FIFTH BOOK OF THE WAR IN GAUL.--CÆSAR’S SECOND INVASION OF BRITAIN.--THE
GAULS RISE AGAINST HIM.--B.C. 54.
On his return out of Britain, Cæsar, as usual, went over the Alps to
look after his other provinces, and to attend to his business in Italy;
but he was determined to make another raid upon the island. He could not
yet assume that he had “taken it,” and therefore he left minute
instructions with his generals as to the building of more ships, and the
repair of those which had been so nearly destroyed. He sends to Spain,
he tells us, for the things necessary to equip his ships. We never hear
of any difficulty about money. We know that he did obtain large grants
from Rome for the support of his legions; but no scruple was made in
making war maintain war, as far as such maintenance could be obtained.
Cæsar personally was in an extremity of debt when he commenced his
campaigns. He had borrowed an enormous sum, eight hundred and thirty
talents, or something over £200,000, from Crassus,--who was specially
the rich Roman of those days,--before he could take charge of his
Spanish province. When his wars were over, he returned to Rome with a
great treasure; and indeed during these wars in Gaul he expended large
sums in bribing Romans. We may suppose that he found hoards among the
barbarians, as Lord Clive did in the East Indies. Clive contented
himself with taking some: Cæsar probably took all.
Having given the order about his ships, he settled a little matter in
Illyricum, taking care to raise some tribute there also. He allows but a
dozen lines for recording this winter work, and then tells us that he
hurried back to his army and his ships. His command had been so well
obeyed in regard to vessels, that he finds ready, of that special sort
which he had ordered with one bank of oars only on each side, as many as
six hundred, and twenty-eight of the larger sort. He gives his soldiers
very great credit for their exertions, and sends his fleet to the Portus
Itius. The exact spot which Cæsar called by this name the geographers
have not identified, but it is supposed to be between Boulogne and
Calais. It may probably have been at Wissant. Having seen that things
were thus ready for a second trip into Britain, he turns round and
hurries off with four legions and eight hundred cavalry,--an army of
25,000 men,--into the Treves country. There is a quarrel going on there
between two chieftains which it is well that he should settle,--somewhat
as the monkey settled the contest about the oyster. This, however, is a
mere nothing of an affair, and he is back again among his ships at the
Portus Itius in a page and a half.
He resolves upon taking five legions of his own soldiers into Britain,
and two thousand mounted Gauls. He had brought together four thousand of
these horsemen, collected from all Gaul, their chiefs and nobles, not
only as fighting allies, but as hostages that the tribes should not rise
in rebellion while his back was turned. These he divides, taking half
with him, and leaving half with three legions of his own men, under
Labienus, in the Boulogne country, as a base to his army, to look after
the provisions, and to see that he be not harassed on his return. There
is a little affair, however, with one of the Gaulish chieftains,
Dumnorix the Æduan, who ought to have been his fastest friend. Dumnorix
runs away with all the Æduan horsemen. Cæsar, however, sends after him
and has him killed, and then all things are ready. He starts with
altogether more than 800 ships at sunset, and comes over with a gentle
south-west wind. He arrives off the coast of Britain at about noon, but
can see none of the inhabitants on the cliff. He imagines that they have
all fled, frightened by the number of his ships. Cæsar establishes his
camp, and proceeds that same night about twelve miles into the
country,--eleven miles, we may say, as our mile is longer than the
Roman,--and there he finds the Britons. There is some fighting, after
which Cæsar returns and fortifies his camp. Then there comes a storm and
knocks his ships about terribly,--although he had found, as he thought,
a nice soft place for them. But the tempest is very violent, and they
are torn away from their anchors, and thrust upon the shore, and dashed
against each other till there is infinite trouble. He is obliged to
send over to Labienus, telling him to build more ships; and those which
are left he drags up over the shore to his camp, in spite of the
enormous labour required in doing it. He is ten days at this work, night
and day, and we may imagine that his soldiers had not an easy time of
it. When this has been done, he advances again into the country after
the enemy, and finds that Cassivellaunus is in command of the united
forces of the different tribes. Cassivellaunus comes from the other side
of the Thames, over in Middlesex or Hertfordshire. The Britons had not
hitherto lived very peaceably together, but now they agree that against
the Romans they will act in union under Cassivellaunus.
