1
Nothing will make a people reexamine their intelligence apparatus faster than a full-blown military disaster. For Rome, that disaster came in 390 bc, when it suffered one of its most famous military defeats at the hands of the Gauls. Sweeping down from northern Italy, a raiding party of the Gallic tribe Senones quickly brushed aside the army that had been sent to bar their way 12 miles north of Rome at the Allia River (Map 1). Although rumors and messengers from the neighboring Etruscans, like the Clusini, had repeatedly warned the Romans of the approaching Gauls, the defenders had barely reached the Allia before the Gauls took them by surprise with the swiftness of the awesome Celtic charge.1 According to the traditional account, the Roman stragglers fled back to the city in such haste that they neglected to close the Colline Gate. The young and physically able took refuge in the Citadel, while the elders of the city chose to stay behind and sacrifice themselves. The Gauls, surprised to find the lower city empty of defenders, sent off patrols around the walls and to the other gates, to find out what the Romans, in their desperate state, could be up to. The Gauls then entered the capital, slaughtered the elder senators who had remained behind, and burned the city to the ground. Only the Capitol held out.2
Map 1 Environs of ancient Rome: The Allia River.
The Romans had barricaded themselves in the Citadel (Map 2), and the Gauls laid a siege that was to last seven months. By watching Roman messengers sneak in and out of the city, the Gauls eventually discovered a cliff-side trail leading up to the stronghold, and on a starlit night began their ascent in an attempt to take the Citadel by surprise. They were detected by neither the many dogs in the city nor by the sleeping Romans. Only the cackling of the geese, sacred to Juno, aroused Marcus Manlius and the city’s defenders, who then drove the invaders off the walls and saved the city from sure and ignominious defeat.3
Map 2 The city of Rome in the Republic: The Capitoline and Citadel.
Had early warning and advance intelligence been an integral part of Rome’s defense system, then this disaster might have been prevented. It was not enough for the Romans just to receive the information; they also had to act on it. Although forewarned of the Gallic attack, they were still surprised by the Gauls; only luck and the bravery of a few individuals saved them from disaster. Rome fought a series of Gallic wars in the fourth century, and it is not clear from the evidence whether they were large-scale attacks or just petty raids by marauding bands operating from within the peninsula. Either way, if Rome was to become the major military power on the Italian peninsula, it would have to learn how to perceive such threats ahead of time, in order to prevent the kind of setback that a full-blown attack on the city would create.4
Without a doubt, the capture and sack of the city left an indelible mark on Roman folk memory. Allia Day, commemorating the battle at the river, became ever after a day of evil omen. Every year, for the next five centuries, a procession was held at which geese were carried on litters of purple and gold – a reward for the service they had rendered as an early warning system – while dogs were impaled or crucified on alder stakes.5 The effect the Gallic defeat had on the Roman psyche manifested itself in very tangible ways. The Senate ordered that a massive stone wall be built around the city, 12-feet thick, 24-feet high, and 5.5 miles in circumference. Perhaps another line of defense, a human line of scouts or signalers to keep themselves informed of enemy movements, was also considered. If it was, there is no evidence of it. Although we see the occasional picket or messenger, news about events such as the approach of the Gauls was typically brought by neighbors and allies. We cannot tell in any great detail how intelligence was gathered, how it was used to prepare against the danger of invasion, or what part it played in Roman decision-making. If we are to believe Livy, when an enemy appeared, the citizens would just scurry from the fields and take refuge behind the city walls.6 Such a “system,” typical though it might have been of many small city-states, could not, in the long term, remain adequate for the home defense of an increasingly belligerent power and its expanding territory.
Lack of primary sources before 200 bc makes it difficult, if not impossible, to say anything more precise about what the Romans of the early Republic did by way of intelligence gathering. Of the ancient authors who wrote about early Rome, Livy and Dionysius of Halicarnassus date to the first century ad, and Frontinus to a century later. Furthermore, the incidents they describe are not accepted as historical by all scholars. Two authors of a recent book on Roman intelligence gathering choose to begin their work at the Second Punic War, considering Livy’s narratives either unreliable because of his lack of military experience or oversimplified.7 Still, such sources constitute the only evidence we have that is suggestive of how the Romans collected intelligence for their political and military needs between 756 and 264 bc. There is no doubt that in spite of the Gallic disaster, Rome’s military power continued to grow inexorably, and its foreign policy became more ambitious as the scope and scale of its military operations continued to increase.8 We cannot assume the Romans did this entirely without a way to collect and use intelligence, both on the battlefield and in the capital. We can fill in the story of the development of their intelligence capabilities by reading the sources we have, then deducing what practices might have produced the outcomes as we know them.
