One of the dark moments in the life of Alexander III was the assassination of Parmenion, his father's general par-excellence, which was stemmed from Alexander's execution of Parmenion's son Philotas. Now two theories exist about the incident, the first of which says that Alexander was trying to eliminate the Macedonian nobility and that he headed a conspiracy against Philotas in order to remove Parmenion. The second theory (and the one that I tend towards) is that Alexander led a bunch of willful soldiers, some of whom thought to attack Philotas in order to gain positions for themselves.
Various evidence is cited for both causes, both theoretical and non, but one that I hadn't seen, even though I mentioned it in my thesis is that Alexander clearly did not have a purely biased stance against Parmenion's family. According to Curtius Rufus 6.6.19 (yes, I memorized the location of the quote), Alexander is called the saddest person in the army at the news of Nikanor's death (Nikanor being Philotas' brother), and that he wanted to stay for the funeral, but was lacking in provisions so he had to carry on. This could be a purely literary issue to show Alexander to be a good guy, but I think it goes deeper towards indicating that Alexander was wary of Parmenion and Philotas, but this was true for almost every one of his officers--even those he liked, but that Alexander liked Nikanor and by extension actually liked or at least didn't hate Parmenion and Philotas. This may be a romantic notion, but I believe it, if for no other reason than that if we discount this as a purely literary device and Parmenion's advice as a purely literary device (as I say elsewhere), then we really don't have any sources for this time period and all of it should be thrown into the fiction category.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Murder at Babylon, the problem with pop-history, don't trust everything you read!
The new book Murder at Babylon is atrocious. [an inserted note is that I have not actually read the book, just skimmed a couple of chapters at the bookstore] True enough, it is laudable to go about trying to solve one of history's great mysteries in such a fashion (more on this presently), but troubling is how the information for the search was found, and this became more and more evident throughout.
I suppose that I should first comment on the methodology before proving why this is a mistake and to do this I should set the stage. The year is 323 BCE, sometime during the summer, the place is Babylon, which is Alexander's new capital, the center of the empire and the staging ground for a new wave of campaigns. The Macedonians who are left have been with Alexander since his rise to power after the murder of Philip and have since marched for 13 years and well over 25,000 miles.
Alexander had not been himself since Hephaestion died, nay, even before when he was wounded in India by some native dart. Newly recovered from sickbed, Alexander stormed through and conquered more territory, then crossed the desert, before presiding over a mass marriage and more campaigning, during which he lost his closest companion and even lover. To alleviate the depression that accompanied this loss, Alexander resumed a campaign to punish rebels before crossing into Babylon. Some months Later, Alexander died.
What this book does is approach Alexander's death the way a death in the modern world would be--first reaching the conclusion that it was an unnatural death, largely becuase "the symptoms" don't match any known disease; they do, however, match a number of poisons. After determining that it was poison, the author tracks eight suspects, looking for motive and opportunity to commit such a deed, before concluding that it was Roxane who killed Alexander, not Antipater, Seleukos, Meleagros or any of the other ludicrous possibilities.
Of course poison could have been used--and as much is suggested in the existing sources, but frankly this is rubbish. Poison had a very low success rate unless it was self inflicted, so it is not likely on that account, but also the author discredits himself with his historical research and source use.
None of the existing sources were written within 400 years of Alexander's life and all were based off of two accounts written shortly after Alexander died, by his contemporaries. This fact did not deter the author from using their testimony about symptoms as admissable, and creates an argument for poison based on which symptoms each author chose to use, discounting that any number of them could have been fictional and that there was noone taking down which symptoms were real when Alexander lay dying. As for the historical bent, his history is wrong. While reading the chapter on Seleukos, the author rewrites the plot against Philotas as a plot against Nikanor that was brought about by Seleukos, the second in command of the Hypaspists--with the other officers brought in at the last minute becuase Seleukos was low ranked. In the histories, however, Seleukos is nowhere mentioned, and Nikanor was six months dead by the time that the case against Philotas came to a head.
Rather than properly researching and coming up with suspects, the author has instead shoe-horned Seleukos and Nikanor into an unbelievable situation that is not based in fact while badly misportraying both. Though not to the same degree, he has done similar discredit to his work in the analysis of Meleager, who he judged a suspect because of his jealousy over being low ranked (which could be reasonable if that was not also the reason for his dismissal as a suspect), and Roxane who takes out her jealousy against Statiera and the son of Alexander by killing Alexander, instead of killing Statiera. I need to go back and review his arguments again, but it is much more feasible that if Alexander was poisoned by someone of note that it was done by Antipatros, but even then the most logical explanation is that Alexander was wounded a vast number of times, and that in the end he received an illness, be it malaria or pneumonia or something completely different, and his already weakened body, and lungs in particular, simply could not cope.
