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general were equalled, or almost equalled, by the more delicate but no less harassing labours of Cæsar the diplomatist. Friendly Gauls had to be humoured and kept faithful; waverers had to be constantly and secretly watched; negotiation and intrigue were needed in all directions. The whole thing was quite unlike our English wars of conquest, not merely because these have been waged against races totally different from ourselves, but because the conduct of the war and the causes of success were equally different. The nearest parallel may perhaps be found in the work of Warren Hastings; the sharpest contrast is afforded by the Indian Mutiny. In the Mutiny we owed our success to individual prowess--the nerve which cowed incipient disaffection, the tenacity which kept the flag flying over an isolated post, the devoted courage which stormed against any odds. Cæsar had round him stout-hearted and tenacious and daring men, and they had their share in giving him his victory. But in the end that victory was due to other and perhaps more noteworthy causes.
First, indeed, there is Cæsar himself, a hard character to describe. Wrapt as he is in the cloud of modern panegyric, the features of the man can with difficulty be discovered. A profound intellect, liberal alike in its conceptions and its sympathies; a cool, rapid judgement, wholly free from sentiment, and singularly capable of seeing facts as they were ; an immense power of work; a determination which recoiled from no act logically demanded by the scheme in hand; a heart wide open to friends and magnanimous even to foes when once they had submitted; a keen sensibility to the charms of art and literature when no graver interests were at stake—such were among the characteristics of this great Italian. Add that he was a general whom good judges have placed only a little way behind Hannibal and Alexander, and we shall not perhaps, if we are wise, call him'a perfect man,' nor the greatest man of action that
ever lived, but we shall understand his fitness to do all that Cæsar did.
As a general he was, in the first place, a strategist of a very high order. He had the eye of a military genius for the vulnerable point in his enemy's plans, and he knew how to strike at it straight and rapidly. His mobility in particular was extraordinary. His first journey from Rome to Gaul was made at the rate of ninety miles a day; his second campaign opened with bis wholly unexpected arrival among the Belga, before their preparations were complete.
Over and over again his speed enabled him to succour a hard-pressed outpost or detached force, or brought him first to the field of battle, or gave a terrible effectiveness to his pursuit of a routed enemy. Statistics of marches do not prove much, for the conditions of weather and soil and gradient vary widely; but Cæsar speaks of forty-six miles in twenty-four hours as no extraordinary achievement for heavy infantry. His movements were facilitated, no doubt, by the fertility of Gaul and the friendship of a portion of its inhabitants. Provisions could be stored easily in suitable spots, or even procured on the march. Yet, even allowing for all this, we cannot but admire the ease and rapidity with which he was able to march wherever he desired.
But other commanders have known where to strike and strike swiftly. Cæsar's generalship had one feature peculiar to himself-his use of the spade. The Roman legionary and his entrenching tools were at all periods inseparable companions; but we know of no commander, before or after Cæsar, who employed those tools so fully and freely as he did. Not only did he fortify himself on almost every battlefield: he was even able by his earthworks to affect the strategy of entire campaigns. By a series of entrenchments covering a distance of nearly twenty miles, he changed the whole direction of the Helvetian invasion. By even larger circumvallations he caught Vercingetorix at Alesia, and a mound and a ditch destroyed the last and fiercest resistance of the Gauls against the Romans. It was not mere accident that he did this. Even the severe reserve of his narrative betrays his engineering interest. He is careful to describe his earthworks fully, giving dimensions and other details. He goes out of his way to explain the precise method by which the Gauls, or some of them, constructed their fortress ramparts, and the remains of eleven Gallic fortresses in Central France testify to his accuracy. The same spirit is apparent in that curious specification of his bridge across the Rhine, which most of us have probably groaned over at some period of our Latin studies. This was obviously written with a sincere belief in the usefulness of such works: it is not merely a boast over a tour de force.
His army at the commencement of the Gallic War comprised four legions—that is, some twenty thousand heavy infantry, and a few archers, slingers, and other light troops. This scanty and inadequate force was speedily and steadily increased. By the close of the war Cæsar commanded ten
or eleven legions. The new legions were not raised in Gaul, but elsewhere in Cæsar's province, in North Italy, which was then, and for a century later, the finest recruitingground in the Roman dominions, and was all the more suitable to Cæsar's purpose because of certain legal requirements concerning the birth and status of legionaries. One body of infantry—the Alaude-was, indeed, raised in Gaul and organised as a legion, but it did not obtain legionary rank or title till long after the end of the war. legions came, as we have said, from Northern Italy. But the addition of six legions did not mean necessarily the addition of as much as thirty thousand men to Cæsar's forces. Cæsar seems to have followed a somewhat peculiar plan in dealing with recruits. When a legion had fallen below its proper strength through illness and fighting, he did not always fill it up with raw recruits. He raised new legions for his recruits ; he kept the old legions apart, so that they consisted wholly or almost wholly of veterans. That is to say, he held a weak veteran legion better than a full legion of recruits and veterans mixed. And for his own age he was right. For at that time the veteran counted for everything in warfare, and the recruit for nothing, in a way to which military history provides no proper parallel. The superiority of the veteran can be seen in almost every engagement throughout the Gallic and the succeeding Civil Wars. It explains, for instance, why at the outset of the Civil War in B.C. 49 Cæsar dared to rush into Italy with only a slender force. His troops were trained soldiers; the Pompeian troops opposed to him, though far more numerous, were untrained levies, and his reckless-looking enterprise was far less dangerous than it looks.
