In researching my next novel—set in Republican Rome in 216 B.C.—I find myself more and more amazed by what people that long ago were able to do with the relatively meager means available at the time. It’s incredible, really, that without computers, calculators, or any kind of transport absent that provided by human and animal muscle, the Romans and other ancient peoples were able to build such incredible structures. And they did it all without the aid of “conveniences” like clean water, safe food, and modern medicine, to say nothing of virtual necessities like air conditioning and Dr. Pepper.
Anyone who’s visited Rome can easily grasp what I’m saying here. Look at the Flavian Amphitheater—otherwise known as the Colosseum—and note just a couple of things. One, built of stone and Roman concrete (that’s right, concrete), it’s still standing today, some nineteen hundred years after it was built. Two, the design is thoroughly modern in so many ways, from the retractable awning providing shade, to terraced seating that facilitated everyone seeing the action, to the carefully-constructed entry and exit ways which allowed the stadium to be emptied of all 50,000 patrons in an astonishing ten minutes. And this structure was designed, constructed, and maintained without any of the tools available to a modern engineer. Frankly, without many of the tools available even to a Renaissance engineer!
When I finally made it to Rome last year my wife can attest it was like letting a kid loose in a candy shop, I couldn’t decide where to go first, but wanted to taste it all! Still, one of the things that stuck out most strongly in my mind included the realization of just how high Roman structures could be. Ancient writings make clear that many Romans lived in apartment buildings, but this is difficult for us to imagine, right? We just don’t think of ancient people living apartment lives. And yet among the many ruins near the Forum, you can clearly make out multi-tiered structures where the lower stories are set up as shops and the upper levels serve as living quarters. These are honest-to-goodness stone, brick, and mortar apartment buildings!
Another thing that struck me was the ruin of the Aqua Claudia entering the Palatine Hill near the Circus Maximus. The architecture of this aquaduct, a succession of virtually identical arches that once supported an elevated waterway, is impressive to behold, though not much of it remains within the city. Still, the thought that this structure once carried water into the heart of the ancient city from over 43 miles away is simply fantastic. Somebody—a normal human like you and me—thought to himself one day, “Hey, let’s build the longest vertical engineering structure ever conceived by mankind and bring water to the city from those mountains off in the distance over there.” Who does this?
Today, the ruins of the Forum are incredible to behold, but the sheer density of buildings in the ancient city is really difficult to imagine. Every day before we set out on our sight-seeing in Rome I reviewed an ancient map of the city to remind myself what the modern buildings and busy streets had built over. This was the political and cultural center of the western world and every modern nation from Turkey to the United States was ultimately affected by its long reign.
And yet as impressive as Roman feats of engineering appear to us today, it’s their attitude, I guess you’d say, that captures my imagination even more. Romans of the time didn’t seem to have the word “quit” in their vocabulary, and I find this a very endearing quality. Undoubtedly, the ancient Romans inadvertently built many unsavory elements into their political and military system that would eventually undermine that civilization. Yet during the early to mid-republican period, none of these seeds of future destruction were fully apparent, and the behavior of that nation-state, and its citizens, remains incredible to me.
To be more specific, I spend a lot of time, lately, researching the Second Punic War (218-201 B.C.) because that’s the setting of my novel. The cycle of panic—response—defeat—panic that occurs in the years following Hannibal’s crossing of the Alps and invasion of Italy makes for truly compelling reading. More than that, it makes me wonder just what kind of people these master engineers really were.
Hannibal Barca, the now famous Carthaginian general, led a tough, veteran army of North African, Spanish, and Gallic troops and mercenaries all the way from Spain on a surprise winter crossing of the Alps in 218 B.C. He may have lost half his army in the process due to the cold and the treacherous alpine terrain and tribesmen. The survivors deposited out the southern edge of the mountain range into what was then called Cisalpine Gaul, or literally the part of Gaul on the “near” side of the Alps, what is today considered Northern Italy. This was territory Rome had conquered and annexed just two years prior. Thus, all of a sudden, Hannibal commanded 24,000 VERY tough soldiers and a handful of African war elephants on Roman soil.
The Battle of the Trebbia in 216, taking place soon after his alpine crossing, was the first in a series of epic Roman military disasters. Hannibal out-generaled his opponents and his troops outfought the Roman army, resulting in some 28,000 Roman casualties for the loss of only about 4,500 of his own. This, for the Romans, meant the destruction of two consular armies—each made up of a pair of legions and a pair of allied alae of roughly comparable size—accounting for nearly half the Roman army mustered into ranks that year.
