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Marcellinus mentions a third of the army making an escape in darkness after hours of fighting. Personally, I think the estimate of 650,00 is a little large. Bear in mind legions of the day were considerably smaller than in the classic era, were very likely under strength in any case, and would have been subject to desertion en route. I do note that Valens had to make more than one rousing speech whilst parked up at Melanthia just to get his unwilling army to go with him. If that number fought at Adrianople, then clearly this underlines the lack of ability of Roman command of the day to successfully handle such large set piece battles, which is incidentially a major contributor to their defeat. The commanders had little or no experience of running such a large army. Of course Sebiastianus was chosen to lead the campaign because he'd demonstraed ability in the first place, and Marcellinus tells us how he stressed small scale actions instead of a massive strike deep into unsecured countryside. Zosimus does actually mention that 'heads were sent to Constantinople every day', which although a very defined point in his otherwise skimpy account, does illustrate the success Sebastianus had with newly raised and motivated troops. Both Zosimus and Marcellinus point at the 'effeminacy' and lack of will in the troops as a whole. Of course it doesn't take a genius to see that Sebastianus was employing a cadre of forces he considered up to the job of whittling down the Goths. His policy clearly worked. Four days before the battle an advance party led ahead of the column at the instigation and personal command of sebastianus slaughtered a group of gothic foragers at the River Maritza, the Goths by that stage being forced to forage in large numbers for fear of ambush. However, I must emphasise that this accounts for a capable minority of Roman troops used in a manner for which they were trained and best suited for. The rest of Valens army had nothing like the same willingness - at least one unit vanished into thin air once the fighting started. But the initial question was whether the losses were minimal. A third of 650,000 surviving? Four hundred thousand casualties or deserters isn't exactly a minor problem. Neither was the loss of credibility of Roman leadership. They never fought another battle on that scale that I'm aware of. Such was the difficulty of raising more troops to protect Roman terrritory that Theodosius later hired Goths on wholesale. Partly that gave them a reason to remain loyal, despite the rambuctuous nature of the Goths, but also it demonstrated an expedience forced upon Theodosius in dealing with threatened borders and manpower problems. The Goths had arrived in Roman territory both as a migration southeastward from their homelands, but also as an escape against the Huns. The walls built by Trajan (not the emperor, but a 4th century general) to protect against the ravages of those horsemen illustrating the preparedness the Romans sought in their defence against them.. With an enemy arriving on the borders capable of mounting fast attacks at long ranges, the matter of having enough troops to defend the borders was not inconsiderable, and a policy that failed, requiring the campaigns of Aetius to deal with the problem.

With my experience in filling in job applications you would expect a certain level of competence. Funny thing is, the encroachment of modern technology such as personal computers has meant that these days I fill in two or three a year (Please don't tell the government - they won't understand what I mean). This last Sunday night however I was forced by a private education college to fill in one of their application forms manually. Okay, let's see if I can remember how to do this. Oh hang on, I need something to write with... Have I got any pens left? Do they still make those? Ahh... Here we go... Filling these things in silence is dull. No, really, it's excessively dull. It's no good, I'm going to have to put the radio on. As chance would have it the radio station was having problems finding hit singles and instead played a load of classic rock. My chance discovery is that filling in application forms while listening to Led Zeppelin not only enables you survive the experience, but also complete the multitude of boxes without making a complete doctors signature of it. My conclusion then is thinking about filling in forms is definitely not recommended. I think that made sense. Filling in Forms Now that I'm ready to go I discover just how anal application forms can be. First question is... Surname. Oh that's an easy one. Rail. The second box asks me if I know my... Forenames. Actually, it so happens I do. Cal D. Next question is... Name I would like to be called by. The temptation is enormous. Sir? Boss? Duke? Emperor of the Known Universe? Sigh. Oh all right I'll be sensible. Why is it employers have no sense of humour? Now we come to the crunch. There's a big page of boxes demanding to know what my previous employment was and explain any gaps in it. Ah. Now there it's a problem because my unemployment doesn't look very good. Salary and Benefits? Yes, several times now. Wow... That's going to impress them... Sliding Doors During the last week I was sat in my favourite seat in the second floor lounge in our local library. It overlooks a major road junction and all the drama and passion of everyday life is played out below me whenever I discover the book I'm reading is even more boring than that. The irony is that the book was interesting. Not only is the book a very well considered analysis of King Arthur and his historical credibility, it also manages to list his family. Cousins, uncles, aunts, they're all in there. At this rate I'll find his phone number in chapter seventeen. I wonder if King Arthur has any vacancies? Most of the Round Table should died of old age by now surely? Just when I got to the really really interesting bits there was a clatter outside, I dropped the book in suprise, and completely lost my place. The side door of a van passing the library opened by accident. Trays of fresh tomato's fell onto the road. The driver knew it had happened. He pulled over, shut the door securely, as he should have in the first place (important safety notice) and drove off, leaving two tons of red groceries lying in the road. Luckily some members of the public were public spirited enough to help council workmen clear up the mess, and if I were honest, one or two simply helped themselves. Now I know what happens to roadkill. The thing is though that side doors on vans are ludicrously dodgy. I know this from personal experience. I used to do a van driving job, delivering and collecting from customers in Maidenhead area. In Windsor there used to be a clothes shop run by the most ferocious French woman alive. She had obviously come to the conclusion that van drivers were a lower form of life and treated them as such, which, if I'm honest, I had something to do with, because I once delivered her parcels (Must deliver before 8:30am or die horribly) at 16:30 that afternoon. I may have got that one wrong. Anyway, the point was that on another occaision when I succeeded in getting there on time and still got mauled within an inch of my life (good grief does this woman have any friends?), I collected some boxes of hers for delivery to some customer who clearly hadn't the guts to enter her shop. On the motorway I overtook a car and it beeped its horn insistently at me. At the time I couldn't see anything wrong and just assumed the other driver was related to a woman in Windsor. No. It turns out my side door was opening, and with only two miles to go before I reached the depot, her parcels fell out of the van and into the ditch. That did not go well. But that isn't the only example m'lud. I now produce exhibit C, the Red Jasper Tour Van. The old Iveco van was our faithful transport between gigs in my glory years as the drummer for Red Jasper. We had a compartment put in next to the side door for the lads and any roadies who fancied helping us tote that box and lift that speaker cab. On one such trip with a willing volunteer, he made the observation that there was a draft coming through the door. I told him not to touch the door or the draught might get worse. The door sometimes fell off entirely. The effect was like telling someone on the verge of a parachute jump that we forgot to pack it. So you see. Sliding side doors on vans are dangerous and must not be used without a government warning, lots of glossy advertisements, several bright yellow warning signs, and a man with a red flag walking sixty yards ahead of the vehicle. Trust me, they know how to make rules like that. Invitation to the Royal Navy Time again to wander down the hill and sample the delights of Turkish cuisine, which if you're into English culture, has nothing to do with confectionary. It's more to do with spicy ammunition for people who like throwing up in the small hours. Thing is, the cheery bloke who cooks those kebabs for me has received a printed card inviting him to a presentation by the Royal Navy. Questions to be asked have been thoughtfully printed on the back of the invite, so if anyone forgot to think of a question, the Navy has thought of it for you. Okay, we had a bit of a laugh over it, but then I noticed the small print at the bottom said photo ID required. It just proves how sophisticated and civilised we've become over the last four centuries. Now you get politely invited by a press gang. RSVP Copenhagen Global Warming Oh no. They're at it again. Demanding money to save the worlds climate. And true to form, Giveaway Gordon has led the field with a whopping

