Hail Caesar! - Rome's First Emperor

When Julius Caesar was stabbed to death during the famous Ides of March assassination in 44 BCE, he left a power vacuum big enough to suck Rome into yet another Civil War. After some initial sieges and skirmishes, which resulted in the deaths of the two sitting Consuls, this vacuum ended up being filled by three unlikely allies who were appointed to a kind of co-dictatorship in October, 43 BCE in hopes that they would check and balance each other over the course of their five-year term. What ensued should be no surprise to anyone who's been paying attention to the politics of the day: a temporary and uncomfortable alliance followed by massive Civil War.

Gaius Octavius Thurinus was Julius Caesar's grand-nephew, and renamed himself Gaius Julius Caesar after his great uncle adopted him, and I assume to confuse the later students of history. In any case, Octavius, as we shall call him, proved a worthy adversary for the other members of the Second Triumvirate, leading armies to victory against both the rebel armies of Caesar's assassins and Marcus Antonius.

Like many ancient people, the Romans would occasionally deify their dead leaders, and Caesar, though he was objectively ruthless, self-seeking, and a dangerous consolidator of power, was declared by the Senate to be a patron god of Rome on January 1, 42 BCE. Octavius, capitalizing on Caesar's honor, began referring to himself as the 'son of god' and no doubt won over several followers from Rome's middle and working class through his relationship with their late champion.

After Marcus Antonius was defeated at the Battle of Actium, Octavius was in a position to increase his influence and forever alter the Roman Republic. His power as Consul increased gradually, and he was smart enough to periodically return control to the Senate, as he did in 27 BCE. However, this Oligarchical body was made up of mostly sycophants and Caesarians, since the civil wars purged most of the old Republican guard. Plus, the soldiers in the provinces, over which Octavius had been named governor, were loyal to him personally and cared nothing for an ineffectual Senate that could not deliver on land reform or veteran benefits.

In January of 27 BCE, the Roman Senate bestowed the title of Augustus upon Octavius, a name which he would carry long after his death. The word Augustus comes from the same root word as Augur, a diviner who observed the flight of birds. The title was much more than a simple political office: it meant 'illustrious one,' and carried implications that Augustus Caesar not only held power over the politics of Rome, but over nature itself.

It is from these roots that all future Emperors of Rome would reign. And though Augustus Caesar's example was full of concessions and the avoidance of appearing supreme, his descendants would of course focus on his title, which implied that the Emperor was not merely a man, but a god.

Pax vobiscum

Archimedes

Unfortunately, Archimedes is one of those semi-mythical guys who wasn't written about heavily until hundreds of years after his death. What we do know about him is a combination of contemporary and later sources, all of which agree on at least one thing: he was crazy smart.

He approximated pi to an unprecedented degree, which by itself is one heck of an accomplishment. He built world-changing inventions, created new mathematical formulas which incorporated infinity and zero (two concepts which scared the daylights out of Aristotle), applied buoyancy, and created complicated pulley systems which allowed for the earliest cranes to be built. I have focused mostly on how his inventions applied to warfare and farming, but those were the two chief interests of the ancient Mediterranean, when you get right down to it.

Though he died an untimely death at the hands of a foolish Roman Legionnaire, his concepts and inventions continued to change history long after his death. That is, the inventions that they could duplicate continued to change the world. There were several items the plunderers found in his workshop which could not be re-created and were taken as trophies by Marcellus and his Captains. One of them was a sphere with gears and levers which could calculate the exact position of the known planets.

Pax vobiscum

Famous Friday: Tiberius Gracchus

While Rome was busy establishing dominance over the Mediterranean in the 200's BCE, there were problems on the homefront. Various enemies had abandoned fighting toe-to-toe with the legions in favor of hit-and-run ambushes and guerrilla warfare. However, Roman pride would not allow them to disband a legion until its campaign was finished, so many of the legionnaires were fighting for ten years or longer in places like Spain, Asia Minor, and North Africa. Meanwhile, back on the farm, their wives and children were tasked with caring for their estates, which often fell into ruin.

