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The Poison King: The Life and Legend of Mithradates, Rome's Deadliest Enemy
Machiavelli praised his military genius. European royalty sought out his secret elixir against poison. His life inspired Mozart's first opera, while for centuries poets and playwrights recited bloody, romantic tales of his victories, defeats, intrigues, concubines, and mysterious death. But until now no modern historian has recounted the full story of Mithradates, the ruthless king and visionary rebel who challenged the power of Rome in the first century BC. In this richly illustrated book--the first biography of Mithradates in fifty years--Adrienne Mayor combines a storyteller's gifts with the most recent archaeological and scientific discoveries to tell the tale of Mithradates as it has never been told before.
"The Poison King" describes a life brimming with spectacle and excitement. Claiming Alexander the Great and Darius of Persia as ancestors, Mithradates inherited a wealthy Black Sea kingdom at age fourteen after his mother poisoned his father. He fled into exile and returned in triumph to become a ruler of superb intelligence and fierce ambition. Hailed as a savior by his followers and feared as a second Hannibal by his enemies, he envisioned a grand Eastern empire to rival Rome. After massacring eighty thousand Roman citizens in 88 BC, he seized Greece and modern-day Turkey. Fighting some of the most spectacular battles in ancient history, he dragged Rome into a long round of wars and threatened to invade Italy itself. His uncanny ability to elude capture and surge back after devastating losses unnerved the Romans, while his mastery of poisons allowed him to foil assassination attempts and eliminate rivals.
"The Poison King" is a gripping account of one of Rome's most relentless but least understood foes.
448 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2009
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6362 people want to read
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June 26, 2016
"I tell the tale that I heard told.
Mithridates, he died old."
- A. E Housman, Terence, 'This is Stupid Stuff'
A fascinating piece of Persian/Roman/Asia Minor history. Mithradates makes almost every other challenger to the status quo seem inept, uncreative and not really committed. He isn't a king or leader you can completely admire. His methods for removing Romans from Asia Minor were not even remotely reasonable (Kill them all and let Zeus sort them out wasn't reasonable even in 88 BC). However, his life was mythic. He was a brilliant linguist, military commander, scientist, and absolutely machismo to boot. He wasn't interested in playing a minor character on the world stage. He wanted to be a Darius or an Alexander the Great type of leader and for much of his life he was. The Romans were terrified of him. He fought them using terror, direct action (both naval and army), statecraft, and asymmetric warfare. He was rich, charismatic and ruthless.
The major shortcoming of this book is one that would probably be the shortcoming of any historical biography of Mithradates: the lack of complete records. So much of Mithradates life is shrouded in rumor, speculation and second and third-hand sources. Those materials that exist are often biased because they were written by Romans. So Mayor is stuck, she can either try to sort out the fact from the fable and sometimes get a little loose with her narrative, or she can write a book that no one but a classical historian would want to read. She chose readability, and the book was VERY readable, but it did come at a cost. The "what ifs and alternate endings and he might haves" get to be a little too much, or at least enough that I couldn't see giving this biography five or four stars.
Mithridates, he died old."
- A. E Housman, Terence, 'This is Stupid Stuff'
A fascinating piece of Persian/Roman/Asia Minor history. Mithradates makes almost every other challenger to the status quo seem inept, uncreative and not really committed. He isn't a king or leader you can completely admire. His methods for removing Romans from Asia Minor were not even remotely reasonable (Kill them all and let Zeus sort them out wasn't reasonable even in 88 BC). However, his life was mythic. He was a brilliant linguist, military commander, scientist, and absolutely machismo to boot. He wasn't interested in playing a minor character on the world stage. He wanted to be a Darius or an Alexander the Great type of leader and for much of his life he was. The Romans were terrified of him. He fought them using terror, direct action (both naval and army), statecraft, and asymmetric warfare. He was rich, charismatic and ruthless.
The major shortcoming of this book is one that would probably be the shortcoming of any historical biography of Mithradates: the lack of complete records. So much of Mithradates life is shrouded in rumor, speculation and second and third-hand sources. Those materials that exist are often biased because they were written by Romans. So Mayor is stuck, she can either try to sort out the fact from the fable and sometimes get a little loose with her narrative, or she can write a book that no one but a classical historian would want to read. She chose readability, and the book was VERY readable, but it did come at a cost. The "what ifs and alternate endings and he might haves" get to be a little too much, or at least enough that I couldn't see giving this biography five or four stars.
April 26, 2016
Of all historic topics, ancient history holds my interest the least. The things I know about the ancient world could fit comfortably in the chest pocket of a pair of overalls. They also fit comfortably in my head, along with all the other neat stuff I got going on in there.
Most of what I know about Rome I learned from the movies. Thanks to Stanley Kubrick, I know that Kirk Douglas led a slave revolt that nearly toppled Laurence Olivier. But he was crucified along with all his men, and only Jean Simmons (not that Gene Simmons) survived. I also know that Gladiator defeated Joaquin Phoenix with the help of Amistad's Djimon Honsou. There ends most of my knowledge of the glory that was Rome.
