Order and tranquillity

"If a man were called to fix the period in the history of the world during which the condition of the human race was most happy and prosperous, he would, without hesitation, name that which elapsed from the death of Domitian to the accession of Commodus. The vast extent of the Roman empire was governed by absolute power, under the guidance of virtue and wisdom. "

So wrote Edward Gibbon in Book 1, Chapter 3, of his History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. A correspondent recently asked about the two sons of Antoninus Pius, quoting Gibbon's comment (from the same chapter), that "without the help of medals and inscriptions, we should be ignorant of this fact".

Gibbon knew (from the Historia Augusta's Vita Antonini Pii) that Antoninus had two sons. But he seems to have overlooked the remark made by Cassius Dio (69.21), that when Antoninus became emperor he had no male offspring. Gibbon implies that, for noble reasons, Antoninus passed over both sons in favour of adopting the future emperor Marcus Aurelius. However, it seems preferable to imagine that both sons had died prior to AD 138.

How do we know of their existence? The same correspondent helpfully directs us to the WildWinds Roman Imperial Coinage web site, where a selection of coins (Gibbon's "medals") can be viewed commemorating the young Marcus Galerius Aurelius Antoninus. The coins were struck later than AD 140, because they principally commemorate the deified wife of Antoninus, who died in that year. Perhaps the provinces had kept the memory of young Galerius alive.

As for his brother, by good fortune, a pair of inscriptions from the Mausoleum Hadriani (later converted into the Castel Sant'Angelo) mention both M Galerius Aurelius Antoninus filius Imp Caesaris Titi Aelii Hadriani Antonini Aug Pii p p ("Marcus Galerius Aurelius Antoninus, son of the emperor Titus Aelius Hadrianus Antoninus Augustus Pius, father of his country": ILS 351) and his brother M Aurelius Fulvus Antoninus filius Imp Caesaris T Aelii Hadriani Antonini Aug Pii p p ("Marcus Aurelius Fulvus Antoninus, son of the emperor Titus Aelius Hadrianus Antoninus Augustus Pius, father of his country": ILS 350). These are surely the inscriptions to which Gibbon refers.

To the Mother Goddesses

A new Roman inscription turned up in Manchester (England) this month. Before you get too excited, there were no traces of paint on the inscription (as far as I know): the red lettering is mine, to make it easier to read.

The inscription is a Roman altar, set up by a man called Aelius Victor (whose name occupies lines 5 and 6). Altars were part and parcel of the Roman religious mindset. They were designed as small, free-standing, squared-off columns, some three, four or five feet tall (1.0-1.5 m), with a shallow depression on top. Here the dedicator would offer his or her offering.

I vow to thee ...

The altar itself represents a personal contract between the dedicator (in this case, Aelius Victor) and the deity or deities whom he had invoked. Usually, the dedicator requested some favour of the gods -- safe passage, perhaps, or a successful crop -- and promised to set up an altar in gratitude for a favourable outcome.

The abbreviation on the last line -- V.S.L.L.M. -- is commonly found on altars, and indicates that the dedicator votum solvit laetus libens merito ("fulfilled his vow gladly, willingly and deservedly"). Aelius Victor was thanking the gods for whatever favour he had requested, and was keeping his end of the bargain by setting up the promised altar.

In fact, he was thanking goddesses, for the altar was erected Deabus Matribus Hananeftis et Ollototis ("To the Mother Goddesses Hananeftae and Ollototae"). The Ollototae are previously known from Roman Britain. They are thought to be Germanic goddesses whose name means "of all folk", and their function was presumably a protective one. But exactly why Aelius Victor might have sought their aid remains a mystery.

(I confess that I have never heard of the Hananeftae. Please leave a comment if you can shed any light on them.)

Decline and Fall

Today, I spent a pleasant hour enjoying the sonorous prose of Gibbon's Decline and Fall.

