Augustus, page 49
The young Arminius first appears as the leader of a force of auxiliary soldiers raised from his own people to fight alongside the Romans, and his younger brother Flavus soon followed him into service with the Roman army. It may be that both of them spent some time as hostages in Rome, living in Augustus’ complex on the Palatine and receiving an education alongside the children of the princeps’ family, although there is no direct evidence for this. Certainly both became fluent in Latin, which no doubt made it easier to grant them Roman citizenship, for Augustus preferred to restrict the franchise to those he felt deserved to be Roman. Arminius saw considerable service with the Roman army, campaigning probably in Germany as well as Illyricum during the great rebellion. At some point he was granted equestrian status and by AD 7 returned to his homeland to become one of the key leaders of the Cherusci – even the minimum equestrian property qualification of 400,000 sesterces was a great fortune by the standards of the new province of Germany. Wealthy, with a proven record as an ally, and used to the manners of Rome’s elite, Arminius was a frequent dinner guest at the table of the imperial legatus in Germany, Publius Quinctilius Varus.2
Now in his fifties, Varus was an experienced governor who had served in Africa as proconsul and then in Syria as legate. Tiberius’ colleague as consul in 13 BC, he had married in turn a daughter of Agrippa and then Augustus’ great-niece, Claudia Pulchra, and was clearly seen by the princeps as loyal and reliable. In AD 7 he was given command of Germany, embracing the Rhine frontier and the developing province stretching to the Elbe; his task was to keep the area stable while the empire’s attention and resources were devoted to dealing with the rebel Pannonians and Dalmatians. Varus had five legions and substantial auxiliary forces to back up his authority, although it is more than likely that these were depleted by detachments sent to Illyricum. In addition, the serious shortage of army recruits make it unlikely that any new drafts went to Germany. At the same time, no doubt, many ambitious and capable officers sought postings to the great war being waged in the Balkans in the hope of winning distinction. The fact that Varus was not also sent there, or to one of the provinces directly bordering on the troubled region, in turn suggests that Augustus considered him capable rather than exceptionally gifted, at least as a military commander. In 4 BC, while legate of Syria, he had marched into Judaea and put on a display of force which had crushed the disorders following the death of Herod the Great, but this operation involved little actual fighting, and as far as we can tell Varus had never taken part in a battle.3
Yet the signs in Germany were encouraging, not least because local noblemen like Arminius were embracing Roman rule. By this time his father seems to have died, but his uncle was another frequent guest at Varus’ table, as was Segestes, a Cheruscan nobleman whose young son was a priest of the newly established cult of Rome and Augustus, based at the civic capital for the Ubii tribe (modern Cologne) founded by Agrippa. The last large-scale conflict had occurred in AD 5, and since then the peace of Germany had only been interrupted by minor outbreaks of rebellion against Rome and periodic inter-tribal violence. Under Varus, German chieftains started to settle disputes by appealing for the legate’s judgement rather than raiding each other. The recently founded Romanised civilian settlements were growing, often on or near the sites of former army bases.4
In later years Varus was criticised for treating the province as already fully established and peaceful rather than in the process of being conquered, and for despising the inhabitants, seeing the Germans as ‘human only in shape and speech, and that though they would not be subdued by the sword would nevertheless submit to law’. Yet this was very much the wisdom of hindsight, which does not mean that all of his actions were sensible or skilfully carried out. He began to impose a regular tax on the tribes, where most likely in the past they had only been subject to demands for cattle or crops when they submitted at the end of a conflict with Rome. The levy may or may not have been harsh, but it was new and inevitably resented as a sign that the Germans were not allies but subjects of Rome. Corruption was an all too frequent problem throughout the long history of Roman provincial administration, and may well have made things worse. Velleius claims that Varus was greedy, and that during his time in Syria he had gone ‘to a rich province as a poor man, and left a poor province as a rich man’.5
