When the Gaulish peoples are mentioned, we
think of naked warriors, mysterious druids, and a defeated warlord, knelt before the Roman
Eagle. From their prehistoric origins to their final doomed struggle against Rome, the ancient
Celts developed a reputation as proud warriors capable of savagery and bravery in equal measure.
In this special documentary on the Gallic peoples, we will tell the sweeping story of
the rise and fall of the robust iron age culture which once dominated nearly all of continental
Europe. These long episodes are incredibly difficult to make, so consider liking, commenting
and sharing to support our work! Or, support us via heading into battle. We’ve
got a fight where you won’t hear the screeching and roaring of a celtic battle cry, but the
growls and booms of war machines in the modern age, because this video is sponsored by War
Thunder. It’s the most comprehensive vehicle combat
game ever made, where you take military vehicles from the nineteen twenties to today into intense
PvP combat. And we don’t just mean ground vehicles - one of the cool things about this
game is that planes and ships are also available to support the battle, and the way these different
playstyles and weapons interact in the matches is that makes the whole thing more intense,
and indeed more realistic. They’ve got over two thousand vehicles,
modeled down to their individual components with dedicated accuracy. But then you can
also go through in-depth customisation to make a vehicle your own. Join the fight now on PC, PS5 or Xbox Series
X & S, or on older generation consoles, but make sure to do it via our link below to get
a large free bonus pack that unlocks premium vehicles, boosters, discounts, and more, so
no use missing out on that. Hit the link in the description. For the most part, the ancient Celts left
virtually no written records of their own existence, so we are reliant almost solely
on limited archaeological and etymological evidence to piece together their culture,
while in the centuries leading up to the birth of Christ, a scattering of Greek and Romans
writings give us a slightly more dynamic window into their society. Neither offers a complete
survey of the Celtic world, but they provide us with a workable set of information that,
in lieu of anything else, we have no choice but to rely on.
The most popular narrative of the Celtic genesis can be found in the town of Hallstatt, which
sits nestled against a lake between the idyllic peaks of the Alps. It was here, between the
years of 1846 and 1863, that an Austrian mine operator known as Johann Georg Ramsauer excavated
the derelict cemetery of an ancient salt-mining community. The material culture discovered
here was named the Hallstatt Culture, after the town, it was discovered in, and is widely
considered to be the birthplace of early Celtic society.
The Hallstatt culture has since been broken up into four chronological phases, based on
the evolution of artifacts found in its sites. Hallstatt-A and B emerged in the late Bronze
age between 1200-800BC in Central Europe. It was initially a minor deviation of the
Indo-European Urnfield Complex, an older material culture prominent across much of central Europe.
Hallstatt society was based on mining salt, copper, and tin, and trading them to outlying
regions. These were crucial products, for salt was used to preserve meat in winters,
while copper and tin were used to forge Bronze, the most precious metal of the era. The peoples
of the Hallstatt heartland grew prosperous from this trade, which remained a core part
of their economy for centuries to come. Around 800 BC, ironworking was introduced
to the Hallstatt through trade with the Hittites and Greeks. This started the Hallstatt-C era,
where the proto-Celts came into their own as a culture distinct from the Urnfield complex.
They built hillforts throughout central Europe, populating them with artisans and warriors,
led by petty Chieftains. It was at this point in the early iron age
that they started developing a class system and social inequality, becoming more hierarchical.
Graves excavated from the Hallstatt A and B eras were uniformly simple and egalitarian
in nature, however, burials from Hallstatt C onwards show a great disparity in wealth
and status. Clustered around their hillforts were great barrow mounds, the resting place
of wealthy tribal elites. Here, nobles were buried alongside their treasures such as collars,
brooches, axeheads, and other metalworks of bronze, iron and gold. These valuables oft
featured iconic geometric designs and animalistic motifs. The presence of ivory and amber in
these barrows suggests that they maintained trade networks that extended as far out as
the Baltics and North Africa. Equestrianism was likely a symbol of power
and nobility during this era, evidenced by the presence of a distinct style of slender
slashing sword present in many graves, best suited for cavalry warfare. Additionally,
the highest tribal elites were buried alongside ceremonial bridles, tackles, and ornate horse-drawn
cult wagons. The importance of the horse in aristocratic society was likely due to contact
with the Indo-Iranian Cimmerians, from whom they adapted the horse and wagon as symbols
of tribal power. It was perhaps through the mobility of the horse, and their economic
and cultural soft power, that the Hallstatt peoples expanded out of their traditional
heartland, and exported their cultural influence across much of central Europe.
The transition from Hallstatt C to D occured around 600 BC, and was marked by the culture
shifting west along the Danube, Rhine, and Seine rivers, gravitating towards the Greek
Colony of Massalia, modern Marseille. The Phocean Greeks of Massalia were the early
Celts’ gateway to the riches of the Mediterranean world. Through them, they imported all sorts
of southern luxuries, including fine pottery, glass, and the most precious luxury of all,
wine. Late Hallstatt peoples soon began trading with other Mediterranean peoples, including
the Phoenicians and the Etruscans, whose advanced civilization we’ve covered in a previous
episode. The first historical mention of the Celts
came in 517 BC from the Greek historian Hecataeus of Miletus, who referred to the people living
beyond Massalia as Keltoi. This word was possibly borrowed from a tribal endonym, or was Greek
for “the tall ones”, contributing to the enduring stereotype that the average Celt
stood a head taller than their Greco-Roman counterpart. Either way, it is a term that
we still use today. Late Hallstatt chieftains consolidated a great
amount of power by virtue of the foreign wealth they controlled. The many small hill forts
that dotted the landscape were largely replaced by fewer but larger population centers, such
as the ruins of an impressive tribal complex at Hueneberg in southern Germany. Meanwhile,
the barrow mounds became more splendorous than ever before, inlaid with luxury imports
from Greece and Etruria. By around 500 BC the Hallstatt culture had reached its peak
in wealth, territory, and influence. But how can we be sure that the Hallstatt
material complex represents the early development of a distinct Celtic culture? First of all
the swords found in late Hallstatt graves closely resemble the weaponry that Greco-Roman
writers described the Celts using in later centuries. Secondly, the importance of the
symbolic horse and wagon in burials was considered an early form of later Celtic funeral rites,
which saw Chieftains buried within two-wheeled war chariots.
The geometric and animalistic art style of the late Hallstatt era is accepted to be an
early form of Celtic artwork, and perhaps most importantly, the name Hallstatt itself
is derived from an old Celtic word meaning “Salt Place”. This is reinforced by the
fact that in the Celtic languages of Welsh, Cornish, and Breton, the words for “Salt”
are Halwyn, Haloin and Hollein; presumably cognates of the same ancient root as the ancient
word from which the name of the modern town of Hallstatt is derived. The evidence all
seems to suggest that the Hallstatt heartland was where the Celts emerged as a visible people
group, featuring an early form of the Celtic language, tribal hierarchy, and artistic expression.
However, this theory has its problems: although by the late Hallstatt period, artifacts belonging
to the culture could be found from Britain to Croatia, it did not mean that all the peoples
in those lands were early Celts. Additionally, not all Celtic speakers in the early Iron
Age would have belonged to the Hallstatt culture. The early Celtic language that became associated
with the Halstatt Heartland developed out of an older Indo-European tongue around 1500BC,
and over centuries spread across much of central and western Europe. People on the periphery
of the early Celtic world adopted the Proto-Celtic tongue due to the cultural and economic influence
of the Hallstatt elites, but did not necessarily adopt the material culture. For example, Ireland
and parts of Spain were predominantly Celtic-Speaking by the 5th century BC, but the Celtic migrants
there had mixed with the indigenous populations of those regions to form the Celtiberian and
Gaelic cultures, which had little to no cultural continuity with the Hallstatt complex. Basically,
there were those who followed the Hallstatt culture who were not Celtic speaking, and
Celtic speaking peoples who were not of the Hallstatt culture.
The prosperous world of the Hallstatt Chieftains came to a sudden end around 450 BC, when the
increasingly imperialistic Massalian Greeks decided to abandon their old trade connections
to instead try and subjugate the Celts, while the Etruscans shifted their trade routes away
from the Hallstatt heartland. As a result, Celtic power shifted to the north, evolving
into Hallstatt’s dynamic successor, the La Tene.
The La Tene culture lasted from around 450 to 50 BC, and is the most iconic era of ancient
Celtic history. Developing in four separate tribal centers, principally along the Moselle
and Marne rivers, it soon expanded across much of Europe. By 300 BC, the La Tene culture
was dominant across Central Europe, France, Luxembourg, Belgium and Switzerland, and later
would arrive in Britain, western Spain, and Ireland. La Tene artwork was what the conventional
mind considers quintessentially Celtic, featuring cauldrons, drinking vessels, weapons, shields,
armour, and jewellery characterized by stylistic spiral patterns.
It is here we slowly transition from relying primarily on archaeological finds, and into
the written attestations of Classical Greek and Roman authors, who while often biased
or misinformed, still give us a workable amount of information in piecing together the Celtic
world, its language, politics, society, and religion.
The general public may be familiar with the word “Gaul”, a term often used to refer
to the Celts of the La Tene world. This title comes from the old Germanic “walhaz”,
meaning “foreigner”, which the Celts certainly would have been in the eyes of the ancient
Germanic tribes. Meanwhile, when the young Roman Republic, encountered the La Tene Celts
across the Alps in Northern Italy, they referred to them as “Galli”, which might have been
the name of an individual tribe they applied to the entire ethnocultural group. We will
use the words “Gaul”, “Gallic” and “Celtic” interchangeably, but generally
this was not how the peoples in question referred to themselves.
Indeed, a common misconception is that there was ever a linguistically or culturally uniform
nation of Gallic people. By the La Tene period, the Celtic languages had diverged drastically
from one another. The main split were the P-Celtic languages, spoken across North-Central
Continental Europe and modern Britain, and Q-Celtic, the more lexically conservative
tongues spoken by the Gaels of Ireland and probably the Celtiberians of Spain. This split
can still be observed today in the modern Welsh and Irish languages, which are mutually
unintelligible due to belonging to the P and Q subgroups respectively. It is unlikely that
the speakers of their ancient counterparts would see any common ground between themselves.
Gaels and Celtiberians aside, the Gauls of the continent and Britons of the isle to their
north were perpetually a politically divided people. The main form of social organization
in the Celtic world was the tribe, ruled by a hereditary Chief and his warrior aristocracy.
A chief’s lands were further subdivided into administrative districts called pagi,
governed by lesser houses loyal to the chieftaincy in a system similar to Feudalism. Mainly through
Roman records, we know that some notable tribes that existed in the late iron age include
the Helvetii, Senones, Veneti, and Tectosages. Some names live on even today, such as the
Belgae, who gave their name to modern Belgium, or the Parisii, for whom the city of Paris
is named. Still, the Gaulish peoples likely acknowledged
elements of a common culture that was shared beyond tribal lines. One constant was the
social hierarchy. At the top of the pyramid was the Chieftain, who like his Hallstatt
ancestors ruled rural communities from a Hillfort, which were constructed with timber-lace and
stone ramparts the Romans called Murus Gallicus. Under the chief was an elite aristocracy of
warrior-nobles. Next were craftsmen, mostly consisting of skilled metallurgists who lived
in and around the Chief’s hillfort, supplying the warriors with arms and armour. 90% of
Gallic society were subsistence farmers, providing a portion of their production to their Chief,
who used it to maintain his warrior aristocracy, which in turn protected the farmers from external
enemies in a mutualistic relationship. Wheat, barley, beans, oats, and peas made
up the Gallic diet, while sheep, pigs and cattle were commonly raised for wool, meat,
and milk. In the south of France, the Celts cultivated grapes and olives. Rather than
being a primitive naturalistic people as common perception implies, the Gauls were actually
highly developed, with ploughs, iron shares and coulters able to efficiently till even
the heaviest soils. Most Gauls lived in small rural communities
in rectangular houses of timber, wattle, daub, and clay, well insulated for cold winters.