Cæsar’s description of the island is very interesting. The interior is
inhabited by natives,--or rather by “aborigines.” Cæsar states this at
least as the tradition of the country. But the maritime parts are held
by Belgian immigrants, who, for the most part, have brought with them
from the Continent the names of their tribes. The population is great,
and the houses, built very like the houses in Gaul, are numerous and
very thick together. The Britons have a great deal of cattle. They use
money, having either copper coin or iron rings of a great weight. Tin is
found in the middle of the island, and, about the coast, iron. But the
quantity of iron found is small. Brass they import. They have the same
timber as in Gaul,--only they have neither beech nor fir. Hares and
chickens and geese they think it wrong to eat; but they keep these
animals as pets. The climate, on the whole, is milder than in Gaul. The
island is triangular. One corner, that of Kent, has an eastern and a
southern aspect. This southern side of the island he makes 500 miles,
exceeding the truth by about 150 miles. Then Cæsar becomes a little hazy
in his geography,--telling us that the other side, meaning the western
line of the triangle, where Ireland lies, verges towards Spain. Ireland,
he says, is half the size of Britain, and about the same distance from
it that Britain is from Gaul. In the middle of the channel dividing
Ireland from Britain there is an island called Mona,--the Isle of Man.
There are also some other islands which at midwinter have thirty
continuous days of night. Here Cæsar becomes not only hazy but mythic.
But he explains that he has seen nothing of this himself, although he
has ascertained, by scientific measurement, that the nights in Britain
are shorter than on the Continent. Of course the nights are shorter with
us in summer than they are in Italy, and longer in winter. The western
coast he makes out to be 700 miles long; in saying which he is nearly
100 miles over the mark. The third side he describes as looking towards
the north. He means the eastern coast. This he calls 800 miles long, and
exaggerates our territories by more than 200 miles. The marvel, however,
is that he should be so near the truth. The men of Kent are the most
civilised: indeed they are almost as good as Gauls in this respect! What
changes does not time make in the comparative merits of countries! The
men in the interior live on flesh and milk, and do not care for corn.
They wear skin clothing. They make themselves horrible with woad, and go
about with very long hair. They shave close, except the head and upper
lip. Then comes the worst habit of all;--ten or a dozen men have their
wives in common between them.
We have a very vivid and by no means unflattering account of the
singular agility of our ancestors in their mode of fighting from their
chariots. “This,” says Cæsar, “is the nature of their chariot-fighting.
They first drive rapidly about the battle-field,--“per omnes
partes,”--and throw their darts, and frequently disorder the ranks by
the very terror occasioned by the horses and by the noise of the wheels;
and when they have made their way through the bodies of the cavalry,
they jump down and fight on foot. Then the charioteers go a little out
of the battle, and so place their chariots that they may have a ready
mode of returning should their friends be pressed by the number of their
enemies. Thus they unite the rapidity of cavalry and the stability of
infantry; and so effective do they become by daily use and practice,
that they are accustomed to keep their horses, excited as they are, on
their legs on steep and precipitous ground, and to manage and turn them
very quickly, and to run along the pole and stand upon the yoke,”--by
which the horses were held together at the collars,--“and again with the
greatest rapidity to return to the chariot.”[10] All which is very
wonderful.
Of course there is a great deal of fighting, and the Britons soon learn
by experience to avoid general engagements and maintain guerilla
actions. Cæsar by degrees makes his way to the Thames, and with great
difficulty gets his army over it. He can only do this at one place, and
that badly. The site of this ford he does not describe to us. It is
supposed to have been near the place which we now know as Sunbury. He
does tell us that his men were so deep in the water that their heads
only were above the stream. But even thus they were so impetuous in
their onslaught, that the Britons would not wait for them on the
opposite bank, but ran away. Soon there come unconditional surrender,
and hostages, and promises of tribute. Cassivellaunus, who is himself
but a usurper, and therefore has many enemies at home, endeavours to
make himself secure in a strong place or town, which is supposed to have
been on or near the site of our St Albans. Cæsar, however, explains that
the poor Britons give the name of a town,--“oppidum,”--to a spot in
which they have merely surrounded some thick woods with a ditch and
rampart. Cæsar, of course, drives them out of their woodland fortress,
and then there quickly follows another surrender, more hostages, and the
demand for tribute. Cæsar leaves his orders behind him, as though to
speak were to be obeyed. One Mandubratius, and not Cassivellaunus, is
to be the future king in Middlesex and Hertfordshire,--that is, over the
Trinobantes who live there. He fixes the amount of tribute to be sent
annually by the Britons to Rome; and he especially leaves orders that
Cassivellaunus shall do no mischief to the young Mandubratius. Then he
crosses back into Gaul at two trips,--his ships taking half the army
first and coming back for the other half; and he piously observes that
though he had lost many ships when they were comparatively empty, hardly
one had been destroyed while his soldiers were in them.
