The History of Rome: Rise and Fall of the Empire. John Bagnell Bury
Читать онлайн книгу.
Before starting he had taken the precaution to send his legatus C. Silius to make a demonstration against the Chatti, and had himself, with six legions, marched up the valley of Luppia, to secure strongholds and make provision for the return of his army. The fleet reached the mouth of the Amisia safely, and, leaving the ships anchored and guarded, the Romans advanced in a south-eastward direction to the banks of the Visurgis, where the Germans, prepared for their coming, had concentrated their forces under the leadership of the indefatigable Arminius. Here at length the Roman invader and the champion of German freedom were to fairly try their strength in a field of battle.
The reserved historian Tacitus rises to the occasion as he describes the campaign which decided both the destinies of Germany and the fortunes of his hero Germanicus. He embellishes his Germaniad with tales which have a ring of legend and throw over the young general a halo of romance which his deeds hardly deserved. The colloquy of Arminius and his renegade brother Flavus, standing on the opposite banks of the Visurgis, is, if not true, well imagined. Flavus had lost an eye in the service of the Romans, and Arminius, when he had inquired and learned the cause of the disfigurement, asked, “What was thy reward?”. “I received”, said Flavus, “increase of pay, a gold chain and crown, and other military distinctions”. “Vile badges of slavery”, sneered his brother. Flavus continued to praise the greatness of Rome and the Emperor, while Arminius appealed to ancestral freedom, and the national gods of Germany. At length such bitter words were bandied, and the wrath of the brothers rose so high, that they were about to plunge into the stream and grip each other in mortal struggle; but the Romans intervened and dragged Flavus from the bank. The night-adventure of Germanicus has the same epic flavor as the converse of the German brethren. The Romans crossed the Visurgis in the face of the enemy, who had retreated into the recesses of a sacred wood, and news was brought that Arminius contemplated a night-attack on the Roman camp. Tacitus tells us how Germanicus (like our own Henry V) was seized with a desire to ascertain the spirit of his soldiers, and how, for this purpose, he disguised himself, and, with a skin over his shoulders attended by one companion, he went round the camp and listened near the tents. He was pleased to hear his own praises loudly sung and to observe that the men were eager to punish the “perfidious” foe. As he traversed the camp a German horseman rode up to the rampart and in the Latin tongue invited deserters in the name of Arminius, with promises of lands, wives, and a daily sum of money. Scornful was the answer: “Let the day break, let battle begin; we will ourselves seize your wives and lands”.
The battle was fought in the plain of Idistaviso, which probably lies to the south of the Porta Westfalica on the right bank of the Visurgis. The Germans had occupied the lower slopes of the mountains, and were protected in the rear by a wood, unencumbered with brushwood, and thus offering an easy retreat. The Cherusci placed themselves on the higher hills, intending to rush down upon the Romans in the midst of the battle. While the legions and auxiliaries advanced to attack the German position in the open plain, Germanicus sent a body of cavalry round to out-flank the enemy and fall on their rear. This movement was completely successful. The German forces which were stationed in the wood were driven out of their cover into the plain, while at the same time the ranks which were drawn up in the plain were beaten back before the onset of the legions into the wood. The confusion was increased by the Cherusci, who were forced by the attack of the cavalry to descend from the hills into the midst of the battle. Arminius essayed bravely to sustain the fight, but he and his fellows were surrounded by the Roman forces, and their doom seemed sealed. Arminius, however, and Inguiomer managed to escape, perhaps owing to the treachery of some German auxiliaries; the rest were slain.