There's nothing absurd at all. You're too rigid in comparison when all I intended was something generic, which is intentional on your part because it it allows you an excuse to criticise. Of course there are differences. What I mean is that the zealots were a pressure group with their own agenda and a hatred of a powerful occupying force whose religious beliefs differ. The parallels on that superficial level are obvious. To take the comparison further is simply a blind alley which I notice you entered with your usual enthusiasm. In any case, the modern world has global issues and infrastructure that didn't exist in Roman times, but whilst we're on the subject, there was plenty of jewish anger in the Mediterranean world of the time and it has been noted that that the Book of Revelation (yes, our very own apocalyptic vision from the bible) was likely no more than a disguised call for violence against Rome, much the same as modern terrorist propaganda. The case for jewish involvement in the Fire of Rome of ad64 is still under consideration. It would be worth realising that since the jews were largely restricted to one part of the empire and that their religious teachings hadn't spread far at that time, there was little reason for the jews to attack beyond their own borders, seeing as the zealots (besides knifing their own politicians and so forth) had domestic issues with occupation and were attempting rebellion to oust the Romans. As for analyzing Josephus, I find that an odd attitude. So what if he was a turncoat? We aren't here to castigate him for his actions, just to reflect on his writings and their historical significance and content, which is something we could apply to any classical source, even the ones you prefer - and the ones you claim to be supremacists. The only reason you're puzzled is that you're finding people don't necessarily share your views. The values you place on classical sources seem very partisan. As far as I'm concerned, they're all of value in determining the course of events. Certainly some are better than others - I wouldn't claim the Historia Augustae to be anything other than the romanticised and entertaining history that it was. That doesn't detract from its value as a source. Lets face it. Human beings have a very nasty psyche. Period.

The mass-suicide of the defenders is usually portrayed as something heroic (it is, understandably, a national icon for Israel), and the Roman legionaries who made that breakthrough into the almost tomb-like fortress were recorded as stunned by what they saw. It's difficult to understand the mindset of those people. They certainly had no wish to surrender to the tender mercies of Roman retribution thuis the act of mass suicide in this case carries with connotations of an honourable end, despite the fact that suicide rendered them ineligible for heaven, a point that doesn't get mentioned. Also, it must be stressed these defenders were zealots. They were, at least in Roman eyes, an ancient equivalent of Al-Queda. Their decision making processes were guided by a self-justification that ordinary people might well struggle to understand. One woman and her children survived the slaughter, hiding in a drain, and she was the one who told the Romans what had transpired. I haven't seen this program - I suspect I'll hate every moment of it - but from what you say it revolves very much on stereotypical characters that have more to do with modern christian interpretation than the ancient 'terrorist' organisation seeking refuge in Herods old fort. Romanocentricity is to be expected. Okay, the author who wrote the original account, Josephus, was a jew. But he had changed sides, gone over to the winning Roman team, and had every reason to please his peers with tales of Romanocentric victory in the Jewish War. That he retains a semblance of objectivity is commendable, but as with any account of the period, you need to realise that it remains a personal account. Then again, the Roman viewpoint will always be paramount. History is written by the victors and in most cases their opponents were illerate and left no lasting record. The Goths are unusual in this regard in that Jordanes wrote their history - even if a little idealised - and thus we have an alternative. It hasn't escaped my attention that the zealots story has not been preserved, other than through Roman writers and thus potentially sanitised, and it might be worth considering how the jews as a whole felt toward those defenders of Masada at the time. I've no doubt they had sympathisers, but Masada was among the last actions of the war. Two legions had already gone home. It was a mopping-up operation, albeit on a larger scale, dealing with the last resistance from the rebels. Heroes or deluded extremists? When you consider the relevant facts it does have some extraordinary parallels to modern politics, and as always, perspective is the key. Since the whole point of making the program was to dramatise the situation, it's hardly suprising that it's portrayed with modern sentiment and a somewhat less than insightful script. Perhaps I might change my mind if I see it for myself one day. Somehow I doubt it.

In my case it wasn't simply that I lost a familiar tool, it was the loss of files that I was relying on which is far more insidious. Computers can be replaced at the end of the day, it's only hardware. The data on them is a fragile collection of thoughts, memories, information, projects, and so forth, and losing that is far more heartbreaking. As it happens I've had a lot of help restoring data I thought was lost for good. I have lost some stuff which is causing me some real headaches, but via an old hard disk I had in the cupboard gathering dust I've replaced some of the older stuff. Never throw away a data store. Ever. You just never know...