In Britain, Ireland, and Northwestern Spain, homes were mainly circular and built on unmortared
stone. Architecture differed little between the social classes, though the feasting hall
of a warrior aristocrat would be larger than a peasant’s sheep farm.
Greek and Roman writings and sculptures have given us a romanticized image of the average
Gaul as a towering, red-maned noble savage sporting a manly mustache, while painted head
to toe in terrifying war paint. In reality, the average Gaulish man would not have been
much taller than the average Roman or Greek. While fashion differed from region to region,
the Gauls tended to dress conservatively. Men generally wore long-sleeved tunics and
baggy trousers woven from flax and wool. Women tended to wear long dresses, while both sexes
were often draped in cloaks decorated with colourful plaid patterns rendered from natural
dyes of copper, berries, plants, and stale urine.
Personal grooming was highly important to the Celts. For example, both sexes were said
to meticulously and painfully pluck all their body hairs. Additionally, there is some truth
to the stereotype of the thick Gallic mustache, depicted often in both Celtic and Greco-Roman
iconography, it was likely believed to be a sign of manhood & virility. Gallic warriors
were also said to have washed their hair in a mixture of slaked lime and water which stiffened
it into white spikes. Tattoos and skin dyes were not practiced by continental Gauls, and
were limited mainly to the ancient Britons, who according to Roman accounts, rendered
a bluish dye from the isatis tinctoria flower, called woad, which when applied to their flesh
was said to provide magic protection in battle. Often of cultural or spiritual significance,
jewellery was common among the upper classes. The brooch, a fastener for a cloak, was a
remarkably enduring characteristic of celtic fashion for centuries. Bracelets and arm rings
were common, fashioned in the ornate swirling style characteristic of La Tene art. The Torc,
a weight metal neck-ring, was a symbol of status and rank, said to bestow the protection
of the Gods to whoever wore it. On that note, we should take a moment to explore
the religion of the Ancient Celts. There are two major misconceptions of Ancient Celtic
Polytheism, one perpetuated by modern neo-Pagan groups, who often portray the ancient Celtic
faith as a pure, idealized form of proto-environmentalist nature worship, and one perpetuated by the
Ancient Romans, who sought to portray the Celts as backwards barbarians.
The Gaulish Gods did not belong to an ordered pantheon, and religion across the Celtic world
was not uniform. Today we know of over 400 Gallic deities, most being the holy patron
of a single tribe, or a local god associated with a certain area, like Sequana, who was
worshipped only at the mouth of the River Seine. However, there were a handful of Gods
who were prominent across the Celtic world. These would include the thunder-wielding Taranis,
Maponos the God of Youth, Belenus the Sun God, Cernunnos the Horned One, Epona the Horse
goddess, and Toutatis, the war-like Tribal protector. One of their most popular Gods
was Lugh, patron of business, trade and technology, dismantling the misconception that Celtic
polytheism was purely naturalistic. Celtic religious rites were rigidly structured, and
not unlike the Olympian religion when it came to sacrifice and divination. It was facilitated
by a class of professional priests - The Druids. Today, the Druids conjure up a popular image
of mysterious, long-bearded elders in white robes. However, they actually wielded massive
political influence, often serving as peace-makers and diplomats on behalf of their chieftains,
mediating legal matters, serving as healers, and heading education in their tribe. Training
in order to become a druid involved an intense 20-year regimen, in which a dedicant had to
memorize a massive array of oral histories, lore, medicinal knowledge, astronomy, religious
rituals, and divination practices. Meanwhile, magic potions that bestow superhuman strength
on their drinkers are regrettably absent from Druidic historiography. The Druids likely
belonged to a common order that existed beyond tribal lines. They hosted a pan-Gaulish meeting
each year among the Forests of the Carnutes, sacred ground where major political or religious
issues were settled between tribes, making them a key vehicle in maintaining a common
identity among the many tribes. One of the key duties of a Druid was to officiate
sacrifices to the Gods. Human sacrifice is often described as a core part of the Celtic
ritual. According to the Roman author Lucan, different Gods called for different forms
of ritual slaughter. Toutatis’ victims were drowned in a vat of water, while Taranis’
called for men to be beheaded, or burned alive in giant effigies of straw. According to the
Greek historian Diodorus, human victims were also sacrificed for the purposes of divination.
The Druids never wrote anything down, keeping their knowledge a secret restricted to members
of their order. We will never have their own accounts of their religious rites, while the
Roman authors who wrote about these practices had a vested interest in making their Celtic
enemies look savage and barbarous. We can’t deny the existence of human sacrifice, but
we should also keep in mind the limited perspective that modern scholars have been offered on
the subject. Between the 4th and 2nd centuries BC, La Tene
Celtic culture had assimilated its way across a staggering amount of Europe. This is exemplified
by modern day countries as far apart as Portugal and Ukraine, which both have provinces named
‘Galicia’ - land of the Gauls. Warfare played a huge role in this continental spread,
which begs the question, what made the Celts such effective fighters? The stereotypical
image of the Gallic warrior perpetuated by Greco-Roman writers is that of a savage, ferocious
in spirit, but primitive in equipment and strategy. However, the full story is much
more complex. For one thing, Gaulish arms and armour were
highly advanced for their time. The Celts were master ironworkers who were able to arm
their warriors with longswords, and spears with specialized tips for either thrusting
or throwing, making the average Gaul deadly in melee and ranged combat. For protection,
the Gallic fighters bore a long oakwood shield, with a hard iron boss for blunt-force bashing.
Most warriors wore agen and port type helmets, featuring a brimmed iron dome, and a pair
of wing-like cheekguards. There is also evidence that the Gauls were the inventors of chainmail,
based on surviving pictorial evidence of a type of metal cuirass, made of tightly linked
iron rings, the earliest historical example of such technology. The Romans were so impressed
by Gallic metallurgy, that the Legionary’s helmet, his Lorica Hamata armour, and even
his Gladius and Spatha swords, were all adapted from Celtic or Celtiberian designs. So, Roman
armour as we know it today actually owes its iconic form in huge part to the innovations
of the Celts. However, among the Celts themselves, body
armour was rare, mainly reserved for select high-ranking nobles, while most warriors went
into battle wearing just shirts, trousers, or in some cases, nothing at all. The naked
warrior is one of the most enduring legends of Celtic history. Historical evidence suggests
a significant amount of Celts did fight nude, either for religious purposes or to inspire
fear in their enemies. Surviving depictions of bare skinned Celtic combatants in both
artwork and historical record suggest that while the majority of Gauls did not fight
naked, the practice was fairly normalized. The use of the iconic the war-chariot also
bares mentioning, as they were used both as versatile mobile missile units, and also as
basic transport vehicles, quickly ferrying warriors from one theatre of battle to another.
For all their arms and armour, the principal advantage of the Gallic army was their ability
to utterly terrify their foe. Both Roman and Greek records report on the petrifying nature
of the Celts, claiming that before any engagement, they would roar and brag, performing ritualistic
war-dances while bellowing a deafening sound out of their boar-headed war trumpets. Put
yourself in the shoes of a superstitious plebeian fresh off an ancient olive farm or slums of
Rome, and you can appreciate the supernatural terror that a mob of screaming, dancing, horn-blaring
muscle-men must have had. In terms of battle tactics, the Celts kept
things fairly simple. Skilled javelin throwers would soften up enemy formation, while chariot
and cavalry riders would be used to flank and harass. For the most part, a Gallic victory
banked entirely on a disorganized blood-drunk charge, the impact of which was usually enough
to rout the enemy formation, making it easy to slaughter them piecemeal.
Ancient Celtic warfare may have lacked the discipline of a Legion or Phalanx, but it
wasn’t primitive or basic. To the Gauls, war was a way of life, and their dynamic formula
of inspiring terror in their enemies and fearlessness among themselves was what saw their armies
come to dominate not just the majority of continental Europe, but also take them right
up to the doorstep of a young Roman Republic. From about 450BC, Gallic Northern and Central
Europe became overpopulated, and many enterprising Celtic war leaders led their retinues southwards
to Italy, which the Celts knew to be a bountiful land of olives, figs, and wine. According
to the Livy, they first entered the peninsula as early as 600BC, when a multi-tribal band
of immigrants led by the King Bellovesus of the Bituriges crossed the Alps, and made war
on the northern cities of the Etruscans, a culturally sophisticated, but politically
independent network of city-states whose heartland was in modern day Tuscany. Upon driving the
Etruscans out of the Po Valley, the Gauls founded the settlement of Mediolanum, the
modern city Milan. Other waves of migration followed, and by 400BC, various Gallic tribes
had established themselves as the masters of a chunk of Northern Italy that stretched
from the Alps to the Adriatic Coast. Indigenous Ligures to the west and Veneti to the east
eventually became culturally assimilated by their Celtic neighbours. The Gauls were on
the rise, but they were not the only growing power in Italy.
In 400BC, the city of Rome was a smallish city-state of some 25,000 living in humble
homes of brick and timber, long ways to go to the eternal city of marble it later became.
Nevertheless, in the last 100 years the Romans established hegemony over all the cities of
Latin league, overthrew their monarchy, and emerged as a dynamic Republic. In 396BC, the
brilliant Roman commander, Marcus Furius Camillus, conquered the Etruscan city of Veii, establishing
a foothold for further northwards expansion, putting Rome on the collision course with
the Celts. Modern historians are split on how the first
Gallo-Roman war broke out. Some claim that a Gallic tribe invaded Rome on behalf of Dionysus
I, the tyrant of the Greek city of Syracuse, who wanted to knock the Romans down a peg
for supporting his rivals in Messina. Others claim that the warlike Celts needed no incentive
to invade Rome, and did so simply for glory and plunder. According to Dionysius of Halicarnassus
the seeds of conflict were sown when the King of the Etruscan Clusium, Lucumo, engaged in
a dalliance with a married woman. Her aggrieved husband, an influential merchant named Aruns,
went north to the Gauls of the Po Valley, seeking to use them as his instrument of revenge
by convincing them to attack Clusium. Aruns’ call was answered by King Brennus
of the Senones, who was happy to make war on Clusium, coveting its riches and fertile
lands. The people of Clusium were alarmed by the Gallic horde, and called to the Romans
for aid. In response, the Roman senate sent a trio of ambassadors to serve as neutral
mediators. When the ambassadors asked Brennus why he made war on Clusium, he tersely replied
“for the same reason Rome conquers her neighbours”. Tensions soon flared, and an armed quarrel
broke out between the representatives of the Clusians and Senones. In the heat of the moment,
one of the Roman ambassadors slew a Senone warrior. Brennus was infuriated by the breach
in diplomatic conduct, and sent envoys to Rome, calling for the extradition of all three
ambassadors, but his demands were refused. Thus the Gauls declared a blood feud upon
the Romans, and advanced southwards to settle the score.
The military tribunes of Rome quickly mustered an army and marched out to meet their foe.
