Review: The Bull Slayer by Bruce Machain

Pliny the Younger, now more than ten years older than the vice-prefect of Machain's first novel, Roman Games (my review), arrives in the Roman province of Bithynia-Pontus with a directive from the emperor Trajan to essentially clean house.  Rampant corruption has left the country in ruins.  Partially constructed aqueducts, temples and baths, starved of funding that has been skimmed by ambitious Greek contractors and greedy Roman procurators, are scattered across the landscape.

The Roman Emperor Trajan.
Photo by Mary Harrsch.

Pliny dives into this task wholeheartedly both in the novel and historically, as reflected in his first correspondence with the emperor Trajan upon his arrival:

"I am at present engaged in examining the finances of the Prusenses, their expenses, revenues, and credits; and the farther I proceed in this work, the more I am convinced of the necessity of my enquiry. Several large sums of money are owing to the city from private persons, which they neglect to pay upon various pretences; as, on the other hand, I find the public funds are, in some instances, very unwarrantably applied. This, Sir, I write to you immediately on my arrival. I entered this province on the 17th of September, and found in it that obedience and loyalty towards yourself which you justly merit from all mankind. You will consider, Sir, whether it would not be proper to send a surveyor here; for I am inclined to think much might be deducted from what is charged by those who have the conduct of the public works if a faithful admeasurement were to be taken: at least I am of that opinion from what I have already seen of the accounts of this city, which I am now going into as fully as is possible." - Pliny to Trajan, correspondence XVI.

Statue of Pliny the Younger on the façade of
Cathedral of S. Maria Maggiore in Como.
Photo courtesy of Wikipedia.

But, Pliny quickly learns that the local "Greeklings" have no affection for his diligence or any of their Roman caretakers.  So, when the latest procurator in charge of collecting taxes is found murdered, no one seems to want to cooperate in the investigation of his death.

Pliny begins piecing the clues together with the help of Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus.  Suetonius is often thought of as a gossip monger by modern scholars but he actually held a number of important posts in Roman administration and was Pliny's friend.  Although most famous for his literary work "The Twleve Caesars", at this point in his career Suetonius was working on a compilation of the lives of famous prostitutes, in his Pratum de rebus variis, a light natured work often referred to as the Playground.  So Suetonius' interest in the local prostitutes comes in handy when one of the clues leads Suetonius and Pliny to the wealthy madam of a local brothel.

They learn that the murder victim was a member of the mysterious cult of Mithras, the "Bull Slayer" of the novel's title.  With a doctorate in ancient history, Machain weaves the story artfully around what facts about the cult have been gleaned from the study of over 400 archaeological sites related to Mithraism.

Roman sculpture of Mithras slaying the sacred bull from
a Mithraeum in Ostia Imperial Period 1st - 3rd centuries CE.
Photographed in Ostia Antica by Mary Harrsch.

"Archaeological finds indicate the extent of Mithraism included most of the Roman Empire, from Rome to Turkey to Britain. It was especially concentrated in Rome (35 Mithraic temples found) and its port of Ostia (15 temples). In total, over 400 archaeological find-spots related to Mithraism have been found, along with about 1,000 dedicatory inscriptions and 1,150 pieces of sculpture.

A gilded frieze depicting Mithras slaying the bull (known
as the Tauroctony) from a Mithraeum  in Rome.  Photographed
 at the Terme di Diocleziano  (National Museum) in Rome, Italy
 by Mary Harrsch.

"As in its Persian form, Roman Mithraism was a religion of loyalty, contracts and friendship between men, especially between officials and rulers. There are no known women followers of Mithraism. The cult was supported by several emperors, including Commodus (180-92), Septimius Severus (193–211), and Caracalla (211–17). As part of an effort at renewing the Roman empire, Diocletian dedicated an altar to Mithra in Carnuntum (on the Danube near Vienna) in 307, designating the god patron of their empire (fautori imperii sui)." - Mithraism

Gilt Head of Mithras found in the Mithraeum of
Castra Peregrinorum under Santo Stefano Rotondo
 2nd century CE.  Photographed by Mary Harrsch
at the  Terme di Diocleziano in Rome, Italy

The murder victim held the rank of Lion, one of the seven ranks known from frescoes in the Santa Prisca Mithraeum in Rome and the mosaic pavement of the Felicissimus Mithraeum in Ostia. As the plot unfolds we discover other members of this clandestine sect hold the ranks of  Soldier, Persian and "Sun-Runner" (Heliodromus).  The youngest initiates join the group with the rank of Raven and Machain imagines the mysterious initiation ceremony in one of the novel's opening scenes.