This decisive victory was gained by the Romans without any serious loss. The soldiers saluted Tiberius as “Imperator”, and erected a trophy of the arms of the enemy, subscribing the names of the conquered nations. The defeated and dejected Germans were, it is said, preparing to cross the Albis, and leave their country to the victor, but this trophy excited their rage, and decided them to make another desperate attempt. It may be suspected, however, that the battle of Idistaviso was less decisive than it has been represented. In any case, the enemy once more collected large forces, and occupied a place protected by woods and a deep swamp, and on one side by an old rampart. But Germanicus discovered their position, and did not fall into the trap. He attacked them on the side of the earthwork, and forced his way into the small space in which they were thickly packed together. Their position was desperate. If they retreated, they must perish in the marsh; and with their long swords they could sustain no equal combat with the legions at such close quarters. Germanicus, it is said, was in the thickest of the fray, crying that the Germans must be exterminated. But the barbarians fought well; Arminius escaped; and the cavalry engagement was indecisive. At nightfall the Romans returned to their camp, victorious indeed, but without having exterminated or routed the foe. The Angrivarii were the only tribe who sued for peace. Germanicus erected a second trophy, which told how the army of Tiberius Caesar, having subdued all the nations between the Rhine and the Albis, dedicated this monument to Mars, and Jupiter, and Augustus.
It was now the middle of summer, and Germanicus, notwithstanding his successes, resolved to retrace his steps. Some of the legions returned by land, others by sea on the ships which awaited them at the mouth of the Amisia. The voyage was disastrous, owing to violent gales which agitate the North Sea in the autumn season; the fleet was scattered, and Germanicus himself wrecked on the shore of the Chanci. The losses, however, were not so great as was at first thought, and on his return to the Rhine some successes gained against the Marsi and Chatti partly restored the spirits of the troops, which the sea disaster had damped; and the last of the captured eagles of Varus were recovered.
Germanicus deemed that he was now near the goal of his ambition. One more campaign would suffice, he thought, for the complete subjugation of Germany. But destiny decreed, and Tiberius judged, otherwise. It is clear enough that the victories of the last campaign were far less important and complete than Tacitus has tried to make them out. Their results were only temporary, and the Emperor, perhaps wisely, decided that no abiding result was likely to be achieved by Germanicus. There was indeed reason for disappointment; nothing had been accomplished in proportion to the magnitude of the expeditions. Accordingly Tiberius offered the consulship to his nephew, and this was equivalent to a recall. How far the sovran was influenced by a lurking jealousy of the popular general, how far he deemed it inexpedient that the close connection between Germanicus and the Rhine army should continue, we cannot say. But it is only fair to point out that the recall of Germanicus can be completely explained by political considerations, without taking into account any personal motives. Tiberius may have come to the conclusion that annual invasions of Germany were too slow and costly a method of winning the new province, even though it were certain that this method must ultimately succeed. A different policy was suggested by the intestine feuds of the barbarians. If the Romans retired from the field a deadly contest must soon take place between the Saxon and the Suevian tribes; and when the enemy had enfeebled themselves in domestic war, the Romans might step in and take possession of their country. This was a plausible policy, and was perhaps seriously entertained by Tiberius. But it is possible that he had really come to regard the advance to the Albis as a visionary idea which it would not be expedient to realize. If the Rhine troops changed their station to the banks of the Albis, would not another army be required to watch Gaul, and would the state be able to support another army? These were the questions which a statesman had to consider; and they may have decided Tiberius, as they seem to have decided Augustus, that the Rhine was roughly the limit. In any case, financial considerations had probably much to do with the disappointment of the dreams of Germanicus.
From the year 17 A.D. forward we never find one man uniting under his single authority both the government of the Gallic provinces and the command of the Germanic armies. Henceforward the three provinces of Gaul are administered by three praetorian governors; and the two frontier districts, Upper and Lower Germany, are kept strictly separate under two consular legati, who are always (up to the time of Hadrian) strictly military commanders (legati exercitus inferioris et superioris), not legati provinciae, though often loosely spoken of as such. The financial administration of these military districts was at first combined with that of Belgica (like that of Numidia with Africa). It is to be observed that for many years yet the province of Lower Germany extended beyond the Rhine and as far as the Lower Amisia.
The young general celebrated a brilliant