Julius Caesar (15 page)

The day might still have gone badly for the Romans, but the return of Labienus with the indomitable Tenth Legion from the far side of the Sambre, where he had been ransacking the enemy camp, coupled with the arrival of two reserve legions who had hastened up on hearing news of the battle, changed everything. The Tenth Legion stormed back across the river and took the Nervii in the rear, while Caesar’s nephew, in command of the two reserve legions, seeing his uncle and the Twelfth Legion surrounded and almost cut off on the right flank, divided his troops and attacked the Nervii on both sides. The Belgae proved every bit as brave as reputation had it and fought to the bitter end. “As the bodies of their men piled up, so they stood on the mound that they made and shot arrows at our soldiers and hurled back javelins which had missed their mark.” But it was the end for this warrior tribe and, although it is almost impossible to accept Caesar’s account of the numbers that fell—for many must have escaped across the river—the fact remains that their chiefs and elders now sought peace. Caesar readily granted it, “leaving it to them to enjoy their land and their towns and ordering their neighbors to respect their persons.” This was most important in this kind of warfare, for a tribe which had been thoroughly defeated by the Romans was often, in its weakened state, immediately attacked by its neighbors. In other words, Caesar more or less took them under the protection of the Roman state.

Their allies, the Atuatuci, who had arrived late for the battle and then, seeing how things were going, had immediately returned to their own lands, were the next to feel the onslaught of the conqueror. Huge men, like so many of these northerners, it is clear that they despised the shorter, smaller Romans, but science as applied to warfare was to defeat them. When they withdrew inside their principal stronghold (probably the citadel of Namur) they were terrified by the spectacle of the Romans building a gigantic tower which far out-topped their own defenses. After an apparent surrender, during which they threw down many of their arms from the battlements, they attempted a treacherous attack on the Romans by night—an attack that had been foreseen—and paid the penalty for their action. At daybreak the legions burst into the city and, to punish the breach of faith, the whole population was put up for sale, along with their property. According to the account, 53,000 people were sold by auction. This was the kind of profit, the evidence of which would soon be paraded in the slave markets of Rome, that could not be ignored even by Caesar’s enemies.

While this siege had been in progress Caesar had sent off one of the legions under the young son of Crassus, who had already distinguished himself, to deal with the tribes who inhabited the areas now known as Normandy and Britanny. Although these hardy seafaring people might have been expected to put up a fierce resistance, so great had been the impact of Caesar’s successes that Crassus moved with triumphal ease through tribe after tribe who came out to offer their submission. The hegemony of Rome and this conquering Caesar (already equated with a god) was recognized everywhere.

The campaigning year was ending, but before he left for his other responsibility, Illyricum in the east, Caesar laid down the framework by which he hoped to hold all Gaul within the domain of the Roman republic. For each of the two main divisions of the people, the Celtic and the Belgic, was appointed one master-tribe: The Aedui for the Celts and the Remi for the Belgians. Their kings were directly responsible to Caesar, administration (on the surface at least) was left in their own hands, but all major decisions were to be taken at an annual assembly to be held under the presidency of Caesar. Those who were hostile to Rome, secretly hostile and biding their time, or waiting to see which way the dice finally fell, were thus eliminated from any positions of power. It seemed to Caesar as he left that, after two years, all Gaul was conquered and pacified. This time there could be no doubt in Rome about the astonishing successes that had been achieved in this remote part of the earth. The elaborate Celtic gold-work, the massive golden torques and gem-studded shoulder-clasps, the unfamiliar weapons, the swords and daggers with their decorated hilts (for it seemed that these “barbaric” people could not leave any metal surface unadorned), the jewelry incorporating amber, garnets and enamels—all these made a profound impression. But no less did the steady stream of slaves, the motive power of the ancient world, daily remind the Romans of victorious Caesar. The names of unfamiliar towns and tribes, rivers and immense tracts of land hitherto unknown which featured in the carefully promulgated reports of Caesar’s campaigns opened up the vista of a new world to the Roman citizen. Not until, centuries later, Europe discovered America and the Far East would there ever be such a sense of novelty, and of expansion into a realm which seemed to have no limit.