Coupled with the generic problem of determining the historicity of reported events is the more specific difficulty of assessing whether later Roman authors correctly interpreted the contemporary attitudes of earlier generations. Romans of the late Republic liked broadcasting the view that their ancestors had been virtuous, upright people of fides (faith), who abhorred trickery and stratagems. Were they, in truth, morally opposed to activities such as clandestine collection and covert operations? Some modern scholars have even portrayed the Romans as having no familiarity with “devious” mindsets until the Second Punic War, when perfidious eastern ideas were introduced by Hannibal.9 We would be naive to take this portrait at face value. If we accept the notion that there was little or no intelligence activity in early Rome, then we must also ask ourselves why. Was it that, unlike other ancient peoples, the Romans would not operate covertly because they found such behavior repugnant? Did they just find such operations unnecessary? Or did they simply indulge in clandestine operations and then lie about them later? The early Republic of the fifth and fourth centuries bc was facing more than enough threats from the Gauls, the Aequi, the Volsci, and the Etruscans to prompt the development of shrewd defensive instincts. And despite their protests to the contrary, we do find the Romans collecting intelligence and using it in operations to help in their defense. Although we have lost many of the records of their clandestine operations in the same way that we have lost much of early Republican history, we can still reconstruct a plausible narrative of their intelligence activities.10
Intelligence and religion
Intelligence at its oldest and most basic level consisted of religious revelation. The belief that natural phenomena revealed the will of the gods or foretold the future made intelligence and religion two sides of the same coin in primitive cultures. As Allen Dulles observed,
The earliest sources of intelligence, in the age of a belief in supernatural intervention in the affairs of men, were prophets, seers, oracles, soothsayers and astrologers. Since the gods knew what was going to happen ahead of time, having to some extent ordained the outcome of events, it is logical to seek out the divine intention in the inspiration of holy men, in the riddles of oracles, in the stars, and often in dreams.11
Rome’s religious beliefs were tied in closely with their agricultural cycles. The Romans were typical farmers: conservative, cautious, with a taste for simplicity and strong religious convictions. Rain and sun were in the hands of the gods, and the Roman farmers lived in fear of incurring their displeasure. Thus, when they finally realized that some form of foreknowledge – intelligence – had to be acquired, they turned to their traditional comforts: the gods and livestock.
The Romans went even further than most ancient peoples to insure that divine approval was given for their wars. Many types of divination, especially the reading of the auspices, were used to determine the appropriate course of action in both political and military situations. Augury, or taking the auspices, meant observing the flights of birds and interpreting their position and cries as having a particular import. Public auspices, performed by magistrates with the proper authority, were taken on solemn state occasions, such as before the founding of a colony or before the declaration of war.12 A magistrate, accompanied by one of the members of the college of fifteen augurs, would take his seat in the open and watch for a sign. In Rome, there was a special site, the auguraculum on the Capitol, that was reserved for this purpose.13 In some cases magistrates went to great lengths to avoid knowing what the gods wished; Marcus Claudius Marcellus supposedly drove to battle in a covered wagon so as not to see unfavorable signs.14
On military campaigns, if wild birds were not available, the sacred chickens were carried along and consulted by special chicken handlers called pullarii. To consult the sacred chickens, the cage was opened and a cake of grain was thrown in front of them. It was a bad sign if the chickens would not eat or behaved petulantly, but if they gobbled it up and bits fell from their beaks (or, as the Romans would say, “if the grain danced”), then the undertaking had divine approval.15
There are many examples of such consultations; both ancient and modern opinion varies as to how seriously these signs were taken. For those who believed in them, the human interpretation of signs had as much if not more effect than the will of the gods in sending the signs.16 Those who, like Cicero, did not believe in them, felt the state religion was based on false perceptions about the nature of things – though it should be maintained for the sake of the welfare of the state.17 While both outlooks were coexistent in Roman society, official state practice still retained these rites for a very long period of its history, and this great power of interpretation was fully incorporated into the governmental apparatus. Official divination never became disreputable, and never descended to quack horoscopes. The same men who were empowered to interpret signs from the birds also sat in the Senate, held magistracies, and made major policy decisions. Often both leaders and followers needed reassurance that they were doing the right thing. And if the Romans, to our modern eyes, put too much faith in the auspices, perhaps it was because they, not unlike us, often had a need for certainty in an uncertain world.
