Famous Friday: Pomp(ey) and Circumstance

Toward the beginning of the 100's CE, the Roman army was radically redesigned by Gaius Marius, who changed the rules and forever changed Rome. Prior to these reforms, in order to serve in the Roman army, you had to be a member of the upper class, own a significant plot of land, and provide your own weapons and armor. Marius opened the ranks to all classes of Romans, promising land and plunder to whoever signed up. The army was thus transformed from an elite institution into a social ladder by which “new men” could earn money and fame for themselves and climb the class structure. One of these new men was Gnaeus Pompeius Strabo, the father of Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, known by his more common title, Pompey the Great.

Pompey was only nineteen when his father was killed during a Roman civil war. He inherited a massive and wealthy estate and after two marriages, was swiftly climbing to the most powerful ranks of Roman society. His father-in-law, Lucius Cornelius Sulla, had distinguished himself by winning the first Mithridatic war in Greece and Asia Minor, and had several uses in mind for Pompey. Sulla became the Dictator of Rome and sent Pompey to secure the empire from further rebellions and civil strife.

First on the to-do list was Sicily, which supplied Rome with necessary grain. Next was North Africa, Numidia to be specific, where Pompey excelled at achieving victory with his legions. However, this presented a problem when he returned to Rome wanting a triumphal entry because he was a privatus, that is, just a private citizen with no Senate-seat or Senate-given titles and for him to be granted a parade was actually illegal. Sulla decided to allow it only after he and another general were finished with their own parades. When the day arrived, Pompey was embarrassed by a late start because of an incident with an elephant-driven chariot. It seems that the gates of Rome were too narrow for the elephant to fit, so he had to make a few last-minute changes.

A few years after Sulla's death, he asked for the title of Proconsular Imperium of Hispania (that's Spain and Portugal) so that he might crush an ongoing Roman rebellion in that area. The Senate was beginning to fear this young upstart who gloried in military triumphs but seemed to have no interest in becoming a Senator or going the traditional rout of Roman leadership. They also didn't wish to offend the general in Hispania who already held that title, thus giving them another rebellion on their hands. However, as he refused to disband his legions until they agreed to his title, they acquiesced, hoping that perhaps he would meet his end in Iberia. They were mistaken, of course, and Pompey destroyed the rebellion in five years.

Enter Spartacus. While I do plan on writing more about this slave-general in future weeks, this will be minimal. The Third Servile War was underway in Italy, with Spartacus as its leader. Crassus, another future Famous Friday subject, had faced the Gladiator/Slave army and defeated it, killing Spartacus in the process. Pompey was making his way back to Rome, and encountered the remnants of the enemy army, capturing about five thousand of them. He brought them into Rome as his slaves, and claimed credit for wiping out the rebellion for good. Crassus, needless to say, was not amused.

Pompey was then granted his second (but still illegal) triumphal entry by the Senate, who continued to fear the influence he had with the common people of Rome, the mob. In an attempt to domesticate this brilliant warrior, they elected him Consul, despite the fact that it was a Senate-only office and Pompey had never even been elected Senator. He ruled the Senate as a Consul right alongside his fellow Consul and longtime anti-fan, Crassus. It seems that the Senate believed the two would cancel each other out, their fame would fade with time, and they could be swept from office in a few years. Unfortunately, Pompey and Crassus both desired power, and they proved willing to work with even each other to attain it.

Just when it seemed like Rome's enemies had all been contained, the problem of piracy began to re-emerge in the Mediterranean. Two years after his Consul-ship, Pompey was given command of a naval task force designed to obliterate piracy completely. It was another controversial appointment for the still unelected general, but it passed through the Senate albeit by narrow margins thanks to Julius Caesar (who hadn't become Caesar yet). Whether they liked Pompey or not, they couldn't argue with results. Short version of Pompey's naval command: Pirates lose, Pompey wins, no more pirates for awhile. This, of course, made him popular with the masses once again and left his Senatorial enemies wringing their hands over what to do.

