“But there is an alternative source of soldiers, a source ready and eager to volunteer to serve Rome as soldiers! I am referring to the men of the Head Count, the citizens of Rome or of Italy who are too poor to have a vote in the Centuries, too poor to own land or businesses, too poor to buy soldiers’ gear! But it is time, People of Rome, that the thousands upon thousands of these men should be called upon to do more for Rome than queue up whenever cheap grain is offered, push and shove their way into the Circus on holidays in search of gratification, breed sons and daughters they cannot feed! The fact that they have no worth should not make them worthless! Nor do I for one believe that they love Rome any less than any man of substance! In fact, I believe their love for Rome is purer by far than the love displayed by most of the honorable members of the Senate!”
Marius raised himself up in swelling indignation, threw wide his arms to embrace, it seemed, the whole of Rome. “I am here with the College of Tribunes at my back to seek a mandate from you, the People, which the Senate will not give me! I am asking you for the right to call upon the military potential of the Head Count! I want to turn the men of the Head Count from useless insignificants into soldiers of Rome’s legions! I want to offer the men of the Head Count gainful employment—a profession rather than a trade!—a future for themselves and their families with honor and prestige and an opportunity to advance! I want to offer them a consciousness of dignity and worth, a chance to play no mean part in the onward progress of Rome the Mighty!”
He paused; the Comitia stared up at him in profound silence, all eyes fixed on his fierce face, his glaring eyes, the indomitable thrust of chin and chest. “The Conscript Fathers of the Senate are denying these thousands upon thousands of men their chance! Denying me the chance to call upon their services, their loyalty, their love of Rome! And for what? Because the Conscript Fathers of the Senate love Rome more than I do? No! Because they love themselves and their own class more than they love Rome or anything else! So I have come to you, the People, to ask you to give me—and give Rome!—what the Senate will not! Give me the capite censi, People of Rome! Give me the humblest, the lowliest! Give me the chance to turn them into a body of citizens Rome can be proud of, a body of citizens Rome can make use of instead of merely enduring, a body of citizens equipped and trained and paid by the State to serve the State with hearts and bodies as soldiers! Will you give me what I ask? Will you give Rome what Rome needs?”
And the shouting began, the cheering, the stamping of feet, the audible breaking of a tradition ten centuries old. Nine tribunes of the plebs looked sideways at each other, and agreed without speaking not to interpose a veto; for all of them liked living.
*
“Gaius Marius,” said Marcus Aemilius Scaurus in the House when the lex Manila had been passed, empowering the consuls of the day to call for volunteers among the capite censi, “is a ravening, slavering wolfshead, running amok! Gaius Marius is a pernicious ulcer upon the body of this House! Gaius Marius is the single most obvious reason why, Conscript Fathers, we should close our ranks against New Men, never even permit them a seat at the very back of this venerable establishment! What, I ask you, does a Gaius Marius know about the nature of Rome, the imperishable ideals of its traditional government?
“I am Princeps Senatus—the Leader of the House—and in all my many years within this body of men I love as the manifestation of the spirit of Rome it is, never have I seen a more insidious, dangerous, piratical individual than Gaius Marius! Twice within three months he has taken the hallowed prerogatives of the Senate and smashed them on the uncouth altar of the People! First he nullified our senatorial edict giving Quintus Caecilius Metellus an extended command in Africa. And now, to gratify his own ambitions, he exploits the ignorance of the People to grant him powers of recruitment of soldiers that are unnatural, unconscionable, unreasonable, and unacceptable!”
The meeting was heavily attended; of the 300 living senators, over 280 had come to this session of the House, winkled out of their homes and even their sickbeds by Scaurus and the other leaders. And they sat upon their little folding stools in the three rising tiers along either side of the Curia Hostilia like a huge flock of snowy hens gone to roost on their perches, only the purple-bordered togas of those who had been senior magistrates to relieve that blinding, shadowless mass of white. The ten tribunes of the plebs sat upon their long wooden bench on the floor of the House, to one side of the only other magistrates accorded the distinction of isolation from the main body—two curule aediles, six praetors, and two consuls—all seated upon their beautiful carved ivory chairs raised up on a dais at the far end of the hall, opposite the pair of huge bronze doors which gave entrance to the chamber.
