World Heritage Status (again)

I've been waiting with baited breath for February.

We were promised that the next development in the long-running World Heritage saga would be announced then. And, sure enough, events seem to be drawing to a close, with the news that UK Culture Secretary Tessa Jowell has formally submitted the Antonine Wall to UNESCO for consideration as a World Heritage Site.

The details posted on the World Heritage Tentative List reveal that the site would consist of a 60km corridor, 40m wide, running across the breadth of Central Scotland, from Old Kilpatrick in the west to Carriden in the east. (Exactly what that means in practical terms remains to be seen.)

The Lost Legion

Some myths die hard.

It used to be thought that the Ninth Legion, the famous legio VIIII Hispana, had come to a sticky end in the wilds of Scotland. This particular legion, which dated back to the days of Augustus if not before, was probably in Britain from the start, participating in the invasion of AD 43. It certainly formed part of Agricola's army when he brought the Caledonian tribes to battle at Mons Graupius forty years later. The legion was engaged in construction work in its fortress at York (Roman Eburacum), some time in AD 108 (according to a stone inscription found there). But, thereafter, it seemed to disappear from the archaeological and historical record.

During the reign of Trajan (AD 98-114), the garrison of Britain stood at three legions. When Hadrian visited the province in AD 122 and planned the building of his well-known frontier wall, he brought a legion with him, the Sixth Victrix from Germany. Scholars assumed that the new legion was required to fill the gap left by some dreadful military disaster. Writing in 1936, Wilhelm Weber, the German biographer of Hadrian, confidently asserted that "the Britons had destroyed the legion IX Hispana in the camp of Eburacum".

In his monumental survey of the Roman legions, the German scholar Emil Ritterling had earlier noticed evidence of officers serving in the Ninth later in Hadrian's reign. So, when the British archaeologist Professor Sir Ian Richmond came to write on the subject, he was loathe to concede the annihilation of an entire legion, and posited instead a convoluted scenario whereby "the legion was cashiered following an ignominious defeat ... [but] some of its officers survived".

But already in the 1960s, Dutch archaeologists had found evidence of the Ninth Legion at the fortress of Nijmegen (Roman Noviomagus) in the Netherlands, dating from early in the reign of Hadrian. Most probably, there had been a troop rotation, a straight exchange of legions, Sixth Victrix replacing Ninth Hispana at York; sadly, there was no dreadful destruction of the Ninth at the hands of the Britons.

However, at some point, a new variation of the myth arose, and became enshrined in Rosemary Sutcliff's delightful Eagle of the Ninth. Generations of book-reading school children have grown up with the idea of the lost legion, an idea that recently resurfaced in an article on the ABS-CBN web site. There, the writer William Esposo listed world-class Scots literature and the many Scots inventors of the past, celebrating the Scottish character:

"At the peak of the expansion of the Roman Empire," he writes, "the Scots successfully resisted Roman conquest. Two Roman legions that were sent as an advance column to Scotland vanished without a trace – no bones, no armor, no signs of battle to suggest what became of them. The mighty Romans lost their nerve and zest for conquering Scotland and instead built Hadrian’s Wall; running 73 miles of open country to separate Romans from the barbarians."

Aye, some myths die hard.

(See also: Lost Legion Myth Lives On.)

Frontier history

It's not every day that a new book about Antoninus Pius appears. In fact, the last one (by my reckoning) was 70 years ago.

Now, David Breeze, former Chief Inspector of Ancient Monuments in Scotland, has penned a short, 210-page, glossy account to accompany the preparation of the Antonine Wall as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Divided into 11 chapters, the first of which deals summarily with the emperor's life (pp. 1-18), Professor Breeze has followed a tried-and-tested formula for this kind of book. He explains the sources of evidence (ch. 2, pp. 19-34) and summarises the Roman army (ch. 3, pp. 35-43), before describing Antoninus' invasion of present-day Scotland (ch. 4, pp. 44-58). The Antonine Wall itself accounts for by far the longest chapter (ch. 5, pp. 59-102). (Incidentally, the Professor's arithmetic is not as good as 18th Century antiquary William Roy's. The latter, quoted on p. 59, observed that "the wall ... consists of three parts; a large ditch, a rampart, and a military way", but Professor Breeze writes (p.71) that "there were three essential linear elements: the rampart, the ditch, with the earth tipped out to the north. [So far, I make that two.] Behind the Wall ran a fourth feature, the Military Way." One, two, ... four?)

