Scipio Africanus

by B. h. Liddell Hart

  From logistical strategy we come to grand strategy. This lies in the domain of peace as much as in war, and hence for simplicity it may be well to deal with the grand strategy which contributed to the winning of wars, and reserve for our study of Scipio as statesman that part of his grand strategy which had its goal in the subsequent peace.

  If our examination of the years 210-190 B.C. has achieved its historical purpose, it should be clear that Scipio showed an understanding of war in its three spheres—mental, moral, and physical, and of their interplay, such as is just dawning on the most progressive politico-military thought of to-day. Further, he translated this understanding into effective action in a way that we may possibly achieve in the next great war—more probably, we shall be fortunate to get out of the physical rut by 2000 A.D.

  For proof of this claim look at the progressive and co-ordinated steps by which, starting from the valley in Rome’s darkest hour, he climbs steadily and surely upwards to the summit of his aims, and plants Rome’s flag on the sunlit peaks of earthly power. Scipio is a mountaineer, not a mere athlete of war. The vision that selects his line of approach, and the diplomatic gifts which enable him to surmount obstacles, are for him what rock-craft is to a climber. His realisation of the importance of securing his base for each fresh advance is his snow-craft, and his employment of military force his ice-axe.

  Watch him, on arrival in Spain, make wide inquiries about the position of the Carthaginian forces, and the importance and topography of Cartagena. His genius tells him that here is the base and pivot of the Carthaginian power in Spain, and shows him the feasibility, the way, and the effect of such a stroke—at the moral and economic rather than the purely military objective.

  Cartagena gained, note the wisdom which by conciliating the citizens secures his acquisition against internal treachery, and further enables him to economise the garrison by converting the citizens into active partners in the defence. What a diplomatic coup is the prompt release and care of the Spanish hostages. If Napoleon’s presence was worth an army corps, Scipio’s diplomacy was literally worth two. It converted allies of the enemy into allies of his own.

  There was grand strategy, too, in his wise restraint from a further advance, in order to allow the moral and political effect of Cartagena and its sequel to develop. Thus Hasdrubal Barca, seeing the Spanish sand trickling fast from his end of the hour-glass to Scipio’s, was drawn into the offensive move which enabled Scipio to beat him before the other Carthaginian armies came up. Once more victory paves the way for diplomacy, as that in turn will pave the way for further victories. He sends home the Spanish captives without ransom, and, still more shrewdly, returns Masinissa’s nephew loaded with presents—surely never in history has the money invested in presents brought a greater ultimate dividend.

  Next, note the rapidity with which Scipio nips in the bud the incipient threat from Hanno, and in contrast the constraint by which he avoids wasting his force on a number of petty sieges which could bring no commensurate profit. The wider effect of Scipio’s action in Spain also deserves notice, for Livy tells us that this year Hannibal in Italy was for the first time reduced to inaction, because he received no supplies from home owing to Carthage being more anxious about the retention of Spain.

  Scipio’s grand strategy was from now onwards to lift the pressure off Rome in ever-increasing degree. His success in Spain compelled the Carthaginians to invest there the forces that might have been decisive in Italy, and at Ilipa he wipes them off the military balance-sheet.

