The Golden Age of the Gauls · ANTIQUITY
The main chapter presented the alliance forged between Hannibal and several Gaulish peoples during the crossing of the Alps in 218 BC, and their participation in the great Carthaginian victories of the Second Punic War. This zoom sheds light on a lesser-known aspect of this relationship: part of the Gaulish world of northern Italy had already risen against Rome before Hannibal even arrived, the alliance itself rested on a very real mutual distrust, and its consequences extend, two years later, to one of the worst military disasters Rome ever suffered.
As early as the summer of 218 BC, before Hannibal had even crossed the Alps, the Boii and the Insubres rise up against Rome at the mere news of his approach: their territory had just been cut into by the founding, that same year, of the Latin colonies of Placentia and Cremona, right on the edge of their lands. The Boii capture three Roman commissioners, including Gaius Servilius Geminus, sent to oversee the founding of these colonies, and lay siege to Placentia.
The praetor Lucius Manlius Vulso is sent to their rescue at the head of a legion, but neglects to reconnoitre his route through wooded country: his army is ambushed twice, loses more than a thousand men and six standards, and is forced to entrench itself in the fortified village of Tannetum, which is in turn besieged. A second praetor, Gaius Atilius, has to be sent to relieve him. This episode, entirely independent of Hannibal’s campaign, shows that the Gaulish peoples of northern Italy were already acting on their own initiative — a fact that nuances the image of an alliance entirely instigated or directed by the Carthaginian general.
According to Livy, the initial enthusiasm of some Gauls for the Carthaginian cause — driven by hopes of plunder — quickly turns to resentment, as their own territory becomes the main theatre of the fighting and their lands are ravaged by the passage of both armies. Several Gaulish chiefs are said to have then plotted against Hannibal’s very life. The general, informed of these conspiracies by Gauls who denounced one another — according to Livy, as readily as they had formed their plots — is said to have then taken to frequently changing his clothes and wigs to make himself unrecognizable and foil any assassination attempt.
This anecdote, even if partly a literary construction typical of Roman historiography — always inclined to stress the legendary fickleness of the Gauls — nonetheless reveals an underlying reality already perceptible in the main chapter: the Gaulish alliance was never a loyal and unconditional submission to the Carthaginian cause, but a partnership of interest, fragile and reversible, including against Hannibal himself.
Two years later, after the Roman disaster at Cannae, the Boii, who had remained under arms since their revolt of 218 BC, set a meticulously prepared ambush for a Roman legion led by the consul-elect Lucius Postumius Albinus, as it crosses the forest of Silva Litana, about a hundred kilometres northwest of Ariminum. The Boii had beforehand cut into the trees lining the road along its entire length, so that they still stood upright but would collapse at the slightest impact: as the Roman column passes, they topple the notched trunks along the edge of the convoy, causing a chain collapse that crushes and scatters the entire army.
Of some 25,000 men, only a handful of survivors manage to escape; Postumius himself is killed, and the Boii, according to Livy, turn his skull into a gilded ceremonial cup, used in their religious rites. This disaster, with no direct link to Hannibal himself, nonetheless extends the same dynamic observed since 218 BC: the Gaulish peoples of northern Italy wage, alongside or on the margins of the Punic war, their own war against Rome — a local and autonomous initiative, not a mere delegation of Carthaginian strategy.