What can I say that adequately describes the events since my last entry? Let's see.... This is a tough one... Well, I got chatted up by a tall leggy blonde. No, really I did. She was standing outside a bakery tempting customers to consider her wares. Does this sound a tad obvious? Just another sales pitch in the great market place of life I guess. But we had a nice chat all the same. Lovely Weather We've Been Having What can anyone say about two months of sunshine and showers that resulted in a complete and utter victory for dampness? Firstly we haven't had it as bad as Cumbria. As far as I'm aware, there's been no collapsing bridges in Swindon, and thus we were spared the tragic deaths that resulted from human futility in the face of natural forces. Secondly, I 've gotten very adept at avoiding downpours, but I suspect I've gotten so used to it I'm not as fussy about damp weather as I was. Then again, as depressing as it is, Rainy Old Swindon doesn't get the floods that render thousands homeless and bereft of family and friends. I should apologise to the chap from the British Red Cross who stood in my way as I strode through town and attempted to make me understand what it was they actually do. Of course I drew the conclusion they collect charitable donations, and yes, that was the point of his lesson, so I wasn't wrong. I just hadn't thought any further than that. I do get stopped a lot, especially by those two clowns selling Jesus. If that young man was truthful and those charitable contributions are indeed used to help those people flooded out or whatever disaster that qualifies them for aid, then I can only say I'm sorry for not adding my name to your mailing list. But, as I explained to the young man, it so happens I'm on charitable aid for being unemployed. I don't usually stress that condition, though I did to one sanctimonious young lady from a job agency the other day who considered that the need to earn a living was not a sufficient reason to be offered a job interview. What did she want? Perfect teeth? A halo? Or do I drive the wrong make of car? A part of me wonders whether employers are overly worried about silly details of appearances in the quest to achieve the perfect workforce. They seem to have this idea that talent and ability are highlighted by haircuts and brown tongues. I suspect to a greater or lesser degree that was always true, it's just that getting a job now has less probability than winning the National Lottery, and played out pretty much the same way. The difference between me and a homeless person in floodland is that I have to ask for the assistance the government offer to unemployed people and regularly prove that I deserve it. i doubt the British Red Cross would regard me as a worthy recipient! Whilst the point is to save government spending and rout out those who claim illegally, the constant ennui, failure, and virtual begging do nothing for the self esteem. A part of me wonders if that isn't all a little counter productive if I have to impress an employer to get off the dole queue. Neither does turning up for an interview soaking wet. Mexican Takeaway For weeks we'd had nothing but windy and wet weather. Funny thing was that it meant the average temperature was well above normal for October/November. Then there was a break in the endless assault of rainy days and the temperature plunged. It was that evening I found myself with a few quid in my pocket. What shall I do? Get drunk? No, that's too unemployed wino... Definitely don't want to go down that road. I know, I'll invest in a mexican takeaway. There's a shop that does that stuff down at the Brunel Centre, only a five minute stroll from where I live. In the course of ordering and paying for my meal I met a young woman, a dark haired girl of affable nature, sat on a bench wrapped up in winter clothing in the square outside. A bit odd. Girls of her age are normally very sociable and found giggling in packs of several. I made a joke about it being too cold to sit there phoning her friends. Usually that sort of gag receives a polite chuckle and a look of horror that this old geezer is trying to chat her up. On that particular night though this particular girl was more open to my obtuse humour. So we got chatting. Turns out she was wrapped up warm because she expected to wait all night if necessary to earn her pay. Eileen, please, you're a lovely intelligent girl. Get a proper job before it all goes sour. Clowns And Perfect Lives Just lately we've had a number of clowns in the town centre. One bunch stood on stilts in victorianesque costumes and played as a band. Truly bizarre, but still entertaining despite the surreal 'Blue Meanie' moment. As for the two clowns handing out printed cards to passers by, I take issue with the comment one made when I told him to go away and stop bothering me, as they have regularly. As I stomped off feeling very unimpressed with Jesus's sales department, he called at my back, holding a card in the air, telling me I will need that phone number one day. Maybe it's just me, but I really do suspect the phone number won't matter one jot. Sympathy For The Fallen A few years ago I was driving baclk from the countryside and I chose a back road down the valley from Chiseldon. It's a quiet road through a private wooded estate that has a wonderfully unspoilt feel. Perhaps, ironically, that's more to do with careful stewardship and watchful gamekeepers. As I approached the single lane bridge over the motorway, an intrusion of the modern world that's hidden from view below the line of foliage, a rabbit decided to cross the road right there in front of me. Animals do this occaisionally. They choose the worst moment all too often, and indeed, this daring bunny ran for all it was worth in the face of my oncoming vehicle. I'm not heartless. I tried to avoid the rabbit. It made no difference. The unlucky mammal went under a front wheel and whether it was crushed or not, I heard it banging around in the wheel well. You can say what you like about sympathy for the soft and cuddly, but I could hear what that animal suffered. I wasn't proud of it. A couple of weeks ago I saw a news item on the net. A sixteen year old girl was waving goodbye to her friends at a railway station. As the train pulled away she ran alongside, tapping on the window for a final acknowledgement, and in attempting to run in high heels, fell over. She slipped between the platform and the moving train. I could hear that rabbit in my head all over again. Sympathy For The Falling This year I found Remembrance Sunday a somewhat less than humbling experience. There's been a change in the way we regard our military in the last few years, with sympathetic documentaries, political speeches, pop albums, brass bands, and indeed, an attitude impressed upon us that our servicemen should be regarded in a certain light, a somewhat idealised and gentlemanly heroism. Foreign wars have been very much in the news for some time. The reports of men shot or blown apart in a dusty region of Somewhere Else have regularly scrolled across the bottom of the tv news. I'm not blind to the grim finality that warfare entails or the political reality that sometimes requires it. But the stories of equipment shortages and shortcomings have always been a part of warfare and whatever the politicians tell us, always will. These obstacles will be overcome, as they must always be to secure victory. Neither is it the politics of our foreign wars that bothers me especially. Perhaps in the various decisions made to send the lads there is something worthwhile, a point to it all, something more relevant than political slogans and careers that stand to ain from success in the field. Certainly without the moral purpose we would have a morale problem. People do squabble occaisionally. Given human nature it's impossible to do otherwise. I can't help thinking that it might be worth fighting over something better than thousands of square miles of mud brick walls and dry ditches, but then perhaps the democratic solution we seek at the barrel of a gun is more important than the venue for its birth. What I find most intrusive about it all though isn't the affiliation with martial virtue or the patriotic sentiment that underpins it. It's the sale of an attitude for which I will be castigated if I decide not to buy it. I have every respect for our armed services and always had done. That I was turned down for service twice doesn't affect those sentiments. Not everyone is born to be a soldier however much our society values such endeavour. Perhaps our willingness to devalue less aggressive paths is formed by the ability of some to profit from selfishness? The label of 'hero' is very quickly used these days, especially for politicans seeking to gain votes in television interviews. The constant pressure by the media to regard all servicemen as heroes for no more than signing up for a few years is starting to bother me. As risky as it is, the armed services don't actually have a monopoly on heroism. I was always taught that a 'hero' is someone who risks their life for someone elses. As it happens I know one or two people who risked their own life, health, or safety in emergency situations. They've never sought medals, television interviews, or praise from politicians for what they did, and I find that most of the people who act selflessly on another persons behalf remain selfless about their achievement afterward. Society though needs its heroes. We need examples of those we consider courageous. I'm sure there are plenty of servicemen in the field who fall into that category and I recall mentions of personal bravery that reached the autocues out of the many unsung stories that deserved that attention. On the other hand, I'm also aware that not all servicemen are quite as angelic as some would have us believe. Hopefully, disgraces to the uniform are a rareity though I confess I have bumped into one or two in my time. Those who have acted beyond the demands of their calling at risk of their lives may certainly receive the title of 'Hero' from me. Those who suffer for that service may certainly receive my sympathy and good will. Those who speak for them without personal profit or reward may receive my attention. The rest of you, as you were. Now You See It... When our main library was back at the temporary site under that new apartment block they built in the town centre, I wandered along the racks of the reference sections and found a wonderful title written before the second world war that described Saxon settlement in Wessex in loving detail. Some of those old books are incredible. They really are. A couple of weeks ago I was reading an article about stone age culture written in 1869. You might think it would lack a certain insight, given the typical learned academic of the time, but I was suprised by the parallels the man drew with cultures of his time, and in particular, he emphasised the influence of enviroment and demographics in surviving a wilderness by the simple expedient of describing the Shoshonee Indians of North America, forced out of their bountiful happy hunting grounds and reduced to a wretched condition subsisting on whatever they could dig out of the ground. The villains were of course their enemies the Blackfoot tribe, who had a slight advantage by virtue of buying guns from the Hudson Bay Company. Contemporary regard in a land thousands of miles away for a disappearing world, one hundred and forty years ago. Now of course I want to find that volume on Saxons again, and despite the patient searches by librarians whose sense of duty (dare I say it) borders on the heroic, the desired book seems to have vanished off the face of the planet. So here's some contemporary concern for a disappearing book, three weeks ago. On The Bright Side I do feel I have to reward anyone who's read this blog entry right to the end. It seems a sad reflection on things that most of the content was a little depressing. So, on the bright side, I've finished with the frustrating phone calls, expensive solcitors, avaricious vendors, and fussy consumer protection groups. I have a working computer again. Ain't life wonderful? I knew you'd be pleased. Especially since the police gave the guy who had sold me the computer originally a right ticking off for parking offences outside my home. Just when you thought there wasn't any justice.