So was ended Cæsar’s second and last invasion of Britain. That he had
reduced Britain as he had reduced Gaul he certainly could not
boast;--though Quintus Cicero had written to his brother to say that
Britannia was,--“confecta,”--finished. Though he had twice landed his
army under the white cliffs, and twice taken it away with comparative
security, he had on both occasions been made to feel how terribly strong
an ally to the Britons was that channel which divided them from the
Continent. The reader is made to feel that on both occasions the
existence of his army and of himself is in the greatest peril. Cæsar’s
idea in attacking Britain was probably rather that of making the Gauls
believe that his power could reach even beyond them,--could extend
itself all round them, even into distant islands,--than of absolutely
establishing the Roman dominion beyond that distant sea. The Britons had
helped the Gauls in their wars with him, and it was necessary that he
should punish any who presumed to give such help. Whether the orders
which he left behind him were obeyed we do not know; but we may imagine
that the tribute exacted was not sent to Rome with great punctuality. In
fact, Cæsar invaded the island twice, but did not reduce it.
On his return to Gaul, nearly at the close of the summer, he found
himself obliged to distribute his army about the country because of a
great scarcity of provisions. There had been a drought, and the crops
had failed. Hitherto he had kept his army together during the winter;
now he was obliged to divide his legions, placing one with one tribe,
and another with another. A legion and a half he stations under two of
his generals, L. Titurius Sabinus, and L. Aurunculeius Cotta, among the
Eburones, who live on the banks of the Meuse in the Liege and Namur
country,--a very stout people, who are still much averse to the dominion
of Rome. In this way he thought he might best get over that difficulty
as to the scarcity of provisions; but yet he so well understood the
danger of separating his army, that he is careful to tell us that, with
the exception of one legion which he had stationed in a very quiet
country,--among the Essui, where Alençon now stands,--they were all
within a hundred miles of each other. Nevertheless, in spite of this
precaution, there now fell upon Cæsar the greatest calamity which he had
ever yet suffered in war.
During all these campaigns, the desire of the Gauls to free themselves
from the power and the tyranny of Rome never ceased; nor did their
intention to do so ever fade away. Cæsar must have been to them as a
venomous blight, or some evil divinity sent to afflict them for causes
which they could not understand. There were tribes who truckled to him,
but he had no real friends among them. If any Gauls could have loved
him, the Ædui should have done so; but that Dumnorix, the Æduan, who ran
away with the horsemen of his tribe when he was wanted to help in the
invasion of Britain, had, before he was killed, tried to defend himself,
asserting vociferously that he was a free man and belonging to a free
state. He had failed to understand that, in being admitted to the
alliance of Cæsar, he was bound to obey Cæsar. Cæsar speaks of it all
with his godlike simplicity, as though he saw nothing ungodlike in the
work he was doing. There was no touch of remorse in him, as he ordered
men to be slaughtered and villages to be burned. He was able to look at
those things as trifles,--as parts of a great whole. He felt no more
than does the gentleman who sends the sheep out of his park to be
slaughtered at the appointed time. When he seems to be most cruel, it is
for the sake of example,--that some politic result may follow,--that
Gauls may know, and Italians know also, that they must bow the knee to
Cæsar. But the heart of the reader is made to bleed as he sees the
unavailing struggles of the tribes. One does not specially love the
Ædui; but Dumnorix protesting that he will not return, that he is a free
man, of a free state, and then being killed, is a man to be loved. Among
the Carnutes, where Chartres now stands, Cæsar has set up a pet king,
one Tasgetius; but when Cæsar is away in Britain, the Carnutes kill
Tasgetius. They will have no pet of Cæsar’s. And now the stout Eburones,
who have two kings of their own over them, Ambiorix and Cativolcus,
understanding that Cæsar’s difficulty is their opportunity, attack the
Roman camp, with its legion and a half of men under Titurius and Cotta.
Ambiorix, the chieftain, is very crafty. He persuades the Roman generals
to send ambassadors to him, and to these he tells his story. He himself,
Ambiorix, loves Cæsar beyond all things. Has not Cæsar done him great
kindnesses? He would not willingly lift a hand against Cæsar, but he
cannot control his state. The facts, however, are thus; an enormous body
of Germans has crossed the Rhine, and is hurrying on to destroy that
Roman camp; and it certainly will be destroyed, so great is the number
of the Germans. Thus says Ambiorix; and then suggests whether it would
not be well that Titurius and Cotta with their nine or ten thousand
men,--a mere handful of men against all these Germans who are already
over the Rhine;--would it not be well that the Romans should go and join
some of their brethren, either the legion that is among the Nervii to
the east, under Quintus Cicero, the brother of the great orator--or that
other legion which Labienus has, a little to the south, on the borders
of the Remi and Treviri? And in regard to a good turn on his own part,
so great is the love and veneration which he, Ambiorix, feels for Cæsar,
that he is quite ready to see the Romans safe through the territories of
the Eburones. He begs Titurius and Cotta to think of this, and to allow
him to aid them in their escape while escape is possible. The two Roman
generals do think of it. Titurius thinks that it will be well to take
the advice of Ambiorix. Cotta, and with him many of the tribunes and
centurions of the soldiers, think that they should not stir without
Cæsar’s orders;--think also that there is nothing baser or more foolish
in warfare than to act on advice given by an enemy. Titurius, however,
is clear for going, and Cotta, after much argument and some invective,
gives way. Early on the next morning they all leave their camp, taking
with them their baggage, and marching forth as though through a friendly
country,--apparently with belief in the proffered friendship of
Ambiorix. The Eburones had of course prepared an ambush, and the Roman
army is attacked both behind and before, and is thrown into utter
confusion.
