The Battle at the Edge of the World

It seems that there is a new book about Mons Graupius, the famous battle in Scotland where the Roman army of Agricola defeated the Caledonian tribes and brought Britain into the Roman empire.

The battlefield is notoriously unlocated, with many candidates proposed over the years, and there are still those who cling to the previously-fashionable date of AD 84. But it looks as if we now have a firm date, at least.

All of this is good news. The last book about Mons Graupius appeared twenty years ago, and has long been out-of-print: if you can find a copy, you'll discover that Gordon Maxwell's A Battle Lost is a wonderful little book, beautifully written and meticulously researched by an acknowledged expert in Romano-Scottish archaeology. But Maxwell was unwilling to commit to one or other of the date ranges then current for Agricola's governorship (consequently dating the battle to AD 83/84), and favoured a southerly location for the battlefield. On the contrary, Tacitus' description would lead us to place the battle as far north as possible. And Tacitus is currently our only guide, until some metal-detectorists attempt to rectify the situation.

If Mons Graupius AD 83 delivers half as much as some other recent Osprey Campaign volumes (I have seen a particularly readable Pharsalus 48 BC, for example), then we are all in for a treat!

The book is available directly from Osprey Publishing.

World-class Ephesus

I was amazed to discover that Ephesus is not yet a World Heritage Site.

In fact, the ancient town of Ephesus has been on UNESCO's tentative list since 1994 but seems never to have been formally nominated for recognition as a World Heritage Site.

This is odd. Ephesus seems to be an archaeological site of outstanding value, the primary qualification for recognition. It is also an outstanding example of a traditional human settlement which is representative of Graeco-Roman culture. This site should be at the top of the list.

Of course, a successful nomination brings expensive responsibilities, and Turkey already has nine other World Heritage Sites to look after.

But, at last, it seems that Ephesus is to be nominated (Balkan News report). Good luck, Turkey!

Lost Legion Lunacy

I have often heard people say: "I don't know anything about Art, but I know what I like." Such people enjoy art. But they would never dream of pontificating on the relative artistic merits of the Breughel family, for example. Nor would they presume to hold authoritative views on, say, the influences on Giacometti. For there is an unspoken acknowledgement that Fine Art is an academic discipline, in which scholars have worked for years to develop an individual expertise. Not so, archaeology.

The imminent release of Neil Marshall's Centurion movie is about to pour more fuel on one of this old emperor's favourite chestnuts: The Disappearance of the Ninth Legion.

This particular topic (on which I've written before, here and here) is a stark example of what I might call the Fine Art vs. Archaeology dichotomy. For, while most Fine Art enthusiasts draw the line at art appreciation, Archaeology enthusiasts feel quite at liberty to dream up their own theories, particularly when these fly in the face of accepted wisdom.

The Disappearance of the Ninth legion is one of these theories.

Ninth Legion Nonsense

This peculiar "have-a-go" attitude to Archaeology is (for this old emperor) typified by the Roman Scotland web site. There, the author (one Euan Lindsay) has the cheek to "make no guarantees as to the currency, accuracy, or quality of information stored here". And yet he is quite happy to trumpet the fact that "he takes a pride in getting the facts right" (why the disclaimer, then?) "and is passionate about real Scottish history, not fashionable myth or fable." Sadly, it seems that one man's "real Scottish history" is, in fact, archaeological myth and fable.

Mr Lindsay's irritating brand of historical fiction relies on half-truths and innuendo in order to disprove that "the legion was lost out-with of Scotland" (sic). His readers will come away imagining, erroneously, that scholars have located the disappearance of the Ninth Legion elsewhere, "as there is no evidence of the Ninth Legion being lost in Scotland". This is not the reason for locating the event elsewhere.

Nor is the scholarly argument "an anomaly attributable to the persuasive power of constant repetition by a vocal minority". (What vocal minority? The research is firmly based on a small corpus of academic articles, available for anyone to peruse, and conveniently listed here.)

Quite simply, Mr Lindsay's chosen career as a tour guide in Perthshire requires him to locate the disappearance of the Ninth legion in his back yard, so that he can entertain parties of paying tourists. Now, why doesn't he just admit that, instead of twisting the Archaeology to suit his own purposes? "I don't know much about Archaeology", he could say, "but I know that I'd really like the Ninth Legion to have been lost in Scotland."