Plato's inspiration was the stories told to him by Solon, who in turn had learned the tale from Egyptian priests, suggesting a very old tradition but no precise origin. The Mediterranean is in any case prone to disasters. The northward movement of the African plate has resulted in the Straits of Gibraltar (Pillars of Hercules, sorry...) closing at least once and as many as ten times, which would have caused the sea to evaporate (it really does - only the connection with the Atlantic keeps the basin flooded) and flood again when the dam was breached. The coastline is flexing under pressure thus archaeological remains show sign of inundation at high levels and some areas are still 'pushed down', like Alexandria. Of course, all this friction causes volcano's and we all know about those

Scientific by any measure? Not really. Some were good observers, others good commentators, but hardly scientific. Tell you what... I'll be generous. Let's include Galen as a 'scientific' person. Okay, that's one individual, out of how many Roman citizens over the generations? Practical issues are by their nature unscientific. The various trades you listed were more concerned with application of experience and observation than logic, theory, and reasoning. Military matters for instance were very much part of Roman culture but even then it was long experience swayed by fashion and barbarian influence, not some carefully thought out equipment schedule. The 'advances' made in military methodology reflected the adoption of trends observed by individuals with an intelligent but empirical grasp of what they believed would benefit Roman victory on the battlefield. I seriously doubt they pored over sheets of parchment over a hot quill trying to figure out what increment of technology would win victory over savages. They were of course more likely to believe, with some justification, that war was won by valour and the strength of a sword arm. Engineering mastery that was employed in civil engineering wasn't theoretical either. It was no more than extrapolation of existing expertise held by those who had the benefit of learning much of it from someone else. I've done the same thing. I designed a bridge in my college days. I came second in the weight trials. No-one taught me about the 'science' of bridge building, I'd simply used what I'd seen in other real world efforts and made an empirical stab at it. I strongly suspect much the same was happening in Roman times.