The books I have read about Roman history are mostly told from the point of view of Rome's enemies. Thus, I've read about Spartacus and his slave revolt, and about Hannibal crossing the Alps and winning his stunning victory at Cannae. These are the kinds of stories that appeal, I suppose, to most red-blooded Americans: the story of a rag-tag band of freedom-fighters attempting to defeat a colonial oppressor. (In other words, those stories remind us a little bit of us).
Adrienne Mayor's The Poison King takes as its subject King Mithradates, another in a long line of thorns in the side of the Roman Empire. He was King of Pontus - a Hellenistic state on the southern coast of the Black Sea - and ruled from 119 BC to 63 BC. He claimed to have descended from Alexander the Great, fought a number of wars against Rome, tried to create a universal antidote to poison, and eventually committed suicide upon his ultimate defeat. His great distinction, as far as I can tell, is in having a kickass nickname.
Unfortunately, this was not the book to start my potential lifelong passion for ancient history. Despite some laudatory reviews, I was disappointed with The Poison King.
Part of this, I admit, stems from my sneaking suspicion that we just don't know what the heck happened back in those days before Christ. So much of our knowledge is based on the kind of hearsay that would be laughed out of any court in the land; even a court comprised entirely of kangaroos; even if those kangaroos were wearing wigs and black robes. Time and again when you read about these olden times, you discover that the source is a person who wrote down something based on what someone else wrote down based on what someone else wrote down. In other words, we don't really know who the direct eyewitness was to these events, or if one even exists. Maybe Thucydides was duped by an Anatolian prankster who concocted the tales of the Mithridatic Wars after a hot afternoon of wine-drinking and sheep-licking.
Adrienne Mayor is aware of these gaps, and she tries to stuff them with other evidence, such as the inscriptions on old statues, or the engraving on old coins. When that fails, though, she is left to her suppositions. These suppositions make up the bulk of the book. During the narrative sections, there are a lot of modifiers to the language. Since Mayor doesn't know what Mithradates was doing during most of his life, she simply guesses. Accordingly, you see a lot of phrases that cause historians to shudder, such as "may have", "one senses", "we can assume" and - this is the worst - "almost certainly."
Now, I’m all for educated guesses. At times, in history, it’s all we have. And certainly, Mayor is well-educated. She is entitled to make these guesses; she is even entitled to make things up, as long as she provides full disclosure that she is making stuff up (at the end of the book, for instance, when she posits out of thin air that Mithradates might have escaped death and may still be living in Hoboken, she makes sure to let you know it’s speculation).
The problem is that the structure of The Poison King is shoddy. The book starts with a massacre of Roman citizens in 88 BC that may have been orchestrated by Mithradates, goes back in time to cover the uncertain time-period of his birth and early life, and lurches forward with a gap-ridden description of his rise to power. (His father was murdered, possibly by his mother, and Mithradates was exiled; he later returned to murder his mother and take the throne). The known-history and the reasonably-guessed-at-history do not fit together well. The transitions between straightforward narrative, where the author is telling a story, and analysis, where the author attempts to weigh evidence, are jarring and often involved long, meaningless digressions that tended to trail away from the book’s substance. The result is book that seems mostly filler, like bread made of flour and sawdust.
I sensed a lot of padding in The Poison King. This wasn’t helped by Mayor’s constant repetition of potential ingredients for Mithradates’ legendary universal antidote, or her constant listing of all the types of poisons that Mithradates might have used (Mayor is a scholar of ancient science, so poison is a specialty of hers. I’d sure like to be invited to one of her cocktail parties…but I probably won’t be, now). She is obsessed with the notion of poisoning, and does not pass up the opportunity to speculate on how Mithradates killed his scheming mother:
This excerpt, which is admittedly interesting, encapsulates what I didn’t like about The Poison King, with the uncomfortable segues between known facts and speculation, and the way Mayor attempts to mount a present-tense narrative onto this shaky foundation.
The difficulty in any biography is capturing the essence of a human life with the written word. Even biographers with unfettered access to a subject’s papers, diaries, and the subject himself struggle to translate a person onto paper. Mayor has a tougher task, since a couple thousand years separate her from the bearded whack-job she decided to write about.
Still, she doesn’t really try to overcome this hurdle. We never really learn anything about the man: what he thought, or felt, or believed. The only thing Mayor tells us is that Mithradates spent a lot of time poisoning himself in small doses, sort of like Westley from The Princess Bride. Here, I can only speculate that he was preparing to beat Pompey in a battle of wits, much as Westley defeated Vizzini.
The Poison King’s major failing, however, is that it failed to prove its own subtitle: that Mithradates really was Rome’s deadliest enemy. Mayor neglects to prove that Mithradates was a great general, an inspiring leader, a threat to the Roman republic. I mean, you’ve called him Rome’s deadliest enemy! That’s a big claim. Deadlier than Hannibal, who crossed the Alps and invaded Italy proper? Hannibal, whose double envelopment at Cannae is still drooled over by military professionals?