In an effort to bring this full circle to the title, there are two reviews of this book on Amazon. They both give the author five stars, though one person admitted that she didn't know what historians would say--that she started with the Oliver Stone movie of Alexander did not bode well for her, though. The other person considered himself an Alexander buff, owning every book made (I call bull on that, by the way, and I have problems with his type, but that is neither here nor there), but the point is that both of them chose this book for readability, not accuracy. I cannot talk about readability since I did not truly read it (though I shuddered at some of the organization), but it was inaccurate.
I suppose that I should first comment on the methodology before proving why this is a mistake and to do this I should set the stage. The year is 323 BCE, sometime during the summer, the place is Babylon, which is Alexander's new capital, the center of the empire and the staging ground for a new wave of campaigns. The Macedonians who are left have been with Alexander since his rise to power after the murder of Philip and have since marched for 13 years and well over 25,000 miles.
Alexander had not been himself since Hephaestion died, nay, even before when he was wounded in India by some native dart. Newly recovered from sickbed, Alexander stormed through and conquered more territory, then crossed the desert, before presiding over a mass marriage and more campaigning, during which he lost his closest companion and even lover. To alleviate the depression that accompanied this loss, Alexander resumed a campaign to punish rebels before crossing into Babylon. Some months Later, Alexander died.
What this book does is approach Alexander's death the way a death in the modern world would be--first reaching the conclusion that it was an unnatural death, largely becuase "the symptoms" don't match any known disease; they do, however, match a number of poisons. After determining that it was poison, the author tracks eight suspects, looking for motive and opportunity to commit such a deed, before concluding that it was Roxane who killed Alexander, not Antipater, Seleukos, Meleagros or any of the other ludicrous possibilities.
Of course poison could have been used--and as much is suggested in the existing sources, but frankly this is rubbish. Poison had a very low success rate unless it was self inflicted, so it is not likely on that account, but also the author discredits himself with his historical research and source use.
None of the existing sources were written within 400 years of Alexander's life and all were based off of two accounts written shortly after Alexander died, by his contemporaries. This fact did not deter the author from using their testimony about symptoms as admissable, and creates an argument for poison based on which symptoms each author chose to use, discounting that any number of them could have been fictional and that there was noone taking down which symptoms were real when Alexander lay dying. As for the historical bent, his history is wrong. While reading the chapter on Seleukos, the author rewrites the plot against Philotas as a plot against Nikanor that was brought about by Seleukos, the second in command of the Hypaspists--with the other officers brought in at the last minute becuase Seleukos was low ranked. In the histories, however, Seleukos is nowhere mentioned, and Nikanor was six months dead by the time that the case against Philotas came to a head.
Rather than properly researching and coming up with suspects, the author has instead shoe-horned Seleukos and Nikanor into an unbelievable situation that is not based in fact while badly misportraying both. Though not to the same degree, he has done similar discredit to his work in the analysis of Meleager, who he judged a suspect because of his jealousy over being low ranked (which could be reasonable if that was not also the reason for his dismissal as a suspect), and Roxane who takes out her jealousy against Statiera and the son of Alexander by killing Alexander, instead of killing Statiera. I need to go back and review his arguments again, but it is much more feasible that if Alexander was poisoned by someone of note that it was done by Antipatros, but even then the most logical explanation is that Alexander was wounded a vast number of times, and that in the end he received an illness, be it malaria or pneumonia or something completely different, and his already weakened body, and lungs in particular, simply could not cope.
In an effort to bring this full circle to the title, there are two reviews of this book on Amazon. They both give the author five stars, though one person admitted that she didn't know what historians would say--that she started with the Oliver Stone movie of Alexander did not bode well for her, though. The other person considered himself an Alexander buff, owning every book made (I call bull on that, by the way, and I have problems with his type, but that is neither here nor there), but the point is that both of them chose this book for readability, not accuracy. I cannot talk about readability since I did not truly read it (though I shuddered at some of the organization), but it was inaccurate.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
"North" is not "Up"
Just a quick note here:
An annoyance when it comes to geographical discussion is the concept of "north" and the basic assumption that that direction will also be referred to as "up" or "upper". The two best examples I know of both refute this assumption: Egypt had an "upper" and a "lower" kingdom. The Upper Kingdom was south and the Lower Kingdom was north since the Upper Kingdom was higher in elevation and up the Nile River; Macedonia had "upper" and "lower" regions as well, with the Upper Macedonian cantons being "up" in the mountains and upriver, but to the west, while lower was on the plain and centralized. North in the Macedonian kingdom was Palioura.
"Up" is a spacial term that is also used for rivers and the basic meaning, elevation.
"North" is a geographical concept of where the needle in the compass points.
Please do not confuse these again.
