Tales of History: Scipio and Hannibal

This One Is For The Boys

I’m a sucker for history and a good story, but getting both at the same time?

Oh, be still my heart!

The Punic Wars have both captured public imagination and fascinated historians from the moment the ocurred, and namely due to the pure, unadulterated genius of one man: that most famous of Carthaginians, Hannibal Barca.

Arguably one of the best generals to have ever lived, Hannibal brought Rome to their knees.

Rome.

Fucking Rome! (Yes, that Rome)

Conquering legions? Impressive engineering? Dudes in togas whose penchant for logistics grew into such a daunting force that all of Eurasia trembled at the very mention of “SPQR?”

Yeah, Hannibal made them his personal bitch.

For *years,* dear reader.

That is, he did until he met the man who would eventually defeat him: Scipio. Or, as he would be commonly referred to in drinking circles of the time: Scipio Africanus, The Conqueror of Africa.

Presumptuous, perhaps, given that Carthage “only” controlled northern Africa, but that only shows you how big a player Carthage was in the World Stage.

The Punic Wars themselves had dragged on for forty three years before Hannibal was finally defeated, and then only because Scipio had been able to spend his entire young adult life studying the man, becoming, ironically, Hannibal’s primary disciple. It was that very study which permitted Scipio significant enough insight into Hannibal’s tactics, his tendencies, his *mind,* which allowed him to outfox the old salt and ultimately bring the Wars to an end with a Roman victory at the Battle of Zama.

Miraculously both men survived the battle, and while both were to eventually experience such vitriol and spite from their fellow citizens they would voluntarily exile themselves from the very countries they had fought so hard and sacrificed so much for, there was one shining moment in time where their paths were destined to cross once again.

Not as enemies, no, but as guests.

Chronicled by Plutarch, Livy, and others, there came a time in the court of the King of Ephesus where Hannibal: The Terror of Rome and Scipio: The Conqueror of Africa came face to face…and shared a drink.

Is your inner nerd pitching a tent, yet? I know mine is.

There are several versions of the conversation, of course. Some say they didn’t speak at all, merely glared at each other over the rims of their wine glasses until each could take their leave without insulting the hospitality of their host. Others say they spoke tersely, exchanging bitter words as they sneered and spat increasingly course expletives the further they sank into their cups.

And yet others, dear reader, tell a different tale.

Here Scipio and Hannibal forego the chaotic debauchery of their host’s party to instead sit apart from each other at a table and simply…speak.

Scipio is reported to have faced Hannibal- the boogeyman of his time- and asked him (amongst other things) who he thought to be the best general to have ever lived. Hannibal pondered this for some time before stating that there were three. First, as the supreme general, came Alexander the Great, for his ability to outmaneuver superior forces and for being the first to have travelled to and conquered such distant regions. After a long pause Hannibal conceded Pyrrhys must naturally be the second, due to the man’s ability to choose the ground on which he placed his troops. When Scipio pressed Hannibal to name who he thought deserved to be counted amongst such historical titans as the third, Hannibal instantly named himself.

A stunned Scipio reportedly laughed in disbelief, and asked  “And what would you say if you had defeated me instead of the other way around?” To which Hannibal is said to have smiled and replied, “Then I would have placed myself before Alexander, Pyrrhus, and all generals yet to live.”

Historians have poured over this conversation, weighing implied slights and compliments in the exchange. Some say Scipio was embittered by Hannibal’s refusal to acknowledge him as the man’s superior. Others mock Hannibal for being a narcissist.

For myself I choose to believe that the two men were able to take the joke and share a good laugh, speaking perhaps not as old friends, but as two veterans who knew that they and they alone could truly appreciate what the other had endured and achieved.

Generals trading barbs are rare throughout history, and many historians count the two men even meeting as entirely apocryphal, and, yet, I choose to think it could have been. If only because, having embraced the study of history as a personal pastime I know that weirder things have happened.

So what do you think, dear reader?

Did the two men meet? Did they throw shade each other if they did? Or did they share begrudging respect or, dare I ask, a certain comradery as they realized the man sitting across from him may well have been the closest living being he had to himself, a muddled reflection staring back at him from opposite sides of the mirror of the Mediterranean?