My own principate is described thus:
"The restless activity of Hadrian was not less remarkable when compared with the gentle repose of Antoninus Pius. The life of the former was almost a perpetual journey; ... But the tranquil life of Antoninus Pius was spent in the bosom of Italy; and, during the twenty-three years that he directed the public administration, the longest journeys of that amiable prince extended no farther than from his palace in Rome to the retirement of his Lanuvian villa."

Quite so.

(Incidentally, while seeking a suitable picture for this post, I discovered a useful resource in the Dusty Shelf web site's archive of antiquarian texts. Sadly, the site appears to have been abandoned before Rice Holmes was uploaded. The Questia web site seems to charge a subscription for access to this public domain text!)

Detrimental Classics

I can only assume that it was an April Fool.

This week, the Telegraph newspaper's web site carried a report, filed late on 31 March (11;35pm), entitled "Classics harm language learning"! According to the article, "A secret document sent to Government officials by the Dearing Languages Review, an influential inquiry into language teaching, reveals that Latin and Greek were excluded from the list of languages that schools will be encouraged to study because they are 'dead languages' that contribute nothing to 'intercultural understanding'." Furthermore, they were deemed to "actually undermine our attempts to build up national capacity in languages".

Bizarre. Or as Boris Johnson, the shadow higher education minister, was quoted as saying: "the most stupid thing I have ever heard". Quite.

A Gathering of Eagles

It is Easter, and I have been reading Matthew's Gospel.

My eye was particularly drawn to chapter 24, verse 28: "Wherever there is a dead body, the eagles will gather" (Good News Bible, adapted*) or, in the resounding words of the excellent King James "Authorised" version, "Wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered together".

* I was forced to adapt the Good News version because, for some unaccountable reason, the translators have chosen to render hoi aetoi as "vultures". But the vulture has its own Greek name: gups. The aetos was most definitely the eagle. Perhaps the Good News folk thought that only vultures would gather, particularly where a carcass was to be found. So are they right? Did the Gospel writer get it wrong?

It might be more interesting to ask: what is this gathering of eagles, and what is the carcass? As a Roman emperor, I immediately thought of imperial legions and their eagles (aquilae). Did Matthew (writing towards the end of the first century AD) think the same? And is the corpse then the destruction which habitually followed them? In short, is Matthew describing the apocalyptic last battle of Rome?

I think that's more likely than a bunch of vultures picking at a carcass.

Roman nonsense

Mehercule! What a lot of Roman nonsense there is on the internet.

One of my posts from January 2007 (entitled The Lost Legion) recently attracted a comment which relied on information drawn from an official-looking web site. The web site in question, www.albawest.com, with its clashing colors and flashing graphics, was purportedly "designed to introduce the West Highland Way in its national, historic and cultural richness". (There is, incidentally, an official West Highland Way web site, which is altogether easier on the eye.) But along the way, Mr Albawest provides two lengthy pages on "The ancient Picts of Caledonia and their resistance to Roman invasion". Sadly, the content, lacking the charm of historical fiction, falls squarely into the category of misinformation.

Roman Scotland

Our knowledge of Roman-era Scotland (which, of course, wasn't called Scotland at the time, but rather Caledonia) comes largely from two ancient writers. One, a Greek geographer named Ptolemy, helpfully listed the indigenous peoples known at the time. (I have borrowed a map from www.pictart.org to illustrate where these peoples are thought to have lived.) And the other, a Roman senator named Tacitus, happened to be related to the Roman general who first set foot in Caledonia, and wrote a flattering account of his military campaign. Mr Albawest devotes the bulk of his survey of the Picts to this very campaign, without apparently noticing that neither Tacitus nor Ptolemy ever mentions Picts. (In fact, the Picts first emerged as a people only around AD 300.)