The rest of the book covers military deployment (ch. 6, pp. 103-128), everyday life (ch. 7, "Life on the Edge"!, pp. 129-143), the function of the wall (ch. 8, pp. 144-159), and its final abandonment (ch. 9, pp. 160-171). The post-Roman history of the wall is described in ch. 10 ("Grim's Dyke", pp. 172-180), and the Professor rounds off his book with some "Final thoughts" (ch. 11, pp. 181-188).

Details
The absence of footnotes (indeed, of referencing of any kind) often tantalises the reader. For example, many claims are made of the fort at Bearsden, claims which Professor Breeze (as the excavator in the 1970s) may be able to substantiate but which only an excavation report (hitherto unforthcoming) can settle. To say that "The number of barrack-blocks is often a guide to the size of the unit stationed at a particular fort" (p. 109) is perhaps self-evident. But why is it safe to assume that "the small barrack-blocks at Bearsden ... were probably occupied by cavalry"? We are earlier told that "the plan [of Bearsden] was clearly carefully designed" (p. 107), because it fits into a grid of 5 by 3 1/2 actus (the actus is 120 Roman feet square), but most of the interior is vacant and, on the contrary, gives the impression of having been surveyed by a one-eyed apprentice. "In some instances", we read, "the ditches continued across the front of the entrance without a gap", so should we perhaps envisage some kind of drawbridge? "At Bar Hill, unusually, an extra short ditch provided additional defence at the east gate" (p. 107), but the reconstruction sketch on p. 108 shows a similar feature at the south gate, too. When Professor Breeze writes in broad generalisations, is it safe to take them at face value? "On the Antonine Wall, the regimental bath-house was often inside the fort" (p. 109). Let's be clear: out of ten excavated forts, bath-houses were found at six, of which three were inside the fort and three outside in an annexe.

Occasionally, there is evidence of sloppy cutting-and-pasting. On p. 115, Professor Breeze refers to "the sewage at Bearsden". What sewage? On the next page, we read that "one of the most exciting discoveries at Bearsden arose from the biochemical analysis of the sterols surviving in the sewage". So, the picture is gradually building up. Finally, full clarity arrives on p. 120, where we learn that "the sewage from the latrine [aha -- a latrine was excavated at Bearsden!] drained into the fort ditches". Or, on p. 137, Professor Breeze writes that "Local or British gods were sometimes identified with the Roman gods: Camulus with Mars, Magusanus with Hercules, as we have seen." But we haven't seen ... yet. Not until p. 139 do we read about the "altar dedicated to Hercules Magusanus by a cavalryman" near the fort at Mumrills. There's a similar problem on p. 139, where we are told that "the historical importance of the dedication to Mercury found at Castlecary has already been noted". Certainly, "two altars ... to the west of Castlecary fort, one recording the erection of a shrine", were mentioned on p. 132, but the Professor doesn't divulge the full historical implication until p. 162! (And fails to mention that the altar is depicted as fig. 9.2 on p. 163, but the general lack of cross-referencing is another matter entirely.)

The book is admittedly short, and Professor Breeze does give the reader a flavour of the Antonine Wall and its history, as far as we understand it. But I can't help thinking that a splendid opportunity has been missed to present a new authoritative account for the twenty-first century, instead of this lightweight overview.

Imperial insignia?

The papers are full of a new find on the Palatine hill at Rome: the imperial insignia of the Emperor Maxentius.