When Mayor steps away from listing poisons long enough to describe a few battles, they are all crushing defeats. Mithradates, you see, got his butt kicked by three – count ‘em – Roman generals: Sulla, Lucullus, and Pompey the Great. He lost his kingdom, lost his armies, and resorted to mercy-killing his remaining family. Mayor even admits that Mithradates’ “plan” to invade Italy was chimerical. He never took the first step towards actually threatening Rome’s existence. In other words, he was a lot of talk and a beard.
This is, simply put, a weird book. It was clunky, scattershot, and surprisingly slow-moving for a story that includes a prisoner executed by having molten gold poured down his throat. (Probably where George R.R. Martin got that scene for A Game of Thrones!) There is an entire chapter speculating that its subject actually survived his own death. At one point, Mayor even includes a screenshot from a videogame to illustrate the concept of sea warfare. By the last page, I was not convinced that Mithradates was ever a big a danger to Rome as slow GDP growth, laziness or Silvio Berlusconi.
UPDATE: I've discovered that ancient history fans are among the most persistent trolls on the internet. I didn't like your book. Get over it. If you want to discuss the merits of the book, let's discuss. If you want to tell me to shut up, let me save you the time: I won't.
Most of what I know about Rome I learned from the movies. Thanks to Stanley Kubrick, I know that Kirk Douglas led a slave revolt that nearly toppled Laurence Olivier. But he was crucified along with all his men, and only Jean Simmons (not that Gene Simmons) survived. I also know that Gladiator defeated Joaquin Phoenix with the help of Amistad's Djimon Honsou. There ends most of my knowledge of the glory that was Rome.
The books I have read about Roman history are mostly told from the point of view of Rome's enemies. Thus, I've read about Spartacus and his slave revolt, and about Hannibal crossing the Alps and winning his stunning victory at Cannae. These are the kinds of stories that appeal, I suppose, to most red-blooded Americans: the story of a rag-tag band of freedom-fighters attempting to defeat a colonial oppressor. (In other words, those stories remind us a little bit of us).
Adrienne Mayor's The Poison King takes as its subject King Mithradates, another in a long line of thorns in the side of the Roman Empire. He was King of Pontus - a Hellenistic state on the southern coast of the Black Sea - and ruled from 119 BC to 63 BC. He claimed to have descended from Alexander the Great, fought a number of wars against Rome, tried to create a universal antidote to poison, and eventually committed suicide upon his ultimate defeat. His great distinction, as far as I can tell, is in having a kickass nickname.
Unfortunately, this was not the book to start my potential lifelong passion for ancient history. Despite some laudatory reviews, I was disappointed with The Poison King.
Part of this, I admit, stems from my sneaking suspicion that we just don't know what the heck happened back in those days before Christ. So much of our knowledge is based on the kind of hearsay that would be laughed out of any court in the land; even a court comprised entirely of kangaroos; even if those kangaroos were wearing wigs and black robes. Time and again when you read about these olden times, you discover that the source is a person who wrote down something based on what someone else wrote down based on what someone else wrote down. In other words, we don't really know who the direct eyewitness was to these events, or if one even exists. Maybe Thucydides was duped by an Anatolian prankster who concocted the tales of the Mithridatic Wars after a hot afternoon of wine-drinking and sheep-licking.
Adrienne Mayor is aware of these gaps, and she tries to stuff them with other evidence, such as the inscriptions on old statues, or the engraving on old coins. When that fails, though, she is left to her suppositions. These suppositions make up the bulk of the book. During the narrative sections, there are a lot of modifiers to the language. Since Mayor doesn't know what Mithradates was doing during most of his life, she simply guesses. Accordingly, you see a lot of phrases that cause historians to shudder, such as "may have", "one senses", "we can assume" and - this is the worst - "almost certainly."
Now, I’m all for educated guesses. At times, in history, it’s all we have. And certainly, Mayor is well-educated. She is entitled to make these guesses; she is even entitled to make things up, as long as she provides full disclosure that she is making stuff up (at the end of the book, for instance, when she posits out of thin air that Mithradates might have escaped death and may still be living in Hoboken, she makes sure to let you know it’s speculation).
The problem is that the structure of The Poison King is shoddy. The book starts with a massacre of Roman citizens in 88 BC that may have been orchestrated by Mithradates, goes back in time to cover the uncertain time-period of his birth and early life, and lurches forward with a gap-ridden description of his rise to power. (His father was murdered, possibly by his mother, and Mithradates was exiled; he later returned to murder his mother and take the throne). The known-history and the reasonably-guessed-at-history do not fit together well. The transitions between straightforward narrative, where the author is telling a story, and analysis, where the author attempts to weigh evidence, are jarring and often involved long, meaningless digressions that tended to trail away from the book’s substance. The result is book that seems mostly filler, like bread made of flour and sawdust.