The wealthier land owners had plenty of money to buy or make slaves (by calling in debts), and they could leave their expansive vineyards and ranches in the hands of capable servants, paying them only food in return for tending their property. Soldiers at the lower end of the middle class who had smaller farms and no money to hire hands or purchase slaves would return from a long campaign to find their animals poached or rustled and their orchards gone to seed. Some tried to make the best of it, seeking work to earn money and reinvigorate their family farm, but work became very scarce with every new batch of conquered slaves that arrived from wherever there was a campaign. These men were unwittingly putting themselves out of work.

This economic crisis is one of the many factors in the Republic's ultimate death, but it is a significant one. The droves of people who later supported Julius Caesar and Augustus after him were the disenfranchised middle class whose farms had been plundered by greedy oligarchs who took advantage of their absence while they were defending Rome from the Barbarians. To my mind, it is the chief failing of the Republic's political structures that they didn't adequately address the needs of those they derisively referred to as “the mob.”

However, some within Rome's political elite tried to enact land and economic reforms before it became such a widespread problem. The Gracchi brothers were two such Patricians who attempted to reverse the injustice of losing one's home while fighting for the Republic. Their payment for these attempts was brutal death.

Tiberius Gracchus, born sometime between 168 and 163 BCE, and served as a military tribune in Spain. Plutarch tells us that while returning to Rome after a campaign, he began to notice the need for reform. He saw the huge tracts of land throughout Etruria (northern Italy) which were being tended mostly by foreign slaves, as well as the smaller farms which had gone into ruin. When he came to Rome itself, he saw several large mobs of unemployed and homeless men wandering the streets looking for work. He knew something had to be done, so when he was elected as Tribune of the People in 133 BCE, he went right to work campaigning for reform. In one of his fiery speeches, he said, "The wild beasts that roam over Italy have their dens, each has a place of repose and refuge. But the men who fight and die for Italy enjoy nothing but the air and light; without house or home they wander about with their wives and children."

This made him popular with the people, but very unpopular with the other Patrician families and Senators, who were all enjoying the benefits of the situation, paying meager sums of money to gobble up the small farms around them when they came to ruin while their owners were away at war. In retrospect, it was quite a nefarious scam that the Senate was running on the people; sending them to war for years so that they buy the land cheap, staff the huge farms with slaves which were captured during these same wars, and profit from the whole scheme. Thus, as they were benefiting so much from the system as it was, they were more than eager to douse this fire of reform.

Believing that the Senate would never pass his reforms, he planned on submitting them instead to the Plebeian Council, since they had some legislative power. The Senate learned of his plan and was deeply offended. In fact, some of the moderate Senators who may have supported these reforms were now firmly against them and against Tiberius himself. They somehow persuaded Marcus Octavius, another Tribune, to use his veto against Tiberius and make him a lame duck. Tempers ran red hot at the Council assembly, as it became clear that Octavius was acting as a tool of the wealthy. The people voted to depose him, and he vetoed them, which probably didn't help matters. Tiberius therefore ordered that Octavius be forcefully removed so they could have a proper vote. In a moment of horrible clarity, Tiberius realized that he had violated the law by using force against a Tribune, something which was very illegal and severely punished since the formation of the Council. So instead of moving forward with voting on his reforms, he moved to basically shut the entire city down until the Senate passed the bills themselves. Businesses weren't allowed to open, temples were closed, and all commerce ground to a halt until the Senate decided to approve his reforms, which they did, but used a parliamentary trick to give his newly-created agrarian commission only minimal funding.

Later that year, King Attalus III of Pergamum died without an heir, leaving his entire kingdom and vast fortune to Rome. Tiberius jumped at an opportunity to give his reforms teeth and claimed part of the inheritance for his commission. The Senate, who was constitutionally in charge of the treasury, saw this as a direct affront to their authority; a check without a balance. They also sought to prosecute him for his unlawful and unconstitutional expulsion of his fellow Tribune Octavius, and waited eagerly for his term to end.

Knowing that the end of his term would likely mean the end of his life, Tiberius ran for re-election as Tribune, making outlandish promises, including giving Roman citizenship to foreign allies. Neither side much liked that particular idea, since the poor were already competing with slaves and didn't want to share the rights of citizenship with a bunch of smelly Barbarians. Quintus Pompeius told the Senate that, since he was Tiberius' neighbor, he knew that the populist Tribune had received royal gifts from a Greek named Eudemus of Pergamum, who prophesied that he would one day be the king of Rome. This, coupled with the testimony of one of Tiberius' cousins who claimed that this Gracchi was amassing power for himself in a play to become King, led the Senators to do something that most of us today feel was a bit . . . drastic.

