The commercial influence of Rome should not be underestimated, nor should it be thought of as a case of Roman merchants pushing their goods on to an unsuspecting and naive market. Traders were reacting to a demand for their wares. A useful analogy is the way that companies like Levi-Strauss and Coca-Cola, whose products were deemed to confer social status, were pulled into eastern Europe as the communist economies fell in the 1990s. Linguistic evidence can give some idea of how important this was. The Old High German word for ‘trader’ (‘choufo’ or ‘koufa’), indeed the modern German verb ‘kaufen’ meaning ‘to buy’, derive from the Latin for ‘wine merchant’ (‘caupo’). Both wine and wine-drinking sets were hugely popular and have been found as far afield as northern Poland and Denmark. It was not just a case of high-value items being traded though. More than 1,600 Roman bronze vessels dating to the first or second centuries AD have been recorded in northern Europe from burials and other sites. It goes without saying that business must have been profitable for the merchants. The gravestone of Quintus Atilius Primus, which dates to the first century, tells us that he began his career as a translator and, in all likelihood, commercial attaché on the Danube frontier. After he had completed his military service with the rank of centurion, he capitalised on his linguistic skills and became a merchant.12
It would be a misapprehension to think of this trade as confined to the river regions. Roman traders did not just sell to intermediaries who then acted as distributors for them. There is evidence of both long-distance and direct trade that went far beyond the immediate Rhine frontier. Pliny the Elder records a story of Julianus, the manager of the gladiatorial exhibitions for the Emperor Nero, who travelled north to trading markets around the Baltic Sea and acquired a vast amount of amber, including one lump that weighed 5.9kg.13 It is inconceivable that Julianus’ trip was unique. The discovery of large numbers of Roman coins close to the Sambian Peninsula in the oblast of Kaliningrad suggests that it was a trading centre. It requires little interpretation to guess that up until now the amber trade had been a German monopoly and that Nero’s agent was reconnoitring the area to see if he could cut out the middle men.
Despite the fact that virtually every commander who had crossed the Rhine had been granted a military triumph in Rome, when Agrippa returned for his second stint as governor of Gaul in 19 BC, he found the region unchanged, in virtually the same state as it had been twenty years previously. The Rhine remained porous and both people and arms flowed back and forth as they always had.
The fundamental weakness of Roman policy at the time was that until the Lollian disaster, Rome’s position towards Germany was reactive. Roman commanders mounted punitive sorties across the Rhine as and when they were needed. With Gaul the number one priority, the Germanic tribes understood that there was never any permanent intention behind these police actions. As there was no chance that the Romans might remain on their side of the Rhine, they could carry on their raids with impunity.
The end of the war in the mountainous and least accessible parts of north-western Spain allowed Augustus to turn his attention more fully to Germany and to implement a much more active policy. No doubt this was given a fillip as the emperor himself was on hand in the west and in Gaul by 16 BC. There was now a swift and deliberate mobilisation of the Rhine frontier. The Lollian affair had proved that it was no longer enough to contain the Germanic tribes across the Rhine; a more dramatic gesture was required. In anticipation of this, several legions had been transferred from Spain in around 19 BC. Legion V ‘The Larks’ and Legion I Germanica were moved to the Rhine to provide additional manpower to the three legions already in place, presumably Legions XVII, XVIII and XIX.
When Augustus appeared in person, Roman military construction was already under way. By the end of his reign, six major military camps had been established along the lower and middle Rhine; at Vechten (Fectio), Xanten (Vetera), Mainz (Mogontiacum), Neuss (Novaesium), Nijmegen (Noviomagus) and Cologne (Oppidum Ubiorum). It is impossible to date their foundations with any precision, but work is likely to have begun in 18/17 BC, with pressure increasing to finish after the Lollius event. The first three were the earliest, the lynchpins of Rome’s ground assault into Germany proper, bolstered by smaller support camps at Bonn and Boeselagerhof. They leave no doubt that invasion was the Roman intention from the outset. All three stand at the heads of the main invasion routes into the heart of Germany, while Vechten also doubled as a naval base, being perfectly positioned to launch amphibious operations along the North Sea coast.
