ZAMA.
Even at this critical juncture, jealousy of Scipio was rife in the Roman
Senate. His backing, as all through, came from the people, not from his
military rivals in the Senate. The consuls had done nothing to assist
Scipio’s campaign through fixing Hannibal in Italy, save that Servilius
advanced to the shore after Hannibal was safely away. But at the
beginning of the year when the allocation of the various provinces was
decided, according to custom, both consuls pressed for the province of
Africa, eager to reap the fruits of Scipio’s success and thus earn glory
cheaply. Metellus again tried to play the part of protecting deity. As a
result the consuls were ordered to make application to the tribunes for
the question to be put to the people to decide whom they wished to
conduct the war in Africa. All the tribes thereupon nominated Scipio.
Despite this emphatic popular verdict, the consuls drew lots for the
province of Africa, having persuaded the Senate to make a decree to this
effect. The lot fell to Tiberius Claudius, who was given an equal
command with Scipio, and an armada of fifty quinqueremes for his
expedition. Happily for Scipio, this jealousy-inspired move failed to
prevent him putting the coping-stone on his own work, for Claudius was
slow over his preparations, and when he eventually set out was caught in
a storm and driven to Sardinia. Thus he never reached Africa.
Soon, too, as news of the changed situation in Africa filtered through,
Scipio’s detractors combined with the habitual pessimists in the
distillation of gloom. They recalled that “Quintus Fabius, recently
deceased, who had foretold how arduous the contest would be, had been
accustomed to predict that Hannibal would prove a more formidable enemy
in his own country than he had been in a foreign one; and that Scipio
would have to encounter not Syphax, a king of undisciplined barbarians
...; nor his father-in-law Hasdrubal, that most fugacious general”—a
Fabian libel on a man of undaunted spirit; “nor tumultuary armies
hastily collected out of a crowd of half-armed rustics, but Hannibal ...
who, having grown old in victory, had filled Spain, Gaul, and Italy with
monuments of his vast achievements; who commanded troops of equal length
of service; troops hardened by superhuman endurance; stained a thousand
times with Roman blood....” The tension in Rome was increased by the
past years of indecisive warfare, carried on languidly and apparently
endless, whereas now Scipio and Hannibal had stimulated the minds of all
as generals prepared for a final death-clinch.
In Carthage the scales of public opinion appear to have been evenly
balanced, on the one hand gaining confidence from Hannibal’s
achievements and invincibility, on the other depressed by reflection on
Scipio’s repeated victories, and on the fact that through his sole
efforts they had lost their hold on Spain and Italy—as if he had been “a
general marked out by destiny, and born, for their destruction.”
On the threshold of this final phase, the support, moral and material,
given to Hannibal by his country seems to have been, on balance, more
than that accorded to Scipio—one more nail in the coffin of a common
historical error.
His situation, already discussed, was one to test the moral fibre of a
commander. Security lies often in calculated audacity, and an analysis
of the military problems makes it highly probable that his march inland
up the Bagradas valley was aimed, by its menace to the rich interior on
which Carthage depended for supplies, to force Hannibal to push west to
meet him instead of north to Carthage. By this clever move he threatened
the economic base of Carthage and protected his own, also luring
Hannibal away from his military base—Carthage.
A complementary purpose was that this line of movement brought him
progressively nearer to Numidia, shortening the distance which Masinissa
would have to traverse with his expected reinforcement of strength. The
more one studies and reflects on this manœuvre, the more masterly does
it appear as a subtly blended fulfilment of the principles of war.
It had the intended effect, for the Carthaginians sent urgent appeals to
Hannibal to advance towards Scipio and bring him to battle, and although
Hannibal replied that he would judge his own time, within a few days he
marched west from Hadrumetum, and arrived by forced marches at Zama. He
then sent out scouts to discover the Roman camp and its dispositions for
defence—it lay some miles farther west. Three of the scouts, or spies,
were captured, and when they were brought before Scipio he adopted a
highly novel method of treatment. “Scipio was so far from punishing
them, as is the usual practice, that on the contrary he ordered a
tribune to attend them and point out clearly to them the exact
arrangement of the camp. After this had been done he asked them if the
officer had explained everything to their satisfaction. When they
answered that he had done so, Scipio furnished them with provisions and
an escort, and told them to report carefully to Hannibal what had
happened to them” (Polybius). This superb insolence of Scipio’s was a
shrewd blow at the moral objective, calculated to impress on Hannibal
and his troops the utter confidence of the Romans, and correspondingly
give rise to doubts among themselves. This effect must have been still
further increased by the arrival next day of Masinissa with six thousand
foot and four thousand horse. Livy makes their arrival coincide with the
visit of the Carthaginian spies, and remarks that Hannibal received this
information, like the rest, with no feelings of joy.