I sensed a lot of padding in The Poison King. This wasn’t helped by Mayor’s constant repetition of potential ingredients for Mithradates’ legendary universal antidote, or her constant listing of all the types of poisons that Mithradates might have used (Mayor is a scholar of ancient science, so poison is a specialty of hers. I’d sure like to be invited to one of her cocktail parties…but I probably won’t be, now). She is obsessed with the notion of poisoning, and does not pass up the opportunity to speculate on how Mithradates killed his scheming mother:
Arsenic…was almost certainly the secret ingredient. Colorless, odorless, flavorless, arsenic could be added to any drink or dish. Mithradates knew that just sixty parts per million, or less than a tenth of an ounce, would be deadly in a goblet of rose-perfumed water or red wine…Mithradates, recalling the paradox of poisonous honey, savors the irony of creating a bittersweet treat. He stirs the arsenic powder into a pot of honey and drizzles it over the syrupy-sweet cakes…After dessert, the guests withdraw to admire the sunset. Within half an hour, the queen and her son sense a faint, metallic taste on their tongues. Beads of sweat glisten on their clammy brows as they become aware of impending nausea and stomach cramps. Saliva fills their mouths, but it is impossible to swallow. Their eyes take on an uncanny reddish sparkle. Suddenly the royal pair begin clawing at their throats, drooling and moaning. After an hour or so of vomiting and diarrhea, Mithradates’ mother and his only rival are writhing in convulsions…By midnight, both are dead.
This excerpt, which is admittedly interesting, encapsulates what I didn’t like about The Poison King, with the uncomfortable segues between known facts and speculation, and the way Mayor attempts to mount a present-tense narrative onto this shaky foundation.
The difficulty in any biography is capturing the essence of a human life with the written word. Even biographers with unfettered access to a subject’s papers, diaries, and the subject himself struggle to translate a person onto paper. Mayor has a tougher task, since a couple thousand years separate her from the bearded whack-job she decided to write about.
Still, she doesn’t really try to overcome this hurdle. We never really learn anything about the man: what he thought, or felt, or believed. The only thing Mayor tells us is that Mithradates spent a lot of time poisoning himself in small doses, sort of like Westley from The Princess Bride. Here, I can only speculate that he was preparing to beat Pompey in a battle of wits, much as Westley defeated Vizzini.
The Poison King’s major failing, however, is that it failed to prove its own subtitle: that Mithradates really was Rome’s deadliest enemy. Mayor neglects to prove that Mithradates was a great general, an inspiring leader, a threat to the Roman republic. I mean, you’ve called him Rome’s deadliest enemy! That’s a big claim. Deadlier than Hannibal, who crossed the Alps and invaded Italy proper? Hannibal, whose double envelopment at Cannae is still drooled over by military professionals?
When Mayor steps away from listing poisons long enough to describe a few battles, they are all crushing defeats. Mithradates, you see, got his butt kicked by three – count ‘em – Roman generals: Sulla, Lucullus, and Pompey the Great. He lost his kingdom, lost his armies, and resorted to mercy-killing his remaining family. Mayor even admits that Mithradates’ “plan” to invade Italy was chimerical. He never took the first step towards actually threatening Rome’s existence. In other words, he was a lot of talk and a beard.
This is, simply put, a weird book. It was clunky, scattershot, and surprisingly slow-moving for a story that includes a prisoner executed by having molten gold poured down his throat. (Probably where George R.R. Martin got that scene for A Game of Thrones!) There is an entire chapter speculating that its subject actually survived his own death. At one point, Mayor even includes a screenshot from a videogame to illustrate the concept of sea warfare. By the last page, I was not convinced that Mithradates was ever a big a danger to Rome as slow GDP growth, laziness or Silvio Berlusconi.
UPDATE: I've discovered that ancient history fans are among the most persistent trolls on the internet. I didn't like your book. Get over it. If you want to discuss the merits of the book, let's discuss. If you want to tell me to shut up, let me save you the time: I won't.
April 11, 2011
When Adrienne Mayor remains within the limits of her sources (both literary and archaeological), The Poison King is a solid, readable biography of a now little-known figure of the Ancient world. Unfortunately, she allows herself some wild flights of fancy better suited for a historical novel and neglects any serious analysis of the reign of Mithradates VI of Pontus, the last serious foe of Roman hegemony in what would become the eastern half of the empire.
And it is a fascinating story without need for embellishments: In 88 BC, Mithradates directly controlled or dominated much of what would become provinces of the Roman Empire except for Egypt, and could even claim to have overawed the Scythians and Sarmatians – horse nomads who had cowed both Cyrus of Persia and Alexander of Macedon.
By contrast, the late Roman Republic was a failed state. Its constitution – admired throughout the civilized world – had fallen prey to the private interests of men like Marius and Sulla and a host of lesser satellites like Pompey and Lucullus, causing endemic civil war. Roman tax collectors and financiers plundered the East, and its populations were restive under Rome’s yoke. In Spain, Sertorius would soon be raising a revolt; in Africa, Marius and Sulla had recently put down Jugurtha; and in Italy, the Social War had finally been brought to a close. There appeared to be no better time for a successor to Alexander to overthrow the Roman tyrants.
