For thousands of years, the Balkans have been a cultural crossroads, where Greek, Byzantine, Slavic, and Ottoman traditions intertwine to create something new. It was this combining of cultures with local traditions that led to the well-documented Eastern European vampire myth. Long before the Slavic “upir” and the vampire fears of the 18th century, Greek folklore had already developed a complex vocabulary of undead beings, demons, and restless spirits. These beliefs traveled along monastic networks and trade routes, and through multilingual border communities. They merged with existing Slavic notions of the supernatural, and the Eastern European vampire was born.

Ancient Greek Proto-Vampires

In proto-Greek myths, one of the earliest monsters of this type is Lamia, a tragic queen transformed into a creature by the goddess Hera. Lamia, queen of Libya, was one of Zeus’s lovers and had several children with him. This earned her the ire of Hera, who took steps to punish Lamia and her children.

Ancient sources, such as Diodorus Siculus, describe Lamia as a creature that wanders at night and eats children, due to her anger for her own lost children. The myth evolved, and by the Hellenistic period, Lamia gained another dimension: she could seduce young, gullible men and drain their lives while they slept. It is precisely this physical draining that is most reminiscent of vampires.

Lamia was not the only such creature in ancient Greece. There was also Empousa, a servant of the goddess Hecate, the goddess of crossroads, the underworld, and witchcraft. Hecate was often depicted with three heads and had the power to control the boundaries between the world of the living and the realm of the dead.

In Aristophanes’ The Frogs, Empousa appears as a shapeshifter, taking on not only animal forms but human ones as well. Just like Lamia, Empousa seduced gullible men, most often travelers, and tore their flesh and drained their blood. After that, the true form of this creature would be revealed, often with one brass leg and one of donkey dung.

Another figure, Mormo, or Mormolykeia, appears frequently in Greek folklore. Mormo was a female spirit or monster, used to frighten children into obedience. It is believed that this creature is a direct inspiration for the Balkan night hags, or bogeywomen.

The Vrykolakas: Greece’s Undead Revenants

In a somewhat later period, another being appears in Greek folklore. While largely inspired by the Greek myths of Lamia and Empousa, it had more characteristics in common with Eastern European vampires. These beings were called Vrykolakas, and were undead believed to arise after a sinful life, excommunication, or burial in unconsecrated ground. These were swollen, undecayed bodies that came out of the grave at night, knocked on doors, caused epidemics, and attacked people. Admittedly, the Vrykolakas did not primarily feed on blood, but the link to later vampire myths seems clear.

The word Vrykolakas (βρυκόλακας) appears only in the late Byzantine period and is most common in the early post-Byzantine period. Many etymologists believe that the term is Slavic rather than Greek, and that it is derived from the old Slavic word for werewolf (vlkodlak).

Regardless of the origin of the word, the creature itself is deeply rooted in Greek folklore and in fears about improper burial as prescribed by Orthodoxy. The Greeks believed that improper burial or spiritual pollution (miasma) could cause the dead to linger. Descriptions of the Vrykolakas from the 16th to 19th centuries portray it as a solid, flesh-and-bone revenant, not a ghost. In 1645, Leo Allatius wrote:

“The vrykolakas is an evil and wicked person who may have been excommunicated by a bishop. Its body swells up so that all its limbs are distended, it is hard, and when tapped it thrums like a drum.”

The Byzantine worldview greatly shaped the Vrykolakas tradition. Orthodox Christianity emphasized the proper handling of the dead, the significance of decomposition as a sign of divine order, and the danger posed by the unburied or the spiritually unatoned. Religious texts warned that an excommunicated person might not decompose and could physically return to disturb the living. There is little doubt that the Vrykolakas were the precursor to the vampires and vampire scares that appeared only a century or two later.

How Orthodox Theology Helped Create the Vampire

The vampire, as it emerged in the Balkans, was not merely a survival of pagan belief but the product of a uniquely Orthodox understanding of the body, the soul, sin, and death.

Orthodoxy has clear rules of burial. For example, the body must be buried in the ground rather than cremated, which was considered a pagan custom. Many Orthodox churches, such as the Serbian Orthodox Church and the Greek Orthodox Church, traditionally refuse a funeral service for persons who choose cremation.

The funeral service, or farewell rite, is the first step of the burial process in Orthodoxy. Then the body is carried to the burial place and laid in the ground, and the earth is poured in the shape of a cross. After the burial, on the 3rd, 9th, and 40th day, and again on the anniversary of death, memorial services are held. These include prayers for the repose of the souls of the deceased. This ritual has remained more or less unchanged through the centuries.

If such a rite was not properly completed without a valid reason, it most often meant that the soul was condemned or could not achieve salvation. There were also situations when the Church itself did not allow the deceased to be buried in this way, most often in cases of suicide, excommunication, cremation, or public renunciation of the faith. These fears around the consequences of improper burial offered fertile ground for the emergence of vampire myths.

The Moment the Undead Became a Vampire

The term “vampire” entered Western European languages, especially German and French, at the beginning of the 18th century, following reports of vampire cases in Southeastern Europe, particularly the Balkans. There were also local variants, for example vampyr, lampir, štrigon, and upir. All of these terms referred to the same being, a corpse that had bypassed decay and risen from the grave, causing illness and deaths in communities. Over time, the myth of vampires spread into areas that were not traditionally Orthodox.

The oldest official written trace of vampires in Eastern Europe comes from the 17th century, from the Slovenian historian Johann Weikhard von Valvasor in his monumental 1689 work “The Glory of the Duchy of Carniola.” However, the term “vampire” was not widespread in his region at the time, so he used the word “štrigon.”

He recorded the case of Jure Grando, a peasant and stonemason from the small Istrian village of Kringa in present-day Croatia. According to tradition, Jure Grando died in 1656, but local villagers claimed that he rose from the grave and terrorized the village. The apparitions lasted for decades, and the inhabitants of Kringa claimed that Grando wandered at night, knocked on doors, and shortly afterward, the person whose door he knocked on would die. Interestingly, Kringa was located near Italy and deep within the Catholic sphere of influence, which shows how quickly the myth of vampires spread in these regions.

The Vampire Epidemic in the 18th Century

Reports of encounters with vampires grew to “epidemic” levels in the 18th century. Numerous official records describe encounters with vampires, record reports of strange deaths or illnesses in villages, and note the disappearance of corpses from graves. The hysteria was so widespread that, on several occasions, the Habsburg authorities sent their officials to investigate what was actually happening. Reports by these officials often contributed to the spread of hysteria rather than calming it.

One of the most infamous vampires of that time was Petar Blagojević, a peasant from the Serbian village of Kisiljevo. After his death in 1725, the other villagers noted a series of mysterious deaths. Allegedly, several villagers saw Petar Blagojević beside their beds shortly before their deaths. Austrian authorities ordered the case to be investigated. The investigation, published in the then Wienerisches Diarium, described how the grave of Petar Blagojević contained a corpse that had not decomposed and had fresh blood around the mouth. For the locals, this was a clear sign of vampirism, so they drove a stake through his heart and burned the corpse.

“The face, hands, and feet, and the whole body were so constituted, and they could not have been more complete in his lifetime. I saw some fresh blood in his mouth, which, according to the common observation, he had sucked from the people killed by him” (Imperial Provisor Ernst Frombald on the case of Petar Blagojević).

The most thoroughly investigated case was that of Arnold Paole, a soldier from the village of Medveđa, Serbia, who allegedly died after falling from a carriage in 1725. Similar to the previous case, following his death, the villagers noticed a series of suspicious deaths. The Habsburgs once again ordered an investigation. In this case as well, the medical report again recorded a corpse that had not decomposed and had fresh blood around the mouth.

How Folklore Became Dracula

Toward the end of the 18th century, the hysteria about vampires that had swept through Eastern Europe began to subside. In many regions, both the Church and state authorities intervened and offered reasonable explanations for unusual events to calm the locals. While vampire beliefs continued in some areas, official reports became increasingly rare.

Interestingly, as belief in vampires in Eastern Europe was disappearing, vampires were becoming more popular in Western literature. In 1819, John Polidori wrote “The Vampyre,” based on stories of Lord Byron, creating the archetype of the noble vampire. Later, the Victorian penny dreadful “Varney the Vampire” paved the way for the Gothic tradition. Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” defined the modern vampire genre, combining folkloric elements with Victorian fears of disease, patriarchy, and “the other.”

Across Britain and Ireland, myths about giants are ubiquitous and form part of the local identity. Figures such as Albion, Fionn mac Cumhaill, and Bendigeidfran represent primordial power, wisdom, and danger. Their stories explain natural wonders like the Giant’s Causeway and the Ring of Brodgar, while dramatizing moral lessons of cunning, resilience, and leadership.

A Gigantic Background

Giants play an important role in British and Irish folklore. Across Europe, they were imagined as the builders of ancient civilizations, but in the British Isles, they were even more prominent as ancestors. Legends describe giants as primordial inhabitants of the British Isles whose “kingdom” preceded the Celtic settlement. Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae (12th century) amplified this tradition, cementing giants within British myth and imagination.

Unlike the Norse giants, who were imagined to be powerful but not necessarily large in size, British giants were envisioned as towering beings large enough to have created mysterious landscapes such as the Giant’s Causeway. Giants also personified the power of nature and were used to explain unexplainable natural phenomena. Their stories, initially preserved through oral tradition, reflected a belief in a larger-than-life heroic age. When giants rubbed shoulders with humans, they were often antagonists, exposing the fragility of the human body and mortality. Discoveries of oversized prehistoric bones reinforced belief in their existence.

Blunderbore

Blunderbore was a prominent figure in English folklore, especially in Cornwall, and exemplifies the role of giants in the traditions of that region. Most famously, Blunderbore appeared in Jack the Giant Killer, and sometimes as the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk. He was associated with the region of Penwith and is typically remembered as a terror of Ludgvan Lese, where he preyed upon travelers.

In his tale, Blunderbore, alongside his brother Rebecks, abducts lords and ladies, intending to consume the men and force the women into marriage. His cruelty, which included hanging the women by their hair until starvation when they resisted his advances, underscores the giant’s role as a monstrous antagonist, without human morality. Jack ultimately defeats Blunderbore through cunning, employing rope nooses to kill both giants.

A variant of the legend occurs in Tom the Tinkeard, a Cornish adaptation of the East Anglian Tom Hickathrift cycle. Here, Blunderbore obstructs the King’s Highway, abducts numerous women, and brings chaos to the land. Tom confronts him using a wagon axle as a weapon, fatally wounding the giant, who then bequeaths his wealth to his worthy opponent and requests burial.

These narratives cast giants as embodiments of tyranny, violence, and contested authority within folklore. Furthermore, the parable features a classic “David and Goliath” battle, where the smaller, underdog prevails against the forces of evil despite the odds by using intelligence over brute strength.