Meanwhile, back in Pontus, the third war against Mithridates the Great was going swimmingly well for one Lucius Lucinius Lucullus (who, I'm guessing, didn't appreciate being called 'Lucy'). However, his troops were growing weary and insubordinate after years of fighting without much to show for it, and Rome was starting to doubt his ability to subdue Asia Minor and the East. He had been chasing Mithridates VI around the countryside, only to learn that he had sought refuge at the court of Tigranes II, the king of Armenia. So he sent an arrogant letter to Tigranes demanding that he produce Mithridates, which Tigranes refused. Then, after fighting with the Armenians for a few years, he also failed to capture Tigranes. Thus, he was replaced by Pompey, who chased Mithridates all the way to Colchis, in the northern Black Sea coast. He still didn't capture the last Pontic king, but he didn't waste any time. He set up Roman-style governing authorities to replace the Pontic nobles and went about conquering Syria, Palestine, and Judea. Afterwards, he returned to Rome, had some more parades, and allied with Julius and Crassus to form the Great Triumvirate which would eventually bring an end to the Republic and usher in the age of Emperors. I'll write more about this in a few weeks when we take a look at Julius Caesar.

While Pompey was certainly skilled at all matters military, politics brought about his eventual undoing. The Great Triumvirate worked well while it lasted, but just like the Highlanders, there can be only one. Caesar practically chased Pompey out of Rome, and once he secured his family, he debated where to go next. He decided on Egypt, which was being ruled by the Greek Ptolemies, and fled there with Caesar's Triremes close behind. When he set foot on the shore, he was stabbed to death by the Egyptian “welcoming party.” The Pharoah thought it best to dispatch Pompey and present his body to Caesar, thus preventing a large-scale pitched war in their country.

Caesar, so the story goes, was not happy about Pompey's death, even though they had become enemies. He put his assassins to death and gave Pompey's remains over to his wife, who took his ashes back to his country home in Alba. His reputation was that of a great and famous general who fought for Rome and whose life ended ultimately as a tragedy.

Pax vobiscum

Theology Thursday: How to Slaughter Animals and Tell the Future

As I wrote last Thursday, the Roman and Greek deities were not the sort of benevolent, all-knowing and omnipotent beings which people worship in this day and age. They were super-powered jerks who treated humanity like contemptible ants, unless they wanted something from one of us. If you read through The Illiad, it becomes apparent that the Greeks, and by extension, the Romans, believed in gods that delighted in solving conflicts with each other by using us, whether it was creating a massive war, transforming someone into an animal, or holding an arbitrary contest and making one of us the judge (RIP Paris). So, besides continual sacrifice and donation to local temples, how would you avoid the anger of these gods? Better yet, how would you determine the gods' moods in the first place? After all, if Neptune, the god of the ocean, is angry about something, it's probably a good time to keep your boats in dock for awhile and sell your exports locally. But if he's in a good mood, then ship it quick! What you'd need is a diviner of spirits, which you could find in temples throughout the Mediterranean who employed a variety of techniques. Let's look at two kinds: Haruspices and Augurs.

Haruspices specialized in the liver and entrails. No, they didn't measure for iron content or alcohol concentration, but would carefully observe the livers of freshly slain animals, typically a hare or sheep, and discover from its coloration and appearance just what the gods were up to. This practice actually dates back to the Babylonian Empire circa 1500's BCE. It spread throughout the Middle East, eventually reaching up to Asia Minor, where the Etruscans lived. They later migrated to Italy and ruled over it for awhile, bringing the practice with them. This bronze liver map was discovered in 1877 in Piacenza, Italy, and is known as the Piacenza Liver:

As you can see, various parts of the liver have been labeled to give the Haruspex a better idea of how to interpret the organ. The most frequent clients of Haruspices were Roman nobility who would want to know if their ventures would be successful, and whether they should proceed with their plans. There are many recorded cases of plans being called off because of a bad liver, and likewise several cautionary tales of people who disregarded bad signs.