Mithradates was that man, if anyone was. He was born around 134 BC to parents who could trace their lines back to Cyrus and Alexander. Around 120 BC, Mithradates’ mother poisoned his father (her husband) and assumed a regency for both him and his younger (favored) brother (helpfully named Mithradates as well). Sometime before 113, Mithradates removed his mother and her favorite and assumed full control over Pontus. In the mid-90s, he became involved in a war with Nicomedes of Bithynia, in which Rome interfered (on Nicomedes’ behalf) and which thoroughly and permanently soured relations between Pontus and Rome. By 88, the energetic Pontine king had forged a kingdom and alliances that threatened Rome’s stranglehold over the East and he felt confident enough to take on the Republic. True to form, it was Roman rapacity that provided a proximate cause to justify the First Mithradatic War. Manius Aquillius led an illegal (i.e., unsanctioned by the Senate) invasion of Pontus, which was routed, in 89. The next year, between 80,000 and 150,000 Roman and Italian citizens and colonists were ruthlessly massacred – men, women, children – and Mithradates’ armies launched an invasion of Greece. It was a near thing for Rome – Sulla’s and Lucullus’ legions escaped defeat by the narrowest of margins and a certain amount of luck. And for the next twenty-plus years, until Mithradates’ death in 63, he and Rome were locked in a near-continuous struggle for control of the East.
As I mentioned, when Mayor sticks to sources she presents a readable account of this interesting period and man. The only caveat I would apply is that readers do need a fairly good knowledge of the period to follow what’s going on. There are a lot of names and events that are introduced with the assumption that you know who and what she’s talking about. It’s not a fatal flaw but it could limit a reader’s enjoyment and understanding.
And I was disappointed that she didn��t explore the reasons behind Mithradates’ failure to establish a viable state in answer to Roman expansion. He had the intelligence, the energy and the resources to do so. Instead she indulges fanciful flights of imagining what Mithradates was thinking on the night he escaped his mother’s (possibly) murderous intentions. It’s not as if she isn’t capable of intelligent and meaningful speculation. Using the literature and examining the geography of the Caucasus, Mayor comes to a solid and reasonable itinerary for Mithradates’ flight to the Crimea after Pompey had surprised and defeated his army in eastern Anatolia.
Another good thing about the book is Mayor’s analysis of the Ancients’ knowledge of biology – especially plants – and its use in politics and war, building upon her previous research presented in Greek Fire Poison Arrow And Scorpion Bombs (Mithradates was known as “The Poison King” because of his lifelong interest in poisons, antidotes and his investigations in those areas.)
Recommended with reservations.
In an aside: The Poison King contains the usual photos, primarily coinage, ancient sites, and Medieval and Renaissance paintings but Mayor also uses screenshots from 21st century videogames:
At first the old-school curmudgeon in me felt irked but upon reflection I don’t see why this is any different from using a Renaissance scene that’s as close to the reality as the computer image. The computer image probably has fewer anachronisms as we live in an era that likes verisimilitude.
And it is a fascinating story without need for embellishments: In 88 BC, Mithradates directly controlled or dominated much of what would become provinces of the Roman Empire except for Egypt, and could even claim to have overawed the Scythians and Sarmatians – horse nomads who had cowed both Cyrus of Persia and Alexander of Macedon.
By contrast, the late Roman Republic was a failed state. Its constitution – admired throughout the civilized world – had fallen prey to the private interests of men like Marius and Sulla and a host of lesser satellites like Pompey and Lucullus, causing endemic civil war. Roman tax collectors and financiers plundered the East, and its populations were restive under Rome’s yoke. In Spain, Sertorius would soon be raising a revolt; in Africa, Marius and Sulla had recently put down Jugurtha; and in Italy, the Social War had finally been brought to a close. There appeared to be no better time for a successor to Alexander to overthrow the Roman tyrants.
Mithradates was that man, if anyone was. He was born around 134 BC to parents who could trace their lines back to Cyrus and Alexander. Around 120 BC, Mithradates’ mother poisoned his father (her husband) and assumed a regency for both him and his younger (favored) brother (helpfully named Mithradates as well). Sometime before 113, Mithradates removed his mother and her favorite and assumed full control over Pontus. In the mid-90s, he became involved in a war with Nicomedes of Bithynia, in which Rome interfered (on Nicomedes’ behalf) and which thoroughly and permanently soured relations between Pontus and Rome. By 88, the energetic Pontine king had forged a kingdom and alliances that threatened Rome’s stranglehold over the East and he felt confident enough to take on the Republic. True to form, it was Roman rapacity that provided a proximate cause to justify the First Mithradatic War. Manius Aquillius led an illegal (i.e., unsanctioned by the Senate) invasion of Pontus, which was routed, in 89. The next year, between 80,000 and 150,000 Roman and Italian citizens and colonists were ruthlessly massacred – men, women, children – and Mithradates’ armies launched an invasion of Greece. It was a near thing for Rome – Sulla’s and Lucullus’ legions escaped defeat by the narrowest of margins and a certain amount of luck. And for the next twenty-plus years, until Mithradates’ death in 63, he and Rome were locked in a near-continuous struggle for control of the East.
As I mentioned, when Mayor sticks to sources she presents a readable account of this interesting period and man. The only caveat I would apply is that readers do need a fairly good knowledge of the period to follow what’s going on. There are a lot of names and events that are introduced with the assumption that you know who and what she’s talking about. It’s not a fatal flaw but it could limit a reader’s enjoyment and understanding.
