100 Mistakes that Changed History

by Bill Fawcett

  The Gallic warriors were a different breed. They were warriors and not soldiers. While Vercingetorix’s training had helped make them more effective as an army, personal heroics were still highly valued. They were not experienced at siege warfare, and while quite capable of building fortifications, they were not as adept in attacking or holding them. This is demonstrated by the number of Gallic cities that had fallen to Caesar that decade. The Gauls were masters at moving quickly and hitting hard.

  Knowing where Caesar was going and that he had an army about twice as large as the Romans’, Vercingetorix moved his army to a strategic point along the route to Provence. Then he made a move that almost ensured defeat.

  The city of Alesia had great natural defenses. It was set on steep cliffs with rivers on two sides. Vercingetorix knew that the Romans could not just bypass his army or it would attack them from the rear while they besieged Provence. So if they could not go past, he assumed they would have to stop and lay siege to his army, held up in what was perhaps the best defensive position in Gaul. What he did not realize was that by doing this, he was in a situation that played into just about every strength of the Romans, while neutralizing the personal courage and endurance that set apart his own forces.

  Julius Caesar did arrive at Alesia and found more than 100,000 Gauls entrenched in the city and ready to resist any attack by his 60,000 Romans, auxiliary, and German cavalry. He could not leave that large an army in his rear. Vercingetorix was right; Caesar could not continue to Provence. It was also obvious that attacking the high walls of Alesia with almost double their number in defenders behind them would have been suicidal for the Romans.

  So Caesar did not attack.

  Instead he ordered his army to begin building a wall around the entire city. Crossing two rivers and fronted by a twenty-foot-deep trench, Caesar’s inner wall ran for ten miles and completely cut off Alesia. There was a tower every 120 feet and all sorts of traps and sharp objects scattered in front of the wall that served to break up any Gallic attack. And the Roman legionnaires could dig. Every night they fortified their camps within walls made from stakes they carried on the march. The walls around Alesia soon proved as immune to attack as the walls of that city itself.

  So the Gauls waited vainly for a Roman attack that never came. By locking himself up in a city, Vercingetorix had managed to take a great field army and trap it inside Roman walls. He had turned it from a battle of swords and spears to one of shovels and picks. He had managed to put his larger army in a position in which they had to fight on Roman terms, and no one could dig, build, or defend any wall better than the Roman legionnaires.

  When it became obvious he was under siege and unable to break out, the Gallic leader sent out riders to summon all the warriors not trapped in Alesia to come to his relief. They got out just before the first wall was completed, but not without the Romans learning of their mission. Knowing that someday another army would most likely appear to relieve the siege of Alesia, Caesar ordered yet another wall built. This wall faced outward and ran for fourteen miles. By the time the relief army arrived, the second wall was finished. It all came down to a climactic battle fought among the Roman walls.

  Vercingetorix also now had a serious problem: Inside Alesia they had run out of food. He had already driven out the women and children, whom Caesar refused to let pass out through his walls. So they starved, exposed just below the city’s walls and in sight of their husbands and fathers. The Gauls had to break through both walls and free Vercingetorix’s army or starvation alone would force it to surrender.

  Over 200,000 more Gauls, less well organized but ready to fight, appeared outside one section of the walls. The Romans were facing perhaps nearly 300,000 Gallic warriors inside and out with 40,000 legionnaires and 15,000 other auxiliaries, including 5,000 Germanic horsemen. They were outnumbered six to one, but they were fighting their kind of battle. The battle was fought on Roman terms and amid the Roman fortifications. Even so, the final confrontation at Alesia was a close thing and only a last-minute charge by the Germanic cavalry saved the day.

  The relief army was stopped, broken, and scattered. The men in Alesia remained trapped and starving. A few days later, Vercingetorix personally rode into the Roman camp and surrendered his army. His 90,000 warriors became slaves and never again did the Celts of Gaul resist rule by Rome.

