Military manpower allowed the Republic to field very large armies of patriotically committed citizen soldiers and permitted it to adopt an especially determined approach to warfare. The Romans proved capable of learning from mistakes and adapting the way they fought, but most striking was the refusal to accept that they had lost a conflict and the willingness to pour resources into the struggle until they prevailed. Pyrrhus’ victories would have been enough to convince most other states to negotiate. The losses inflicted by Hannibal were far worse and could not have been sustained by any other kingdom of people. Yet in each conflict the Roman Republic endured and went on to win. These wars were initiated by the other side, even if in each case this could be interpreted as having been provoked by Rome’s growing power, and the strategy of both Pyrrhus and Hannibal was an offensive to break Roman military might. There were plenty of other conflicts started by Rome’s opponents, for the Republic was not the only predator in the world.36
FAITH AND RUTHLESSNESS
The Lusitanians treacherously slaughtered and enslaved by Galba were active raiders, doing what others in the region had done in the past and would do in the future. The first-century BC Greek historian Diodorus Siculus claimed that:
One special custom is followed among the Iberians and especially among the Lusitanians: among those who are in the prime of life, those poorest in property, but outstanding in strength and courage, furnish themselves with weapons and resources, gather in the harsh mountain regions, and forming quite significant bands they overrun Iberia and collect wealth by plundering.37
Their victims were the communities living on better land, and the geographer Strabo explained that the efforts these made to defend themselves tended to escalate the violence, and over time left fields untended, as farmers were forced to turn raider or starve.38
The Lusitanian attacks were not primarily anti-Roman but the continuation of a long-established pattern of martial activity centred around raiding. The peoples of the Iberian Peninsula raided and fought each other long before the Romans – or for that matter the Carthaginians – arrived. This is abundantly clear from the frequency with which weaponry appears in the archaeological record – after all, it was the Romans who adopted the ‘Spanish’ sword. It is likely that the activities of the imperial powers of Carthage and Rome increased the intensity of indigenous warfare. In the past, mercenary service with the Carthaginians may also have removed many of the young warriors who would otherwise have turned to banditry, at least until this option was ended by Rome.39
Plundering attacks on allied communities are one of the most frequent explanations given in our sources for Roman campaigns, especially those fought on frontiers with tribal peoples in Spain, Gaul or Macedonia. As the experiences of Galba and Lucullus showed, the resulting operations were far from one-sided, with more than a few leading to serious Roman defeats. Those determined to see the Romans as invariably guilty too readily dismiss the sources as empty self-justification on the part of the conqueror. In some cases this may have been true – Lucullus’ attack on the Vaccaei might or might not fall into this category. More often the raids surely did occur, whether motivated by sheer opportunism, poverty or long-standing grudges based on earlier conflict with other local peoples or the Romans.
Failure to deal with such attacks showed weakness and invited an escalation. If the Romans could not protect allied communities, then there was little reason for these to maintain the alliance and accept their subordination to Roman authority. In that sense continued Roman control depended on defending Rome’s friends and their interests – we hear of one instance where a Roman commander attempted to return recaptured booty to its original Iberian owners, although we do not know whether or not this was normal. Therefore as the Republic’s power grew and it acquired more provinces and more allies, almost inevitably the probability of further warfare increased.40
Galba’s approach offered a short-term solution to one source of the problem. Perhaps he hoped that the terror it inspired would act as a deterrent in future, although since he was returning to Rome soon he may not have cared. By the time he was back in the City in 149 BC there were already moves to arrange the release from slavery of the surviving Lusitanians. The question was not whether it was right to enslave war captives, but instead the breach of fides to people who had surrendered themselves to Rome and been promised better treatment. Ultimately nothing came of the attempt, and as far as we know the Lusitanians spent the remainder of their lives as slaves.41
One of the most prominent supporters of the unsuccessful bid to free these slaves was the seventy-five-year-old Marcus Porcius Cato, a senior statesman and vocal champion of stern virtue. He was also one of the key figures in the attempt to prosecute Galba for his actions. The details are now obscure, and it is unclear whether or not this led to a trial or was a battle fought in the Senate and at informal public meetings. Cato had governed Nearer Spain as consul in 195 BC, so had seen frontier warfare for himself. This was also true of one of Galba’s chief defenders, who had more recent experience having governed the same province in 153 BC. Later generations forgot the details of the arguments, and instead only remembered how Galba had played on the sentiments of his audience. He paraded his young sons and foster son and made a tearful speech commending them to the protection of the Roman people if he were to be condemned. Cato wrote that ‘but for his employment of boys and blubbering, the accused would have got his deserts’.42