The sequel to this incident of the scouts has a human interest of an
unusual kind. “On their return, Hannibal was so much struck with
admiration of Scipio’s magnanimity and daring, that he conceived ... a
strong desire to meet him and converse with him. Having decided on this
he sent a herald saying that he desired to discuss the whole situation
with him, and Scipio, on receiving the herald’s message, accepted and
said that he would send to Hannibal, fixing a place and hour for the
interview. He then broke up his camp and moved to a fresh site not far
from the town of Narragara, his position being well chosen tactically,
and having water ‘within a javelin’s throw.’ He then sent to Hannibal a
message that he was now ready for the meeting. Hannibal also moved his
camp forward to meet him, occupying a hill safe and convenient in every
respect except that he was rather too far away from water, and his men
suffered considerable hardship as a result.” It looks as if Scipio had
scored the first trick in the battle of wits between the rival captains!
The second trick also, because he ensured a battle in the open plain,
where his advantage in cavalry could gain its full value. He was ready
to trump Hannibal’s master-card.
On the following day both generals came out of their camps with a small
armed escort, and then, leaving these behind at an equal distance, met
each other alone, except that each was attended by one interpreter. Livy
prefaces the account of the interview with the remark that here met “the
greatest generals not only of their own times, but of any to be found in
the records of preceding ages ...”—a verdict with which many students of
military history will be inclined to agree, and even to extend the scope
of the judgment another two thousand years.
Hannibal first saluted Scipio and opened the conversation. The accounts
of his speech, as of Scipio’s, must be regarded as only giving its
general sense, and for this reason as also the slight divergences
between the different authorities may best be paraphrased, except for
some of the more striking phrases. Hannibal’s main point was the
uncertainty of fortune—which, after so often having victory almost
within his reach, now found him coming voluntarily to sue for peace. How
strange, too, the coincidence that it should have been Scipio’s father
whom he met in his first battle, and now he came to solicit peace from
the son! “Would that neither the Romans had ever coveted possessions
outside Italy, nor the Carthaginians outside Africa, for both had
suffered grievously.” However, the past could not be mended, the future
remained. Rome had seen the arms of an enemy at her very gates; now the
turn of Carthage had come. Could they not come to terms, rather than
fight it out to the bitter end? “I myself am ready to do so, as I have
learnt by actual experience how fickle Fortune is, and how by a slight
turn of the scale either way she brings about changes of the greatest
moment, as if she were sporting with little children. But I fear that
you, Publius, both because you are very young, and because success has
constantly attended you both in Spain and in Africa, and you have never
up to now at least fallen into the counter-current of Fortune, will not
be convinced by my words, however worthy of credit they may be.” Let
Scipio take warning by Hannibal’s own example. “What I was at Trasimene
and at Cannæ, that you are this day.” “And now here am I in Africa on
the point of negotiating with you, a Roman, for the safety of myself and
my country. Consider this, I beg you, and be not over-proud.” “... What
man of sense, I ask, would rush into such danger as confronts you now?”
The chance of a single hour might blot out all that Scipio had
achieved—let him remember the fate of Regulus, from whom likewise the
Carthaginians had sought peace on African soil. Hannibal then outlined
his peace proposals—that Sicily, Sardinia, and Spain should be
definitely given up to Rome, and Carthage confine her ambitions to
Africa. In conclusion he said that if Scipio felt a natural doubt as to
the sincerity of the proposals, after his recent experience, he should
remember that these came from Hannibal himself, the real power, who
would guarantee so to exert himself that no one should regret the peace.