"Contemporary sources indicate this included ablutions (or baptism), purifications, chastisements, fetters and liberation, and ceremonial passwords. Frescoes at Capua (Italy) show the initiates blindfolded and kneeling. A simulated death and resurrection was probably part of the ceremony, as the ascent through the initiation grades was seen as prefiguring the ascent of the soul after death." - Mithraism

A reconstruction of a Mithraeum prepared for the communal meal at
Nijmegen, The Netherlands.  Photo courtesy of Wikipedia.

Tertullian tells us that the simulated death involved the refusal of a crown:

"The Christian author Tertullian sheds some light on intitiation to the third level, "Soldier," in a treatise about Christians refusing crowns in military service. He notes that a Soldier of Mithras, during his initiation in some gloomy cave, is presented with a crown at sword-point. He refuses it, saying that Mithras is his crown, and he never wears a crown after that." - Tertullian (c.200), On the Soldier's Crown 15.

Pliny finds a book of astrology among the victim's possessions and assumes that joining the cult also involves the study of astronomy.  This is consistent with the beliefs of some modern scholars who have speculated that the typical iconography of Mithras slaying the bull found in Mithraic sites is an astrological allegory since Mithras is accompanied by a dog, snake, scorpion and raven, each representing astrological signs.

This fragmented sculpture of Mithras slaying the bull includes a dog,
snake and scorpion representing astrological signs.
Photographed at the Santa Barbara Museum of Art by Mary Harrsch.

So I found Machain's use of Mithraism as a plot point to be both entertaining and educational.

I only found one aspect of the novel troubling.  Machain uses Pliny's relatively young wife, Calpurnia, as  the foundation for a subplot.  Although the subplot was plausible, I had a hard time accepting that a proconsul's wife, and the level-headed and well educated Calpurnia in particular, could have become involved in something so foolish.  Her actions seemed to be more of a silly adolescent even though at this point in her life she was close to thirty years old.

One of the things I enjoy about Pliny's letters is his expressions of unabashed love for his wife.  Pliny clearly adored her in his letters.  One of the most poignant is his Letter LXXIV written to his wife while she is convalescing from a serious illness in Campagna.

"You will not believe what a longing for you possesses me.  The chief cause of this is my love; and then we have not grown used to be apart.  So it comes to pass that I lie awake, a great part of the night, thinking of you,; and that by day, when the hours return at which I was wont to visit you, my feet take me, as it is so truly said, to your chamber, but not finding you there, I return sick and sad at heart, like an excluded lover.  The only time that is free from these torments is when I am being worn out at the bar, and in the suits of my friends.  Judge you what must be my life when I find my repose in toil, my solace in wretchedness and anxiety.  - Pliny the Younger To Calpurnia, Letter LXXIV

Machain must have had this period of absence in mind when he was crafting the subplot although he applied a much darker undertone to the event than I would have preferred.  All marriages have their highs and lows but I would rather keep my vision of unblemished love between Pliny and Calpurnia that has endured through the centuries as revealed in the pages of his letters rather than replace it with a scene from a modern tabloid.

I assume Machain added this plot point to appeal to more female readers and maybe I am just a victim of my own streak of romanticism.

Nevertheless, Machain has once again produced an intriguing story filled with vibrant characters while, at the same time, providing a wealth of historical information about Rome in the second century CE.

Historically, Pliny disappears from the record while either in Bithynia or shortly after his return to Rome as no further correspondence between Pliny and his wide circle of friends has been found after this period leading scholars to believe he died at about the age of 50.  So, I'm unsure Machain will write another tale with Pliny at its core.  He leaves a few loose ends in "The Bull Slayer" that appear to be pointing to a sequel, though, so I am hopeful!