Certainly it would not have been long before a practical commander, saddled with a useless and archaic ritual he could not publicly ignore, would choose instead to rely on hard intelligence while keeping a facade of religious observance.18 Not to do so would tempt fate and offend the more conservative elements around him. Livy tells of a frustrated P. Claudius Pulcher, who, before the Battle of Drepanum in 249 bc, during the First Punic War, was anxious to engage in combat, but the chickens would not eat. Impatiently, he threw them into the water saying, “Well then, let them drink.”19 He thus defied the gods in a blasphemous manner, giving rise to a very real danger that his soldiers would lose their confidence, because they undoubtedly did believe in the signs and would hence move into action haunted by premonitions of evil.20 In any event, Pulcher’s army was defeated, making his fate a vindication of the omen.21
Religious signs could also be used as a means of manipulating the troops, as well as the political leaders. “Cooking intelligence” is a timeless practice. Collectors of intelligence, even in antiquity, knew what their leaders wanted to hear. We see magistrates underfeeding the sacred chickens in order to produce “favorable signs.”22 During the Samnite Wars in the late fourth century bc, a pullarius took the auspices knowing full well that the commander and the army were anxious to fight. Even though the chickens would not eat, the priest claimed that the auspices were favorable. When a deserter provided the information that twenty cohorts of Samnites were approaching, the Romans marched out to battle buoyed up by the knowledge that the gods were on their side. Along the way, a dispute broke out among the chicken handlers concerning the falsified report. A Roman cavalryman overheard the argument and reported it to the consul, Papirius, who thanked the cavalryman for his diligence but had no intention of changing the battle plans. “As for me,” said the consul, “I was told that the grain had danced; it is an excellent omen for the Roman people and the army.” He then ordered the centurions to position the chicken handlers in the front ranks. When the battle began, a random javelin struck the chicken keeper and he fell dead before the standards. Papirius believed that the gods were thus present at the battle, and that the guilty wretch had paid the penalty for falsifying the auspices. As proof of this, a raven flew in front of the consul and uttered a clear cry – another favorable sign from heaven that the gods were pleased.23 Victory followed. Again, we may doubt the historicity of the tale, but it shows that the Romans of Livy’s day were plainly aware of the dangerous prospect that some intelligence collectors might be inclined to say whatever their superiors wanted to hear.
There were other forms of divination, for predicting the outcome of military engagements as well as for political purposes. Inspecting the entrails of sacrificial animals for signs from the gods was frequently performed before battles. Best known is the so-called disciplina Etrusca, which involved the reading of livers (hepatoscopy) by Etruscan priests called haruspices (sing, haruspex, literally “gut-gazer”).24 Entrails were interpreted by the color, markings and shape of the liver and gall bladder. We even have a bronze model of a liver from Piacenza that was used in the training of haruspices (see Illus. 1).25 Perhaps because these imported “specialists” remained a somewhat alien group in Rome, they took particular care to prophesy what their patrons most likely wanted to hear.26 Anyway, the haruspices were consulted at key points in republican history.
Illus. 1 The Piacenza liver. Reproduced courtesy of the Deutsches Archaeologiches Institut, Rome.
Consulting the Sibylline books was another way of finding out why things were going wrong with the state. The Greek city of Cumae was the home of the Sybil, Apollo’s inspired priestess, whose oracle was known in Rome. A collection of her responses, written in Greek, was made and consulted when a crisis threatened Rome. The earliest collection of Sibylline oracles seems to have been made around 500 bc, at the beginning of the Republic. Their contents were “classified,” and they were kept in a stone chest beneath the temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, guarded in strictest secrecy by a special college of two priests.27 The oracles were consulted only by command of the Senate in time of war, disaster, or similarly grave national emergency.
However seriously the Romans may have taken their own religious practices, Roman commanders could be quite cynical in exploiting other people’s religious observances to their tactical advantage. We are told that a Roman expeditionary force marched into Samnium in 293 bc while the enemy troops were preoccupied with their “superstitious rites,” and that they took the town of Amiternum by assault.28 Evidently good advice only came from Roman gods.
Scouting and reconnaissance
Whatever “intelligence” may have been provided by religious “sources,” any level-headed commander in the field knew that scouting and reconnaissance were the only sensible means of collecting the intelligence needed to promote success in battle and the survival of the troops. In other words: trust in the Gods, but Verify. In the earliest days, when Roman consuls were the sole directors and intelligence gatherers for their armies, we see them relying on basic reconnaissance skills. Livy is replete with examples. During the Etruscan Wars of the third century bc, Aemilius Papus was about to order his army to a plain near the town of Vetulonia, when he saw a flock of birds suddenly rise up in flight from a distant forest. Realizing the enemy was probably lurking there, he dispatched scouts ahead and discovered 10,000 Boii, a Gallic tribe, lying in ambush. He defeated them by sending his legions around from an unexpected direction.29 Reconnaissance based on the observation of flora and fauna was certainly a credible technique even during the earliest periods of Roman history.