  Vercingetorix made one mistake in an otherwise brilliant revolt. He voluntarily trapped his army inside Alesia in a position that played to the Romans’ strengths and nullified his own. Had Caesar attacked, the Romans would have suffered terrible casualties, but in war you should never assume the enemy will do what you want. Had the Gallic army of 300,000 warriors met Caesar in an open field, they might well have triumphed. If Vercingetorix had not made the mistake of locking his army inside Alesia, France, then the world today would have a lot more Gaul and a lot less Roman in it.

  13

  NO GOING BACK

  Most Useless Cut of All

  44 BCE

  In 458 BCE, when the consular army of Rome was besieged by the Aequins, the Senate declared a state of emergency so they might elect a dictator to save them from their peril. They chose Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus to take up this noble cause. He defeated the Aequins in one day, led a triumph through Rome, and shortly thereafter returned to his quiet, peaceful life as a farmer. Though most people today have not heard of Cincinnatus (aside from the city bearing his name), he had quite an important role to play in history. In the eyes of the Roman republic, he was the ideal citizen. He took command when the country needed him most, and he gave it up just as easily when the danger had passed.

  In the glorious days of the republic, citizens recited the accounts of Cincinnatus as a reminder to those seeking absolute authority. Not all who listened heeded the warnings. Gaius Julius Caesar, for example, took far more interest in stories about fighting men like Achilles and Alexander the Great than he did in those about part-time warriors like Cincinnatus. He believed leadership must be determined by might, and in 49 BCE he exercised that might when he crossed the Rubicon with his army and marched on Rome. His army then controlled the city, and the mob adored him. After Caesar’s exploits in Egypt, his influence increased again, and he became even more powerful. Certain members of the Senate thought that he meant to take total control, and they came to the conclusion that he had to be stopped at all costs. So, on the Ides of March 44 BCE, these members stabbed Caesar to death on the Senate floor, thus ending the reign of the would-be dictator and stamping out any possibility of empiric rule. With Caesar’s threat gone once more, the Senate would rule the empire. Well . . . not exactly. In fact, the death of Julius Caesar had the opposite effect and forever put an end to the great age of the Roman republic.

  Rome became a republic in 509 BCE when the people rose up against the last of the Etruscan kings, Tarquin the Proud, and deposed him. Although they rebelled against their king, the people still saw the need for supreme authority. So, they gave this power to two consuls who served one-year terms of office. Each had the power to veto the other, and neither could change the laws without the other’s permission. The government also included a Senate made up of the fathers of the community, or patricians. In the fifth century BCE, the government created the Tribunate of the Plebes in response to outcries by the plebeian class. Similar to the House of Commons, this branch consisted of a plebeian assembly and a tribune. The plebeian assembly included all the plebes of Rome, and they elected the tribune, who served one-year terms and had the power of veto, which by the way means, “I forbid.” The system seemed flawless, but it did not take into account humankind’s hunger for power.

  Rivalries grew rampant in the government with each man vying for his own political gain. These rivalries came to a head in 91 BCE after the assassination of the newly elected tribune, Marcus Livius Drusus, who had some radical ideas like extending citizenship to all cities on the Italian peninsula. Needless to say, “Power to the people” was not in vogue at that t
ime. Ten years later, antagonisms flared up again because of contention between two men, Lucius Cornelius Sulla and Gaius Marius. Sulla wanted to strengthen the power of the Senate, but Marius resisted him. Upon being elected consul in 88 BCE, Sulla had his authority undermined when Marius tried to take command of the army from him. Although Sulla was in Naples preparing to go to war against the king of Pontus, whose forces were encroaching on Rome, he elected instead to turn back to Rome and lead his forces into the city to face Marius once and for all. It was the first time in history that a Roman commander led troops against the city.

  Sulla proclaimed himself dictator and remained in the role even after the death of Marius years later. He retired from politics in 79 BCE, but not before he had packed the Senate full of his friends, giving them more authority, while decreasing the power of the tribunes. Sulla’s rise to power put a sour taste in the mouths of the government officials, and they vowed to prevent any future recurrences. So, to curb the enthusiasm of overzealous generals, new laws were put into place. In spite of these laws, a new golden boy rose up through the ranks and won favor with the Senate.