In the fifth century BC, Rome was centuries away from fielding the professional legion:
Wealthier citizens armed themselves in the style of the Greek Hoplite, but the majority
fought with various destandardized weapons and little protection. They made their stand
on the river Allia. In modern historiography, our understanding of the Battle of the Allia
relies heavily on the accounts of two Roman historians, Livy and Diodorus Siculus. Neither
of these can be taken wholly at face value since both authors have their inherent biases
and, more importantly, lived over three centuries after the events in question, meaning that
neither penned down first-hand accounts of the battle but rather chronicled a story which
by their time, had already been passed down for countless generations. Nevertheless, our
interpretation of this battle will anchor itself mainly on Livy’s testimony in the
interest of simplicity and linearity. And a scathing testimony it is, for Livy has
almost nothing good to say about his Roman ancestors. After choosing the place in which
they would meet their barbarian nemesis, the consular tribunes in charge of the Roman army
behaved with flagrant negligence, failing to set up a proper camp, build defensive ramparts,
or perform the proper sacrificial rites to their Gods to ensure that divine fortune was
on their side. Moreover, Livy also criticizes the Roman battle formation, which consisted
of a single line, presumably with those rich enough to have armed themselves with a full
Hoplite’s panoply forming into a standard phalanx formation. The tribunes stretched
out their wings, with the right being positioned on reserve on a nearby hill. This was done
to prevent being outflanked but only contributed to the weakening of the center, which was
now spread far too thin to form an effective defensive lockstep. Perhaps the most egregious
mistake the consuls made was to position their army perpendicularly across the Allia river,
which put their backs to its distributary, the mighty Tiber. In so doing, the Romans
had essentially limited their own maneuvrability and backed themselves against a wall.
On July 18th, Brennus’ Gallic host crested over the horizon, likely outnumbering the
Romans significantly. No enemy the Romans had faced thus far, be they Etruscans, Sabines
or their fellow Latins, commanded the petrifying aura of the pale, long-haired giants who now
stood across the field from them. Fear spread like a pox through the Roman line, with Livy
claiming that the Gauls’ ‘hideous howls and discordant clamour filled everything with
dreadful noise.’ After performing a quick survey of his enemy’s battle formation,
Brennus quickly deduced that the Roman right flank was the greatest threat, for if he attacked
the Roman center head-on, the reserves on the hill could circle down and attack him
from the rear. In typical Gaulish fashion, Brennus addressed this hazard directly, ordering
his fiercest soldiers to charge the hill and dislodge the Roman right from its position.
Thus did the Gauls begin their thunderous charge, howling, screaming and blaring their
carnyxes. As the Celtic warriors closed in, they unleashed a withering hail of Javelins
upon their foes, which thinned out their quarry enough that when they charged up the bluff
and slammed into the reservist line, the legionnaires almost immediately broke.
Seeing their brethren on the right collapse, morale on the Roman left and center plummeted.
Consumed by paralytic terror, they began routing, seemingly before the Gauls had even engaged
them. They turned their backs on their foe and fled, only to find themselves up against
the banks of the Tiber. Thousands of Romans attempted the river crossing, with many drowning,
weighed down by their armour, and many more cut down by the pursuing Gauls as they clogged
up the riverbank in their chaotic, panicked retreat. However, after the pandemonium and
slaughter had subsided, most of the Roman army had escaped to the other side of the
rapids, where they fled behind the walls of Veii, a city Rome had conquered not one decade
prior. The Battle of the Allia was a testament to how effective Gaulish fear tactics could
be upon an enemy who was unprepared to face them. For centuries thereafter, a fear of
Celts would be ingrained into the Roman national psyche, as the reckless ferocity of the Gallic
horde rendered them into something akin to savage bogeymen: the wolves prowling at civilization’s
door. After his decisive victory, King Brennus led
the Senones to Rome, and put the city to the torch. It was the first time the eternal city
had ever been sacked, and it would take 800 years for any other foreign army to ever do
so again. According to later Roman historians, a surviving core of senators and able-bodied
citizens were able to retreat to the citadel on the Capitoline hill to mount a defense,
watching helplessly while the rest of the city was thoroughly pillaged. The Senones
twice tried to take the Capitoline, first with a frontal assault which was repulsed,
and second with a night-time infiltration, which was famously foiled by the honking of
the Sacred Geese of Juno. After many months of impasse, both sides had
become emaciated by starvation and plague. The Romans resolve broke first, and they agreed
to pay the Senones a sum of 1,000 pounds of Gold to make them leave. Here, Roman historian
Livy claims that the Gauls weighted the measuring scales to cheat the Romans out of more tribute
than had been agreed upon. When the Romans protested, Brennus threw his own sword onto
the scale, bellowing: “vae victis”: woe to the vanquished. According to Diodorus of
Sicily, it was at exactly this moment Marcus Furius Camillus arrived with a relief army.
He defiantly threw his own sword on the scales, and declared: “non auro, sed ferro, recuperanda
est patria” - We defend Rome not with gold, but with iron. He then attacked the Gauls,
and drove them out of the city. These traditional recantings of the Senones’
war are likely the result of Roman propaganda. Livy and Diodorus authored their accounts
centuries after the sack happened, and were probably trying to salvage some honour out
of a particularly dark chapter of Roman history. In particular, Camillus’ last-minute heroics
were likely a complete fabrication. Simply put, the true summary of the events is probably
as follows: Gauls crushed the Romans, looted their city, blockaded the Capitoline hill,
got paid, and went home. This simplistic take is plausible, because the Gauls were a simple
war party that probably sought nothing more other than to obtain plunder and return to
their families. It would take a generation for Rome to recover
from the devastation brought upon it by the Senones, while conversely, Gallic influence
in Italy grew ever stronger. Throughout the 4th and early 3rd centuries BC, Celtic war-parties
regularly plundered into the Roman hinterlands, while Gaulish mercenary groups became a staple
contingent of many anti-Roman factions, such as the Greek Tyrants of Sicily, and a certain
up-and-coming Carthaginian thalassocracy. Rome would not be the only classical civilization
the Gauls would make war on. Let us now shift our focus eastwards, to the land of Philosophers
and Hoplites, and talk about the Celtic invasions of the Ancient Greek world. Gallic war parties
had entered the northern Balkan Peninsula in the early 4th century BC, where they would
spend the next century in sporadic warfare with the Illyrians, Thracians, Paeonians,
and other local native peoples. According to the Greek historian Strabo, in 335 BC,
a certain Alexander, yes, that Alexander, was encamped along the Danube river, fresh
from his victories in his campaign to subdue the Illyrian tribes. There, he received an
envoy of foreign barbarians, tall, muscular Gauls, who had come to seek the Macedonian
King’s friendship, for they respected his prowess as a leader of warriors. As the story
goes, Alexander asked the Gauls what they feared most, expecting that they held him
in such awe they would say Alexander himself. Instead, the Gauls haughtily replied that
they feared only that the sky would fall on their heads. Nevertheless, the Celts were
always ready to respect a worthy warrior, and showed great admiration for the Macedonian
King, daring not to invade Greece while he ruled. Alexander would go on to conquer most
of the known world, only to die prematurely in Babylon, and as his former territories
became divided by infighting among his former generals, the rich lands of Hellas entered
the crosshairs of Gallic warlords looking for easy plunder.
In 298BC, the Gallic chieftain Cimbaules led a war party that pillaged its way through
Thrace and Macedon, only to be stopped in its tracks by the army of the Diadochi King
Cassander on the slopes of Mount Haemus. Nevertheless, during this expedition the Gallic Serdi established
a foothold in Thrace, founding the settlement of Serdica on the site of the modern day Sofia.
The next Celtic wave would arrive in 281BC, when a horde of 85,000 men, mostly of the
Boii and Volcae tribes, split into three contingents and simultaneously invaded Paeonia, the rest
of Thrace, and Macedon. During this expedition, a war chief known as Bolgios faced down the
army of Ptolemy Keuranos, current king of Macedon, and son of the founder of the Ptolemaic
dynasty in Egypt. In the battle that followed, the Macedonian King himself was thrown from
his war elephant and hacked to pieces by Gallic warriors.
These initial successes increased the appetite for further incursions into Greece, and a
year later, a Chieftain known as Brennos began calling for another southwards expedition.
According to legend, Brennos called for an assembly of Gallic Chieftains, and presented
before them a group of Greek captives, who were weak in body. He juxtaposed them with
his finest, most well-built warriors, using this as proof that the Greeks were a weak
people compared to the Gauls, and could be easily overrun. By 279BC, Brennos had successfully
assembled a massive tribal coalition. Ancient sources claim his army amounted to a mind-boggling
150,000 warriors, but modern estimates give us a more realistic figure of 50,000. Brennos’
pillaged through undefended Northern Greece unimpeded. Some stories claim that, when questioned
on the sacrilegious nature of looting the temples, Brennos’ pithily remarked: ‘The
Gods, being rich, ought to be generous to men’.
As is par for the course, the story of the Gallic invasion of Greece survives almost
exclusively through the writings of Greco-Roman authors. In this case, in the works of Pausanias,
a Greek Geographer living in Roman-ruled Anatolia during the 2nd century AD. As it was with
Livy and his account of the Sack of Rome, Pausanias lived nearly 400 years after the
events he was describing and is prone to various anachronisms and biases, especially in describing
the ostensibly savage and barbaric Celtic invaders. Nevertheless, to maintain a straightforward
narrative, our interpretation of Brennus’ campaign will anchor itself to Pausanias’
version of events. Brennus’ horde seems to have met little
to no resistance as they ravaged their way throughout the region of Thessaly, where no
army large enough to stop them could be mustered. Indeed, it is likely that some Thessalians
even joined the Gallic horde, either through coercion or of their own free will, hoping
that by attaching themselves to the Gauls, they might themselves become rich through
loot and pillage at the expense of their fellow Greeks. Indeed, the Greeks were an endemically
disunited lot, with the Hellenic Kingdoms of Macedonia and the Near East and the city-states
of southern Hellas always bickering and warring. Brennus was most likely fully aware of this
and assumed that incorrigible Greek infighting would prevent any united defence force large
enough to oppose him from forming. This assumption would prove to be erroneous. As a massive
horde of barbarian marauders set the Macedonian and Thessalian countryside ablaze, the Greek
city-states around the Malian Gulf began to feel the heat. Thus, in an act of uncharacteristic
cooperation, a defensive alliance was formed: a political miracle likely achieved by the
Athenian statesman Demochares. According to Pausanias, this alliance consisted
of the following: 10,000 fully armoured heavy hoplites and 500 cavalry from Boeotia, 3000
lightly-armed footmen and 500 cavalry from Phocis, 700 footmen from Locris, 400 hoplites
from Megara, and 7000 hoplites and 800 light footmen from Aetolia. Athen’s contribution
to the ground forces, consisting of 1000 hoplites and 500 cavalry, was relatively small, but
they also deployed a large squadron of trireme warships to the war effort. As the Gauls finished
stripping Thessaly bare of its riches and began moving south, the Greek allies moved
into position, deciding to stop the Gallic advance at none other than the narrow pass
of Thermopylae. Stop us if you’ve heard this one before.
Soon, the allies had encamped in the pass where King Leonidas had made his last stand
against the Persians over 200 years earlier. There, the Greeks learned that Brennus’
host was already in the neighbourhood of Phthiotis, so they dispatched their cavalry and 1,000
light infantry to destroy all the bridges across the Spercheios river in an attempt
to delay the Gallic advance. This would not be effective, for Brennus was, as Pausanias
begrudgingly puts it: “not utterly stupid, nor inexperienced, for a barbarian, in devising
tricks of strategy.” As a counterplay, the war chief picked out the best swimmers among
his horde and deployed them to sections of the Spercheios which took the form of wide
and shallow marshes. Here, the chieftain’s hand-picked Gauls forded the river, amusingly
using their large oakwood shields as pool floaties, paddle-boarding across the water.
Where a Greek hoplite in full metal panoply would have had trouble making this aquatic
crossing, the lightly armoured Celts suffered no difficulties doing so.