Comedy of errors

First of all, for some obscure reason, Mr A insists on calling the Roman province "Pretania", rather than Britannia. And secondly, he refers to Roman "legionnaires", a term properly restricted to the French Foreign Legion. Third: he calls the Flavian amphitheatre in Rome the "Coliseum', which is a well-known theatre in London. (The famous Roman amphitheatre inaugurated in AD 80 was actually known as the Colosseum, on account of a colossal statue nearby.) Fourth: the Roman general Agricola may well have "brought his son-in-law the historian Tacitus with him on the invasion", but Tacitus wrote his father-in-law's biography (with the description of his Caledonian campaign) fully 20 years later, and not (as Mr A seems to think) as an embedded reporter! Worst of all, Mr A calls me "Antonius Pius" and claims that my wall was "lost after less than 10 years of guerilla war". (In fact, I'm rather proud to say that the Antonine Wall was occupied for about 20 years!)

The Lost Legion (again)

My correspondent was evidently duped by Mr A's entirely fictional account of the Ninth Legion and its involvement in Agricola's conquest of Caledonia. Mr A puts a bizarre new spin on the disappearance of the legion by dating it to AD 82! By implication, of course, because Mr A isn't inclined to give us facts when there is fiction to be spun. But he draws the setting of his tale from Tacitus' report of Agricola's sixth season (Agr. ch. 26), normally dated to that year. (Incidentally, we know that the legion was still functioning happily in AD 108.)

First, we are told that "the IX [Ninth] Legion seem to have been especially hated by the Picts perhaps because of some heinous act of brutality" ... for which there isn't a shred of evidence or a glimmer of likelihood. Then, we are asked to believe that a 30,000-strong Pictish war-band over-ran the legion's camp and cut them to pieces. "Agricola eventually came to the rescue just in time to save the remnants of the IX. More than half the Ninth Legion had been lost." Mr A goes on to explain that "they had to bring in a replacement Legion, pull the remnants of the IX out of Caledonia, re-form the whole Legion and repopulate it with new recruits and officers. ... The new IX Hispana Legion proudly marched north - and simply disappeared."

There's more ... but it only gets worse. What a lot of Roman nonsense.

The Western Way of War

I have been reading a short book called Ancient Warfare. A Very Short Introduction, by Harry Sidebottom.

The jacket blurb claims that the author "provides a fresh approach to all aspects of ancient warfare, from the philosophy surrounding it, to the strategy and the technical skills needed to fight". All aspects of ancient warfare?! This is a big claim to make for a 165-page book. And one which (surprise, surprise) is not entirely justified.

As far as supporting material goes, there are five nicely-produced maps; admittedly, they are not really tied into the text and I don't recall consulting them as I read, but so many history books appear without maps that their presence here seems to be "a good thing". And there is an interesting selection of black-and-white illustrations, including 8 scenes from the Column of Marcus Aurelius (a welcome departure from the usual Trajan's Column). Also, the "Further reading" section runs to 28 pages, so it is nothing if not comprehensive.

But what about the content? The title promises an "Introduction" to ancient warfare ... but is it? I certainly found it to be an interesting read. But does it really discuss "all aspects of ancient warfare"? There is a chapter on "Thinking with war", where Dr Sidebottom emphasizes that war was an all-pervasive constant in the ancient world, and a chapter on "Thinking about war", where he sketches the thoughts of ancient philosophers on the subject. There is a chapter about "Strategy", which includes a brief critique of Edward Luttwak's 1976 book (The Grand Strategy of the Roman Empire), and a chapter about "Fighting", where he considers the battle experience of a hoplite, a phalangite, a legionary, and cavalry, touching upon the old chestnut about whether "only a few fight?" But, in terms of the overarching theme, what Dr Sidebottom has written is actually an extended critique of the opening battle scene from Gladiator. On p.1, we read:

"The film Gladiator opens with an epic battle in the forests of Germany. On one side are the Romans, in disciplined units with uniform equipment. They wait in full view, in silence, and prepare their relatively high-technology weapons. Their watchwords are 'strength and honour'. ... In combat they help each other, and display courage. On the other side are the barbarians. They have no units, and, clad in furs, no uniformity. Some carry stolen Roman shields, but they lack the catapults that represent the top level of military technology. Initially they conceal their force in the woods. Surging backwards and forwards, each man clashes his weapons on his shield, and utters wild shouts. ... They rush into combat as a mob, and fight as ferocious individuals. On one side is civilisation, on the other savagery."