Marcus Claudius Marcellus (268-208BCE) was quite the successful Roman politician during his time, and was elected Consul for the fifth and final time in 208. Two years later, he was chasing Hannibal Barca's army throughout Italy, hoping to drive the Carthaginians back across the sea. One day, he and 220 horsemen were going to scout a nearby hill in the hopes of making a camp there, taking the highest ground in the vicinity and thus securing themselves from the enemy. The story goes that he was making a sacrifice that morning, and the Haruspex was thrown into a fit of horror to see that both of the animals' livers were seriously deformed and misshapen. Marcellus laughed it off and went on his recon trip regardless, only to meet with an ambush on the hill in which he and all his men were killed.

Augurs were birdwatchers who could interpret the actions of birds and determine the course of action that people should follow. They were employed mostly in the field with armies, divination being a huge part of ancient warfare. Many armies would stay or march depending on what the birds around them did, but since birds tend to flee from areas where large groups of men are traveling, I doubt they slowed them up too much.

Josephus relates a humorous story of Mosollom, a Jewish soldier marching with Alexander the Great's army. He was a brave and skilled horse archer, and apparently not very superstitious. An Augur was holding up the army because he was observing a bird and claimed that how it took to flight would tell them whether they should move on or go back to their camp. Mosollom promptly drew an arrow and killed the bird, which riled up his companions and the Augur. He replied, “Why are you so mad as to take this most unhappy bird into your hands? For how can this bird give us any true information concerning our march, who could not foresee how to save himself? For had he been able to foreknow what was future, he would not have come to this place, but would have been afraid lest Mosollam the Jew should shoot at him, and kill him." Zing!

While sacrificing to the gods helped to avoid their wrath, divination was considered a good way of knowing what was on their minds. The ancient worldview was much different than ours, especially when it comes to the spirit world. They believed that there were two parallel and codependent universes: ours and the world of the gods. Neither universe was self-contained, and what happened in one would happen in the other, to a certain degree. If an army whose leader belongs to the cult of Apollo defeats and army that follows Diana, the ancients believed that this meant Apollo and Diana were having some kind of feud which Apollo had won, at least for now. Likewise, if a Haruspex kills a rabbit and discovers something odd about its liver, it is because the gods' plan in the spirit world is revealed through this animal's organs.

A likely practical origin of animal divination is when a dog barks shortly before an earthquake or storm. Though it may be coincidental, the ancient peoples believed firmly in the predictive behaviors and entrails of animals. It seems likely that the law of averages is at work here, combined with anecdotal evidence like the death of Marcellus. Some of my friends believe that when a friend or acquaintance dies, two more people they know will die because people die in 3's. The next time someone tells me this, I just might accuse them of divination.

Pax vobiscum

Culture Wednesday: More Than a Theorem

Anyone who's learned even the most rudimentary geometry has heard his name. Yes, in his own way, Pythagoras achieved the Greek ideal of fame that causes him to live forever, even if he is relegated to the pages of High School textbooks. But there is more to this mathematician than a simple ratio. Among other things, he believed himself to be the reincarnation of a Trojan hero, and refused to eat beans. His mathematekoi brotherhood was thought to be the most well-learned in the ancient world, but they did not hesitate to murder one man who would expose their most embarrassing secret: irrational numbers.

Though he seems harmless in his textbook depictions, Pythagoras was considered by many in the ancient world to be a dangerous cult leader, and a malcontent. He lived during that necessary twilight between oral tradition and written history, and thus his life and work is shrouded in an unfortunate cloud of mystery and myth. It is said that he traveled all throughout the world to gain knowledge of mathematics, science, medicine, astronomy, astrology, and mysticism from whomever would teach him. I think it likely that he traveled to Egypt, home of the famous ancient mathematician Thales, who accurately calculated the height of a pyramid by measuring its shadow. The Greek philosophy of math and science was that it was attainable, that they could actually observe and learn from what they saw to predict or manipulate future behavior. However, it was also steeped in Pagan mysticism, something which taints their learning somewhat and caused many, especially Pythagoras, to go off the rails.

Eccentric though he was, even by ancient weirdo standards, he built a school around this central tenet: All is number. He believed that numbers could be used not only to define all things, but could even give them greater meaning. His disciples took this motto to heart, and immediately began measuring angles and lengths to find the hidden constant ratios between them. In fact, most of the really boring parts of Geometry today (constructions, proofs) were what the Pythagoreans discovered when they were just playing around. They would challenge each other with number riddles like, “can you form a right triangle if given two points?”

