Lucullus Page 9
Mithridates responded to the rebuff of his emissaries by urging his son-in-law Tigranes to invade Cappadocia in modern central Turkey (Tigranes was married to the king’s daughter Cleopatra). Cappadocia was an obvious theatre for war between Rome, her allies and Mithridates’ empire – and in 74 BC, it happened that Lucius Octavius, the new governor of the nearby province of Cilicia, died unexpectedly.32 For Plutarch, this was a critical moment in the life of Lucullus – he now had the chance to guarantee that no one else would be on the scene to conduct any forthcoming military affairs against Mithridates.33 Pompey, after all, was still quite occupied with Sertorian affairs in Spain.
Eutropius’ Account
The historian Eutropius has a brief, memorable account of the opening of Lucullus’ consulship. He notes that in the year of the consulship of Lucullus and Cotta, King Nicomedes of Bithynia died, and that he bequeathed his kingdom to Rome. Mithridates subsequently broke his peace with Rome and invaded Bithynia, with a renewed wish to strike against Roman Asia.34 Pompey’s crisis in Spain added a major file of problems to the desks of the new consuls. If there were domestic problems to attend to in the wake of the dawn of the post-Sullan Age and the political conflicts that came in its wake, there was also the preoccupation of foreign affairs and threats. Lucullus would soon enough clearly devote himself to overseas problems; we can only speculate on how late republican history might have been different had he preferred to remain a force to be reckoned with in the capital. Times were troubled on all fronts, and the tribunes of the plebs in Rome were not about to be distracted by foreign wars – they remained committed to their programme of seeing the erosion of the Sullan constitutional changes.35 In 75 BC, the tribune Quintus Opimius protested against Sullan constitutional initiatives that restricted the tribunes – it was also the year in which a young Julius Caesar was kidnapped by pirates, held for ransom and freed, only to return to see to the death of the Cilician brigands. Opimius would be prosecuted the following year and convicted, and Mark Antony’s father given a commission to fight the pirates of the Mediterranean. Another tribune – Lucius Quinctius – would carry on the fight against the Sullan traditionalists, directly tangling with the consul Lucullus and living to see a day when he might seek revenge over his optimate opponent.36 The conflict between the tribunes and the optimates was a defining feature of Lucullus’ political life, and one in which he was not always entirely successful in negotiating.37 In the words of one modern historian: ‘In 74 BC … the consul L. Licinius Lucullus was made of sterner stuff [i.e., than Gaius Aurelius Cotta], and firmly checked the agitation of the tribune L. Quinctius for the restoration of further powers. Nevertheless the movement continued to gain momentum.’38
The Praecia Affair
The sixth chapter of Plutarch’s life of Lucullus preserves a story that is attested nowhere else in our extant sources. Allegedly, the method by which Lucullus received his appointment to Cilicia – and, by extension, the best chance to win the command in any future war with Mithridates – was through intrigue and chicanery with a woman of questionable reputation. There was allegedly one Praecia in Rome, a woman known for her personality as well as her stunning appearance. The senator Cethegus was absolutely infatuated with her, and would agree to no political decision unless she was in agreement that it was the right course of action. And so, simply put, Lucullus sought to flatter and impress Praecia, so that she in turn would make it known to Cethegus that she supported the appointment of Lucullus as governor in Cilicia to succeed the deceased Octavius. Plutarch admits that this course of action was in no way to Lucullus’ credit; it marks, in fact, a different sort of critical moment in his life.39 Those who would eerily trace all troubles back to a poorly made, critical choice in life might venture to say that the decision of Lucullus to employ Praecia in order to secure an Asian appointment was the morally questionable decision that began what would be a long march toward disappointment, frustration and failed aspirations.40 Lucullus would set out for Asia to handle the Mithridates problem – but it would be resolved ultimately only by Lucullus’ most feared rival, Pompey the Great.