And I was disappointed that she didn��t explore the reasons behind Mithradates’ failure to establish a viable state in answer to Roman expansion. He had the intelligence, the energy and the resources to do so. Instead she indulges fanciful flights of imagining what Mithradates was thinking on the night he escaped his mother’s (possibly) murderous intentions. It’s not as if she isn’t capable of intelligent and meaningful speculation. Using the literature and examining the geography of the Caucasus, Mayor comes to a solid and reasonable itinerary for Mithradates’ flight to the Crimea after Pompey had surprised and defeated his army in eastern Anatolia.
Another good thing about the book is Mayor’s analysis of the Ancients’ knowledge of biology – especially plants – and its use in politics and war, building upon her previous research presented in Greek Fire Poison Arrow And Scorpion Bombs (Mithradates was known as “The Poison King” because of his lifelong interest in poisons, antidotes and his investigations in those areas.)
Recommended with reservations.
In an aside: The Poison King contains the usual photos, primarily coinage, ancient sites, and Medieval and Renaissance paintings but Mayor also uses screenshots from 21st century videogames:
At first the old-school curmudgeon in me felt irked but upon reflection I don’t see why this is any different from using a Renaissance scene that’s as close to the reality as the computer image. The computer image probably has fewer anachronisms as we live in an era that likes verisimilitude.
June 2, 2022
The way history should be written for the average reader! For those who love ancient history, this is a thrilling read that often feels more like historical fiction than biography. Indeed, some criticize the author for giving her own educated guesses when their are gaps in the historical record of Mithradates' life. But even her thoughts on such subjects are based on other historical facts and well presented. The academic specialist in ancient Greco-Roman history will not likely enjoy this book due to the above mentioned issues. But I certainly did.
December 18, 2014
There are very few books on Mithridates, and even fewer dedicated biograpies; in fact, The Poison King is the only one written in over a century, which was part of the reason I was so excited to read it. Unfortunately, the book failed to contribute too much more to the literature of the ancient Near-East; this might not have disappointed me too much, except for the length of the book, which was not brimming with unique historical insights but instead brimming with Adrienne Mayor's Mithradates fangirl speculations and musings. Don't get me wrong, as Mayor obviously put in a lot of historical research and the actual historical analysis that is in the book is perfectly fine; the disappointing part was that huge swathes of the book were not actually historical analysis or often even exposition.
Mithridates VI, was the king of Pontus (a little kingdom in what is today Northern Turkey) during the final expansions of the Roman Republic, and built Pontus into a Near-East powerhouse with the intent of challenging Rome's growing power. Unlike many of Rome's other famous enemies Mithradates actually represented a very real threat to Roman power, and The Roman Republic's only serious rival in the Mediterranean. The allure of course, is that much of Mithridates's character is behind the veil of fiction and propaganda; as the title The Poison King suggests, Mithridates had a history with experimentation with poisons (and searching for antidotes).
Adriennne Mayor's book however, seems to represent Mayor's own struggle between recognizing fact and being drawn towards legend; The Poison King almost feels like two books blended together in one: the first being a well researched and clear historical monograph from a rare non-Roman perspective, the second being a historical fiction novel that Mayor desperately wants to be true.
Again, don't get me wrong, Adrienne Mayor is not trying to pass off fiction as fact in the book (at least, not intentionally); she notifies the reader of fact-fiction discontinuities by prefacing sections with "One can imagine Mithradates riding on his horse and [saying X to his friend Y]...." She does, however, occasionally rush through the disclaimer and if the reader is not paying attention it may seem like she is presenting her imagination as historical fact. This either angers history purists who think shame on her for presenting speculation as history, or this leads people who don't know any better to think she may be actually presenting history. I personally don't think she is trying to misrepresent fact, nor do I think she is intentionally trying to allow her own imagination to take over her book. However, I do think she often runs the danger of both of those things throughout much of this book, and it makes the book less clear than it should be.
She chose to present Mithradates (or Mithridates) because, frankly, he's simply a very interesting character. He's one of my favorite ancient figures up there along with Alcibiades. However, Mayor's own personal admiration for Mithradates gets in the way of her writing a professional expository non-fiction. This issue is perhaps even compounded by the fact that she is actually a very good fiction writer! Her little musings and tangent-style speculations about the personal life of Mithridates actually makes for engaging reading; I just really wish she would have put those into a historical fiction novel. It would have made for an engaging yarn.
I've read some of Adrienne Mayor's other work and articles she's written, and I know she is capable of good historical work; however, she does seem to occasionally have the problem of getting carried away with the story aspect of history, rather than the evidence and interpretation aspect of history. Time for my own biases to come forth now (Again, my biases. Meaning, what I'm about to say will likely be unfair, possibly narrow-minded, and not based upon observable evidence): Adrienne Mayor is employed by Stanford as a research scholar. Yet, as far as I know she holds no graduate degree in anything, let alone the field she is studying. Assuming that is true, Stanford is obviously okay with that fact; however, I can't help but wonder if going through the dissertation process would be a big help to Mrs. Mayor. Being constantly challenged by peers and mentors, having to defend propositions in an open forum, painstakingly making sure each fact is backed up with evidence, each reference properly cited... though it may be a pain when going through the academic process it instills certain methodological practices that are good for overall scholarly thought. Having to publish papers through a peer review process might work out some of the criticisms a popular audience book like this faces.