Upon hearing that a vanguard of Gauls had made it onto their side of the river, the
Greek advance force retreated back to Thermopylae rather than engage. Thereafter, Brennos had
the local population of the Malian gulf rounded up and forced them to rebuild the bridges
over the Spercheios so the rest of his army could cross. The Malians took to this task
feverishly, terrified of Brennus and eager to get him and his destructive barbarians
out of their territory so they could go pillage elsewhere. After crossing the Spercheios,
the Gauls entered the hinterlands outside the city of Heracleia-in-Trachis, which they
plundered. However, they did not stay there long, for Brennus had now directed his full
efforts into driving away the army which opposed him.
On one fateful day, as the sun rose over the Thermopylae pass, the Greeks saw a horde of
spiky-haired mustachioed muscle men crest over the horizon. The Hellenes formed up:
heavily armoured hoplites forming into a tight phalanx as they blocked the pass and waited
for the coming charge, and thus the battle was joined. Pausanias’ account of the initial
Gallic assault begins with the cornerstone of Celtic warfare, a deafening, blood-curling
charge. With reckless abandon, tens of thousands of Gauls barreled toward the Greek line, hurling
their javelins into the phalanx, then clashing into their foe in a tidal wave of bare-chested
fury. However, the enemy they faced was not the disorganized rabble of an infantile Roman
republic but professional, disciplined men. Against the onslaught, the Greek phalanx held
firm, their shields locked and spears bristling. The melee was brutal, with the Gauls struggling
like madmen to break the Hoplite shield wall: “pierced by arrow or javelin, they did not
abate of their passion so long as life remained. Some drew out from their wounds the spears,
by which they had been hit, and threw them at the Greeks or used them in close fighting.”
But no matter how ferociously they hacked away at it, the phalanx would not break, and
the heavily armoured Greeks could easily cut down their lightly armoured counterparts.
Although both sides had cavalry, neither could use them, for the bottleneck made flanking
maneuvres impossible. Meanwhile, the Hellenic light infantry hurled javelins, slung rocks
and shot arrows at the Gallic horde from behind the front lines, further thinning out their
numbers, all while the Athenian Navy brought their ships as close to shore as possible
and, from the decks of their triremes, “raked the Gauls with arrows and every other kind
of Missile.” Just as it had been for the Persians three
centuries earlier, for the Gauls, the pass of Thermopylae had become a killing field.
After a day of fighting, Brennus had no choice but to concede that the Greek alliance would
not be dislodged from their position and ordered the retreat. This withdrawal was not orderly,
with the Gauls routing in a panic, “many crushed beneath the feet of their friends,
and many others fell into the swamp and disappeared under the mud.” Ultimately, the Battle of
Thermopylae was a decisive victory for the Greeks, with thousands of Gauls lying dead
and minimal casualties on the Hellenic end. However, this victory had not ended the Gallic
threat for good, for while Brennus had lost a significant chunk of his fighting force,
and his men were thoroughly demoralized, he was not ready to pack up and go home.
Knowing now that he would not be able to surmount his foe while they remained united and entrenched
in a choke point, Brennus devised a plan to break up the Greek alliance. He dispatched
a large contingent of footmen and cavalry under the command of two chieftains, Orestorius
and Combutis, to make for the nearby region to Aetolia and put it to fire and sword. This
they did, crossing the bridges on the Sperchieus, whereupon they cut through Thessaly and descended
upon the Aetolian city of Callium, subjecting it to a brutal sack, a scene Pausanias describes
viscerally: “The fate of the Callians at the hands of Combutis and Orestorius is the
most wicked ever heard of, and is without a parallel in the crimes of men. Every male
they put to the sword, and there were butchered old men equally with children at their mothers'
breasts. The more plump of these sucking babes the Gauls killed, drinking their blood and
eating their flesh.” This brutality’s intended purpose worked,
for it compelled the Aetolian contingent at Thermopylae to break camp and rush to defend
their homes. Still, it also stirred up a hornet’s nest, which would descend upon the Gauls in
a swarm. Horrified and outraged by the fate of Callium, the rest of Aetolia’s cities
began mustering up impromptu militias, with women taking up arms alongside their men,
driven by righteous fury to repel the invaders. Realising that the Gallic sword was dangerous
only at close quarters, the Aetolians resorted to skirmishing tactics. At a place called
Kokkalia, they ambushed the Gallic column, raining javelins, slings and arrows upon the
Gauls, who were shredded due to their lack of armour, “protected by nothing but their
national shields.” Over half of Orestorius and Combutis’ raiding party was slaughtered,
with the rest limping back to rejoin Brennus at Thermopylae.
Meanwhile, Brennus had made a play to flank the Greek blockade, having intimidated some
locals into revealing a path through Mount Oeta which would allow him to sneak around
the Greeks at Thermopylae and attack them from the rear. In fact, this was the same
pass that Ephialtes of Trachis had revealed to the Persians when he betrayed King Leonidas
300 years earlier. At the head of around half of his army, Brennus proceeded over the mountain
road, leaving the other half of his forces in command of a man named Acichorius, who
he commanded to attack once the enveloping movement was complete. Having learned from
the defeat of their ancestors at Persian hands, this time, the Greeks had left this secret
hill passage guarded: by the Phocian hoplites. Although the Phocians fought bravely to deny
Brennus thoroughfare, they were eventually overwhelmed and forced to retreat, but not
before they managed to send runners to the Greek army about what was happening. Knowing
they were about to be pincered, the Greeks withdrew, boarding upon the Athenian warships
and sailing off to safety before they could be surrounded and slaughtered by the Gauls.
Following this, Brennos made a final gambit, rearing his army eastwards for the sacred
Oracle of Delphi, hoping that seizing the riches of Apollos’ temple would salvage
the expedition. Here, the united Greek force reconstituted itself and made a final stand.
The Gauls were crushed, losing over 16,000 men in the battle and the ensuing retreat.
In the eyes of the Greeks, it was a victory delivered by Apollo himself, who saw fit to
punish the temple-defiling barbarians. Most of the surviving Celts retreated back to Thrace,
while a completely dishonoured Brennos commited suicide.
The Gallic invasion of Greece was a failure, but it had one significant consequence. Before
the march on Delphi, a contingent of the Gallic horde, composed mainly of warriors from the
Tectosages, Trocmii, and Tolistobogii tribes, had peeled off from the main invasion force
and crossed the Dardanelles into Anatolia. Unlike Brennos’ main force, which had come
to Greece to raid and plunder, this group had come to settle. They built forts on the
rugged hills of central Anatolia, and established permanence for themselves in the region by
serving as mercenary shock-troops in the many wars being fought in the region between various
Hellenic rulers. The region of Asia Minor these Gauls inhabited became known as Galatia,
and the people who lived in it the Galatians. Remarkably, even though they were surrounded
by foreign peoples, and isolated from the rest of the Gallic world, there is evidence
that the Galatians of Anatolia retained their Celtic language and culture as late as the
6th century AD. In 279BC, the Celtic world was at its greatest
extent. Spread out over a massive territory that overlapped the borders of modern nations
as diverse as Ukraine, Czechia, Austria, Switzerland, Bulgaria, Turkey, Italy, France, Britain,
Portugal and Spain. This was the golden age of the Celts, but like all golden ages, it
was not to last. Brennos’ defeat in Greece had proven something important: a well-trained,
well-armed professional army, fighting as a single disciplined body, was fully capable
of resisting the howling terror of the Gallic horde. This was a stark reality that the Gauls
would soon learn well, as back in Italy, the certain Latin Republic was on the mend, and
ready to take her revenge upon the barbarians who had once laid her so low.
After winning the second Samnite war, the Roman Republic had expanded its territory
and become the hegemons of central Italy. In 298BC, the third Samnite war began, with
the Etruscans, the Samnites, and the Gallic Senones tribe all trying to curb the growing
power of Rome. The Senones had been the terror of the Republic since they sacked Rome two
generations earlier, and in 295, they massacred a Roman army outside the Etruscan city of
Clusium, with Livy claiming that the heads of legionaries were mounted on the Gallic
spears as they sang their triumphant war songs. Yet, the tides turned later that year, when
the Senones and their Samnite allies clashed with the Romans outside Sentinum, where they
were crushed. Taking advantage of their victory in the third
Samnite war, the Romans pushed north, conquering the lands of the Senones by 283BC, where they
established a military colony called Sena Gallica. The sack of Rome had finally been
avenged. This was a critical junction in the Gallo-Roman story, for the Gallic illusion
of invincibility had begun to dim. But what had changed since the sack of Rome
to allow the armies of the Republic to finally be able to go toe to toe against the most
terrifying warriors in the ancient world? After being humbled by their Italic cousins
during the beginning of the second Samnite war in 315BC, the Romans realized that the
phalanx they had inherited from the Etruscans and Greeks was not a versatile fighting formation,
especially on uneven terrain, or against a particularly malleable foe. With the goal
of developing a more dynamic standing army, they created the innovative manipular system.
Under this system, the standard Roman legions were organized into three rows, each one comprised
of a checkerboard-like pattern of titular maniples, a basic unit of soldiers containing
120 heads. Compared to a Phalanx, which consisted of single, conjoined rows of men, the dynamic
maniples were able to maneuver about more effectively by virtue of being separate units.
The Manipular legions were organized into three standard rows. The frontlines were made
up of hastati, fresh recruits. Behind them were the principes, who were battle-hardened
soldiers. Finally, the back row was made up of triarii, the most veteran elites, and the
last resort in battle. Originally manufactured to battle the mounted
Samnites, the Manipular system soon proved effective against the Celts. As you will recall,
Gallic warfare revolved around using fear tactics to plummet enemy morale before utilizing
a single ferocious charge aimed to break their lines. This had worked in 390 BC, but the
new Maniples were far better equipped to weather the Gallic onslaught. Their three-line reserve
system meant that no single charge could rout a Roman legion, as even if the front line
of hastati broke, there were fresh, experienced principes and triarii to replace them. Moreover,
the general maneuverability of the Manipular Legions allowed them to counter the effectiveness
of more mobile Gallic units like the war chariot. It should, however, be noted that these innovations
did not make the Romans invulnerable to Gallic warfare. As the protracted, centuries-long
invasion of the Celtic world continued, many tribes would adopt styles of battle better
suited for countering the professional Roman war machine, scoring many victories that delayed
the Imperial advance into Gaulish lands. In the decades after their conquest of Senones’
territory, Rome would become entangled in several other wars, first locking horns with
Pyrrhus and his lumbering war elephants, then with Carthage for the first time. By the end
of these wars, Rome had become the undisputed master of peninsular Italy, and the way into
the Celtic lands of the Po Valley was now open.
The primary trigger for the next great Celtic war came in 232, when tribune Gaius Flaminius
- who would later die in battle against Hannibal at Lake Trasimene - proposed a bill that would
distribute land in former Senone lands in Picenium between the Roman colonists. This
proposal was incredibly popular among many segments of the population, but many others
fiercely resisted it, fearing the barbarians’ reaction. They were right to be anxious. Many
of the Celtic tribes, observing this blatant repopulation of lands which had so recently
belonged to their own kinsmen, became convinced that Rome was now waging war against them
not simply for ‘sovereignty and supremacy’, but for the purpose of their complete annihilation
or expulsion. Not willing to go gently into that good night,
two of the largest Italian Celtic tribes - the Insubres and the Boii - concluded a strong
alliance and then sent representatives into Gaul. They eventually reached the territories
of a combative group of Celts living in the Rhone valley known as the Gaesatae - fearsome
profit-minded warriors who frequently sold their violent services to the highest bidder
as mercenaries. Upon reaching Gaesatae lands, the Italo-Celtic ambassadors received an audience
with the local twin kings - Concolitanus and Aneroestus - speaking of Italy’s vast wealth
and pointing out just how much treasure could be hauled back if they crushed the Romans
and put the Peninsula at their mercy. Persuaded by the merits of this mercenary argument,
the Gaesatae began mustering a truly massive and well-equipped army, drawn from their own
lands and from Celtic tribes all over Western Europe.