  The instant that victory in Spain is sure, and before turning to the mere clearing operations, his grand strategical eye focusses itself on Africa. His daring visit to Syphax, his meeting with and despatch of Masinissa to Numidia—here are two strings to a bow which shall soon loose a shaft at the heart of Carthage. For an object-lesson in the selection of the true objective, and its unswerving maintenance in face of all obstacles and perils, the next few years are a beacon light for all time. He schemes, he prepares, he works unceasingly towards the goal. The military interference of the enemy is almost the least of his difficulties. Sexual passion frustrates one of his shrewdest diplomatic moves, but his plan is too flexible, too well conceived, for even this blow to have more than a transient effect. Jealous rivals, short-sighted politicians, military “ diehards” do their best, or worst, to block his plan, and failing in this, to obstruct him and curtail his strength. He builds and trains a fresh army out of adventurers and disgraced troops. Yet he never makes a rash or a false move, mindful always of the principle of security. By diplomacy again he creates in Sicily a sure source of supply. He sends a reconnoitring expedition to clear up the African situation, and appreciating Masinissa’s material weakness, refuses to be rushed into a move before his own weapon is forged. When he lands, his first efforts are directed to gain a secure base of operations. And gauging exactly the strength and weakness of Carthage and of his own position, he adapts consummately his immediate end to his existing means. Each successive move is so directed as to subtract from the military and political credit of Carthage and transfer the balance to his own account. His restraint when this ultimate goal is so close in mileage, though not in reality, is almost miraculous in a commander so youthful and so early successful. But he has long realised that Syphax and Masinissa are the two props of the Carthaginian power in Africa, and before he attempts to turn this power out of its seat his first aim is to upset its stability, by taking away one prop and knocking away the other. Just as he has gained this end, passion once more intervenes to threaten his military achievement as it previously thwarted his diplomacy, but the psychological master-move by which he foils Sophonisba’s wiles averts the danger.

  Now assured of security he aims at Carthage itself, and characteristically pauses in sight of Carthage to achieve, if possible, the supreme economy of force of a moral victory instead of the drain of a physical siege. The move succeeds, and Carthage capitulates with Hannibal still across the seas, helpless to aid. And when by a gross breach of faith the treaty is violated, Scipio is not caught off his guard. By a fresh and rapid series of moves, a perfect combination of military, economic, and psychological pieces, he achieves the checkmate in a brief span of time. Is there anything in history which for continuity of policy, combination of forces—material and moral,—and completeness of attainment can compare with it ? ? Scipio is the embodiment of grand strategy, as his campaigns are the supreme example in history of its meaning.

  Alexander certainly preceded Scipio as the first grand strategist, but without arguing the question how far his moral and economic action was fortuitous rather than marked by the exquisite calculation of Scipio’s, his task was much simpler, and as a despot he had none of Scipio’s internal obstacles to surmount. It is, above all, because of the close parallel with modern conditions, political and organic, that Scipio’s grand strategy is so living a study for us to-day.

  Alexander’s achievements may have excelled Scipio’s in scale—not really so much, for if Alexander established for himself an empire from the Danube to the Indus, which collapsed on his death, Scipio built for Rome an empire which stretched from the Atlantic to the Black Sea and the Taurus mountains—an empire which endured and increased. And whereas Alexander built on the foundations laid by Philip, Scipio came on the scene at a moment when the very foundations of Roman power in Italy were shaken by a foreign foe. There are grave blemishes, too, on Alexander’s strategy—while he was consolidating his offensive base in Asia Minor, he was in acute danger of losing his home base in Europe. By the disbandment of his fleet he exposed the European coasts to the superior Persian fleet, and Darius’s one able commander, Memnon, seized the chance to raise Greece, where the embers of discontent smouldered in Alexander’s rear. Only Memnon’s death saved Alexander from disaster, and gained time for him to carry out his plan of crippling Persian sea power by land attack on their naval bases. Again, by lack of strategical reconnaissance, Alexander blundered past the army of Darius, lyi
ng in wait in northern Syria, which moved down and cut his communications, a danger from which he only saved himself, facing about, by tactical victory at Issus. It is well to contrast this with Scipio’s thorough strategical reconnaissance and search for information before every move. If Alexander’s grand strategy has a narrow advantage by the test of quantity, Scipio’s is clearly superior in quality.

  In the comparison of Scipio with Napoleon, if the latter’s superiority in logistical strategy is recognised, we have to set against this both his tactical and his grand strategical inferiority. As a grand strategist Napoleon’s claims are marred not only by his failure to realise the aim of grand strategy—a prosperous and secure peace,—but by his several blunders over the psychology of his opponents, over the political and economic effects of his actions, and in the extravagant later use of his forces and resources.

  Finally, let us point out that while Alexander had the military foundations laid by Philip to build on, while Hannibal built on Hamilcar, Cæsar on Marius, Napoleon on Carnot—Scipio had to rebuild on disaster.

