Augustus, not able to avoid blaming Licinius for the many denunciations and revelations of the Gallic chiefs, sought in other things to excuse him; he pretended not to know certain facts, made believe not to accept others, being ashamed to have placed such a procurator in Gaul.  Licinius, however, extricated himself from the danger by a decidedly original expedient.  When he realised that Augustus was displeased and that he was running great risk of being punished, he conducted that Prince to his house, and showing him his numerous treasuries full of gold and silver, enormous piles of objects made of precious metals, said:—­“My lord, only for your good and that of the Romans have I amassed all these riches.  I feared that the natives, fortified by such wealth, might revolt, if I left them to them:  therefore I have placed them in safe-keeping for you and I give them to you.”  So, by his pretext that he had thus broken the power of the barbarians for the sake of Augustus, Licinius saved himself from danger.

This incident has without doubt the smack of legend.  Ought we therefore to conclude that it is wholly invented?  No, because in history the distortions of the truth are much more numerous than are inventions.  This page of Dion is important.  It preserves for us, presented in a dramatic scene between Augustus and Licinius, the record of a very serious dispute carried on between the notable men of Gaul and Licinius, in the presence of Augustus.  The Gauls complain of paying too many imposts:  Licinius replies that Gaul is very rich; that it grows rich quickly and therefore it ought to pay as much as is demanded of it, and more.  Not only did the freedman show rooms full of gold and silver to his lord; he showed him the great economic progress of Gaul, its marvellous future, the immense wealth concealed in its soil and in the genius of its inhabitants.  In other words, this chapter of Dion makes us conclude that Rome—­that is, the small oligarchy that was directing its politics—­realised that the Gaul conquered by Caesar, the Gaul that had always been considered as a country cold and sterile, was instead a magnificent province, naturally rich, from which they might get enormous treasure.  This discovery was made in the winter of 15-14 B.C.; that is, forty-three years after Caesar had added the province to the Empire; forty-three years after they had possessed without knowing what they possessed, like some grand seigneur who unwittingly holds among the common things of his patrimony some priceless object, the value of which only an accident on a sudden reveals.

This chapter of Dion allows us also to affirm that he who first realised the value of Gaul and opened the eyes of Augustus, was no great personage of the Roman aristocracy whose names are written in such lofty characters on the pages of history, whose images are yet found in marble and bronze among the museums of Europe; no one of those who ruled the Empire and therefore according to reason and justice had the responsibility of governing it well:  it was, instead, an obscure freedman, whose ability the masters of the Empire scorned to exploit except as to-day a peasant uses the forces of his ox, hardly deigning to look at him and yet deeming all his labour but the owner’s natural right.