Showing posts with label battle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label battle. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Medicus! – Physicians in the Roman Empire

Going to the doctor’s office is never something one looks forward to.

For most, me included, it gets the heart rate and stress levels up to step into a building that’s full of ‘sick people’.

Sitting around in a waiting room with a group of scared, nervous, fidgety folks, is enough to drive you mad, and the sight of a white coat and stethoscope makes one want to run screaming from the building.

It was probably the same for our ancient Greek and Roman ancestors. Most civilians would have been loath to visit with a physician. It might not have been someone you wanted around, in case they looked at you and thought your colour was a little off.

‘Oh dear. That cough doesn’t sound good, my dear Septimius!’

Not so for the soldiers in the field.

I’m not an expert in ancient medical history, but I do know that the level of injury on an ancient battlefield would have been staggering. The sight or sound of your unit’s medicus would have been something sent from the gods themselves.

Imagine a clash of armies – thousands of men wielding swords, spears and daggers at close quarters. Then lob some volleys of arrows into the chaos. Perhaps a charge of heavy cavalry? How about heavy artillery bolts or boulders slamming into massed ranks of men?

Forceps
It would have been one big, bloody, savage mess.

Apart from the usual cuts, slashes, and puncture wounds, the warriors would have suffered shattered bones, fractured skulls, lost limbs, severed arteries, sword, spear and arrow shafts that pushed through armour on into organs.

If you weren’t dead right away, you most likely would have been a short time later.

This is where the ancient field medic could have made the difference for an army. He would have been going through numerous patients in a short period of time. He would have had to decide who was a lost cause, who could no longer fight, and who could be patched up before being sent back out onto the field of slaughter.

The medicus of a Roman legion was an unsung hero whose skill was a product of accumulated centuries of knowledge, study, and experience.
Asklepios and Igeia

Many of the physicians in the Roman Empire were Greek, and that’s because Greece was where western medicine was born. Indeed, the ancient Greeks had patron gods of health and healing in the form of Asklepios, Igeia, and sometimes Apollo.

The greatest medical school of the ancient world was in fact on the Aegean island of Cos, where students came from all over the Mediterranean world to learn at the great Asklepion. Hippocrates himself, the 5th century B.C. ‘father of medicine’, was from Cos and said to be a descendant of the god Asklepios himself.

When it comes to Roman medicine, much of it is owed to what discoveries and theories the Greeks had developed before, but with a definite Roman twist.

Hippocrates
The fusion of Greek and Roman medicine in the Empire consisted of two parts: the scientific, and the religious/magical.

The more scientific thinking behind ancient medical practices is a legacy owed to the Greeks, who separated scientific learning from religion. The religious aspects of medicine in the Roman Empire were a Roman introduction.

Because of this fusion of ideas and beliefs, you could sometimes end up with an odd assortment of treatments being prescribed.

‘To alleviate your hypertension over your new business venture, you should take three drops of this tincture before you sleep. You should also sacrifice a white goat to Janus as soon as possible.’

Many Roman deities had some form of healing power so it depended on one’s patron gods, and the nature of the problem, as to which god would receive prayers or votive offerings over another. Amulets and other magical incantations would have been employed as well.

Ancient surgical instruments
Romans had a god for everything, and soldiers were especially superstitious.

Greek medical thought rejected the idea of divine intervention, opting more for practicallity in the treatment of wounds, and injuries; cleaning and bandaging wounds would have been more logical than putting another talisman about the neck.

All the gods were to be honoured, but in the Greek physician’s mind they had much better things to look after than the stab wound a man received in a Suburan tavern brawl.

For the battlefield medicus, things must have been much simpler than for the physician who was trying to diagnose mysterious ailments. They were faced mostly with physical wounds and employed all manner of surgical instruments such as probes, hooks, forceps, needles and scalpels.

Removing a barbed arrowhead from a warrior’s thigh must have required a little digging.

Of course, in the Roman world, there was no anaesthetic, so successful surgeons would have had to have been not only dexterous and accurate, but also very fast and strong. Luckily, sedatives such as opium and henbane would have helped.

When it came to the treatment of wounds, a medicus would have used wine, vinegar, pitch, and turpentine as antiseptics. However, infection and gangrene would have meant amputation. The latter was probably terrifyingly frequent for soldiers, many of whom would end up begging on the streets of Rome.

It is interesting to note that medicine was one of the few professions that were open to women in the Roman Empire. Female doctors, or medicae, would also have been mainly of Greek origin, and either working with male doctors, or as midwives specializing in childbirth and women’s diseases and disorders. When it came to the army however, most doctors would have been male.

Shears
Army surgeons played a key role in spreading and improving Roman medical practice, especially in the treatment of wounds and other injuries. They also helped to gather new treatments from all over the Empire, and disseminated medical knowledge wherever the Legions marched. Many of the herbs and drugs that were used in the Empire were acquired by medics who were on campaign in foreign lands.

Early on, physicians did not enjoy high status. There was no standardized training and many were Greek slaves or freedmen. This did  begin to improve however when in 46 B.C. Julius Caesar granted citizenship to all those doctors who were working in the city of Rome.

