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Romans and Barbarians: Four Views From the Empire's Edge

Page 19

by Derek Williams


  Boudicca now struck swiftly at the lightly guarded towns of an already Romanized South-East. ‘Avoiding fort and strong-point, the rebels headed for where the booty was richest and protection poorest; itching to chop heads, stretch necks, burn and crucify; as if taking revenge now for the retribution which would come later. The Roman provincial dead were put at 70,000.’79 Colchester, St Albans and London were destroyed and their Roman or pro-Roman populations butchered before Boudicca was defeated, perhaps in Northampton-shire or elsewhere in the West Midlands. The queen and her family took poison. Such were Agricola’s experiences at twenty years of age and his first taste of service in Britain.

  In due course there followed the Year of the Four Emperors, with the heavy drafting of British troops to fight in the civil war. Those who stayed held steady; perhaps too busy with Wales to become involved in continental politics. None the less, reduction of the army’s numbers would have dangerous repercussions in the North. The Brigantians were, according to Tacitus, the biggest British tribe, whose territory covered almost the entirety of what is now northern England, from Peak to Solway and from coast to coast. They were shepherds and stock rearers, ruled by a rich nobility. Their forts were few but impressive, like that on the summit of Ingleborough; or the sprawling, lowland complex of Stanwick, in North Yorkshire, seemingly enlarged in panic at Rome’s advent to 730 acres! From here, or perhaps from Almondbury, near Halifax, Queen Cartimandua ruled in friendly alliance with Claudius and Nero. However, Brigantian politics included the usual anti-Roman faction and AD 69, Rome’s hour of weakness, saw a successful coup, led by Venutius, the queen’s ex-husband. Again one senses the stress set up by Rome’s proximity; sundering husband and wife as it had Armin and his brother. Venutius now thought to assume the mantle of Boudicca as leader of British resistance. He might have been less eager had he reflected that this same year, which brought him to power, also called to the purple the master-gunner, whose Wessex campaign of a generation earlier had consigned so many British strongholds to oblivion. Vespasian did not return to Britain in person but would field his strongest side in order to quicken a conquest begun twenty-six years earlier and whose termination was exasperatingly overdue. Accordingly he appointed three successive soldier-governors of unusual capability: Cerialis, Frontinus and Agricola, who would respectively take in hand the North of England, Wales and most of Scotland.

  Petilius Cerialis was the emperor’s son-in-law, a dashing general in the Caesarian mould, whose success in AD 49 had beaten Vespasian a path to the throne. He was first sent to put down a revolt on the lower Rhine. Tacitus describes his raffish and unorthodox character, careless of the trappings of discipline and a brilliant improviser. There had been a whiff of scandal. The enemy attacked while Cerialis was out of camp spending the night with a local woman. However ‘luck always covered his lapses’. It was in a speech to the Germans that Tacitus attributed to him that crisp appraisal of the Roman system: ‘no peace without armies, no armies without pay, no pay without taxes.’80

  Cerialis took Agricola to Britain as one of his legionary commanders. It was his second tour and he was now thirty-one. We know little of the campaign, doubtless because Tacitus wished to underplay this part of the biography, keeping his best cards till its hero would himself be governor. We do, however, know that Cerialis sealed off Wales then headed north, defeating Venutius on some unrecorded field.81 On the dreary Stainmore Pass is a legion-size, twenty-acre marching camp, cut in two by the modern road (A66), whose square shape and eleven gateways suggests this advance. With two similar camps in the upper Eden and Petteril Valleys, these point straight toward Carlisle, where Cerialis’ drive is thought to have ended. The IXth Hispana legion now moved up from Lincoln to York, though there is no evidence for a widespread occupation of the North at this date.

  Next came Roman Britain’s tenth governor, Julius Frontinus, author of two books on the art of war: De Rei Militari (Matters Military) and Strategematon (Strategems). The former and more important is lost. The latter, its supplement, gives examples of military ruses said to illustrate the principles of the earlier book. These are, in our view, largely nonsense. Nevertheless there was nothing nonsensical about his struggle in South Wales, where the resurgent Silurians had drawn the conclusion, from Vespasian’s campaign of vivid memory, that Rome was better fought by taking to the hills than by waiting in the hillforts. It was this adoption of guerrilla tactics, plus Rome’s preoccupation with civil war, which lengthened the Welsh involvement to thirty years and thirteen known offensives.

