The Sword of Rome

by Jeremiah McCall

  In the end, though, however much of a role Scipio did play in ending the Gallic war, Marcellus wholly eclipsed his colleague, as the only one of the pair to earn extraordinary recognition for the achievement. When a Roman commander achieved a particularly grand military victory, the Roman assembly might award him a triumph. The triumph was a military parade in which the commander and his troops processed through the streets of Rome together with the spoils and captured soldiers of the enemy while the Roman populace watched and cheered. It was a sacred ceremony designed to highlight Roman military might and humiliate Roman enemies at the same time.59 Marcellus was awarded a triumph for victory over the Gauls and for his slaying of Virdumarus; there was no such honour for Scipio.

  Not content with this rare and grand military honour, however, Marcellus claimed that because the enemy he had slain and despoiled in single combat was the king and commander of the enemy army, his armour qualified as the rarest of all battle spoils, the so-called spolia opima. As a reward, Marcellus claimed the right to dedicate the spoils to Jupiter Feretrius, depositing them in the god’s temple on the Capitoline Hill. That this claim was affirmed is shown in the official entry on the lists of triumphs, at least as they were restored by Augustus at the very end of the first century BC. Furthermore, Marcellus incorporated the spectacle of dedicating the spoils into the triumph he earned for his victory at Clastidium.

  This deed was critical to Marcellus’ reputation in life and in legend after his death.60 In all of Roman history, only three figures were identified as commanders who had killed enemy leaders in battle and won these legendary spoils. The first was Romulus himself, the founder of Rome and the stuff of legend. The second was Aulus Cornelius Cossus, a fifth century commander, and hardly easier to substantiate than Romulus. Marcellus was for all practical purposes the only firmly historical example of a commander who had won these spoils, and it is likely that he was the historical inventor of the spolia opima as a special honour, a tradition that became firmly rooted in the psyche of the Roman political class. Whatever the impact of his deed on contemporary Romans, it evoked commentary in history, poetry, and epic for centuries to come. Indeed, within twenty years of the victory, the playwright Naevius crafted a play, Clastidium. It exists only in a few fragments today but was held at Rome and celebrated the grand achievements of the consul that day – it may have been the first example of a play at Rome celebrating the deeds of a contemporary Roman figure.61 One of Marcellus’ descendants, also named Marcus Claudius Marcellus, over 150 years later sought to capitalize on his family’s grandeur by commemorating the dedication of the spoils on a coin series minted at Rome. The great epic poet of Rome, Virgil, even rendered the deed in verse when he composed the Aeneid at the beginning of the Empire.62

  Given the great emphasis Virgil and other writers in the age of Augustus placed upon the tradition of Marcellus as the third and final recipient of the spolia opima, however, it is all too easy to assume anachronistically that the magnitude of his achievement was equally recognized and accepted in 222. This is highly unlikely. Not only did the others who had reputedly claimed these spoils live centuries before Marcellus, the historical records for these earlier victories were suspect at best, if any even existed beyond the tales handed down over the centuries. It is worth considering the possibility that very few Romans were even aware such an honour existed. In this light, when Marcellus claimed the right to be compared to the likes of Romulus and Cossus, he had either revived this tradition of the spolia opima or invented it as a special honour that had the patina of antiquity. Either way, the tradition that only three Romans ever won the spolia opima – the last Marcellus – became firmly rooted in the stories of the Roman political class. Marcellus seems to have had a penchant for reviving traditions such as the spolia opima at times and in ways that allowed him to earn rewards above and beyond those normally accessible to a Roman general, even beyond the rare distinction of a triumph. For, even if few had heard of the honour previously, Marcellus made sure his celebration clarified for all what the victory meant and how it advertised his valour.