An annoyance when it comes to geographical discussion is the concept of "north" and the basic assumption that that direction will also be referred to as "up" or "upper". The two best examples I know of both refute this assumption: Egypt had an "upper" and a "lower" kingdom. The Upper Kingdom was south and the Lower Kingdom was north since the Upper Kingdom was higher in elevation and up the Nile River; Macedonia had "upper" and "lower" regions as well, with the Upper Macedonian cantons being "up" in the mountains and upriver, but to the west, while lower was on the plain and centralized. North in the Macedonian kingdom was Palioura.
"Up" is a spacial term that is also used for rivers and the basic meaning, elevation.
"North" is a geographical concept of where the needle in the compass points.
Please do not confuse these again.
This is not one I had heard before
So Alexander died in 323 without a capable heir, and according to some sources he spoke one word to Perdikkas on his deathbed. In one account that word was "kratisto" (since I don't know how to get scripts in here, all Greek words are latinized) which means "the strongest", which implies that the people were going to slug it out. According to another account that word was krat'eroi (stronger), which has the same net effect as kratisto. What I find so interesting here (and this I got from the wikipedia article on Alexander) is that krat'eroi is an accent mark away from krater'oi, which is the dative form of Krateros, so the simplest meaning from it would be "to/for Krateros".
Perdikkas understandably would have changed the word since he had no interest in Krateros succeeding, but it puts Alexander's relationship with people and the position of officers into a whole new light. I find this fascinating, though I have not gone back to the sources to make sure that the wikipedia author is right on that account. The Greek is right though, and the statement is far from implausible.
Perdikkas understandably would have changed the word since he had no interest in Krateros succeeding, but it puts Alexander's relationship with people and the position of officers into a whole new light. I find this fascinating, though I have not gone back to the sources to make sure that the wikipedia author is right on that account. The Greek is right though, and the statement is far from implausible.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Subodei
The list of military figures throughout history who I am in awe of includes this somewhat obscure Mongol general, Ghengis Khan's right hand man. I just finished reading Subotai the Valiant And while the book is not a serious academic exercise in any respect, it was an enjoyable read for someone dabbling in the time period.
What impresses me most about Subodei, the Mongols and their conquests was the apparent disregard for casualties; winning was all that mattered. In this particular warrior culture they continually went against opponents who vastly outnumbered them and always won, largely because of superior tactics, discipline and ferocity. For example, upon invading the Kwarzim Empire in central Asia the Mongols had two thrusts of their attack--the smaller force crossed over the Himalaya Mountains (not for the first time since they had also done so while circling around the Chin empire in China to attack from the south), while the larger thrust crossed a desert. The smaller force (think 20,000 troops) defeated an army of 50,000 upon getting back off the mountain, and the larger one massacred city after city.
Subodei ended up chasing the Shah west to the Caspian sea before being recalled whereupon he rode 1,200 miles in a bit over a week, campaigning some more, then returning to his force. Here he led his 30,000 troops on a reconnaissance mission that lasted three years, traveling 5,500 miles and winning numerous battles. On this scouting mission Subodei crushed the Georgian army (supposedly one of the greatest Christian armies in Europe) not once, but twice, entirely ending any hope they had of joining a crusade; then the Mongols entered Russia and smashed a joint army from the principalities. Even taking into account exaggeration, Subodei lost around 15,000 men in three years, a full half of his force, but killed upwards of 200,000 men in battle and countless other citizens. Survivors were a rarity from battles that the Mongols won simply because they gave chase and killed everyone.
Subodei had a brilliant tactical mind and an even better strategic one, making full use of his mobile forces and their ability to launch coordinated, continuous and ferocious attacks.
What impresses me most about Subodei, the Mongols and their conquests was the apparent disregard for casualties; winning was all that mattered. In this particular warrior culture they continually went against opponents who vastly outnumbered them and always won, largely because of superior tactics, discipline and ferocity. For example, upon invading the Kwarzim Empire in central Asia the Mongols had two thrusts of their attack--the smaller force crossed over the Himalaya Mountains (not for the first time since they had also done so while circling around the Chin empire in China to attack from the south), while the larger thrust crossed a desert. The smaller force (think 20,000 troops) defeated an army of 50,000 upon getting back off the mountain, and the larger one massacred city after city.
Subodei ended up chasing the Shah west to the Caspian sea before being recalled whereupon he rode 1,200 miles in a bit over a week, campaigning some more, then returning to his force. Here he led his 30,000 troops on a reconnaissance mission that lasted three years, traveling 5,500 miles and winning numerous battles. On this scouting mission Subodei crushed the Georgian army (supposedly one of the greatest Christian armies in Europe) not once, but twice, entirely ending any hope they had of joining a crusade; then the Mongols entered Russia and smashed a joint army from the principalities. Even taking into account exaggeration, Subodei lost around 15,000 men in three years, a full half of his force, but killed upwards of 200,000 men in battle and countless other citizens. Survivors were a rarity from battles that the Mongols won simply because they gave chase and killed everyone.