On that dais sat Gaius Marius, next to and slightly behind the senior consul, Cassius, his isolation purely one of the spirit; Marius appeared calm, content, almost catlike, and he listened to Scaurus without dismay, without anger. The deed was done. He had his mandate. He could afford to be magnanimous.
“This House must do whatever it can to limit the power Gaius Marius has just given the Head Count. For the Head Count must remain what it has always been—a useless collection of hungry mouths we who are more privileged must care for, feed, and tolerate—without ever asking it for any service in return. For while it does no work for us and has no use, it is no more and no less than a simple dependant, Rome’s wife who toils not, and has no power, and no voice. It can claim nothing from us that we are not willing to give it, for it does nothing. It simply is.
“But thanks to Gaius Marius we now find ourselves faced with all the problems and grotesqueries of what I must call an army of professional soldiers—men who have no other source of income, no other way of making a living—men who will want to stay on in the army from campaign to campaign—men who will cost the State enormous sums of money. And, Conscript Fathers, men who will claim they now have a voice in Rome’s scheme of things, for they do Rome a service, they work for Rome. You heard the People. We of the Senate, who administer the Treasury and apportion out Rome’s public funds, must dig into Rome’s coffers and find the money to equip Gaius Marius’s army with arms, armor, and all the other gear of war. We are also directed by the People to pay these soldiers on a regular basis instead of at the very end of a campaign, when booty is available to help defray the outlay. The cost of fielding armies of insolvent men will financially break the back of the State, there can be no doubt of it.”
“Nonsense, Marcus Aemilius!” Marius interjected. “There is more money in Rome’s Treasury than Rome knows what to do with—because, Conscript Fathers, you never spend any of it! All you do is hoard it.”
The rumbling began, the faces started to mottle, but Scaurus held up his right arm for silence, and got it. “Yes, Rome’s Treasury is full,” he said. “That is how a treasury should be! Even with the cost of the public works I instituted while censor, the Treasury remains full. But in the past there have been times when it was very empty indeed. The three wars we fought against Carthage brought us to the very brink of fiscal disaster. So what, I ask you, is wrong with making sure that never happens again? While her Treasury is full, Rome is prosperous.”
“Rome will be more prosperous because the men of her Head Count have money in their purses to spend,” said Marius.
“That is not true, Gaius Marius!” cried Scaurus. “The men of the Head Count will fritter their money away—it will disappear from circulation and never grow.”
He walked from where he stood at his stool in the front row of the seated tiers, and positioned himself near the great bronze doors, where both sides of the House could see as well as hear him.
“I say to you, Conscript Fathers, that we must resist with might and main in the future whenever a consul avails himself of the lex Manila and recruits among the Head Count. The People have specifically ordered us to pay for Gaius Marius’s army, but there is nothing in the law as it has been inscribed to compel us to pay for the equipping of whichever is the next ar
my of paupers! And that is the tack we must take. Let the consul of the future cull all the paupers he wants to fill up the ranks of his legions—but when he applies to us, the custodians of Rome’s monies, for the funds to pay his legions as well as to outfit them, we must turn him down.