These Roman forts were the physical expression of Rome’s dominance. Deliberately intimidating, they provided both accommodation and defence for the soldiers within. Camps all broadly conformed to the same design, regardless of whether they were temporary or permanent, or built in Syria or Scotland: playing-card shaped, rectangular with rounded ends and gates on each side. This remained the structural design from the first to the fourth centuries.
Few descriptions of forts have survived. The Roman writer Arrian, friend of the Emperor Hadrian and best known for his biography of Alexander the Great, describes his first impression of a smaller frontier fort that was beginning to put down more permanent roots: ‘The fort itself . . . occupies a position which appeared to me at once very strong by nature and admirably calculated to secure the safety of those approaching the town by sea. Two ditches run round the rampart, both of them broad. The rampart used to be made of earth and the towers planted on it were of wood. Now both rampart and towers are made of brick. The former rests on a substantial foundation and has artillery mounted upon it. In a word, the preparations for defence are so complete that there is little likelihood of any of the natives coming to close quarters or of the garrison ever being called to stand a siege.’14
This is a description of Phasis, the Roman Empire’s most eastern city on the Black Sea, now under Lake Paliostomi, on the central coast of the Republic of Georgia, and dates from the mid-second century. To all intents and purposes, however, it mirrors what we see in Germany. The differences that there would have been – ramparts of wood rather than of brick – have much to do with the ease of brick manufacture in a warm climate rather than damp, forested Germany. The consternation and fear that a fort’s construction caused among the barbarians can only be imagined.
It is apparent from any aerial photograph or plan that camps followed a uniform pattern internally too. The commander’s quarters, barracks, stables, stores and so on were all erected around two main roads that ended at the camp’s headquarters, a building that could be solidly permanent, like the wonderfully preserved one at Lambaesis in North Africa, or simply a large tent when the army was on campaign. ‘Conveniently, the camp is divided into streets and the commanders’ tents are placed in the middle. If we think of the camp like a city that has sprung up overnight, much like a temple, the general’s own tent is right in the centre, and the camp has its market, a place for manual workers and with seats for both high- and low-ranking officers, where, if any differences arise, their causes are heard and determined’, is the Jewish historian Josephus’ description of a camp in Judea.15 The via principalis, the main road, ran from the fort’s two long sides. Halfway through the camp, in front of the HQ, it met the via praetoria, the commander’s road, at right angles. Marching camps were always oriented so that the via praetoria then ran out of the main gate towards the enemy.
When he returned to Rome from the west in 13 BC, Augustus handed over command of the mobilisation and invasion to his 25-year-old stepson Drusus. This was a sign of favour that went well beyond nepotism – the emperor clearly regarded him as one of the empire’s most talented generals. Though Drusus would not have been aware of it, it was a fateful moment. For the next few generations, this branch of the imperial family would make Germany its own. His brother, his son and those who were connected to him by marriage, like Varus, would, for better or worse, make their names and reputations here. As Augustus returned to Rome, Drusus began to organise the Roman inva
sion of Germany. It was the first of what would eventually be four campaigns.
Although young, Drusus Claudius Nero was one of the most decorated and popular commanders of the Roman army.16 His temperament was easy-going; his support came from the emperor and his politics were solidly republican. ‘A young man with as much character as human nature is capable of receiving or hard work can develop’, was his reputation with the army. Born in mid-April 38 BC, there were mutterings about Drusus’ parentage. His father had been persuaded to divorce his pregnant wife Livia so that Augustus could marry her that January – and Drusus himself was born three months after the marriage. Whether he was Augustus’ bastard or not no one knows, but Drusus and his brother, the future emperor Tiberius, were brought up in Augustus’ house as his stepsons.