There were those who thought that Praecia was little more than a high-priced prostitute, yet we have no way of knowing the truth of the matter in the absence of additional sources. We do know that it worked – Praecia was persuaded to support Lucullus, and she duly invoked her authority with Cethegus to win him over to Lucullus’ cause. Once Lucullus had obtained what he wanted from Praecia and Cethegus, he dismissed them from his life as so many unnecessary accessories. The Roman politician and arbiter of civil affairs in Rome in the aftermath of Sulla’s death would now have the chance to return to the East, to Asia – and this time, he would venture there on his own.
Chapter 4
The Third Mithridatic War
The year 74 BC was a decisive and fateful one in the life of Lucullus.1 Not only was he in possession of the highest office in Roman political life, but he also secured the opportunity to return to the East and attain what he could hope would be the decisive victory over Mithridates. Pompey was still quite preoccupied with Sertorius in Spain, and there was no other serious contender for the command against the problematic Pontic monarch. Lucullus’ consular colleague Cotta was given the province of Bithynia; his would be the task of guarding the Propontis and a key route from Asia westward.2 Lucullus had a difficult task on many fronts. Plutarch notes that the first challenge to face the new commander was the fact that the men under his command in Asia had grown accustomed to a life of luxury and laziness. These had been the men who had been under the charge of the rebellious Fimbria, and were hardly paragons of virtue and soldierly efficiency. A fragment of Sallust’s history records the action taken by Lucullus in curbing the improprieties of the army in accord with the mos maiorum, or ‘custom of the ancestors’, i.e., the traditions of Roman behaviour and practice.3
The First Commander
Lucullus, Plutarch informs us, was the first genuine commander these men had ever known. He refused to bribe them or engage in any sort of bargaining to earn their devotion to duty. He was willing to take decisive steps to eliminate the most problematic men of his new army, and to teach the others what it meant to be a Roman legionary. Seamlessly, it would seem, Lucullus returned to the world of the military, and now he was no emissary or legate, but the responsible overseer of the force that would finally – one might hope at least – settle the manifold problems of the Roman East.
Lucullus, it seems, could not be criticized in the early years of his new command for his insistence on discipline, rigour and military efficiency. It is possible that the war went on for too long, however, for Lucullus to be able to continue to maintain his expectation of unquestioned practice of the old virtues of the Roman Army. For the moment, however, there were pressing and unavoidable concerns. For the war began quickly, and in earnest. It would be the decisive engagement of Lucullus’ life, the principal event in a life spent in almost constant interaction with some of the greatest luminaries of the last age of the Roman Republic.
In 74 BC, Lucullus was ensconced in Cilicia, and his colleague Cotta – with a fleet – in Bithynia and the Propontis (i.e., the Sea of Marmara). These appointments were extraordinary; they were not made in accord with the usual allotment of provinces, but after a tremendous expenditure of pressure and appeal by the consuls. Within only four years, Lucullus would be in command not only of Cilicia and Bithynia, but of Asia and Pontus. The map of his power would begin to disintegrate in 69 BC, when Asia was restored to the normal senatorial provincial allotment list; that year would mark the definitive commencement of the diminishment of Lucullus’ power in the Roman East. He would have something in the neighbourhood of five years to accomplish a mammoth task.
All of this would come all too soon for the optimate commander. But what of the immediate progress of the war? Mithridates took the initiative and invaded Bithynia. This he had done before, at the commencement of the First Mithridatic War. The historian Orosius i
s memorably succinct about this original invasion: Bithyniam deinde pari clade corripuit, ‘then he seized Bithynia with a like slaughter’ (i.e., like that he had wrought in Cappadocia).4 Now he repeated his earlier trick. This was a perfectly plausible course of action for the king, for he might have had intelligence that indicated that Cotta would not be much of a match for a major assault. Throughout the struggle between Mithridates and Rome, the local population was left in the unenviable position of having to decide which side to favour. Fear and avarice could be equally powerful motivators; certainly the presence of either force in one’s territory was a conclusive factor – even if loyalty was sometimes easier given than maintained. Lucullus could not afford to leave Bithynia undefended and bereft of help. Any plans he might have had for launching an invasion of his own against the heart of Mithridates’ realm would have to be delayed until the king’s offensive moves could be effectively countered. Plutarch makes clear that Mithridates had learned much from his previous experiences in war against the Romans; there was less concern with the luxurious appointments of his vessels of war (no room now for apartments for concubines and lavish baths); the army was to be concerned less with impressive display and more with effective weaponry and fighting techniques.5
We are unsure of exactly where Lucullus first landed in Asia; we are equally unsure of exactly whence all his forces were mustered. We do know that the situation called for rapid action. The Pontic king had a definite strategy to checkmate his Roman adversaries, and his plan had already been put into motion. Mithridates was eager not only to overrun, but also to hold Cappadocia and Bithynia – to name but two of his geographic targets.