Whatever their private feelings, the senate could not resist the public mood, and Pompey, who may well have felt some jealousy over Caesar’s triumphant success, was the first to propose a public thanksgiving in the conqueror’s honor. To mark the unprecedented nature of Caesar’s achievements, this was to last for fifteen days—five more than had been allotted to Pompey for his triumphs in the East. Moreover, no less a man than Cicero, who had been brought back from exile at Pompey’s instigation, was the seconder of this proposal to do such great honor to Caius Julius Caesar. History can record few greater ironies.

16

Politics and a Revolt

WHEN he returned to Italy Caesar had every reason for feeling that his conquests were permanent and that his arrangements for the administration of the newly conquered territories were more than adequate. Quartered among the Gauls and Belgians were the conquering legions, permanent evidence of the controlling hand of Rome: Labienus with one legion in the area of Angers, two other legions to the east near Tours and Chartres, another to guard the Great St. Bernard pass, and four in the territory of the Belgae. All seemed secure. But winter, which immobilizes, also gives men time to dream, and in the cold north seated around their fires, to remember old days and deeds and plan a new future.

Even if he could not personally visit political Italy (something which was forbidden proconsuls during their term) Caesar was able to keep in constant touch from his own province of Cisalpine Gaul and to know what was happening in the city almost from day to day, and he found plenty to interest him. Clodius, whose tribunate was over in December 58, was still terrorizing the city with his gangs of thugs, dashing Caesar’s hopes that he had found another Catiline, but one subservient to his will. Moreover, the fact that Clodius had displayed such open hostility toward Pompey did not make for any confidence between the two triumvirs, while the third, Crassus, was now almost as envious of Caesar’s military triumphs as he had formerly been of Pompey’s. The three horses of the triumvirate were all straining in different directions, and there were many who were delighted to note

that the alliance between the three most powerful men in Rome seemed to be disintegrating.

Cicero, who firmly believed that he had saved the state during the Catiline affair, still dreamed of the restoration of the old
Optimate
republic, with himself as its leader and mentor. With Caesar’s reluctant consent, and Pompey’s hope that Cicero would apply himself to restoring order in the city, he had come back happily convinced that old triumphs would repeat themselves. Caesar, distanced from Rome by his station in northern Italy, and infinitely wiser politically than either of his colleagues, saw that it was essential—for the moment at least—that the triumvirate should forget any differences and cement their alliance against all the other forces in Rome. While Cicero continued in one bitter speech after another to offend as many as he pleased, and Clodius had become a liability rather than an asset, the strength of the triumvirate must be reestablished. If it was not clear to Pompey and Crassus, it certainly was to Caesar, that their shared power must be exerted for their mutual benefit. The differences between Pompey and Crassus, which Caesar had managed to heal before, once again needed attention and the pride of Crassus soothed by providing him with the opportunity to achieve some equal measure of success in the field. Crassus might be one of the richest men in the world, but he still hankered for the medals and laurel crowns and cheering crowds that only a triumph could provide.