Adrienne Mayor's book is the first biography of Mithradates in over a century; is it because there is so much more new information we know now that has been recently discovered and allows a publication of this book now? Was Adrienne Mayor simply the first write it?... Or, is it because what little we do know of Mithradates is so wrapped up in propaganda and legend that the attempt to write a historical biography of him never passed the publication standards of other historians?
Mithridates VI, was the king of Pontus (a little kingdom in what is today Northern Turkey) during the final expansions of the Roman Republic, and built Pontus into a Near-East powerhouse with the intent of challenging Rome's growing power. Unlike many of Rome's other famous enemies Mithradates actually represented a very real threat to Roman power, and The Roman Republic's only serious rival in the Mediterranean. The allure of course, is that much of Mithridates's character is behind the veil of fiction and propaganda; as the title The Poison King suggests, Mithridates had a history with experimentation with poisons (and searching for antidotes).
Adriennne Mayor's book however, seems to represent Mayor's own struggle between recognizing fact and being drawn towards legend; The Poison King almost feels like two books blended together in one: the first being a well researched and clear historical monograph from a rare non-Roman perspective, the second being a historical fiction novel that Mayor desperately wants to be true.
Again, don't get me wrong, Adrienne Mayor is not trying to pass off fiction as fact in the book (at least, not intentionally); she notifies the reader of fact-fiction discontinuities by prefacing sections with "One can imagine Mithradates riding on his horse and [saying X to his friend Y]...." She does, however, occasionally rush through the disclaimer and if the reader is not paying attention it may seem like she is presenting her imagination as historical fact. This either angers history purists who think shame on her for presenting speculation as history, or this leads people who don't know any better to think she may be actually presenting history. I personally don't think she is trying to misrepresent fact, nor do I think she is intentionally trying to allow her own imagination to take over her book. However, I do think she often runs the danger of both of those things throughout much of this book, and it makes the book less clear than it should be.
She chose to present Mithradates (or Mithridates) because, frankly, he's simply a very interesting character. He's one of my favorite ancient figures up there along with Alcibiades. However, Mayor's own personal admiration for Mithradates gets in the way of her writing a professional expository non-fiction. This issue is perhaps even compounded by the fact that she is actually a very good fiction writer! Her little musings and tangent-style speculations about the personal life of Mithridates actually makes for engaging reading; I just really wish she would have put those into a historical fiction novel. It would have made for an engaging yarn.
I've read some of Adrienne Mayor's other work and articles she's written, and I know she is capable of good historical work; however, she does seem to occasionally have the problem of getting carried away with the story aspect of history, rather than the evidence and interpretation aspect of history. Time for my own biases to come forth now (Again, my biases. Meaning, what I'm about to say will likely be unfair, possibly narrow-minded, and not based upon observable evidence): Adrienne Mayor is employed by Stanford as a research scholar. Yet, as far as I know she holds no graduate degree in anything, let alone the field she is studying. Assuming that is true, Stanford is obviously okay with that fact; however, I can't help but wonder if going through the dissertation process would be a big help to Mrs. Mayor. Being constantly challenged by peers and mentors, having to defend propositions in an open forum, painstakingly making sure each fact is backed up with evidence, each reference properly cited... though it may be a pain when going through the academic process it instills certain methodological practices that are good for overall scholarly thought. Having to publish papers through a peer review process might work out some of the criticisms a popular audience book like this faces.
Adrienne Mayor's book is the first biography of Mithradates in over a century; is it because there is so much more new information we know now that has been recently discovered and allows a publication of this book now? Was Adrienne Mayor simply the first write it?... Or, is it because what little we do know of Mithradates is so wrapped up in propaganda and legend that the attempt to write a historical biography of him never passed the publication standards of other historians?
March 19, 2023
ROYALTY PROJECT READ
August 16, 2015
Very complete, detailed and readable biography of Mithradates, King of Pontus, during the time of the Roman Republic. The book covers from his boyhood until his death in his 70s, still a fighter till the last. Raised among court intrigue: Persian and Greek, he early on began a lifelong study of poisons and their antidotes, testing them on criminals and each day of his life ingesting a bit, to render himself immune to their effects. He supposedly came up with a theriac [also called Mithridatium], a universal antidote; the formula for that has been lost. So far there has been no comprehensive biography of this man who led an amazing life: expansion from Pontus into a Black Sea Empire, and three wars attempting to ward off Romans and subjugation to them. Successful at first against Aquillius, Sulla and Lucullus, he finally succumbed to Pompey. His life was a series of highs and lows, victories and defeats, betrayals and loyalties. Cicero called him "the greatest king since Alexander." I could not believe the extent of his vengeance against people from the Italian peninsula in Asia Minor in 88 BC: fully 80,000 people were slaughtered, as revenge against corruption of tax system and ruthlessness of Romans. The man was also a lover of the arts and a polyglot, so he was not ONLY a warrior.
My only quibble was the amount of speculation: "perhaps", "it could have been this way....", "maybe". But this work seemed well researched as far as it went, with incomplete primary sources. All in all, a fascinating dip into history of the late Roman Republic.