This last point really hits home when it has become common knowledge that foreign doctors who come to our own countries today find themselves driving taxis or buses because they are not allowed to practice.

Modern governments, take your cue from Caesar!

Galen of Pergamon
One of the most famous physicians of the Roman Empire is Galen of Pergamon (A.D. 129-c.199). Galen was a Greek physician and writer who was educated at the sanctuary of Asklepios at Pergamon in Asia Minor.

After working in various cities around the Empire, Galen returned to his home town to become the doctor at the local ludus, or gladiatorial school. He grew tired of that work and moved to Rome in A.D. 162 where he gained a reputation among the elite. He subsequently became the personal physician of the Emperors Marcus Aurelius, Commodus, and for a short time, Septimius Severus.

Galen’s work and writings provided the basis of medical teaching and practice on into the seventeenth century. No doubt many an army medicus referred to Galen’s work at one point or another.

Ancient surgical instruments
I’ve but barely scratched the vast surface of this topic.

For some, there is this assumption that ancient medicine was somehow false, crude and barbaric. The truth is that modern western medicine owes much to the Greeks and Romans, civilian and military, who travelled the Empire caring for their troops and gathering what knowledge and knowhow they could.

The fusion of science, religious practice, and magic provides for a fascinating mix. In truth, medical practices in medieval Europe might have been more barbaric that their ancient predecessors.


Thank you for reading, and may Asklepios, Igeia and Apollo grant you good health!

12th century medieval fresco of
Galen and Hippocrates talking

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Remembrance - Honouring the Dead

Monday, November 11th, is Remembrance Day and Veterans Day.

For some, this is just another day they might get off work. They’ll carry on as usual, ignorant or uncaring of the reasons for this day or why so many people are wearing red poppies.

Thankfully, many people still do remember that Novebmer 11th is a day for remembering those men and women who have died in the line of duty. You may not agree with the motives for some of these wars, you may support them vehemently. Whatever your opinion of the battles, this is a time to honour the courage of the soldier on the ground, the warriors past and present.


This year, I’d like to share an excerpt from Homer’s Odyssey. Below is a moving description of the funeral of Achilles, the Greek warrior who has inspired soldiers and others for thousands of years. Here, in the meadow of asphodel, the 'dwelling-place of souls', Agamemnon meets Achilles and tells the hero of his funeral in the land of Troy:

Happy son of Peleus, Achilles like the gods,” answered the ghost of Agamemnon, “for having died at Troy far from Argos, while the best of the Trojans and the Achaeans fell around you fighting for your body. There you lay in the whirling clouds of dust, all huge and hugely, heedless now of your horsemanship. We fought the whole of the livelong day, nor should we ever have left off if Zeus tore their hair and wept bitterly round about you. Your mother, when she heard, came with her immortal nymphs from out of the sea, and the sound of heavenly wailing went forth over the waters so that the Achaeans old Nestor whose counsel was ever truest checked them saying, `Hold, Argives, flee not, sons of the Achaeans, this is his mother coming from the sea with her immortal nymphs to view the body of her son.' Thus he spoke, and the Achaeans feared no more. The daughters of the old man of the sea stood round you weeping bitterly, and clothed you in immortal raiment. The nine muses also came and lifted up their sweet voices in lament—calling and answering one another; there was not an Argive but wept for pity of the dirge they chanted. Days and nights seven and ten we mourned you, mortals and immortals, but on the eighteenth day we gave you to the flames, and many a fat sheep with many an ox did we slay in sacrifice around you. You were burnt in raiment of the gods, with rich resins and with honey, while Achaean heroes, horse and foot, clashed their armor round the pile as you were burning, with the tramp as of a great multitude. But when the flames of heaven had done their work, we gathered your white bones at daybreak and laid them in ointments and in pure wine. Your mother brought us a golden amphora to hold them—gift of Dionysos, and work of Hephaistos himself; in this we mingled your bleached bones with those of Patroklos, who had been closer to you than any other of your comrades now that Patroklos was no more. Over their bodies we the sacred army of Argive spearmen piled up a huge and perfect tomb, on a jutting headland, by the wide Hellespont, so that it may be bright from afar for men coming from the sea, both those who are now and those who will be in the future. Your mother begged prizes from the gods, and offered them to be contended for by the noblest of the Achaeans. You must have been present at the funeral of many a hero, when the young men gird themselves and make ready to contend for prizes on the death of some great chieftain, but you never saw such prizes as silver-footed Thetis offered in your honor; for the gods loved you well. Thus even in death your kleos, Achilles, has not been lost, and your name lives evermore among all humankind.” (Homer; Odyssey. Book 24. lines 35–95)

 
Troy - Kesik Tepe, Turkey - possible Tumulus of Achilles where
Alexander the Great made sacrifices to the heroes of the Trojan War

This passage never fails to move me, for it honours one of the greatest heroes of the ancient world in such a beautiful way. Today, Achilles may seem outrageous and brutal, selfish. But to ancient eyes, he was what every warrior aspired to. For thousands of years afterward, the ghost of Achilles’ exploits followed men into battle at home, and on foreign fields.