Resentment of Roman rule grew, stoked by taxation, and as in Pannonia it was especially strong in the younger warriors who had never faced the legions in battle. At the same time, fear of Rome’s might diminished in the face of their retreat from attacking Maroboduus and the long and difficult struggle to suppress the rebellion in Illyricum. It seemed that the Romans could be beaten, and even some of those who had done very well through allying with Rome began to wonder whether this was the wisest policy for the future. Arminius was one of them, and at some point the Roman eques decided to reject his new citizenship and rebel against the empire. We do not know when he made this decision or what triggered it. Anger at his own and the other tribes’ loss of independence is likely enough, quite probably with distaste for their treatment by the conquering power. Although made a Roman, he may have found his fellow citizens patronising at best. His brother Flavus’ name translates as ‘Blond’ or ‘Blondie’, and it is hard to tell whether this was meant as an insult or more affectionately, like such nicknames as Red, Ginger or Bluey. On the other hand we must also consider simple ambition. Arminius had risen high through association with the Romans, becoming one of the most important men in his tribe, but he may have decided that there was now little prospect of rising any further through continued loyalty. Recent events suggested that Rome was not invincible, and the man who led his own and other tribes to freedom would surely gain such immense prestige that he could win greater and more permanent power, with the prospect of becoming as strong a leader as Maroboduus. Personal ambition and desire for liberty are far from incompatible, and later events certainly suggested that Arminius yearned to rule.6
For the moment, though, he was cautious, planning a rebellion with care and in secrecy. In the spring and summer of AD 9 Varus began a tour of the province between the Rhine and the Elbe, taking with him three of his legions, the Seventeenth, Eighteenth and Nineteenth, supported by six cohorts of auxiliary infantry and three cavalry alae. It was a demonstration of Roman might rather than a campaign, since no serious resistance was expected. In response to local unrest, Varus sent small detachments to many of the villages and other communities who claimed to feel threatened and wanted protection. As he travelled he met with the noblemen in each area, listening to their petitions and arbitrating in their long and complex disputes in the normal manner of a Roman governor. By the end of the summer, the legate and his soldiers were preparing to return to winter quarters nearer the Rhine when news came of a rebellion further to the east. Arminius may well have told him of the outbreak, which he had secretly helped to arrange. Varus responded in the standard Roman way, just as he had done in Judaea in 4 BC, and immediately led his army against the rebels, and – again as in Judaea – open resistance crumbled as soon as the legions appeared.7
The problem apparently solved, in September Varus began the march back westwards, beginning later in the year and further away than he had planned. His supplies were surely running low, which meant that he needed to press on in some haste, but since there was no reason to expect further trouble this did not appear to be a serious problem. Given that his units were probably considerably under-strength, the column mustered at most some 10,000–15,000 fighting soldiers. There were also thousands of slaves, including those owned by the army and acting as grooms, muleteers and the like, as well as the slave and freed attendants of officers. Varus’ army was travelling in some style – we know that at least one officer had an ornate couch with ivory inlay in his baggage – and so was encumbered with large numbers of pack mules and wagons. There were also civilians, some of them probably traders supplying the soldiers, others simply happy to enjoy their protection after a season spent among the tribes, and large numbers of women and children. At some point Augustus banned soldiers from marrying, but we do not know whether this occurred as part of the wider military reforms in 13 BC or AD 6 or in another year. The reason was most likely a reluctance to support families or to pay widows and orphans as much as the desire to keep the legions sufficiently mobile to be ready to be shifted from one end of the empire to another. Depending on the date of the reform, some soldiers may still have been in service with wives, having married before the ban. Others simply ignored it, forming relationships and raising families even though it was illegal – something to which the authorities turned a blind eye.8