During the re-election vote, the well-groomed and cultured Patrician Senators followed the accusatory cousin down to where Tiberius was, beat him to death with their chairs and threw his body in the the river Tiber. About three hundred of his loyal followers tried to protect him and were also killed by the malevolent politicians.

Since they had now also violated the law against harming a Tribune, the Senators worked quickly to mollify the Plebeians, who were ready to take up arms against an upper class that was entrenched within the status quo. They agreed to fund the land reform commission, and this satisfied the mob for the moment. At least, until Tiberius' younger brother Gaius came upon the political scene ten years later.

Pax vobiscum

Theology Thursday: The Cult of Artemis

Looking at the statue of the Ephesian Artemis reminds me of when I lived in Japan, as the slender statue looks more like a Shinto deity than a Greek goddess. In fact, if you were to compare the idols of the Greek gods with the statue of Artemis which came from Ephesus, you'd probably think you were looking at completely different religious icons. And, in a way, you'd be right.

Artemis is unique among the Greek deities because she never married or had 'relations' with the other gods. She preferred the hunt to a dinner party, and the human lovers who were lucky enough to win her affection always met with tragic death, sometimes at her hand. She was the goddess of the moon, but the forest and childbirth were also within her realm of protection. Hunters would often lay the skins and horns of their prey upon a tree branch before leaving the woods as an offering so that Artemis wouldn't hunt them down for killing the animals before she had the chance. Women would cry out to her during childbirth in hope of relief from their pain either by the child emerging or receiving a quick death. The Greeks of Peloponnessus, that's the European side of ancient Greece, far preferred Zeus or Ares as their important deities, but for the Ephesians, none other than Artemis would do.

The Artemis image from Ephesus sticks out like a sore thumb in the Pantheon of Greek gods, and that is because that image predates Greek settlement in Asia Minor. It seems that before the Greek colonists came, the Ionian natives had built a matriarchal culture around a fertility goddess whose name has been erased by the fog of time. When the Greeks came and conquered the place, they adopted the image and claimed that it was Artemis, since the Greeks were fond of syncretism (that means incorporating local deities into your religion – word of the day!).

The Greek culture was extremely patriarchal, especially in Athens. Though it is true that Spartan women could own land and personal property (something Athenian women had no right to), this was done mostly out of necessity since the Spartans practiced open marriage. Thus it became necessary for the Greek priests to first break down the matriarchal local religion before they could alter the culture as well. Since the ancient worldview was typically that reality reflected the divine realm, those Ionians who were conquered must have figured that their religion was backwards, and so gave in to the priests and renamed their statue.

Her unique appearance, combined with the need for ancient people to have a lot of children to hedge their bet, made her a popular deity, and her temple in Ephesus was three times larger than the Parthenon temple that the Athenians built for their patron god Athena. In fact, the Ephesian Temple of Artemis was one of the seven wonders of the Ancient world, making Ephesus a huge tourist attraction for people from every corner of the Mediterranean and Black Sea. Ephesus being a coastal town, its economy was dependent on trade and tourism, so much so that there was once a riot against Christian missionaries organized by idol craftsmen who feared the sag in their income that a more popular god would bring! You can read more about this uprising in Acts chapter 19, which is a very informative account of the fame of the Ephesian Artemis.

The cult surrounding Artemis, ironically, centered around her virginity. Priests who served this moon goddess would willingly castrate themselves while men who went off to war would swear vows of chastity before the idols and likely keep a pocket-sized version with them as a reminder. While encamped in rugged hills on campaign, I imagine many a veteran Hoplite telling a tale around a cookfire all about a foolish young soldier who broke his vow to Artemis and brought his entire army to ruin. There were many such tales, since the Greeks were so fond of Fables.

Though Artemis was widely beloved, she eventually fell to the cross, as did all her Olympian brethren. Over time, the Roman Empire became more and more Christian through either proselytizing or by political manipulation, and the old gods were cast aside like yesterday's newspaper. Artemis would hunt no more.

