A civilization's first battlefield encounter with the Gauls tended to be a memorable one. We only know a few such examples, the invasion of Greece in 280-279 BC, the present TWAW topic, some vague references to a devastating attack by Gauls on the Etruscans of North Italy, and some even more vague references to their attacks on the Thracians and Getai.
In 387 BC (often given as 390 BC following the Varronian calendar), a large group of Gauls, the tribe of the Senones, under the leadership of Brennos invaded Etruria, to the north of Latium. Their attack on Etruria coincided with other attacks being launched against the crumbling Etrurian state--at that same moment a large Roman army had invested the major Etrurian city of Veii. The Gauls under Brennos hoped to seize a piece of the Etruscan pie. They attacked Clusium, a city that lacked any major allies, and so seemed a wise target.
The people of Clusium, though they had no friendly relationship with Rome, sent envoys to Rome begging for help. The Romans, already engaged in a project of seizing parts of Etruria for themselves, seized on this opportunity and sent a delegation to negotiate between the two parties. In the negotiation, it is said that a haughty Roman slew a Gallic chieftain. At that sign of disrespect, the Senones lifted the seige of Clusium and marched on Rome. This parallels nicely with the stories of the Gallic invasion of Greece, where the haughty Ptolemy Keraunos, king of Makedonia, treated the negotiation-minded Gallic chieftains like fools, and in so doing invited a devastating invasion of Makedonia. Both stories likely contain a bit of moralizing invention "if you're haughty with your power, young prince, the Gallic bogey-monsters will descend on and devour you."
The Senones pushed toward Rome, and the city quickly mustered its fighting force to face the invading army. They met on the banks of the stream Allia, on the banks of the Tiber, about 10 miles from Rome. The invaders were estimated at either 30 or 70 thousand, the former number being remotely possible if we include non-combatants, but both--and especially the latter--likely contain exaggeration. The Romans mobilized several legions (depending on the sources there could have been 2 or 4 mustered for the battle), and likely numbered between 10 and 20 thousand fighting men. In the early 4th century, we should not imagine these Roman soldiers looking like the uniformly equipped and heavily armored legionaries of the Imperial age. The core of the Roman army, and the center of its battle-line at Allia, were the hoplites of the lower nobility and middle class. They formed a dense formation (the phalanx) in the Greek style, and carried the round aspis rather than the Roman scutum. The rest of the army, which likely accounted for more than 50 percent of its total, were the lower land-holding classes, armed as skirmishers and light spearmen.
The Romans extended their line from the banks of either the Allia or the Tiber, across to a small hillock, hoping that by laying their wings against those topographical features they would prevent attempts by the Gauls to outflank them. The downside to this stratagem was that it thinned the line, and according to Livy, the Romans actually had to use their reserves to be able to secure the hillock. So, with their hoplite phalanx likely as little as 4 ranks deep, they went to battle, awaiting the Gallic attack.
According to Livy's account, it seems that the Gauls advanced their soldiers within charging distance from the Roman line, but then paused. Brennos had seen the reserve soldiers gathered on the higher ground. Fearing that they might charge onto his flank or rear when he committed his leading companies against the Roman phalanx, he halted the rest of his army within range of the Romans and concentrated an assault on the reserves. So across most of the battle line, soldiers likely skirmished at distance with one another, and brazen Celtic warriors may have stepped forward to challenge Roman warriors to ritualistic single combat. That situation could have lasted for some time.
It didn't. The Gallic attack on the hill proved successful, their ferocity overwhelmed the Roman reserves and the Gauls gained the elevated position overlooking the whole Roman line of battle. with this tactical advantage, the whole Gallic army began its surge forward. Up to that time, most Roman combat had been against other hoplite armies, like those of the Etruscans, or armies of light and medium spearmen, like those of other states in Latium. The Gauls charged the Roman lines with brightly painted shields, fierce war cries, raised swords, and many a disconcertingly nude body. Their wild charge, size, and fierceness quickly overwhelmed the morale of the Roman wings, which are said to have faltered at contact. It is possible that they never even came to blows, but set immediately to flight.
The Roman phalanx seems to have held its ground, though. With stronger armor and better morale--many of the soldiers would have been veterans of a number of other wars, for Rome went to war on a yearly basis then, and lacked the manpower for the men who constituted the cream of the army to have much chance of avoiding eventual service. Hoping in their heavy armor and Roman virtue, or despising the disorder and light equipment of the Gauls, they fought. But with the wings in flight, the thinned and outflanked phalanx was pushed back, and eventually surrounded. Many were killed, and others took to flight or fought their way to safety.
In the aftermath of this disastrous defeat, the Gauls chased the fleeing Romans right into the city of Rome herself. They encamped in the city for seven months, and forced the Romans to pay a heavy tribute. Their eventual departure was assured by the help of the Roman forces from around Veii, and their leader, Camillus, in the wake of the defeat, reformed the army. In addition to organizational reforms, soldiers began carrying new equipment, tall and narrow or smaller oval shields like those carried by many of the Gauls, and which eventually developed into the large Roman scutum we know from the middle Republic and the Empire.
The Gauls, though they withdrew, were not gone. They would continue to harass parts of Etruria and Latium over the next 150 years from their cities in Cisalpine Gaul, along the Po valley. But they were not only marauders. A painted sarcophagus from late 4th century Etruria depicts a Celtic mercenary, partially armed in the Etruscan manner, fighting alongside Etruscan warriors in a mythological combat scene. The presence of this incorporated Gaul, who carries the round aspis and wears a Hellenic helmet, but who is clothed only in the light blue robe of Celtic warriors and wears his sword on a chain link belt, shows the slow integration of these Gauls, and reminds us that they were not always only enemies, and were not always only barbarians beyond the pale of civilization.
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