Sulla too was an army man, receiving power from its hands on his return from the Levant in 8z. His victory, followed by appalling repression, led to a dictatorship. Was this an eastern-type despotism? Not really, since Sulla abdicated in 79 and the conflict resumed, first between Pompey and Caesar, then between Antony and Octavian. No monarchy had been created by Julius Caesar, who was murdered inthe Ides of March conspiracy in 44. But one was set up after the particularly dramatic conflict between Antony and Octavian.
This latter conflict had indeed brought to the surface the latent antagonism between east and west, as if everything was starting again from scratch, or as if the Levant was becoming capable by some miracle of regaining its former prosperity. Was this reality or illusion? Octavian, the future emperor Augustus, embodied the unitary vision of Julius Caesar, the desire to unite an almost consolidated west to an east as yet incomplete and unconsolidated, reaching beyond the Euphrates, which he deemed a frontier too close for comfort. Antony and Cleopatra, driven by circumstances, also dreamed of an east unified for their advantage. Might this dream, which foundered abruptly at Actium in 33, have led to the creating of a Byzantine Empire centuries ahead of its time? Some historians think so (and so did Pascal). But this may be taking too literally propaganda put about by Augustus, since the ‘Egyptian’ episode was a convenient component in his plans to establish and enforce a strong central power on a new formula. After all if Antony had won, he too would have created a Roman Empire.
Augustus’s achievement was that in taking over the legacy of Caesar, he adapted it and concealed its most glaring ambitions. Caesar’s prudent successor, the first Roman emperor, was considered a saviour by the entire Mediterranean, masters and slaves alike (not just by Virgil and the friends of Maecenas). The gifts he brought with him were above all peace (ubique pax was his motto), respect for individuals, and a social order – and these things mattered greatly after so many years of tumult, especially the last few, when tensions had reached an all-time peak.
II Rome beyond the Mediterranean
In the end, Roman imperialism simply ran out of steam. The key period, from this point of view, was the reign of the emperor Hadrian (ad 117-138). By this time, the outline of the Empire represented an immense ellipse around the Mediterranean, stretching far beyond it in some directions, running closer to its shores in others, but with the sea providing the basic shape: essentially the Roman Empire was the land surrounding the Mare nostrum.
To the south and east, the Empire was protected by desert wastes, the Sahara and the Syrian desert. Danger lurked only beyond the empty spaces of Syria, with the arrival of the Parthians, first the Arsacids then the Sassanids, who revived Iran, that never-entirely-vanquished heart of the Persian Empire. But the Parthians long remained a distant hornets’ nest – troublesome only if disturbed on their home ground. And this ‘anti-Empire’ did not interfere with the routes bringing silk, drugs and spices to Rome, since the Romans had access to the Red Sea and thereby to merchandise from the monsoon coast of the Indian Ocean. It was in the north, on the European frontier, that Rome felt most threatened. The Empire included Italy, Spain and the Balkans, but in order to secure the frontiers of these ‘continents’, especially the last, it was drawn into controlling the waters bounding them – the Black Sea (Pontus Euxinus), the Danube and the Rhine – and therefore to venture into uncharted lands, sometimes almost uninhabited, where everything was different: population, climate, crops, vegetation, rivers and seas.
Was this constant outward expansion really necessary? When the Empire finally gave up the struggle, was it out of resignation or because it had tailored its desires to what could be accomplished with the means to hand? This enormous human entity – enormous for the time that is (50 million souls at least) – spread over an area which was also enormous. In an age when distance was a formidable obstacle, it could not count on being protected by the rather flimsy envelope of the Empire’s frontiers within which it was more or less enclosed. The further the distance from the Mediterranean, the less protected one was, as the supply lines were stretched to their utmost, across desert or ocean wastes, or the almost empty expanses of primitive countries like Germania. The maintenance of the frontier posts alone was a masterpiece of organization in the face of harassment, and had constantly to be undertaken. Fifty million souls, working, tilling the soil, forging metals and weaving cloth, seafaring and leading their pack-animals, offered an endless challenge to the soldier. Would the protection of the frontiers have been possible at all without the enrolment of barbarian auxiliaries, the Palmyrian archers or the fair-haired foot-soldiers from Germania?
