True and false at Mons Graupius, Part One

I recently came across the “Romans vs Caledonians” podcast, recorded (in two parts) on 5 September 2021 by Dr Andrew Tibbs. He is there introduced as “an expert on the Romans in Scotland”, no doubt on the basis of his book, Beyond the Empire. A Guide to the Roman Remains in Scotland (Marlborough 2019) and his Durham University doctoral thesis on An Examination of the Location, Intervisibility, Orientation & Interconnectivity of Flavian Fortifications in Roman Scotland (submitted in 2021, but embargoed until 2024, so unavailable). We have seen (in an earlier post) that his book is somewhat unreliable, so I was intrigued to see if the podcast was any better.

It is billed as a discussion of the Battle of Mons Graupius, an event that forms the climax to the vita Iulii Agricolae (“Life of Julius Agricola”) written by the historian Tacitus in AD 98 (the year after he held the consulship), so Dr Tibbs devotes the first 30 minutes or so (Part One of his podcast) to that work. Unfortunately, his knowledge of the Agricola (as it’s known for short) is rather wobbly.

Mainly, he is unwilling to accept that the Agricola is a biography, as this would imply a degree of accuracy that he believes is absent: “I would never really, I think, personally describe it as a biography”, he says. “It is probably best described as, like a play or a film — it’s the edited highlights. You have a beginning, a middle, and an end. You have a big climax, a dénouement. You have an afterthought. So, you know, this is a film of his life, just written down without the pictures. It has elements of truth, it probably has elements of fiction, it’s a bloomin’ good read”. Colourful stuff. But is it accurate?

The “Ninth Legion disaster”

We can agree, of course, that the Agricola is “a good read”, but Dr Tibbs’ claim that “it probably has elements of fiction” really needs to be substantiated. Which parts are fiction?

Dr Tibbs highlights the episode of the night attack on the Ninth Legion, which occurred in the campaigning season prior to the one that saw the Battle of Mons Graupius. Tacitus records that “the enemy massed for a night attack on the Ninth Legion, as being by far the weakest in numbers” (Agr. 26.1: hosti ... universi nonam legionem ut maxime invalidam nocte adgressi). Having sprung the attack, “fighting was already going on inside the camp itself when Agricola, who had learned of the enemy’s route from his scouts and was following close on their tracks, ordered the most mobile of his cavalry and infantry to charge the combatants from the rear” (Agr. 26.2: iamque in ipsis castris pugnabatur, cum Agricola iter hostium ab exploratoribus edoctus et vestigiis insecutus, velocissimos equitum peditumque adsultare tergis pugnantium iubet). As day dawned, Tacitus writes, “finally the enemy were driven back before the rival efforts of two armies, the one wanting to show that it had come to the rescue, the other that it had not needed help” (Agr. 26.3: donec pulsi hostes, utroque exercitu certante, his, ut tulisse opem, illis, ne eguisse auxilio viderentur).

Dr Tibbs wishes to sow the seeds of doubt here. He says that we don’t even know whether the Ninth Legion were occupying a camp or a fort (but Tacitus says it’s a camp) and confusingly claims that “it’s very difficult to prove that they were at this particular site”. (Which site?) He claims that the ramparts were breached (“if defences are breached, and that’s what we’re getting from Tacitus that that’s what happens, they’re going to knock down these ramparts”), but it seems that the enemy entered by the gates. Tacitus actually writes that “they cut down the sentries and burst into the sleeping camp, creating panic” (Agr. 26.1: inter somnum ac trepidationem caesis vigilibus inrupere), and as if to confirm that they had entered by the gates, Tacitus writes that they tried to get back out that way: “they ventured on a break out and a fierce battle followed in the narrow passage of the gates” (Agr. 26.3: ultro quin etiam erupere, et fuit atrox in ipsis portarum angustiis proelium). Finally, Dr Tibbs despairs of ever finding the evidence of the breached ramparts or burned debris that might prove the story and concedes that it is, after all, a movie. The entire episode is dismissed. “So, something may have happened”, he concludes. “The Ninth Legion — the indication is from the literary evidence it was already depleted, because it had been involved in the Boudican Revolt some twenty-odd years before — 15, 20 years beforehand — so it’s difficult to know what was happening. Was this just a rubbish legion that Tacitus decided, right, I need a story, you’re the guys that are going to be, you know. We need to look at it like you would a film”.

The “pantomime villain”

Tacitus writes that, among the Caledonians, a certain Calgacus was “outstanding among their many leaders for his valour and nobility” (Agr. 29.4: inter pluris duces virtute et genere praestans nomine Calgacus), but Dr Tibbs dismisses him as “a storytelling tool”. Clearly, the Caledonian forces required a leader, and it is curious that Tacitus was able to concoct such a bafflingly Celtic name, if he was completely fictional. Nevertheless, for Dr Tibbs, he is “the big pantomime villain that comes in and says, ‘oh, I hate the Romans’.” We can all agree that Tacitus must have composed the speech that he attributes to Calgacus, but Dr Tibbs doubts the man’s very existence: “did he exist?” he asks, before concluding that “We've no evidence. There’s very little there to imply that there was that sort of figure”.

I’m not sure that this level of textual criticism, even combined with cinematographic techniques, will help us find Mons Graupius, but perhaps all will be revealed in Part Two of Dr Tibbs’ podcast.