In response to this tragedy, the Roman Senate quickly assembled another force, four more legions and their associated alae, to face the invaders moving slowly southward. Note that at this point the Roman Army was not yet a professional force, so it wasn't simply the assigning of a different mission to men already under arms. The men called up were property owners intent upon raising and harvesting their crops before being hurriedly mustered into legions and sent off to war. This Roman army was ambushed in the year 217 while marching along the banks of Lake Trasimene resulting in another 30,000 Roman casualties in exchange for about 4,000 Carthaginians.
The Senate once again rose to the occasion and the Roman people responded accordingly, raising an incredible eight full legions and alae to once and for all deal with this Carthaginian menace. Hannibal, for his part, marched along the eastern coast of Italy, by-passing the city of Rome, and headed into the southern end of the Italian boot. There, in 216, the Republican juggernaut—the largest Roman force ever assembled up to this time in history—met Hannibal at a place called Cannae. It was there Rome suffered the most complete defeat, perhaps, in its 600-year history. With a mere 50,000 troops, Hannibal managed to surround and then utterly destroy a Roman force nearly twice that number. By the end of the day’s killing, Rome would suffer a staggering 70,000 casualties!
Now, let’s look at this for just a second. What nation, even in modern times, suffers the loss of 128,000 casualties in the space of just three years and keeps fighting? By comparison, the U.S. suffered 36,516 deaths in the Korean War (1950-53), lost 58,209 in Vietnam (1955-75), and incurred 116,516 deaths in World War I (1917-18). Bear in mind, of course, that the Roman casualty figures mentioned here really account for just three terrible days within those three years, ignoring battles in peripheral theaters like Spain, and losses due to weather, sickness, and desertion. Consider as well that at the time, these losses accounted for a full quarter of the military aged males available to the Republic. This was military defeat by any definition! And yet, not only did Rome not succumb, did not submit, but rather, ended up winning the Second Punic War, defeating Hannibal and Carthage in a series of engagements on its own turf in modern Tunisia.
My favorite podcaster, Dan Carlin, often asks what it was about these Romans, particularly those that made up the Republic of the time period I’m talking about here, that made them confident enough to stare utter destruction in the face and not blink. What was it that made them disregard losses that would have, perhaps, forever crippled virtually any other nation on earth at the time, and decide, against all logic, to fight on . . . and then win?
I can’t help but wonder if the two phenomena aren’t related. Whether the Romans were able to achieve such great and enduring architectural and engineering feats for the same reason they refused to lose on the battlefield. There’s really something to be said for the steadfastness of what appears to be the Republican Roman character. There’s a certain never-say-die approach to all aspects of their culture that echoes through the ages and leaves us in awe of all they accomplished.
The empire that came into being following the assassination of Julius Caesar would go on to produce even more monumental construction and achieve wider conquest. But for me, the civil wars that characterized the founding and sustaining of the empire reflect a growing rot within Roman society that would eventually lead to its fall. It always seems to me that the Roman character after the Punic Wars—the successful conclusion of which flooded the Republic with conquered territories, riches, and slaves in staggering numbers—was no longer quite as admirable. In a very real sense, it seems, Rome fell victim to its own astounding success.
But that fate lay years ahead in Rome’s future. For the time being, with the final destruction of mighty Carthage in 149 B.C., Rome was in every real sense the last man standing after an epic, one hundred and fifteen year dual to the death. The Roman Republic would go on to re-make the world in its own image, expanding to eventually control the lands—and erect the most incredible of architectural masterpieces thereupon—from Portugal to Syria, from Belgium to Sudan.
We should look on these Roman ruins, then, these long-standing monuments to the achievement of a culture long-gone, not merely with a sense of awe and fascination with the scope of physical construction. Rather, they should remind us of what society is capable of when focused, unflinchingly, upon a single goal, a single mission.
What goal are you striving to achieve? Are you there yet? Don’t give up! Hannibal may have won the day at Cannae, but Romans would eventually salt the earth over the smoldering ruins of Carthage. There are metaphorical monuments to build and bridges to erect, but you gotta stay in the fight in order to see it through. Have at it!
To Picture Gallery: Roman Ruins
M. G. Haynes