As this was happening in the north, the Carthaginian Empire took another step towards the Second
Punic War by conquering most of Hispania, a process made considerably easier by the
movement of so many Celtiberians to join the two kings’ rapidly growing invasion army.
Suddenly beset by threats on each flank, Rome renewed its previous treaty with the Barcids
of Spain in order to fully concentrate its resources on the impending Celtic invasion.
The storm finally hit in 225BC when the plunder-hungry 50,000 strong Gaesatae-led horde crossed the
Alps and joined their brethren in Italy. Rome responded militarily by sending Consul Lucius
Aemilius Papus with a 40,000 strong army to Ariminum, where he awaited the Celtic onslaught.
In a flurry of activity, messengers were sent from Rome in all directions. One went to Sardinia
recalling the Republic’s second consul of 225 - Gaius Atilius Regulus - who had been
off quelling a revolt there at the time. Other hurried emissaries reached the courts of the
Gaesatae’s rival tribes, including those of the Veneti and Cenomani who, upon receiving
the Republic’s offer, turned against their Gallic brethren and threatened to invade their
lands. This forced the invading coalition to split its forces, leaving part of it in
the Po Valley to defend against a possible Veneti invasion. Even in these early days,
Rome’s diplomatic lethality was one of its sharpest weapons.
The Gaesatae, Insubres, Boii and many other tribes assaulted Etruria as one, overwhelming
the small defensive army there and ravaging its hard-gained wealth. Meeting little opposition,
the barbarian horde began a march which must have invoked the darkest nightmares of every
Republican citizen - directly on Rome itself. However, upon reaching Clusium - a scant three
days’ travel from the sacred capital itself - the Celts received reports that another
40,000 strong Roman allied army of Sabines and Etruscans was tailing them. Turning to
meet the threat, the twin kings came into close proximity of their enemy at dusk before
encamping for the night. At this point, the ‘uncivilised’ barbarians used a wily trick.
After lighting all of their fires, the Celtic cavalry was ordered to remain in camp until
daylight rendered them visible. However, the foot warriors withdrew to a nearby town called
Faesulae where they hid in ambush, constructing a field of traps along the path where they
expected Rome’s legions to march. When morning came, the unknown Praetor observed
an apparently vulnerable exposed formation of mounted enemy troops. Anticipating an easy
victory, he began pursuing the Celtic horsemen who rode away towards Faesulae at his advance.
Unfortunately for him, the Roman legions were struck by surprise upon passing the booby-trapped
area and, after a fierce fight, were destroyed with 6,000 dead.
The surviving Roman forces retreated to safety on a nearby fortified hill, but were surrounded
and besieged there by the Celts. However, exhausted by the nighttime exertion and desiring
rest, the victorious attackers left a cavalry detachment to keep watch over the hill before
retiring for the night. If the outmatched Romans did not surrender by daybreak, they
would be attacked. During the dark hours, however, Lucius Aemilius’ consular army
arrived in the area, having received word of the invasion of Etruria while he was stationed
at Ariminum. After constructing his own camp in visible
range of both the Celts and the desperate Roman army remnant, the consul quickly received
messengers from the latter informing him of the situation. Therefore, Aemilius had his
military tribunes arrange his infantry in battle formation at daybreak, while he personally
led his cavalry towards the Roman-held hill. At once realising that the two enemy forces
collectively came close to rivalling their own strength, King Aneroestus advised retreat
back home as to not risk all of the gathered loot.
Concurring with their chief, the Celtic army began withdrawing north along the western
coast of Italy. As they did, Aemilius joined the survivors of the Faesulae disaster to
his own army and began following the barbarians, declining any pitched battle in favour of
constant harassment of the enemy rear and catching isolated foraging parties when the
opportunity arose. As the leisurely Gaesatae retreat north continued,
Aemilius’ consular colleague Regulus arrived in Italy from Sardinia by sea and reached
the city of Pisa - he was now directly in the path of the marauding invaders, but didn’t
know it yet. Marching briskly in the direction of Rome, Regulus and his 40,000 encountered
and defeated a small advance unit of foragers near Cape Telamon and took a few prisoners.
Upon interrogation, these barbarian captives revealed details of everything that had occurred
as well as the current situation - the main Celtic army was nearby and approaching fast
with Aemilius biting at their heels. After initial surprise at the foe’s close proximity,
Regulus was overjoyed at the strategic situation. With himself blocking the road of retreat
and his colleague to the enemy’s immediate south, there was a very real opportunity for
total victory. After concluding the interrogation - probably
resulting in many dead Celts - Regulus drew up the infantry of his citizen legions into
a standard battle formation - velite skirmishers up front, hastati new bloods in the first
line, seasoned principes in the second, and grizzled triarii veterans in reserve. As the
legionaries began marching down the Telamon road in a typically disciplined Roman style,
Regulus personally led the mounted equites to occupy a strategically placed hill just
off the path, rushing the effort because of his eagerness to secure the position before
the Gaesatae and their allies arrived. In the fog of war, the approaching Celts were
unaware of Regulus’ army in front of them and, upon seeing the cavalry seizing the hill
in front of them, believed the horsemen were actually units of Aemilius who had managed
to slip around during the night. To regain the hill from this apparently isolated force,
the two Celtic kings sent their own cavalry and some light infantry to lock the landmark
down, but faced suspiciously more resistance than they initially expected. Nevertheless,
they slowly gained ground. After a short time, a Roman soldier was captured
and taken to the Gaesatae leadership, revealing the presence of Regulus’ second consular
army not far away. Suddenly realising the dire truth of affairs - that they were about
to be crushed between two Roman armies, one on each side - the Celtic leadership deployed
for battle in an unconventional two-line formation. One line, consisting of fearsome, fully naked
Gaesatae warriors and the powerful Insubres, faced south, while the other, made up of Taurisci
and Boii units, faced north. Wagons and chariots were on either wing.
Upon witnessing this peculiar deployment, Regulus Aemilius instantly realised that his
consular brother must have been nearby and set out to assist him. To do that, he drew
up his own legions to face the Celtic infantry while what cavalry he had left rode to assist
his colleague on the hill, further intensifying the struggle there. As the Romans slowly began
to turn the tables on their Celtic opponents in the struggle for the hill, Consul Regulus
was slain in the melee, last seen fighting with bravery and courage. Although his head
was cut off and taken to the two kings as a symbolic prize, it was not enough - soon
the reinforced Roman equites threw the Celtic cavalry into a rout, secured the hill, and
a strategic victory along with it. As soon as this happened, the legionary vice
slowly began to snap shut as Roman infantry in ‘checkerboard’ formation advanced on
the ‘two-face’ battle array of the Celts from both sides. As they came closer, a cacophony
of terrifying war cries, deep trumpets and horn-blowers made vast amounts of noise in
hopes of unnerving the Republic’s soldiers, but still they advanced. When the velites
of both Roman armies got into missile range, they unleashed a terrible storm of light javelins
upon the cornered Celts. While the north-facing front rank composed of Taurisci, wearing light
armour, cloak and donning a shield were able to resist the steel storm, the naked south-facing
Gaesatae immediately started suffering terribly. Because the Celtic shield failed to cover
a warrior’s entire body, many of the velites’ missiles got through the gaps, striking exposed
parts of the body such as legs and causing terrible wounds when they did. The larger
and more physically imposing a Gaesatae warrior was, the more chance a javelin had of striking
them from a distance. Unable to effectively countercharge due to
the distance and the relentless rain of iron from the sky, some of the naked warriors suicidally
charged towards the enemy ranks, most being floored by ranged weapons after only a short
time, while others reached the Roman light troops before falling. Having been scythed
apart before the true legions had even been engaged, the battered Gaesatae withdrew behind
their comparatively well-armoured Insubre comrades.
At this moment, both sets of Roman hastati advanced, each throwing their lethal pilum
javelins before drawing a fearsome thrusting sword. The battle was initially an event contest
- Celtic bravery, physical fortitude and prowess in combat going up against the notoriously
lash-laden discipline of Rome’s world-conquering legions. Unable to break the Insubres, Boii,
and Taurisci, who were so valiantly fighting for their homes as well as profit, the hastati
withdrew and allowed their more experienced principes to advance. This impact gradually
ground the stalwart Celtic line to dust, but they still did not break. As Polybius relates:
‘Though being almost cut to pieces, they held their ground, equal to their foes in
courage and inferior only, as a force and individually, in their arms.’ However valiant
their resistance, the Victory of Telamon was crowned when Aemilius’ victorious cavalry
charged down the hill and crashed headlong into the exhausted Celtic line. There was
no contest, but the barbarian warriors on foot chose to die where they stood rather
than fleeing, while the cavalry had no such compunction.
40,000 Celts were massacred at Telamon in what was probably one of the greatest battles
fought upon Italian soil until that point. A further 10,000 defeated barbarians entered
Roman captivity, including their King Concolitanus, who was left alive in preparation for a triumph.
As a reward for his legionaries, the consul marched north and invaded Boii lands in the
Po Valley, allowing the troops free reign to pillage, loot, and burn. With that done,
he returned to Rome a hero and celebrated a gilded triumph, in which Concolitanus was
the star exhibit. The defeat at Telamon shows us another disadvantage
that hamstrung the Gauls: disunity. Celtic leaders systematically prioritized the needs
of their own tribe, and even when different tribes worked together, it was always a temporary
measure. Before the campaign, the Romans had paid off Boii’s tribal rivals, the Cenomani
and Veneti, to invade Boii lands, forcing the Boii to keep a significant portion of
their warriors north to defend their borders rather than bear the full brunt of their army
down upon Rome. Celtic disunity also played a major role in the disparity in the quality
of equipment between the Roman and Gallic warriors. As we covered in the last chapter,
the Celts were incredibly skilled metallurgists, but their fragmented tribal society prevented
them from pooling their resources together to arm everyone equally. Rome, on the other
hand, was a single united polity with advanced infrastructure and central administration,
able to churn out professional legions equipped with standardized gear.
After their victory at Telamon, the Romans pushed deep into the Celtic alps, occupying
much of northern Italy. Not that they would be able to savour the sweetness of victory
long, for only a few years later, round two would erupt between the Republic and Carthage,
which this time was led by Hannibal Barca. In one of the most iconic military maneuvers
in history, Hannibal aimed to surprise the Romans by marching through the treacherous
Alps. There he was hailed as a liberator by the Boii and Insubres, who joined the Carthaginian
army en masse. However, some tribes like the Cenomani declared their loyalty to Rome and
thus had to be defeated by Hannibal’s forces. Nevertheless, at the battle of Cannae, where
30,000 Romans were slaughtered, much of the Carthaginian army was composed of Gallic mercenaries,
as well as Celtiberians, who we will get to later.
Since we all know how Hannibals’ story ends, let's fast forward a little bit. As Rome emerged
out of the second Punic war bloodied but victorious, they shifted their attention back northwards,
where the Boii and Insubres continued to resist Roman expansion. Even the Cenomani, who had
benefited little from their friendship with Rome, turned against their former allies.
Nevertheless, Rome had put down these insurrections by 191BC, and finally conquered all the Gauls
of northern Italy. Now, let us move westward, and explore a lesser-known
theatre in which the Roman Eagle clashed with the Celtic boar-head. Since the dawn of recorded
history, the Iberian peninsula had been a highly cosmopolitan land. By the 3rd century
BC, it was home to a variety of Celts, and non-Celtic peoples like the Lusitanians, Turdetani,
Aquitani and Iberians, whose languages and cultures probably pre-dated the arrival of
the Celts in the region. The Celtiberians, who lived in northwestern Spain were a divergent
Celtic culture probably created from intermixing between Celtic migrants and the native Iberians.