Albion

While Blunderbore might be the most famous British giant, Albion is probably the most important, playing a role in the national foundation myth.

Albion is traditionally described as the tyrannical king who gave Britain its earliest name. He was sometimes described as the son of Poseidon, banished from Greece, who then established dominion over the island. Connecting Britain’s origins to Greek mythology added weight to the story. Early sagas emphasize that Britain’s first inhabitants were giants, sometimes traced to biblical lineages through Noah’s sons Ham or Japheth, reinforcing Albion’s stature as a mythic forefather.

Raphael Holinshed’s Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland recount Albion and his race consolidating power for centuries, until Albion himself was slain in Gaul by Hercules, aided by Zeus’s celestial weapons.

Despite Albion’s defeat, the giant race endured in Britain, particularly in Cornwall, until they were displaced by Brutus of Troy and his followers after the Trojan wars; another connection to the classical world. Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae describes Brutus’s conquest against towering adversaries.

Albion’s legacy extended beyond medieval chronicles: William Blake reimagined him as a colossal archetype of humanity and the nation, embodying spiritual division and the potential for redemption in Jerusalem: The Emanation of the Giant Albion. Thus, Albion symbolizes both Britain’s mythic ancestry and what it means to be British.

Gogmagog

Another Cornish story focused on giants features the giant named Gogmagog. He is most prominently recorded in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae. In this work, Gogmagog is portrayed as one of the last surviving giants of Albion, before he attacked the Trojan colonists led by Brutus.

Gogmagog was captured but kept alive to wrestle Corineus, another Trojan soldier, who hurled him from a cliff at the site later memorialized as “Gogmagog’s Leap.” Corineus went on to become the legendary founder of Cornwall.

Gogmagog’s name is traditionally linked to the biblical Gog and Magog, but alternative etymologies, such as Cawr‑Madog, suggest indigenous origins. Later mythological traditions, notably the 14th‑century Albina story, traced his ancestry to Albina (see below). Irish mythological texts, including the Lebor Gabála Érenn, connect the biblical character Magog to the origins of the Irish, Scythians, and other peoples. Interestingly, Gog and Magog have also endured as emblematic guardians of London, symbolically paraded in the Lord Mayor’s Show each November since 1588.

Albina

Albina is a central figure in British mythic tradition. According to legend, she was the eldest daughter of Diocletian, who is described as either a Roman Emperor or King of Syria, who fathered thirty‑three disobedient daughters. When forced into marriage, the sisters conspired under Albina’s leadership to murder their husbands. Subsequently, their father had all his daughters banished for disobeying him.

Set adrift, Albina and her sisters landed on a fertile, uninhabited land which Albina named Albion. The sisters initially established a utopian society free from patriarchal domination, yet their isolation gave rise to encounters with demons, who appeared in a male human guise to satisfy their desires.

The offspring of these demonic unions grew into giants, grotesque in stature and strength, forming the legendary primordial race of Britain. Reports of unearthed giant bones in the 15th century reinforced the narrative’s perceived historical accuracy. Albina’s story resonates with biblical parallels, particularly the Watchers and Nephilim, situating British folklore within broader traditions around transgression and hybrid progeny. The evil nature of the giants justifies their destruction at the hands of Brutus and Corineus, and the subsequent rise of mankind on the island.

Fionn mac Cumhaill

Fionn mac Cumhaill, Finn McCool, stands as one of the most enduring figures in Irish mythology. His exploits, preserved through oral tradition, were later formalized in the Fenian Cycle. Born posthumously to Cumhall, leader of the Fianna, a group of Irish warriors, the giant Fionn was raised in secrecy, acquiring martial skills and wisdom from eating the Salmon of Knowledge before reclaiming leadership and avenging his father. His wisdom and heroic nature set this Irish giant apart from many British giants.

According to myth, Fionn constructed the Giant’s Causeway as a bridge between Ireland and Scotland to face the giant Benandooner. This allowed local communities to explain this striking geological formation as the handiwork of giants.

Before constructing the bridge, the two giants had exchanged insults across the Irish Sea, prompting Fionn to construct the bridge to confront his adversary in person. However, when he arrived, Fionn discovered that the Scottish giant was far bigger than him. Fionn initially retreats in fear, but his wife Oonagh deceives Benandonner by disguising her husband as an enormous child when he crosses the causeway from Scotland to confront Fionn. Terrified of the imagined father’s size in comparison to his child, Benandonner retreats, tearing up the causeway and leaving remnants in Ireland and Scotland.

Benandonner

Benandonner brings us to Scottish folklore, where he is portrayed as a colossal warrior giant whose name means “Mountain of Thunder.” He is also known for his striking red hair color, connecting him with the Gaelic communities known for this characteristic.

As well as Giant’s Causeway, Benandonner is associated with Fingal’s Cave on the Isle of Staffa, which was considered the Scottish side of the crossing. Both are formed from basaltic lava flows. Another story of the confrontation between Fionn and Benandonner has the former biting off the latter’s finger and hurling it into the sea, creating the Isle of Man.

Brogdar Giants

The Ring of Brodgar, one of Orkney’s most significant prehistoric monuments, is an almost perfect stone circle and the largest of its kind in Scotland. Originally comprising sixty stones, this is another part of the landscape that myth attributed to the presence of giants.

Based on local tradition, the stones are petrified Scottish giants, frozen at dawn after a nocturnal revel in the fields. Legends recount that the giants gathered at Brodgar on a summer night, where one played a fiddle while others danced in a circle beneath the moon. Their merriment shook the earth until the rising sun struck them, transforming the dancers into stone. The fiddler, isolated from the circle, became what is known as the Comet Stone, which remains slightly separate from the rest of the preserved dancers.

Similar stories to explain megalithic stones survive from across Britain. For example, two giants, Ben and Glen, were reportedly turned to stone to form Ben Nevis. Similarly, another giant on the Isle of Skye died after a great battle. He was covered by earth with only his thumb protruding, visible as the Old Man of Storr.

Idris Gawr

A common theme among giant folklore is their association with mountains. There are many instances of large beings falling asleep or expiring and then turning into the landscape over time. The myth of Cadair Idris, “Idris’s Chair,” is an example from Wales. Central to the tradition is Idris Gawr, a giant who was both an astronomer and a warrior. The mountain’s features, including the seemingly bottomless Llyn Cau lake, are linked to tales of giants, fairies, and celestial observation.

Medieval sources such as the Trioedd (Triads) describe Idris contemplating human existence and society from the ridge. As well as his chair atop the mountain, later narratives were expanded to include boulders at its base, which were merely stones to Idris, who had tipped them out of his shoe. Historical annals identify Idris as the King of Meirionnydd (c. 560–632), whose death in battle with Oswald of Northumbria blurs the boundary between legend and record. His grave, Gwely Idris, is reputedly on the mountain.

Bendigeidfran

Bendigeidfran, better known as Brân the Blessed, was a giant and king of Britain in Welsh myth. His name literally means “blessed crow.” He is an integral character in Welsh literary culture, most prominently in the Second Branch of the Mabinogi, Branwen ferch Llŷr, compiled in Middle Welsh during the 12th-13th centuries.

Brân’s most notable narrative begins with the marriage alliance between his sister Branwen and Matholwch, king of Ireland, disrupted by a violent insult from Brân’s brother, Efnysien. Brân offers a magical cauldron capable of reviving the dead as compensation for the disaster, which Matholwch is satisfied with.

However, Branwen is consequently mistreated in Ireland. As a result, Brân marches across the Irish Sea with his army following on ships. The Irish attempt treachery, hiding warriors in flour sacks, but Efnysien thwarts them before sacrificing himself to destroy the cauldron. The ensuing battle devastates both sides, and Brân himself is fatally injured.

According to the Welsh Triads, Brân requested that his severed head be buried beneath the White Hill in London, where the Tower of London now stands, a task which his surviving men oblige. Brân’s head was laid in the earth, facing France, which was said to ward off enemies of Britain as long as it remained there. This proved successful until King Arthur unearthed it.

King Arthur and the Giants

Giants occupy a significant role in Arthurian folklore, in which they serve to personify chaos and violence, and to test sovereignty. In the Historia Regum Britanniae, Arthur repeatedly confronts giants as part of his conception as a legendary hero. Moreover, Arthur’s queen, Gwenhwyfar (Guinevere), is given a giant lineage in the Welsh Triads, though this feature is usually omitted in anglicized versions of Arthurian myths.

The Cornish tale Jack the Giant Killer is connected to the Arthurian legends, with Jack joining forces with Arthur’s son and earning his place at Arthur’s round table through these adventures.

Arthur himself battles with the giant of Mont Saint Michel, a monstrous figure who devastated towns and abducted noble women. Arthur’s duel with this giant dramatizes the clash between human supremacy and giant brutality: though nearly overcome, Arthur strikes decisively, slaying the giant and restoring order.

Such narratives highlight Arthur not only as a warrior but as a cultural protector, whose triumphs over giants symbolize the subjugation of primordial chaos in favor of human residents within Britain.

Giants thus play an integral role in the foundation of the British Isles as its first powerful but chaotic inhabitants who shaped the land, but who were gradually pushed out by new human arrivals who used cunning, valor, and faith to overcome these powerful mythic creatures.

Alexander the Great’s Macedonian army had followed him for over a decade. They had won victories and gone beyond the edge of the known world. They had become one of the most famous and successful armies in history. However, by 324 BC, they had had enough. Their complaint was that he was no longer truly their king. He was becoming a Persian ruler, with Persian followers. The mutiny at Opis showed the divisions between Alexander and his Macedonians. The fact that his speech brought them back shows that they still loved him.

The Army and the Campaign

Alexander the Great had been king of Macedon since 336 BC. Asia Minor had been invaded and conquered (or liberated from another perspective) between 334 BC and 332 BC. Egypt had fallen to him by 331 BC, and the Persian heartlands by 330 BC. His army always included allied contingents, but the core was Macedonian. In particular, the infantry phalanx (long pikemen) and the Companion cavalry (an elite part of the army who fought with the king on one flank) were central to their success.

Over the next six years, Alexander and his army campaigned in Bactria and Sogdiana (the wealthy and powerful eastern satrapies of the Persian Empire) and crossed into India. There, they had seen places previously beyond the experience and imagination of Europeans. They had won victories, including over Porus, a powerful leader in the Indus valley. However, the army had turned back. At the Hyphasis River in 326 BC, the army refused to go further.

Weariness, disease, stretched supply lines, and concerns about large armies and organized kingdoms in the Ganges valley meant that they would not continue. India had proved far bigger and more challenging than the Macedonians could have guessed. That prospect was too much for even this army to face.