“The State cannot afford to field an army of paupers, it is that simple. The Head Count is feckless, irresponsible, without respect for property or gear. Is a man whose shirt of mail was given to him free of charge, its cost borne by the State, going to look after his shirt of mail? No! Of course he won’t! He’ll leave it lying about in salt air or downpours to rust, he’ll pull up stakes in a camp and forget to take it with him, he’ll drape it over the foot of the bed of some foreign whore and then wonder why she stole it in the night to equip her Scordisci boyfriend! And what about the time when these paupers are no longer fit enough to serve in the legions? Our traditional soldiers are owners of property, they have homes to return to, money invested, a little solid, tangible worth to them! Where pauper veterans will be a menace, for how many of them will save any of the money the State pays them? How many will bank their share of the booty? No, they will emerge at the end of their years of paid service without homes to go to, without the wherewithal to live. Ah yes, I hear you say, but what’s strange about that, to them? They live from hand to mouth always. But, Conscript Fathers, these military paupers will grow used to the State’s feeding them, clothing them, housing them. And when upon retirement all that is taken away, they will grumble, just as any wife who has been spoiled will grumble when the money is no longer there. Are we then going to be called upon to find a pension for these pauper veterans?
“It must not be allowed to happen! I repeat, fellow members of this Senate I lead, that our future tactics must be designed to pull the teeth of those men conscienceless enough to recruit among the Head Count by adamantly refusing to contribute one sestertius toward the cost of their armies!”
Gaius Marius rose to reply. “A more shortsighted and ridiculous attitude would be hard to find in a Parthian satrap’s harem, Marcus Aemilius! Why won’t you understand? If Rome is to hold on to what is even at this moment Rome’s, then Rome must invest in all her people, including the people who have no entitlement to vote in the Centuries! We are wasting our farmers and small businessmen by sending them to fight, especially when we dower them with brainless incompetents like Carbo and Silanus—oh, are you there, Marcus Junius Silanus? I am sorry!
“What’s the matter with availing ourselves of the services of a very large section of our society which until this time has been about as much use to Rome as tits on a bull? If the only real objection we can find is that we’re going to have to be a bit freer with the mouldering contents of the Treasury, then we’re as stupid as we are shortsighted! You, Marcus Aemilius, are convinced that the men of the Head Count will prove dismal soldiers. Well, I think they’ll prove wonderful soldiers! Are we to continue to moan about paying them? Are we going to deny them a retirement gift at the end of their active service? That’s what you want, Marcus Aemilius!
“But I would like to see the State part with some of Rome’s public lands so that upon retirement, a soldier of the Head Count can be given a small parcel of land to farm or to sell. A pension of sorts. And an infusion of some badly needed new blood into the more than decimated ranks of our smallholding farmers. How can that be anything but good for Rome? Gentlemen, gentlemen, why can’t you see that Rome can grow richer only if Rome is willing to share its prosperity with the sprats in its sea as well as the whales?”
But the House was on its feet in an uproar, and Lucius Cassius Longinus, the senior consul, decided prudence was the order of the day. So he closed the meeting, and dismissed the Conscript Fathers of the Senate.
*
Marius and Sulla set out to find 20,480 infantrymen, 5,120 noncombatant freemen, 4,000 noncombatant slaves, 2,000 cavalry troopers, and 2,000 noncombatant cavalry support men.
“I’ll do Rome; you can do Latium,” said Marius, purring. “I very much doubt that either of us will have to go as far afield as Italy. We’re on our way, Lucius Cornelius! In spite of the worst they could do, we’re on our way. I’ve conscripted Gaius Julius, our father-in-law, to deal with arms and armor manufactories and contractors, and I’ve sent to Africa for his sons—we can use them. I don’t find either Sextus or Gaius Junior the stuff true leaders are made of, but they’re excellent subordinates, as hardworking and intelligent as they are loyal.”
He led the way into his study, where two men were waiting. One was a senator in his middle thirties whose face Sulla vaguely knew, the other was a lad of perhaps eighteen.
Marius proceeded to introduce them to his quaestor.
“Lucius Cornelius, this is Aulus Manlius, whom I’ve asked to be one of my senior legates.” That was the senator. One of the patrician Manliuses, thought Sulla; Marius did indeed have friends and clients from all walks.
“And this young man is Quintus Sertorius, the son of a cousin of mine, Maria of Nersia, always called Ria. I’m seconding him to my personal staff.” A Sabine, thought Sulla; they were, he had heard, of tremendous value in an army—a little unorthodox, terrifically brave, indomitable of spirit.