Galba went on to win the consulship in 144 BC and his reputation as an orator was greatly increased by his own escape from prosecution. It is worth remembering that he had suffered a serious defeat in 151 BC, reminding us that other factors as well as military victory determined the outcome of elections at Rome. Criticism of his un-doubted treachery and cruelty shows that the Romans did believe that the representatives of the Republic should behave according to certain standards. His escape, on the other hand, demonstrates that such concern might well be trumped by political connections, skilful rhetoric or plain sentiment. On the whole Rome’s elite were consistently reluctant to condemn one of their own. Even so, his attempt to be sent out again to Further Spain as consul failed due to strong opposition in the Senate.43
If Galba claimed that his brutality had been effective in ending the war, this was proved false within a few years as a survivor of the massacre proved himself an extremely capable and charismatic war leader. His name was Viriathus, and from 147 to 139 BC he raided into the Roman province, evading or defeating every army sent against him. As usual the victims of his attacks were Spanish communities, some of which were even persuaded to abandon alliance with Rome and seek his protection. In spite of the slaughter and enslavement of his kindred, Viriathus did not act out of simple hatred of Rome. His aim was the acceptance of his power by the Romans, something he achieved after letting a trapped Roman army go free in 140 BC. For a while the Lusitanian leader was acknowledged as a friend of the Roman people, before an ambitious new governor persuaded the Senate to let him renew the war. Unable to defeat him in battle, the Romans accepted an offer by some of his subordinates to murder Viriathus in return for a reward. These succeeded, but then found it difficult to claim the promised riches, even when they travelled to Rome. The war finally ended when some of the tribesmen surrendered and this time were peacefully resettled on better land.44
The death of Viriathus and the destruction of the Celtiberian stronghold of Numantia in 136 BC greatly reduced the frequency of warfare and raiding in both Spanish provinces, at least for a while. It did not altogether remove the problem and smaller-scale banditry or raiding continued, with the threat that this would increase in intensity if ever the Romans appeared weak. Strong garrisons were kept in both provinces for generations to come.45
III
FRIENDS AND RIVALS
‘At the moment fear of a war in Gaul is the main topic of conversation [in Rome]; for “our brothers” the Aedui have just fought and lost a battle, and the Helvetii are without doubt armed
for war and launching raids into our province.’ – Cicero, 15 March 60 BC.1
‘The friendship of the Roman people ought to be a distinction and a security to him, not a hindrance; and he had sought it with that hope.’ – Julius Caesar’s version of the speech made by the Germanic leader Ariovistus, late summer 58 BC.2
AMICI – THE FRIENDS OF THE ROMANS
In late summer 58 BC a Germanic king agreed to meet a Roman proconsul. The two men were in eastern Gaul, not far from the west bank of the River Rhine, and both were intruders to the region. Ariovistus, the German warlord, had arrived more than a decade earlier, called in to aid a Gallic tribe in a conflict with its neighbours, but had since come to dominate his allies and their enemies alike. The Roman was Caius Julius Caesar and he was a long way from his province of Transalpine Gaul. It was the first time that a Roman governor and his army had marched into this part of Gaul, and they had come in considerable force. He had 4,000 locally raised cavalry supplied by the Gallic tribes, other foreign auxiliaries and six Roman legions – since the enfranchisement of the Italian allies the old alae had vanished and now all Italians served as legionaries. It was a powerful force, buoyed by a victorious campaign fought earlier in the year. Ariovistus had also collected a large army of his own warriors, and they too were confident and accustomed to victory.3
The armies camped about a day’s march apart, but they were not at war, nor had their peoples ever fought each other in the past. As recently as 59 BC the German leader had been formally recognised by the Senate as king and ‘friend of the Roman people’ – amicus populi romani. Caesar had presided as consul over the session and probably proposed the vote to favour Ariovistus in this way. Even so there was wariness on both sides and it had taken prolonged negotiation via messengers to hammer out the details of the meeting. It would take place on the solitary hill in an otherwise open plain an equal distance between their two camps. Only ten men would accompany each leader, and the rest of their escort was to consist only of horsemen. Ariovistus claimed that it would be too easy for a crowd of infantrymen to surround and capture him if they chose. Not everyone was inclined to trust Rome’s much-vaunted fides, and the German had not become so successful a war leader by taking unnecessary risks.