Our sources make clear that Alexander felt betrayed by his army finally balking at the demands placed on them. However, there were further campaigns and challenges to face. The army consolidated control of the Indus valley, leaving Porus in command. To return to Babylon and the center of the empire, Alexander took his army across the Gedrosian Desert. This forbidding area, in Southeastern Iran today, had never been successfully crossed by an army. Our sources, including in accounts of Alexander’s Opis speech, make clear that this was part of the appeal for the Macedonian king. It was another chance to do what no one else had done before. However, the crossing was a disaster. Plans to supply the army from the sea failed, and they suffered heavy (if challenging to accurately estimate) casualties.

This was the recent history of the army when they reached Opis, a town in the Persian heartland. Alexander had plans for the future of the empire and the campaign, which would open up a dangerous rift with the Macedonians.

Our Sources for the Events at Opis

Our surviving sources for the life of Alexander the Great come from centuries after his death. They are at least partially based on contemporary materials that have not survived. However, they still write from a distance of both time and perspective.

Diodorus Siculus, a Greek Historian writing in the 1st Century BC in Sicily, covered Alexander as part of his Library of History. This account seems to be based on Cleitarchus, a contemporary historical source. This represents the so-called “vulgate” tradition, a more critical take on many of Alexander’s actions. Two other historians also thought to be part of this vulgate tradition are Quintus Curtius Rufus, a high-ranking Roman writing in the 1st century AD, and Justin, who wrote an abridged summary of a longer work sometime in the 2nd to 4th century AD. Plutarch, a biographer living in the Roman Empire in the 1st century AD, often has a similar version of events to Diodorus, although his concerns are often more moralistic and comparative than purely historical.

Our other main source and perspective comes from Arrian, a Greek historian writing in the 2nd century AD. He also served as a Roman legate and military commander. His account is even further removed from events but seems to have been based on the accounts of Ptolemy and Aristobulus, both of whom were on the campaign with Alexander. Arrian is open about his admiration for Alexander, and he can be uncritical of his actions, although he provides perhaps the most comprehensive account in his Anabasis.

In this case, there is no fundamental difference in the perspective of our two main traditions. Arrian and Quintus Curtius Rufus have long versions of the speech, which differ in wording but not significantly in meaning. The other sources have summaries that cover some of the same points. Arrian includes a relatively unusual (if mild) criticism of Alexander, while the other sources are not overtly hostile. Arrian’s version of the speech and the events surrounding it are the most famous (and elegantly written) and will be quoted from in this piece.

There is a reasonable question about how far we can consider any reported speech from the ancient world to accurately represent what was actually said. This speech in particular has been subject to this question. Bosworth, often a skeptical modern voice on Alexander, claimed that it can only represent at most an outline of Alexander’s words. On the other hand, Tarn argues that the basis of the speech likely came from Ptolemy and so can be somewhat relied upon (Hammond, The speeches in Arrian’s Indica and Anabasis, 2012). Whether Arrian had an accurate account of the speech or only a rough outline, the fact that all of our sources present similar information suggests that the main aspects of the event can be considered to be somewhat reliable.

Alexander’s Plans at Opis

Having returned from India, Alexander seems to have entered into a new phase of consolidating his empire. Our sources tell us that he married a daughter of Darius (Barsine) and possibly another Persian woman as well. Hephaestion, Alexander’s closest friend, also married a daughter of Darius, while 80 other senior Macedonians married high-ranking Persian women.

Within the army as a whole, Arrian tells us that 10,000 marriages of Macedonians to local women were recognized, with gifts given to the men by their king. It may be fair to wonder if all of these 10,000 recognized relationships were seen as marriages by the Macedonians involved.

Beyond this melding of the Persians and Macedonians by marriage, Alexander made changes to his army. 30,000 young men from within the empire were to be trained in the style of the Macedonian phalanx, the backbone of their military success. These new troops were called the Epigoni, or successors, a title unlikely to win any prizes for diplomacy or favor with the Macedonians.

In addition, Persians, Bactrians, and others were allowed to join the Companion cavalry. These new troops were integrated with the Macedonians. Not just an elite military formation, this was a marker of high status, including having access to the king himself. To the Macedonians, they were being replaced by, or at the very least were now in competition with, peoples they saw as enemies and defeated ones at that.

Even Alexander’s attempts at showing generosity to his soldiers seem to have had mixed success. Arrian mentions that he intended to pay off the debts of his soldiers. However, many in the army believed that this was a trick to discover how they had wasted their money and who had borrowed heavily. It was not until debt relief was promised anonymously that the army took up the offer.

In the end, paying this off cost the treasury 20,000 talents, a huge sum. While this story is largely amusing, especially the soldiers’ fear of their king’s disapproval, it is also evidence of a growing lack of trust between them. Arrian has Alexander taking offence at his soldiers’ belief that he would be anything other than sincere.

The Mutiny

Tensions had thus been building up for years. Concerns about Alexander’s embrace of eastern styles and rituals, his allowing himself to be portrayed as the son of a god in Egypt and beyond, the deaths of Cleitus and Parmenio, the grueling campaigns in Bactria, Sogdiana, and India, the crossing of the Gedrosian Desert, and now the growing prominence of the king’s Persian subjects had reached a point where the Macedonians would not accept Alexander’s will without challenge.

When things came to a head, it was not being asked to do too much that led the army to mutiny, but the idea of being sent away. Alexander addressed the army and declared that those who had suffered serious injuries or were too old were to be sent back to Macedon. In total, this was around 10,000 soldiers. Their return was presented as an honor, accompanied by a generous bonus and well-earned retirement. The returning soldiers would inspire a new generation at home, with Antipater (regent of Macedon) under orders to reinforce Alexander with fresh soldiers.

The army rebelled. Believing that this was the final step in marginalizing them, the army began to shout their commander down. They called for him to dismiss them all and “to prosecute the war in company with his father” (Arrian, Anabasis, 7.8.3). This mocking reference to Alexander’s claim to be the son of Zeus-Ammon and the army’s rejection of him provoked Alexander to leap down from the platform into their midst.

Even Arrian’s usually positive perspective here acknowledges that Alexander had become more short-tempered and intolerant by this point in his life (this could well be Ptolemy’s own perspective as a senior figure and friend). 13 ringleaders of the mutiny were seized and taken for execution. Alexander then addressed his army in one of the most famous speeches in the ancient world.

The Speech

Alexander’s speech is detailed in two chapters of Arrian’s Anabasis (7.9-7.10). He made clear that he was not trying to get the army to stay, “As far as I am concerned, you may depart whenever you wish.” Instead, he sought to remind them of all that they had achieved and how much had changed for the Macedonians.

The speech began with Philip, Alexander’s father, perhaps in response to the references to Zeus-Ammon from the army. Famously, Alexander told the army that “he [Philip] found you vagabonds and destitute of means” (7.9). He went on to describe how the Macedonians had risen from hill tribes to become the dominant power, first defeating their barbarian neighbors and then dominating Greece. Alexander goes on to describe his own achievements, compared to which he claimed that his father’s were small.

Alexander’s description of his own history with the army is not just a list of conquests and achievements. This is certainly there, both the areas that they had won, and the wealth and glory that the army had gained. However, there is a greater focus on their shared hardships. Alexander claimed that he had not benefited more than the army had and that he had done everything that the soldiers had. He listed his many injuries, the times he had gone without food, and that he had undergone every journey with them.

This criticism of his men is an insight into Alexander’s leadership. He was not a distant commander but one who saw himself as sharing the experiences of his men and fighting alongside them. There are repeated references to things that Alexander had been the first to do: entering India and crossing the Gedrosian Desert with an army.

The speech presents these actions as the justification of his rule, rather than a reference to his right to rule based on a hereditary principle. That element is not entirely absent, but the argument is that of a warrior and an adventurer, disappointed that all he had done and achieved was being rejected.

The speech ends with a fantastically dismissive statement that when his men returned home, “perhaps this report [that they had deserted him] will be both glorious to you in the eyes of men and devout in the eyes of the gods. Depart” (7.10). The speech also made a pointed reference to the army turning back in India. This was not just a disagreement but a personal lament. At times, Alexander comes across as a disappointed father, at others a man let down by the fact that his followers could not match his greatness, while at others a spurned and rejected lover.

Reconciliation

Following his speech, Alexander returned to his tent for three days. At this time, he refused to see any of the Macedonians, even his bodyguards or Companions. On the third day, the army heard that he was meeting with senior Persians, Bactrians, and others. He was reorganizing the army under new, non-Macedonian leadership, including appointing new generals.

The army’s will to resist their king broke. Our sources have them weeping outside of the tent and refusing to leave until Alexander forgave them. He did, himself being moved to tears. He acknowledged all of the Macedonians as his kinsmen, an important gesture. The army was forgiven, and a joint feast was held, attended by Macedonians and Persians, together with joint sacrifices to the gods. Alexander kept the sons of his Macedonian soldiers and their local women with him. He promised to raise them as Macedonians and reunite them with their families once they reached adulthood.

Alexander got his way. The veterans would return home, led by Craterus, Alexander’s most important general. He would take over as governor in Macedon, while Antipater, the current governor, would come to Asia. The remaining troops would accept the new blended army, and his authority would not be challenged. He had new sources of troops: the Epigoni, reinforcements from home, and, in time, his half-Macedonian children.

It is possible that in sending troops home, Alexander was reacting to other serious issues within his empire, in addition to the tensions between Persians and Macedonians. There had been disloyalty among the satraps left in command while Alexander was on campaign. Craterus and Hephaiston (Alexander’s two closest advisors) had clashed violently in India, while Antipater and Alexander’s mother,r Olympias, were in a state of constant bickering conflict back in Macedon. Arrian dismisses the idea that Antipater was disloyal and that this plan with the soldiers was all a way of removing him from power. However, it is clear that there were wider issues at play as Alexander tried to consolidate his control over his vast empire. However, for the soldiers, it was their place alongside Alexander that mattered.

Alexander and His Army

While the speech comes across dramatically at times, the entire affair shows Alexander’s political genius. He was aware of the affection that his soldiers still had for him and was willing to exploit it to the fullest. We can also see how this style of leadership was not only personal but also emotional. Alexander and his men weep, shout, and show their emotions to the full. This was not a culture that valued stoicism but one that wore its feelings openly. In this way, as in others, Alexander was the exemplar of the adventure and openness of the Hellenistic Period.

Alexander would not long survive these events, dying in Babylon the next year. The veterans sent home would not turn out to be beyond fighting and would play a major role in the wars of their successors. We are left not knowing if Alexander’s plans would have worked and stabilized his empire. However, the mutiny at Opis and the remarkable speech that ended it remain historically fascinating. The speech provides a brilliant summary of the achievements that the Macedonians had accumulated in just two generations.