Review: The Joy of Sexus by Vicki León

Vicki León has been out collecting ancient trivia again and this time her subject is sex.  In her latest collection of the obscure, she has assembled anecdotes about ancient aphrodisiacs, wandering wombs, practitioners of erotic mysteries and victims of doomed love.

By reading her book I learned about Callipygia worship - a fixation on a person's derriere - and divine gender-bending that affected such ancient prophets as Teiresias the Seer.  I think my favorite passage from the book, though, was a retelling of the story of Pherenike of Rhodes.

I have not studied ancient Greece as extensively as I have studied Republican Rome so, although I knew that the ancient Greek Olympics were conducted in the nude and that women were not allowed to attend, I had never read any background material to explain why.  León provided me with all the information I could have hoped for in her passage about Pherenike of Rhodes.

Diskobolos (discus thrower) 2nd century CE Roman copy of  450-440 BCE 

Greek bronze by Myron recovered from Emperor Hadrian's Villa in Tivoli, 

Italy.  Photographed by Mary Harrsch at the Body Beautiful exhibit at the 

Portland Art Museum, Portland, OR.

It seems that Pherenike was a young woman born into a family of Olympic victors.  Her father was a champion boxer at the Olympic Games in 464 BCE.

"Her big burly brothers continued the winning streak.  In boxing and the ferocious boxing-wrestling event called the pancratium, Pherenike's brothers swept six different Olympic Games." - Vicki León, The Joy of Sexus

León goes on to surprise me by observing that Pherenike probably watched her athletic family compete in the games when she was a young girl and later before her marriage.  Apparently, young virgins were allowed to watch the games - just not married matrons!

Then León continues saying Pherenike also married a famous athlete named Callianax and bore two sons who also trained for the Olympics.  Pherenike's older son, Eucles, won his boxing event but, because Pherenike was now married, she was not able to witness his victory.

A few years later, Pherenike's younger son Pisodorus entered his name as a contender for the boys boxing competition but before he could complete his ten months of training, Pherenike's husband died.  So, secretly Pherenike took up the mantle and resumed training her son dressed in the male garb of an official trainer.  When his time came to report for the 388 BCE Olympics, his mother went with him disguised in the full length robe of a trainer and carrying the traditional wooden staff.

Boxer Resting 1st century BCE Roman copy of 3rd century 

Greek original by Apollonius.  Photographed at the Palazzo

Massimo in Rome, Italy by Mary Harrsch.

When her son was ultimately victorious, Pherenike, forgetting her precarious situation since a woman attending the forbidden event faced the death penalty of being thrown from the Typaeum cliffs, let out a high-pitched whoop and jumped over the fence to run and kiss her son.

"Either the high-pitched sound of her voice, or perhaps what her jump over the fence revealed, blew her disguise." - Vicki León, The Joy of Sexus

Fortunately for Pherenike, the ten Olympic judges decided not to punish her because of her illustrious family's contributions to the games, but forever after both trainers and athletes were decreed to appear in the nude.

So now I know why athletes are always depicted in the nude on all of those red and black-figure vases!

I also learned about Koan silk, a sheer see-through fabric.  I guess I hadn't kept up on all the latest discoveries and still thought silk worms were a closely guarded secret until much later in history than ancient Greece.  León reveals that some silk worms were purloined by the ancient Persians and made their way to the Greek islands of Amorgos and Kos.  Unlike the Chinese, who killed the worm to harvest the silk from their cocoons, the Greeks let the worm emerge naturally, breaking the threads as it went.  Then, using the same method they used with flax known as hackling, the women produced a gossamer silk that commanded a premium price.  The silk was so popular that Aristophanes referred to it in his play Lysistrata where women go on a sex strike to keep their men from going to war and sexually tease their husbands by prancing around "naked in their Amorgian chitons."

Apparently, in a surviving letter from Plato, the famous philosopher (and León questions "cheapskate?") orders three tunics for the daughters of a host but says "not those expensive Amorgian ones!" (I always love little tidbits that reveal what kind of person  a famous ancient was!)

