Scipio Africanus (7 page)

The treachery of Illiturgis was then avenged in a manner so drastic as to be an object-lesson of its requital, the inhabitants put to the sword,
and the city itself razed to the ground. Here apparently Scipio made no attempt to restrain the fury of the troops, though, as he was to show on the morrow of Zama, he could be generous beyond comparison to an open foe. In all his acts he evidently envisaged the future, and even in allowing the obliteration of Illiturgis he had a direct purpose. For the news so shook the defenders of Castulo, an obstacle made the more formidable because the garrison had been reinforced by the remains of the Carthaginian forces, that the Spanish commander, throwing over his allies, secretly capitulated. The moral purpose of the Illiturgis sack thus accomplished, Castulo escaped more lightly.

Then, sending Marcius to clear up the few remaining centres of disaffection, Scipio returned to Cartagena to pay his vows to the gods, and to give a gladiatorial show in memory of his father and uncle. This deserves passing mention, for whether due to chance or, as seems more likely, to Scipio's taste, its nature was different from the normal contest. Instead of the gladiators being slaves or captives, doomed to fight “ to make a Roman holiday,” they were all voluntary and unpaid, either picked representatives of tribes or soldiers anxious to show their prowess in compliment to their general or for desire of glory. Nor were they all of obscure
position, but included several men of distinction, so that these games at Cartagena might be considered the birthplace of the mediaeval tourney. Some, too, used it as a means to settle personal disputes, forecasting that still later development, the duel.

It was shortly after this that deserters arrived at Cartagena from Gades, offering to betray to Scipio this last stronghold of the Carthaginian power in Spain, where Mago had collected ships, fugitive troops from outlying garrisons in Spain, and auxiliaries from the African coast across the straits. The opportunity was one not to be missed by Scipio, and he at once despatched Marcius “ with the light cohorts ” and Lælius “ with seven triremes and one quinquereme, in order that they might act in concert by land and sea ” (Livy). Apart from the light these few words shed on Scipio's grasp of the advantage of combined land and sea operations, already made evident at Cartagena, the specific mention of “ light cohorts ” would seem to have a significance. From Cartagena to Gades is a full four hundred miles. To detach light troops, purely, for a move of this range—a landmark in military evolution—suggests Scipio's appreciation not only of the time factor, but also of the advantage of a highly mobile striking force in situations where rapidity was the coping-stone on opportunity.

The likelihood also is that he intended to follow with his legions ; but if so, this and his plans in general were upset by a severe illness, which laid him low. Exaggerated by rumour, reports that he was dead soon spread throughout the land, causing such commotion that “ neither did the allies keep their allegiance nor the army their duty.”

Mandonius and Andobales, dissatisfied because after the expulsion of the Carthaginians the Romans had not obligingly walked out and left them in possession, raised the standard of revolt, and began harassing the territory of the tribes faithful to the Roman alliance. As so often in history, the disappearance of the oppressor was the signal for dependencies to find the presence of their protector irksome. Mandonius and Andobales were but the forerunners of the American colonists and the modern Egyptians. There is no bond so irksome as that of gratitude.

But the menace of the situation was made more acute through the mutiny of the Roman troops themselves at Sucro, midway on the line of communication between Cartagena and Tarraco. It is a truism that line of communication troops are ever the least reliable, the most prone to discontent and disorder. Lack of employment, lack of plunder, were aggravated in this case by lack of pay, which had fallen into arrears. Beginning
at first with mere disregard of orders and neglect of duty, the men soon broke out into open mutiny, and, driving the tribunes out of the camp, set up in command two common soldiers, Albius and Atrius, who had been the chief instigators of the trouble.

The mutineers had anticipated that with the general disturbance resulting from Scipio's death, they would be able to plunder and exact tribute at will, while escaping notice to a large extent. But when the rumour of Scipio's death was refuted, the movement was, if not quenched, at least damped down. They were in this more subdued frame of mind when seven military tribunes arrived, sent by Scipio. These, evidently under instructions, took a mild line, inquiring as to their grievances instead of upbraiding them, and speaking to them by groups rather than attempting to address an assembly, where the mob spirit has full play at the expense of reason.