  Plutarch’s claim that Marcellus’ triumph was ‘seldom equaled in its splendor and wealth and spoils and captives of gigantic size’63 can be safely rejected as a common tendency by later writers to over-aggrandize the victory celebrations of Romans from the middle Republic. The spoils from the relatively poor Mediolanum can hardly have matched the riches displayed in later triumphs over Syracuse, Carthage, Macedonia, Pontus, Asia Minor, and Egypt, just to name a few places Romans would conquer. As for the size of the captives, the Romans had been fighting Gauls for centuries and would continue to do so for almost two centuries more; they were well-accustomed to their greater stature. Surely, though, Plutarch is correct in noting that Marcellus’ triumph stood out from all others because it incorporated the dedication of the spolia opima:

  The most agreeable and the rarest spectacle of all was afforded when Marcellus himself carried to the god the armour of the barbarian king. He had cut the trunk of a slender oak, straight and tall, and fashioned it into the shape of a trophy; on this he bound and fastened the spoils, arranging and adjusting each piece in due order. When the procession began to move, he took the trophy himself and mounted the chariot, and thus a trophy-bearing figure more conspicuous and beautiful than any in his day passed in triumph through the city. The army followed, arrayed in the most beautiful armour, singing odes composed for the occasion, together with paeans of victory in praise of the god and their general. Thus advancing and entering the temple of Jupiter Feretrius, he set up and consecrated his offering.64

  The triumph was a grand and rare honour, but the spolia opima essentially unique. Marcellus was making a claim to honours that simply could not be matched by his peers in the aristocracy; indeed, never again was the spolia opima claimed in the Republic.65 In a group characterized by intense competitions for glory and the honours and offices that came with glory, this was a bold move by a member of a family that, while not insignificant, certainly did not rank among the most distinguished aristocratic clans. That he did so while his colleague received no distinction made the move that much bolder. This was the nature of political competition in the middle Republic. Those contending for the highest offices and honours at Rome tended to view politics as something of a zero-sum game, where many could be important but only a few could be truly outstanding.

  Perhaps there were aristocrats that were not avidly concerned with expanding their prestige and influence, but Marcellus was certainly not one of those. The triumph and the claim to the spolia opima already put Marcellus in a unique position of honour among his contemporaries. It also helped Marcellus associate himself firmly with the cavalry and its traditions of honour in battle. As noted already, though, this claim had already been staked by Fabius. Why would Marcellus dedicate a victory temple to a god that already had a temple established by a very powerful and prestigious former consul from one of the oldest and most distinguished patrician families at Rome? Fabius’ temple to Honos had been dedicated only eleven years before Clastidium, when Marcellus was in his mid-thirties; he can hardly have been unaware. No firm answer can be given, but it is difficult not to conclude that in dedicating a temple to Honos, Marcellus purposefully attempted to enhance his own reputation as a cavalry commander and warrior at the expense of Fabius. Certainly, the other unique element of his victory had been emphasized to his own benefit. It would be strange, therefore, to think that Marcellus naively chose these particular gods with their particularly advantageous symbolism.

  Fabius need not, perhaps, have taken this dedication as an overtly hostile move by Marcellus, but it is hardly likely that he was pleased by the encroachment. At the least, it likely seemed brash to Fabius that a late-to-the-game consul from a less distinguished family would attempt to win honour from an association cultivated by one of the oldest families of the Republic. And while it cannot be decisively proven that Fabius pushed back, there is good reason, as we will see later
, to suspect that he countered Marcellus by blocking his efforts to build the temple and possibly in other ways too.

  There was a time when modern historians of Rome imposed structure and meaning on the fragmentary evidence for the middle Republic by using a model of factional politics. According to this model, relatively stable and long-term political blocs formed around politicians from the most powerful families. These faction leaders could, in various accounts, secure elections for their supporters, dictate the political stances of their subordinates, and control Roman politics in various ways. The key to identifying these blocs, proponents of the factional model asserted, was to look for patterns in office holding, especially trends where members of two families held the same offices in the same years. Marriages and other shreds of evidence about political allegiances were taken as evidence of deeper ties between families. While this interpretation of Roman politics was simplistic to a certain extent – there is little evidence, for example, that Roman aristocrats tended to form long-term, lasting alliances, and certainly not parties – it appealed because it offered the hope of constructing a clearer and deeper understanding of political behaviour from scanty evidence.66