  Pacification of Snowdonia, followed by the second invasion of Anglesey, was left until Agricola’s first year as governor. His Welsh conquest employed the network method, in which successive mountain blocks were isolated by building roads in the surrounding valleys and placing forts at key intersections.82 Agricola would also apply this to southern Scotland; which helps explain the large number of forts and immense road mileages with which he is credited. First, however, Wales and its borders received over 700 miles of road and thirty-eight forts or fortlets, plus strategic supervision from Legio XX Valeria Victrix at Chester and II Augusta at Caerleon-on-Usk (near Newport, Gwent); though all would be held in sketchy fashion during the subsequent offensive into north Britain.

  Let us back-track for a moment, to include a happier interlude. While Frontinus was struggling in South Wales, Agricola enjoyed the governorship of Aquitania (south-western France) followed by the consulship. It was toward the end of this period that his daughter (whose name, like that of Ovid’s wife, is not mentioned in her husband’s work) married Tacitus:

  After less than three years as Governor of Aquitania he was recalled with the consulship in view. It was while he was consul that I was betrothed to his daughter: a girl of exceptional promise – and I still in my youth. On the expiry of his year of office he placed her hand in mine just before he was given the governorship of Britain.83

  So Agricola, now thirty-eight, returned to Britain as eleventh governor and commanding general of her four legions, with clear instructions from Vespasian to finish off Wales and then proceed to the subjugation of Britain in toto. In practice it meant the conquest of what is now Scotland, which would occupy most of the seven-year term of governorship and is the main subject of Tacitus’ biography. This was written some eight years after Agricola’s death, a postponement caused by the long wait for Domitian to die in turn. Nevertheless, some time after AD 96, with Domitian replaced by a humane successor, Tacitus was able to affirm: ‘At last Nerva has united the two things we had ceased to believe compatible: rule by an emperor and freedom. Meanwhile fifteen years have been erased from our lives, during which time the young became middle aged and the elderly old, all without daring to say a word.’84

  As long as Domitian lived, Tacitus, like Ovid, could be described as a literary exile, though of an opposite kind: the one able to write but condemned to live in Tomis, the other able to live where he wished but condemned to silence. Now, past forty, he was free to begin and the Agricola would be his first effort, published just before the Germania. Both are preserved in their entirety.85 The earliest known reference to an Agricola manuscript is from the monastery of Monte Casino, around the time of the Norman conquest of England. It then disappeared and was presumed lost. In 1431 the Florentine scholar Niccoli discovered a 9th-century version at the Hersfeld Monastery in southern Germany. Pope Nicholas V, an avid collector, ordered his agent Enoch of Ascoli, who scoured northern Europe for this purpose, to acquire it; and receipt was recorded by the Papal Secretary Decembrio in 1455. It was printed in Milan, c. 1475; and it is perhaps from this version that the spelling mistake Mons Grampius for Graupius first arose, beginning the tradition which saddled Scotland with the erroneous name Grampian to this day.

  Why should Vespasian favour the total conquest of Britain, irrespective of the island’s value? Unlike Spain, whose promise revived as the gold-rich, north-west corner came closer, Britain’s dwindles as one moves in that direction, in all
senses except the scenic. However, in Spain’s case the completion of conquest had brought savings as well as profit. Victory allowed defence cuts. With time these increased to the extent almost of demilitarizing the Iberian peninsula. This was a formula which could be applied to a Britain grossly over-garrisoned in relation to her worth. A supreme effort now could save indefinite occupation costs, inescapable as long as Rome sat in one part of the island with enemies at large in the other. So, 134 years after Caesar and thirty-six after Claudius disembarked in Kent, Rome’s eyes turned toward the far north at last.