  From the comparison of generalship we pass to the comparison of character. Here, to enumerate at length the qualities which distinguished Scipio as a man would be wearisome. His moderation, his self-control, his human sympathy, his charm of manner, his magnetic influence over troops—shared by all the greatest captains,—his exaltation of spirit, these have shone through his deeds and speeches. Of his private life we know little save by inference. He married Æmilia, daughter of the consul Æmilius Paullus who fell at Cannæ, the marriage apparently taking place after his return from Spain and before his departure for Africa.

  From the solitary anecdote or two which survive, the marriage seems to have been a happy one, and Scipio to have shown more deference to his wife’s opinion than was common at the time. That she had tastes too expensive for Cato’s liking seems assured; she was probably one of those leaders of Roman female society against whom he directed his complaints—that by wearing “ a garment of various colours, or riding in a carriage drawn by horses ” in the towns, they would undermine the social fabric and create discontent. The indulgence shown by Scipio to his wife, and his breach with tradition in treating her better than his slave, was certainly one of the factors which rankled in Cato’s mind. Of the moral influence distilled in the Scipio family life, the best proof is an indirect one. Their daughter Cornelia was given in marriage to Tiberius Gracchus, apparently after he had so generously defended Scipio’s s reputation, and was the mother of the Gracchi. The way in which she carried out their education, and the principles with which she inspired these future reformers, make one of history’s noblest pages.

  Outside the domestic sphere, Scipio’s influence on social history rests on his love for and introduction of Greek literature and philosophy. “ A man of great intellectual culture,” he could speak and write Greek as well as he could Latin—he is said to have written his own memoirs in Greek. To his Greek studies he clearly owed that philosophy of life which permeates all his recorded acts and sayings. He seems to have taken the best elements from Greece and Rome, and to have blended them—renning the crudeness and narrowness of early republican Rome without diminishing its virility. So marked was his influence that he may, with some justice, be termed the founder of Roman civilisation. “ To him is attributed the rise of manners, the origin of their taste for propriety, and of their love of letters.” A rather touching instance of his own love of letters is enshrined in his friendship and admiration for the poet Ennius, a regard so profound that he left orders that after his death a bust of the poet should be placed with his in the tomb of the Scipios. Yet it was this very influence as an apostle of civilisation and of the humanities that earned him the bitter animosity, as it stimulated the fear, of Romans of the old school. Cato and his kind might have forgiven his military success and his self-confidence, but nothing but his downfall could atone for his crime in introducing Greek customs, philosophy, and literature. It is not unlikely that this damaged him, and undermined his influence even more than his contempt for pettier minds and his moderation to conquered foes. These are the only charges which his enemies could bring against his character, and in this fact lies perhaps the strongest proof of his superior moral nobility. For the malice of an enemy will fasten on any conceivable weakness, and thus the charges levied against a great man form a standard of moral measure which is one of the best of comparisons.

  From this test Scipio alone of the great captains of antiquity emerges scatheless of any charge that suggests a definite moral blemish. It is true that we can discount most of the charges brought against Hannibal—impiety, avarice, perfidy, and cruelty beyond the customs of his day. But Alexander, whatever allowance we make in other accusations, stands convicted of want of self-control, violent outbursts of temper and prejudice, cruel injustice as to Parmenio, ambitious egotism verging on megalomania, and ruffianism in his cups. Alexander was tarred with the brush of Achilles.

  Similarly, Cæsar’s many great qualities cannot disguise his sexual license, his political corruption and intrigue, and the predominantly selfish motives which inspired his work and achievements. There are interesting parallels between the careers of Caesar and Scipio. Compare Caesar gaining the province of Gaul by intrigue and threat, Scipio the province of Spain at the call of his country in the hour of adversity. Compare Caesar forming and training an army for the conquest of Rome, Scipio for the salvation of Rome from her foreign foes. Compare Caesar crossing the Rubicon, Scipio the Bagradas —and their objects. Compare Cæsar receiving the honour of a triumph over fellow-Romans, Scipio over Syphax and Hannibal. Lastly, if it be true that “ a man can be known by the friends he keeps,” compare Catiline with Lælius and Ennius. Napoleon’s saying that “ Laurels are no longer so when covered with the blood of citizens,” comes curiously from his lips. For Napoleon’s ambition drained the blood of France as surely as Caesar’s spilt the blood of Rome. It would suffice to strip the laurels from the brows of both, and enhance the contrast with Scipio, the supreme economist of blood and of force in the selfless service of his country. It is not difficult to guess why Napoleon should ignore Scipio in his list of military models !