The fashion eventually reached Rome and León found a quote from Pliny who called Koan silk "the vestments that cover a woman while at the same time revealing her naked charms."

These wonderful little glimpses about the truly personal lives of the ancients is what makes León's book so enjoyable.

There were only a couple of missteps that made me say "What?"  In her chapter about Alexander and Hephaestion, León explains that the Macedonians defeated the Persians at the battle of Issus. Then in the next sentence she says Persian King Darius was killed and his queen Statira captured. (p. 69 - 70) She may have been simply trying to condense the chapter but it makes it sound like Darius was killed at the battle of Issus and, of course, he wasn't.  Darius was killed some time after he fled the battle of Gaugamela and was assassinated by his own officers, who hoped to impress Alexander.  Alexander was not impressed with their treachery and ordered their execution.

Roman emperor Caracalla by Italian sculptor
Cavaceppi 1750 CE after ancient original.
Photographed by Mary Harrsch at the
J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, CA

León made another confusing statement about the Roman emperor Caracalla.  She alluded to his death being the result of too many mistresses and a gladiator.  Although Caracalla may have dallied with too many mistresses and maybe a gladiator, too, this sounded much more like Commodus.  Caracalla was killed by a member of his own body guard when he stopped to relieve himself while marching with his army near Carrhae during a war with Parthia.  Historian Cassius Dio said the assassin, Martialis, was disgruntled for not being promoted to the rank of centurion.

But, I salute Vicki for such a revealing and fascinating look at lust, love and longing in the ancient world!

Getty to Extend "Lion Attacking a Horse" Exhibit

I just got back from LA but didn't have time to go see this beautiful monumental sculpture.  Maybe I'll get another chance!

THE GETTY VILLA EXTENDS DATES FOR LION ATTACKING A HORSE  

Now through May 6, 2013

LOS ANGELES—The Getty Museum announced today that the monumental sculpture Lion Attacking a Horse, on loan from the Capitoline Museums in Rome, will be on extended view at the Getty Villa until May 6, 2013. Presented for the first time outside Rome, where it has not been on public view since 1925, the sculpture is the centerpiece of a special installation that traces its history from antiquity to the modern era and showcases recent conservation work undertaken in Rome.

“We are thrilled to have the celebrated Lion Attacking a Horse on view for an additional three months,” says Timothy Potts, director of the J. Paul Getty Museum. “This ancient masterpiece is one of the most storied sculptures to have survived from antiquity and is a dramatic addition to the Villa’s galleries as the first work of art visitors see when entering the Museum. We are grateful to our colleagues at the Capitoline Museums for agreeing to extend the loan period.”

Created in the era of Alexander the Great, Lion Attacking a Horse was a trophy of war in imperial Rome before it became a symbol of justice in the medieval city.  The sculpture’s image of savage animal combat was admired by Michelangelo and inspired generations of artists. On the Capitoline Hill, its presence heralded the Renaissance spirit, laying the foundation for the world's first public art collection. For many years, the lion-and-horse image served as the emblem of Rome before being replaced by the famous statue of a she-wolf suckling the twins Romulus and Remus.

Part of “The Dream of Rome,” a project initiated by the Mayor of Rome Giovanni Alemanno to exhibit timeless masterpieces from the city of Rome in the United States, the installation also includes related works from the Getty Museum and Getty Research Institute’s collections, as well as from private lenders.

In August 2012, the J. Paul Getty Museum and the Capitoline Superintendency of Roma Capitale signed a bilateral agreement for cultural collaboration that established a general framework for cooperation on conservation and restoration projects, exhibitions, long-term loans, conferences, publications, and other kinds of cultural exchange. Lion Attacking a Horse is the first major loan to arise from this agreement.