The Cimbri and the Teutons
Before the Empire had even come into being, the problem had arisen years before, with the scare caused by the Cimbri and Teutons: the most damaging threat to the Mediterranean complex before the Germanic invasions of the fifth century.
In about 120 BC, a human tide (made up of Cimbri in the north and Teutons in the south) had started to flow out of the Jutland peninsula: in its steady advance, this tide of men, women and children encountered the living obstacle of other peoples, whom it attacked or raided as it went, bringing some of them south with it. Within ten years, in its quest for land, this flood had reached the banks of the Danube, south of present-day Moravia. Moving along the Alps and harassing the Romans, it appeared in the Jura mountains in 109. Four years later, it was in the Toulouse area. The Cimbri then pressed on into Spain, before returning and once more joining up with the Teutons in what is now Belgium. Combining forces, they then headed for Italy. The Teutons, having won a battle at Orange, eventually selected Provence for themselves, while the Cimbri turned towards Helvetia and the Brenner Pass. Their joint goal was the northern part of the Italian peninsula, a region still fragile a century after Hannibal’s invasion. As for Provence, the Provincia, which had been a Roman possession only since 1 zo, it was at this time a mere strip of territory along the seaboard.
Marius, whom Rome had equipped only with inexperienced legions, arrived at Aquae Sextiae (Aix-en-Provence) to encounter the Teutons. They took no notice of him and kept heading eastwards en route for the promised land. For six days, they marched past the Roman camp, jeering and promising ‘to call on the soldiers’ wives in Rome, insolently asking whether they had any messages for them’. But Marius caught up with the horde and massacred men, women and children, taking a rumoured 300,000 prisoners. This figure, though probably inflated, nevertheless gives some idea of the size of the invasion. The following year, on 3 July 101, at Vercelli, Marius met the Cimbri who had crossed over via the Brenner and then moved west across northern Italy, instead of marching on Rome. Another victory for his army flooded the Roman market with slaves.
The episode left nightmare memories, however, not only for Gaul, but for Italy, which had seen the barbarians at the gate. The ‘Cimbrian terror’, a horrific legend, was to survive even longer than Rome itself.
Caesar’s conquest of Gaul
Compared to the Germanic world, seething with upheavals and disturbances, Gaul looked like a rich prize or prey. Comparatively rich and populous (with perhaps iz to 15 million inhabitants), endowed with a fertile countryside, thick forests, many towns, and flourishing industries (wool, leather and metal-working), Gaul was divided among rival peoples, great territorial tribes. Hence its political weakness, which was to have dramatic consequences.
Rome feared that in this state Gaul might be an attractive destination for the overspill population of Germania and since it was ill prepared to resist, would channel it south to the Mediterranean, as in the days of the Celtic invasions. Indeed Celts and Germans were much the same thing in the eyes of the Romans, with the latter possibly appearing even more savage than the former. The security of Italy, in short, required that the lid be kept on Gaul, and the question must have arisen very soon of occupying Gallia comata, ‘long-haired Gaul’, (as opposed to Gallia togata, ‘toga-clad Gaul’, the Provincia and future Narbonnaise). What was more,
the merchants of Italy, the negotiators, were interested in the Gallic market, where their goods were increasingly finding buyers. ‘Amphorae of Italian wine are found in about 100 BC as far north as Chateaumaillant’ in the present-day departement of the Cher, and even further afield. Military ambitions for a glorious conquest did the rest.