One story claims that Pythagoras discovered the mathematical value of music. He was passing by a smithy one day, and the ringing of the anvils was sticking in his head. He noticed the relationship between their individual pitches, and examined three of them to discover that the middle one was one-third bigger than the smallest, and that the largest was one third bigger than the middle. Through experiments that the school performed on strings, bells, and other instruments, they created the octave as a means of dividing the musical notes, something we still do in Western music today.

As clever as these stories make him out to be, my belief is that Pythagoras was just the charismatic leader of some very bright young Greeks. I believe his school as a group made much of the discoveries that he is given credit for, just like professors will occasionally take credit for their students' findings today. In either case, he should at least be honored for cultivating an environment in which learning and discovery could take place.

However, this was long before the days of public education, and knowledge of every sort was a tightly guarded secret, particularly mathematics. As we will see in coming weeks, mathematics can kill people, and it often does so in great quantities with a minimal effort. For the Pythagoreans, the biggest secrets that they kept were the ones that they hated and couldn't explain.

Pythagoras and his followers were so convinced that everything could be expressed as a ratio of whole numbers that when they discovered ratios that didn't work out to nice, neat, clean whole numbers they were thrown into a crisis of faith. You see, this wasn't “just math” to them; this was their religion. Everything they held to be true, yes, the very order of the universe was at stake, and if it was just all random, irrational events, then knowledge itself was a fools game, a mirage in the desert of unpredictability.

Try this to see what I mean: draw yourself a square. Go ahead, draw one. Now, assign each side the number 1. Doesn't matter how big you've made it, just pretend you've created your own unit of measurement, name it after yourself if you like. Now that you have your square, draw a diagonal line from one corner to the other. Great. Now, using the Pythagorean Theorem, a^2 + b^2 = c^2, calculate the length of that diagonal. You should get 1^2 + 1^2 = c^2, and c^2 is equal to 2. So how long is that diagonal? The number √2, if you bother to plug it in, should make your calculator go crazy with an endless stream of numbers. However, it's a decimal answer, and therefore not a whole number. The Pythagoreans probably convinced themselves that there must be some sort of mistake in all of this, but their equations would continue to come out irrational, that is, being unable to express in a ratio of whole numbers. And since the square was one of their 'sacred shapes,' there's no doubt that they wanted to keep this a secret until they could find a way to make it work.

Well, enter Hippasus, a Pythagorean disciple who couldn't keep this cat inside its loosely constructed bag. He blew the whistle to the general public and alerted everyone in the Mediterranean that Pythagoras and his school were just a bunch of frauds. Little is truly known about this character as well, though some believe he created a rival school of mathematics. In either case, it is believed that he was murdered by Pythagorean zealots while trying to leave town. Yes, that's right, he was murdered for mathematics.

Pythagoras himself was killed during a political uprising in Croton in which he found himself on the wrong side. Supposedly, he ran from his assassins and was gaining ground until he came to a field of beans. He stopped and declared that he would not cross a field of beans, at which point I like to imagine his attackers stopping for a second to tilt their heads in unison before promptly dispatching this mathematical primadonna.

Pax vobiscum

Technology Tuesday: The Scythed Chariot

If you ever read accounts of early white American colonists and their scuffles with the native peoples, you may be surprised to find out just how often the colonists won battles despite being outnumbered by huge margins. Sometimes, this was because the colonists would target women and children instead of warriors, but when they did face native warriors, they won because of weaponry. Now, if you've ever watched a demonstration of a musket from the 1600's, you know that hitting anything with that unwieldy, smooth-bored weapon would be pretty impressive, even from ten feet away. But the shot itself is only half of the musket's usefulness; the other half is the bang. The Native Americans had a natural fear of smoke during battle because fire is an uncontrollable force of nature. The muskets give a loud report followed by clouds of white smoke and even if it didn't cause mass casualties, it usually caused enough fear to lead to a rout within a few volleys, often less. So it was with the ancient world that there were some weapons useful for their practical effectiveness in battle and others which, though they did not inflict great physical damage, caused fear and panic.