As the Roman Army grew larger and more sophisticated, the commanders kept themselves informed by detailing scouts, named by Livy exploratores and speculatores.30 In later usage exploratores would be specifically cavalry scouts, while speculatores were intelligence couriers and other clandestine agents. In Livy, however, the terms are often interchangeable.31 In a first-century Greek source like Dionysius of Halicarnassus, the word for spy, kataskopos, is used throughout.32 Both institutions were first discussed by Caesar, but he does not indicate when and how they came about.33 It is safe to assume that these concepts had developed much earlier, though it is impossible to determine the dates of their genesis with any accuracy. Livy, writing later in the first century ad, mentions speculatores being employed at the time of the war with the Aequi, and there are references to scouts operating in the wars with the Samnites.34 A classic example of a commander being caught between the requirements of religious practice and the opportunity to act on good intelligence, comes during the Etruscan Wars in 325 bc. The sacred chickens had been consulted, but the first reading was ambiguous. While the auspices were being taken a second time, Quintus Fabius deployed his scouts. Indeed, so stealthily did the Romans scout the forest terrain, that they caught the Samnite soldiers without weapons. Fabius did not wait for the result of the second reading. He struck so quickly that the Samnites were unable to regroup or rearm; they were completely routed.35
The evident correlation between operational success and the use of scouting and reconnaissance had probably been always recognized instinctively by Roman military commanders. Not until the days of Caesar, however, do we have a detailed account of these techniques being applied methodically. Still, it does not take much imagination to realize that those skills, even in more ancient times, had to be acquired and constantly practiced. Tactically, there can be no substitute for reconnaissance patrols, which can warn of an ambush or explore opportunities for taking advantage of the enemy’s weaknesses. Strategically, this entails knowledge of when the enemy will come, how it will be armed, what its strength will be, and how it will strike. Needless to say, rumor-mongering and propaganda campaigns were just as common in Roman times as in any other period in the history of human conflict. Verification of enemy numbers and location would obviously spell the difference between a target-ignorant, hesitant army and a well-informed, confident one.36 The Romans were perpetually at war in their early years, and they would not have survived, let alone expanded their dominion, had they not learned to watch and size up their enemies. Does it not follow, then, that they had to be better at intelligence gathering than the tales of Livy would imply? Enemies of Rome were not ordinarily inferior to the Romans in either weapon technology, tactics, or numbers; some were even superior in certain respects. It is not logically conceivable that Rome would have won so consistently, over several centuries, if it had no intelligence capabilities with which to offset its weaknesses.
Time and time again in Livy’s version of early Roman history the city is saved not by advance intelligence or clever planning, but by the bravery of a Roman hero who comes to the defense of the city. We see such a hero appear when the Etruscans were trying to reestablish a king in Rome after they were expelled in 509 bc. Lars Porsenna of Clusium made a lightning advance southwards, hoping to take the city by surprise. Although a fort had been built on the Janiculum, a hill on the Etruscan side of the Tiber, the Romans were still caught off-guard. The Etruscans stormed the Janiculum and moved toward the bridge spanning the Tiber. They would have captured the city had it not been for the bravery of one Roman, Horatius Codes (Macaulay’s Horatius at the Bridge), who single-handedly stopped the Etruscan onslaught, giving his friends time to demolish the bridge, after which he swam across the river in full armor.37 This narrative is certainly a lovely heroic myth, but how long would the Romans have lasted had this really been their “defense system”?