In April 59 BC, the Roman Senate, caught up in the intrigues of the triumvirs (Pompey, Caesar and Crassus), conferred on Caesar an exceptional command, in Illyria and Cisalpine Gaul; later adding to it Transalpine Gaul. Was there an ulterior motive here? In appointing him to strengthen the security of the Alps, a formidable barrier, but full of potential entry-points and under threat from northern tribes, did the patres conscripti hope that Gallia comata would prove to be a dangerous, even mortal trap for an ambitious general like Caesar? If they did, they certainly miscalculated. Caesar’s pretext for action wasprovided by the migration of the Helvetii westwards in the spring of 58. Weary of being harassed by the Germans, they sought refuge in Gaul. ‘Turning aside from guarding the Alps, Caesar marched on the Rhone, and Gaul thereby became a battlefield.’ In fact, Caesar also had to play politics between the rival powers and mutual fears of the Gallic tribes; he had to deceive the Helvetii the better to surprise them, and seize this excuse for moving north. In the event, everything worked out as planned, one deliberate action leading to the next, and all calculated in advance. Caesar drove back the Helvetii at Bibracte, and in the same year he expelled Ariovistus’s Suevi from Alsace. He was thus able to establish himself in Gaul under the guise of protecting it.1
Was the entire episode driven by Caius Julius Caesar’s personal ambition? Undoubtedly he saw in this adventure an opportunity for personal glory, political power, and a means of restoring his family wealth, latterly eaten into by ‘insane demagogic expense’. The fact that he was remarkably intelligent and clear-sighted only makes matters worse. But it is also true that Gaul was a self-designated prey, thanks to its political weakness and lack of organization. If Gaul was not to be Roman, it might well have become Germanic, with the threat of invading hordes, first the Helvetii, then the Suevi – and who knew what might follow? The return to the nightmare scenario of the Cimbri and Teutons would almost certainly have stung Rome into action. So there might have been another conquest in any case. In short, Caesar himself was dependent on a predestined set of circumstances, going far beyond his personal history. Gaul was conquered so that it would provide an effective and permanent barrier between Rome and the Germanic threat.
A map of Caesar’s campaigns spells out only too clearly what took place during these dark years, punctuated by sieges and long periods of waiting, over an immense geographical area where even the rapidly marching legions could not overcome distance. We cannot here follow it in the detail to be found in the victorious bulletins Caesar sent to Rome, the city he could not forget, where his ‘alter ego’ Publius Clodius was still active.
His conquest of Gaul between 58 and 54 was a series of easy victories, methodically executed. A bloody furrow opened up in the flesh and landscape of the Gauls. In 58, the Helvetii were crushed at Bibracte, and the Suevi at Mulhouse. In 57, the legions struck at the Belgic tribes, pushing on towards the Scheldt and Meuse. In 56, after crossing the scrubland of Armorica, the Roman army beat the Veneti, triumphing over their solidly built ships. In the same year, Aquitaine was seized, west of the Provincia. The ring-fence cutting off Gaul from any contact with either Britain or the lands across the Rhine was traced in the form of an open wound which would not heal. To keep it active, Caesar needed only to cross the Channel twice, in 55 and 54, and the Rhine twice, in 55 and 53.
It has been argued that these expeditions were unnecessary. In fact Caesar was less concerned with victory in Germania or Britain than with the situation in Gaul, which he intended to tame and accustom to Roman rule. But in 54, 53 and 52 and 51, being confined from outside, Gaul exploded from within. The rebellion started in the Massif Central, which the conquerors had bypassed without entering it. Vercingetorix led this heroic resistance, beating the Amiens legion back to Sens, and inflicting defeat on the Romans at Gergovia. Then the tide turned and the Gallic force besieged in Alesia capitulated at the end of September 52. They had watched horrorstruck as the Roman army encircled them as if by magic with its war machines, earthworks, palisades, circumvallations, and lines of stakes in the earth. It was a textbook demonstration, using quite simple methods, of the Romans’ technical superiority, the fruit of iron discipline.
In conclusion, then, if the greatest event in Roman history was undoubtedly the conquest of the Mediterranean, the second was the conquest of Gaul, the bringing to heel of a huge living entity. Gaul contained perhaps three times the population of the whole of Italy, and Rome would frequently depend on this mass of men who entered its service.
The dramatic story of Germanicus
But could Gaul protect itself sufficiently to assuage Rome’s anxieties? Caesar may have thought so, being lulled into complacency by his two easy sorties across the Rhine. Both times he found himself in an empty landscape, deliberately abandoned by its inhabitants. He failed to recognize the ‘extraordinary fecundity’ of Germania.
This error inspired a plan devised by Augustus at the end of his life: to move the Empire’s frontiers up to the Elbe and Moldau rivers, stopping at the division between east and west Germans, on a line which the natural frontier of the Danube would extend to the Black Sea. The middle and lower Danube frontiers were the first to be fortified. Then in iz BC, Augustus’ stepson, Drusus, undertook by both land and sea the conquest of western Germania, from the Rhine to the Elbe. The conquest was completed in 7 BC by his brother Tiberius. But sixteen years later, in ad 9, the Cherusci rose up and Varus’ legions were destroyed in the Teutoburger Wald by Arminius.