Some Romans were refined and civilised, at least in some respects, but they were a pretty hard nosed and avaricious lot who came to believe they had a predestined right to dominate. I think the cultural achievements of the Romans blind us to the conquest state that they became. It's also worth pointing out that those cultural achievements, roads, acqueducts, all the usual benefits of Roman society, were primarily intended for the adminstration and policing of the state, the development of wealth for the few, and it had little dto do with the comman man who was bought off with circuses et panem. The level of snobbery in Roman society (and Tacitus gives away some pretty clear examples of it) mitigates against refinement. What we have in other words is a pecking order in which status is defined not just wealth and influence, but by fine details of behaviour. Does that make refinement a good thing? Not in my book if it's used to judge a man less than his peers. We also need to see the Romans as a competitive society, one in which failure is regarded poorly, and a society that has little time for those who fall by the wayside. Hardly a progressive culture then. They of course thought it perfectly natural that the strongest dominate and profit. As regards 'scientific', I can't really see much evidence for that at all. The Romans did not, as a rule, sponsor science despite the civil engineering marvels we associate with them (which incidentially were built according to the need for aggrandisement as much as utility). They were a very superstitious people. For them, science was something that emulated the works of the gods and was perhaps tempting fate.... Unless it made them wealthy in which case avarice overcame their religious biundaries more often than not. Pure science, the expansion of knlowledge for its own sake, didn't really occur to them. The outside world was a curiosity and a potential possession, not a place to be understood and studied. In any case, science was essentially 'greek' in character and whilst very amusing and clever, remained something a typical sponsor wasn't likely to invest in, given the risk of embarrasement compared to the political reward of civil benificence. The whole point about civilisation is one I seee regularly regarding Romans. It's largely image. They were of course a very organised state and one that had developed a huge capacity for control over its neighbours by the application of guile and threat of brute force, but as to whether we consider the Romans 'civilised' is largely a matter of opinion since elements of their society were hardly civilised at all. This also brings up the point of imperial culture. The image of Roman society is one of 'romanisation', a phrase I've come to dislike intensely. It never really happened. Rome was a conqueror, an occupier, and the various peoples they annexed and defeated carried on life in their midst as they always had done. Certainly some people in the provinces adopted Roman ways (Tacitus again reveals what 'refined' Romans thought of that!) in order to improve their circumstances, and yes, the Romans were keen to encourage that, but the idea was not beneificence or some enlightened attitude toward the civilisation. They saw it as a means of control, of tempting the natives with luxuries and decadence and bringing them into a sphere of local government by means of bribery and political subterfuge. It worked. It was the basis of provincial government that went on all over the empire, and in the case of Dark Age Britain, even survived them. Ultimately I have to leave the question of whether the Romans were civilised to each of you to decide for yourselves. If you point at literature, art, civil engineering, organisation, then perhaps you're right. If on the other hand you see the arrogance, brutishness, greed, and downright callousness that existed as what they regarded as positive sides to their culture, then perhaps you'll think differently. What is certain is that we cannot in any degree regard the Romans as 'scientific'. Why would they need to be? They had plenty of conquered experts to do all the clever stuff for them.

I wouldn't dismiss the endurance of folklore entirely. For example, our Good King Arthur. Modern versions of the story might be hopelessly wide of the dark age reality, but even in our own contemporary medievalised fantasies there are still elements of Iron Age mythos and heroic fiction enshrined within it.

He has my complete permission to do so.

There are times, Scylla, when I struggle to decide whether you're pulling my leg. All you ever see are events. You list them, avidly, any chance you get, because your basis of self-worth is all those minute facts you've memorised. Do you ever try to understand underlying cause? Motivations? No, of course not. That requires imagination as much as the printed word. I'm sorry, but I see no anachronism in human nature, something we share with every culture that has ever existed and ever will, whatever social rules and mindset exists. But it's pointless discussing it. You don't want a discussion. You want to tell everyone what you know. I think you've done that already.

That's it. Game over. I've lost all my data. Everything. Eight years work, lost in a moment of electrical fireworks. It's official too. The data recovery people left me with backups of broken fragments and random folders full of files I've never seen before. If this was merely an accident, a chance occurence, fate, or simply bad luck, well, what can one do? If this was a deliberate act by someone somehow, then what was it for? What did they achieve? You can't create something positive by destruction. And I 'd have to say you've broken a number of laws along the way, so I hope you get caught one day. There'll be no mercy from me. If this was an act of God, then all I can say is that he has a sick sense of humour and I'm better off without him. He also might like to help any Jesus Creeps that call at my door after this. They'll need it. Right now I'm no mood to talk to anyone. The prospect of this happening was very much in mind for some time, but the death of hope changes everything. In a sense I've been made a prisoner of circumstance. A certain Rudyard Kipling poem is on my mind at the moment - I would be a hypocrite if I dismissed that - but now I face the prospect of rebuilding nearly a lost decade. Time for me to walk into the wilderness, to spiritually knock on the door of a fort in Siddi-Bel-Abbes. Truth is, I'm not going to be left any choice.