Hannibal later was to prove both his sincerity and the truth of this
guarantee. But in the circumstances of the moment and of the past,
Scipio had good ground for doubt.
To Hannibal’s overture he pointed out that it was easy to express regret
that the two powers had gone to war—but who had begun it? Had Hannibal
even proposed them before the Romans crossed to Africa, and voluntarily
retired from Italy, his proposals would almost certainly have been
accepted. Yet in spite of the utterly changed position, with the Romans
“in command of the open country,” Hannibal now proposed easier terms
than Carthage had already accepted in the broken treaty. All he offered,
in fact, was to give up territory which was already in Roman possession,
and had been for a long time. It was futile for him to submit such empty
concessions to Rome. If Hannibal would agree to the conditions of the
original treaty, and add compensation for the seizure of the transports
during the truce, and for the violence offered to the envoys, then he
would have something to lay before his council. Otherwise, “the question
must be decided by arms.” This brief speech is a gem of clear and
logical reasoning. Hannibal apparently made no advance on his former
proposals, and the conference therefore came to an end, the rival
commanders returning to their camps.
Both sides recognised the issues that hung upon the morrow—“the
Carthaginians fighting for their own safety and the dominion of Africa,
and the Romans for the empire of the world. Is there any one who can
remain unmoved in reading the narrative of such an encounter? For it
would be impossible to find more valiant soldiers, or generals who had
been more successful and were more thoroughly experienced in the art of
war, nor indeed had Fortune ever offered to contending armies a more
splendid prize of victory” (Polybius). If the prize was great, so was
the price of defeat. For the Romans if beaten were isolated in the
interior of a foreign land, while the collapse of Carthage must follow
if the army that formed her last bulwark was beaten. These crucial
factors were stressed by the opposing commanders when next morning at
daybreak they led out their troops for the supreme trial, and had made
their dispositions.
Scipio rode along the lines and addressed his men in a few appropriate
words. Polybius’s account, though necessarily but the substance and not
an exact record, is so in tune with Scipio’s character as to be worth
giving. “Bear in mind your past battles and fight like brave men worthy
of yourselves and of your country. Keep it before your eyes that if you
overcome your enemies not only will you be unquestioned masters of
Africa, but you will gain for yourselves and your country the undisputed
command and sovereignty of the rest of the world. But if the result of
the battle be otherwise, those who have fallen bravely in the fight will
be for ever shrouded in the glory of dying thus for their country, while
those who save themselves by flight will spend the remainder of their
lives in misery and disgrace. For no place in Africa will afford you
safety, and if you fall into the hands of the Carthaginians it is plain
enough to those who reflect what fate awaits you. May none of you, I
pray, live to experience that fate, now that Fortune offers us the most
glorious of prizes; how utterly craven, nay, how foolish shall we be, if
we reject the greatest of goods and choose the greatest of evils from
mere love of life. Go, therefore, to meet the foe with two objects
before you, either victory or death. For men animated by such a spirit
must always overcome their adversaries, since they go into battle ready
to throw their lives away.” Of this address Livy says “he delivered
these remarks with a body so erect, and with a countenance so full of
exultation, that one would have supposed that he had already conquered.”
On the other side Hannibal ordered each commander of the foreign
mercenaries to address his own men, appealing to their greed for booty,
and bidding them be sure of victory from his presence and that of the
forces he had brought back. With the Carthaginian levies he ordered
their commanders to dwell on the sufferings of their wives and children
should the Romans conquer. Then to his own men he spoke personally,
reminding them of their seventeen years’ comradeship and invincibility,
of the victory of Trebia won over the father of the present Roman
general, of Trasimene and Cannæ—“battles with which the action in which
we are about to engage is not worthy of comparison.” Speaking thus, he
bade them cast their eyes on the opposing army and see for themselves
that the Romans were fewer in numbers, and further, only a fraction of
the forces they had conquered in Italy.
The dispositions made by the rival leaders have several features of
note. Scipio placed his heavy Roman foot—he had probably two legions—in
the centre; Lælius with the Italian cavalry on the left wing, and on the
right wing Masinissa with the whole of the Numidians, horse and foot,
the latter presumably prolonging the centre and the cavalry on their
outer flank.