The all-important meeting took place at Luca (Lucca) in Cisalpine Gaul, and it was here that the three men decided on the main policies for Rome during the next few years. Crassus and Pompey were to become consuls in 55, their elections being postponed until the winter so that men on leave from Caesar’s legions could be available to lend support. Once consuls, they were to secure for themselves commands commensurate with that which Caesar now held. (Caesar was well aware that even Pompey was chafing at his current eclipse.) Crassus was to take command in the East and confront the great Parthian empire beyond the Euphrates, the only power in the lands known to Rome that still challenged the might of the legions and the city, while Pompey was to have the rich provinces of Spain, which he might administer through delegates, thus leaving him free to attend to the affairs of Rome. Both men would secure an
imperium
similar to his own, brooking no interference for five years after the date of their consulships. Meanwhile, to avoid the risk of Caesar’s being left as a private citizen, exposed to danger from his enemies, Crassus and Pompey as consuls would secure a further extension of Caesar’s
imperium
over the two Gauls. So, in the quiet town of Luca, the rich cake of the Roman world was divided up in, as Plutarch puts it, “a conspiracy to share the sovereignty and destroy the constitution.” Over that winter Luca knew the comings and goings of many of the most powerful men in Rome, who, although they are unlikely to have known the precise arrangements between the triumvirs, knew enough to smell out the sources of power. Of those who might have protested at the republic’s fate being decided not in Rome but in Caesar’s own province, Cato was far away in Cyprus, while Cicero was muzzled because his brother Quintus, who had been working for Pompey, now transferred to the service of Caesar. His main trouble was that he was not a man of action, but of letters and rhetoric, so that for the rest of his life—while dwelling constantly on what had and what might have been—he was compelled to trim his sails to whatever strong political wind was blowing. At the moment it was clear that it blew from Caesar, and Cicero found himself defending, and even praising, the conduct of the proconsul in the far regions of Gaul.

Caesar had hoped to spare some time for Illyricum, a part of his command which had gone untouched by his ambition, but the news from Gaul soon had him hastening back to Brittany in the west. The annexation of large areas previously unaffected by the Roman sphere of influence had had unfortunate effects upon such hitherto free and independent peoples as the maritime Veneti. The advent of Roman traders, whose arrival in any newly conquered territory was always akin to the descent of vultures, threatened the whole of their economy with ruin. Their trade with their kinsfolk in Britain was endangered, and Roman officers entering their territory to requisition grain were seized as hostages. The Britons, equally anxious to secure their trading routes, offered them help, and even the inhabitants of Marseilles, for so long the most faithful allies of Rome, seeing the threat to their own trade with Britain, promised assistance to the Veneti. The importation of tin from Britain was one of the mainstays of the Marseilles trade, and the likelihood that Caesar would soon mount an expedition to the island threatened them with the loss of one of their main sources of income, since it was obvious that Roman merchants would secure this all-important metal for their own interests.

As soon as he heard of the rebellion, Caesar—even before leaving Italy—ordered the construction of a great Roman fleet on the Loire and the recruitment of crews for it in the Narbonese province. He had realized that, without control of the Channel, he would have no chance of invading the northern island, which he had every intention of doing. He himself arrived in the region of Angers early in May and saw at once that he was confronted not with a local revolt, but with one that was spreading from one area to another. The great province, which he had thought was tamed for permanent occupation, showed every sign of fragmenting into its old tribal structures, every one of them hostile to Rome. It was clear that so great an example must be made of these “rebels” (although the term could hardly be applied to people who had done no more than willingly welcome the Romans into their territory) that the spark of insurrection would be quenched at source.

An indication of the dangers that Caesar foresaw in the changed situation in Gaul was that, contrary to the usual Roman practice of keeping the entire army concentrated in one place around the general, he now divided the legions into five groups, his intention being to hold down all the tribes from Brittany eastward to the Rhine and southward to the Pyrenees. He himself took command of the troops destined to reduce the Veneti to submission, the core being his trusted Tenth Legion. To lead the seaborne attack on the Veneti coast he picked a young commander, not yet a senator, Decimus Brutus. His brilliance, subsequently proved, was to confirm Caesar’s judgment, and he would ultimately play an important part in Caesar’s life.

Throughout the summer the troops under Caesar worked hard and fought desperately, but all to no avail against an enemy who always retreated to fortified places at the sea’s edge, and who was always reinforced from the sea before he could be starved in submission. The Roman fleet took a long time to prepare and assemble, and Caesar, who at first had envisaged a simultaneous attack on the Veneti from both land and sea, was compelled to fight only from the land—and without success. The summer drew on and it was already August when at last the long-expected fleet arrived. Caesar was apprehensive, for he realized he was dealing with a race of seamen quite alien to any Roman conception derived from the Mediterranean.