AFTER ZAMA.
The completeness of the victory left no room for a strategic pursuit,
but Scipio did not linger in developing the moral exploitation of his
victory. “Concluding that he ought to bring before Carthage everything
which could increase the consternation already existing there ... he
ordered Gneius Octavius to conduct the legions thither by land; and
setting out himself from Utica with the fresh fleet of Lentulus added to
his former one, made for the harbour of Carthage” (Livy). The immediate
move achieved its object, a bloodless capitulation, thus crowning his
eight years’ fulfilment of the law of economy of force by saving the
costly necessity of a siege.
A short distance from the harbour of Carthage he was met by a ship
decked with fillets and branches of olive. “There were ten deputies, the
leading men in the State, sent at the instance of Hannibal to solicit
peace, to whom, when they had come up to the stern of the general’s
ship, holding out the badges of suppliants and entreating the protection
and compassion of Scipio, the only answer given was that they must come
to Tunis, whither he would move his camp. After taking a view of
Carthage, not with any particular object of acquainting himself of it,
but to dispirit the enemy, he returned to Tunis, and also recalled
Octavius there” (Livy). The army on its way had received word that
Vermina, the son of Syphax, was on his way to the succour of Carthage
with a large force. But Octavius, employing a part of the infantry and
all the cavalry, intercepted their march and routed them with heavy
loss, his cavalry blocking all the routes of escape.
As soon as the camp at Tunis was pitched, thirty envoys arrived from
Carthage, and to play on their fears they were kept waiting a day
without an answer. At the renewed audience next day Scipio began by
stating briefly that the Romans had no call to treat them with leniency,
in view not only of their admission that they had begun the war, but of
their recent treachery in violating a written agreement they had sworn
to observe.
“But for our own sake and in consideration of the fortune of war and of
the common ties of humanity we have decided to be clement and
magnanimous. This will be evident to you also, if you estimate the
situation rightly. For you should not regard it as strange if we impose
hard obligations on you or if we demand sacrifices of you, but rather it
should surprise you if we grant you any favours, since Fortune owing to
your own misconduct has deprived you of any right to pity or pardon, and
placed you at the mercy of your enemies.” Then he stated first the
indulgences, and next the conditions of peace—from that day onward the
Romans would abstain from devastation or plunder; the Carthaginians were
to retain their own laws and customs, and to receive no garrison;
Carthage was to be restored all the territory in Africa that had been
hers before the war, to keep all her flocks, herds, slaves, and other
property. The conditions were—that reparation was to be made to the
Romans for the injuries inflicted during the truce; the transports and
cargoes then seized were to be given up; all prisoners and deserters
were to be handed over. The Carthaginians were to surrender all their
warships except ten triremes, all their elephants, and not to tame any
more—Scipio evidently held these in more respect than some modern
military historians do. The Carthaginians were not to make war at all on
any nation outside Africa, and on no nation in Africa without consulting
Rome. They were to restore to Masinissa, within boundaries that should
subsequently be settled, all the territory and property that had
belonged to him or his forbears. They were to furnish the Roman army
with sufficient corn for three months, and pay the troops until the
peace mission had returned from Rome. They were to pay an indemnity of
ten thousand talents of silver, in equal annual instalments spread over
fifty years. Finally, they were to give as surety a hundred hostages, to
be chosen by Scipio from their young men between fourteen and thirty
years. The restoration of the transports was to be an immediate
condition of a truce, “otherwise they would have no truce, nor any hope
of peace.”
202 B.C.—1919 A.D.! What moderation compared with the conditions of
Versailles. Here was true grand strategy—the object a better peace, a
peace of security and prosperity. Here were sown no seeds of revenge.
The necessary guarantees of security were obtained by the surrender of
the Carthaginian fleet, by the hostages, and by placing a strong and
loyal watchdog in Masinissa next door to Carthage. But they were kept
down to the minimum both of cost to the conqueror and hardship to the
conquered. This cheaply afforded security paved the way for the future
prosperity of Rome, and at the same time made possible, justly, the
revival of Carthage’s prosperity.