Pontius McPilate

It is Easter again, so (following the tradition set in previous years) it is time for an Easter post, and what better subject for a Roman emperor to select than the infamous governor of Judaea himself, Pontius Pilate.

Prefect of Judaea

The only inscription to name Pilate (pictured on left) was discovered during Italian excavations at Caesarea-on-Sea in 1961.^* It was of immediate interest, not only for its rarity, but also because it confirmed Pilate's title as Praefectus Judaeae, "Prefect of Judaea". (Owing to ancient damage, only ECTVS IVDAE can be read on line 3.) This was exciting news, because the later historians Tacitus and Josephus had named him "Procurator of Judaea", a title that only came in with Claudius, whereas Pilate was governor under Tiberius. (Wisely, the New Testament writers simply called him "governor".)

The Scottish Connection

Long before 1961, Scottish antiquarians had laid claim to Pontius Pilate. The story is an amusing one, originating in a nineteenth century book entitled Historic Scenes in Perthshire. Its author, William Marshall, writes:

Fortingall was the birthplace of Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judaea in the days of our Saviour! It is said that, a short time before our Saviour's birth, Caesar Augustus sent an embassy to Scotland, as he did to other countries ...; that his ambassadors found Metellanus, the Scottish king, in this Grampian region; that one of those ambassadors was the father of Pontius Pilate, whose famous son was born as he and his associates sojourned there fulfilling their mission; and that it was at Fortingall that the son first saw the light.

The prehistoric homestead of Dun Geal was even suggested as Pilate's retirement home!

The obviously fictitious story was further reinforced by the reported discovery, during the construction of the church in 1900, of a slab incised with the letters P P. Besides the famous yew tree, thought to be 2,000 years old, the area is known for its prehistoric cup-marked stones and Christian cross slabs. But there is currently no sign of the P P stone.

Pontius McPilate

His surname, often a descriptive knickname adopted by a Roman family, perhaps means "thick-haired", which is ironic given the predilection for crew-cut individuals (e.g. James Nesbitt in The Passion) to play the part in movies.

In reality, Pilate probably hailed from Italy, specifically from Campania where several other individuals named Pontius are known. But wherever he was born, it certainly wasn't Scotland.

* A. Frova, "L'inscrizione di Ponzio Pilato a Cesarea", Rendiconti 95 (1961), 419-434 (whence AE 1963,104).

Out Of Date?

When does a book become out-of-date?

I recently followed an amusing exchange of views on the Roman Army Talk forum. A lurker can often turn up gems of information there, in amongst the usual silly questions and horseplay that make up the bulk of any online forum. There are some familiar names -- the novelist Ben Kane and the ancient world blogger Jona Lendering pop in and out -- but RAT has not yet attracted the big guns.

The thread that I was following began innocuously enough -- as many forum threads do -- but in the course of page 3, a new debate emerged, such is the beauty of our dynamic medium. From a rather dull discussion of mules in the Roman army, I was suddenly plunged into a debate about an out-of-date book. Or -- as one of the writers belatedly concedes -- an "allegedly" out-of-date book!

How outdated is out-of-date?

This got me thinking. When does a book become outdated? As an old Roman emperor, I have enjoyed many classic books over the years. My shelves still proudly display Henry Parker's Roman Legions, a book written in the 1920s, and Leonard Cheesman's Auxilia of the Roman Imperial Army, an even older book. They still have their value, perhaps because they did not claim to be comprehensive. And they still read like classics.

The main protagonist on the RAT thread (easily identifiable by his lengthy posts, liberally spattered with flashing icons that proclaim "I laugh in your face!") was feverishly championing a book from 1983. Quite recent, in the grand scheme of things. (I wasn't even 1900 years old then.) The book, Roman Forts of the first and second centuries AD in Britain and the German Provinces, although long out of print, can still be acquired from second-hand dealers. But, as other postings on the thread pointed out, much has changed since 1983. What began life as a comprehensive guidebook can no longer be considered as such. Other guidebooks have been fortunate in achieving updated second and third editions. Because, as one posting pointed out: "archaeology marches on".

I think a book is out-of-date only when it is superseded, when a new batch of information makes the old batch no longer representative of the subject. It's probably time for a new Roman Forts book.

