This Roman ritual made conquered kings beg to die | Mary Beard

The Roman triumph was the ultimate celebration of military success, a grand procession through the streets of Rome culminating in a sacrifice to Jupiter. Awarded to exceptionally successful generals, the exact rules for receiving a triumph were not always clear, with some ancient sources suggesting a minimum of 5,000 enemy dead. The core of the triumph was the triumphant general, who would ride in an ornate chariot, dressed in a purple outfit adorned with silver stars, mimicking the statue of Jupiter. He would proceed to the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus on the Capitoline Hill to offer a sacrifice, honoring his victory. However, the procession was far more than a personal accolade for the general; it served a dual purpose of reinforcing Roman identity for the citizens and instilling fear in their enemies. Preceding the general's chariot were the captives taken during the campaign and the spoils of war. The captives were most impressive when they were of high rank and dressed in exotic attire. A general's greatest prize was to have a captured king, still in his regal garments but bound in chains, paraded before his chariot, showcasing Rome's power. Some captives were depicted in sculptures as being carried on platforms, bound hand and foot, for the public to view. The Roman audience was captivated by these foreign figures, a tangible representation of the territories Rome had conquered. While sometimes evoking pity, these displays primarily served to highlight the general's dominance over the defeated rulers and soldiers. The spoils of victory were not limited to just sculptures, precious artworks, or coins flowing into Rome. The triumph aimed to embody the essence of the conquered territory itself. As Roman conquests expanded into richer and more exotic lands, these processions grew increasingly lavish and spectacular. For the average Roman, who might have rarely traveled beyond their immediate vicinity, the triumph was a rare opportunity to encounter the world and its wonders. It brought the exotic flora, fauna, and artifacts of distant lands directly to the streets of Rome, offering a vivid, albeit sometimes unsettling, glimpse of the world they believed they had subdued. Examples include balsam trees brought from Judea in a triumph celebrated by Emperor Vespasian and his son Titus. Beyond material wealth and exotic specimens, the triumph also featured placards detailing the conquered territories and towns, and depictions of the battles and destruction of enemy strongholds. The victorious troops followed the general, often singing bawdy songs that subtly mocked him, a reminder that despite his god-like attire, he was still mortal. A slave was famously said to be in the chariot with the general, whispering, "Remember you are a man," to prevent him from becoming overly arrogant. The sheer scale and excitement of these events are difficult to fully grasp today, though the Romans erected special stands to ensure good viewing for the crowds. Comparing it to a modern British monarch's coronation falls short; the triumph was a profound ideological statement about Roman conquest and identity. Its primary function was to remind Romans of what it meant to be Roman, while simultaneously projecting an image of power and humiliation onto their adversaries. The dread of being paraded in a triumph was so profound that some defeated monarchs and generals chose suicide over such public disgrace, most famously Queen Cleopatra, who, upon learning Octavian intended to parade her, reportedly declared, "I will not be triumphed over," leading to her death. The triumph was a ceremony of both celebration and humiliation, a testament to Rome's might. The processions could be immense, accommodating hundreds of thousands, and undoubtedly represented a pinnacle of Roman spectacle. While impossible to definitively label it the grandest procession in history, it undeniably set a precedent for celebrations of royal and military power in Europe for centuries to come, influencing Renaissance generals and becoming a template for showcasing a city's might. The Romans meticulously recorded triumphs, with over 200 documented. However, a significant shift occurred under Emperor Augustus in 19 BCE. After this date, only the emperor or members of the royal family could receive triumphs, transforming it from a republican honor for extraordinary generals into a strictly imperial ritual. All wars were now considered the emperor's wars, and any triumph was an honor for him. Pinpointing the grandest triumph is challenging, but Pompey the Great's two-day ceremony in 61 BCE for his victories over pirates and King Mithridates is often cited. Unlike the typical one-day affairs, Pompey's procession was extended due to the sheer volume of spoils. These included extravagant items from Mithridates's court, such as a bronze pot that still survives, ornate sundials, barrels of coin, and famously, a colossal head of Pompey himself, reputedly made entirely of pearls. This opulent display, however, drew criticism. Romans found the pearl head effeminate, as pearls were associated with women, and later, it was viewed as an ominous foreshadowing of Pompey's eventual defeat and assassination by the Egyptians. This highlights a recurring theme: extreme luxury in triumphs was often viewed with suspicion and moralizing, seen as potentially dangerous and a sign of overreach. The triumph represented the acme of a general's career, a dream for young Roman boys. Yet, it was often tinged with the possibility of disaster or hubris. Stories abound of triumphant generals whose sons soon after died, suggesting success could come back to haunt them. There was also the uncomfortable reality that the crowd's attention might be more captivated by the defeated kings and princesses than by the general himself. The Roman philosopher Seneca, reflecting on triumphs, noted that "petty sacrilege gets punished, sacrilege on a grand scale is what gets you a triumph." This quote, adapted from a story about Alexander the Great and a pirate, underscores a critical Roman perspective on power and morality. The pirate who steals with one ship is a criminal, while the king who steals with an army is honored. Seneca's observation suggests that Rome, in its grand scale of conquest, was essentially engaging in a form of sanctioned theft. This raises profound questions about Roman imperialism and whether their celebrated triumphs were merely large-scale plunder, a moral quandary that the Romans themselves grappled with.