Other cultural partnerships between the Getty Museum and Italian institutions include the Sicilian Ministry of Culture and Sicilian Identity and the Museo Archeologico Nazionale in Florence, which will result in a number of exhibitions and cultural exchanges over the coming years. - Getty Press Release

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A Conversation with "Medicus" series author Ruth Downie

I have enjoyed Ruth Downie's "Medicus" series since I read her very first novel in the series "Medicus: A Novel of the Roman Empire" ("Medicus and the Disappearing Dancing Girls" for you UK readers).  I've followed her hero, Gaius Petreius Ruso, from Roman Britain to Gaul and back again, reviewing his latest adventure, "Semper Fidelis" just a few weeks ago.  Whenever I read a book with a Roman setting and a captivating protagonist, a number of questions about the author's interest in ancient Rome, some of her challenges in character development and research sources invariably arise.  This time, the author has generously offered to answer some of my questions and has allowed me to share her responses with you.

Ruth Downie, author of the "Medicus"
series of novels set in Roman Britain.
Image courtesy of Amazon.

Mary: What aspect of Roman civilization do you find most interesting?

 Ruth: What fascinates me is the contrast between the way Roman culture seems very familiar to us and the ways in which their thinking was so completely different. We can identify with the use of technology, the political bickering, the complex administration, the vast gap between rich and poor – and yet how could they accept slaughter as entertainment? And while there was some tinkering with the law to make the lives of slaves more bearable, the right of one person to treat another as ‘property’ was the basis of the economy and never seriously questioned.

Mary: Why did you choose the early 2nd century CE as the setting for the "Medicus" series?

Ruth: It was a trip to Hadrian’s Wall that sparked my interest in Roman Britain, so it seemed natural to write about the time when it was built. The first novel really didn’t work, but Ruso and Tilla evolved from two minor characters in the backstory. That’s why they ended up meeting some years before the wall appeared. In fact it’s worked out quite nicely, because in SEMPER FIDELIS they can slot into history and meet Hadrian on his only recorded tour of Britannia.

Mary: As a female author what aspect of your male protagonist do you find most challenging to capture?

Ruth: I’ve been racking my brains to remember the instance where I discussed a plot point with my husband, who said, “No, a man wouldn’t do that. A man would…” but I’m afraid neither of us can remember what it was!

Somebody once observed that when a man looks in the mirror he sees a person, whereas when a woman looks in a mirror she sees a woman. I don’t know how true that is now but it was certainly true for the male-dominated ancient world, and I do try to bear it in mind.

Mary: Did you use an historical Roman as a model for Ruso or a modern acquaintance? Who?

Ruth: The character of Ruso is imaginary but his meeting with Tilla was inspired by a real-life dilemma faced by two medic friends. They were stuck in traffic and realised there had been an accident on the motorway ahead of them. They had to decide whether to stay where they were and leave it to the ambulance, or abandon the car, run to the scene and try to help. The trouble was, they were only students, they knew very little emergency medicine and they had no equipment or backup (I left that part out of the novel). Fortunately in real life the ambulance got there first. I didn’t give Ruso that option.

Mary: Do you share particular character traits with Tilla? If so, which ones?

Ruth: Her cooking is possibly slightly worse than mine. Well, somebody’s has to be. Apart from that, she fulfils all my fantasies of one day becoming confident, assertive and decisive.

Mary: Now that Ruso and Tilla are married, how will you maintain the sexual tension between them?

Ruth: Whilst they are indeed man and wife, that’s not irrevocable - divorce was readily available in both their cultures. I think the cultural differences between them will continue to give rise to tensions and while Tilla is married to Ruso, he owes his first allegiance to the Emperor and the Legion. So in a sense she always has to compete for his attention, while he’s torn between his loyalty to the Army and his loyalty to his wife – and of course his duty to his patients.

Mary: In "Semper Fidelis", Ruso is temporarily demoted from an officer to a ranker. This was surprising to me since officers were typically of a higher social class and Roman society usually strictly observed social hierarchy in spite of legal infractions. Did you find an historical precedent for this type of disciplinary action during the imperial period? If so, could you describe the example you found?

Ruth: That’s an interesting point: certainly people of patrician status seem to have been regularly banished rather than suffer a more plebeian punishment. I haven’t found a specific example of demotion of legionary officers, but much of our evidence for military careers comes from tombstones, where failure is unlikely to be recorded. However commanders were able to use their discretion and one of the punishments available to them was demotion.