One such weapon of fear is the Scythed Chariot, brought to Asia Minor from Persia during the Greco-Persian wars. Civilian chariots were a status symbol in Rome, and in most of ancient Europe. Owning a horse was an expensive venture by itself, much less owning enough to pull you comfortably along in your little convertible boxcar. They were also used in races in the hippodrome, as seen on Ben Hur. The design of the chariot varied considerably depending upon its use, and the Scythed Chariot's use was to plow through tightly packed enemy formations to break them apart and to slaughter men in large numbers.

A typical Scythed Chariot was built very heavy, since it was made for combat. Four horses (usually heavily armored) would pull a large, sturdy boxcar with two or three soldiers inside, one to drive and the others to protect the driver. The wheels of the chariot were large and spoked, and attached to both sides of the axles were one or more three-to-five foot blades. You can imagine the carnage that would ensue if even one of these monstrosities successfully charged a tightly-packed Phalanx.

Spears, and especially the long Macedonian spears, could be effective in slowing the charge, but only by a coordinated defense could these frightening inventions be countered. Each had the charging power of four heavy horses, and even if the first two were injured, the momentum they created would still cause the bladed wheels to tear through men like fire to dried underbrush. Alexander the Great faced them when he pushed into Persia during his conquest, and he formulated an effective containment solution. His Phalanxes would move into an E-shaped formation, focusing the small center column against the vicious chariots. When the densely-packed group would slow the chariot's initial charge, The outside columns would flank it and kill the drivers and horses. This was effective, but costly, and not every center column was able to stand their ground as they needed to.

The Romans had a better counter: move out of the way. Their army was structured like their society; efficient. Their forces were disciplined, and they had a clearly-defined command structure. Their flexible formations gave them a great advantage over these heavy weapons, which were not easily maneuverable.

During the Mithridatic Wars, Mithridates VI made the mistake of using his Scythed Chariots in an initial charge, thinking to thin the Roman lines for his foot troops. Instead, the Romans moved out of the chariots' way at the last second, allowing them to pass through their ranks and into rough ground behind them that they had lined with stakes. Many of the chariots stopped in time, but were pretty easily dispatched by a few Triarii who were waiting for them. The Roman army taunted their Pontic enemy, cheering for the chariots as if they were watching a race. This fearful weapon had failed to bring victory, and Mithridates ended up losing that battle, his troops being demoralized to see their fellow soldiers slaughtered and mocked.

The Scythe Chariot was not finished with history at this point, however, and Mithridates' son Pharnaces II actually utilized them effectively against a Roman army himself much later. However, they were costly to maintain and the fear they created wasn't sufficient to infect Roman troops, so as Rome conquered the East, they fell out of style and practice as a suitable weapon. Eventually, the Romans thought of better things they could place on the chariots instead of blades; siege weapons. Yes, they later strapped ballistae (kind of a big crossbow) to the backs of their wagons and used them as the world's first known mobile artillery.

Pax vobiscum

Military Monday: The Early Army of Mithridates VI

The army of Pontus reflected the Kingdom itself, and even its king: it was a mixture of different fighting men with different styles, cultures, and ideas. In the best of circumstances, this mix led to sweeping victory, but in the end, it led to ultimate defeat. Fancying himself the heir of Alexander the Great, Mithridates VI followed Alex's tendency to augment his army with whatever kind of troops he conquered along the way. While this worked well for Alexander, it should be noted that Mithridates lived considerably longer and this region had been changing for almost three hundred years since the young Macedonian conqueror.

Asia Minor was and remains a land of many peoples. Considered prime colonial ground by the Greeks, it had an unmistakable flavor of Hellenist-style learning, fighting, and worship. However, there were also Persian colonists there, left-over from Darius' invasion years before Alexander. And this is all in combination with the native peoples, who were primarily tribal, though growing more and more agrarian and urban, forsaking their nomadic ways. In order to unite these people, Mithridates would often resort to xenophobia, at least the anti-Roman variety, thus giving them a common enemy. Here, truly, was a wise student in the art of war.