This unprecedented disaster had far-reaching repercussions, out of proportion perhaps to the event, during which everything was against the legionaries: betrayal by allied troops, torrential rain, cumbersome baggage trains, and marshy ground where the soldiers had to fight knee-deep in mud. And indeed Germanicus Caesar, son of Drusus, adoptive son of Tiberius, and successor to Augustus, rapidly turned the situation around, restoring the prestige of Rome and burying the remains of Varus’ companions, with full honours. Notwithstanding which, Tiberius called back the adventurous prince, ‘warning him in incessant letters’, Tacitus reports, ‘to come back and celebrate the triumph as arranged; there had been enough successes and adventures’. Tiberius then imposed his ‘short-sighted policy’. Roman forces were evacuated from Germania, and Germanicus, after duly getting his triumph, was sent in despair to the eastern Empire where he died prematurely, possibly at the hands of an assassin.
So the limit of the Empire was more or less fixed along the 2000 kilometres of the Rhine and Danube. When subsequently it was massively reinforced in the important buffer zone of the Agri Decumates (Ten Cantons), Rome was implicitly recognizing, indeed virtually creating, a long-term enemy. The Empire had encircled Germania.
Trajan, the Dacians and the Euphrates
After the rational prudence of Augustus, and the suspicious and edgy prudence of Tiberius, Trajan was to display much audacity, inexperience, enthusiasm and desire for fame in embarking upon the super-human task of conquest in which he was to find both death and glory. When he succeeded Nerva in ad 98, Trajan already had a long military career behind him. Born in Italica in Spain in 52, he was the first provincial to be raised to the imperial throne. He would indeed give the Empire a new lustre, a second youth.
When Trajan consolidated the Rhine frontier, creating towns (Xanten and Nijmegen), and building roads through the sensitive zone of the Agri Decumates, he was merely taking essential routine precautions, since the frontier had constantly to be maintained, like the hull of a ship. But his intervention against the Dacians and their king Decebalus in 101-7 was a new development. The annexation of Dacia (present-day Transylvania, Wallachia and Moldavia) and its transformation into an imperial provinc
e provided an advance bastion for the Danube. Rome would set up thriving colonies here, recruited mainly in the east, but Latin was the lingua franca of this new world, which would prove a durable creation. A further advantage was the existence in Dacia of mines of precious metal, and ‘Dacian gold’ financed some of the great public works of the reign, the most famous of which was Trajan’s forum with the celebrated column.
But the most significant campaigns were those of 114 and 117 against the Parthians. The bend in the Euphrates, Mesopotamia and beyond it Iran, were weak points in the Roman armour. The disaster which had befallen Crassus at Carrhae in 53, and Antony’s defeat (‘a retreat from Moscow’ as Guglielmo Ferrero called it) were sinister precedents. Yet the Parthian Empire, divided against itself and troubled by bitter disputes on its frontiers, was not at first sight an over-formidable enemy.
In 114, Trajan landed at Antioch and marched into Armenia. From this stronghold, he sent his legions in 115 to Mesopotamia, seizing most of it. The following year, he took Ctesiphon on the Tigris and Seleucia on the Euphrates, then reached the Persian Gulf to the south. The Parthian king Chosroes had fled, so Trajan thought that by selecting a successor he had won the war. But hardly had he left when revolt flared up almost everywhere. Only the Greek population, small in number, had welcomed the invader, the Iranians were indifferent, and the Jews and Arabs were violently opposed to Rome. Chosroes reappeared near Ctesiphon. Discouraged, Trajan turned for home. In August 117, he died at Selinus in Cilicia.
The expedition had ended in failure. Rome had encountered not so much obstacles posed by nature or destiny, as the limits of its own intelligence, or experience. In the attempt to conquer Asia, the Romans did not make use of the weapon which had taken Alexander to the banks of the Indus, namely cavalry. It was on horseback too that Antiochus III had launched his anabasis from 2.12 to 202 BC, succeeding in turn in reaching the Indus. Trajan thought he could simply surprise Mesopotamia by going via the mountains of Armenia – the kind of ruse a Spanish or Samnite peasant might imagine.
The Mediterranean in the Ancient World Page 41