“All right, it’s time to get to work,” said the man of action, the man who had been waiting over twenty years to implement his ideas as to what the Roman army ought to be.
“We will divide our duties. Aulus Manlius, you’re in charge of getting together the mules, carts, equipment, non-combatants, and all the staples of supply from food to artillery. My brothers-in-law, the two Julius Caesars, will be here any day now, and they’ll assist you. I want you ready to sail for Africa by the end of March. You can have any other help you think you may need, but might I suggest you start by finding your noncombatants, and cull the best of them to pitch in with you as you go? That way, you’ll save money, as well as begin to train them.”
The lad Sertorius was watching Marius, apparently fascinated, while Sulla found the lad Sertorius more fascinating than he did Marius, used as he was by now to Marius. Not that Sertorius was sexually attractive, he wasn’t; but he did have a power about him that was odd in one so young. Physically he promised to be immensely powerful when he reached maturity, and maybe that contributed to Sulla’s impression, for though he was tall, he was already so solidly muscular that he gave an impression of being short; he had a square, thick-necked head and a pair of remarkable eyes, light brown, deep-set, and compelling.
“I myself intend to sail by the end of April with the first group of soldiers,” Marius went on, gazing at Sulla. “It will be up to you, Lucius Cornelius, to continue organizing the rest of the legions, and find me some decent cavalry. If you can get it all done and sail by the end of Quinctilis, I’ll be happy.” He turned his head to grin at young Sertorius. “As for you, Quintus Sertorius, I’ll keep you on the hop, rest assured! I can’t have it said that I keep relatives of mine around doing nothing.”
The lad smiled, slowly and thoughtfully. “I like to hop, Gaius Marius,” he said.
*
The Head Count flocked to enlist; Rome had never seen anything like it, nor had anyone in the Senate expected such a response from a section of the community it had never bothered to think about save in times of grain shortages, when it was prudent to supply the Head Count with cheap grain to avoid troublesome rioting.
Within scant days the number of volunteer recruits of full Roman citizen status had reached 20,480—but Marius declined to stop recruiting.
“If they’re there to take, we’ll take them,” he said to Sulla. “Metellus has six legions, I don’t see why I ought not to have six legions. Especially with the State funding the costs! It won’t ever happen again, if we are to believe dear Scaurus, and Rome may have need of those two extra legions, my instincts tell me. We won’t get a proper campaign mounted this year anyway, so we’ll do better to concentrate on training and equipping. The nice thing is, these six legions will all be Roman citizen le
gions, not Italian auxiliaries. That means we still have the Italian proletarii to tap in years to come, as well as plenty more Roman Head Count.”
It all went according to plan, which was not surprising when Gaius Marius was in the command tent, Sulla found out. By the end of March, Aulus Manlius was en route from Neapolis to Utica, his transports stuffed with mules, ballistae, catapults, arms, tack, and all the thousand and one items which gave an army teeth. The moment Aulus Manlius was landed in Utica, the transports returned to Neapolis and picked up Gaius Marius, who sailed with only two of his six legions. Sulla remained behind in Italy to get the other four legions outfitted and into order, and find the cavalry. In the end he went north to the regions of Italian Gaul on the far side of the Padus River, where he recruited magnificent horse troopers of Gallo-Celtic background.
There were other changes in Marius’s army, above and beyond its Head Count composition. For these were men who had no tradition of military service, and so were completely ignorant of what it entailed. And so were in no position to resist change, or to oppose it. For many years the old tactical unit called the maniple had proven too small to contend with the massive, undisciplined armies the legions often had to fight; the cohort—three times the size of the maniple—had been gradually supplanting it in actual practice. Yet no one had officially regrouped the legions into cohorts rather than maniples, or restructured its centurion hierarchy to deal with cohorts rather than maniples. But Gaius Marius did, that spring and summer of the year of his first consulship. Except as a pretty parade-ground unit, the maniple now officially ceased to exist; the cohort was supreme.
The First Man in Rome Page 37