Imperial association allowed Drusus to fast-track many of the usual stages of Roman public service. In 17 BC he and his brother were sent against the Alpine tribes who had made forays into northern Italy and Gaul, events celebrated on the Alpine Memorial, the Tropaeum Alpium. Still standing, it was set up on the orders of the Senate at La Turbie, the old Roman boundary between Italy and Gaul, on the Grande Corniche road to Monaco, and finished at the end of June 6 BC. Although details of the campaign are hazy (in all probability Drusus moved over the Brenner Pass then up the Inn valley to upper Swabia, while Tiberius advanced east along the Rhine valley to Lake Constance before rendezvousing with his brother), Drusus and Tiberius not only pushed the tribes back across the mountains, they added the country to the empire. It was a military operation that captured the popular imagination and was to inspire Horace to heights of Kipling-esque poetry:
What will not Claudian hands achieve?
Jove’s favour is their guiding star,
And watchful potencies unweave
For them the tangled paths of war.17
Drusus had arrived in Gaul in 13 BC with his wife Antonia the Younger and their 2-year-old son Germanicus. Antonia was as much of a popular idol as her husband. Two years younger than her spouse (she had been born in Rome at the end of January 36 BC), she was the younger daughter of Mark Antony and Augustus’ sister Octavia. Famous, so wrote the historian Plutarch, for her ‘beauty and self-control’,18 she had married Drusus when she was 17, early in 18 BC. There is a remarkable homogeneity in the representations of her that survive which allow speculation that they are a fair reflection; a triangular face that softens in statues of her as an older woman, with a strong nose, the hint of a double chin and a distinct hairstyle – wavy hair with a centre parting, pulled back behind the ears. By modern standards they are strong rather than conventionally pretty features.
Antonia’s importance had nothing to do with her looks. Like her mother-in-law, the Empress Livia, she was one of several women of this era who had the paradoxical position of considerable power with political influence that was recognised and honoured, yet with no constitutional status. Never to remarry after Drusus’ death, she was to become the grande dame of Roman politics, a Lady Bracknell who, to all intents and purposes, ran Rome’s eastern foreign policy from her salon throughout Tiberius’ reign. She came from a line of matriarchs. While pregnant, her mother had brokered the – admittedly short-lived – peace deal between Antony and Augustus in the late spring of 37 BC. The family tradition of political meddling was to continue. It should be remembered that she was married to the heir to the throne; her first son, Germanicus was also to be heir; her second surviving son Claudius did achieve the throne; her grandson Caligula was also emperor; as was her great-grandson Nero. But this is to get ahead of the story.
The campaigning season of 12 BC was presented to the world as a glittering success. That first year, Drusus’ attention was focused on planning and exploration. Headquartered probably at the large military base at Nijmegen, his marines reconnoitred along the North Sea coast early in the year. Certainly Augustus claimed it as a success. He himself boasted that his navy had ‘sailed through the ocean from the mouth of the Rhine eastwards . . . where previously no Roman had gone by land or sea’. Pliny the Elder provides more detail, writing that his fleet had sailed round the Jutland peninsula, ‘from where they either discovered or heard about it from reports, an immense sea which extends to the country of the Scythians and regions that are chilled by excessive moisture’.19
He also undertook the construction of a 24km canal that bore his name – The Drusus Ditch – which connected the Rhine with the Ijssel and is probably identical to the Upper Ijssel. This canal, together with its brother which connected Zuider Zee with the Wadden Sea, was much more important than it at first appears. From a strategic point of view it was crucial as it simplified access into Germany. Suddenly the River Ems, the Weser and the Elbe became accessible to Roman forces. A commander with access to this route could not only have the element of surpise on his side when he wanted to attack tribes far beyond the Rhine (not possible if an invasion was preceded by a visible and ungainly Rhine crossing), but the issue of logistics suddenly became considerably easier when supplies did not all have to be carried on the legionaries’ backs. A protected channel that avoided the open sea was also of psychological importance to the army. The Romans were never comfortable sailors and the North Sea especially made them nervous. So much so, in fact, that the Emperor Claudius’ invasion of Britain across the English Channel, two generations later, was almost halted by mutiny. The troops shouted down their commanders before they were to board ships, terrified at the thought of having to cross the sea.20
In the second year it is likely that Drusus based himself at Vetera. The visitor to the modern town of Xanten which now occupies the site, is most likely to see the reconstructed second-century town of Colonia Ulpia Traiana, one of the best-restored Roman sites in Germany. It was one of only two towns in Lower Germany allowed to call itself a colonia – a high civic honour and a reflection of its importance as a trading centre. Nothing like this was to be seen when Drusus founded the first military camp at the junction of the rivers Rhine and Lippe. It was a solid fort, capable of holding two legions, to the south-east of where the later Roman city grew up, high on the Fürstenberg. Little, however, has survived for archaeologists to work on. The site was much plundered, even in ancient times, a situation made worse when several dozen boxes of finds vanished in the course of the Second World War. The discovery of a collection of 2,400 arrows in the principia, however, is a pointed physical reminder not just of the Roman defensive imperatives, but also their intentions.