The legion, or legion and a half, with its two commanders, is altogether
destroyed. Titurius goes out from his ranks to meet Ambiorix, and pray
for peace. He is told to throw away his arms, and submitting to the
disgrace, casts them down. Then, while Ambiorix is making a long speech,
the Roman general is surrounded and slaughtered. Cotta is killed
fighting; as also are more than half the soldiers. The rest get back
into the camp at night, and then, despairing of any safety, overwhelmed
with disgrace, conscious that there is no place for hope, they destroy
themselves. Only a few have escaped during the fighting to tell the tale
in the camp of Labienus.
As a rule the reader’s sympathies are with the Gauls; but we cannot help
feeling a certain regret that a Roman legion should have thus been wiled
on to destruction through the weakness of its general. If Titurius could
have been made to suffer alone we should bear it better. When we are
told how the gallant eagle-bearer, Petrosidius, throws his eagle into
the rampart, and then dies fighting before the camp, we wish that
Ambiorix had been less successful. Of this, however, we feel quite
certain, that there will come a day, and that soon, in which Cæsar will
exact punishment.
Having done so much, Ambiorix and the Eburones do not desist. Now, if
ever, after so great a disgrace, and with legions still scattered, may
Cæsar be worsted. Q. Cicero is with his legion among the Nervii, and
thither Ambiorix goes. The Nervii are quite ready, and Cicero is
attacked in his camp. And here, too, for a long while it goes very badly
with the Romans;--so badly that Cicero is hardly able to hold his
ramparts against the attacks made upon them by the barbarians. Red-hot
balls of clay and hot arrows are thrown into the camp, and there is a
fire. The messengers sent to Cæsar for help are slain on the road, and
the Romans begin to think that there is hardly a chance for them of
escape. Unless Cæsar be with them they are not safe. All their power,
their prestige, their certainty of conquest, lies in Cæsar. Cicero
behaves like a prudent and a valiant man; but unless he had at last
succeeded in getting a Gaulish slave to take a letter concealed in a
dart to Cæsar, the enemy would have destroyed him.
There is a little episode of two Roman centurions, Pulfius and Varenus,
who were always quarrelling as to which was the better man of the two.
Pulfius with much bravado rushes out among the enemy, and Varenus
follows him. Pulfius gets into trouble, and Varenus rescues him. Then
Varenus is in a difficulty, and Pulfius comes to his assistance.
According to all chances of war, both should have been killed; but both
get back safe into the camp;--and nobody knows from that day to this
which was the better man. Cæsar, of course, hastens to the assistance
of his lieutenant, having sent word of his coming by a letter fastened
to another dart, which, however, hardly reaches Cicero in time to
comfort him before he sees the fires by which the coming legions wasted
the country along their line of march. Then there is more fighting.
Cæsar conquers, and Q. Cicero is rescued from his very disagreeable
position. Labienus has also been in difficulty, stationed, as we
remember, on the borders of the Treviri. The Treviri were quite as eager
to attack him as the Eburones and Nervii to destroy the legions left in
their territories. But before the attack is made, the news of Cæsar’s
victory, travelling with wonderful speed, is heard of in those parts,
and the Treviri think it best to leave Labienus alone.
But Cæsar has perceived that, although he has so often boasted that all
Gaul was at last at peace, all Gaul is prepared to carry on the war
against him. It is during this winter that he seems to realise a
conviction that his presence in the country is not popular with the
Gauls in general, and that he has still much to do before he can make
them understand that they are not free men, belonging to free states.
The opposition to him has become so general that he himself determines
to remain in Gaul all the winter; and even after telling us of the
destruction of Indutiomarus, the chief of the Treviri, by Labienus, he
can only boast that--“Cæsar had, after that was done, Gaul a little
quieter,”--a little more like a subject country bound hand and
foot,--than it was before. During this year Cæsar’s proconsular power
over his provinces was extended for a second period of five years.