Pax vobiscum

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

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

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

Famous Friday: Mithridates VI, Alexander's Last Heir

I don't blame Rome for conquering the world. Sure, they did some terrible things along the way and their very name became synonymous for oppression, but I don't really think it was all their fault. Rome, not unlike Sparta, had the practice of ensuring its security by serious, disciplined military training, and using slaves to handle the menial work of growing food and tending to the livestock (although Rome's slavery was nowhere near the scale of Sparta's!). This meant that, in the same way that the Peloponnese city-states all wanted to be Sparta's ally when it was strong, the emerging powers of the Mediterranean wanted to be counted among Rome's friends. When a conflict would break out involving one of Rome's allies, they would often call for help and Rome would send and army. Eventually, to save on time and travel expenses, the Romans just built an outpost nearby and eventually saw to all that nagging day-to-day governance stuff.

Ergo (+100 Latin bonus points!), if there was a destabilized area in the Mediterranean from about 200 BCE onward, you could bet that it wouldn't be long before the Romans would lend a hand. Asia Minor circa 90 BCE was one such area where local conflict and civil strife were both common. It was a land of many cultures, having been conquered by both the Persians and Greeks respectively over the previous 500 years, and there was still a significant local population who had their own customs and philosophies. To the Romans, who admittedly had begun to look toward the expansion of their already impressive empire, it looked like a good land for up-and-coming politicians to get noticed through conquest.

So it was that Lucius Cornelius Sulla found himself far from home on the Asian frontier facing off against a mighty Pontic king who had somehow unified these diverse people and formed an army. Mithridates VI, also called Eupator, stood before him proud and defiant, refusing to repent for his slaughter of Roman civilian colonists in the terrible massacre that Appian refers to as the “Asiatic Vespers.” It is important to note that though this act certainly qualifies Mithridates VI as a cruel, petty despot, it was not without pretense from the Romans themselves

Though they admired Greek thought and borrowed their mythology, the Romans were notoriously merciless in their dealings with Greek settlements. In 167 BCE, the Greek colony of Epirus was sacked and all its inhabitants enslaved. In 146 BCE, they destroyed Corinth. Not to mention the slaughter of Archimedes at Syracuse. Though I don't believe the Romans always sought the wars that entangled them, they certainly didn't go to war without real commitment.

Before continuing our tale of the small kingdom of Pontus versus the mighty empire of Rome, let's explore Mithridates as a person, that we might better understand this man and why he did such terrible things. First of all, let's explore the area where he was born.

The light purple is his empire at its most expansive. The dark purple represents where he started. Clearly, this was a man who knew how to exert his influence without the aid of Roman interlopers. His heritage probably has a lot to do with his disdain for all things Roman.

Mithridates was a descendant of Alexander the Great on his father's side, and this was a fact he took great pride in. It helped him to recruit the Greeks living in Asia Minor, as they grew up hearing stories from their parents about mighty Alexander and how he conquered the world. On his mother's side, he was a descendant of Darius I, a mighty Persian conqueror. This helped him to win support from Persians, and also from the Asians. Thus, Mithridates set himself up as the heir of both the Macedonian empire and the Persian empire, which was a powerful political and rhetorical weapon.

His father died when he was only 14, and it is believed that he left his home soon afterward for a time. His mother ruled in his stead as a regent, and meanwhile sold large portions of the Pontic territory to Rome, who was eager to stake their claim on the East. The city of Laodicea is named after her.

Six years after his father's death, Mithridates VI either came of age or returned to his throne (since it's unclear whether he ever really left) and threw his mother in prison. He did not approve of the partitioning of the kingdom, and he especially didn't want to involve the Romans. He desired to defeat them, to overturn a hundred years of virtually unchallenged Mediterranean hegemony and establish a new Helleno-Persian Empire that would rule in its place. But first, he would have to unite Asia, carefully maintaining a balance between diplomacy and outright conquest.

First, he turned his eye to the north, knowing that it would be impossible to reunite Asia without a base of power in the form of money. So, in exchange for protection, he raised and sent an army to drive the Scythians out of Crimea and the Eastern Baltic region. The Bosporans, who lived in that area for many years, eagerly accepted this help because the Scythians had long been their bitter rivals; mostly horse archers who fought with poison arrows and had a raiding-based economy. They were kind of like ancient land-based vikings. Mithridates' army succeeded, thanks to the leadership of Diophantes, one of his greatest generals. Thanks to him, the Rhoxolanoi, a Scythian ally, also accepted Pontic rule. Now that he had cut his teeth on northern politics and warfare, he was ready to mix it up with the locals.