Beyond that, the division and reconciliation of the king and his followers show us the level of devotion that Alexander engendered, as well as how dangerously frayed it had become after years of campaigning. In the end, the army would not follow through on its threat to abandon Alexander. His speech reminded them of why they had followed him so far.

The world of Mesopotamia during the Old Babylonian period was very different from the modern day. Languages, fashion, and values from this time would appear quite alien. Nevertheless, there were themes that have remained unchanged over the millennia. One such theme is customer complaints. It was an issue 4,000 years ago, just as it is now.

Such became apparent with the deciphering of a clay tablet discovered by Sir Leonard Woolley during his 1920s archaeological expedition to Ur in modern-day Iraq.

The Context of the First Customer Complaint

Just as they are today, trade and record-keeping were important aspects of economic life in ancient Mesopotamia. Unlike today, however, the written word was not printed on paper, but pressed into clay blocks using the cuneiform writing system. This method was used to record religious, historical, and trade practices, the latter including trade with Mesopotamia’s most valuable resources and products.

A hugely important commodity, copper played a central role for many merchants in ancient Mesopotamia. The metal was extracted, cast into ingots, and sold as a high-value resource, making its way across long-distance trade networks in the process. Of course, ancient smelting techniques meant the quality was not always uniform, and this factor was the crux of the matter between Nanni and Ea-nāṣir, the latter being part of a group known as the Dilmun Traders, with “Dilmun” referring to modern-day Bahrain.

The Actual Complaint

“Who do you think you are, treating someone like me with such contempt? […] Is there anyone else among the traders who deal with Dilmun who has treated me this way?”

– From the translation by Adolf Leo Oppenheim

Written on a tiny tablet smaller than an average smartphone, Nanni describes the unsatisfactory nature of his customer experience. Ea-nāṣir had agreed to sell copper ingots to Nanni, and Nanni sent his servant to complete the transaction. Upon receiving the goods, Nanni noted the substandard quality of the copper and added that his servant had been treated poorly.

The poor service was compounded by the fact that Nanni’s servants had to travel through dangerous, hostile territory and returned empty-handed. Buying and selling copper was no simple task! Nanni states that from that point on, he would only select copper in his own yard and reserved the right to refuse substandard ingots.

Nanni wasn’t the only one who complained. Excavation of Ea-nāṣir’s house in Ur yielded several other letters of complaint, not just related to poor quality copper, but also for late delivery. It seems Ea-nāṣir gained a dubious reputation for metallurgical malfeasance.

Significance

From an archaeological perspective, the tablet shows that there was writing, legal processes, and a reasonable expectation of rights during the Old Babylonian period that extended beyond the ruling class. It also serves as insight into everyday life, when so much archaeological evidence of writing pertains to the religious and noble elite.

What it also demonstrates is that there has been a continuity of customer service expectations throughout the ages, going as far back as the ancient era. The writing is a first-hand account that strikes a familiar chord with people living in the present, as virtually everybody has had poor experiences with goods and service providers at some point in their lives.

In recent years, the story went viral, and a host of memes were created, bringing Nanni and Ea-nāṣir’s story back to life. Neither Nanni nor Ea-nāṣir knew that almost four thousand years later, their mundane interaction would gain such fame. Perhaps Ea-nāṣir finally got the notoriety Nanni had wished for him!

A sculptural group, depicting two men, was erected in the Athenian Agora in 510 BC. Although its precise location remains uncertain, since it was not found in situ, its preserved base, together with numerous written sources, offers valuable insights into a significant event in Athens and its meaning. The inscription records a political act, stating: “Indeed, a great light came to the Athenians when Aristogeiton and Harmodios killed Hipparchos.”

Why Were Only Gods Sculpted Until Aristogeiton and Harmodios?

First, it is essential to examine the root of the Greek word agalma (statue) and explain its meaning in order to understand the shift toward the first mortal statues.

The word agalma derives from the verb agállein, which means to exult by glorifying or paying honor. They were the cult images solely of gods, and they were placed on altars to bring to mind the divinity. They carry symbolism by embodying beauty and respect, acting as votive offerings to the Gods. They were devoted to asking the Gods for favor or expressing gratitude for goods and answered prayers. It was a spiritual gesture that evoked delight in the viewer’s soul, while their installation directly imbued a place with sacredness.

There was only one way for mortals to be honored like gods, and that happened when they transcended their humanity and became divine figures—namely, heroes. In this way, the first mortal statues were not simply representations of humans; they captured the extraordinary actions and virtues that elevated individuals to a status worthy of admiration and veneration, bridging the gap between the human and the divine.

Why Harmodios and Aristogeiton Were Worshiped Like Gods

During the Archaic Period, a family of tyrants known as the Peisistratids ruled the city of Athens, shaping the everyday life of its people. Peisistratos was the initial ruler, and after his death in 527 BC, his two sons, Hippias and Hipparchos, assumed control of the tyranny. There were several attempts to exile the tyrants, especially Peisistratos, but he remained in power until his death. However, a crucial event affecting the stability of the tyranny happened during his sons’ rule: the assassination of Hipparchos by Harmodios and Aristogeiton.

The two Athenian aristocrats were referred to as lovers, and they are depicted as killing him together in 514 BC. The assassination took place publicly during the Panathenaic procession and significantly weakened Hippias’s authority, boosting the people’s willingness for change. The people seemed to secretly support it, awaiting this murder as a gift. This risky act eventually contributed to the end of Peisistratid rule a few years later, with Spartan assistance, in 510 BC.

They probably intended to kill both siblings; however, they only managed to kill Hipparchos, and they did not survive for long after their act. Harmodios was killed immediately after the assassination, while Aristogeiton was captured and executed later. Texts, such as the writing of Thucydides, mention that the murder happened for personal reasons. Hipparchos potentially had attempted to court Harmodios, but Harmodios rejected him in favor of Aristogeiton, a choice the tyrant could not tolerate without abusing his authority, leading to a public affront against Harmodios’s sister on the same day.

The two men were later venerated as heroes because their actions revealed the oppression of the regime, and their courage was interpreted as a willingness to save their city from this burden that they themselves could not bear. The statues were ordered by the citizens with public resources, and it is clear from Aristophanes that they were placed in the Agora of Athens.

Although the exact location is in question, Pausanias mentions this pair of statues in proximity to the Temple of Ares before moving on to his description of the Odeion of Agrippa. Their installation in the city points to the symbolism of these statues and the reason that these people were sculpted like the gods. Indeed, they evoked delight in the viewers’ souls and were honored as mortals who contributed to the subsequent good of their city: democracy.

Common Misconceptions About the First Human Statues

It would be natural to assume a link between the first sculpture and well-known heroes already familiar from the Archaic Period before 510 BC, such as Heracles, Achilles, or Theseus. These figures were closely intertwined with the mythical and religious past of the Athenians, presented through mythology as heroes and progenitors of the city. However, these heroes are not proven to have existed as historical individuals. The legends and narratives surrounding them reveal fundamental beliefs of this society and reflect the conceptual and ideal creation of the polis, the city. It was about the community’s enduring need for heroic models that surpassed their mortality, providing the virtues and goods attributed to the gods.

A second question concerning the earliest mortal statues involves the kouroi and korai. These are indeed an earlier category of human statues than Harmodius and Aristogeiton. They could be offered as dedications to gods. One great instance is the famous group of korai found on the Acropolis hill, dedicated to the goddess Athena. They could also serve as grave markers for young people. However, these statues of youthful humans were highly standardized and did not depict specific, historical individuals. Thus, Harmodius and Aristogeiton remain the oldest example of humans in Greek sculpture.

Were the Statues Originally Marble, and How Are They Dated?

The statues that we see today are not the originals of the group that was once erected in the Agora of Athens. The first set was crafted by the sculptor Antenor in copper, which is the first hint that dates the statues to the early Classical Period. The marble cast we can see cannot be identified as the prototype due to its posture, which better fits lighter, hollow bronze than stone. This is why an extra piece was added to the marble cast, imitating the trunk of a tree, because the stone could not be shaped moving in such a way without extra support for balance.

The use of copper gave freedom to the artists to form complex yet more natural positions that couldn’t be crafted in marble. However, copper, as a metal, is a valuable, convertible material, leading to many classical statues having disappeared throughout history.

This first creation of Antenor was installed after the expulsion of Hippias around 511 and 510 BC, but it was taken away by Xerxes after the Persian sack in 480 BC. Later, a new monument, crafted by Kritios and Nesiotes, may have been located in the same place. The first statues of Antenor were returned to Athens by Alexander after he conquered Persia. Unfortunately, due to the use of copper, neither group is preserved today, and we cannot be sure which one the preserved base is based on.

Even though the bronze originals have not survived, the Roman marble casts still show the figures in detail and reveal their early date. Today, they are in the National Archaeological Museum of Naples. The copies do not quite fit either the archaic or classical period because their heads are different from the rest of their bodies in style. Harmodios’s hair seems overly stylized, consisting of rows of snail shell-like curls, while his face is impassive. He also has almond-shaped eyes and a subtle smile, which is called the archaic smile. These characteristics are archaic in style and apply to Aristogeiton’s head as well, which has a rough and almost crudely carved beard.

On the other hand, their bodies are not as static as archaic statues but are dynamic and full of movement, reminiscent of the later contrapposto pose, capturing their lunge to kill Hipparchos and leading us to the Classical Period. These statues are not solely significant for being the first depiction of Athenian citizens, but also because they captured the transition in sculpture that occurred at this time from archaic to classical art.

Harmodios and Aristogeiton were the slayers of the tyrants, leading Athens one step closer to democracy; they were also the first humans in a public place to be worshiped as sacred. Finally, the statues provide evidence of an emerging new classical style, making them some of the most noteworthy statues of antiquity.

The sun slowly rises above the hills of Attica, and it is the dawn of a new day in Athens. Daily life in the Greek polis was chaotic and busy, filled with plenty of noise and activity, and the occasional moment of rest. But this was the pace of life to which the people of Athens were accustomed. From morning until nightfall, life had a certain rhythm dictated by the citizens’ obligation to the city. Discover what a day in the life looked like in Classical Athens.

Dawn and Morning in the Athenian Household

In Classical Athens, productivity was highly valued, and there was not much time for idling. Athenians did not divide time into hours the way we do today. The day began as soon as the sun rose. The first to wake were usually the slaves who prepared breakfast, lit the hearths, and fetched water for drinking. Soon after the slaves, the heads of the household (oikos) and their children would also get up.

Breakfast in Classical Athens was simple. The most common meal was akratisma, which consisted of barley bread soaked in wine, sometimes accompanied by figs and olives. The wine was diluted with water; otherwise, there would be little productivity. Sometimes there were small cakes or pancakes made from spelt flour, but this was not promised and usually depended on the availability of supplies. Since most Athenians saved their calories for the end of the day, breakfast was more a formality and part of the daily routine.