Caesar agreed to these terms, fearing that otherwise Ariovistus would refuse to meet him at all. Unwilling to entrust his own safety to allied horsemen, he took some of their horses and gave them to men from one of his legions, the Tenth. The reliability of the legionaries was more important than their inexperience when it came to fighting as cavalry, but then this was supposed to be a parley, not a fight. Caesar tells us that the soldiers joked that he was making them equites – the social class just below the Senate, named because originally these wealthy men had provided the legions with their cavalry. By the first century BC equestrians served only as senior officers, and even the minimum property qualification for this status represented the equivalent of hundreds of years of pay for an ordinary soldier. For a while the Tenth took the nickname equestris, although few if any of its legionaries would ever rise so high.4
We know far more about this episode than most other incidents on the frontiers of Rome’s empire because Caesar wrote an account of it in the first book of his Commentaries on the Gallic War. It is more than likely that this was published early in 57 BC, although some scholars argue that all seven books of the Commentaries were written together and released when his campaigns in Gaul were almost over at the end of the decade. Even if that was the case, this still represents a detailed narrative of what happened, written by one of the key participants and set down relatively soon after the events occurred. If Caesar was scarcely an independent reporter, concerned to be fair in everything he wrote, he was there, and so for once we are not dealing with fragmentary accounts set down a century or more later by authors who had never even visited the region. He wrote for an audience of contemporary Romans, none of whom were ever likely to question the fundamental rightness of the expansion of Rome’s power. The Commentaries were intended to persuade Caesar’s fellow citizens – especially those whose votes carried the greatest sway in elections – that the proconsul was a loyal, spectacularly talented and successful servant of the Republic. He could not invent or distort the truth too grossly, since plenty of his officers regularly wrote letters home and not all were too well disposed to their commander. The basic narrative is probably close to the truth, or at least the truth as the Romans saw it.5
Others, especially Ariovistus, would no doubt have told the story differently, but then there is nothing unusual in all our sources coming from the Roman or Greek side. Other accounts add very little that does not ultimately seem to derive at second or third hand from Caesar, and even these few fragments fit well with his version. Archaeology also broadly confirms the picture he paints of Gaul in this period. One of the most striking features is the large number of big walled towns or oppida, with signs of considerable industrial activity, making them economic as well as political centres. The impression, confirmed in Caesar and other written sources, is of developing states governed by elected magistrates and minting coins conforming to Roman weights and standards.6
Trade was conducted both locally and over long distances, especially between the oppida. There was also considerable contact with the Mediterranean world. Truly vast quantities of wine went north into Gaul from Italy. One scholar estimated that more than 40,000,000 wine amphorae passed up the Rhône and Saône rivers during the first century BC, and this is probably too low a figure. Goods also went the other way, especially metal ores, including the tin vital for making bronze, as well as large numbers of slaves. Tribal states and individual leaders grew rich by controlling the main waterways and levying tolls on goods passing along them. Such wealth readily turned into power. It allowed aristocrats to maintain large numbers of warriors in their household and, unless others could match this strength, gave them the chance to dominate politics within their tribes. If other noblemen were as powerful, then it strengthened the tribe’s collective war-making capacity whenever they could be persuaded to work together.7
Inevitably the flourishing of trade increased competition between individuals and whole peoples. The Saône ran between the lands of the Sequani and the Aedui, both of whom profited and grew strong from traffic along the river, tying smaller neighbours to them as dependent allies. This led to conflict, which steadily escalated in scale as each tried to take sole control of the waterway. Both tribes were acknowledged ‘friends’ (amici) of the Roman people – as indeed were all the major states and leaders with territory near the province of Transalpine Gaul – but this shared status carried no obligation to be friends with each other. The conflict escalated in scale as allied tribes were drawn in, and over time the Aedui prevailed and this prompted some of the Sequani to seek help from outside. They enlisted the aid of Ariovistus, who brought his war band across the Rhine in return for the promise of land on which to settle. At the start there may not have been more than a few thousand warriors and their families, but over time more came to seek service and reward from this increasingly successful and famous war leader.8
The network of large oppida trading with each other had extended into the lands of the Germans, but in the generation before Caesar’s arrival something had changed. The major towns among the German tribes were abandoned or shrank to far smaller and simpler communities, no longer producing high-quality goods or trading over any great distance. It is not clear why this happened, although a worsening cycle of internal power struggles within these communities offers a plausible explanation. Incursions from aggressive neighbours, whether raiding or migrating in search of better land, may also have played a role. Either of these scenarios – or a combination of both – would readily have thrown up warlords like Ariovistus looking for opportunities as mercenaries and eager to find a permanent home.9
His arrival shifted the balance of power back in favour of the Sequani, and eventually, around 61 BC, he inflicted a devastati
ng defeat on the Aedui and their allies, killing many of their leading chieftains. Others began to perceive that the formerly strong Aedui were vulnerable, and in 60 BC they were attacked and defeated by the Helvetii, a people living in what is now Switzerland. This prompted the senior magistrate or vergobret of the Aedui to travel to Rome seeking aid. His name was Diviciacus and his tribe was Rome’s oldest ‘friend’ in the region, and more than that were referred to as ‘kinsmen’ or ‘brothers’ – perhaps because of some imagined common descent from Trojan refugees. Since their rivals had gained the upper hand through securing foreign aid, the Aedui hoped to restore their fortunes by securing the help of an even more powerful outside force.10
They were amici of the Roman people, but ‘friend’ is perhaps not quite the most exact translation of amicus, and there were other Latin words with senses closer to our concept of natural friendship. Amicitia meant something more akin to associate or an informal ally and was a term commonly employed for alliances between senators. In such a relationship the connection was one of utility rather than deep emotional attachment, and the purpose was political benefit to both parties. Almost invariably one of the two was clearly superior in prestige, influence and wealth, and the term amicus was, strictly speaking, reserved for the less important man who sought association with him.11
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