Mithridatic Machinations
On paper, Mithridates had appreciable strengths. He was more or less closely allied with the Cilician pirates, not to mention a supporter of the Roman renegade Sertorius based in Spain. He had significant ground and naval forces of his own.
Amid these lightning fast moves of the king, Plutarch’s Lucullus is once again portrayed as an effective diplomat. As he advanced into Bithynia, he had to quell the spirit of unrest among the locals, a population that was sympathetic to Mithridates, to the degree to which it was tired of Roman taxation and occupation. Unfortunately for Lucullus – and the state of Roman success in the East – Cotta was by no means ready to give up a chance at glory. Lucullus’ colleague was apparently in no mood to surrender his opportunity to win some victory against Mithridates. Having withdrawn to Chalcedon – and having heard that Lucullus was on the way to relieve him and to bring much-needed assistance – he decided that he must strike now, and at once, against the king. His goal was that by the time Lucullus arrived on the scene, the battle would be over, and Cotta would have won the fame for having defeated Mithridates. As it would turn out, Cotta would become one of the more spectacular failures of the Roman engagement in the East in the waning years of the Republic – and he would face eventual disgrace for his actions in the war.
The Defeat of Cotta
We possess precious little in the way of specific details about what happened to Cotta, but what is clear is that he was decisively defeated. The battle was both ground and naval: by sea, Plutarch reports that the Romans lost some sixty vessels with no survivors; and on land, some 4,000 men were killed. Cotta was able to take refuge in Chalcedon, where at once Mithridates’ forces prepared a siege. Lucullus would now arrive to help a commander who had cost the Romans thousands of deaths and the disgrace of the first defeat of the new war against Pontus. For Mithridates, the victory over Cotta served many purposes. It had immense propaganda value – the first clash in the war had resulted in a clear victory for the king. It forced Lucullus into a reactionary position. Any interest the general had in invading Pontus would have to wait until the Bithynian situation was remedied. Mithridates needed a quick win over the Romans; the pressing problem throughout the campaign, for both sides, was the question of supplying so vast an army.
Fragments of Sallust’s lost history preserve some details of the defeat of Cotta. Generally speaking, the loss of Sallust’s history is perhaps the greatest single loss to an appreciation of the narrative of these crucial years of the Republic. The focus of the relevant fragments is on the disorderly flight of the Romans to the walls of Chalcedon; Cotta’s men were killed with disgraceful wounds in the back that they did not seek in any way to avenge.6 Appian plainly notes that Cotta was no military man, indeed an inexperienced commander who was inadequate to the task before him. Appian reports that the Romans lost some 3,000 men in the fiasco, not to mention four ships burned in harbour and sixty more towed away by the enemy. Appian does not report the motivation of any desire on Cotta’s part to seek glory ahead of the arrival of Lucullus.7 The historian Memnon (chapter 27.7) notes that there were both naval and land clashes. In the latter, the Bastarnae – allies of Mithridates – defeated Cotta’s forces; a similar disaster befell the Romans at sea. Memnon vividly records that both land and sea were covered with Roman bodies (he assigns casualty figures of 8,000 Roman dead and 4,500 prisoners from the naval clash, and 5,300 dead in the ground battle). Mithridates is said to have lost just thirty Bastarnae and 700 others. As often in ancient histories, we may wonder as to the exactitude of the figures, but there should be no doubt of the lopsided nature of the campaign.8
Mithridates had much to celebrate, but he had also left most of his kingdom more or less defenceless in the process. And so now Lucullus was urged – and quite strongly – to invade Pontus and avenge the loss at Chalcedon by winning a far more impressive victory in conquering Mithridates’ home kingdom. One of the arguments that Plutarch records in favour of this course of action was that nobody had told Cotta to engage the enemy; his own folly had ruined his army and had subjected his men to untold privations. Why now should Lucullus be forced to abandon his best chance of ending the war for good and all? Why should Lucullus save Cotta when Pontus was open to his attack?