Richard Hook Remembered

No sooner have we celebrated the career of the wonderful Jean Simmons, than news arrives of the passing of talented historical illustrator Richard Hook.

Contributor to Look and Learn magazine and art editor of Finding Out magazine during the 1960s, he is probably best known for his work on Osprey Publishing's military history titles. He passed on his artistic talent to son, Adam, and daughter, Christa.

A specialist in Native American culture, he illustrated a series of American Civil War and War of Independence titles, as well as The American Plains Indians, American Woodland Indians, American Indians of the South-east and The Apaches.

He will be best known to ancient history enthusiasts as the illustrator of The Spartan Army, Early Roman armies, Armies of the Carthaginian Wars, The Praetorian Guard, and the battles of Marathon and Granicus.

Obituary: Osprey web site

Jean Simmons Remembered

Jean Simmons has died at the age of 80.

The wonderful English actress, who came to Hollywood in the 1950s, starred in such memorable epics as The Robe (1953, with Richard Burton and Victor Mature), The Egyptian (1954, with Victor Mature), and Spartacus (1960, with Kirk Douglas and Laurence Olivier).

Reduced to television work in the 1970s and 1980s, redeemed only by her role in The Thorn Birds, she made a triumphant return to the big screen with How To Make An American Quilt (1995).

Obituaries: BBC | Daily Telegraph | Daily Telegraph (culture) | New York Times |

Roman Holiday

Happy New Year! During the holiday break, I came across a report in The Largs & Millport Weekly News, a major source of information for Cunninghame residents. The article was entitled "Was Largs a Roman Holiday Resort?". I'm pretty sure the answer is "No".

Romans on the Clyde Coast

As a venerable old emperor, I took the liberty of consulting the relevant OS map (pictured left, with modifications so as not to contravene the Crown Copyright). Here, you can see (top right) the very end of the Antonine Wall, as it runs down to the Clyde at Old Kilpatrick. You can also see the forts of Old Bishopton (on the grounds of Whitemoss Farm) and Barochan (on Barochan Hill). At Bishopton, no traces remain above ground, but finds of pottery excavated in the 1950s demonstrate that the fort belonged to the Antonine frontier system. By contrast, excavation in the 1980s at Barochan, where humps and bumps can be seen in some scrubby woodland, showed that the fort was from an earlier period (usually termed "Agricolan"), some 50 years before the Antonine Wall.

Moving left, you can see the fortlet at Lurg Moor, which was probably associated with the Bishopton fort. (Fragments of Antonine pottery were found during excavation in the 1950s.) And then, moving round the coast, we come to Outerwards, where another Antonine fortlet was excavated in 1970. And that's it. The Roman army left no further traces in Largs district.

The Largs newspaper report mentions "the days when the Romans resided by its shores", but sadly this is probably fantasy. The "old Roman coins and paving underneath the Post Office in Main Street", allegedly found in 1820, were never substantiated. Enquiries in the 1970s failed to turn up any sign of the coins, and it is anybody's guess what the paving tiles were. The "Roman well found in Nelson Street" is probably a half-remembered recollection of a roughly circular Bronze Age burial cist excavated there in the 1950s in advance of construction work. And the final piece of evidence, that "Knock Hill was a Roman fort", is -- unfortunately -- mistaken. Knockside Hill (or Knock Hill), just above Largs, has produced two small cairns, which are presumably prehistoric. There were no associated finds.

It is quite likely that Romans traversed the river valleys down to Irvine Bay, but we are a long way from imagining Romans promenading along the front at Largs.

Romans in Scotland

Things are hotting up for the keenly-awaited cinematic version of Eagle of the Ninth.

Production company Focus Features have announced that the movie will open during the third quarter of 2010. A UK release can be expected thereafter.

According to their publicity, "In 140 AD, twenty years after the unexplained disappearance of the entire Ninth Legion in the mountains of Scotland, young centurion Marcus Aquila (played by Channing Tatum) arrives from Rome to solve the mystery and restore the reputation of his father, the commander of the Ninth. Accompanied only by his British slave Esca (Jamie Bell), Marcus sets out across Hadrian’s Wall into the uncharted highlands of Caledonia – to confront its savage tribes, make peace with his father’s memory, and retrieve the lost legion’s golden emblem, the Eagle of the Ninth. The movie also stars Donald Sutherland, Mark Strong, and Tahar Rahim." Accompanied only by his British slave Esca? So no Wolf?