  Gnaeus Pompeius, better known as Pompey the Great, became consul despite being underage and having never before held office. He immediately rescinded one of Sulla’s laws, thereby restoring authority to the tribunes. Pompey seemed to be paving the road to his own dictatorship. However, after defeating the Mithridates of Pontus, Pompey disbanded his army and waited for an official invitation to enter the city in triumph. Although the Senate granted him a triumph, they refused to honor the agreements Pompey had made with foreign monarchs, and they did not approve the land grants for his veterans. Pompey formed a secret alliance with two other men who had been slighted by the Senate—Marcus Licinius Crassus and Gaius Julius Caesar.

  Crassus is perhaps best known for his part in squelching the slave rebellion led by Spartacus. Caesar, of course, needs no introduction. In what became known as the First Triumvirate, the three members sought to use their influence to control choice offices and military commands. They did not seek total control. But, as is often the case, the appetites grew with the taking. Each man gained his own victories and jealousy soon began to rear its ugly head. After the death of Crassus in 53 BCE, Pompey and Caesar launched campaigns to destroy each other. While Caesar gained status from his military victories in Gaul, Pompey consolidated his power in Rome. Through their persuasion, the two men used the Senate as pawns to gain the upper hand in their personal feud. Pompey convinced the Senate to order Caesar to disband his army. It was the final straw.

  Caesar’s famous march across the Rubicon was in direct response to Pompey’s vie for power. With the exploits of Sulla still fresh in their minds, most of the Senate fled, along with their ill-prepared leader. Caesar pursued Pompey through Spain, Greece, and finally Egypt, where his old rival and in-law was promptly stabbed to death as soon as his feet hit the dry Egyptian land. The assassin worked for the boy-king Ptolemy, who feared befriending Pompey on account of Caesar and also feared letting him escape. Ptolemy ruled Egypt alongside his alluring sister, Cleopatra, and we all know the scandal she caused. So Caesar became involved with the beautiful, exotic woman from a far-off land; he wanted to be worshiped as a god and wanted absolute power.

  When Caesar returned to Rome, his authority far surpassed that of the Senate. With this power, he accomplished a great many deeds. He pardoned many of his old rivals, including Cicero, and had them reinstated into office. He created jobs for the poor and put a tighter leash on crime, and he corrected many problems in the empire’s administrative system. He planned roads, and he even gave us the Julian calendar. Many Roman nobles concerned themselves less with Caesar’s accomplishments and more with his motives. They suspected that, like Sulla, Caesar sought to make himself dictator. In fact, his unlimited power coupled with the fact that Caesar believed himself to be a god, left very little doubt in the minds of the people as to his plans. He would not be willing to simply step down from such a powerful position. This is what convinced certain members of the Senate in 44 BCE that the only way to put an end to Caesar’s reign would be to put an end to Caesar.

  The conspirators should have taken a page from their own history, because looking back from the time of Drusus it becomes evident that the death of a dictator did not always guarantee the fall of the dictatorship. There would always be someone waiting for his chance to rise up and seize power. In the case of Caesar, three men rose up to take his place. This Second Triumvirate was made up of Caesar’s friend Marc Antony, who ruled in the east; Caesar’s great-nephew and heir, Gaius Octavius, who ruled in the west; and one of Caesar’s lieutenants, Marcus Aemilius Lepidus, who ruled in Africa. As with the First Triumvirate, each one of these leaders had his own personal agenda, and each wanted absolute authority.

  The only deed they accomplished together was punishing the conspirators in Caesar’s assassination. After that, it was every man for himself. Octavius seized power from Lepidus in Africa, and he took over total control of the Italian homeland, which the three had originally ruled together. He then set his sights on Antony and produced a document that was allegedly Antony’s will and read it aloud before the Senate. The will bequeathed all of Rome’s interests in the east to Cleopatra. The enraged Senate gave Octavius permission to revoke Antony’s power and wage war on Cleopatra. Octavius crushed the infamous duo, after which the two lovers reportedly committed suicide. The Battle of Actium finally put an end to the constant civil wars that beleaguered Rome. Unfortunately, it also put an end to the Republic. For the next 500 years, Rome would be ruled by one supreme authority, known as “the Caesar.”