  The factional model of politics, however, led to a number of tendentious assumptions. Not least of these was the assertion once commonly made that Marcellus was a political client of Fabius Maximus. This meant Marcellus followed the lead of his patron and largely subordinated his political interests to those of Fabius. What the dedication of the temple to Honos and Virtus and the associated claims to ties with the cavalry make clear is that not only is that particular understanding of Marcellus’ behaviour and politics in the period in general simplistic, so is any understanding that places politicians in simple camps without sufficient evidence. The relationship between Marcellus and Fabius, as it was for most politicians, was complicated. It is worth noting again: it is simply incredible that Marcellus was unaware that his dedication impinged upon a traditional prerogative of the Fabii, and it is equally incredible that Fabius accepted such an encroachment without fighting back: the arena of political competition was far too important to these aristocrats for such behaviour. But Marcellus must have felt it was worth the risk. It was his time to shine. How could he know that Rome would soon be locked in a life-and-death struggle against the Carthaginians and he and Fabius would be called upon to share positions of power?

  Chapter 2

  Hannibal and Campania

  The First and Second Punic Wars, so-called from the Roman name for the Phoenician-descended Carthaginians, were decisive episodes in the growth of the Roman empire. By the time Rome had come to dominate central and southern Italy, the city-state of Carthage had created a maritime empire centred on its home city, in what is now Tunisia, and extending to Sicily and Sardinia. The island of Sicily occupied a critical strategic position in conflicts between the Romans and Carthaginians, the western tip of the island perhaps 150 miles away from the port of Carthage and the eastern tip within sight of the Italian peninsula. Controlling key ports on the island meant controlling travel and trade in the central Mediterranean – something desired both by Carthage and by the Greek polises scattered across the Mediterranean. This made Sicily a prized target for the naval and commercial empire of the Carthaginians and a site of settlement for Greeks in the eighth through sixth centuries. Major conflicts broke out between Carthage and the island polises beginning in the sixth century. The Greek polises of Sicily had some significant success in blunting Carthaginian advances in Sicily for centuries. By the late fourth century, however, the power of Carthage had waxed and that of the Sicilian polises waned to the point where Carthage had established firm control over the west and south of the island.1 On the south-east side of the island, the city of Syracuse, founded by the Greek polis of Corinth in the eighth century, dominated.

  Eventually, the Romans, who steadily expanded control over southern Italy in the fourth and third centuries, came to have an interest in eastern Sicily, and the first war between Rome and Carthage, from 264 to 241, was fought largely over control of the island. This war marked the first significant time, so far as we know, that Roman armies had operated outside Italy, and they did so ostensibly at the invitation of the Mamertines. This group of Italian mercenaries had brutally occupied the Sicilian city of Messana and controlled it for the past twenty years. Now they found themselves hard pressed in a war with King Hiero and the forces of Syracuse. The Mamertines sought aid from both of the greatest powers of the region, Carthage and Rome. Conflicts of interest soon erupted and the two powers had maneuvered into a great war.2 The majority of the war took place in and off the waters of Sicily as the Romans fought the Syracusans, the Carthaginians, and a variety of Greek city states on the island. King Hiero of Syracuse, an astute diplomat, quickly shifted from his initial alliance with the Carthaginians to the Romans when faced with the prospect of battling two consular armies. From then on, the Romans directed their energies against the Carthaginian forces. Though the Romans did launch a brief campaign against Carthage itself, landing an invasion force in Tunisia, they were ultimately unsuccessful in this effort, and the war shifted back to Sicily for another fifteen years or so. Finally, after more than twenty years of conflict, the Carthaginian land forces in Sicily, commanded by Hannibal’s father, Hamilcar Barca, were ultimately forced to surrender when the Carthaginian fleet was destroyed at the naval battle off the Aegates islands and Hamilcar’s supply lines were severed. Among the other terms of this surrender, Carthage was forced to remove all its forces from Sicily, yield the island, and pay a considerable sum of reparations to the Romans.3 Eventually, perhaps by 227, it became regular practice for a Roman praetor to govern western and northern Sicily; eastern Sicily was essentially under the administration of Hiero of Syracuse, who had become a trusted ally of the Romans. In addition to the strategic importance of the island, Sicily also seems to have provided Romans with grain from its fields, so important for feeding the Roman army and the growing population of the city.4

