Tips for Reading The Anabasis

Tigris River
Tigris River

[Jonathan adds: A larger version of this image is below the “Read the rest” link.]

The opening phase of this discussion of Greek soldier, historian Xenophon’s account of the expedition to unseat Artaxerxes King of Persia by his brother Cyrus, has touched on several important elements. First, most important to any great undertaking was logistics, aptly covered in the first post by Fringe. Next, Steven Pressfield introduced the route and how it influenced Alexander the Great, who used the Anabasis of Cyrus as a guidebook in his conquest of Persia decades later. Lexington Green then offered up an overview of the each chapter, laying out the story line in concise detail. Most recently, Joseph Fouche took pen to point out important distinctions between Xenophon’s writing style and that of Herodotus.

The book that most of us have chosen to base our discussion is the translation by Wayne Ambler. In the introduction, Eric Buzzetti writes, “The Anabasis has the makings of a great Hollywood movie.” This statement along should stimulate the most benign reader to pursue the book further. Inside, they will not be disappointed; the story unfolds like a travel log detailing distance traveled, people encountered, battles fought and the unfolding loose republican democracy that formed after the death of their generals at the hand of Artaxerxes. Then becomes what could be described as the one of the great epics combining battles with political intrigue and lessons in leadership.

Anyone who sets out to read this book would do well to prepare themselves by carefully reading the introduction. Then turn to the back and make one’s self familiar with the Historical notes and the Glossary where they will find not only a definition of terms, but an explanation of the scale of measurements which is elementary to follow the journey up country and the escape to safety.

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Xenophon Roundtable: The Shadow of Herodotus

Cunaxa is an interesting counter-point to the three traditional pillars of Herodotus’s Histories, Marathon, Salamis, and Plataea. While those three confrontations took place in or near Attica, the cradle of democracy, Cunaxa happens in Mesopotamia, the cradle of despotism. Herodotus skillfully built a narrative of the clash of East and West, Freedom and Slavery, Democracy and Despotism out of the Persian attempts to conquer an obscure people on the fringes of the Known World. His account looms over those of his successors, even the works of the prickly Thucydides, who considered himself superior in every respect to the world traveling gossip from  Halicarnassus.

Xenophon was no exception. The Anabasis almost reads like a strange mirror version of the Histories. Instead of the Ascent of Darius, Xerxes, or Mardonius into the heart of Hellas, it’s the descent of the Greeks into the heart of Achaemenid power. The squabbling Greeks, under the less than inspired figures of Clearchus, Proxenus, and Menon, appear rather shabby compared to the heroic generation of Miltiades, Themistocles, and Pausanias. Cyrus in his foolish death and disfigured body and Artaxerxes II in his pettiness and undignified scramble to keep his throne fall far short of the power and majesty of Darius and Xerxes, so exalted that Herodotus portrayed them as living embodiments of hubris, pride that not only rivaled but threatened that of the gods themselves.

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Xenophon’s Ascent

The title of the book under consideration is, in English translation, The Anabasis of Cyrus. The title has two key words, a noun “anabasis” and a proper name “Cyrus”.

The identity of Cyrus is unambiguous. We know Cyrus was the younger brother of the King of Persia (really an emperor of many kingdoms). Cyrus was the satrap of Lydia and Phrygia, but he aspired to seize the throne of his brother the King for himself. Cyrus raised an army, led it against the King, and died in battle at Cunaxa, in 401 BC.

The other key word in the title is “Anabasis”, which is transliterated, but not translated, from the Greek. The translator tells us this about the word:

This noun has the root meaning of “a going up,” and it is used to indicate such ordinary ascents as the mounting of a horse or a way of going up a hill. In the sense of a march upcountry, it is used first by Xenophon, only in this work, and only in [certain passages] … It is used three times in Plato’s Republic to indicate the ascent from the cave. The related verb anabaino is used of an “ascent” from the coast to the interior by Herodotus … and by Plato … as well as by Xenophon. I generally translated the verb as “to ascend” and its opposite as “to descend”.

Book I contains the tale of the assembly of the army, and its “march upcountry”, from coastal Ionia, where the Greek mercenary portion of the host came ashore into Asia, and its march into the interior, upcountry from Sardis, Cyrus’s capital, until the two armies meet at the battle of Cunaxa. At the battle, the Persian King’s army in part was defeated, on the section of the battlefield where it faced the Greek mercenaries. The Greek mercenaries “won” their part of the battle of Cunaxa. But elsewhere on the battlefield, due in part to the rashness of Cyrus, and his resulting death, the King’s army defeated the rest of Cyrus’s army. At that point, the Greeks, despite tactical success, were marooned in the middle of a hostile country.

Thus we are faced with a bit of a puzzle from the outset.

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Alexander and Cyrus: Two Different Routes to Babylon

by Steven Pressfield

Great initial post about logistics!   Here’s a related piece–a comparison between Alexander the Great and Cyrus the Younger and their different strategic/logistical solutions to a similar problem: how to bring an invading army to bear against a defending army awaiting the assault in the vicinity of Babylon, in what was then Mesopotamia (today Syria and Iraq.)