Boys prepared for school, where, after breakfast, they were taken by the loyal household slave paidagogos, responsible for their safety. At school, boys learned reading, writing, athletics, music, and other forms of physical training. Girls did not receive formal education, so after breakfast, they remained at home with their mother, where they learned household duties through helping.

Late Morning in the Civic Center

After breakfast, the day in the civic center could begin. While women remained at home and took care of the household and domestic duties, men left their homes and moved toward the Agora, the central city square. The Agora was exactly what we imagine cities of ancient Greece to be like. Never quiet and peaceful, surrounded by numerous buildings, temples, and covered walkways known as stoas. It was a place where things were sold, produced, and discussed. People specialized in everything from pottery making to philosophy, creating a dynamic and diverse society.

Not far from the main square was the hill of Pnyx, which, from the 6th to the 4th centuries BC, was the official meeting place of the Athenian democratic assembly (Ekklesia). It was here that citizens gathered to vote and listen to speeches by famous orators such as Pericles. It was the place where citizens passed laws and decided the fate of the city, making it the place where Western democracy was born.

Another important civic duty was the people’s court. Athens had around 6,000 citizens chosen by lot who served as jurors, together with hundreds of judges, sometimes more than 500, depending on the seriousness of the case. Jurors received a daily payment, which allowed poorer citizens to participate. There were no professional judges or prosecutors. Instead, the parties themselves presented evidence and defended their cases, or they hired logographers to write speeches for them.

Midday Rest and Afternoon Activities

In the afternoon, life in Athens began to slow down as people tried to escape the heat of the Mediterranean climate. The sun was too strong to remain in open spaces, so many people looked for shade. The Agora, the main square, was still active, but with fewer visitors than in the morning hours. Usually, those who came were people who needed to buy something at the last moment or who simply wanted to avoid the morning crowds.

Ariston was the ancient Greek lunch that was consumed at noon or in the early afternoon hours. It was a quick, simple meal of Mediterranean cuisine, usually bread, dried fruit, olives, cheese, or fish, often with wine, that was again diluted. It served as refreshment before the main daily meal, dinner (deipnon). After eating, Athenians liked to rest in their houses, especially during the summer months. Their houses were built to provide shade during the hottest summer days.

For a certain number of Athenians, the afternoon was a time for physical training and education, especially in the gymnasium and the palaestra. These were complexes with exercise grounds where people trained in running, wrestling, discus, javelin throwing, and other athletic disciplines. In Athens, the most famous were Plato’s Academy, Aristotle’s Lyceum (Lykeion), and Cynosarges. Some other Athenians spent their time in religious rituals at the city’s many temples and shrines. After the hottest hours, as the sun slowly began to set, Athenians returned to their work and brought their duties for that day to a close.

An Evening in the Athenian Home

With the setting of the sun, it was time for the main meal of the day, known as deipnon. Athenians spent the entire day eating lighter meals and saving their stomachs for this large feast. Dinner usually consisted of bread, olives, large quantities of vegetables, cheese, fish, and sometimes other meat as well. The meat of other animals was most often served on special occasions such as festivals or religious holidays, when animal sacrifices were offered to the gods.

Dinner was usually eaten in the courtyard if the weather allowed it. In certain households, women and men dined separately. The andron was a room in the Greek house reserved for men, while the gynaikeion was the women’s quarters.

Light at night was limited and depended on small clay oil lamps fueled by olive oil. These lamps produced just enough light for daily activities to be brought to an end and for preparations for sleep. Because of this, most Athenians finished their day shortly after dinner. However, the wealthier ones, with better lighting, could enjoy the evening hours longer and in greater comfort.

The word symposium comes from the Greek word for “to drink together,” and was a key social event for men in the evening hours. A staple custom for the Athenian elite, it included the consumption of wine, conversations, music, and entertainment. After a meal, guests would recline on couches (kline) in the andron, where they drank wine diluted with water from a large vessel known as a krater.

In ancient Greece, drinking wine that was not diluted with water was considered barbaric and uncivilized. For a symposium, the host would decide the proper water-to-wine ratio, which would set the tone for the evening; intellectual debate versus debauchery. Athenians also played a popular drinking game called kottabos, where players, reclining, threw the remaining drops of wine from their cups (kylix) toward a specific target.

Although wives were excluded from these gatherings, men were sometimes joined by hetairai, highly educated courtesans who enjoyed considerable freedom, owned property, and influenced politicians and artists. They played music, danced, and participated in intellectual discussions.

Nightfall in Classical Athens

After the oil lamps burned out for the day and the parties had quieted down, the streets of Athens became eerily empty and silent. If you were walking at night, you might encounter only guards, travelers arriving late, or the occasional drunken Athenian returning from a symposium and searching for the alley that led to his house. It was time for bed. Athenian beds were usually made of wooden frames with woven straps supporting a mattress stuffed with wool, feathers, or plant fibers.

Interestingly, men and women often slept in separate rooms, with men sleeping alone while women slept with the children. Before going to sleep, they would pray to the gods, especially to Hestia, who was the goddess of the hearth and the home. The fire in the hearth was often left to smolder rather than burn out completely so that it could be more easily rekindled the next morning. Crime at night did exist, but it was rare, and some households had their own slaves who would keep watch during the night.

Athenians usually got between seven and nine hours of sleep, although sometimes sleep was segmented, meaning they would wake in the middle of the night and remain awake for a short period. During this time, they might check the fire in the hearth, talk quietly, pray, or step outside for fresh air. Segmented sleep was especially common in winter when people woke more often to maintain the fire.

Rome’s history was one of conflict. From the moment of its mythical founding until the last emperor left the throne vacant, Rome was almost constantly at war. Like many ancient city-states, Rome started with a part-time citizen army, but as its Empire expanded, it developed a full-fledged, professional military machine. At its height, the Roman army had around thirty legions, each with four to six thousand men, all of whom had to be supplied with weapons, armor, food, regular pay, and a host of other costs. This was massively expensive. To keep the war machine rolling, Rome had to tax its population, even to the point of economic ruin.

The Early Days of Rome’s Military

Early in Rome’s history, the need for taxes to keep the military funded was limited. During the era of kings and the very early Republic, Rome did not have a formal military. It improvised ad hoc militia that would put down their plows and hammers and pick up spears and swords, strap on armor, and fight in limited engagements. For the first few centuries of Rome’s existence, these fights were short, local affairs for control of the area around the seven hills that made up the settlement. Wars, if they could even be called that, lasted a few days to a handful of weeks at most. These citizen soldiers did not require any expenditure from the treasury. The equipment used by these troops was based on the Greek hoplite, which they learned from Greek colonies on the southern tip of the Italian peninsula.

By the time of the Punic Wars in the mid-Republic, this system had evolved into a multi-layered arrangement, based on experience and equipment type. The poorest and youngest soldiers were velites, who were lightly equipped and acted as skirmishers. Behind them were slightly older and wealthier soldiers who made up the hastati, who fought using larger shields, heavier armor, javelins, and short swords. Behind them were wealthy men who were equipped the same way, but of higher quality, called the principes. The last in the battle line were the triarii, who were the oldest, wealthiest, and most experienced soldiers, wielding spears and wearing the best quality armor available. Cavalry was provided by those who could afford a horse. The common factor is that all of these men provided their own equipment.

As Rome expanded its international influence, campaigns were longer in duration. This started causing problems, since the only men eligible for military service were landowners. The Romans believed that only men who had a vested interest in the survival of the state could be trusted to fight for it. This meant that the men who fought were rich enough to equip themselves. However, it also meant that by the time of the late Republic, these same men would be away from their homes for years at a time on protracted campaigns, and did so without being paid. There were some exceptions to this. In times of emergency, landless citizens could be recruited and their equipment paid for or provided by the state, as was the case during Hannibal’s campaign during the Second Punic War.

Taxes in the Republic

During this early era, Rome’s military had minimal impact on the treasury or taxation, but taxes still flowed in. One source of revenue was plunder. A certain percentage of wealth taken from conquered foes would go to state coffers, which is one possible reason why Rome was so expansionist. A large portion of Rome’s revenue, however, came from its own citizens. In the earliest days, the Romans levied a 1% tax on the total wealth of a household. This number could increase to 3% in times of emergency, though this was rarely done. The household, an estate under the leadership of a paterfamilias, was assessed based on land owned, its productivity, the number of slaves, the size of animal herds, and monetary wealth.

The censors, government officials who made these determinations, would classify each citizen into different categories based on their wealth. However, in spite of their best efforts, this was inefficient and haphazard. Many were both over and undercharged, though refunds were available for those who were assessed at too high a rate.

In 167 BC, conquests, including the rich silver mines of Hispania (Spain), meant that enough wealth was able to flow into the treasury that taxes on Roman citizens were eased. The provinces took up much of the fiscal burden. The censors had enough problems keeping track of the Roman citizens in Italy, never mind the provinces, so a simpler way was devised. Provincial governors would be responsible for collecting taxes on a province-wide basis. Rather than directly collect the taxes at a fixed rate, the role of tax collector would be auctioned off to private individuals called publicani. The money given to Rome by the publicani was a sort of loan, which would be paid back to the individual tax collector with interest.

Tax collectors assessed the wealth in each province and collected an agreed amount for the treasury. It was paid in currency, but also goods, such as grain, animals, or luxury items, would be liquidated and turned into currency. After paying the agreed amount, whatever extra the publicani raised was his to keep. As can be imagined, this led to incredible corruption, with tax collectors extorting provincials for more than they actually owed. They could also collude with local officials to maximize profit. For example, they could underreport the amount of grain grown in a region and store it. They would then report the hidden grain during famines when prices were higher, increasing their cut.

Taxes and the Professional Military

During the final days of the Republic, the military underwent a revolutionary change. Gaius Marius did away with the property restriction and opened up the ranks to any Roman male citizen regardless of social class. Of course, these recruits would not have the finances to provide their own equipment. From that point on, Rome’s military was recruited, trained, and equipped at state expense. The exact system would evolve over the years, becoming more refined, but from the time of the Marian reforms, the legions would be the greatest expense of the Roman state.

The Roman tax system had to evolve as well. Under Augustus, the system was reformed into a more streamlined format. Rather than farming it out to outside contractors, taxes were levied directly on the provinces and paid straight into the treasury. As had been the case, the tax was a 1% wealth tax as well as a flat poll tax for each adult. These would be supplemented by sales tax on slaves at 4% as well as customs and import duties at ports. There was also a “freedom tax.” Slaves were allowed to work for extra income and buy their freedom, which came with a 5% tax on manumission. There was also an inheritance tax for the heirs of the deceased.