Sources: prisoners, traitors, deserters, and exiles
From what sources should we expect the Romans to have obtained their intelligence? Although we have very few specific references, the Romans naturally had ample opportunity to receive information from prisoners of war, deserters, and exiles. If a suitable source was not readily available, the Romans were quite capable of resorting to radical, positive action, which was often coercive. Cato the Censor, for example, once ordered 300 soldiers to attack an enemy post in order to capture a soldier, who would be tortured for information.38
Once obtained, intelligence had to be verified – especially if volunteered by a traitor who might be attempting a provocation. During the siege of Nequinum in 299 bc, two men from the city dug a tunnel to the Roman outposts. They offered to take the Roman soldiers into the city clandestinely. The Romans had to ascertain the bona fides of the traitors for, as they said, “it was not thought wise to spurn this offer, nor yet rashly to confide in it.”39 They decided to hold one of the men hostage and send the other, accompanied by two Roman scouts, through the tunnel. Only when it had been determined that the tunnel was not a trap did the Romans move 300 soldiers through it and take the city by surprise. Similarly, intelligence conveyed by foreign envoys was carefully scrutinized. Envoys from Tusculum were referred to as spies who “brought them idle stories.”40 Gone were the days when countryfolk would come rushing through the city gates, frantically exaggerating descriptions of the enemy and panicking the burghers.41
Spies
Spies, or clandestine agents, are mentioned even less frequently than scouts, but we must consider the possibility that this was because the clandestine nature of their work resulted in the absence of documented evidence. One of the earliest instances of covert collection on record is the scheme of Q. Fabius Maximus, who employed his brother Fabius Caeso as a spy because he spoke fluent Etruscan. Caeso was disguised as a farm laborer with a peasant’s tools to match, hooks, and a couple of spears. Having observed that the Umbrians of Camerinum were not hostile, Caeso brought them into alliance with the Romans. The novelty of this venture was not just in Caeso’s disguise and foreign-language skills, but also in the fact that the Romans had never gone to the Ciminian Forest (see Map 3) before, and were thus not expected to be out there on a sensitive mission. As Rome began to take over the Italian peninsula, such bilingual agents would play an increasingly important role. Although Frontinus describes this era in the fourth century bc as a time “when shrewd methods of reconnoitering were still unknown to Roman leaders,” we may guess that he was not entirely correct.42
Map 3 Environs of Rome: Camerinum and the Ciminian Forest.
We have very little other evidence to suggest that Roman agents penetrated neighboring tribes. Even later collections of military stratagems, like those of Frontinus, mention few if any instances of clandestine operations that predate the Second Punic War. We do have evidence that the Romans understood the concept of subversion, although the classic example of subversive action to overthrow a government is attributed by Livy to a foreigner. The Etruscan king of Rome, Tarquinius Superbus, is vilified in Roman sources for resorting to a policy of trickery and deceit that is reprehensibly “un-Roman.”43 Tarquinius clandestinely sent his son into the city of Gabii by having him pretend to defect. After reaching a position of power and trust, the son was able to deliver the Gabii over to his father without a battle. Such an “outrage” is, for Livy’s part, in stark contrast to the way a Roman ruler or commander is expected to act. Similarly, Volscian envoys attempted to deceive the Romans, but were caught.44 They are accused of coming as “ambassadors in name, but… spies in reality.” The only thing that kept the Roman soldiers from stoning the spies to death was a warning that doing so would put Rome’s ambassadors in danger. Exceptions to the Livian ideal of a Roman “no-tricks” policy would presumably be made in the last extremity, when all conventional military efforts to take an enemy city had failed and subterfuge was required. Direct attack was thought best, but on occasion the Romans might “stoop” to digging tunnels or to coopting traitors from within the city itself.45
Nor was there an absence of political espionage and counterespionage. Political factions had their agents, and any individual, even a slave, could find him or herself in possession of information that might be useful to the state. In the early years of the fledgling Republic, the Tarquinii, recently expelled rulers of Rome, allegedly made contact with a group of young Roman nobles who favored the restoration of the monarchy. These aristocrats plotted with agents of the Tarquins who were in Rome negotiating over the disposition of their former property in the city. A slave at the house of one of these conspirators got wind of the plot, but wisely waited until the traitorous nobles had exchanged letters with the foreign agents, thus providing written proof of their complicity. The slave then reported them to the consuls, who crushed the plot and had the guilty parties incarcerated.46
Diversion, deception, and disinformation