There were no wide, properly paved Roman roads so far into Germany, and the long column stretched for ten or more miles as it snaked along old cart tracks through a mix of woodland, cultivated fields, meadows and marshes. Its route was predictable, for the simple reason that it was forced to stay on the track. Local guides provided by Arminius and other tribal leaders helped the Romans find their way, and the column lumbered along with only the most basic security, its commander confident that he was in friendly territory and intent mainly on making progress before the autumn rains turned the path into a quagmire. Varus did not expect to face any threat, and so did not look for one; he trusted the scouts provided by the Cherusci and other tribes to give him plenty of warning in the unlikely event of trouble. When Segestes suddenly told him that Arminius was plotting rebellion, the imperial legate did nothing, no doubt dismissing the story as an attempt by one ambitious chieftain to discredit another. Arminius denied everything, and was after all a Roman and an equestrian of proven loyalty. Most Romans – like the leaders of most imperial powers – struggled to believe that anyone would reject the obvious advantages of joining their conquerors and enjoying the benefits of their ‘superior’ culture and dominance.9
A little later Arminius left the column, ostensibly going to fetch more auxiliaries, guides or other aid. Instead he went to join the army of warriors mustering to strike at the Romans. In the days that followed, small parties of tribesmen began to harry vulnerable sections of the column, retreating before the Romans could muster any sort of defence. Archaeological excavation at Kalkriese near Osnabrück revealed the site of what was probably the decisive ambush in a series of attacks mounted over some twenty or so miles, and shows Arminius’ careful preparations. He selected a narrow pass as a natural choke point, where the path ran through meadows with wooded hills on one side and boggy ground on the other. Improving on nature, the Germans felled trees to slow down the column, dug a trench to prevent the Romans from turning off onto another track and avoiding the ambush, and hemmed in the path on the other side by raising a rampart for 500 yards on the slope amid the trees. This was made partly from pieces of turf and partly from earth, and was clearly inspired by the fieldworks routinely built by the legions.10
Arminius had learned a lot from his service with the Roman army, and now employed his knowledge with ruthless skill. He had ensured Varus would take this route, and the preparations for the ambush must have taken days or more probably weeks. The odds were heavily stacked against the Romans, and became worse when heavy rain started falling, slowing everything down by turning the track to mud and making equipment awkward to handle. Varus did not cope well with the crisis. Early on he ordered much of the baggage train to be set on fire, a move likely to spread nervousness. Fast-moving attacks nibbled away at the column, and the sense of desperation spread. When they reached the carefully prepared ambush in the pass the attacks became heavier – the Germans’ wall had several sally ports built into it to allow the warriors to surge forward and then retreat to its shelter. Although no more than five feet high, it was enough to take the momentum out of any charge, and gave the warriors fighting from it a significant height advantage. Hemmed in along the narrow path, and struck from several directions at once, the Romans struggled to form any sort of co-ordinated fighting line.11
An exceptional commander might still have got them through, bringing enough order to the chaos to mount a concerted attack on the enemy. Varus was not such a man, and early on lost control. One of his subordinates led the cavalry off on their own, to be surrounded and massacred on another path. Varus himself was wounded – we do not know how badly – and soon afterwards committed suicide along with several other senior officers. His father had similarly killed himself after Philippi, but while the Roman aristocracy could admire suicide when on the losing side in a civil war, this was never acceptable for a commander leading an army against a foreign enemy. If their commander despaired, there was little incentive for his men to fight on. Some, including several senior officers, surrendered, while others fled and were cut down without resistance by the tribesmen. A few still fought, and mounted desperate attempts to break through the wall and escape the trap. Parts of the rampart collapsed during the struggle and the excavations provide cameos of the last bitter fights. The skeleton of a mule was found, the bell hanging from its collar stuffed full of grass freshly yanked up by the roots to muffle the sound, hinting at an attempt to attack in silence under cover of darkness. The remains of another mule were found where it had scrambled over the wall and then broken its neck as it fell down the other side.12
Efforts to break out failed, and one by one the men of Varus’ army died. Many of the prisoners soon joined them, sacrificed by the jubilant Germans as thanks to the gods for their victory. Others were taken as slaves, and in the years to come some would escape or be ransomed and tell stories of the horror of those days. Varus had been given a hasty but ineffective cremation, and his buried remains were dug up and mistreated. The three legionary eagles were taken, as were many other standards and a great haul of armour, weapons and other equipment. Trophies of their success were distributed among the tribes, or sent to others encouraging them to join the rebellion. Varus’ head was sent to Maroboduus, but the king of the Marcomanni preferred to keep the peace with Rome and feared Arminius as a rival, and so sent the grisly object to the Romans. It was eventually carried to Rome, properly cremated, and respectably buried.13