The vindication of Scipio’s generous and foresighted moderation lies in
the fifty years of peace, unspotted on the Carthaginian side, which
followed Zama. And had the Roman politicians been as wise and
dispassionate as Scipio this peace would of a certainty have endured,
with Carthage a prosperous and placid satellite of Rome, and the
immortal phrase, _Delenda est Carthago_, instead of being translated
into dreadful fact, would have been no more than the transitory
hobby-horse of a senile “die-hard,” a jest for a generation and then
forgotten. Moreover, had the execution of the treaty terms been left
with Scipio, there would not have been that malignant distortion of its
clauses whereby constant complaints, but no more, were wrung from a
long-suffering State. Even as it was, despite these constant petty
inflictions, Carthage became as prosperous and populous as in the height
of its power, and only by deliberate and outrageous provocation—the
order to the citizens to destroy their own city—could these patient
traders be forced into the revolt that afforded the desired pretext for
their obliteration.
Let it be added that the moderation of Scipio called forth the response
of Hannibal, and the true peace initiated by the former was being
faithfully fulfilled by the latter, until the unrelenting hatred of the
Roman Senate drove him into exile from the country whose peaceful
prosperity he was rebuilding. Not for the last time in history, the
vision and humanity of two great rival soldiers gave a shining example
of true policy to revengeful and narrow-minded politicians. Yet for this
constructive wisdom Hannibal paid by exile and forced suicide, Scipio by
ending his days in voluntary exile from a State that had long since
“dropped the pilot.” His envious and narrow political rivals in the
Senate could not refuse to ratify his peace terms in face of his
influence over the people, and were for the moment too conscious of
relief in this happy ending of a ruinous and prolonged struggle. But as
the memory of danger passed, and also of how narrowly they had escaped,
these checks on their hatred waned, and they could not forgive “the man
who had disdained to punish more thoroughly the crime of having made
Romans tremble.”
When Scipio had announced the terms of peace to the envoys from
Carthage, they carried them at once to their Senate. His moderation did
not evoke an instant echo in an assembly that was coincidently
“indisposed for peace and unfit for war.” One of the Senators was about
to oppose the acceptance of the terms, and had begun his speech when
Hannibal came forward and pulled him down from the tribune. The other
members became irate at this breach of senatorial usage, whereupon
Hannibal rose again, and, admitting that he had been hasty, asked their
pardon for this “unparliamentary” conduct, saying, that as they knew, he
had left at nine years of age, and returned after thirty-six years’
absence on more practical debating. He asked them to dwell rather on his
patriotism, for it was due to this that he had offended against
senatorial usage. “It seems to me astounding and quite incomprehensible,
that any man who is a citizen of Carthage, and is conscious of the
designs that we all individually and as a body have entertained against
Rome, does not bless his stars that now he is at the mercy of the Romans
he has obtained such lenient terms. If you had been asked but a few days
ago what you expected your country to suffer in the event of a Roman
victory, you would not have been able even to voice your fears, so
extreme were the calamities then in prospect. So now I beg you not to
argue the question, but to agree unanimously to the terms, and to pray,
all of you, that the Roman people may ratify the treaty.”[9] This
dust-dispelling breeze of common-sense so cleared their minds that they
voted to accept the terms, and the Senate at once sent envoys with
instructions to agree to them.
They had some difficulty in complying with the preliminary conditions
for the truce, as although they could find the transports they could not
return their cargoes, because much of the property was still in the
hands of the irreconcilables. The envoys were forced to ask Scipio to
accept a monetary compensation, and as he put no obstacles in the way, a
three months’ truce was settled and granted.
The envoys sent to Rome were chosen from the first men in the State—for
the Romans had made it a ground of complaint that the former embassy
lacked age and authority,—and they were further recommended to the Roman
Senate by the inclusion of Hasdrubal Hædus, a consistent peace advocate
and longstanding opponent of the Barcine party. This good impression he,
as spokesman, developed by a speech that subtly flattered their
dispassionate justice, and while tactfully admitting guilt, toned down
its blackness.
The majority of the Senate were clearly in favour of peace, but
Lentulus, who had succeeded to Claudius’s consulship and also his
ambition for cheap glory, protested against the decision of the Senate,
as he had been canvassing to be allotted Africa as his province, and
hoped that if he could keep alive the dying embers of the war he might
attain his ambition. But this was promptly snuffed out, for when the
question was put to the assembly of the people, they unanimously voted
that the Senate should make peace, that Scipio should be empowered to
grant it, and that he alone should conduct the army home. The Senate
therefore agreed accordingly, and on the return of the Carthaginian
envoys peace was concluded on the terms set forth by Scipio. The terms
were punctually fulfilled, and Scipio ordered the warships, five hundred
in number, to be towed out to the open sea and there set on fire—the
funeral pyre of Carthaginian supremacy.