Diversionary feints held a firm place in the modus operandi of Roman armies since the earliest times. Common forms of deception included feints, ambushes, disinformation, and concealment. One stratagem frequently mentioned in Roman sources has a commander arrange for a detachment of soldiers (or noncombatants) to appear in the enemy’s rear before or during the battle, sounding trumpets or stirring up a dust cloud to create the impression that reinforcements were approaching 47 Another classic ruse has the Romans feigning a strike at one location, but launching their main attack elsewhere.48 The dissemination of false information, thereby luring the enemy into a trap, was also a well-understood concept.49 Disinformation could even be used against their own troops. Shortly after defeating the Samnites in 342 bc, the Roman soldiers in winter quarters at Capua hatched a plot to take that city away from the Campanians. The new consul, Gaius Marcius Rutulus, discovered a secret cabal through his tribunes. To thwart the scheme, he spread the story that the garrisons would again winter in the same town the following year, thereby leading the conspirators to believe that they had ample time to plan their sedition. As execution of the plot was thus delayed, the troublemakers were slowly being transferred, furloughed, or detained at Rome.50
Rome in transition
In the period between 509 and 264 bc, Rome’s intelligence-gathering capabilities were primitive but definitely in evidence. It seems clear then that in spite of later moralizing by Latin historians, the Romans did rely on advance intelligence to detect enemies, ambush them, trick them, and ultimately defeat them. We will never know the names of the spies who collected this information, but traces of their operations have not been entirely erased. Already in the early days of the Republic, Roman armies made effective use of spies and scouts. As primitive as their system was, it was enough to achieve surprise for their own forces and to deny surprise to the enemy.51 Military intelligence was limited to a tactical or operational role, and the central government in Rome maintained no centralized intelligence organization. The Romans had developed only the rudimentary skills and minimal personnel to gather the kinds of intelligence they needed, and from time to time there were intelligence failures. As major changes occurred within the Roman Army and in the administration of the Roman state, intelligence became only one of many areas that needed improvement. The more extensive the territory Rome acquired and governed, the heavier the demands became that weighed upon its military forces and upon its decision-making machinery, both of which were beginning to prove inadequate. Reforms always seemed to lag behind new requirements. The lack of an organized intelligence-gathering apparatus to facilitate military operations and political decision-making, as well as the absence of a communications network to transmit information, would continue to be a handicap.
Notes
1. For an idea of what Gallic warriors of the Celtic La Tène Iron Age looked like, see P. Wilcox, Rome’s Enemies: Gallic and British Celts (London: Osprey, 1985). Dio Cassius writes: “Panic-stricken by the unexpectedness of the invaders’ expedition, by their number, by the huge size of their bodies, and by the strange and terrifying sound of their voices, they forgot their training in military science and hence lost the use of their valor” (Roman History 7.3).
2. For an excellent account of the Gallic catastrophe and discussion of the archaeological evidence, see T.J. Cornell, The Beginnings of Rome (New York: Routledge, 1995), pp. 313–22.
3. The story is related in Livy 5.37–49. A suspiciously similar account of the siege of Sardis by Cyrus is recorded in Herodotus 1.85. There is no general agreement on whether the story is historical or legendary. See for example, N. Horsfall, “From History to Legend, M. Manlius and the Geese,” CJ 76 (1981), pp. 298–311 and the contrary view by R.M. Ogilvie, A Commentary on Livy Books 1–5 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965), p. 734, who finds the story of Manlius and the geese “the authentic stuff of history.” For examples of geese being used as guard animals in antiquity, see Aristotle, HA 4886b23, who refers to geese as “cautious and watchful”; Aeneas Tacticus 22.20; Aelian, On Animals 12.23; Vegetius 4.26; Pliny, HN 10.51. Geese have been used by the US Army as guard animals in Germany and Vietnam.
4. Polybius presents these attacks as large-scale invasions. Historians draw on Livy and paint a picture of razzias. See. Cornell, Beginnings of Rome, p. 325 and n. 86.
5. Serv. Dan. ad Aen. 8.652; Plutarch, Fort. Rom. 325d; Augustine, City of God 2.22; Cicero, pro Sex. Roscio, 56; Ovid, Meta. 8.684; Columella, de re rustica 8.13; Pliny, HN 29.57.
6. Livy 1.14. See R.M. Ogilvie, A Commentary on Livy Books I-V (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965), p. 81 on the nonhistoricity of the wars with Fidenae and Veii.
7. N.J.E. Austin and N.B. Rankov, Exploratio (New York: Routledge, 1995), p. 2. Ogilvie, Commentary, p. 81 deems these battles the unhistorical inventions of Roman annalists. Cf. pp. 117–18, 152, 205, 261, 388, 569, 579–80, 585–9, 624–5, 728.
8. See Cornell, Beginnings of Rome, p. 325; for Rome’s aggressive attitude, see R.J. Rowland, “Rome’s Earliest Imperialism,” Latomus 42 (1983), pp. 749–62.
9. For this view, see G. Brizzi, I sistemi informativi dei Romani (Wiesbaden: F. Steiner, 1982), pp. 8–37, 56–77, 87, 269–73. Contra E.L. Wheeler, Stratagem and the Vocabulary of Military Trickery (Leiden: Brill, 1988), p. x, and J. Briscoe’s review of Brizzi in Journal of Roman Studies 73 (1983), pp. 205–6.
10. The traditional belief is that the scarcity of documentary sources for early Roman history is due to their destruction at the hands of the Gauls. Cornell, Beginnings of Rome, believes (p. 318) that this is a “false solution to a non-existent problem.”