Subodei had a brilliant tactical mind and an even better strategic one, making full use of his mobile forces and their ability to launch coordinated, continuous and ferocious attacks.
Friday, April 18, 2008
What Caused Alexander's Death
Since I am basically out of ideas, I have decided to steal topics from Waldemar Heckel's midterm essay topics.
The ancient sources suggest two possibly causes of death, both of which are likely wrong.
1) He drank himself to death. While drink may have impacted his later life, immediate cause of death was probably pneumonia and therefore not alcohol caused.
2) Someone had him poisoned. Yeah, like I said, pneumonia.
3) -- this is what I think-- Alexander campaigned continuously for fifteen years, marching with his men and receiving numerous wounds. The would that proved to be fatal was an arrow received jumping into an enemy fortress all alone. This arrow peirced his lung and took quite some time to heal. When pneumonia struck about a year and a half later his body simply could not cope.
The ancient sources suggest two possibly causes of death, both of which are likely wrong.
1) He drank himself to death. While drink may have impacted his later life, immediate cause of death was probably pneumonia and therefore not alcohol caused.
2) Someone had him poisoned. Yeah, like I said, pneumonia.
3) -- this is what I think-- Alexander campaigned continuously for fifteen years, marching with his men and receiving numerous wounds. The would that proved to be fatal was an arrow received jumping into an enemy fortress all alone. This arrow peirced his lung and took quite some time to heal. When pneumonia struck about a year and a half later his body simply could not cope.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Why I do what I do
I know I posted about the introduction to Livy back in January, but I want to bring it up again. Throughout the thesis process, one of the questions people keep throwing my direction is "Why are you writing this?" or "What relevance does your topic have?" (two variations on the same question).
There is value in studying history, even history several thousand years old. In the case of Greece and Rome there is something to be said for learning the roots of Western Civilization, but when you get into particulars in those societies, this value becomes obscured simply because you are not looking at the broad spectrum of influence. Instead you have what to most people seem inanities of the subject that you obsess over without any tangible practical value. Further, it is all too possible to get worked up over a piece of minutiae that someone who doesn't know the subject looks at without understanding in the least why you refuse to remove it, but insist that it is a crucial point.
Therefore when I am asked those two questions above, my first reaction is that there is no great value and you should only read it if you are genuinely interested, because otherwise it is just a waste of time for all parties. I do not claim that my writing is good enough, profound enough or relevant enough to life to cause an epiphany for the reader. If it draws them in and makes them want to know more, then I have done my job, but I will leave epiphanies to self help authors and priests, because that is just not what history is really about. More and more I want to explain myself by throwing the (slightly modified) words of Livy back at the interrogator:
"The task of writing history...fills me, I confess with some misgiving, and even were I confident in the value of my work, I should hesitate to say so. I am aware that for historians to make extravagant claims is, and always has been, all too common: every writer on history tends to look down his nose at his less cultivated predecessors, happily persuaded that he will better them in point of style, or bring new facts to light. But however that may be, I shall find satisfaction in contributing, not, I hope, ignobly..."
Livy wrote history as a distraction from his troubled times and because he wanted to. For these reasons I feel close to him. I, as he once did, want to discover the truth, figure out what happened and explain it.
There is value in studying history, even history several thousand years old. In the case of Greece and Rome there is something to be said for learning the roots of Western Civilization, but when you get into particulars in those societies, this value becomes obscured simply because you are not looking at the broad spectrum of influence. Instead you have what to most people seem inanities of the subject that you obsess over without any tangible practical value. Further, it is all too possible to get worked up over a piece of minutiae that someone who doesn't know the subject looks at without understanding in the least why you refuse to remove it, but insist that it is a crucial point.
Therefore when I am asked those two questions above, my first reaction is that there is no great value and you should only read it if you are genuinely interested, because otherwise it is just a waste of time for all parties. I do not claim that my writing is good enough, profound enough or relevant enough to life to cause an epiphany for the reader. If it draws them in and makes them want to know more, then I have done my job, but I will leave epiphanies to self help authors and priests, because that is just not what history is really about. More and more I want to explain myself by throwing the (slightly modified) words of Livy back at the interrogator:
"The task of writing history...fills me, I confess with some misgiving, and even were I confident in the value of my work, I should hesitate to say so. I am aware that for historians to make extravagant claims is, and always has been, all too common: every writer on history tends to look down his nose at his less cultivated predecessors, happily persuaded that he will better them in point of style, or bring new facts to light. But however that may be, I shall find satisfaction in contributing, not, I hope, ignobly..."
Livy wrote history as a distraction from his troubled times and because he wanted to. For these reasons I feel close to him. I, as he once did, want to discover the truth, figure out what happened and explain it.
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