The heavy infantry were drawn up in the normal three lines, first the
_hastati_, then the _principes_, and finally the _triarii_. But instead
of adopting the usual chequer formation, with the maniples of the second
line opposite to and covering the intervals between the maniples of the
first line, he ranged the maniples forming the rear lines directly
behind the respective maniples of the first line. Thus he formed wide
lanes between each cohort—which was primarily composed of one maniple of
_hastati_, one of _principes_, and one of _triarii_.
[Illustration: Battle of Zama, with Hannibal’s forces facing northwest
and Scipio’s facing southeast.]
His object was twofold: on the one hand, to provide an antidote to the
menace of Hannibal’s war elephants and to guard against the danger that
their onset might throw his ranks into disorder; on the other, to oil
the working of his own machine by facilitating the sallies and
retirements of his skirmishers. These _velites_ he placed in the
intervals in the first line, ordering them to open the action, and if
they were forced back by the charge of the elephants, to retire. Even
this withdrawal he governed by special instructions, ordering those who
had time to fall back by the straight passages and pass right to the
rear of the army, and those who were overtaken to turn right or left as
soon as they passed the first line, and make their way along the lateral
lanes between the lines. This wise provision economised life, ensured
smooth functioning, and increased the offensive power—a true fulfilment
of economy of force. It may even be termed the origin of modern extended
order, for its object was the same—to negative the effect of the enemy’s
projectiles by creating empty intervals, a reduction of the target by
dispersion, the only difference being that Hannibal’s projectiles were
animal, not mineral.
The Carthaginian had eighty elephants, more than in any previous battle,
and in order to terrify the enemy he placed them in front of his line.
Supporting them, in the first line, were the Ligurian and Gallic
mercenaries intermixed with Balearic and Moorish light troops. These
were the troops with whom Mago had sailed home, about twelve thousand in
number, and it is a common historical mistake to regard the whole force
as composed of light troops.
In the second line Hannibal placed the Carthaginian and African levies
as well as the Macedonian force, their combined strength probably
exceeding that of the first line. Finally Hannibal’s own troops formed
the third line, held back more than two hundred yards distant from the
others, in order evidently to keep it as an intact reserve, and lessen
the risk of it becoming entangled in the mêlée before the commander
intended. On the wings Hannibal disposed his cavalry, the Numidian
allies on the left and the Carthaginian horse on the right. His total
force was probably in excess of fifty thousand, perhaps fifty-five
thousand. The Roman strength is less certain, but if we assume that each
of Scipio’s two legions was duplicated by an equal body of Italian
allies, and add Masinissa’s ten thousand, the complete strength would be
about thirty-six thousand if the legions were at full strength. It was
probably less, because some wastage must have occurred during the
earlier operations since quitting his base.
_The First Phase._—The battle opened, after preliminary skirmishing
between the Numidian horse, with Hannibal’s orders to the drivers of the
elephants to charge the Roman line. Scipio promptly trumped his
opponent’s ace, by a tremendous blare of trumpets and cornets along the
whole line. The strident clamour so startled and terrified the elephants
that many of them at once turned tail and rushed back on their own
troops. This was especially the case on the left wing, where they threw
the Numidians, Hannibal’s best cavalry wing, into disorder just as they
were advancing to the attack. Masinissa seized this golden opportunity
to launch a counter-stroke, which inevitably overthrew the disorganised
opponents. With Masinissa in hot pursuit, they were driven from the
field, and so left the Carthaginian left wing exposed.
The remainder of the elephants wrought much havoc among Scipio’s
_velites_, caught by their charge in front of the Roman line. But the
foresight that had provided the “lanes” and laid down the method of
withdrawal was justified by its results. For the elephants took the line
of least resistance, penetrating into the lanes rather than face the
firm-knit ranks of the heavy infantry maniples. Once in these lanes the
_velites_ who had retired into the lateral passages, between the fines,
bombarded them with darts from both sides. Their reception was far too
warm for them to linger when the door of escape was held wide open.