Secondly, although officers were generally of a higher social class than the men, doctors were an anomaly. Like many skilled trades, medicine was seen to be the province of slaves and Greeks, and its practitioners were rarely held in high esteem in civilian society. The elder Pliny had some very scathing things to say about them, and Ruso’s father was appalled when Ruso was desperate to go and learn medicine from his Uncle Theo rather than be a gentleman farmer. So although Ruso is in a position of authority because he has valuable skills, his social rank isn’t typical of officers – he would have more in common with centurions who had worked their way up through the ranks.

Another point here is that our sparse evidence on military doctors suggests that senior medics may have been appointed on short-term commissions as officers rather than having to serve the 25 years demanded of men in the ranks. There’s some dispute about this but the joy of being a novelist rather than an academic is that you can choose whichever interpretation works best for your story. So I’ve gone with the one that enables me to get Ruso and Valens very conveniently in and out of the Legion. 

Mary: You mentioned on your blog that you have participated in archaeological site excavations. What has been the most interesting site you have helped to excavate and why?

Ruth: Most of my time in the trenches has been spent on a long-term dig of a Roman villa in a scenic location in Northamptonshire – you can see the photos and read more about it at www.whitehallvilla.co.uk. Over the years, what had once been a stony field on a sheep farm was revealed as a large Romano-British villa site. We know from excavated bones that even then, the farm was breeding some very fine sheep.

My favourite day was when we finally dug below what appeared to a mass of rubble from a nearby bath-house and realised the tiles we were beginning to find were the tops of buried stacks. We had found the first heated room of a second, completely unexpected bath complex. Geophysics is a marvellous science but you never really know what you’re going to find until you start scraping away the mud with a trowel. 

Mary: What is one of the most surprising facts about the Romans or early Britons you have discovered in your research?

Ruth: Well, one of the medical textbooks regularly used in the Roman empire offers a cure for earache that involves popping in a boiled cockroach. I can’t say I’ve tried this. Nor have I yet tried to get rid of toothache by shattering the offending tooth with the sting of a stingray. If anyone does, I disclaim all responsibility.

Mary: Who is your favorite author and why?

Ruth: I fear I’m rather fickle – it tends to vary depending on who I’ve just been reading. But Martin Cruz Smith is a firm favourite. His Russian detective, Arkady Renko, is just so cool.

Mary: What Roman (besides Ruso) do you most admire and why?

Ruth: Hadrian. After a wild period in his youth he turned out be an intelligent, ambitious and hugely hardworking man. He was never liked by the Senate – the rumours of a faked succession and the murders of several opponents can’t have helped – but he was respected by his troops and made the effort to travel and see and improve the Empire he governed. Instead of embarking on crazy expeditions into territories Rome couldn’t hold, he drew back and tried to bring peace by consolidating what they already had.

 In the end he became bitter and unpopular, but that was the fate of most Emperors anyway. And I’m mightily grateful to him and his wife for saying insulting things about each other – marital tension is always a wonderful gift to a storyteller.

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Concussion and PTSD in the Ancient World

The Ludovisi Battle Sarcophagus depicting Roman conquest

of Barbarians, 2nd - 3rd century CE.  Photographed at the 

Palazzo Altemps, Museo Nazionale Romano, in Rome Italy

by Mary Harrsch.

After I suggested in my review of "Semper Fidelis  that the antagonist in Ruth Downie's novel, a brutal Centurion named Geminus, may have been suffering from PTSD, Ruth  sent me a link to a very thoughtful post by Dr. Dorothy King  entitled  "PTSD in Antiquity"

In my review, I cited a post by Dr. Jonathan Eaton who had basically dismissed the possibility that ancient soldiers did not suffer from PTSD because modern research points to PTSD being most prevalent in soldiers experiencing explosive events (like IEDs, land mines or booby traps).  He theorizes that since gunpowder or other explosive material was generally not used in ancient warfare, such explosive events did not occur so the probability that PTSD could develop was quite low.  He also pointed to the death-filled environment of the ancient world as something that he felt would desensitize ancient peoples to the trauma of warfare.

Dr. King disagrees pointing to the fact that she, a diagnosed victim of PTSD, had never experienced an explosive event and she knew of a military general diagnosed with PTSD that had never been near explosive devices either.  She was particularly impressed with the research of Jonathan Shay summarized in his book " Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of Character . 