The Value of a Single Roman
The answer reported in Plutarch’s life may be considered vintage Lucullus. One Roman, he indicated, was worth more to him than all the treasure of the enemy. To save the life of a single Roman soldier was of greater importance to him than to invade Pontus and to make Mithridates’ kingdom the scene of an awesome victory. There is more than a hint here of the spirit of loyalty, that pietas, that marked Lucullus’ early years. He was devoted to his colleague, even if his colleague had been precipitous and reckless. He was zealous to save Roman lives, even if another course of action at the moment might have ended the war sooner. Cotta was in jeopardy, and that was all that mattered to Lucullus. Episodes like this might well have led Lucullus later in life to feel that he was profoundly unappreciated, that loyalty and devoted concern for his peers and their men did not seem to count for much in the new order of affairs in Rome. Lucullus was a man of his age, and yet a throwback to an earlier time, or perhaps to a time that existed only in the dreams of republican moralists and scattered anecdotes of memorable exempla from earlier Roman history.
Plutarch also preserves a witty remark of Lucullus to the effect that he was at least as brave as a hunter of wild animals; he was not interested in stalking and capturing the empty lairs of his prey. The remark is alleged to have been made to Archelaüs, who had served as a commander for Mithridates in Boeotia, only to have abandoned the king’s cause – the comment on courage may have been especially pointed, given the audience.
Pietas again, then, one might think, was the order of the day.9 It was not at all unwise for Lucullus’ advisors to counsel that he proceed to his Pontic invasion plans. On the other hand, to leave Bithynia at the mercy of the king would mean to jeopardize the Roman position across Asia Minor, and even into Greece and the islands. One could fairly argue that Lucullus needed to respond to the Cotta disaster, and not merely out of loyalty to his consular colleague and fellow Romans. Lucullus could scarcely afford to leave his rear undefended as he attempted to move deeper and deeper into the king’s home territory. But the
image of Lucullus as saviour of his fellow Romans was well deserved – and the attribution of pietas more than fair. Still, Mithridates’ great advantage was the tremendous range of territory in which he could lose himself whenever necessary, an advantage that he would exercise again and again in his dealings with Lucullus and his subordinates.
Cyzicus
Mithridates, meanwhile, planned to move from Chalcedon to Cyzicus, scene of the famous naval engagement between Athens and Sparta in 410 BC in which the Spartan fleet under Mindarus was completely destroyed.10 Sallust says that the king was firmatus animi, or firmed up, strengthened in his resolve;11 Plutarch notes that Cyzicus had suffered the loss of 3,000 men and ten ships in the Battle of Chalcedon, and the spirits of the locals were at their nadir.12 The decision to move from Chalcedon to Cyzicus was risky and daring, yet it was also arguably the correct strategy to pursue. There is also reason to believe that Mithridates had every intention of launching another invasion of the Aegean Sea at some point. There is no indication that he ever considered Asia, and Asia alone, as sufficient insurance against Roman assault. He wanted a foothold in Europe, and moving to Cyzicus was an important step in securing the routes to a renewed attack on Greece and the islands. Once Lucullus learned that Mithridates had proceeded from Chalcedon to Cyzicus, he prepared to shadow (not to say intercept) him, and he proceeded to the vicinity of the village of Thracia, mostly concerned with seizing control of the best routes for supply and provisioning.