They spoke a Celtic language that was very different from the Gaulish languages of the
rest of continental Europe. However, it should be noted that Iberia was also home to various
Celtic speaking communities whose material culture was more in line with the mainstream
La Tene complex seen throughout the rest of Europe.
Much like in Italy, the story of Celts in Iberia is tied to the eternal struggle between
Rome and Carthage. The North African empire had had colonies along the peninsulas’ south
coast for centuries, but during the interbellum between the first and second Punic wars, Hamilcar
Barca and his young son Hannibal had pushed deep inland. Celtiberian tribes like the Carpetani
put up fierce resistance but were soon subdued. Iberia would consequently become one of the
most crucial theatres of the second Punic war.
After Rome emerged bloodied but victorious in their epochal struggle against Hannibal
Barca, they replaced Carthage as the new foreign overlord of southern and eastern Iberia, which
they divided into two regions: Hispania Citerior: ‘nearer Spain,’ and Hispania Ulterior:
further Spain. It did not take long before the proud native peoples of the peninsula
began rising up in defiance against the Roman eagle. It bares mentioning that, as with every
other Celtic war we have covered so far, the story of the Republic’s conquest of Iberia
comes nearly exclusively from Roman sources, in this case mainly the aforementioned Livy
and the Alexandrian historian Appian. As such, the following tale comes with the usual disclaimers
that one must provide when using culturally biased writers living several generations
after the events they write about to piece together ancient history.
Among the first native peoples in Hispania to rebel against Rome were the Turdetani,
a non-Celtic indigenous people living in the modern Andalusia region. The Turdetani hired
over 10,000 Celtiberian sellswords who lived adjacent to their lands to boost their numbers.
Indeed, mercenary work was a profession for which the Celtiberians had made themselves
famous during the Punic wars. Before long, huge revolts had spread like wildfire across
both Hispania Citerior and Ulterior, with the Iberians of the east coast rising up as
well. Several victories were won against the Roman garrisons in the region, and the governor
of Citerior, Gaius Sempronius Tuditanus, was slain in battle. When word of the severity
of these uprisings reached Rome, the senate responded by appointing the iron-fisted Consul,
Marcus Porcius Cato, to bring the quarrelsome natives to heel.
At the head of an army consisting of two Roman legions, 15,000 Latin allies, 800 cavalry
and 20 warships, Cato made landfall in the Gulf of Roses in 195 BC. The Consul quickly
secured a foothold in the land of the indigenous Iberians. Establishing a base of operations
in the Greek city of Emporion, he used a shrewd mix of diplomacy and psychological warfare
to secure the loyalty and submission of some Iberian tribes, like the Ilergetes, while
crushing openly rebellious tribes like the Indigetes. Within months, Cato had re-established
Roman control over the east coast of Spain and then proceeded south to subdue the Turdetani.
To that end, he allegedly offered the Celtiberian mercenaries among the Turdetani a huge bribe
to have them stand down, which they did. Now fully isolated, the lands of the Turdetani
were overrun. For the Celtiberians, the short-sighted decision
to take Roman gold would cost them. Having put down the rebellions of the Iberians and
Turdetani, Cato now turned upon them. Marching his army northwards, he successfully besieged
and captured the fortified hilltown of Segontia, the center of power of the Celtiberian Arevaci
tribe. Cato proceeded up the Ebro river, the heartland of Celtiberian territory, forcing
the other tribes in the area to tear down the walls of their hillforts and submit to
the authority of Rome. During his time in Hispania, Marcus Porcius Cato claimed to have
‘destroyed more cities than he had spent days in Hispania,’ having put over 300 native
settlements to the sword. His suppression of the first wave of anti-Roman rebellions
on the peninsula was brutal. It ensured that the young Republic’s presence in the region
would be permanent. Still, it did not, by a long shot, put a permanent end to the endemic
resistance against Roman rule. In 194 BC, Cato was called back to Rome and
replaced by his political rival, Publius Cornelius Scipio, who took the position of Praetor of
Hispania Ulterior. Scipio picked up where Cato left off, locking horns with the quasi-Celtic
Lusitani tribes along the border of Hispania Ulterior and defeating them in battle near
Ilipa near modern day Seville. Meanwhile, Marcus Fulvius Nobilior, the praetor of Hispania
Citerior, had launched a campaign deeper into Celtiberian lands, ingressing into the territory
of the Carpetani, the tribe which once put up a valiant resistance against the Barcids
of Carthage. In response to this invasion, the local tribes rallied around a leader,
who Livy identifies as ‘Hilerno’ and gives the title of ‘Rex.’ Forging together an
anti-Roman coalition consisting of the Carpetani, Vattones, Vaccaei and ‘Celtiberi’ tribes,
Hilerno brought the fight to the Romans. Still, his warriors were defeated by Nobilior outside
the fortress town of Toletum, and he himself was captured alive. After this, most Celtiberian
tribes submitted to Rome nominally, but sporadic revolts and opportunistic raiding never fully
ceased. Full-scale conflict would erupt again in 181
BC, when a Roman plan to transplant thousands of Italian settlers into Hispania caused a
surge of resentment among the Celtiberians, provoking a massive uprising which historians
today call the ‘First Celtiberian War’: the first of three such conflicts. Although
Livy provides scant details about the coalition that rose up to oppose the Republic, neglecting
to list which specific tribes took up arms or even the names of their leaders, he does
emphatically state that they mustered as many as 35,000 men, the largest force the Celtiberians
had ever before raised to fight Rome. At the time, the acting praetor of Hispania
Citerior was Quintus Fulvius Flaccus, who had only around 10,000 troops at his disposal,
consisting of 3,000 Roman legionaries, 6,000 Latin allies, and 500 cavalry. Levying troops
from the local tribes friendly to Rome, he received an additional 6,000 native auxiliaries.
Still, his forces were less than half that of the Celtiberian alliance which opposed
him. Nevertheless, Flaccus doggedly pursued the initiative, marching his army into the
territory of the Carpetani, and occupying the town of Aebura with little difficulty,
bivouacking the majority of his army just outside its limits. A few days later, the
Celtiberian host appeared on the horizon, setting up a fortified camp on a hill two
miles from the town. Flaccus ordered his cavalry to scout out the
size and fortifications of the enemy stockade but to retreat if engaged by the enemy’s
cavalry. This was accomplished without incident, and for a few days, nothing happened. Then,
after a prolonged standoff, the Celtiberians advanced out from their camp and formed a
battle line, challenging the Romans to fight. Flaccus ordered his men not to remain in their
camp. Over the next four days, the Spaniards sallied out of their camp repeatedly, but
the Romans never responded. After a while, the natives gave up on trying to goad their
foe into battle. Both camps settled into a docile routine, regularly sending out their
cavalry to scout the opposition but never interfering with one another.
By turtling up in his camp, Flaccus lulled the Celtiberians into complacency by making
them think they should not expect action soon. Once he was confident he had done this, he
sprung his trap. Under cover of nightfall, he ordered his subordinate, Lucius Acilius,
to take a contingent of cavalry and 6,000 native auxiliaries to make a circuit around
the mountain which lay behind the enemy camp and approach it from the rear. From there,
they laid in wait like a snake in the grass. To trigger the trap, Acilius sent a contingent
of his cavalry to ride out in front of the enemy camp and challenge them to do battle.
When the Celtiberians saw these horsemen before them, they immediately engaged, first sending
out their cavalry to chase them down, followed by infantry, who formed a battle line and
joined in the pursuit. Acilius’ ordered his men to retreat, drawing most of the Celtiberian
force as far away from their camp as possible. Once the Spaniards were half a mile out from
their camp, Flaccus ordered the bulk of his army to engage, advancing upon the approaching
enemy in three separate corps. Meanwhile, the Acilius’ forces on the hill charged
down into the Celtiberian stockade, where only 5,000 men had been left on guard. The
ambush caught them completely by surprise, and the Roman equestrians were able to take
the camp with little resistance before putting it to the torch. When the Celtiberians saw
their stockade go up in flames, panic and dismay spread among them. Knowing they were
now effectively trapped with nowhere to retreat to, their confidence crumbled. Nevertheless,
as Livy admits, they resolved to fight to the end. The Celtiberians crashed into the
Roman lines with reckless abandon and fought with such fury that it seemed they might break
through Flaccus’ lines for a time. However, before long, the Romans were reinforced by
the soldiers garrisoning Aebura and Acilius’ contingent, which smashed into the Spaniards
from the flank and the rear, respectively. Now surrounded, the battle became a slaughter.
Over 20,000 Celtiberian rebels died, while at least, according to Livy, Roman casualties
were minimal. Through their victory at Aebura, the Romans
dealt a mortal blow to the Celtiberian insurrection, but it still took another two years to stamp
it out entirely. In 180, Flaccus’ forces were ambushed in the Manlian Pass, and although
they were able to fight off their assailants, they sustained heavy casualties in the process.
In 179 BC, Flaccus was replaced by Sempronius Gracchus as governor of Hispania Citerior.
Gracchus subsequently spent the first year of his tenure grinding his way through the
territory of the Vaccaei and ‘Celtiberi,’ where he was said to have destroyed over 300
native fortresses. Gracchus adopted a policy of aggressive Romanization in the Ebro river
valley, ordering the construction of Roman towns on tribal land, and encouraging Celtiberian
warriors to enlist in the Roman army. Moreover, he made most native tribes sign treaties which
forbade them from building new fortified settlements, while taking members of their nobility back
to Rome as hostages. Through these measures, Gracchus was convinced that he had prevented
any further rebellions from happening in the future. He was wrong.
In 155, the Lusitanians and the Vettones initiated a war with the Romans in Hispania Ulterior.
Perhaps taking advantage of this distraction, the Celtiberian Belli tribe stopped paying
tribute to Rome, and defiantly began building a 7KM long circuit of walls around their stronghold
of Segeda, while convincing neighbouring tribes like the Titti to move into the area. By doing
this, they aimed to turn Segeda into a nucleus of Celtiberian resistance against Roman rule.
The Republican Senate was very aware of this, but when they protested that the denizens
of Segeda were violating the treaty they had made with Sempronius Gracchus two decades
earlier, the Celtiberians within pithily retorted that that treaty had forbidden them from building
new forts, not fortifying pre-existing towns. Naturally, the Romans would not stomach such
insolence, and the second Celtiberian war began.
The consul the Senate chose to put down this newest Spanish insurrection was Quintus Fabius
Nobilior, who arrived in Hispania in early spring at the head of a 30,000-strong army.
Upon arriving at Segeda, Nobilior found the city abandoned, for the inhabitants had known
they would not finish building the walls before the Romans arrived. They had retreated northwards
to Numantia. This large fortified city served both as the capital of the Araevaci tribe
and as the economic, political and military heart of Celtiberian independence in the heart
of Spain. There, the Segedans joined forces with the Araevaci and their allies and elected
a war chief, Carus, to lead them into battle. With typically Roman ruthless efficiency,
Nobilior had Segeda levelled before proceeding northwards to Numantia. While the Consul was
marching his army through a thick forest, he was ambushed by Carus’ army, comprised
of 20,000 Celtiberian footmen and 500 cavalry, who poured out from the treeline and smashed
into the Roman column with a fury. Appian, who recorded this encounter, did not specify
the exact location of this forest. Wherever it was, it would forever be a legionary’s
graveyard, for Carus achieved a ‘splendid victory’ there, his warriors cutting down
over 6,000 Roman citizens. Once the Romans began routing, the Celtiberians pursued disorderly,
with the fearless Carus at the head, performing ‘prodigies of valour’ in combat, according
to Appian. Here, the Roman cavalry, who had been guarding the baggage train at the rear
of the column, regrouped and fell upon Carus, cutting him down. Now deprived of their leader,
the rest of the Celtiberians withdrew. Nobilior’s army, despite being heavily bloodied, would
survive to fight another day. Nevertheless, for centuries thereafter, the Romans would
refuse to engage in any battles on the day of the festival of their God Vulcan, for their
humiliation at the hands of Carus’ Celtiberians had occurred on that day.