Scipio’s enemies used in later years to insinuate that the moderation of
his terms was due to his fear that harsher conditions might, by
prolonging the war, force him to share his glory with a successor. As
this vulgar motive has also been hinted at by some historians, it is
worth while to stress two facts which utterly demolish the slander.
First, the helplessness and passivity of Carthage from that time onward;
second, the way the Roman people squashed all attempts to supersede him
during this last phase. After Zama, when all Rome was wild with
enthusiasm, no usurper, however pushful, would have stood the least
chance of success.
Before leaving Africa, he first saw Masinissa established in his
kingdom, and presented him with the lands of Syphax, delaying his own
triumph in order to ensure the reward of his loyal assistants. Then at
last, his task accomplished, he withdrew his army of occupation, and
embarked them for Sicily. On arriving there he sent the bulk of his
troops on by sea while he proceeded overland through Italy, one long
triumphal procession, for not only did the people of every town turn out
to do him honour, but the country folk thronged the roads. On arriving
in Rome he “entered the city in a ‘triumph’ of unparalleled splendour,
and afterwards distributed to each of his soldiers four hundred _asses_
out of the spoils.” At this time, too, was born his surname of
Africanus, “the first general who was distinguished by a name derived
from the country which he had conquered.” Whether this was bestowed by
his soldiers, by his friends, or as a popular nickname is uncertain.
The enthusiasm of the people was so great that he could have obtained a
title far more definite than any nickname, however distinguished. We
know from a speech of Tiberius Gracchus, years later in the darkest hour
of Scipio’s career, that the people clamoured to make him perpetual
consul and dictator, and that he severely rebuked them for striving to
exalt him to what would have been, in reality if not in name, regal
power. The authenticity of the fact is the more assured because Gracchus
was then charging him with disregarding the authority of the tribunes.
From this speech we also learn that Scipio “hindered statues being
erected to him in the comitium, in the rostrum, in the Senate house, in
the Capitol, in the chapel of Jupiter’s temple, and that he prevented a
decree being passed that his image, in a triumphal habit, should be
brought in procession out of the temple of Jupiter.... Such particulars
as these, which even an enemy acknowledged while censuring him ... would
demonstrate an uncommon greatness of mind, in limiting his honours
conformably with his position as a citizen” (Livy).
Is there any other man in all history who has put aside so great a prize
when it was not only within his reach but pressed upon him? The incident
of Cincinnatus returning to his farm after accomplishing his mission as
dictator is immortal, yet Scipio’s not only paralleled but eclipsed it.
Which was the greater test—for a simple tribesman to conform to the
traditions of a primitive State, or for a highly cultured and ambitious
man of the world to eschew the virtual kingship of a supreme civilised
power? Compare, again, Scipio’s action with the picture of Cæsar
reluctantly refusing, in face of the groans of the multitude, the royal
diadem which was offered by pre-arrangement with his supporters. In
assessing the world’s great figures, other than the definitely
religious, we have tended to base our estimate mainly on concrete
achievement and mental calibre, overlooking the moral values—the same
lack of balance between the three spheres which has been remarked in the
conduct of policy in peace and war. Even this test of achievement has
been based on quantity rather than quality. That Cæsar’s work is known
universally, and Scipio little more than a name to the ordinary educated
man, is a curious reflection on our historical standards, for the one
inaugurated the world dominion of Roman civilisation, the other paved
the way for its decay.
[Illustration: The Mediterranean World.]
Extraordinary as is the nobility of mind which led Scipio to this
self-abnegation, it becomes yet more so in view of his age. It is
conceivable that a man in the last lap of life might have gained a
philosophical outlook on the prizes of ambition, and spurned them from
experience of their meretricious glitter. But that a man who at the
early age of thirty-five had scaled the Himalayan peaks of achievement
and fame should do so is a miracle of human nature. Little wonder that
his countrymen gradually turned from adulation to petty criticism;
little wonder that historians have forgotten him, for such loftiness of
mind is beyond the comprehension of ordinary men—and ordinary men hate
what they cannot understand.
Footnote 9:
While this is a Roman version of Hannibal’s speech, the comments
ascribed to him are justified by the peace terms, and it is unlikely
that the Romans would give him undue credit for a pacific influence.