Polybius, and Livy clearly following him, tells us that Scipio, experienced as he was in war but not in dealing with sedition, felt great anxiety and perplexity. If this be so, his course of action does not suggest it. For a novice, or, indeed, for a veteran commander, his handling of the situation was a masterpiece of blended judgment, tact, and decision. He had sent collectors round to gather in the contributions
levied on the various cities for the army's maintenance, and took care to let it be known that this was to adjust the arrears of pay. Then he issued a proclamation that the soldiers should come to Carthage to receive their pay, in a body or in detached parties as they wished. At the same time he ordered the army at Carthage to prepare to march against Mandonius and Andobales. These chiefs, incidentally, had withdrawn within their own borders on hearing that Scipio was definitely alive. Thus the mutineers on the one hand felt themselves stripped of possible allies, and on the other, were emboldened to venture to Cartagena by the prospect of pay and, still more, of the army's departure. They took the precaution, however, to come in a body.

The seven tribunes who had inquired into their grievances were sent to meet them, with secret instructions to single out the ringleaders, and invite them to their own quarters to sup. The mutineers arrived at Cartagena at sunset, and while encouraged by the sight of the army's preparations to march, their suspicions were also lulled by their reception, being greeted as if they made a timely arrival to relieve the departing troops. These marched out, according to orders, at daybreak with their baggage, but on reaching the gate were halted and their baggage dumped. Then, promptly, guards were told off to bar all
the exits from the camp, and the rest of the troops to surround the mutineers. Meanwhile the latter had been summoned to an assembly, a summons which they obeyed the more readily because they imagined that the camp, and, indeed, the general himself, were at their mercy.

Their first shock was when they saw their general vigorous and full of health, far from the sick man they had supposed, and their second followed when, after a disconcerting silence, he addressed them in a manner strangely inconsistent with the apparent insecurity of his position. Livy purports to give this speech word for word and at great length, and in his rendering it is a masterpiece of oratory and of style. Polybius's is shorter and crisper, more natural too, and is prefaced by the remark that Scipio “ began to speak somewhat as follows.” The lover of literature will prefer Livy's version; but the historian, weighing the evidence of date and circumstance, will prefer to accept Polybius's version, and that as giving the general sense rather than the exact words of Scipio.

Despite these doubts, we will quote Livy for the opening phrases, because they are so telling, and because it is not unlikely that such a beginning might have been recorded with some exactitude. Saying that he was at a loss how to address them, he proceeded : “ Can I call you
countrymen, who have revolted from your country ? Or soldiers, who have rejected the command and authority of your general, and violated your solemn oath ? Can I call you enemies ? I recognise the persons, faces, and dress, and mien of fellow-countrymen ; but I perceive the actions, expressions, and intentions of enemies. For what have you wished and hoped for, but what the Illitergi and Lacetani did ? ” Next he expresses wonderment as to what grievance or what expectations had led them to revolt. If it is simply a grievance over delays of pay, caused by his illness, is such action—jeopardising their country—justified, especially as they have always been paid in full since he assumed command ? “ Mercenary troops may, indeed, sometimes be pardoned for revolting against their employers, but no pardon can be extended to those who are fighting for themselves and their wives and children. For that is just as if a man who said he had been wronged by his own father over money matters were to take up arms to kill him who was the author of his life ” (Polybius). If the cause is not merely a grievance, is it because they hoped for more profit and plunder by taking service with the enemy ? If so, who would be their possible allies ? Men like Andobales and Mandonius ; a fine thing to put their trust in such repeated turncoats !
Then he turns his scorn on the leaders they have chosen, ignorant and baseborn, parodying their names, Atrius and Albius—“ Blackie ” and “ Whitie,”—and so appealing to their sense of the ridiculous and their superstition. He throws in a grim reminder of the legion which revolted at Rhegium, and for it suffered beheading to the last man. But even these put themselves under command of a military tribune. What hope of successful revolt could they have entertained ? Even had the rumour of his death been correct, did they imagine that such tried leaders as Silanus, Lælius, or Scipio's brother could have failed to avenge the insult to Rome ?