Shay's work has now been made into a poignant documentary entitled "Odysseus in America".  King includes three trailers in her post but this is my favorite.  The voiceover sounds like the highly respected actor, David Strathairn.

Odysseus in America trailer 1 from Charles Berkowitz on Vimeo.

Then I followed King's link to an earlier post entitled "The Rage of Achilles and PTSD".  In it, King discusses what she feels (and I concur) are clear examples in the ancient texts.  Her post opens with a moving passage from Homer:

Then said Achilles, "Son of Atreus, king of men Agamemnon, see to these matters at some other season, when there is breathing time and when I am calmer. Would you have men eat while the bodies of those whom Hector son of Priam slew are still lying mangled upon the plain? Let the sons of the Achaeans, say I, fight fasting and without food, till we have avenged them; afterwards at the going down of the sun let them eat their fill. As for me, Patroclus is lying dead in my tent, all hacked and hewn, with his feet to the door, and his comrades are mourning round him. Therefore I can think of nothing but slaughter and blood and the rattle in the throat of the dying."

Iliad 19.226

Then she goes on to examine descriptions of the behaviors of such ancient military men as a Greek warrior at Marathon, Leonidas at Thermopylae, Alexander the Great and Gaius Marius, all supported by quotes from the ancient sources.

So, I was gratified to find another scholar with personal experience with PTSD who also disagrees with Eaton.   I would like to take her observations just a few steps farther and point to even more recent findings that I feel debunk the "explosive events as the primary cause of PTSD" theory.

I think the results of the autopsy of one of the NFL players who recently committed suicide is particularly significant.  The news reported that the individual had significant brain damage from repeated concussions suffered not from explosive events but from the impacts experienced during a series of football games.  If you consider the repeated impacts ancient soldiers experienced in set piece battles where tight formations were used, such as Greek or Macedonian phalanxes or Roman maniples, the probability of the occurrence of repeated concussions similar to those experienced by modern football players is quite high.  The news program went on to interview the football player's family and they discussed how he had deteriorated mentally from an outgoing, very social individual to a sullen, withdrawn person who no longer found life fulfilling.  As the spouse of a war veteran who has been permanently disabled by severe PTSD, the symptons described by the football player's family sounded all too familiar.

I also think Eaton dismisses too readily the psychological aspects of PTSD in the ancient world because of his observations that the ancient world was a far more brutal environment than we have now (outside of inner city ghettos).  He points out how people were surrounded by death because of disease, accidents without proper medical treatment and entertainments that featured the orchestrated deaths of both people and animals.  I propose that deaths occurring in a venue where the observer and the participants are separated both by physical barriers and social hierarchy (most human victims were criminals, prisoners of war ("Others" so to speak) or slaves (those whose social status separated them from the vast number of citizens in the audience) is distinctly different when compared to violent deaths of friends, family members and comrades fighting right beside you in a person-to-person battle scenario.

We also cannot forget the medical personnel either.  Following the Vietnam War, many veterans (both male and female) who served in a medical capacity were later found to be suffering from PTSD.  The medical environment of an ancient treatment facility following a major ancient battle was far worse than in a modern field hospital.  Ancient surgeons attempted to treat often thousands of wounded in a relatively short time compared to only handfuls at a time during the Vietnam conflict.  Ancient physicians were surprisingly quite skilled, especially Roman military surgeons, but they had little but herbal compounds (and honey if the Romans listened to the Egyptian physicians) to ward off infections.  Their mortality rate was much higher than the relatively low mortality rate experienced in Vietnam.  So, how could they have escaped the effects of PTSD often after years of service, not "just" 6 - 12 months - more than enough to trigger PTSD in modern warfare?

I sometimes wonder if modern scholars think that ancient people just didn't value their lives as much as we do since they did not shrink from casualties as high as 50,000 in a single military engagement or investment of an enemy city.  But if you've ever looked at some of the poignant grave goods found in ancient burials or studied the reliefs and inscriptions on ancient funerary monuments I think you will conclude that we are only separated by time not by our shared human nature.

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