Nicomedes III ruled Bithynia at the time, and Mithridates initially meant to ally with him. Nicomedes proved himself a friend of Rome, however, and so a war broke out between them. Mithridates met Nicomedes on the battlefield, and the Pontic army consistently defeated the poorly-trained Bithynians, who were scattered like chaff in the wind. So it was that Nicomedes chose to enlist Rome's help directly, corresponding with them and begging for relief from the Pontic tyrant. Rome, having received a request for help, gladly obliged and thus began Mithridates' direct struggle with the Empire.

Next week, we will take a detailed look at the tactics and customs of the Pontic peoples, with their Greek Phalanxes, Peltasts, and Scythe Chariots. As this week turned out to be a “Greek Week,” next week will be mostly a “Mithridates VI Week.” Stay tuned, and stay safe.

Pax vobiscum

Technorati Tags: ancient, history, Mithridates, Eupator, empire, Rome

Theology Thursday: The Paradigm of Pettiness

In my younger days (and, let's face it, even now), I couldn't get enough of Myth. I consumed volumes of the stuff, usually the ancient Greek and the Norse, because the idea of many gods was totally different from what I believed, and therefore, intriguing. What especially struck me was their behavior and character, and how different they were in that regard from the God I read about in the Bible.

The Greek gods developed from an oral tradition that quite possibly predates urban Greek civilization. Their stories are almost always told as an answer to a question. For example, the tale of Arachne most likely began when a small child asked their parent where spiders came from. There is a common thread running through most fables of the gods, a universal philosophy: do not cross the gods.

Unlike the Hebrews, whose one God commanded strict obedience to a moral code and religious practice, the Greek gods simply commanded humanity not to get too full of itself. They saw us as a nuisance at best, and rivals at worst. Prometheus, a demi-god who served those uppity Olympians, had the audacity to bring us fire. Zeus was pretty upset by this, since he didn't want humanity becoming powerful enough to overthrow him the way that he, along with his siblings and allies, had overthrown the titans before them. For his trouble, Prometheus was chained to a cliffside where every day birds would come and eat his insides. Every night they would grow back and the circle of pain would continue. It was Heracles who finally saved him on one of his many quests.

Yes, jealousy is an ugly emotion, and the gods were filled with it. The idea of an immortal deity being envious of mankind seems silly to us today, even those of us who still believe that there is a God. Yet the Greeks believed in gods that displayed all the worst human emotions and had super-powers to boot. Hera, Zeus' wife, would frequently vent her frustrations by tormenting some of her philandering husband's illegitimate children (and there were many!). Why, we might ask, didn't she punish her husband directly? Well, Hera's one attempt to go against the king of the gods ended very badly.

Believing that Zeus was wielding too much power for one god, Hera, Poseidon, and Apollo decided to stage a coup, waiting until their king was asleep on his couch and then binding him with one hundred leather ties so that he could not move at all. When Zeus awoke, he was furious and threatened to destroy the betrayers, who openly mocked him, laughing at his feeble attempts to reach the lightning bolts which they had made sure were well out of range. However, the problem with coups is that eventually you have to decide who's in charge. So the three ring-leaders got all the other gods involved and each one began lobbying for leadership in a debate that gradually threatened to erupt into an Olympian civil war.

While they wasted time with talk of succession, Thetis, a long-time friend of Zeus since the days of his rebellion against Chronos, dispatched her giant, named Aegaeon, who possessed one hundred hands. He untied Zeus while the others were distracted, and Zeus quickly grabbed his lightning bolts and brought the situation under control.

For their part in the conspiracy, Apollo and Poseidon were ordered to serve the King of Troy for a time. Taking advantage of this new immortal work force, King Laomedon had them build walls for his city, which were said to be impregnable. If The Illiad is right, it worked, and the Achaeans had to take the city by the trick of the Trojan horse rather than scale those massive walls. Hera received a far worse punishment for her role in the scheme. She was shackled to the sky by her wrists and anvils were hung from her ankles. She continually screamed in anguish night and day until Zeus freed her after securing oaths of permanent fealty from his fellow gods, who cringed at the horrific sound of Hera's pain.