I don't think we should be suprised that some individuals have leanings toward humanitarian sympathies. Human beings haven't changed much since we discovered Europe for ourselves and on average, a certain number will always identify with those people (or animals) that they see suffering. What we find in primitive peoples is that they learn to fit in with their enviroment. Early exploration peoples can be very wasteful in their new territory. It's new, fresh, and game is bountiful. Once the creatures become harder to find, so the need to be more thoughtful toward their enviroment evolves and spiritual practises along with them. The native Americans are very much a case in point. Whilst we admire their ability to utilise their enviroment and waste very little of the animals they hunted, we also know they severely inhibited post-ice-age herds (if not responsible for their demise) and that herds were sometimes stampeded over cliffs for easy kills, a method hunting that was extremely wasteful and one that would inevitably be replaced with more careful exploitation. The Romans never reached that stage. They had little cultural reason to. With their somewhat arrogant self-belief and greed the world around them was there to be exploited. There is of course the increasing cost of importing animals from abroad that finally made the large scale slaughter of animals in the wild less desirable, but this was an economic factor entirely and one that hadn't, even by the end of the empire, introduced any conservational sentiment in the Roman mindset, which itself was increasingly concerned with external pressure and internal politics as Rome developed toward the monarchy of the later era. The laws on slaves over the years underline those trends. As the numbers brought in from warfare lessened and the individual slave became more valuable, so the owners often found themselves with a less overbearing relationship with them. Of course you could argue the Romans had other reasons to pursue slave rights. These were effectively disenfranchised labourers living amongst them and at least once a Roman writer observed the delicate balance between obedience and rebellion in their midst. I'm not sure that simply putting Themistius into a category of philosophical ideology is entirely relevant. Whilst he may have had similar leanings to others who included themselves in such a cultural grouping (if indeed they thought themselves a seperate social order at all in those days) we don't see Themistius connecting his views in the quote given above with Presocratics or Aristotleans. When he mentions "We worry" it's far more likely he includes his associates which aren't necessarily to be exclusively of a certain philosophical bent. Having said that, it's also clear that the issue was at least discussed amongst his peers at least once, probably more. Had there been new lands, more territory to conquer and exploit, I suspect the conversations would have amounted to a few shrugs and comments on what new resources could be brought into the Roman fold. With the inwardly looking perspective of the late empire, Rome was effectively held back from it's former stance on reaching out for more. There's little time for enviromental concerns if the enemy is threatening to trample all over it. Incidentially, this raises another issue. The over-hunting by barbarians in surrounding lands, not just to obtain trade with the Romans, but also to ensure safe agricultural land for themselves. It seems then whatever we humans consider about our duty toward the enviroment, it will always be offset by the short term for wealth and security.

A recent news item was typical of the changing times and regrettable hardships of the current economical situation. The last traditional piano manufacturer has closed it's doors and will now have all it's instruments built in south east Asia. Saddening news. In a television interview a staff member lamented the passing of this era, and pointed out that in his fathers day, there were maybe two to three hundred manufacturers of fine wooden pianos in Britain. That's an astonishing number. When you consider this last firm has produced something like three hundred and fifty thousand pianos since the workshop opened its doors in 1911, it makes you wonder how many pianos have been made in Britain over the years. Well I can't be exact, but if we assume some averages, bring up Windows Calculator, feed in the figures... Et voila! Sixty seven million. No really, it might be a quick and dirty estimate, but it looks as if Britain has built one piano for every modern day citizen since 1900. So where's mine? Come to think of it, what happened to the rest of them? Are they being smashed to bits by frustrated music students? Or have they all gone to piano heaven? Or, perhaps more frighteningly, is this the work of evil piano rustlers, herding all free-born pianos into harsh confinement within recording studios and forced to create evil commercialised hit tunes? Birdwatcher On The Prowl A few days ago I was running out into the countryside along an old farm track I sometimes use to cross the M4 motorway. Ahead of me was a guy carrying what looked like a video camera on a tripod. Out of curiosity, I asked him what he was up to out here. He told me it was a telescope, which allows him to take close up shots of birds (the feathered variety). Quite a knowledgeable chap too. having retired from long service in the RAF, he now takes photographs and educates complete ignoramuses like. I learned more about birds from that bloke in a ten minute chat that I'd learned in ten years. Now what was it he said?... Ahhh... Crows have long beaks?... Or was it Rooks?.... Suspicious Person of the Week The rain was pouring down like nothing else. I'd opened the back window and looked out at the shallow waves of water running across the yard and forming a new stream bed on the gravel alleyway. That's the only way to enjoy a rainy day. Watch it from the shelter of a warm, dry home. Further away, in the more overgrown section of alleyway next to the old college site, a young man trod along the gravel looking absolutely drenched. Ordinarily I wouldn't have thought too much about that but I noticed him linger beside the wooden fence. What's he up to? You do get strange goings on in that alleyway. The lad looked around to see if anyone was looking, and not noticing me observing his actions, he scaled the wooden fence and slipped into the abandoned college grounds. Call me suspicious, but I doubt he's a student there.

According to Jeremy Clarkson, the demise of the supercar is nigh. His romantic goodbye to petrol-guzzlers on Top Gear nearly had me bursting into tears. What is life, without passion? Let's face it, those ultra-eco-safe hybrid cars are about as passionate as yesterdays warmed up breakfast. There's something horribly socialist about the modern world. It's even showing signs of communist mediocrity and conformance. The world want drivers to be slow, safe, and silent. On the one hand, I have to agree. The law says we must obey speed limits. Of course there will always be those who believe they can drive better than everybody else and that laws don't apply to them, but sometimes you have to wonder if speed limits are designed to make hybrid cars seem like a good idea after all. If all that wasn't bad enough, now the banks have made a complete mess of the worlds economies, along with a daft politician or two, and it seems fewer of us will able to sample the delights (and frustrations) of cars designed to thrill. Yet despite this, manufacturers are turning out more and more supercars. There are new models appearing every week. Most of them are the wild excesses of their designers imaginations and you'd have to be fairly imaginative to figure how to use them on an everyday basis. The more extreme are really just playthings, toys, fun little cars for the race track and the wealthy enthusiast who doesn't know enough about cars to buy something better. Deep down, I want a supercar. Not those silly track day monsters, but real genuine sports cars. I just love the drama these vehicles generate simply by burbling past. As for the bad tempered scorn of the poverty stricken public driven to rage by such displays of extravagance, that unfortunately goes with it. But then, my cheap and nasty bad boy Eunos Cabriolet isn't exactly supercar stuff, but that got vandalised after two months of happy exuberance. It's a rusting wreck at the back of my home. And still, I sometimes get woken by irate kids planning to drive it after the night clubs close. One shouted in the early hours to tell me exactly what he thought of me for preventing his enjoyment of my purchase. Sorry, but it isn't yours and you shouldn't have vandalised it in the first place. Now Lexus has joined the ranks of supercar makers. Surely they aren't serious? It seems they are. For a cool