From here, Drusus crossed the River Lippe and erected a series of camps along its banks as far as the River Weser, though he did not cross it. Following the discovery of a supply fort at Beckinghausen, which was also a manufacturing and distribution centre for pottery, it is clear that the main camps were intended as stepping stones for a putative invasion along the Lippe. They stand 20km apart and each had the capacity to take two legions. Drusus’ choice of the River Lippe was ideal and by far the easiest invasion route into the heart of Germany. Much smaller and slower flowing than the River Main, for example, it was a comparatively painless waterway for the Romans to negotiate.
Cassius Dio’s account of the year reveals how hard the campaign was: ‘Drusus set out again for the war. At the beginning of spring he crossed the River Rhine and subjugated the Usipetes. He bridged the River Lippe, invaded the territory of the Sugambri and advanced through it into Cherusci territory as far as the River Weser. He was able to do this because the Sugambri, angry with the Chatti, the only tribe among their neighbours that had refused to join their alliance, had campaigned against them with all their population. Seizing this opportunity, he passed through their land unnoticed. Drusus would have crossed the River Weser too, had he not run short of provisions and had not the winter set in.’
So far so good. The tribes who had humiliated Marcus Lollius were now themselves beaten. But the march back to winter camp was much less straightforward. In an overture to Varus’ military finale, Drusus was tricked into an ambush. Cassius Di
o continues: ‘The enemy ambushed him frequently and once trapped him in a narrow pass and all but destroyed his army. The Germans would have wiped them out had they not underestimated the Romans, as if they were already captured and needed only the coup de grâce.’21 Drusus may have rallied his troops and beaten off the overconfident Germans, but his forces were harried all the way back to winter camp.
It is generally accepted that Drusus’ main base, indeed the Roman’s first semi-permanent camp on the wrong side of the Rhine, was now Oberaden on the River Lippe. Although the site was identified as a Roman camp as long ago as 1873, only recently has dendrochronology helped date the timber rampart more precisely to trees cut down in the autumn of 11 BC. It was a large site of 56 hectares, had a perimeter of 2.7km, and could quite comfortably accommodate two legions and auxiliaries, some of the latter in all likelihood from Thrace and Asia Minor. This was a total of some 15,000 men. The camp was perfectly situated. On a hill, 1.5km south of the River Lippe, it dominates its surroundings on all sides. Certainly the camp’s defences go beyond what one might expect. With towers every 25m, they speak of how exposed the Romans must have felt. The north-west of the site was particularly well fortified and strengthened by a barrier of sharp wooden stakes. Although Oberaden only had one ditch – some 3m wide – this is a sign, not of Roman laziness, but more an indication of the difficulty in digging the heavy, red clay.
The theory that Oberaden was used as a base is given additional weight by archaeologists’ discovery of a store containing some forty huge wooden barrels. This suggests that it doubled as a supply centre. The convoys of boats travelling up and down the Lippe from Xanten and beyond, carrying these casks, each capable of holding 1,200 litres, must have been a sight and the finds give a faint sense of the logistic challenge that was feeding the army.22 The camp may have felt remote from civilisation, but in some ways this perception is wrong. It is a credit to Roman logistics that an analysis of the latrines suggests that the soldiers’ diet included Mediterranean vegetables and, most remarkably of all, pepper from India. Physically remote it might have been, but that did not mean that the legionaries stationed here had to forgo all of the luxuries they could expect in Rome.
Rome's Greatest Defeat Page 4