With their general dead, the coalition of tribes elected two new chieftains named Ambo
and Leuco to take his place as leaders of the anti-Roman war effort. Meanwhile, en route
to Numantia, Nobilior’s legions were reinforced by 300 Numidian light cavalry and 10 war elephants
from Rome’s ally in North Africa. When the Romans arrived at the rebel stronghold, they
found that an indigenous army had formed battle lines before the walls and intended to engage
them in a pitched battle. Nobilior divided his army into two and advanced, placing the
war elephants in the rear. Only when the two armies were about to clash did the consul
order the Roman wings to part, revealing the great-trunked beasts. The natives, having
never seen such monsters before, were ‘thunderstruck’ and fled back into their fortress. Nobilior
ordered an assault on the walls, and a fierce battle commenced.
In the ensuing chaos, Appian describes a rather chaotic turn of events: “one of the Elephants
was struck on the head with a large falling stone, whereupon he became savage, turning
upon his friends and destroying everything that came in his way, making no distinction
between friend and foe. The other elephants, excited by his cries, all began to do the
same, trampling the Romans underfoot, scattering and hurling them this way and that. The Romans
took to disorderly flight. When the Numantines perceived this, they sallied out and pursued
them, killing about 4000 men and three elephants. They also captured many arms and standards.”
At the end of the day, Nobilior had been hoisted on his own pachydermic petard, and Numantia
had held firm against the Roman onslaught. Withdrawing in disgrace, Nobilior attempted
an assault on the town of Axinium, which Appian enigmatically describes as “having accomplished
nothing” moreover, while withdrawing from there, he was once again ambushed by the Celtiberians,
who managed to slay his master of cavalry, Biesius. This landslide of Roman disasters
compelled the town of Ocilis to defect to the rebels, another severe blow to the Republic’s
war effort since their provisions were stored there. Completely hobbled, the Roman expedition
could do nothing but retreat in despair to his winter camp, where many of his men died
to food shortages and the blistering cold. Nobilior’s campaign to subdue the Celtiberians
had been a complete failure, and to no one’s surprise, he was sacked the following year.
In 152 BC, he was replaced as consul by Marcus Claudius Marcellus. Upon landing in Iberia
at the head of 8000 infantry and 500 cavalry, Marcellus was immediately more successful
than his predecessor. He managed to avoid ambushes shrewdly, and rather than assault
the imposing walls of Numantia head-on, he ground down the natives’ resolve to fight
by laying waste to the relatively less defensible countryside. Eventually, it became evident
that despite their valour and fighting spirit, the Celtiberians simply did not have the resources
or manpower to continue fighting the Roman war machine, which would just keep sending
army after army into their lands in perpetuity until they were ground down into dust. Thus,
the Arevaci, Belli and Titti tribes approached Marcellus seeking peace. Marcellus sent the
envoys of those tribes on to Rome, where they engaged in diplomacy with the Republican Senate.
The ultimate end result was a return to the status quo ante Bellum, with the tribes reaffirming
their adherence to the treaties their fathers had signed with Sempronius Gracchus a generation
ago, which effectively put them back under indirect Roman overlordship.
Marcellus’ diplomatic acumen might have brought lasting peace if not for the abject
brutality of his successors, Lucius Licinius Lucullus and Servius Sulpicius Galba, the
praetors of Citerior and Ulterior, respectively. In 151, Lucullus waged a genocidal campaign
in the lands of the Vaccaei tribe, a grotesque endeavour that even Appian, a Roman writer,
condemns as the folly of a man greedy only for fame and money. The governor of Citerior
then linked up with his counterpart in Ulterior, where they put an end to the Lusitanian war,
which had been raging on since 155 BC, promising the Lusitanians peace and leniency if they
put down their arms and surrendered to Rome, only to commit a treacherous massacre once
they did. One of the survivors of this massacre, a Lusitani
named Viriathos, channelled his rage toward the Republic into another massive rebellion
that would plunge the Iberian peninsula back into chaos for another twenty years. Soon,
Celtiberians had joined the Lusitani, picked up their falcata blades, and resolved to make
one last attempt to throw off the Roman yoke. The result was the third Celtiberian war,
also known as the Numantine war, for the fortress of Numantia was once more the nexus of the
indigenous war effort. And, poetically, the place where Celtiberian independence would
end permanently. In 133, the great fortress city fell after a prolonged siege, mastered
by the Roman statesman Scipio Aemilianus, starved its defenders into submission. After
this, most of Hispania fell under Roman control. Nevertheless, insurrection and rebellion remained
endemic in the region. The entire peninsula didn’t come under the Empire’s dominion
until after the Cantabrian wars in 19BC, rounding out a mind-boggling 200 years of struggle.
Paradoxically, one of the first territories the Romans conquered outside Italy was also
the one it struggled the longest against to completely pacify, a testimony to the valour
of the Iberians. It is now that our story shifts east, to the
sun-baked highlands of central Anatolia. Here dwelt the Galatians, a collection of Celtic
tribes who had been transplanted into the region as a byproduct of King Brennos’ failed
invasion of Greece in 279BC. Living amidst a sea of Greek-speaking successor states to
Alexander’s Macedonian Empire, the Galatians had adopted many of the trappings of classical
Greek culture. They primarily made their fortunes as career mercenaries, as their Gallic ferocity
made them the ideal shock troopers in any ambitious Macedonian Kings’ army. For a
century, the Gauls of Anatolia earned a fortune pillaging the fortunes of Greek rulers on
behalf of other Greek rulers. At the turn of the 2nd century, the Galatian
tribes attached themselves to the army of the Hellenic worlds’ mightiest King, Antiochus
III of the Seleucid Empire. One has to imagine that the Gauls assumed this would be a contract
like any other. They were wrong, Antiochus was engaged in a struggle for hegemony over
the Greek-speaking world with none other than the Roman Republic. Inevitably, the Seleucid
King’s ambitions would turn to ash in his mouth when his cataphracts, war elephants,
scythed chariots, and Gallic mercenaries were decisively defeated by the Romans and their
Pergamene allies at the battle of Magnesia in 191BC.
With the Seleucids humbled by the Scipio brothers, the Roman consul Gnaeus Manlius Vulso proposed
that the Republics should expand into the highlands of Galatia. The official pretext
for war was that the Galatians had fought alongside the Seleucids, but in truth, Rome
was probably lusting after the rich plunder that the Anatolian Gauls had accumulated over
their century of mercenary work. In the campaigning season of 189 BC, Consul Gnaeus Manlius Vulso
began mustering his forces in the city of Ephesus, where he was reinforced by some auxiliary
forces from Rome’s ally: the King of Pergamon, Eumenes II. Vulso then set forth on his campaign,
arriving on the border of the territory of the Tolistobogii: one of the three major Galatian
tribes. According to Livy, who once more is the closest thing we have to a contemporary
account of events, Vulso fired up his legionaries with a speech: “Of all the nations inhabiting
Asia, the Gauls are pre-eminent for military fame. Their tall persons, their long red hair,
their vast shields, swords of enormous length; their yells and dances, and the horrid clashing
of their armour; all these circumstances are preconcerted to inspire terror. But let Greeks,
Phrygians, and Carians, to whom these things are unusual and strange, be frightened by
such acts: to the Romans, accustomed to Gallic tumults, even these vain efforts to strike
terror are known. Once our ancestors fled from them, but it was long ago, when they
first met them at the Allia. Ever since that time, the Romans drive them before them in
dismay, and kill them like cattle.” Despite making his utter contempt for the
Celts of Anatolia obvious, Vulso still attempted to secure victory through diplomacy before
attempting it by the sword. To that end, he sent envoys to Eposognatus, a Galatian chieftain
friendly to Rome. Eposognatus promised to convince the other chieftains among the three
tribes to submit peacefully to the Republic. Encouraged by this, Vulso marched inland,
where the encamped his army near the Tolistobogii stronghold of Cuballum and awaited further
word. Here, he was greeted not by friendly envoys but by mounted Galatian raiders, who
launched a sudden attack on the Roman camp, inflicting light casualties before being driven
off by the Roman cavalry. Vulso broke camp and marched on the Galatian-inhabited
city of Gordion, which the Romans discovered to be completely abandoned. Eposognatus’
messengers reached the consul and told him the obvious: that their chieftain had failed
to convince the Galatians to submit to Roman authority. Furthermore, they reported that
the vast bulk of the Tolistobogii and Trogmi, under the leadership of one Chief Ortiagon,
had retreated to the mountain of Bithynian Olympus, where over 50,000 warriors, alongside
their women and children, had entrenched themselves. Meanwhile, the Tectosages had retreated to
Mount Magaba, adopting a similar defensive strategy.
When Vulso’s army reached the foot of Bithynian Olympus, they discovered that the Tolistobogii
and Trogmi had encamped themselves at the summit of the mountain, where they had dug
a ditch and erected defensive works around their position. They hoped that, by forcing
the Romans to climb the steep and freezing slopes of the mountain, they would exhaust
their foe and make them easier to repel. Vulso pitched camp five miles away from the mountain,
then instructed his men to prepare many missile weapons, including javelins, arrows, balls
of lead, and stones. The Consul then mustered his cavalry and personally led two scouting
missions up the slopes. On the first sortie, they were accosted and driven back by a vanguard
of Gallic horsemen. On the second, Vulso was able to successfully reconnoitre, discovering
that there were three viable ways to march his army up the mountain: “one at the middle
of the mountain, where the ground was earthy, and two others, both very difficult, one on
the south-east, and the other on the north-west.” After making the appropriate divinations and
sacrifices, Vulso launched his attack, directing his army into three divisions. The Consul
personally led the greatest part of his forces and marched up where the mountain afforded
the easiest ascent. Meanwhile, he ordered his brother, Lucius Manlius, and his subordinate,
Caius Helvius, to carefully climb the far more treacherous south-eastern and north-eastern
slopes. Expecting the Romans to only advance up the facile path, the Galatians sent an
advance guard of 4,000 men to garrison a hill overlooking the main road. Here, they encountered
Vulso’s main contingent, and the battle was joined. Immediately, the Roman velites
and the King of Pergamon’s Cretan archers and slingers began unleashing a barrage of
missiles upon the Gauls. Arrows, javelins and lead balls shredded through them to devastating
effect, for the Gauls had little body armour, and “their shields, long, but too narrow
for the breadth of their bodies, ill-protected them.” When the Gallic vanguard attempted
to charge down the Roman line, their numbers were thinned by more missile fire, then cut
down by the Velite’s swords upon impact. Routed into a panic, the Gauls retreated back
into their camp at the mountain’s summit. Around this time, Lucius Manlius and Caius
Helvius had finished their ascents. All three contingents now closed in on the Galatian
stockade and unleashed hellfire upon it. Javelins, arrows, rocks and lead balls rained upon the
unarmoured and exposed Gauls, alongside their families, who were holed up in their camp
with them. As a rather macabre anecdote, Livy notes that it was only by hearing the wailing
and screaming of their women and children that the Romans knew their missiles were properly
devastating the Galatian warriors. Eventually, once the enemy’s numbers had been properly
thinned out, Vulso ordered the camp to be stormed, and the Romans overran it almost
immediately. The Gauls fled from the stockade and fled down the mountainside in all directions,
but thousands were cut down or captured. All told, in the Battle of Mount Olympus, 10,000
Galatians were slain and 30,000 taken into bondage. Roman casualties were minimal.