It is Dr Sidebottom's thesis that Ridley Scott's Romans represent the accepted picture of The Western Way of War, and he is at pains to demonstrate that this is incorrect. Whether or not this cinematic construct actually does represent our view of western warfare must remain a moot point. In my opinion, Dr Sidebottom has simply set up a straw man which is easily knocked down.

Croatian Limes

An emperor should never admit when he's wrong. But it seems that my knowledge of the Roman frontier (or "limes") along the middle Danube was deficient.

In an earlier post, I suggested that the only Roman military remains in Croatia were the pre-Flavian legionary fortresses at Burnum (near Kistanje) and Tilurium (Gardun). Located in the Adriatic province of Dalmatia, in the far west of Croatia, they are almost 200 miles from the imperial frontier.

In my own defence, I can only point out that, besides a one-year governorship of Asia in AD 135, I have never set foot out of Italy, and have no military experience whatsoever! Nor is geography my strongest subject. So it is perhaps understandable, if not entirely forgivable, that I was unaware of one important fact: namely, that 188 km of the Croatian border in the east is marked by the river Danube (as an anonymous correspondent kindly informed me).

For much of its course, the Danube marks the northern limit of the Roman empire, flowing east through Austria and Hungary to the great bend above Budapest, whereupon it turns south, eventually entering Croatian territory between the rivers Drava and Sava, before turning east again at Belgrade and (having traversed a series of spectacular gorges) wending its way through Serbia, Romania, and Bulgaria to the Black Sea coast.

This sector of Roman frontier is apparently awaiting recognition as a World Heritage Site. Forts are known at Batina Skrela (Roman Ad militares), Osijek (Mursa), Dalj (Teutoburgium), Sotin (Cornacum), and Ilok (Cuccium), but the remains have yet to be developed for public viewing. Let us hope that World Heritage Status will provide the impetus.

Knock, knock!

It is fitting that the first (albeit belated) post of the New Year should be about doors.

The Latin word for door, ianua, gives us our word "janitor", traditionally the door-keeper. So the Roman god Janus (deriving his name from ianua) was the patron, not only of doors and gateways, but of new beginnings. Literally two-faced, he looked back into the old year and forwards into the new.

The accompanying image is the wonderfully complete example of a Roman door excavated in London at the Drapers Gardens site by PCA.

The Rewards of Service

A splendid new Latin inscription was discovered this week at Carberry. The find spot is near the Roman fort of Inveresk, which lay on the south coast of the Firth of Forth forming part of the Antonine frontier, and the new inscription may well be contemporary.

The find is a tombstone belonging to Crescens, a Roman cavalryman, and would originally have sported an ostentatious depiction of the man in action. This part probably broke off when the stone fell over, and perhaps awaits discovery in the earth nearby. The part that remains is the short curriculum vitae appended by Crescens' heir, who erected the stone in his memory.

"To the shades of the departed and of Crescens, cavalryman of the ala Sebosiana, one-time member of the governor's horseguard, who served for 15 years. His heir set this up."

It was common for the men of the auxiliary regiments, both horse and foot, to be selected for the provincial governor's bodyguard, the equites and pedites singulares. Professor Michael Speidel, the pre-eminent scholar of Roman guard units, thought that each province's guards were organised into a mixed numerus singularium ("unit of guards"), but this tombstone specifically states that Crescens was ex numero equitum singularium ("previously in the unit of horse guards"). In 1978, Professor Speidel noted with regret that "no direct evidence for singulares has come to light in Britain yet". Today, he should be delighted.