He does imply that isn't the case.. "We worry about..." Who exactly 'we' are is another matter. Given he was an educated man and someone who gave it some thought, it wouldn't be stretching the imagination to think of him as one of the less avaricious members of Roman society. What skews this is he writes during a later period of Roman history, where the humanitarian sympathies of the ruling classes are increasing (underlined by the improving situation of slaves, possibly also by the adoption of christian beliefs, but in the latter case I don't know enough about how early christians viewed animals, and this was Rome after all). To offset that, he makes thos quote whilst comparing barbarians with animals, remarking it was good that a barbarian tribe wasn't exterminated forever. It reveals less of an enviromentalist (as we more or less agree) and rather more of a typical patronial air of superiority. The fundamental ideology of the Romans from their early days was that the gods had given them a divine purpose to rise and dominate - An empire without end - and it seems this mindset was prevalent even in the late empire, which itself raises an interesting point about christianity - that it must have been coloured by Roman thinking. Okay, I have no idea what religion Themistius worshipped (does anyone else have that info?) but actually I think that question is largely irrelevant, because ultimately Themistius, for all his apparent concern, only frets about the diminishing numbers of animals in the wild. Notice that he does not curse his forefathers for their wanton slaughter. Neither does he suggest that steps must be taken to preserve wildlife, nor praise anyone else for doing so. The whole quote comments merely that a barbarian tribe is spared slaughter, almost if they were a curiosity, a colourful accessory in the world around them. It raises the question then of how the Romans saw the natural world. To some extent, it was a strange and frightening place. Rivers weren't just watercourses. They were places that were either the bounty of a gods benificence, or worse, a place forbidden by the gods unless correct observances were met. The legions that Claudius roused to invade Britain in 43 weren't keen to board the ships at all. The Channel was viewed as a stormy, dangerous barrier, a place the gods would placating over if they were to reach the shores of the mysterious island, and that was even after Julius Caesar had visited the place twice a century before, and despite the regular mercantile and political contact between Britain and the continent that had been going on even before that. Animals were of course simply beasts. Manifestations of of the natural world. If nothing else, the Romans were consumers and the exploitation of a world the gods had given them a right to dominate would seem perfectly in order to them. Beasts were therefore a resource no different to valuable minerals, as both could be sold at a profit. This does seperate the natural world from agriculture. In farming, there is a desire to conserve and ensure the farm animals flourish, but that in itself is only to serve human needs. On the face of it then, Themistius is indeed something of a rarity in Roman circles, a man who voices concern about animals, however lacking in real sympathy it may have been. I suspect though, and this is possibly in the thoughts of Themistius as he wrote about his concerns, that the dwindling stocks of animals in the wild was making itself felt in a very subtle way. Certainly it would have affected their wallet. Increasing numbers of beasts for the arena would have required importation and lengthy transportation, making the use of the creatures much more expensive. So we see both finance and practicality as two reasons for the decline in animal slaughter toward the late empire. The decline of pagan practises must also have contributed. But lurking beneath the obvious was an uncertainty about the world. Because the Romans felt this divine purpose about infinite empire, it would seem in the order of things that the gods were providing the world for the Romans to exploit, something we know they did readily. With a declining resource in the increasing rarity of wild beasts, are the Romans somehow not keeping faith with their gods? The point I getting to then is that Themistius has a better overview of the world, by his education and position in society. He has witnessed the ebb and flow of current life and knows about the history of his realm. He sees the changes occuring around him and has begun, deep down, to question his Roman prerogative? Only with guilt would Themistius have made an intellectual change of heart and assumed the mantle of enviromentalist. That is the essential point then. For all his worries about barbarians and the natural world, he voices no guilt. Themistius is therefore indeed as Roman as his contemporaries.

The Idiots Guide To Everything in this case points to some documents somewhat better informed. Point taken, but then again, you can only cite superior references when you find them. Until I do, I shall have to rely on the research of other individuals who have had work published or presented on television. In any case, one has to be careful that the veracity of their sources aren't being accepted at face value without some critical appraisal. To blindly accept Suetonius as fact would be a little misguided, yet he remains a primary source. Also, the use of statistics in cases where no primary source lists any can only be a derived figure at best, and I've spoken elsewhere about the dangers of relying on the manipulation of numbers to prove a point. The Romans themselves made only passing references to the numbers of beasts slaughtered in the arena, and then only in cases where the figure was substantially noteworthy. To appreciate the situation it therefore becomes necessary to utilise secondary sources because otherwise we're left with an incomplete picture. That doesn't mean our resulting picture is necessarily correct. It must be seen that our understanding of history is based on what information has been accrued and the interpretation of it. However heartfelt our picture of Roman history, there must always be a willingness to set that aside in the light of better information, something I've had to do many times on this site. The reality of detailed research is that the internet isn't the tool to do it. For that you need archives, libraries, a lot of time, and in some cases, finance to support your endeavour. Wikipedia may not be the most authoritive guide, but to provide a quick answer that the majority of viewers will appreciate, it does have its uses. I would also point out that since I no longer have transport, computer, or means to afford a research project, I am currently more reliant on the idiots guide than I would like to be. As things stand, a simple article I could have written overnight for these forums will now take weeks. So I'm afraid prodding me for better sources at this time is a waste of effort. I'd like to help. In fact, I'd like access to better sources too.