News of the catastrophe in Germany reached Rome only five days after the formal declaration of victory in Illyricum, and this at least meant that in time it should be possible to transfer troops from the Balkans to the Rhine frontier. Yet it was a far greater defeat than any of those suffered at the hands of the Pannonian and Dalmatian rebels, and drew parallels with disasters like Carrhae in 53 BC or even the great defeats inflicted by Hannibal. Three legions had been lost – more than a tenth of the entire army gone in a matter of days – and until more news arrived there was no knowing whether the other forces in Germany had also been wiped out and whether hordes of German warriors were across the Rhine and plundering Gaul. Serious in itself, it was even more of a challenge to a princeps and his regime which prided itself on constant victory based on a proper relationship with the gods. Worse still, one of his armies had lost its precious eagles and created a new stain on Rome’s honour, all the more damaging since recovery of standards lost in the past had been so trumpeted by Imperator Caesar Augustus. Fear and horror spread rapidly through Rome.14
Augustus was shocked, but seems this time to have felt more anger than despair; Dio claims some sources spoke of the princeps tearing his clothes in frustration. He increased patrols of the City’s fourteen regions to prevent any disorder and particularly in case slaves of barbarian origin took it into their heads to riot. This was unlikely, but the visible presence of troops emphasised that the state was still in control, reassuring the nervous and intimidating the potentially unruly. An even less likely threat was posed by the Germans serving as a cavalry bodyguard to the princeps himself – a unit which at some point had replaced the Spanish bodyguards of his youth. These men were very publicly sent away from Rome. Another even more powerful gesture was the vowing of special games in honour of Jupiter Optimus Maximus ‘if the state of the res publica should get better’ – a typically Augustan revival of a ritual not used for more than a century. At the same time he extended the tenures of his provincial governors to ensure stability and the supervision of experienced men throughout the empire. A fresh recruiting campaign was ordered, but unsurprisingly found the well of recruits even drier than in AD 6. Conscription of citizens chosen by lot was introduced in spite of its unpopularity. Some men still tried to dodge the draft and a number were executed as warnings. In the meantime serving soldiers’ terms were extended, more discharged veterans recalled, and once again slaves were purchased, given freedom and formed into special units.15
Tiberius was soon despatched to the Rhineland to take charge. In the meantime Augustus refused to be shaved or have his hair cut for several months, repeating the gesture of mourning he had adopted to honour the murdered Julius Caesar. This time no coin or other image showed his bearded face, and instead of the scruffy, wild-haired old man, his images continued to depict the ageless and imperturbable princeps. Privately he raged against Varus, and sometimes banged his head against the doors in his house, yelling, ‘Quinctilius Varus, return my legions!’ The dead commander was made a scapegoat, and the earliest sources also painted Arminius as a traitor. Neither view was altogether unfair, but each fell short of the whole story. In future the princeps marked the date of the disaster with a day of mourning. No legions were raised to replace the three lost, which in itself shows that there were barely enough recruits to top up existing units. Even in later years, when new legions were raised, the numbers seventeen, eighteen and nineteen were never revived.16
In the months that followed, slightly better news arrived from Germany. In the manner of irregular armies throughout history, Arminius’ men had dispersed after their victory, taking their plunder home for the winter. For the moment only a few stayed in the field, joined by others inspired by their success and eager to win glory and loot for themselves. Most of the small detachments scattered around the country by Varus were lost, but when a force of warriors attacked the army base at Aliso – probably the excavated site at Haltern – their attacks were repulsed. After a gallant defence, the garrison and a large number of civilians slipped away under cover of darkness and managed a dramatic escape to the safety of the Rhine frontier. All the crossings of the river were held – and indeed do not seem to have faced a serious attack. Varus’ two remaining legions and some auxiliaries were largely intact and their commanders doing their best to organise a coherent defence.17