While some of the elephants rushed right through, harmlessly, and out to
the open in rear of the Roman army, others were driven back out of the
lanes and fled towards the Carthaginian right wing. Here the Roman
cavalry received them with a shower of javelins, while the Carthaginian
cavalry could not follow suit, so that the elephants naturally trended
towards the least unpleasant side. “It was at this moment that Lælius,
availing himself of the disturbance created by the elephants, charged
the Carthaginian cavalry and forced them to headlong flight. He pressed
the pursuit closely, as likewise did Masinissa.” Both Hannibal’s flanks
were thus stripped bare. The decisive manœuvre of Cannæ was repeated,
but reversed.
Scipio was certainly an artist in tactical “boomerangs,” as at Ilipa so
now at Zama his foresight and art turned the enemy’s best weapon back
upon themselves. How decisive might have been the charge of the
elephants is shown by the havoc they wrought at the outset among the
_velites_.
_The Second Phase._—In the meantime the infantry of both armies had
“slowly and in imposing array advanced on each other,” except that
Hannibal kept his own troops back in their original position. Raising
the Roman war-cry on one side, polyglot shouts on the other—this vocal
discord was a moral drawback,—the lines met. At first the Gauls and
Ligurians had the balance of advantage, through their personal skill in
skirmishing and more rapid movement. But the Roman line remained
unbroken, and the weight of their compact formation pushed the enemy
back despite losses. Another factor told, for while the leading Romans
were encouraged by the shouts from the rear lines, coming on to back
them up, Hannibal’s second line—the Carthaginians—failed to support the
Gauls, but hung back in order to keep their ranks firm. Forced steadily
back, and feeling they had been left in the lurch by their own side, the
Gauls turned about and fled. When they tried to seek shelter in the
second line, they were repulsed by the Carthaginians, who, with
apparently sound yet perhaps unwise military instinct, deemed it
essential to avoid any disarray which might enable the Romans to
penetrate their line. Exasperated and now demoralised, many of the Gauls
tried to force an opening in the Carthaginian ranks, but the latter
showed that their courage was not deficient and drove them off. In a
short time the relics of the first line had dispersed completely, or
disappeared round the flanks of the second line. The latter confirmed
their fighting quality by thrusting back the Roman first line—the
_hastati_—also. In this they were helped by a human obstacle, the ground
encumbered with corpses and slippery with blood, which disordered the
ranks of the attacking Romans. Even the _principes_ had begun to waver
when they saw the first line driven back so decisively, but their
officers rallied them and led them forward in the nick of time to
restore the situation. This reinforcement was decisive. Hemmed in,
because the Roman formation produced a longer frontage and so overlapped
the Carthaginian line, the latter was steadily cut to pieces. The
survivors fled back on the relatively distant third line, but Hannibal
continued his policy of refusing to allow the fugitives to mix with and
disturb an ordered line. He ordered the foremost ranks of his “Old
Guard” to lower their spears as a barrier against them, and they were
forced to retreat towards the flanks and the open ground beyond.
_The Third Phase._—The curtain now rose on what was practically a fresh
battle. The Romans “had penetrated to their real antagonists, men equal
to them in the nature of their arms, in their experience of war, in the
fame of their achievements....” Livy’s tribute is borne out by the
fierceness and the for long uncertain issue of the subsequent conflict,
which gives the lie to those who pretend that Hannibal’s “Old Guard” was
but a shadow of its former power in the days of Trasimene and Cannæ.
The Romans had the moral advantage of having routed two successive
lines, as well as the cavalry and elephants, but they had now to face a
compact and fresh body of twenty-four thousand veterans, under the
direct inspiration of Hannibal. And no man in history has shown a more
dynamic personality in infusing his own determination in his troops.
The Romans, too, had at last a numerical advantage, not large,
however—Polybius says that the forces were “nearly equal in
numbers,”—and in reality still less than it appeared. For, while all
Hannibal’s third line were fresh, on Scipio’s side only the _triarii_
had not been engaged, and these represented but half the strength of the
_hastati_ or _principes_. Further, the _velites_ had been so badly
mauled that they had to be relegated to the reserve, and the cavalry
were off the field, engaged in the pursuit. Thus it is improbable that
Scipio had at his disposal for this final blow more than eighteen or
twenty thousand infantry, less the casualties these had already
suffered.