These funds went to the general coffers, which kept the military up and running, but there was one tax that was designated specifically for Rome’s legions. Auctions were taxed on their profits, which went to the legionary’s pension fund. Subsequent emperors implemented their own tax reforms based on the needs of the Empire or their own inclinations.

The constant flow of money into the treasury kept the massive war machine rolling. This helped fuel expansion, since the wealth of newly conquered territories helped fill the treasury. When Roman expansion ground to a halt, this became more of a problem. This massive force was still needed to guard Rome’s frontiers, and required massive expenditure, with little, if any, financial return.

Blatant Bribery

Having a professional military is expensive under normal circumstances. Weapons, armor, equipment, shelter, food, medical supplies, base pay, and a pension fund were all provided at state expense for hundreds of thousands of men over a continent-spanning empire. In addition, if there are thousands of heavily armed, disciplined, and organized men, it is best to keep them on the ruler’s good side. To keep the legionaries happy and prevent revolts, donatives, special irregular payments, were made. Though it was often characterized as a gift to the hard-working legionaries, they were blatant bribes.

Every time a new emperor ascended to the throne, he issued a donative to the troops, giving them a sum of money as a way to ingratiate himself and solidify his power. The most blatantly corrupt soldiers were the Praetorian Guards, the emperor’s bodyguards. Of course, they were given the largest donatives, since it’s best to keep one’s bodyguards happy. This turned into a money-making racket, with the Praetorians openly extorting the emperors into larger and larger gifts for their loyalty. This came to a head in 193 after the death of Commodus. He was succeeded by Pertinax, who tried to rein in the extravagant spending and only provided a modest donative. He was overthrown after less than three months. The Praetorians then took on the role of kingmaker, literally auctioning off the throne to the highest bidder, Didius Julianus, who was himself overthrown a few months later.

The Army’s Greed Bankrupts the Empire

Though the Praetorian Guard was the most greedy and blatant example, soldiers around the empire expected a generous gift every time a new emperor took the throne. During the Crisis of the Third Century, the imperial throne was held by a revolving door of claimants, many of whom never even reached Rome to take the reins of power. Part of the reason was the soldiers themselves. Should a general win a victory, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, his legions would declare him emperor and demand that he march on Rome to overthrow the current ruler. Within their acclamation was an undercurrent of a threat. Should the general not stake a claim in power, his troops would see him meet an unfortunate end.

In short, money from the treasury was spent not only on weapons, armor, food, and other logistics needed for a military, but also on overt corruption. The army was a cash-grabbing institution that required ever-increasing bribes to stay loyal. Taxes had to be raised to meet the demand for gifts to keep the army loyal, which pushed the empire’s finances to the breaking point. Tax revenues, which were falling anyway due to a general economic slump, weren’t enough to keep the army happy. Something else was needed, and the solution would cause more issues than it solved.

Debasing the Currency

From the time of the Punic Wars, Rome minted its own currency in the form of several denominations of coins, including the famous denarius. It was the backbone of the Roman economy, made of around 95% silver. Other coins were also minted, including smaller coins made from bronze and a gold coin from the reign of Augustus. The purity remained relatively unchanged for centuries, so anywhere in the Roman world, from Gaul to Egypt to Anatolia to Hispania, all had the same dependable, standardized currency.

One of the first emperors to debase the currency was Nero. To fund military operations and large public works, he had the denarius lowered in silver purity. It was a small amount, with the coin changing from 3.9 grams of silver per coin to 3.4, but it caused economic instability. Centuries of trust in the purity of coinage evaporated instantly. Inflation, or the lowering of the value of money, took hold.

Later emperors continued to chip away at the purity of the currency. By the time of the emperor Caracalla at the beginning of the 3rd century, it was only 50% silver. During the Crisis of the Third Century, generals scrambled for ways to pay their troops to keep them loyal. However, they didn’t always have access to the quantities of silver needed, and tax revenues continued to drop. By the reign of Gallienus in the mid-3rd century, the denarius was about 2% silver. Basically, it was a piece of copper with a thin and easily worn silver coating. It is important to note that military spending, legitimate or otherwise, was not the only reason for the currency debasement, but it was a major factor.

An Unstable Economy

Rampant inflation increased the cost of even the simplest transactions. Older, purer coins were hoarded rather than spent, taking them out of circulation. The interconnected economic network that spanned the Roman world came apart, with many resorting to cumbersome barter, which makes complex economics difficult if not outright impossible. For the army, the inflation meant they demanded higher and higher donatives to stay loyal. Emperors had to pay them more and more to keep them from revolting, which meant that they had to debase the currency further, a cycle that spiraled out of control. Later emperors would try to stabilize the chaotic situation, but the damage was done.

In the end, the Roman army was a massive expense for the Roman state and taxpayers. When expanding to new lands, the cost could be absorbed by tributes and plunder, but once the empire reached its territorial limit, these sources of revenue dried up. The cost of maintaining such a large military was then placed on the taxpayer, who could not keep up with the demand. Soldiers expected higher and higher bribes for loyalty, which led to the debasement of the currency, causing economic chaos. This was not the only factor, but the economic struggle caused by the large military was one of the factors that contributed to the decline and fall of the Roman Empire.

The death of Nero, the last Julio-Claudian emperor, was as turbulent a time in Rome as the fall of the Republic. Augustus established the Principate as a uniquely Julio-Claudian destiny, so that for centuries after the bloodline ended, rulers continued to use the cognomen Caesar. That meant that for Vespasian, winning the civil war of 69 AD was only part of the challenge. Vespasian had to prove that he had the right to wear the imperial laurel crown, and that what was once a Julio-Claudian destiny could now be a Flavian one, setting his sons up as his successors. One strategy he employed was using omens, signs, and prophecies to communicate that he was chosen by the gods, drawing on Roman religious traditions and Augustus’ example.

Signs of Greatness

When Nero died, Vespasian was at the head of the Roman armies in the east, dealing with the Jewish Revolt. According to the contemporary historian Tacitus, when he was deciding whether he should make a play for power, the people around him reminded Vespasian of the prophecies and omens that had marked him out for greatness (Histories 2.78ff.).

As a chosen example, Tacitus recounts an omen of a cypress tree on Vespasian’s country estate, which, when he was still a young man, suddenly fell without cause but then rose the next day in the same spot, stronger than before. This was interpreted by priests as a sign that Vespasian was destined for greatness. Vespasian, who is described by Tacitus as credulous of divine signs, had believed that this destiny was being fulfilled, as he had won the consulship and earned the prestigious command in Judea. He now wondered whether the omen could have been a sign of something even greater: the imperial purple.

The biographer Suetonius gives a much longer list of omens known in his day, about 50 years after the death of Vespasian, which also marked him out for imperial power. Many of these were probably invented retrospectively (Suetonius, Vespasian 5.2-7).

Seeking Prophecies

It is unclear whether Vespasian and his entourage were true believers or if this was a strategy meeting. Either way, they played into the idea of a divine destiny. While traveling from Judea to Syria, Vespasian made a detour to Mount Carmel, where he worshiped at the altar of an unknown god. There he met a priest called Basilides, which means kingly, itself a sign, who told him, based on the entrails of his victim, that whatever he was planning, the gods were ready to grant him even more.

According to Tacitus and Suetonius, when Vespasian reached Alexandria in Egypt, he visited the temple of Serapis, where he also consulted the auspices about his future. After this, Vespasian found himself with miraculous healing powers. A blind man and a lame man approached Vespasian, claiming that Serapis had told them in a dream that Vespasian could heal them. Though Vespasian himself was initially incredulous, he did so successfully (Tacitus, Histories, 4.81; Suetonius, Vespasian 7.2).

One of Vespasian’s tame Jewish captives, who he would later sponsor to become a Roman citizen, Flavius Josephus, reportedly earlier reinterpreted a Jewish prophecy, previously thought to be about the messiah, to mean that Vespasian would become emperor of Rome (Jewish War 3.400-408).

Such a large collection of signs and prophecies suggests that Vespasian was gathering evidence to make his case.

Signs and Omens in the Roman World

The Romans believed that their gods had opinions about what should happen in the mortal world and actively sent signs to confirm their desires and approval.

Divine guidance was sometimes actively sought. For example, the Romans had specialist haruspices to interpret the entrails of sacrificial victims to determine the will of the gods. Similarly, they consulted the Sibylline Books following their loss at the Battle of Cannae against Hannibal, which prompted them to make unusual human sacrifices.

Signs even played a role in the founding of Rome. According to the legend, Romulus and Remus could not agree on where exactly to establish their new city, so they decided to wait for a sign in the form of augury, which is the flight of birds. Sitting on the Aventine Hill, Remus saw six vultures, which he took as a sign. But while sitting on the Palatine Hill, Romulus then saw 12 vultures. Remus argued that his sign took precedence because it had come first, while Romulus argued in favor of his greater number of vultures. In the end, Romulus killed Remus, and Rome was centered around the Palatine Hill.

Signs like auguries could be sought (impetrativa) or unsought (oblativa), which were considered equally important. When the future king Lucius Tarquinius Priscus arrived in Rome, an eagle swooped down and took his hat and then returned it to him. This was interpreted as an omen of future kingship. Omens could also be negative. For example, before Hannibal invaded Italy, an ox was seen climbing stairs and jumping out a window, and it rained stones.

Roman history was typically recorded in the form of annals, with year-by-year accounts. Traditionally, these annals started each year with a list of omens and portents, highlighting their importance.

Divine Descent and Patronage

Signs and omens were used to demonstrate the favor of the gods for Rome and certain courses of action. Individual Romans also used signs to help guide their actions, and sometimes shared omens as a way of suggesting to others that they were divinely favored.

It was already common for aristocratic Roman families to claim descent from the divine. The most famous case is that of the Julian clan. They claimed to be descended from Venus through her son, Aeneas, and his son, Ascanius, whom they claimed as their ancestor. But the Aemilii also claimed descent from Jupiter and the Caecilii from Vulcan.

With the rise of the military strongmen at the end of the Republic, individual generals sometimes claimed personal divine patrons. Most famously, Sulla recognized Venus as his personal patron. He claimed that during his war with Mithridates, he had a dream in which the goddess appeared before him in full armor and led his army. He then visited the Oracle at Delphi, where it was confirmed that Venus was his patroness.

While campaigning in the east, he adopted the name Epaphroditus, meaning favored by Aphrodite, the Greek name for Venus. Following his success at the Battle of Chaeronea, he dedicated a trophy to Mars, the god of war, Victoria, the goddess of victory, and Venus, his personal patron. She also featured on many of the coins he minted.

Augustus and His Patron Apollo

Augustus claimed Apollo as his patron. It reportedly started with a rumor that his mother, Atia, the niece of Julius Caesar and a member of Venus’ Julian gens, had spent a night in the temple of Apollo, where she was visited by a serpent that left a mark on her. Ten months later, she gave birth to Octavian, later known as Augustus, suggesting that Apollo was his father. He later claimed Apollo as his patron.