Also this week, a Fife newspaper, The Dunfermline Press, has revealed that local boys Combat International portrayed Rosemary Sutcliff's Seal tribesmen, right down to the shaved heads. During filming, they were treated to one of the wettest summers in Scottish history. Since AD 140?

Previous posts: Lost Legion | Lost Legion Myth Lives On | Long Awaited Legion

Rome and China

Scholars are sometimes tempted to step outside their area of expertise. This is almost always ill-advised.

I recently attended a public lecture by a figure of international standing. The scholar in question (let's call him Professor X to avoid undue embarrassment) was asked a question about Sino-Roman relations.

This is a perennial chestnut that ranks alongside the Disappearance of the Ninth Legion as a source of public misinformation. Scholars are advised to tread warily.

Nevertheless, rather than admit professional ignorance, Professor X treated us to his antediluvian view of Chinese history, misleading his audience (an unforgivable crime) and exposing his incompetence to any who, like this emperor, happen to know a little about the subject.

Two elements of Professor X's reply stuck in my mind. First, he recommended that his interlocutor purchase a copy of Sir Mortimer Wheeler's Rome Beyond the Imperial Frontiers, a book which is over 50 years old and was already out-of-date when the first reviews appeared. This was a poor suggestion.

Second, he sagely advised his interlocutor, in tones designed to instill professional confidence, that an embassy from Han China had indeed arrived in Rome during the reign of Antoninus Pius, your very own blogger. This, likewise, was a poor suggestion.

Did China know that Rome existed?

The evidence is tricky enough for Sinologists, so what chance does our Romano-British Professor X stand? The best approach would simply have been to present the different threads of evidence and allow common sense to prevail.

It is often stated that ancient Chinese texts refer to the Roman empire. Unfortunately, it's not quite that simple. The texts in question refer to Da-Qin (or Ta-Ch'in), literally "Greater China". Where is this Greater China?

The same ancient texts relate that Da-Qin was also known as Li-jian (or Li-kan, or Lixuan). But Sinologists agree that Li-jian was the Chinese word for Hyrcania (a northern province of the Parthian empire corresponding roughly to present-day Turkmenistan). Not Rome.

This simply serves to illustrate that Chinese writers had only a very vague notion of the west. Their limited repertoire included T'iao-chih (or Tiaozhi), a placename reckoned to represent Seleucia, which lay to the west of Anxi, thought (on no clear authority) to represent Parthia, both of which lay on the great sea (maybe the Persian Gulf, maybe the Indian Ocean, maybe neither).

Did Rome know that China existed?

The eminent Cambridge Sinologist Michael Loewe wisely warns that "identification of Ta-Ch'in and Rome should properly been seen as an abstraction". No Indian, far less Chinese, visitors had ever set foot in the eternal city. So why did Professor X assure us, quite confidently, that the emperor Antoninus Pius had received Chinese visitors?

It would have been a great enough stretch for Chinese authorities to obtain knowledge of India. (See the map, above, borrowed from The Daily Telegraph, which demonstrates the enormous distances involved. And mis-spells Parthia.) In fact, Chinese memories of a "Greater China" in the west may preserve echoes of Alexander's empire rather than the Roman empire. A second century BC king of the Punjab, on meeting a Buddhist philosopher, is said to have remarked that he hailed from "Greater China", and specifically from Alisan, thought by Sinologists to represent the Egyptian city of Alexandria.

A Chinese text known as the Hou-Hanshou records that, in AD 97, Gan Ying "looked upon the Western Sea". If this was the Persian Gulf, he was far-travelled indeed. The mariners on the coast evidently dissuaded the Chinese traveller from proceeding any further on account of the distances and dangers involved. They clearly had only the vaguest notion of the west.

That would have been the end of the matter, except that an embassy sent by "King Andun of Greater China" to the Han court in AD 166 has been explained as a reference to the emperor Marcus Aurelius, on the grounds that Andun sounds like Antoninus!

We really shouldn't dabble in areas beyond our competence!

* See also: No Romans in China