  By any moral test Scipio is unique among the greater captains, possessing a greatness and purity of soul which we might anticipate, not necessarily find, among the leaders of philosophy or religion, but hardly among the world’s supreme men of action. The clergyman who, a century ago, was Scipio’s one English biographer, and whose work suffers by its brevity, its historical slips and the omission of all study of Scipio as a soldier, had yet one flash of rare insight and epigrammatic genius when he said that Scipio was “ greater than the greatest of bad men, and better than the reputed best of good ones.”

  Last of all we turn to Scipio as statesman—that part of his grand strategy which lies definitely in the state of peace. The Abbé Seran de la Tour, who compiled a life of Scipio in 1739, dedicated it to Louis XV., and in his dedication wrote: “ A king has only to take for his model the greatest man by far in the whole of Roman history, Scipio Africanus. Heaven itself seems to have formed this particular hero to mark out to the rulers of this world the art of governing with justice.” The lesson, we are afraid, was lost on Louis XV., a man who at the council table “ opened his mouth, said little, and thought not at all,” whose life is as full of vulgar vice as it is bare of higher aims. We suspect the Abbé of a capacity for subtle sarcasm.

  When Scipio came on the stage of history, Rome’s power did not even extend over the whole of Italy and Sicily, and this narrow territorial sway was gravely menaced by the encroachments, and still more the presence, of Hannibal. At Scipio’s death Rome was the unchallenged mistress of the whole Mediterranean world, without a single possible rival on the horizon. This period saw by far the greatest expansion in the whole of Roman history, and it was due either directly to Scipio’s action, or made possible by him. But if territorially he stands out as the founder of the Roman Empire, politically
his aim was not the absorption but the control of other Mediterranean races. He followed, but enlarged, the old Roman policy, his purpose not to establish a centralised, a despotic empire, but a confederation with a head, in which Rome should have the political and commercial supremacy, and over which her will should be paramount. Here lies the close parallel with modern conditions, which gives to the study of his policy a peculiar and vital interest. Caesar’s work paved the way for the decline and fall of Roman power. Scipio’s work made possible a world community of virile States, acknowledging the overlordship of Rome, but retaining the independent internal organs necessary for the nourishment and continued life of the body politic. Had his successors possessed but a tithe of the wisdom and vision of Scipio, the Roman Empire might have taken a course analogous to that of the modern British Empire, and by the creation of a ring of semi - independent and healthy buffer States around the heart of Roman power, the barbarian invasions might have been thwarted, the course of history changed, and the progress of civilisation have escaped a thousand years of coma and nearly as much of convalescence.

  His peace terms alone would place Scipio on a pinnacle among the world’s great conquerors—his entire absence of vindictiveness, his masterly insurance of military security with a minimum of hardship to the conquered, his strict avoidance of annexation of any civilised State. They left no festering sores of revenge or injury, and so prepared the way for the conversion of enemies into real allies, effective props of the Roman power. In the meaning of Scipio’s name—a. “ staff ”—was epitomised his grand strategy in war and peace.

  The character of his policy was in tune with his character as a man, disdaining the tinsel glory of annexation as of kingship, for the solid gold of beneficent leadership. Scipio laboured for the good and greatness of Rome, but he was no narrow patriot, instead a true world statesman. The distinction between Scipio and Caesar has been crystallised in the phrase, “ Zama gave the world to Rome, Pharsalus gave it to Cæsar,” but even this does not render Scipio full justice, for he could look beyond the greatness of Rome’s glory to the greatness of her services to humanity. Not an internationalist, he was a supra-nationalist in the widest and best sense.