Interestingly, the Liberators who assassinated Julius Caesar also claimed the patronage of Apollo, and he featured on many of the coins they minted. They also reportedly used Apollo as their camp password during the Battle of Philippi. Some sources suggest that Augustus used the same password for his own camp. Therefore, when he won the battle in 42 BC, Apollo had chosen his champion.

He later claimed Apollo as his patron again in the fight against the pirate Sextus Pompey, who styled himself as the son of Neptune, the god of the sea. Following his success, Augustus dedicated a temple to Apollo on the Palatine Hill adjoining his own home, which he sometimes used as a kind of entrance to his home for welcoming guests. He later claimed Apollo’s assistance in his defeat of Mark Antony at the Battle of Actium in 31 BC.

Clearly divinely favored, Augustus’ rise to power was also reportedly confirmed by many omens. Augustus makes no mention of these himself in his account of his achievements, his Res Gestae, but mentions of them appear throughout the sources. The biographer Suetonius gives a long list of omens that signaled Augustus’ future. They also appear in the works of the Augustan poets who praised the new Augustan Age. This suggests that these omens and portents were widely circulated throughout the first emperor’s reign as evidence that Augustus’ destiny was supported by the gods.

Eastern Favor

Another characteristic of Augustus’ propaganda campaign to establish himself as the ruler of Rome was his vilification of Mark Antony. Augustus claimed that while he and Apollo represented traditional Roman values, Antony, commanding the eastern half of the empire and embroiled in an alliance or love affair with the Egyptian queen Cleopatra, represented eastern decadence. This included an association with Dionysus, the god of wine and festivity.

Considering this vilification of the East, it is interesting that Vespasian’s propaganda campaign took advantage of eastern deities, but did so in a uniquely Roman fashion. Josephus’ prophecy said that a man from the east would rise to rule the world. While most people thought this meant that the messiah would emerge from Judea, Josephus conveniently interpreted it as a Roman general commanding in the east becoming emperor of Rome.

This idea also appears in a portent mentioned by Suetonius at the Battle of Bedriacum, which was between Otho and Vitellius. Suetonius said that before the battle, two eagles were seen battling in the sky. When one eagle won, another flew in from the east and attacked and killed it. This portent, almost certainly invented after Vespasian’s ultimate victory, aligns with the idea of a general from the east rising to power.

Vespasian then visited with eastern gods. This may have been a matter of convenience, since that was where he was, and none of his opponents were in the area to refute the information received or how it was interpreted. It may also have been that eastern gods, and specifically Egyptian gods, were seen as more esoteric, so they might do things that Roman gods would not, such as give Vespasian healing powers.

Belief in Vespasian’s healing powers may have been relatively widespread, as the Flavians seem to have been connected with healing even after the fall of their dynasty. Under Antoninus Pius, in the middle of the 2nd century AD, a college of Aesculapius and Hygeia, healing deities, met in the temple of Divus Titus, Vespasian’s posthumously deified son, in the Porticus Divorum dedicated to both Divus Titus and Divus Vespasianus (CIL 6.10234).

Egyptian gods, especially Serapis and Isis, were also increasingly popular in Rome, potentially explaining why they were chosen over other eastern deities.

A Family Affair

While the idea of divine favor from the east may have started with the first Flavian, it was a policy that seems to have been followed by his two sons and successors, Titus and Domitian.

Like his father, Titus took a deliberate trip to the oracle of Aphrodite at Paphos in 69 AD, which also encouraged him to hope for imperial power (Suetonius, Titus 5.1). Titus may also have been associated with miraculous activity. His troops reportedly enjoyed a miraculous abundance of water, while that of their opponent dried up (Josephus, Jewish War 5.409-411). Suetonius says that Titus used any means, human or divine, to end a plague, again perhaps indicating a divine miracle (Suetonius, Titus 8.4). It is also worth noting that no emperor before Vespasian is credited with personally engaging in miraculous activities, but five of the eight emperors who followed him were.

While Domitian was not associated with any miracles, he was associated with an Egyptian goddess, Isis. When Vitellian and Flavian forces were fighting in Rome at the end of 69 AD, Domitian reportedly disguised himself as a devotee of Isis, which enabled him to slip past Vitellius’ men with the help of the goddess. This seems like a story used to align Domitian with his father’s propaganda campaign.

Suetonius also records a portent that Vespasian reportedly received earlier in life, before he was a great general, that pointed to the future of his children. He said that on a suburban Flavian estate, there was an oak tree sacred to the god Mars. Every time one of Vespasian’s children was born, a branch suddenly sprang forth from its trunk, obviously indicating that child’s future. The first was slender and withered quickly, as did the daughter who died as an infant. The second, coinciding with the birth of Titus, was strong and long, while the third, linked with Domitian, was the image of the tree (Suetonius, Vespasian 5.2).

This story must have been invented during the reign of Domitian. When Vespasian was on the rise, he was accompanied by his son Titus, more than ten years older than Domitian, who was being groomed as a great general. Domitian was still a youth living in Rome. All indications throughout Vespasian’s reign were that Titus would be his strong successor. There was no indication that he would die young after just two years in power. Therefore, the story must have been invented to promote Domitian. But while the story points to a divine destiny for Domitian, its purpose seems to be more to paint Domitian as the true successor of his father, Vespasian, and brush over the importance of his older brother.

Domitian had a different tactic. He had his father, brother, son, and a female family member called Domitilla, either his mother or sister, all posthumously deified. Like Augustus became divi filius when he deified Caesar, Domitian became the son, brother, and father of gods. He then chose Minerva as his personal patron deity.

“I Think I’m Becoming a God”

While Vespasian certainly seems to have made good use of omens and prophecies in his campaign to establish himself as Rome’s first, true, non-Julio-Claudian emperor, he may have been more cynical than the ancient authors sometimes suggest.

When Vespasian’s death was on the horizon, there was apparently a portent that the Mausoleum of Augustus opened suddenly, and a comet appeared in the heavens, like the comet that had appeared to confirm the apotheosis of Julius Caesar. He reportedly brushed them off, saying that the first was an omen for Junia Calvina, a member of Augustus’ family, and the second was the Parthian king, since the comet reflected his long hair. But Suetonius also claimed that Vespasian uttered the now-famous words: “Oh dear, I think I’m becoming a god.” What could be more ominous?

From ancient writings and modern films, we are presented with an image of the Spartans as fearless warriors, born for war and always ready for battle. We are left to imagine a brutal system in which boys, if they were not thrown off a cliff at birth, were trained from an early age to live for war. This gives the false impression that Sparta was more of a military camp than a functioning Greek polis. But much of what we think we know about Sparta comes from outsiders who admired, feared, or deliberately mythologized Spartan discipline. Although the Spartans were indeed brave warriors, their community went far beyond one built solely for combat.

Sparta Was Not a Military Camp but a Functional Polis

Sparta is often described as a polis organized around warfare, where almost every aspect of life was in some way connected to war. This view has been most strongly influenced by ancient writers, known for exaggeration and mythologizing, especially Xenophon and Plutarch.

“No man was allowed to live as he pleased, but in their city, as in a military encampment, they always had a prescribed regimen and employment in public service, considering that they belonged entirely to their country and not to themselves” (Plutarch, Life of Lycurgus 24).

In reality, Sparta was a functional polis like most other Greek poleis, with its own social, political, and religious institutions and clearly defined laws. Its legislation was largely defined by the lawgiver Lycurgus, who lived between the 9th and 8th centuries BC. At the center of Spartan government was an unusual dual kingship (diarchy) system. The kings were chosen from two historically important lineages for the Spartans, the Agiads and the Eurypontids. Both held equal power, acting as a check on the other (much like the Roman consuls). This system of rule lasted until the end of the 3rd century BC.

Alongside the kings stood the Gerousia, a council of 28 Spartans over the age of 60. The Gerousia was the main legislative and judicial body of Sparta. In addition to the Gerousia, there was also the Apella, the popular assembly composed of all full male citizens over the age of 30. The Apella met once a month, and voting took place on matters of war, peace, alliances, succession to the throne, and laws.

Another institution specific to Sparta was the ephors, five officials who were elected annually from among the full citizens. They oversaw both foreign and domestic policy, and even supervised the actions of the kings. They held enormous power, including control over the helots and the authority to arrest kings.

The Spartan Agōgē as a System of Education

Before joining the general assembly, a young Spartan citizen had to complete their education. At the center of the Spartan educational system was the agōgē, a mandatory, state-sponsored education system. While it emphasized physical endurance, this was not its only aspect.

The primary goal of the agōgē was to transform boys into full citizens who contributed to society and respected its hierarchy and laws. At the age of seven, boys were taken from their homes to state “schools,” where their education lasted until the age of 30. To shape them into warriors ready to give their lives for their homeland, students were exposed to harsh conditions, hunger, military exercises, and tests of pain tolerance, plus they learned skills such as hunting, dancing, and singing.

Unlike, for example, in Athens, literacy and intellectual refinement were secondary in this educational system, though not entirely neglected. Spartans, who called themselves Spartiates, learned how to speak clearly and control their speech. This approach to speaking became known as Laconic speech. It meant speaking in a short, clear, and concise manner, aiming to say as much as possible with as few words as possible. After invading Greece and receiving the submission of other key city-states, Philip II of Macedon sent a message to Sparta: “If I invade Laconia, you will be destroyed, never to rise again.” The Spartan ephors replied with a single word: “If.”

This type of removal of children from their homes into military schools was not unique to Sparta, but the Spartans elevated it to a higher level.

Life in Sparta Between Campaigns

In Archaic and Classical Greece, military campaigns were seasonal; that is, wars were usually fought from late spring to early autumn, when weather conditions and agricultural cycles enabled the mobilization of the population. The same applied to the Spartans; they did not remain on battlefields year-round, nor did the polis maintain a continuously deployed standing force abroad. Between campaigns, soldiers returned to Laconia and resumed their social and civic responsibilities.

At home, the Spartans spent much of their time between campaigns overseeing the helot population, which provided agricultural labor. Helots were slaves who were tied to the land of a master for whom they worked. However, they were not the property of that master, but of the state, and masters were assigned to them by lot. The helots were mostly descendants of the indigenous Messenian population whom the Spartiates had enslaved. They lived in terrible conditions, which often led them to rebel. The Spartans often organized krypteia, expeditions in which they brutally killed suspicious helots, to keep the population under control.

Women in Ancient Sparta

Women in Sparta held a role that was unusual in ancient Greece. Although they did not formally participate in political processes, they exerted significant influence in shaping Spartan society.