  What Gaius Julius Caesar’s assassins failed to realize was that the power of Rome lay in her army. Control the army, and you control Rome. Numerous great generals who rose up through the ranks, many of them not even Italians, were able to become emperor of Rome just because they had an army behind them.

  When Julius Caesar died, he was at the peak of his popularity with both the army and the people of Rome. But, as modern-day polls have shown, popularity waxes and wanes. Today’s star is tomorrow’s has-been. Before his murder, Caesar’s health was already failing him. Eventually, his funds would have run low. And, it is likely that the people’s esteem for him would have run out when he failed to solve all the problems his predecessors had wrestled with. From this position, the Senate could have then undermined their dictator’s authority and regained control of the army. With the Senate as the head of government, Rome might have avoided the rise of despotism altogether, and the names of insane radicals such as Caligula and Nero would have faded into oblivion.

  14

  GOTTA KNOW THE TERRITORY

  Varus’ Lost Legions

  9 CE

  The worst loss of Roman legions in the history of the empire came about because just one man had poor judgment. That man was Quinctilius Varus. In 9 CE, the Roman empire was still expanding. Julius Caesar had conquered Gaul up the Rhine, and other Roman commanders had later expanded the conquest under Augustus until they nominally controlled much of today’s Germany. Yes, at the high point of Roman expansion the empire did rule Germany . . . just not for long.

  Quinctilius Varus had been a very competent governor of Syria. He had even led some small, but very successful, military actions there. Mostly, he was an administrator. Governors in the Roman empire were expected to enrich themselves with a piece of the tax revenue along with delivering large amounts of gold and silver to Caesar Augustus in Rome. Most of the ways they did this would get you arrested today, and Varus had proven he was very good at squeezing taxes out of the rich merchants and large estates of Syria. His reward for success, when his term as governor ended, was to be given another province to govern. Unfortunately for Rome, this one was Germany.

  The basis of the mistake that cost Rome their legions was really the differences between the two provinces. Syria was a settled, highly civilized, and wealthy province. Germany was none of those things. Where
Syria had great cities, some a thousand years old already, the German tribes were mostly seminomadic. Even their villages tended to be temporary. While Syria had been ruled by distant empires for most of its 2,000 years, the German tribes were fiercely independent and resented the new intrusion of Roman rule. Finally, Syria was a land with plenty of gold and silver, whereas Germany was metal poor and wealth was often measured in cattle, not coins.

  The basic mistake that Quinctilius Varus made was to take the way he had successfully governed in Syria and try to apply it to the very different German province. Soon he was pressing very proud and independent German chiefs to send him taxes they did not have the coinage to pay. Augustus really didn’t have an interest in Varus sending him his cut of swine and cattle—a mistake, but one that could be corrected. Varus’ real error was not to realize how badly he was governing and what the reaction to that would inevitably be. To give the governor some excuse, he was encouraged to think all was well by a German noble, named Arminius, who worked in Varus’ provincial court. Arminius had been trained by the Roman army and commanded auxiliaries so well that he was even made a member of the Equestrian order: a Roman noble. In reality, Arminius hated Roman rule, and while making every effort to show Varus how popular a governor he was, the German commander was organizing a revolt.

  The Roman governors of Germany tended to spend their summers in the center of the province near the Weser River and in the fall move to a more civilized location on the Rhine for the cold months. It was in the fall of 9 CE, and the oblivious Varus and his three veteran legions prepared to make their march back to the Rhine camp. Just before they started, Arminius suggested to Varus that they change their route so they could march through a few areas that had been threatening revolt or were refusing to pay taxes. Varus agreed, and the column of 15,000 legionnaires and perhaps 10,000 followers set out on the last-minute route.