For example, USA Today reports that "Clementina Panella, the archaeologist who made the discovery, said the insignia were likely hidden by Maxentius' people in an attempt to preserve the emperor's memory after he was defeated by Constantine I in the 321 A.D. battle of the Milvian Bridge — a turning point for the history of the Roman empire which saw Constantine become the unchallenged ruler of the West."

The link with a known historical personage seems a little far fetched. Associated Press claimed that "The depth of the burial allows experts to date them to the early 4th century A.D.", and quoted Ms. Panella as having explained that "These artifacts clearly belonged to the emperor, especially the scepter, which is very elaborated, it's not an item you would let someone else have."

I remain sceptical.

Bisotun again

Last week, Iran's Cultural Heritage and Tourism Organisation (ICHTO) celebrated Bisotun's registration as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Coincidentally, in their travel section, AOL are running an article on the most visited World Heritage sites, in which they include Mount Perdu on the Franco-Spanish border, the Iguazu Falls on the Argentina-Brazil border, and Waterton Glacier Park on the US-Canadian border. However, the theme of borders does not extend to our own dear Antonine Wall!

Back at Bisotun, the Iranian people evidently have a keen sense of history. The director of the ICHTO Archaeology Research Centre hoped that the celebration "teaches the Iranian children the importance of their cultural heritage and how to preserve it".

Perhaps we can learn a lesson there?

Would the real King Arthur ...

Clive Owen makes a splendid Roman officer, don't you think?

Last week, I watched King Arthur again. Now, I would be the first to admit that there's precious little historical fact in that movie. But I do appreciate a rip-roaring action movie, competently acted and well directed.

Imagine my surprise when I found that some people believe King Arthur to be less of a movie and more of a documentary. In particular, a certain Dr. Linda Malcor (her Doctorate is in folklore and mythology) has posted an on-line article on why she believes that a second-century Roman officer named Lucius Artorius Castus is really the King Arthur of legend.

The most glaring problem would appear to be chronology: for the historical Arthur is mentioned in the later 5th century, whereas the Roman Artorius lived 300 years earlier. This is the least of the movie's historical problems. Others have provided detailed criticism, but it was Dr. Malcor's misrepresentation of Artorius's career ("... a brilliant cavalry officer" !) that I found striking.

A Roman inscription that seems to be the tombstone of Artorius Castus was published in 1873 (as CIL III 1919) by the great German scholar Theodor Mommsen. Thought to date from the AD 180s, it reads as follows:

D(is) [M(anibus)]
L(ucius) ARTORI[us Ca?]STUS
(centurio) LEG(ionis)
III GALLICAE ITEM
[(centurio) le]G(ionis) VI FERRA-
TAE ITEM
(centurio) LEG(ionis) II ADI(utricis) [i]TEM
(centurio) LEG(ionis) V M[a]-
C(edonicae) ITEM P(rimus)P(ilus) EIUSDEM PRAEPOSITO
CLASSIS MISENATIUM [pr]AEF(ectus) LEG(ionis) VI
VICTRICIS DUCI(!) LEGG(ionum) [alaru]M BRITAN(n)IC{I}-
{MI}ARUM ADVERSUS ARM[oricano]S PROC(urator) CENTE-
NARIO(!) PROVINCIAE LI[burniae iure] GLADI(i) VI-
VUS IPSE SIBI ET SUIS [ex te]STAMENTO

The man was clearly a career centurion, one of these courageous, highly paid officers (each one in charge of 80 men) who moved from unit to unit (legion III Gallica, legion VI Ferrata, legion II Adiutrix, legion V Macedonica) until finally attaining the coveted position of primus pilus, the chief centurion of a legion. In that post, he had the regiment's 59 other centurions under his authority, and was one of the legionary commander's closest advisors. A secondment as praepositus classis Misenatium (commander of the fleet at Misenum) occurs at this point. But the next step in the ambitious centurion's career was the post of praefectus castrorum (gradually becoming known as praefectus legionis, "prefect of the legion"), which recognised the man's years of experience by charging him with the smooth running of the legionary fortress for a year before his honorable discharge. At this point in Artorius's career, he was entrusted with the command of an army drawn from the legions and cavalry of Britain, in an expedition against the Armoricans of northern France. (His temporary command gave him the grand title of Dux legionum et alarum Britannicarum.) This was a perfectly standard assignment for a man of his seniority, to command detached troops in a war zone; we find numerous examples of chief centurions and legionary prefects in the same role.