It is interesting that what gave Zeus success in his original ascension is also what prevented this challenge to his power and authority. Unlike the titans before him, who were looked upon by the Greeks as being primitive, Zeus was able to forge alliances and coalitions. He could never have taken the titans down by himself, but with the help of many powerful demi-gods he was able to free his siblings from Chronos' belly, and bring them all to victory. No doubt the Greeks associated the titans with their Mycenaean ancestors, but Zeus and his band were modern gods for a more civilized era, whereby men would be killed in much more civilized ways, no doubt.

It is because of their gods' pettiness that most Greeks simply looked upon them as potential hazards rather than helpers in their time of need. In fact, if a god did help you in your time of need, they probably needed a favor. This is why the Pagan Greeks never wrangled, as modern Christian Theologians do, with the question of suffering. While Christians revere Jehovah as a God who is good and has good intentions, the Greeks held no such opinion of their deities. This meant that while they would sacrifice to them and try to get their attention with great displays of worship, it was either quid pro quo or mollification. That is, if you'd already fought and won your battle, or finished building your house, you would give a dedication to the gods so that they would see your humility and refrain from screwing up your life to remind you that you were still mortal, and therefore not as cool as they are.

The criteria for a successful Greek life was the attainment of fame, whereby you would live forever because people would tell stories about you. The only figures lucky enough to have that honor were, at first, the gods. However, tales of Ulysses, Achilles, Ajax, and the other Greek heroes were passed down through oral tradition and used as models for young Greek boys to follow. And in a world where the gods don't care about you, some claim to fame is your only real hope of eternal life.

Pax vobiscum

Culture Wednesday: Sparta - The Phobiopolis

Few of my friends still make the mistake of mentioning any recent 'historical' movie in my presence. I don't get invited if that's what they're going to see, and if anyone brings it up in conversation, someone else in the group is quick to silence them if I'm around. This is because I hate (HATE) pretty much all modern movies based on historical events. And that includes the most recent Greek tale of heroics and glory, 300.

But wait, before you go back to the lolcats and delete my feed, hear this: I solemnly swear not to make this entire post about how inaccurate and terrible this movie was. However, you should be aware that it will come up. This is not a movie review, just a second look at the Spartans, through the lens of reality rather than romance. Let's start with Sparta's economy.

Every Spartan male was part of the army. From age 7 or so, they would live in the barracks and learn to be ruthless, survivalist warriors. However, if everyone is a Hoplite, who grows the food? Who trades? Well, the Spartan warriors that so many have come to revere and admire were slavers, plain and simple. Sometime very near the founding of Sparta, the surrounding indigenous people, later known as Helots, were enslaved and forced to work on the farms that dotted the Spartan countryside. They wore dog-skin hats and out-numbered the Spartans about 10 to 1 by most estimates. And periodically, just to keep things interesting, the leaders of Sparta would call for a mass execution. Or some soldiers would just kill a few Helots for amusement.

Some historians have claimed that the Helots, though no doubt resistant to their captivity at first, gradually grew to believe the Spartan propaganda that they were less than human and lived only to obey. The number of Helot rebellions seems to squish this theory like a fat, slow bug, however, and I can't bring myself to imagine anyone enjoying slavery. On top of the rebellions, the Spartans themselves would always bear their spear and shield when walking around the city at night, only unbuckling their shields when they were safely within the walls of their own home. That's how seriously they took the threat of being murdered secretly by a group of Helots.

Of course, slavery was common in ancient times, and the Greeks had several different words for slave, ranging from a slave captured in battle to an indentured servant. No one was as cruel to their slaves as the Spartans, though, which has raised a number of questions dealing with their unabashed oppression.

First, why the wanton violence toward the unarmed slaves? Why did they give them annual beatings regardless of their behavior? I believe the answer is fear. The Spartans, under all their armor, chutzpah, and rigorous training were nothing more than a bunch of frightened people trying desperately to obtain some sense of control.