Three days after crushing the Tolistobogii and Trocmi, Vulso marched for Mount Magaba
to grind the Tectosages under his heel. The Tectosages sent envoys to the consul, offering
peace and submission, but this proved to be a ploy to make him lower his guard: ambushing
him with a large force of their cavalry while he was proceeding to a diplomatic parley.
Vulso only managed to avoid being captured by the skin of his teeth, with a contingent
of Roman foragers fighting off the Gallic Horsemen. After this, he doggedly proceeded
on to Mount Magaba, where, employing the same tactics he had used at Bithynian Olympus,
he crushed the Tectosage host. After this, total victory belonged to Rome, and the land
of the Gauls in Asia was now de facto under the overlordship of the Republic. After Gnaeus
Manlius Vulso’s triumph… Anatolian Gauls remained nominally independent, but increasingly
bound to the will of Rome. After the Republic absorbed Pergamon in 133BC, the Galatians
became a useful buffer state, who the Romans used to wage a proxy war on their Cappadocian
and Pontic enemies. During the Mithridatic wars, the Galatians were faithful allies to
Pompey the Great in his struggle against the Pontic King Mithridates. In 25BC, after nearly
150 years of gradual Romanization, Galatia was finally annexed and became a province
of the Empire. Now, let us dial the clock back to the 2nd
century BC and return to Northern Italy: With the Alps in Rome’s control, the proverbial
door was open for its legions to march into the region of the Gallic world roughly corresponding
to modern France, the very heart of the Celtic La Tene world. That catalyst for this came
in the form of the Greek city of Massalia, which had a complicated centuries-long relationship
with the Celtic tribes they were surrounded by. By the 2nd century BC, they had also become
close allies and trading partners with the rising star that was Rome, so in 154BC when
the Gallic Salluvii tribe threatened to invade them, the Greeks called for the Roman help.
The Republic was happy for an excuse to send its legions beyond the Alps, and helped defend
Massalia from the Salluvii twice, once in 154 and again in 125. After the second bout,
the Romans ‘magnanimously’ offered to assume control of Massalia’s hinterlands
to protect them from further Gallic incursions. The Greeks, caring more about trade than territorial
integrity, agreed. Meanwhile, the defeated Salluvii King, Toutomotulos,
had fled north to the territory of the Allobroges, who were closely allied to the Arverni. This
gave the Romans the perfect casus belli to pursue an expansionist campaign into the rich
land of these two tribes. Under the pretext of chasing Toutomotulos, they invaded the
territory of the Allobroges and Arverni, and by 121BC had conquered much of southern France.
They incorporated it into their Empire as the province of Transalpine Gaul, which meant
Gaul beyond the Alps, named in juxtaposition to Cisalpine Gaul, Gaul within the Alps.
After the establishment of the Province of Transalpine Gaul, later renamed Gallia Narbonensis,
the frontier between the Celts and the Romans remained relatively stable, and even friendly,
for the better part of a century. One example of this was the Celtic federation of Noricum,
which by the late 2nd century BC had developed a mutually symbiotic relationship with Rome.
The skilled metallurgists of this region provided the Republic with much of the steel they needed
to equip their legions, and in turn, the legions provided them with military protection. Consequently,
when the Germanic Cimbri and Teutones people invaded Noricum in 113BC, the Romans were
quick to defend their Gallic allies. At the turn of the 1st century BC, trade between
Rome and various Celtic tribes had begun to flourish, with a complex system of trade networks
and treaties existing between them. It can be easy to imagine commerce between these
two as a one-sided relationship whereby the barbarous Gauls coveted the riches of the
Romans, but this was not the case. The Gauls profited greatly off Roman wine, but Rome
also had much to gain in Celtic goods, from their excellent metalwork to other radical
Gallic innovations… like the wooden barrel. And soap. Nevertheless, the relationship between
the Latin and Celtic worlds would deteriorate once more in the 50s BC, when a certain Gaius
Julius Caesar became governor of Cisalpine and Transalpine Gaul, setting the stage for
perhaps the single most iconic campaign of conquest in Roman history.
What began, at least on paper, as an expedition to prevent the migration of hostile tribes
into Roman territory soon evolved into the full-scale subjugation of the entire Gallic
heartland, resulting in an immortal duel between the erstwhile Triumvir and the valiant Arverni
Chieftain, Vercingetorix. This is the most famous clash between the Celtic and Roman
worlds, but it is also the one we will devote the least time to in this video, as we have
already made a 90-minute long documentary exhaustively covering it, which we will make
available in the description below. Regardless, we all know how this story ends. When Vercingetorix
rode out of Alesia and threw his arms at the feet of the Roman consul who had defeated
him, the independence of the Gallic world had come to an end.
By the year 50BC, the Gallic world of continental Europe had all but disappeared. The Celtic
territories of Eastern and Central Europe that had not been subsumed by Rome were eventually
replaced by waves of migration by the Dacians, Iranic Sarmatian pastoralists, and early Germanic
tribes. The rest, of course, was now under the shadow of the Imperial Eagles’ wing.
By 50BC, Celtic continental Europe had been brought under the Roman Eagle through no small
cost of blood, but this was not the end of their story. The native Celtic population
still vastly outnumbered the colonial Latin presence, and their still functioning infrastructure
was co-opted into the new Roman system. Major Gallic hillfort sites like Condatum, Lutetia,
Lugdunum, Mediolanum, Serdika, and Ankyra were all turned into Roman towns, as clusters
of wattle and daub houses were replaced with gridded streets, public baths, and gymnasiums.
Despite the new management, these cities still served as the power center of a local Gallic
tribe, much like the old hill forts. Outside of the cities, life did not initially
change much for the Celts. The majority of them had been rural farmers, and under Roman
rule, they lived in the same tribal villages as their ancestors, speaking the same Celtic
languages, and cultivating the same crops. To the Arvernian cooper or the Armorican shepherd,
it must have made little difference whether they paid a portion of their labours to a
torque-wearing chieftain or to a toga-clad governor. As a result, the majority of the
Gallic population would not fully Latinize for centuries.
The assimilation did occur relatively faster among the higher castes as the Romans focused
on controlling their subject peoples from the top down. Many Celtic chieftains had been
regularly interacting with Rome for centuries and had already developed a substantially
Romanized material culture and this process sped up as many Gallic rulers sent their children
off to receive a Roman education. The army served as another vehicle of assimilation,
as Gauls who had been part of the aristocratic warrior caste signed up for the Legion as
auxiliaries, which served as an acceptable substitute to the proud Celtic warrior tradition.
They learned Latin and provided offerings to the Imperial cult shrines present at every
castra fort. Upon their retirement, they earned full Roman citizenship, cementing their integrated
role in Imperial society. Apart from the mandatory observance of the
aforementioned Imperial cult- which held the Roman Emperors as divine beings to be revered,
subject peoples were otherwise free to worship whatever deities they wished, resulting in
Celtic polytheism surviving well into the Imperial era. Romans and Celts drew parallels
between their Gods: the thunder god Taranis was associated with the Roman Jupiter, while
the war-like tribal protector Toutatis was likened to Mars. Some Celtic deities even
became adopted by the Roman population, such as the Horse-Goddess Epona, who became the
patron of equestrians across the Empire. However, there were limits to this cohabitation.
The Druids, for example, were often the target of Roman persecution. Their suppression began
under the reign of Emperor Tiberius, and intensified under Emperor Claudius. Anti-Druidic policies
were usually enacted under the pretext of ending ritual human sacrifice, but realistically,
it was because the Druids threatened Roman control. Indeed, several Gallic rebellions
were attributed to the seeds of discontent that Druids sowed from the shadows. Nevertheless,
theirs was a clandestine order that proved hard to stamp out, and it is exceedingly likely
that for generations, the Druids secretly continued their teachings in hidden caves
and secret forest clearings. During the reign of Claudius, select Gallic
aristocrats were granted the privilege of joining the Roman Senate. Many snobbish senators
protested this move fervently: how could the Emperor allow barbarians to sit amongst their
hallowed ranks? In response, Claudius reminded them matter-of-factly that they themselves
were the descendants of Umbrans, Sabines, and Samnites: Italic tribes the Romans had
conquered and assimilated centuries earlier. To him, the Gauls were simply the latest in
a long line of peoples to be integrated into the grand Imperial project.
From the 3rd century AD, a new faith had taken the Empire by storm; whose practitioners worshipped
a strange Levantine prophet that the Romans themselves had put to death 200 years earlier.
The Christian faith spread rapidly through the provinces, first as a persecuted underground
cult, and then through a remarkable turn of fortunes, the state religion of the Empire.
Imperial opinions towards old gods quickly soured, and by 392 AD, the devoutly Christian
Emperor Theodosius banned all pagan practices entirely. This was probably the death knell
of whatever remained of traditional Celtic polytheism on the continent.
The next century would see the end of the world that the Gallo-Romans had lived under
for generations. After the conquest of the Celts, the Germanic peoples had become the
principal “barbarian” enemy of Rome. For centuries, many of their tribes had traded,
integrated, or more often, warred with Romans along the frontier of the Rhine and Danube
rivers. In many ways, the 400sCE was the Germanic century, as peoples like the Visigoths, Ostrogoths,
Vandals, and Franks took advantage of Imperial decay to pour into Roman territory and carve
out Kingdoms for themselves, thereby bringing an end to the western half of the Empire.
As the Germanic invaders of Europe settled into their newly conquered lands, they found
themselves living amongst the direct descendants of Chieftains and Druids, men who had once
called themselves warriors of the Senones, Insubres, Boii, and Arverni. But these people
had been forever changed. Indeed, by the time the Western Roman Empire collapsed, the Celts
of continental Europe had been under Latin hegemony for over 400 years, and Gaulish culture
had become little more than an echo. Its ancient cults had been replaced by a monotheistic
God from the Levant, and its language slowly declining in favour of the dialects of Vulgar
Latin that would evolve into today’s modern Romance languages. It is possible that the
Gaulish language survived in some isolated mountain villages as late as the 6th century
AD, but as late antiquity transitioned into the middle ages, the Celtic identity had all
but faded away, and a hybrid Germanic-Latin custom would be predominant culture upon which
most of the Kingdoms of Early Medieval Europe were formed.
And yet, the centuries after the fall of Rome did not bring about the extinction of Celtic
culture in Europe, for there remained one foggy island on the edge of the continent
where the native peoples still held to a distinctly Celtic language and identity. Indeed, the
history and ultimate fate of the Celtic Britons is one we have not yet touched upon, for they
stand apart from their continental cousins in two ways: they were never fully conquered
by the Romans, and their indigenous identity outlived the Empire which subjugated them. Thanks again to War Thunder for sponsoring
this video - enter PvP for all skill levels in this massive vehicle combat game on PC
on consoles, and make sure to grab our large free bonus pack with premium features - get
it all via our link down in the description. In our next longform documentary on the ancient
Celtic peoples, we will tell the story of ancient Britain, from the tragic tale of Queen
Boudicca, to the unconquerable Picts and Caledones of the North, to the myths which gave rise
to the story of King Arthur. So stay and make sure you are subscribed and have pressed the
bell button to see it. Recently we have started releasing weekly patron and youtube member-exclusive
videos. Join the ranks of patrons and youtube members via the link in the description or
by pressing the button under the video to watch these weekly videos, learn about our
schedule, get early access to our videos, join our private discord, and much more. Please,
consider liking, commenting, and sharing - it helps immensely. This is the Kings and Generals
channel, and we will catch you on the next one.
