Rome vs Scotland

The year is 83AD, Britain is entirely occupied by the Romans. Well, not entirely… One small pocket of indomitable Caledonians still holds out against the invaders. But not for long. Somewhere in the eastern Cairngorm mountains, probably between Balmoral and Aberdeen, a formidable Roman army has massed in an attempt to finally subdue the island once and for all. The silver and golden regalia of the centurions and military tribunes glint in the wan Scottish sunlight, the braying and scraping of the cavalry typifying the calm before the storm, men on both sides saying their final prayers to their respective gods of battle.

The incursions of the divine Julius are a distant memory, the Iceni led rebellions with Boudicca at their head are also now decades old, the Welsh marches and north of England are quelled; even Anglesey has been brought to heel.

The Roman warhost has pushed up to and beyond the Firth of Forth, and the thirty thousand strong Caledonian army led by Calgacus have calculated that they can retreat no further, and must therefore stand and fight; The Battle of Mons Graupius - Britain's last chance to save itself from complete subjugation - is at hand.

Behind his auxiliaries, but on foot, in the centre of the line with his veteran regulars, and in the shadow of their Eagle and the colours of the standard, is Gnaeus Julius Agricola. He is governor of the whole province of Britannia, commander in the field, and among the leading statesmen of the entire Roman world.

Despite being heavily outnumbered (probably about eight thousand infantry and three thousand cavalry) and fighting for prestige and honour rather than survival, Agricola is to win in overwhelming fashion. On that day perhaps as many as ten thousand Britons were slaughtered, twice as many fled into the ‘trackless wilds’ of the Scottish Highlands, while apparently only 360 of the Roman coalition were lost.

Britain did not regain its independence for well over three hundred years; not until the Romans left of their own accord due to existential strife back in Italy.

How do we know all these details, though? Where do I get the temerity to paint such a specific picture, I hear you cry? The answer, in short, is Tacitus. The ancient historian Tacitus, writing during the age of Trajan, gives us all these details and more in his first literary effort De vita et moribus Iulii Agricolae - On the life and character of Julius Agricola.

Tacitus, known largely for his more expansive historical works, the Histories and the Annals, also wrote short tracts about both Britain and Germany, at that time barbarian peoples on the fringes of the Roman world. In the case of Britain, the descriptions and analysis come in the form of an extended eulogy/hagiography of his late father-in-law, Agricola.

In the Agricola Tacitus gives us a brief history of Rome’s fifty year conquest attempts, it’s leading personalities and events, then goes into detail about the career or Agricola himself, his years of campaigning, his delicate handling of the paranoid and jealous emperor Domitian, and finally Agricola’s untimely but natural death.

It is a treasure trove for those interested in Roman Britain. It is a treasure trove for those interested in the age of Domitian, Nerva and Trajan. It is filled with brilliant and famous quotes; I highly recommend it.

For example, it is in this mere fifty page discourse that we get the immortal lines about how the native inhabitants adopted the toga and the Latin tongue, how ‘the population was gradually led into the demoralising temptations of arcades, baths, and sumptuous banquets. The unsuspecting Britons spoke of such novelties as ‘civilisation’, when in fact they were only a feature of their enslavement.’ 

Though there is no archaeology showing the Romans ever built any forts in Ireland, we are told ‘that Ireland could be reduced and held by a single legion with a fair-sized force of auxiliaries.’  

Other zingers include a speech by the ill-fated Calgacus who speaks of the Romans thusly: ‘Pillagers of the world, they have exhausted the land by their indiscriminate plunder, and now they ransack the sea. A rich enemy excites their cupidity; a poor one, their lust for power. East and West alike have failed to satisfy them. They are the only people on earth to whose covetousness for both riches and poverty are equally tempting. To robbery, butchery, and rapine, they give the lying name of “government”; they create a desolation and call it peace.’

Tacitus’s criticisms of the emperor Domitian are as sharp as a surgical scalpel. ‘He (Agricola) knew that there was nothing so dangerous for him as to have the name of a subject exalted above that of the emperor.’  

We hear how Domitian expertly harboured his jealousy and mistrust until the time was right to thwart Agricola’s career, and that the very act of doing so could only breed further resentments. ‘It is an instinct of human nature to hate a man who you have injured.’

Finally, in great classical tradition, Tacitus tells us that the late Agricola can only now count himself lucky, or having had a good life, for he passed away before the last years of Domitian’s reign, when it became truly monstrous. ‘We may justly count him even fortunate who, with his honours unimpaired, at the height of his fame, leaving kinsmen and friends secure, escaped what was soon to come… Happy indeed were you, Agricola, not only in your glorious life, but in your timely death.’

If you’ve ever read any Tacitus and liked it, or you’re a fan of Roman Britain, Tacitus’s Agricola is a must.