Heavy infantry was the bulk of Cæsar's army, as of all ancient armies. But it was not only the heavy infantry which was strengthened during the war. To the light troops were added large levies of friendly Gallic cavalry. It would be interesting if we could learn more about these horsemen. From allusions in the Commentaries ' it is plain that they numbered some thousands, and Cicero, in calculating Cæsar's strength at the end of the Gallic War, observes that he had as much cavalry as he chose.' This occurrence of a strong body of cavalry is noteworthy, Horsemen were little used in ancient Greek and Roman warfare until after 300 A.D. Hannibal employed them with effect; Alexander may be counted among the finest cavalry officers of all time; but the ordinary general
confined himself to heavy infantry. Now there are faint signs that Cæsar tried to make more of the cavalry arm : it was indeed singularly useful to him, with his frequent rapid moves across wide stretches of country. The attempt unfortunately failed, and perhaps the battle of Pharsalia is to blame. In that battle, the battle which decided the civil war between Cæsar and Pompey, the turning-point was the rout of the Pompeian cavalry by a body of Cæsar's infantry. More significance was perhaps attached to the incident than it deserved; but for three centuries no Roman general ventured to confront infantry with cavalry.
Cæsar was not only a great general at the head of a great army: he not only won victories, but he used them with a pitiless logical thoroughness which he has been at no pains to disguise. No one ever inquired in the Gallic War whether loyalty to Cæsar' paid. Those who submitted to him and took his side he treated with kindness, even with generosity; he rewarded them and protected them. But when he had to stamp out opposition his kindness and generosity disappeared. The Aduatuci broke out in the middle of an incomplete surrender : the whole of them, fifty-three thousand, were sold into slavery. The Veneti laid hands on some Roman commissioners, and, when Cæsar came to punish them, made a singularly gallant defence: they, too, were sold wholesale into slavery. The Usipetes and Tencteri came across the Rhine into Gaul contrary to his wishes: their chiefs were seized at a peaceful interview, and their host was practically annihilated. The Eburones defeated one of his generals: he drove them into their forests and marshes, and invited the neighbouring tribes to come and destroy them, root and branch : every man, woman, and child who escaped the sword was to perish by hunger. Avaricum was stormed after a long siege and desperate defence: forty thousand Gauls, every living being within it, were at once massacred. The hill-fort of Uxellodunum held out stubbornly through the final campaign of the war. When the garrison at last surrendered, their hands were cut off and they were dismissed to exist as best they might-a living monument of the wrath of Cæsar. In many of these cases, Cæsar had some technical justification of broken truce or rebellion after surrender, but it is plain enough that these technical justifications were not his real motives. He meant to break down opposition and he did it. He would have accepted Virgil's summary of a Roman's duty, ‘Parcere subjectis et debellare * superbos,' and he would have given to debellare its sternest
and most terrible sense. We need not call him brutal or bloodthirsty. He did not kill for the sake of killing. When he desired he could be humane enough, as he proved to his beaten countrymen after the end of the Civil War. But he plainly reckoned a Roman life more valuable than that of à Gaul, and when the Gaul opposed him he crushed the resistance with a cold thoroughness which is far more dreadful than the mere ferocity of a wanton, niurder-loving barbarian,
The Gauls themselves were in no fit condition to face such a man. We may, indeed, put aside as an idle fancy the assertion that by Cæsar's time they had degenerated from their pristine vigour. We do not know so much about this alleged pristine vigour' that we can argue in detail concerning it, but it is certain that Cæsar did not regard his foes as décadents. Their armies, doubtless, lacked the cohesion, the discipline, and the weapons of the legionary, but they were numerous, brave, and often skilfully led. Their fatal defect was not want of vigour but of political unity. Canton was jealous of canton, chieftain of chieftain ; they rarely combined, and still more rarely held together. Singuli pugnant, universi vincuntur:' they fight singly, and the whole of them are conquered,' says Tacitus of the British Celts at a later date. The observation is true of most savage races: it is singularly true of the Celts in Gaul whom Cæsar conquered. The Gauls were not even agreed in resisting Cæsar. The Ædui and other dwellers in central France were friendly to him, and actually assisted him with men and supplies. The one common bond which historians have found for them is that supplied by the Druids. Many things have been imagined about this mysterious order of priests, but one fact seems clear. At no period in the Gallic War do they exercise any political influence. They do not, as a national priesthood might, exhort their countrymen to combine against the common foe, nor do they come forward as the preachers of submission. They do not appear at all. Accident has preserved us the names of one or two, for instance Divitiacus, or, as he ought perhaps to be called, Diviciacus, and from these few instances we see that a Druid might be a man of high rank and political standing. But he did not politically act as a Druid. Whatever kind of priesthood the Druids represent, they counted for nothing, as Druids, in the death-struggle of their country.
The war itself falls into the two usual parts---first, four or five years of continuous conquest, then three of