The day-to-day Spartan lifestyle is pretty famous, and is the one thing I will give credit to 300 for portraying correctly. When they were not campaigning, they lived very simple lives as if they always lived in camp. They wore burlap-like clothes, and even their kings lacked the jewels and pomp of their Eastern neighbors. This is why the Spartans were never bribed with money; they didn't use it. Gold was just a shiny metal to them, and they scorned the opulence of Athens and Corinth. Even today, Spartan has become an adjective for someone who lives on the barest necessities.

They craved military power, to the point of conscripting the entire free population permanently. Their army was their most valuable commodity, and it set them apart from their neighbors. To have the Spartans in your alliance was a good reason for your enemies to negotiate. Their Phalanxes were near unbreakable, and their armor was heavy and durable. However, while we interpret military strength as a reason for security, that same thought reveals the insecurity of building up a military in the first place. Why build such a massive, professional force if you have nothing to fear? It was in fear that they trained, and a pure cynical ploy to motivate the troops by the council of Elders to leave the city with no walls (claiming Sparta's fighting men are its walls).

They practiced infanticide for those babies who had deformities or were crippled from birth. This practice horrifies us today, and no one will defend a mother who has left her baby in a dumpster by saying that she is just being “spartan.” Surely they could find work for a child that was disabled, the same way that the Japanese, for example, would train their blind people in the art of massage and acupuncture? But common work is not for Spartans; it is for Helots. The Spartans are born to fight or they are killed after birth. This, too, was fear at work. Fear of weakness, fear of social change, and fear of subjugation.

So the next time you watch a movie or read a book portraying those gallant, rugged, and noble Spartans defending their homeland or joining their allies to defend Greece, don't be taken in by the romantic view that started, I believe, with the Renaissance. Remember the Helot, who lived in daily fear of his life. Remember the baby whose life was taken because he was deemed unfit to live. Remember, most of all, the founders and leaders who would take the freedom of ten times their number just to ensure their own.

Pax vobiscum

Technorati Tags: sparta, fear, slavery, oppression

Military Monday: Phillip II's Phavorite Phormation

Say you're an ancient Mediterranean warlord getting ready for a campaign and you've mustered a few thousand spear-men through levies and conscription. Now what? You could just march them straight into combat, that is, if you enjoy playing dice with peoples' lives. Or, if you are serious about gaining a victory with minimal losses, you'll use a disciplined formation; you will teach them the Phalanx.

Several ancient cultures, especially the Greeks and Romans, utilized this formation as the core of their strategy. A Phalanx is a group of spear-men who stand in rank shoulder to shoulder and shield to shield, their spears pointed in a unified direction, creating a wall of spear-points. If something happened to the front rank, the second rank would step up to take their place. It started as a simple idea, but simple ideas have a way of evolving when they come into contact with the right people.

The Phalanx came into its own with Phillip II of Macedon, a charismatic, smart Greek warlord and Alexander the Great's absentee father. Under his leadership, the Kingdom of Macedon expanded and conquered much of the Greek peninsula, and he showed no signs of slowing down. Macedon had been a relatively obscure power until he came along, after being educated in warfare while he was a hostage in Thebes. He had learned how a simple switch in traditional strategy had given the Thebans victory over the mighty Spartans and therefore, hegemony over the entire Greek world.

The Spartans always placed their most experienced and elite forces on their right-most flank, but this was a tradition with no strategic purpose. The Thebans took advantage and placed their most elite directly against them, bolstering those ranks with common soldiers as well. The Spartans' right flank crumbled and the rest is, well, history.

The Phalanx was more than just a bunch of guys with spears playing follow the leader though: there were several strategies that they could employ to adjust to their situation. Marching against archers? Bunch up closer to give a smaller target. What if the enemy infantry charges? Macedonian Spears, or sarissas had a short spike on their hilt (called a “lizard killer”) which you could stick in the ground, allowing the enemy to impale themselves on your spears without giving ground. Good order in a Phalanx generally led to victory, and likewise bad order led to certain defeat.

One-sided formations work well as long as the enemy is only attacking from that one direction. However, the sides and rear of the Phalanx were wide open, and unless the lieutenant saw a flank coming and had time to turn the men, they would most likely be scattered and routed by a charge of cavalry or even lightly-armed reinforcements.