When he has shattered their confidence and stimulated their fears by such telling arguments, the way is paved for him to detach them from the instigators of the revolt and to win back their loyalty. Changing his tone from harshness to gentleness, he continues: “ I will plead for you to Rome and to myself, using a plea universally acknowledged among men—that all multitudes are easily misled and easily impelled to excesses, so that a multitude is ever liable to the same changes as the sea. For as the sea is by its own nature harmless to voyagers and quiet, yet when agitated by winds it appears of the same turbulent character as the winds, so a multitude ever appears to be and actually is of the
same character as the leaders and counsellors it happens to have.” In Livy's version he makes also a deftly sympathetic comparison, well calcu lated to touch their hearts, between his own recent sickness of body and their sickness of mind. “ Therefore I, too, on the present occasion ... consent to be reconciled to you, and grant you an amnesty. But with the guilty instigators of revolt we refuse to be reconciled, and have decided to punish for their offences....” As he finished speaking, the loyal troops, who had encircled the assembly, clashed their swords on their shields to strike terror into the mutineers ; the herald's voice was heard citing by name the condemned agitators ; and these offenders were brought bound and naked into the midst of the assembly, and then executed in the sight of all. It was a perfectly timed and concerted plan, and the mutineers were too cowed to raise a hand or utter a protest. The punishment carried out, the mass received assurance of forgiveness, and took a fresh oath of loyalty to the tribunes. By a characteristic touch of Scipio's, each man received his full demand of pay as he answered his name.

This masterly handling of a gravely menacing situation has more than a reminder of Pétain's methods in quelling the mutinies of 1917—had the great Frenchman perchance studied the
mutiny of Sucro ?—not only in its blend of severity to ringleaders with the just rectification of grievances, but in the way the moral health of the body military was restored with the least possible use of the knife. This was true economy of force, for it meant that the eight thousand became not merely unwilling reinforcements, cowed into acquiescence with orders, but loyal supporters.

But the suppression of this mutiny was only one step towards restoring the situation caused by Scipio's illness. The expedition against Gades had been abortive, primarily because the plot had been discovered by the Carthaginian commander, and the conspirators arrested. Though they won local successes, Lælius and Marcius found Gades prepared, and so, forced to abandon their project, returned to Cartagena.

There Scipio was about to march against the Spanish rebels. In ten days he reached the Ebro, a full three hundred miles, and four days later pitched his camp within sight of the enemy. A circular valley lay between the two camps, and into this he drove some cattle protected only by light troops, to “ excite the rapacity of the barbarians.” At the same time he placed Lælius with the cavalry in concealment behind a spur. The bait succeeded, and while the rival skirmishers were merrily engaged, Lælius emerged from cover,
part of his cavalry charging the Spanish in front, and the other part riding round the foot of the hill to cut them off from their camp. The consequent reverse so irritated the Spanish that next morning at daybreak their army marched out to offer battle.

This suited Scipio excellently, for the valley was so confined that the Spanish by this act committed themselves to a cramped close quarter combat on the level, where the peculiar aptitude of the Romans in hand-to-hand fighting gave them an initial advantage over troops more adapted to hill fighting at longer ranges. And, furthermore, in order to find room for their horse they were forced to leave one-third of their foot out of the battle, stationed on the slope behind.

The conditions suggested a fresh expedient to Scipio. The valley was so narrow that the Spanish could not post their cavalry on the flanks of the infantry line, which took up the whole space. Seeing this, Scipio realised that his own infantry flanks were automatically secured, and accordingly sent Lælius with the cavalry round by the hills in a wide turning movement. Then, ever alive to the vital importance of securing his intended manœuvre by a vigorous fixing attack, he himself advanced into the valley with his infantry, with four cohorts in front, this being the most he could
effectively deploy on the narrow front. This thrust, as he intended, occupied the attention of the Spanish, and prevented them from observing the cavalry manoeuvre until the blow fell, and they heard the noise of the cavalry engagement in their rear. Thus the Spanish were forced to fight two separate battles, their cavalry neither able to aid their infantry, nor the infantry their cavalry, and each doomed to the demoralising sound of conflict in their rear, so that each action had a moral reaction on the other.