and by them to warn him ‘not to cross over into Africa in
reliance on his former promise.’” The message begged Scipio to carry on
the war elsewhere, so that Syphax might maintain his neutrality, adding
that if the Romans came he would be compelled to fight against them.
Passion had beaten diplomacy. One can imagine what a blow the message
proved to Scipio. Yet he determined to carry through his plan, and
merely sought to counteract the moral harm which might accrue if
Syphax’s defection became known. He sent the envoys back as quickly as
possible, with a stern reminder to Syphax of his treaty obligations.
Further, realising that the envoys had been seen by many, and that if he
maintained silence about their visit rumours would spread, Scipio
announced to the troops that the envoys had come, like Masinissa earlier
to Lælius, to urge him to hasten his invasion of Africa. It was a shrewd
ruse, for the truth might have caused grave moral depression at the
critical time. Scipio, wiser than the military authorities of 1914,
understood crowd psychology, and knew that the led put the worst
construction on the silence of the leaders, that they assume no news to
be bad news, despite all the proverbs.