As an ex-chief centurion, Artorius had earned the status of a primipilaris, and thus qualified for entry into Rome's equestrian order, a level of nobility second only to the senators themselves. Equestrian status gave Artorius access to the well-paid procuratorships. The inscription proudly announces that he was procurator centenarius (meaning "with a salary of 100,000 sesterces") of Liburnia in Illyricum (modern Croatia), where the inscription was discovered. Many procurators were simply finance officers, assisting the regular military governors (who, as senators, outranked them on the social scale). But Artorius tells us that he had "the right of the sword" (ius gladii), meaning that he had ultimate jurisdiction over Roman citizens, so he was clearly governing the region of Liburnia. This was Artorius's crowning achievement, after which he no doubt retired.

Beyond his prolonged career as a centurion -- which may well have been fraught with danger if it occurred during the lengthy wars of Marcus Aurelius (although the inscription is not precisely dated) -- there is no particular sign of derring-do here. No knights of the round table, Sarmatian or otherwise. And no expeditions against Britain's enemies. No sign, in fact, that Lucius Artorius Castus was King Arthur.

World Heritage Marathon

Recognition of the Antonine Wall as a World Heritage Site appears to have moved closer, after the site was formally nominated. The process is far from over, though. UNESCO must still ratify the choice in February 2007. (Or 2008. Or 2009!)

This story could run and run ...

Digital History

Last month, the University of Nebraska held a symposium on "History in the Digital Age". Sounds interesting. So what is digital history?

Digital History Symposium

One of the symposium sponsors was the Nebraska University Center for Digital Research in the Humanities. Their (rather vague) mission statement is to advance "interdisciplinary research in the humanities by creating unique digital content, developing tools to assist scholars in text analysis and visualization, and encouraging the use (and refinement) of international standards for humanities computing". One of their resources is a searchable database of newspaper articles relating to the Birds of Nebraska, and another is the Early Treaties with American Indians. While the first simply presents the newspaper articles in text form, at least the second has scanned images of pages from an 1855 book as well as parallel ASCII text.

The University of Virginia's Center for Digital History was also represented at the symposium. Their mission statement is a little more focused, promoting "the teaching and learning of history using digital technologies". Again, there don't appear to be scans of original sources in their flagship Valley of the Shadow project; but the digitised text of letters, diaries and publications from the 1860s is joined by some slick animated battle plans.

In an earlier post, I asked what form digital scholarship should take. Perhaps digitising sources (ideally primary sources, as in the Virginia example) and posting them on the internet so that they can be searched is as good as it gets. But then, by that stage, hasn't the scholarship already taken place?

Where's Roman Scotland?

I recently stumbled across a web page which purported to record the Roman ruins of Britain. Here's the accompanying map of Roman Britain!

Now, admittedly, as the sponsor of the Antonine Wall, I may be slightly biased. But I'm absolutely positive that the reach of Rome did not stop at the wall of my illustrious parent, Hadrian.

In fact, there were more than a few enclaves of Romans (admittedly, often barbarians in the pay of Rome, but supervised by fully accredited citizen officers) dotted around the Scottish lowlands for centuries.

But, most amusingly, if you click on any of the placenames on this map (in its original web location, of course), you are whisked off to a page about St. Albans, a town only marginally further north than Watford.

Roman ruins in Britain? I don't think so!

Happy birthday ...

... to me!

So, I'm officially 1,920 years old, and I don't feel a day over 40. Now, where are all these birthday greetings?!