After he had conquered some of the Balkan region to the North, Mithridates looked to securing his borders in the south. So he made plans, along with Nicomedes III, the king of western neighbor Bithynia, to divy up the area called Cappadocia, just south of Pontus, between the two of them. Mithridates' sister was ruling as regent because her husband had just died. Nicomedes, being a cunning king himself, decided to marry the sister instead, leaving one of his sons in charge of the region.

The two men sent representatives to Rome to resolve the dispute, leaving Nicomedes in a position of comfort, thinking that there would be no battle until their dignitaries returned. Mithridates waited for a time, then invaded Cappadacia outright, and its puppet king was killed in the ensuing fight. This enraged the Romans in the area, who helped Nicomedes raid and burn several towns and settlements in southern Pontus as punishment for his invasion.

Mithridates was more than capable of stopping this looting, but instead he allowed it to happen. Nicomedes ravaged the countryside while the Pontic king merely took reports and made preparations. He knew that the Romans would likely move against him on the pretense of aiding Bithynia, and so he spread word far and wide that those villages had been pillaged under Roman advice, thus uniting the varied people of Pontus against Rome, and Bithynia, her handmaiden. Raising an army was easy for him at this point; those who had their crops and livestock stolen by the Bithynian raiders were only too happy to take up a spear and get some of it back, with interest.

Sure enough, the three Roman generals whose armies were in various parts of Asia Minor all moved against Pontus with the hope of quelling Mithridates VI. The three armies were probably about forty thousand each, along with Nicomedes' army which was reportedly fifty thousand foot, six thousand horse. If they had all joined together to take on this rogue Pontic despot, they may have had a chance. But in their anger, and without waiting for orders from the Roman Senate, they took him on individually, along with his army of two hundred and fifty thousand foot and forty thousand horse. He crushed them one by one, capturing their generals and subjecting them to horrible, humiliating treatment.

His footmen were likely Phalanx pikemen at the core, along with lighter armed auxiliaries and javilineers. The javelin-throwers of Pontus were legendary for their accuracy, and the deadliness of their weapons. The horsemen he employed were mostly, probably all, javelin-armed and heavily armored, capable of forming a kind of highly-mobile Phalanx which disrupted enemy formations with missiles before charging home at their flanks. His tactics were most likely pin-and-fork, using the heavy spearmen to hold the enemy in place while his horses harassed their flanks and caused a rout. He may have also had some Scythian horse archers in his ranks, recruited when he defeated them in the Bosporus up north, and if that were the case, their contribution would have been immeasurable. They were a Steppe people; born in the saddle and taught to ride and shoot from a very young age. Their accuracy was high, and their tactics were notorious: they would pretend to retreat in a panic, only to outrun their pursuers while shooting them with their poisoned arrows. No matter Mithridates' tactics, the comparatively small armies of Rome and Bithynia didn't stand a chance.

Because of this conquest, all of Asia Minor was under his control. He moved swiftly to secure the loyalties of Greek colonies in the western regions, and sent representatives to gain alliances with the Greek cities, who had been living almost a hundred years under Roman hegemony. They eagerly agreed, giving Mithridates a buffer region with which to hold back immediate Roman retaliation.

Unfortunately for him, when Rome did retaliate, they took all of Greece back, but signed a treaty with him that left him in control of Asia Minor. Though he accomplished much and did a lot to unify such a diverse group, it seems that their divisions were stronger than a mutual hatred of Rome. Mithridates the Great himself spoke at least twenty-two languages, which apparently was necessary just to communicate with all the captains in his army!

In the ensuing Mithridatic Wars, the Romans repeatedly punished Pontus with their manipular legions and flexible tactics. Eventually, trouble within his own household was Mithridates' undoing as he was betrayed by Pharnaces, his illegitimate son.

Opinion of this warlord varies, depending on the source. Some look upon him as just another petty king trying to build an empire and advance his own name. Others see him as a kind of freedom fighter against Roman imperial oppression. Personally, the jury's out for me. I think he was much smarter than the average despot, yet his cruelty toward Romans, both military and civilian, cannot be overlooked. It should be noted, however, that he never referred to himself with the surtitle “the Great.” That was something the Romans did shortly after he died. It seems that though they were enemies, there was something about this man that they deeply respected.

Pax vobiscum