Heavy armor was essential for the Hoplites of Phillip's (and later Alexander's) army. Their early conquests were against fellow Greeks who also employed Phalanxes, albeit with inferior equipment (more on this tomorrow). In Phalanx vs. Phalanx, the most important things are quality of weapons, durability of armor, and the discipline of the troops. They would march to each other and then repeatedly strike using brisk stabbing motions, hammering away at their opposition. If a front-rank soldier became afraid, there was nowhere to run, and panic nearly always leads to crushing defeat.

When Phillip II returned from Thebes, he secured his realm and immediately began a rigorous training program for his soldiers. They became experts at the Phalanx, which their leader used to a devastating effect on the battlefield. Their discipline gave them a sense of security on the field, while their leader's charisma gave them confidence.

Alexander the Great owed much to his father. But, although Phillip II built the machine, young Alex would drive it to great fame, which the ancient Greeks desired above all else. This wasn't just a case of a spoiled teenager winning a race with daddy's Bentley, however. Alexander improved on his father's tactics and made them work so well that he regularly won against superior forces. The main way he accomplished this was by a tactic similar to what the Medieval strategists called the Pin and Fork. One of Alexander's Phalanxes would engage an enemy Phalanx, while another unit would flank them . . . or Phlank them [/pun]. However, he did not allow the power of the Phalanx to seduce him into relying on it alone. As he passed through Asia minor, (and by passed through, I mean conquered) he would add local units to his army, taking advantage of their strengths and leading even his vanquished to victory. Using the Phalanx as a core, this young man was able to conquer all of Asia Minor, Palestine, the entire Fertile Crescent, and get all the way to the border of India. Then he drank himself to death, or was poisoned, at the age of 32 while returning home to take a break between victories.

Of course, all things must come to an end, and progress is no respecter of tradition. The Romans, who had also grown very powerful by utilizing the Phalanx, set their eyes on expanding further. They began using larger shields, javelins, and a 3-line infantry tactic that could crush an army of Phalanxes by flanking, dividing, and conquering. Using these and other techniques (stay tuned, kids!), they drove many of the Greek colonists out of Italy and ruled over those that remained. And just as the Phalanx began in Greece and spread to India, Rome's tactics met with success the world over.

Pax vobiscum

A Weekly Format

In the interest of organization, I have decided on a weekly schedule so that I can better plan these posts and keep updates regular. After some thinking, here's what I've decided on:

Military Mondays - For all things martial. Monday's posts will cover tactics, weaponry, armor (or lack thereof), and all manner of warfare. Expect some series' out of this day, like The Punic Wars and The Marian Reforms.

Technology Tuesdays - Ancient technology will be the center of Tuesday's discussions. From triremes to pulleys, we will examine every aspect of ancient technology in all its amazing forms. Here is where I'll also discuss the war technology in greater detail (though I'll probably 'synergize' this with Monday's post e.g. posting about the invasion of Britannia on Monday and writing about the design and brutal effectiveness of the scorpion siege weapon on Tuesday).

Culture Wednesdays - C-C-C-Combo Breaker! Yeah, I couldn't think of anything that started with 'W' that would both relate to the ancient world and be important enough to warrant its own day, so Wednesdays got stuck with culture. But hey, we'll talk about Togas, superstitions, mathematics and education. And don't forget: you can't spell culture without spelling cult!

Theology Thursdays - Belief in the divine other was central to life in the ancient world, and the Roman Empire saw plenty of change on that front. And no, I'm not just referring to the advent of Christianity. Get ready to learn about Emperor worship, proper sacrifice techniques, and how the Philosophers tried to tie it all together.

Famous Fridays - The one day of the week when I will sell out and write about some well-known figure of antiquity in all their glory, hypocrisy, and glorious hypocrisy. Seriously, though, I will be investigating sources to formulate theories on how common people thought of, say, Julius Caesar during his time and long after his death. The Romans especially had a serious jones for hero worship, but they were not alone in that regard. I'll probably also touch on the paradigms for ancient heroes because they are very different from modern standards.

Feel free to leave a comment on any post you feel like. I want this blog to be a conversation - not a lecture. If you think I'm wrong, or being unfair, please let me know and I'll adjust my position (or tell you how you're wrong and being unfair. Doesn't feel good does it?). If you think I'm right, send me some kudos. Like all writers, my poor little ego is fragile and needs constant praise to prop it up.

Pax Vobiscum