Achilles is buried with his brother-in-arms, Patroklos, in a tumulus overlooking the sea, far away from their home in Greece.

So too are buried hundreds of thousands of soldiers who fought in the horrible wars of our modern era. They lie in orderly rows, also overlooking the sea, where they were buried by their brothers and sisters in war.


Never mind the political machinations of the past and present. Those who have lost, and fought, and suffered, and died, are no less deserving of our remembrance than the heroes of that long ago war beneath high-walled Troy.

I remember you all and thank you for your sacrifices. Wherever you may now be, I hope my thanks, and the smoke from my offerings will reach you there.


Friday, March 29, 2013

History or Your Story?


This week I’m very pleased to have author Roberto Calas as a guest on Writing the Past. Roberto’s recent Kindle Serial, The Scourge, has definitely made a splash in the realm of historical fiction/fantasy and to me, it is a wonderful melding of good historical research and fantasy. Oh, and it has Zombies! 14th century England has never been so exciting and yet so terrifying. Roberto talks to us about the creation of this unique work and the choice that all historical novelists must face: History or Your Story?


Can you imagine what people eight hundred years from now would think of our civilization if all they had to judge us by was a Fox News story? Or a Huffington Post article? Or, God forbid, an article from the parody newspaper, The Onion?

I think about this sort of thing all the time as I research my stories. Because, really, we base all of our knowledge about the Middle Ages on personal accounts written by biased sources, and a tatty old tapestry in France.

How do we really know that King Harold was shot in the eye with an arrow? How do we know that Brutus stabbed Julius Caesar? How do we know that Justinian’s wife convinced him not to flee Constantinople?

How do we know that the 14th century plague wasn’t a zombie virus?

We don’t. Not for certain.

We take other people’s written accounts of it. If history is always written by the winners, then we never get more than half the story. But this nagging knowledge should not stop us from trying to be as accurate as we can.

We are writing a story that, we hope, will move readers. We want to entertain, we want to quicken pulses and control what readers feel and when they feel it. So we have to make the reader believe what we are writing.

Okay, so I’m fairly certain that the 14th century plague wasn’t a demonic virus. But if I want to write a novel like The Scourge, where a trio of knights travels across zombie-infested England, I need my readers to suspend their disbelief. I need to add enough realism and detail to the setting and language and props of the story so the reader can put aside his or her doubts and, for a time, believe that those plague victims staggered and ate human au jus.

How do I do that?

I have to learn as much as I can about the time period. From the clothes people wore to the political ideology of the time. I need to know common surnames in the region. If the towns and villages had different names in the 14th century. Which churches were around and which were not. Is there chalk beneath our heroes’ feet? Or slate? Are there elms above their heads? Or Ash? What type of flower grows in the marsh? What’s that little circular thing that dangles down over a knights’ armpit called? How much did a dairy cow weigh back then? Where in London did the peasants confront King Richard II? Why are there Flemish in Sudbury?

I need to immerse myself in 14th century England. And I need to do it from sources I know might well be flawed. Really annoying, actually. But I have to do it. Because there will be someone out there who knows the established wisdom on Richard II and the Peasant Revolt. Or what a dairy cow weighs. Someone who knows what that little dangling thing is called. Who knows exactly why the Flemish came to Sudbury.

And even after researching it, someone will still point to a fact and say (probably in a nasally voice) “Um, actually, that sort of cannon wasn’t around until 1401,” or something similar. There are too many contradictions in historical research. But you have to do the legwork. Try to visit the places you write about. Read books, don’t just search the Internet. You can find fifty great facts in a book in the time it would take you to completely research one fact on the Internet.

Okay. Now that I have said all this, I will refute every word.

After all your research is done, forget it. Write your story. The research is for the world and the details. It is the anchor that grounds your tale. When there is a conflict between history and your story – an honest to God one that you can’t possibly avoid no matter what you try – then your story should always win out. Because story is what readers really want. They just want to believe that the story you wrote could have happened. And it takes a lot of work to satisfy them. Historical fiction lets you lean on factual people, places and events, but it is merciless in your accurate portrayal of them.

Even though no one is completely certain what that accurate portrayal is.

Roberto Calas is an author of historical fiction and fantasy. He lives in Sandy Hook, Connecticut (yeah, that Sandy Hook), with a set of wonder twins. His fiancée lives in England and his closest relative lives four hundred miles away. That’s how he rolls. His most recent novel, The Scourge (47North), takes place in a demon-ravaged 14th century England and is completely, one-hundred percent, absolutely, historically accurate. Sort of.

You can find him at his website, www.robertocalas.com, on Facebook, or on Twitter @robertocalas

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I’d like to thank Roberto Calas for taking the time out of his very busy schedule to write such an interesting post and give us a hint as to what went into the writing of The Scourge. If you haven’t read this yet, I highly recommend it. Part of me was left thinking that the Black Death was indeed a plague of zombies! As ever, historical fiction/fantasy can explore beyond the boundaries of what is known, and that always makes for an exciting read. 

To get your copy of The Scourge visit Amazon.com