Some of what follows is speculative, as no one knows for certain what Alexander was thinking at every juncture.   But it’s based on my research for The Virtues of War, a novel about Alexander.   Here’s my take on how the great Macedonian, invading Persia seventy years after Cyrus (and armed with Xenophon’s Anabasis, which he and his generals studied in great depth) chose a different route and strategy than that taken by his predecessor, bound for Cunaxa.

Both Cyrus’ army and Alexander’s crossed the Euphrates at Thapsacus, three or four hundred miles north of Babylon (see map in our Anabasis).   Cyrus was coming from the north, Alexander from the south, via Damascus–from Egypt, where he had been crowned Pharaoh and son of Ammon.   Alexander was marching to confront Darius III, (grandson of Artaxerxes II, against whom Cyrus and Xenophon campaigned) who was raising an army of a million men.   Contingents of horse and foot had been summoned from all over the empire, from as far away as Afghanistan.   Alexander’s force numbered about 50,000.   Alexander had previously defeated Persian forces twice–at the Granicus River, near Troy, with Darius absent; and at Issus with Darius present and commanding.   This coming fight would be for all the marbles.

Alexander held up at Thapsacus and debated with his generals whether they should follow the Cyrus/Xenophon route straight down the Euphrates.   Alexander decided against it for a number of reasons.   First (here’s where it starts to get speculative), such a choice was expected.   Darius would have time to prepare a field that tilted in favor of the Persians’ preferred weapons, their massive numbers of infantry and cavalry and their scythed chariots.   Second, the Euphrates route would not compel Darius to move.   The Great King could simply sit tight and await Alexander, secure in his bastion at Babylon, with an abundance of riverborne supplies for his troops.   Third, the Euphrates route would bring the two armies together too soon for Alexander’s taste.   He wanted to stall.   He was banking on impatience and discontent gnawing at the morale of Darius’ eager tribal levies, who were not a disciplined modern army but rather horseborne raiders and pillagers.

Alexander’s concept of operations was different from Cyrus’s.   Babylon (Cunaxa) was not his ultimate goal.   Babylon wasn’t even Persia, it was Mesopotamia, a province.   Alexander’s aim was Persepolis in modern Iran, the royal capital of the empire–and the lands further east.

What Alexander feared, entering the heartland of the Persian empire, was having to fight his way across two great and defendable rivers, the Euphrates and the Tigris.   He also had no taste for besieging Babylon, which had walls 150 feet high and fifty feet thick and a circuit of forty miles.

Alexander went north and east from Thapsacus instead of south.   He didn’t follow the Euphrates.   Instead he struck for the foothills of the mountains of southern Armenia.   The season was summer coming into fall.   Alexander preferred to get provisions for his army by sacking unwalled villages, where the harvest would be stored in garners, rather than cities where the year’s grain would be fortified behind walls.   He wanted his horses and pack animals to drink water from mountain streams rather than the silty, unwholesome Euphrates.   And he didn’t want his men and beasts marching in 110-degree heat.   He also feared the dikes and irrigation channels of the country north of Babylon, by which he must approach his enemy.   This kind of terrain could  be flooded easily by the defenders, which would create hellish problems for an army advancing across it.

Alexander wanted to get on the far side of the Tigris (to the east of the Euphrates) without having to make a crossing under fire.   Once across, he reasoned, Darius would be compelled to come out to meet him, thus fighting according to Alexander’s timetable and on unprepared turf.   If Darius failed to face Alexander, he would leave  Persepolis and the eastern empire open to the invader’s depredations.   More importantly, he would lose prestige in the eyes of his own troops and those of the subject nations serving under him.

The final objective Alexander hoped to achieve by taking the northern route was to vanish off Darius’s scope.   He wanted to make the Great King sweat.   Where was Alexander?   What was he up to?   Surely, Alexander reasoned, Darius would be holding many war councils with the impatient, hot-blooded tribal contingents of his empire.   Let them sweat too.   Let them second-guess Darius.   Let them complain about pay and food.   Let them demand action.

In the end, Alexander’s plan worked out a little better than Cyrus’s.   The Macedonian’s tactics did indeed force Darius to march out from his bastion at Babylon.   Darius was compelled to cross the Tigris himself, march his army north some two or three hundred miles to Gaugamela, where he faced Alexander on turf of his own choosing, yes, but not the favored manicured field he was hoping for, at Cunaxa or some other arena closer to home.

Gaugamela became one of the epochal battles of history.   Darius’ defeat made him, in the end, the last Great King of Persia.   The Achaemenid line as rulers ended with him, as did the Persian empire.

Xenophon Roundtable: Xenophon was a Professional

An army marches on its stomach Napoleon Bonaparte

While we have no real idea how much insight Xenophon possessed when he joined the invasion of Persia, the Anabasis is written by a professional with a profound appreciation of the issues of logistics (as is the Agesilaus). From beginning to end, the Anabasis is replete with not just the story of the Persian expedition, but how the Greek forces managed to maintain themselves in supply, from the time of their entry into Persia, until their retreat is complete. Xenophon understands that other professionals will be interested in this as much as in anything else that he relates. It is likely that Alexander read these logistical details with great attention. For instance, if you re-read the Anabasis from the perspective of a logistician, you will find that it serves as a nearly complete narrative of the logistics of the Persian expedition. In most instances, you are far more certain of how the Greeks remained in supply than of what happened to them in battle. If you compare it to other histories you have read, you may well find that there is, well, no comparison.

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