  Though we use it for convenience, the name Scotland is strictly speaking incorrect until the Scots’ arrival from Ireland in the post-Roman period. Pre-Roman Scotland (if we may so call it) was more populous than is often thought. There were some thousands of hillforts of less than one acre. In what are now known as Northumberland and southern Scotland almost every hill was utilized, the densest clusters being on the upper Tweed (near Peebles) and upper Teviot (near Hawick). Defended settlements in valley situations were also numerous: farms or small villages of round, timber-and-thatch huts, encircled by mound and ditch. In the Border region there were a few larger strongholds resembling those of southern England, such as the already-mentioned Eildon Hill (near Melrose), the Selgovian capital, an oppidum with perhaps 2,000 inhabitants. Even the Highlands were moderately peopled. Here were the small, stone-walled forts known as duns, most frequent in Argyll and on Skye. Further north still were the brochs: round, dry-stone towers as high as forty feet, with a staircase between double walls, especially common in Sutherland, the Western and Northern Isles. All tribes were pastoral with some cultivation. Tillage was more developed and forest clearance more extensive than once supposed. These amounts of settlement and development would have been less surprising to someone living only 150 years ago, for the emptying of the rural north is relatively recent.

  The existence of so many separate communities, plus an obsession with defence, suggests Iron Age Scotland as a particularly peaceless place. It is clear from Roman sources that a Highland-Lowland distinction already existed and, as in later ages, these will doubtless have been at loggerheads. Pliny gives the expression Caledonia Silva (the Caledonian Forest) and Ptolemy places the Caledonian tribe right across the central Highlands, south of the Great Glen; a tract without a single large fort or town. He locates another, the Vacomagi, in north-eastern Scotland. By the 1st century AD these were probably one confederation. Tacitus speaks of a distinct Highland type, ‘whose red hair and long legs betray German origins’.86 Red hair perhaps, but German origins are unlikely. Despite this and other hints of racial differences which today might be seen as evidence of the earlier-than-Celtic origins of the British peoples, Tacitus concludes that the generality of Britons came from Gaul, a view disputed by modern archaeology:

  You will find there Gallic customs and beliefs. Nor is the language dissimilar. Temperamentally there is the same rashness: dashing into danger and, when it is met, dashing out of it with equal eagerness. Even so the Britons are more mettlesome than the Gauls, having been under Roman occupation for a shorter time. Those already conquered are moving toward what the Gauls are now; and those unconquered remain as the Gauls once were.87

  As ever the weakness was tribalism. Tacitus’ comment that ‘the ambitions of petty princes divide them’,88 was evidently truer of Britain than of Gaul. Indeed quisling chieftains, like Cogidubnus of today’s West Sussex had proved a valuable tool of conquest, ‘using the time-honoured means of Roman diplomacy, by which kings are persuaded to serve as servitude’s instruments’.89 The following sardonic passage on the sedation of the northern peoples – by following a brutal conquest with the introduction of Mediterranean pleasures – is equally a compliment to Rome on her handling of the newly conquered:

  In order that a rude and scattered people might be coaxed toward peaceful paths through comfort, he [Agricola] encouraged the building of temples, markets and houses. The sons of chieftains were educated in the liberal arts; and those who not long before spurned Roman speech began to aspire to rhetoric and adopt the toga. So by slow degrees the Britons were seduced by pleasant pastimes, like strolling through colonnades, relaxing in the baths and attending polished entertainments, till finally the gullible natives came to call their slavery ‘culture’!90

  Returning to Scotland, and to geography, Tacitus describes the sudden widening of Britain upon ‘crossing’ into Caledonia (i.e. after leaving Central Scotland) when it becomes ‘a vast and irregular shape’; adding, in a flash of knowledge about the north-west Highlands, ‘Nowhere has the sea more mastery, more conflicting motions. Nowhere is land and water more intermingled; the sea among mountains, making them its own.’91 He also gives a fair summary of Britain’s climate:

  The sky is cloaked in cloud, the rain incessant, though the cold not unduly severe. The length of day is difficult for us to grasp. The nights are clear and – in the extremity of Britain – brief, so that a short interval separates dusk and dawn. They even say that if no clouds obscure the sun it shines all night, tracking across the sky without either setting or rising. The soil (save for olives, wine and other warm-climate fruits) permits crops and favours cattle. Seeds sprout quickly in the damp earth but ripen slowly in the damp air.92

  As described, Agricola spent his first campaigning season, probably that of AD 78, in Wales. In 79 he consolidated Cerialis’ conquest of northern England. However, Vespasian’s death, in the late June of that year, put a spoke in Agricola’s wheel. All campaigning ceased. War was an imperial prerogative and each new emperor must confirm or veto its continuation. Though this meant delays, worse lay ahead. From a Vespasian unable to accept that the British venture should fail, power would pass to a Domitian unable to stomach its success. Nevertheless, Vespasian’s policies were for the moment safe in the hands of his elder son; and during the winter of 79–80 one may assume that Titus sent Agricola orders to proceed. The crucial phase of the British plan now began to unfold.