  The First Punic war had not settled matters between the Romans and Carthaginians. Carthage had lost control of Sicily, Sardinia, and Corsica to the Romans but subsequently acquired an empire in the Iberian Peninsula. Hamilcar, the father of Hannibal and the commander who conducted the final surrender in Sicily, spearheaded the Carthaginian efforts in Spain. When he died in 226, control of Carthaginian operations in Spain passed to his son-in-law, Hasdrubal. Finally, in 221, Hannibal took the reins of command. Later Romans for whom Hannibal was the ultimate terror – an excellent bogeyman to frighten recalcitrant children – had no doubt that the Carthaginian had dreamed of avenging his humiliated father since childhood. Livy states that the boy swore an oath to his father to do so as soon as he was able.5 Whether this was true – and it certainly seems possible that the father hoped his son would avenge his defeat – it is only reasonable to suppose Hannibal hoped to exact some measure of vengeance from Rome.6

  The technicalities that started the war are a bit complicated and not completely understood. Suffice to say, when Hasdrubal had succeeded Hamilcar, the Romans sent envoys to make a treaty with the Carthaginian. This designated the River Ebro as the northernmost limit to Carthaginian expansion in Spain. It may well have been understood that the Romans would, in turn, not attempt to influence Spain south of that border. If this was the understanding, however, it is difficult to reconcile with the fact that the Republic had already forged an alliance with the city of Saguntum, south of the Ebro, several years prior to 226. Regardless of who had the more easily justified view of the conflict, Hannibal took advantage of an opportunity to provoke the Romans by besieging the city of Saguntum. The Saguntines, in turn, sent messengers to their Roman allies asking for aid against the Carthaginian army. When the request for assistance reached the city, the senate apparently debated the matter for some time. Small wonder; any effort to stop Hannibal’s attack might well lead to another war, one that would be costly and require the Romans to send soldiers to Spain,
farther away than they ever had before. Rather than jump immediately into a major war, the senate decided to deliver an ultimatum to Carthage first.7

  Hannibal, however, seemed to have been planning an invasion of Italy already, for he finished besieging Saguntum, sent emissaries to the Gauls, and began his long trek from Spain to Italy, apparently without any news that an ultimatum had been delivered to Carthage. This should cause no surprise, however, considering how slowly messages traveled in the age of sail, horse, and foot. His army marched along the coast of Spain and France, eventually reaching the River Rhone by September of 218. In the meantime, the Romans prepared to send an army to Spain, only to find, much to their surprise, that Hannibal was no longer there. The consul Publius Scipio had harboured his army at the mouth of the Rhone at the same time Hannibal’s force was farther up the same river. Roman cavalry engaged the Carthaginian cavalry successfully, but Hannibal was able to move on. At this point, Publius Scipio opted to send his brother and military legate Gnaeus ahead to Spain with the legions, while he returned to northern Italy to prepare a defence against Hannibal.8

  What was Hannibal’s plan? His strategy has been analyzed by historians as best as can be, considering he left no writings and no eyewitness accounts of his actions. Certainly, he would have anticipated the Roman invasion of Spain should war break out. He could have opted to prepare to meet the Romans in Spain. As some historians have noted, however, the Romans had proven capable of sustaining and replacing staggering military losses in their first war against Carthage over Sicily. No doubt, Hannibal was fully aware of this. Based on what he did do, it seems his goal was different: to shatter the core of Roman political and military power. That core was the Roman alliance system.9