11. A. Dulles, The Craft of Intelligence (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), p. 9; more recently, see R.D. Sawyer, The Tao of Spycraft. Intelligence Theory and Practice in Traditional China (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1998), pp. 75 and 529 on the use of religious sources by the Chinese and Sun Tzu’s criticism of such techniques.
12. Livy 5.17.3; 5.31.8; 5.46.11; 6.5.6; 6.41.5; 7.1.6; 22.1.7; 41.16.5.
13. R.M. Ogilvie, The Romans and their gods in the Age of Augustus (New York: Norton, 1969), p. 56.
14. Cicero, de Div. 2.77; Pliny, HN, 28.4.17: “in the teaching of the augurs it is a fundamental principle that neither evil omens nor any auspices affect those who at the outset of the undertaking declare that they take no notice of them” W.H.S. Jones translation, Loeb Classical Library edition.
15. See Livy, Per. 19, and Cicero, de Natura deorum 2.7. On the role of diviners in the Republic, see J. North, “Diviners and Divination at Rome,” in M. Beard and J. North (eds), Pagan Priests, Religion and Power in the Ancient World (London: Duckworth, 1990), pp. 51–71; H.H. Scullard, Festivals and Ceremonies of the Roman Republic (London: Thames Hudson, 1981), p. 27 and plate 6, which shows the sacred chickens depicted on aes signatum.
16. H.D. Jocelyn, “The Roman Nobility and the Religion of the Republican State,” Journal of Religious History 4 (1966/67), pp. 102–3.
17. Cicero, de Div. 2.148. Ironically, Cicero, although an augur himself, wrote his work On Divination to disprove the efficacy of divination.
18. By the first century bc military auspices were no longer taken because most commanders by then were promagistrates (acting in the place of magistrates), not magistrates, so they had no right to take the auspices. Instead, military divination became closely connected with the ritual sacrifice, and extipicium (reading of entrails) became prominent.
19. Cicero, De natura deorum 2.7: ut biberent quoniam esse nollent.
20. Livy, Per. 19 says they were thrown into the Tiber. Thiel says they were thrown into the sea at Drepanum: J.H. Thiel, A History of Roman Sea-Power before the Second Punic War (Amsterdam: North Holland Publishing, 1954), p. 274. In all likelihood, the incident is apocryphal.
21. As a source that does not believe in bird magic, Polybius 1.50–51 claims that Pulcher lost because he failed to maneuver correctly.
22. Cicero, de Div. 1.28.2.73.
23. Livy 10.40.12.
24. Julius Obsequens 9, 17, 55. See G. Dumezil, Archaic Roman Religion (Chicago, IC: University of Chicago Press, 1976), vol. 2, appendix, pp. 625–96 for full discussion and bibliography. They came to rival and overlap the role of the augurs, although they technically had no religious authority in Rome and were probably not organized into a college until the empire. The college (ordo haruspicium) of 60 haruspices was headed by a chief haruspex. Haruspicy continued well into the time of Theodosius II (ad 408–50) and continued to be discussed as late as the sixth century.
25. See L. Bouke van der Meer, The Bronze Liver from Piacenza: Analysis of a Polytheistic Structure (Amsterdam: J.C. Gieben, 1987).
26. Harris, War and Imperialism, p. 122 finds it suspicious that the haruspices announced favorable readings in 200 bc before the war with Philip V of Macedon (Livy 31.5.7), again on the eve of the war against Antiochus (Livy 36.1.3), before the Third Macedonian War (42.20.4), and yet again in the following year (42.30.9). On the status of haruspices in Rome in general, see W.V. Harris, Rome in Etruria and Umbria (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971), pp. 194–5.
27. The temple and chest were destroyed by fire in 83 bc. A new collection of oracles was made in 76 bc from different copies in many places. These new Sibylline books were transferred by Augustus to the temple of Apollo on the Palatine Hill in 12 bc. They were still consulted in the first century ad, but not to the same degree as they had been in the Republic. See Harris, War and Imperialism, p. 154, and Dictionary of Roman Religion (New York: Facts on File, 1996), pp. 203–4.
28. Livy 10.39.2.
29. Frontinus 1.2.7 confuses Aemilius Papus, consul of 282 and 278 bc, with Aemilius Paulus – as does Pliny, HN 3.138.
30. Exploratores in Livy 7.36.11; 8.17.7; 8.30.3; 10.10.3; 10.17.1.
31. In Livy 30.4.6 and 30.4.12, the words speculatores and exploratores appear within a few lines of each other, referring to the same spies sent into the camp of Syphax. See F.G. Moore’s note on p. 380 of the Loeb edition.
