Читать книгу The Germans: Double History Of A Nation - Emil Grimm Ludwig - Страница 10

FROM the wide plains a hill rises in the morning sun. Two mounted squadrons approach it from opposite sides at the same time. Their aspect is very different, one from the other.

Military cloaks, fastened by clasps over leather armor and armless tunics, flutter from the shoulders of one group of horsemen. Strands of long dark hair stray from beneath the bronze helmets fitted with rigid sidepieces. Broad swords of fair length hang from the men’s sides and small bucklers are fastened on their backs but they grip their lances in their right hands, together with the reins. The horsemen of the other group have animal pelts fastened about their bodies, with stag or bison skins drawn over their heads. But beneath these skins long golden-yellow hair, often curly, escapes, seeming to take the place of helmets. The swords of these men are longer and narrower, and many carry a curved dagger besides. Their lances are long and better suited to thrusting than throwing.

Before each of these hosts rides its leader, dressed in fashion similar to his men, but richer and more colorful. Both are preceded by mounted heralds bearing insignia—the one an artful eagle-shield of bronze with the four large letters SPQR, the other a crudely painted image of an animal, probably a bull’s head. A few hundred paces from the hill they halt; a messenger rides over; commands ring out in two different languages. At last the commanders disengage themselves from their troops, each taking along but ten men. Soon they meet on the crest of the hill, the leaders saluting each other without dismounting.

They are Caesar, the Roman, and Ariovistus, the Teuton. The scene is close to the river of destiny, a bare mile west of the Rhine, in Gaul, about where Mulhouse lies today. It is the year 58 B.C. For two thousand years to come wars and battles will follow on each other’s heels here in Alsace. But on this particular day a peaceful settlement is still being sought.

The two men, both between forty and fifty, had heard a great deal about each other. Both were in a strange country. Caesar, the Roman Proconsul, had only just come to Gaul, seeking an agreement with a conqueror who had preceded him and might be disposed to share the spoils. Ariovistus had made the westward crossing of the Rhine from the Elbe and the Oder on the pretext of aiding a distressed Gallic tribe; had then subjugated the supposedly liberated tribe, and later concluded treaties with faraway Rome. The Roman Senate had been eager to win over the unknown barbarian in the North with titles and presents, for the marauding Teutonic tribes had long spread fear and terror in Rome. But now that Caesar had come to Gaul in the name of the world power, he could not close his ears to the complaints of the displaced Aedui against the conquering Teutons.

What the two men said on that hill that morning has been accurately recorded by Caesar:—

“Remember, Ariovistus,” Caesar began, “all the favors you have received from me and from the Senate. We have recognized you as King, and admitted you to the rare honor of an official friend of the Roman people. Know, however, that the Aedui too are old allies of the Romans. Wage not war against the Aedui nor against their allies, but return to them their hostages, and if you cannot persuade your Teutons to retire beyond the Rhine, see to it at least that no more of them enter Gaul.”*

Sitting astride his horse, Ariovistus responded to the Roman’s condescending speech with an agitation that had evidently been well prepared, for Caesar says that he spoke “little about these demands but much about his own virtues,” as follows:—

“Not from my own impulse have I crossed the Rhine; it was the Gauls who implored me for aid! For their sake have I left my home and my clan! It was not I who began to wage war against the Gauls, but they against me! They cannot refuse me the tribute they have heretofore paid me of their own free will! All honor to the friendship of the Roman people—but if such friendship cost me my rights, then I must renounce it! True, I have led many Teutons to Gaul, but without the least purpose of disturbing the country, since it was not I who attacked them—I merely defended myself! In short, if you will, therefore, leave me in undisputed possession of my rights, I shall at my own expense help you to win all the wars that you may propose. If, on the other hand, you remain here on my own land, I shall henceforth regard you as my enemy! Then, when I have vanquished and killed you in battle, many powerful and highly-placed Romans will rejoice—they have so confided to me through special couriers and have offered me their friendship after Caesar’s death. Now you know it, Caesar, and now choose!”

As soon as Caesar begins to answer, an officer reports to him that enemy horsemen are approaching and hurling stones and arrows into the Roman legions. Caesar breaks off and rides back. But when the Teuton’s speech spreads through the camp, the Roman soldiers grow angry. Two days later Ariovistus proposes another meeting, adding menacingly to his requests for peace that he has irrevocably set this as the last day for reaching an agreement. Caesar sends two younger officers, one of whom once enjoyed Ariovistus’ hospitality. They barely arrive when they are taken and put in irons as spies.

Caesar prepares for battle, and the Teuton is disastrously beaten. According to Plutarch, 80,000 Teutons are supposed to have perished. To save himself, Ariovistus allowed his two wives and his sister to fall into enemy hands. He himself escaped across the Rhine in a boat and literally disappeared into obscurity. No one knows how the Teuton leader, who for twenty years had enjoyed the greatest fame among his people, ended his days.

This first document to show us a Teuton leader in speech and in action contains all the elements characterizing the type—protestations of innocence, threats, tactlessness and treachery. Caesar too spoke as a diplomat and turned things to his own account; but he dealt straightforwardly, offering terms not stones. By way of contrast, what did the Teuton say? Out of pure kindness, to help the weak, had he made the sacrifice of invading Gaul; he had mobilized only to keep from being encircled by his evil neighbors; foreign lands had been voluntarily ceded to him, but, on the other hand, his were the rights of a conqueror. Were he to kill Caesar, the most powerful Romans would be grateful to him—indeed, they had expressly requested him, the so-called barbarian, to do so. And during his speech he had his army move up, for it was he who had given orders to shoot. When the bluff did not work he grew conciliatory, but when the intermediaries arrived, he had them put in chains.

Done in the year 58 B.C. . . . Tomorrow it will be exactly two thousand years ago. Nothing has changed since then.

* Caesar: Bellum Gallicum, Book 1, Chapter 43.