His next step is characteristic of the man—of his cool calculation even
in the heart of a battle crisis. Confronted by this gigantic human
wall—such the Carthaginians would appear in phalanx,—he sounds the
recall to his leading troops, and it is a testimony to their discipline
that they respond like a well-trained pack of hounds. Then in face of an
enemy hardly more than a bow-shot distant he not only reorganises his
troops but reconstructs his dispositions! His problem was this—against
the first two enemy lines the Roman formation, shallower than the
Carthaginian phalanx and with intervals, had occupied a wider frontage
and so enabled him to overlap theirs. Now, against a body double the
strength, his frontage was no longer, and perhaps less than Hannibal’s.
His appreciation evidently took in this factor, and with it two others.
First, that in order to concentrate his missile shock power for the
final effort it would be wise to make his line as solid as possible, and
this could be done because there was no longer need or advantage for
retaining intervals between the maniples. Second, that as his cavalry
would be returning any moment, there was no advantage in keeping the
orthodox formation in depth and using the _principes_ and _triarii_ as a
direct support and reinforcement to his front line. The blow should be
as concentrated as possible in time and as wide as possible in striking
force, rather than a series of efforts. We see him, therefore, making
his _hastati_ close up to form a compact centre without intervals. Then
similarly he closes each half of his _principes_ and _triarii_ outwards,
and advances them to extend the flank on either wing. The order from
right to left of his now continuous line would thus be half the
_triarii_, half the _principes_, the _hastati_, the other half of the
_principes_, the other half of the _triarii_. He now once more overlaps
the hostile front. To British readers this novel formation of Scipio’s,
inspired by a flash of genius in the middle of a momentous conflict,
should have a special interest. For here is born the “line” which the
Peninsular War and Waterloo have made immortal, here Scipio anticipated
Wellington by two thousand years in revealing the truth that the long
shallow line is the formation which allows of the greatest volume of
fire, which fulfils the law of economy of force by bringing into play
the fire—whether bullets or javelins—of the greatest possible proportion
of the force. The rôle of Scipio’s infantry in the final phase was to
fix Hannibal’s force ready for the decisive manœuvre to be delivered by
the cavalry. For this rôle violence and wideness of onslaught was more
important than sustenance. Scipio made his redistribution deliberately
and unhurriedly—the longer he could delay the final tussle the more time
he gained for the return of his cavalry. It is not unlikely that
Masinissa and Lælius pressed the pursuit rather too far, and so caused
an unnecessary strain on the Roman infantry and on Scipio’s plan. For
Polybius tells us that when the rival infantries met “the contest was
for long doubtful, the men falling where they stood out of
determination, until Masinissa and Lælius arrived providentially at the
proper moment.” Their charge, in the enemy’s rear, clinched the
decision, and though most of Hannibal’s men fought grimly to the end,
they were cut down in their ranks. Of those who took to flight few
escaped, nor did the earlier fugitives fare any better, for Scipio’s
cavalry swept the whole plain, and because of the wide expanse of level
country, found no obstacle to their searching pursuit.
Polybius and Livy agree in putting the loss of the Carthaginians and
their allies at twenty thousand slain and almost as many captured. On
the other side, Polybius says that “more than fifteen hundred Romans
fell,” and Livy, that “of the victors as many as two thousand fell.” The
discrepancy is explained by the word “Romans,” for Livy’s total clearly
includes the allied troops. It is a common idea among historians that
these figures are an underestimate, and that in ancient battles the
tallies given always minimise the losses of the victor. Ardant du Picq,
a profound and experienced thinker, has shown the fallacy of these
cloistered historians. Even in battle to-day the defeated side suffers
its heaviest loss after the issue is decided, in what is practically the
massacre of unresisting or disorganised men. How much more must this
disproportion have occurred when bullets, still less machine-guns, did
not exist to take their initial toll of the victors. So long as
formations remained unbroken the loss of life was relatively small, but
when they were isolated or dissolved the massacre began.