32. Dion, of Hal. 9.61.4, 463 bc Fabius using scouts against the Aequi; Volscian scouts in 8.86.2 and 6.15.3; Roman scouts detecting a Volscian approach 8.82.2; Cavalry scouts 8.37.2.; Marcius in Fidenae 3.40.4.
33. Our earliest references are in Caesar. Inscriptional evidence, of course, tends to date from the imperial period; see CIL 2.4122, 4143, 4145 from the Leg VII Gemina, CIL 3.4843, 5223, 4452, 3524, 4317, 4803, 3021, 1914 Legio X Gemina; CIL 5.7164, 2832; CIL 6.2453, 2528, 2607, 2743, 2755, 2779, 2792, 2796, 3358, 3607, 3629, 3891, 32716, 37235, 32661, 36775; CIL 8.2603, 2793, 2890, 2984, 4381 111 Augusta-, CIL 10.6674; CIL 13.1869, 8299, 6721, 6884, 1732.
34. For the early use of speculatores in Livy, see: 3.40.13; 4.32.10; 4.46.9; 9.23.3; 21.53.11.
35. Website: Ibid., 8.30.3.
36. This worked both ways. In the taking of Sora the Romans spread the rumor that large numbers of them had taken the Citadel. The magistrates of the city dispatched scouts to investigate, but heard only the rumors. The magistrates relinquished all hopes of regaining the Citadel. Livy 9.24.10; 13.1869, 8299, 6721, 6884, 1732. For the early use of speculatores, see: 3.40.13; 4.32.10; 4.46.9; 9.23.3; 21.53.11; 8.30.3. and 7.36.1 both use exploratores. See also 9.45.17, where the Romans found a deserted enemy camp and discovered through scouts (per exploratores) what the enemy was planning. Cf. 5.39.3; 8.17.7; 9.24.11; 10.17.1; 22.15.3; 24.40.10. 25.15.11.
37. Website: Ibid., 2.10.1–13.
38. 195 bc in Spain, Frontinus 1.2.5. Cf. Plutarch, Cato Maior 13, which attributes the stratagem to Cato at Thermopylae four years later.
39. Livy 10.10.3 (exploratores). B.O. Foster translation, Loeb Classical Library edition.
40. Website: Ibid., 3.40.13 B.O. Foster translation, Loeb Classical Library edition.
41. Website: Ibid., 3.3.1. 464 bc.
42. 310 bc. Frontinus 1.2.2. C.E. Bennett translation, Loeb Classical Library. Cf. Livy 9.36.
43. Livy 1.53–4; Dion. Hal. 4.55–58. Ogilvie, Commentary, p. 205 shows the details of this episode as being taken from two stories in Herodotus: (3.154) Zopyrus and the capture of Babylon; and (5.92.6) the communication between Thrasyboulos and Periander. Ogilvie also comments on how Dionysius of Halicarnassus does not have Livy’s prim patriotism.
44. Dion, of Hal. 6.16.1.
45. See the taking of Veii: Plutarch, Camillus, 5–6; cf. Livy 4.19–22; Dion. Hal. 12.13–14; 13.3; Zonaras 7.21; Florus 1.6; Orosius 2.19. The taking of Fidenae in Livy 4.22 and Florus 1.6 is thought by some to be a doublet of the more celebrated surprises of Veii. H. Last, CAH, vol. 7, pp. 507–9; Ogilvie, Commentary, p. 569. The taking of an Etruscan city by means of an underground passage was a story remembered more for the stratagem than for the locality.
46. Livy 2.4.
47. Livy 7.14.6–15.8; Frontinus 2.4.1–3, 5–6, 20. This was done by Marius at Aquae Sextiae, Frontinus 3.9.3, and by other generals, Frontinus 3.5–6, 10. Caesar, BG 7.14.1, used it at Gergovia. Cf. Xenophon, Mag. eq. 5.8; Polyaenus 3.9.32; Onasander 22.2.
48. Front. Strat. 2.4.1–3, 5–6, 20; 3.9.3, 5–6, 10; Livy 7.14.6–15.8; E. Wheeler, Stratagem and the Vocabulary of Military Trickery (Leiden: Brill, 1988), p. 40.
49. For the use of disinformation on their own troops, see Frontinus 1.2.2, and Vegetius 3.4.47.
50. Livy 7.38–39.
51. Ferrill, Roman Imperial Grand Strategy, p. 25.