Yo ho ho mee hearties, 'tis blowing a gale and the seas be rough. This be weather to sort out the landlubbers from old sea dogs. Haven't seen a good squall like this since last year. Batten down the hatches boys and break out the rum. Ye'll be needin' it fer the journey 'ome... Ha ha harrr. They promised foul weather this morning and delivered on it. It is horrendous out there. For old sea dogs and parrots only. Wooden legs available while stocks last. From the Window A few days ago I was sat at the window of my home reading a good book, watching the world go by, and generally chilling out. Across the street, an older man plodded slowly along the pavement, pausing occaisionally to study the buildings and looking a little confused. He stopped at one gateway. He pointed, looking around, unsure if this was his destination. A step forward and again he looked around, searching for some clue as the address. Another step. Again he pointed and looked around. At this point one of the occupants of the premises had spotted the bloke outside. A middle aged man came out, escorted the old guy back to the street, and after a quick exchange, pointed him in the direction he needed to go before vanishing back inside. The old guy looked up the street, then pointed... From Another Window Late afternoon at the library and I'm sat in the second floor lounge, with its splendid view of the busy street below. Across the road is a bar, quite a popular one though I've never partaken of its services myself. The rather tacky neon sign hardly works anymore, welcome to IS='s. Outside on the pavement an old man was busy gesticulating and talking earnestly. I wonder what that's all about? At first I thought he was remonstrating with a passing driver but no, he was busy talking to himself. This went on for around ten minutes and the old guy had parked himself next to the entrance. naturally this attracted attention from the staff. An impatient young man shooed him away. The old guy stumbled along the pavement, barely able to stay on his feet, and as far as I could see, in no need whatsoever of purchasing drinks from IS='s bar. He tried to talk to another person waiting to cross the road, who in turn tried very hard to avoid his unwanted companion. Eventually the pedestrian decided risking life and limb by walking across the road through busy traffic was a better idea. When I last saw the old man, he was stood talking to a dark corner. A part of me sympathises and hopes he gets help for whatever his problem is. I suspect part of that problem is exactly the reason I can't help him either. Apology of the Week I got it wrong. I really did. The Dizzie Rascal gig was the night before. All due apologies to anyone who made a wasted trip but good grief, discover music before it's too late.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/European_Lion http://www.unrv.com/forum/index.php?showto...mp;hl=bestiarii

Maybe he foresaw the disunity in the Empire which was to become very problematic a decade or two later, and this was his attempt to address it. Later emperors used religion to this purpose. An interesting point, considering Caracalla had all the hallmarks of a warrior-emperor. Definitely a soldiers man. Somewhat ironic then a Roman soldier killed him on campaign. The problem with individuals in that sort of powerful position is that if they become focused on military activity (as Caracalla clearly wanted to) it tends to be at the expense of everything else. Now of course he did instigate civic improvements. As history shows, emperors were usually a tad cynical about that, as public benificence was expected of a wealthy ruler (and interestingly, would remain a characteristic of Italian culture even as late as the Renaissance). Caracalla may have been a very hard-nosed individual (am I being too generous?) but he wasn't stupid. Keep the Romans sweet. Unfortunately, his ideas of how to do that would have also included military glory and triumphs to warm the Roman heart. It remains unlikely he would have conquered Parthia, which as a region showed considerable resilience over the centuries in resisting Roman aggression, and he he not been assassinated you have to ask whether his reign was going to be remembered fondly even with his efforts to appear a beneficent ruler on the home front.

The heartland of Roman occupation? If our experience of the Newcastle trip is anything to go by, a visit to an 'area' as opposed to a 'location' will need careful thought regarding logistics. As we discovered, it's very easy to overstretch your itinerary (and miss your bus).

It didn't fail at any given time, it just never worked well at all. It required the efforts of the two individuals mentioned above for any notable success at alleviating the problem. After all, the entire point of the Saxon Shore was to ward off incursions, yet these incursions continued for centuries, and the defense in depth strategy of the late empire was designed to react to incursions after landing, not on the coastline itself. There is some literary evidence from Roman writers. You can find some of it through the links on this site. I managed to find them. Other than that, post-historical analysis (with reference to archaeological evidence) fills the gap quite neatly.

On the contrary, we assume it worked reliably, but when you consider the efforts required to ward off the Saxons were only succesful in two circumstances, the initiatives of Theodosius and the campaigns of Stilicho, the perspective of the defense changes considerably. The fact was that the Saxon Shore was ill-defended. Not entirely the fault of the Romans (it must have been extremely difficult to stop Saxon raiders nipping in and out), but perhaps more of a failure of resolute persistence to deal with an ongoing situation. In other words, the Roman defenders did not approach the problem with their usual relentless and overwhelming aggression. Partly because of geography, partly through irresolute leadership.

Actually, you need to understand what Themistius is on about. he isn't voicing modern sentiment. The Romans believed as a society that they had mastery over nature. They revelled in it, and celebrated this superiority in their beast fights and hunts staged for the arena. In bemoaning the loss of these fine animals, what he means is not that these cute and wonderful species are no longer romping around looking magnificent, but that they are a passing symbol, a lost age, the end of a time when man struggled against nature valiantly and heroically, making do with imported creatures of wretched condition and less impressive stature. Please understand what these creatures meant to the Romans. Whereas we marvel at these end-results of evolution, we see them as such because our society has developed that viewpoint and that's what we teach our children. A hundred years ago, such animals were caged up in conditions far less sanguine and without concern. For the Romans, who saw the death of a fine animal as symbolic and a kind of celebration of Roman virtue (although the fighting of animals inevitably means the fighter is tarred with being of the same stature), the animals were sources of entertainment. Certainly Romans will have looked on in awe at these strange and often dangerous animals, but that has more to do with rarity and mystique. There is an almost spiritual aspect to their regard (or lack of it) for wild animals. The men who hunted these animals for transport to the arena were well paid professionals, who operated in large teams using funnel-nets and all sorts of tactics to capture them without injury to either side. Soldiers also played their part. One german-based legion boasted of their Ursarii, their 'bear hunters', who earned a substantial side-income from this activity. In fact, the entire animal-industry was a huge commercial enterpise, lucrative if somewhat risky, some animals dying en-route through lack of care or accident. Perhaps Themistius had a more humanitarian view of animals. He was, however, a man born into the Roman world and we cannot assume he voices the modern concern for our enviroment that has become such a popular issue today. He is, therefore, sorry to see them go. What great displays they once made.