  In the spring of 80 Agricola advanced into new territory. His eastern column pioneered the inland route (now the A66), choosing Cheviot rather than coast, since the latter was longer, with forest barring the lower Tweed, while the almost harbourless Northumbrian shore offered little likelihood of naval support. Southern Scotland was ‘networked’, but compared with Wales resistance proved slight. This remarkable season ended with Agricola’s vanguard at the Tay.

  A question now arose regarding the Forth-Clyde isthmus. Here Agricola had found the wasp’s waist, a defensible line of only thirty-five miles, seven times shorter than the Fosse Way. Doubtless his despatches pointed to the advantages of utilizing this line as a frontier and contrasted it with the severity of the Highland alternative. Titus may have accepted such a view. At any rate the northward advance appears to have ceased and the 81 and 82 seasons were spent consolidating southern Scotland.

  Even so, this seems an unduly long pause, best explained by Titus’ death on 1 September 81. Again Agricola was obliged to await new orders. His campaign had encountered the double-postponement of two emperors’ deaths in two years. All chance of surprising the Caledonians had been lost. To make matters worse, Domitian had decided to lead his own expedition across the Rhine. For this he would require detachments from all four of Agricola’s legions. The year 82 was therefore one of dismal delay and manpower reallocation in which, as the army of Britain was pared down, the chances of taking and holding northern Scotland dwindled.

  Meanwhile Agricola was pondering the possibility of invading Ireland. We glimpse him standing with his staff at the Rhinns of Galloway and looking across to the last outpost of free ‘Celtica’, only twenty-five miles distant: ‘Often I heard him say how Ireland could be taken and held with only one legion and auxiliaries; and that this would help regarding Britain too, for with Roman arms appearing everywhere, liberty would seem to be nowhere.’93

  The foremost source of ambiguity remained central Scotland. Should he fortify the isthmus as
a frontier or not? Here Tacitus is unusually specific on geography but vague on policy, evidently reflecting the indecision of that year:

  The fourth summer was spent securing what had been so swiftly gained. He could in fact have found a stop-line within Britain itself, had the army been less keen and Roman pride less easily satisfied. For here Clyde and Forth, driven inland by the tides of opposing seas, are sundered only by a neck of land. This was now secured with garrisons and the whole tract taken in hand, the enemy being pushed back into what is in effect another island.94

  The strategic view from central Scotland was quite different from that further south. In the first place, discovery of the Forth-Clyde isthmus had shown how easy it would be to seal off the Highlands. Secondly, proximity to the Highlands made it clear how difficult their invasion would be. Finally, revelation of the Irish Sea’s narrowness made a move in that direction more attractive than before. We may guess that, in view of his loss of manpower to the German expedition, Agricola favoured the last of these choices. Being less mountainous, Ireland would require a smaller force, leaving a reserve to man central Scotland. It is presumably with reference to an Irish invasion that Tacitus tells us he occupied the coast of south-west Scotland ‘hopefully rather than defensively’.95 He had a substantial fleet and was ready to use it. Of the two courses an invasion across ocean would have been the more prestigious and in later life he spoke wistfully that it was not chosen. By contrast, the army, always shirking the sea, preferred to march north. ‘Penetrandam Caledoniam’,96 they are heard shouting (‘let’s get stuck into Caledonia’).

  The dilemma was resolved by a directive from Rome: Agricola was granted a second term as governor and ordered to proceed with the conquest of all Scotland. This is consistent with Domitian’s malice. Agricola was being manoeuvred into the most difficult of the options with a much reduced force. Meanwhile the emperor would lead an army into Germany with more achievable objectives and shorter supply lines.

 

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