“Hannibal, slipping off during the confusion with a few horsemen, came
to Hadrumetum, not quitting the field till he had tried every expedient
both in the battle and before the engagement; having, according to the
admission of Scipio, acquired the fame of having handled his troops on
that day with singular judgment” (Livy). Polybius’s tribute is equally
ungrudging: “For, firstly, he had by his conference with Scipio
attempted to end the dispute by himself alone; showing thus that while
conscious of his former successes he mistrusted Fortune, and was fully
aware of the part that the unexpected plays in war. In the next place,
when he offered battle, he so managed matters that it was impossible for
any commander to make better dispositions for a contest against the
Romans than Hannibal did on that occasion. The order of a Roman force in
battle makes it very difficult to break through, for without any change
it enables every man individually and in common with his fellows to
present a front in any direction, the maniples which are nearest to the
danger turning themselves by a single movement to face it. Their arms
also give the men both protection and confidence, owing to the size of
the shield and owing to the sword being strong enough to endure repeated
blows.... But nevertheless to meet each of these assets Hannibal had
shown supreme skill in adopting ... all such measures as were in his
power and could reasonably be expected to succeed. For he had hastily
collected that large number of elephants, and had placed them in front
on the day of the battle in order to throw the enemy into confusion and
break his ranks. He had placed the mercenaries in advance with the
Carthaginians behind them, in order that the Romans before the final
engagement might be fatigued by their exertions, and that their swords
might lose their edge ... and also in order to compel the Carthaginians
thus hemmed in front and rear to stand fast and fight, in the words of
Homer: ‘That e’en the unwilling might be forced to fight.’
“The most efficient and steadfast of his troops he had held in rear at
an unusual distance in order that, anticipating and observing from afar
the course of the battle, they might with undiminished strength and
spirit influence the battle at the right moment. If he, who had never
yet suffered defeat, after taking every possible step to ensure victory,
yet failed to do so, we must pardon him. For there are times when
Fortune counteracts the plans of valiant men, and again at times, as the
proverb says, ‘A brave man meets another braver still,’ as we may say
happened in the case of Hannibal.”
Using this proverb in the sense that Polybius clearly meant it, here in
a brief phrase is our verdict on the battle—a master of war had met a
greater master. Hannibal had no Flaminius or Varro to face. No longer
was a complacent target offered him by a Roman general, conservative and
ignorant of the “sublime part of war” like those who first met Hannibal
in Italy, unwilling recipients of his instructional course. At Zama he
faced a man whose vision had told him that in a cavalry superiority lay
the master-card of battle; whose diplomatic genius had led him long
since to convert, in spirit and in effect, Hannibal’s source of cavalry
to his own use; whose strategic skill had lured the enemy to a
battle-ground where this newly gained power could have full scope and
offset his own numerical weakness in the other arms.
Rarely has any commander so ably illustrated the meaning of that
hackneyed phrase “gaining and retaining the initiative.” From the day
when Scipio had defied the opinion of Fabius, monument of orthodoxy, and
moved on Carthage instead of on the “main armed forces of the enemy,”[8]
he had kept the enemy dancing to his tune. Master in the mental sphere,
he had compassed their moral disintegration to pave the way for the
final act—their overthrow in the physical sphere. That this followed is
less remarkable than the manner of its execution. Scipio is almost
unique in that as a tactician he was as consummate an artist as in his
strategy. Of few of the great captains can it be said that their
tactical rivalled their strategical skill, or the reverse. Napoleon is
an illustration. But in battle as in the wider field Scipio achieved
that balance and blend of the mental, moral, and physical sphere which
distinguishes him in the roll of history. Thus it came about that on the
battlefield of Zama Scipio not only proved capable of countering each of
Hannibal’s points, but turned the latter’s own weapon back upon himself
to his mortal injury. Scan the records of time and we cannot find
another decisive battle where two great generals gave of their best.
Arbela, Cannæ, Pharsalus, Breitenfeld, Blenheim, Leuthen, Austerlitz,
Jena, Waterloo, Sedan—all were marred by fumbling or ignorance on one
side or the other.
Footnote 8:
Two thousand years later this is still the unshakable dogma of
orthodox military opinion, despite the hard lessons of 1914-18, when
the armies battered out their brains against the enemy’s strongest
bulwark.