Their education was also based primarily on physical training, though not to the same extent as it was for boys. From an early age, young Spartan girls were taught certain forms of athletics, including running, wrestling, and dancing. While the men were on military campaign, they were responsible for controlling the helots and overseeing agricultural production.

Marriage was considered a social obligation, and unmarried Spartan men and women were often stigmatized. Nevertheless, women in Sparta could own and inherit property. According to Aristotle, by the 4th century BC, a large portion of Spartan land was actually in the hands of women, which created a significant social imbalance.

Being asked by a woman from Attica, “Why is it that you Spartan women are the only women that lord it over your men,” a Spartan woman is said to have responded, “Because we are the only women that are mothers of men” (Plutarch, Moralia III, 457).

Growing Old in a Society Built for Wars

When you live in a social system that values physical ability, aging can be a challenge. However, the Spartans were taught to respect seniority, and government was organized in such a way that men over 60 held the greatest authority, through the Gerousia. The council comprised 30 elders (28 elected from the people and 2 kings) who had to be over 60 years old. Their membership in the council was lifelong and represented one of the greatest achievements in the life of a Spartan.

Modern historians estimate that the average life expectancy of a Spartan was around 28 years, so simply reaching the age of over 60 was an achievement in itself. The Gerousia functioned as the main legislative and judicial body of Sparta. They were the guardians of old laws and customs and the makers of new laws when necessary. They acted as judges for more serious crimes, which required the death penalty or exile.

“The law by which Lycurgus encouraged the practice of virtue up to old age is another excellent measure in my opinion. By requiring men to face the ordeal of election to the Council of Elders near the end of life, he prevented neglect of high principles even in old age” (Xenophon, Constitution of the Lacedaemonians 10.1).

The Life of Subordinate Classes of Sparta

Spartiates were not the only social group in ancient Sparta. On the contrary, they were not even the most numerous. The helots outnumbered the Spartiates 7:1, and if we include the perioikoi, that ratio increases even more. The perioikoi were also descendants of the indigenous population of Laconia and Messenia, but unlike the helots, they were not enslaved, but they were also not citizens of Sparta.

The Spartans were professional warriors and did not engage in trade or crafts, which formed the economic foundation of every polis. The perioikoi filled that gap, producing weapons and keeping the economy and trade alive. Their position was subordinate but stable, and unlike the helots, they had little motive for uprisings. The helots, on the other hand, dissatisfied with their position in society, often revolted, especially in Messenia.

There was a great helot uprising after a devastating earthquake of 464 BC. The slaves took advantage of the situation and seized Mount Ithome, located just 30 miles west of Sparta. The war against helots lasted almost ten years. It was one of several famous Messenian Wars.

When Sparta Lost Its Militarized Way of Life

The Spartan militarized way of life did not disappear overnight, but gradually faded between the 4th and 2nd centuries BC. The main turning point was the great defeat at Leuctra in 371 BC, when Sparta was defeated by Thebes, led by Epaminondas. Sparta lost thousands of its best soldiers, and it finally lost Messenia. With the loss of the helot population, the traditional Spartan way of life could no longer exist.

A few Spartan kings, such as Agis IV and Cleomenes III, tried to restore the old order through agrarian reforms and debt cancellations, but without much success. Eventually, the myth of Spartan invincibility disappeared. Greece fell under Roman control, and when Rome defeated the Greek Achaean League in 146 BC, Sparta was gradually Romanized. This fundamentally changed the daily lives of the inhabitants of Sparta.

Famously, Hadrian’s Wall was constructed by the Romans and stretched from one side of Britain to the other, marking the furthest limit of Roman territory. But it is not true that they never ventured further north, as evidenced by the remains of another great Roman wall. The Antonine Wall, mostly forgotten today, marked another attempt by the Romans to create a frontier between Roman Britain and the unconquered “barbarian” regions.

What Is the Antonine Wall?

The Antonine Wall is a defensive frontier constructed by the Romans at the northernmost part of their territory in Britain. Unlike the more famous Hadrian’s Wall, it was not maintained for long before being abandoned, nor was it a proper stone structure. It stretched some 37 miles from the Firth of Forth in the east to the Firth of Clyde in the west. Along this wall, there were at least 16 forts. Between these forts, archaeologists have found various fortlets, or smaller defensive outposts.

The Romans also constructed a road running down the length of the wall, known as the Military Way. This allowed for quick and easy transport from one part of the wall to another. In other words, this was a very well-defended frontier. We can clearly perceive the effort that the Romans went to in making sure that they were able to maintain control over the border.

What was the wall itself like? It was not a massive stone construction like Hadrian’s Wall to the south. Rather, it was primarily a turf fortification, made of heaped earth and likely with a wooden palisade on top. Furthermore, it was built on top of a stone base to provide a firm foundation for the entire fortification. Archaeologists believe that the wall may have been as much as 3 meters, or 10 feet, in height. Additionally, the Antonine Wall had a deep ditch in front of it, on the north side, to provide added defense against any potential attackers.

Background to Its Construction

What was the background to the construction of the Antonine Wall? The origins of the fortifications, which later became part of the Antonine Wall, go back further than one might expect. In the first century AD, in the 80s under Domitian, Julius Agricola engaged in military campaigns in Scotland. During these campaigns, the Romans constructed several forts in the area between the Firth of Forth and the River Clyde. Some of these forts would later go on to be incorporated into the line of forts defending the Antonine Wall. However, this would not occur until the following century. Very soon after Agricola’s conquests, the Romans mostly withdrew from Scotland, as their military resources were needed elsewhere in the Empire.

In the year AD 122, Emperor Hadrian had ordered the construction of a defensive wall to serve as the border between Roman Britain and the unconquered part of the island. This would defend the Roman territory from attacks from hostile tribes to the north. The construction of this wall took about six years, being completed in about AD 128. The Romans successfully maintained a presence right up to that newly constructed fortification, with various forts all along it to maintain control.

Hadrian died in the year AD 138. By that time, the large wall that he had constructed was still the northernmost frontier of the Empire. He was succeeded by Antoninus Pius. Shortly after becoming emperor, Antoninus decided to campaign in Scotland, though the exact reason is unknown. Unfortunately, very little contemporary information survives about this emperor, despite his relatively lengthy reign of 23 years.

It is entirely possible that Antoninus wanted to secure some glorious military victory early in his reign. Certainly, the construction of a new frontier would have been an impressive achievement to boost his reputation.

The Construction of the Antonine Wall

In the year AD 142, Antoninus began the construction of the Antonine Wall. Legionaries from three legions were involved in its construction. These were Legions II, VI, and XX. It is believed that around 7,000 men worked on the extensive project. As they worked, they created various distance slabs to record their progress. These distance slabs contain information about the length of the section that had just been constructed, as well as depictions of military campaigns against the northern tribes.

After constructing the stone base mentioned earlier, which provided the structure with stability, some twenty layers of turf were placed on top of it. One section of the wall, near the eastern end, was built somewhat differently. It was constructed out of earth and clay, the reason probably being that there was not enough good-quality turf available in the local area. Along the top of the Antonine Wall, as well as a wooden palisade, there may well have been a wooden walkway.

Historians do not know exactly how long it took to build the Antonine Wall. It is thought that it probably took approximately ten years to complete, even though the evidence suggests that it could have easily taken much less time than that.

Why Did the Romans Abandon It?

Unlike Hadrian’s Wall, the Antonine Wall was not maintained for very long. In fact, it was abandoned shortly after the death of the emperor who had ordered its construction. Antoninus Pius died in the year 161, and then just a few years later, in about 165, the Antonine Wall was abandoned. In fact, the Romans did more than just abandon it. It appears that they intentionally destroyed some or all of the forts that made up that defensive frontier. With this, they withdrew to Hadrian’s Wall further south and stayed there. Therefore, that wall returned to being the northern frontier of Roman Britain.

At first, it might seem strange that the Romans abandoned the Antonine Wall in favor of Hadrian’s Wall. After all, the Antonine Wall is considerably shorter. Thus, it seems more easily defendable, requiring less manpower to guard its length. However, when we compare the two walls themselves, it is clear that Hadrian’s Wall is the superior construction. This large and intimidating stone wall served as a much more effective protection against attacks than the turf-built Antonine Wall.

Furthermore, the tribes in this more northerly region seem to have been even more aggressive against the Romans than those further south, who were already difficult enough to keep under control. Additionally, the area between Hadrian’s Wall and the Antonine Wall was not a very productive or valuable piece of territory. Therefore, although we do not know the exact reasons why the Romans abandoned it, we can see that there are several plausible explanations.

Lasting Impact of the Antonine Wall

Although the Romans did not maintain a permanent presence at the Antonine Wall after this period, that does not necessarily mean that it was entirely forgotten. In fact, there is speculation that it may have continued to serve as the frontier of Roman Britain in some later periods. For instance, there is a late Roman document that refers to five provinces of Britain. One of them is called the province of Valentia. The reason this is so interesting is that all the other provinces mentioned in this document are already known and identified, and they seem to make up the totality of Roman Britain when we view Hadrian’s Wall as its frontier. Hence, we are left with the question of where the province of Valentia was.

There are several different ideas about this. One of them is that an existing province was renamed. However, another idea is that Valentia was the name given to the region between Hadrian’s Wall and the Antonine Wall. If the Romans gave this region a name, viewing it as a province, then they evidently considered it to be part of their territory. In other words, this would mean that they still held the Antonine Wall to be the frontier of Roman Britain.

Of course, this is just one possible explanation of the evidence. Not all scholars believe that the province of Valentia refers to this region between Hadrian’s Wall and the Antonine Wall. Nevertheless, it is a distinct possibility. However, even if this were the case, there is no evidence that the Romans actually held power as far north as the Antonine Wall. Their control over it would likely have been far weaker than it was over the more southerly territories.

What We Know About the Antonine Wall

In conclusion, what do we really know about the Antonine Wall? We know much less about it than we do about Hadrian’s Wall. The latter is mentioned in several ancient texts and has several centuries of artefacts and inscriptions revealing its history. The Antonine Wall, in contrast, appears in just a single ancient document and was only maintained for some twenty years. It is also much less obvious on the landscape, given its construction primarily of dirt rather than stone.

Yet, despite the general obscurity with which the Antonine Wall is shrouded, we do know a fair bit about it. It was constructed under the orders of Emperor Antoninus Pius in about AD 142, after a successful campaign into Scotland. The Romans built it to establish a more northerly frontier to their Empire. The wall was constructed by legionaries from three legions over the course of about ten years. They laid down a stone base at first, and then covered it with about twenty layers of turf. They also built forts and a road along the length of the fortification, as well as a ditch in front of it.

Despite not being maintained for long, the presence of this northerly frontier may well have had a lasting impact. Although not all scholars agree, the province of Valentia could very well have been the territory between Hadrian’s Wall and the Antonine Wall.