My only quibble was the amount of speculation: "perhaps", "it could have been this way....", "maybe". But this work seemed well researched as far as it went, with incomplete primary sources. All in all, a fascinating dip into history of the late Roman Republic.
June 4, 2014
What is this book? its not a history book, its not a fiction book its some sort of speculative mishmash of the both, i actually became quite irritated by the "lets imagine what could have happened" "this probably happened" "some think this was what happened" "Mithridates probably did this" my god it was like reading the ramblings of a 5 year old making it up as they go-along,
The book just keeps rehashing the same crap over and over, Mithridates was the scourge of Rome, the new Hannibal, a proud descendant of Cyrus & Alexander but then goes onto describe how in almost every encounter against the Romans he got his ass kicked though his armies and Navies vastly outnumbering them, not because the Romans were better but because the Goddesses didn't like him?
I really don't know what point the author was trying to make with this book, for all the repetitive babble Mithridates was really nothing more than a somewhat interesting character on the fringes of the Roman World, hardly the New Alexander that the author seems to imply, Romes deadliest enemy? more a sneaky opportunist trying to take advantage of a distracted Roman world from what facts i can ascertain from all the "What ifs?" that are in reality the core of this intellectually dishonest piece of crap
The book just keeps rehashing the same crap over and over, Mithridates was the scourge of Rome, the new Hannibal, a proud descendant of Cyrus & Alexander but then goes onto describe how in almost every encounter against the Romans he got his ass kicked though his armies and Navies vastly outnumbering them, not because the Romans were better but because the Goddesses didn't like him?
I really don't know what point the author was trying to make with this book, for all the repetitive babble Mithridates was really nothing more than a somewhat interesting character on the fringes of the Roman World, hardly the New Alexander that the author seems to imply, Romes deadliest enemy? more a sneaky opportunist trying to take advantage of a distracted Roman world from what facts i can ascertain from all the "What ifs?" that are in reality the core of this intellectually dishonest piece of crap
September 8, 2020
An insight on Romans impact on Eastern world -Mithradates
An awesome read. Couldn’t give 5 stars because of the speculations but don’t blame Author for the same as lack of records. An Amazing account on life of Mithradates and impact of Roman Empire on eastern world . At the end of day Individuals ( Roman Generals ) scummed to power, greed and fame. A very detailed account on life of Mithradates the Poison King.
An awesome read. Couldn’t give 5 stars because of the speculations but don’t blame Author for the same as lack of records. An Amazing account on life of Mithradates and impact of Roman Empire on eastern world . At the end of day Individuals ( Roman Generals ) scummed to power, greed and fame. A very detailed account on life of Mithradates the Poison King.
April 29, 2021
Fascinating biography on an underappreciated historical figure. Highly recommended to anyone who takes an interest in ancient history.
January 1, 2023
Borrow.
If you strip away the author's speculation on the early life of Mithradates and the quite unnecessary "What If?" postscript then this is a welcome and informative account of an incredibly important ancient figure.
I would definitely recommend this book, but parts, including the author's occasional use of the first person, can be a little hard to ingest for serious historians. Nonetheless, I think it is a valuable contribution.
If you strip away the author's speculation on the early life of Mithradates and the quite unnecessary "What If?" postscript then this is a welcome and informative account of an incredibly important ancient figure.
I would definitely recommend this book, but parts, including the author's occasional use of the first person, can be a little hard to ingest for serious historians. Nonetheless, I think it is a valuable contribution.
May 25, 2011
"Beavers abound in Armenia's lakes and streams - perhaps their testicles contributed to Mithradates' celebrated vigor."
There is something about that quote that sums up the Poison King for me and emblematic of the my feelings towards the book. You might think that quote makes more sense in context, but it really doesn't. The context is that Mayor is trying to fill the gap in our sources and hypothesizing what Mithradetes' did for two years in Armenia while on the run from Rome. Her answer: military drills and sex (a lot of each), with a little hunting and poison research thrown in.
In general, I liked the book. It was well-written and covered a subject too often left on the sidelines of Rome's civil wars of the 1st century BC. However, every time I would start to get sucked in, I would quickly get frustrated by the narrative methodology of the book. Mayor uses techniques to "flesh out" missing details of the historical record with "what-if" scenarios and hypotheticals. Maybe I am just not used to those techniques, but they drove me nuts for a couple of reasons.
First, it leads to situations like the above where there are actually hypothetical scenarios to hypothetical scenarios to hypothetical scenarios that, in the end, seem twisted to the original point and unnecessary. Does the postulation that perhaps Mithradates ate beaver testicles while hypothetically visiting temples of love in Armenia really give much insight into Mithradates? I would say not
The second issue was that it led to some odd narrative choices. There are whole chapters devoted to hypotheticals, let I found myself lost in some of the main threads of the Mithradatic Wars. I still can't, with any confidence, define the beginning or end of the Second Mithradatic War. I am assuming there are gaps in the sources to skip over (at times) years of Mithradates life. But because she usually filled those in with hypotheticals and other times just left the narrative run, blithely skipping over the gaps. It led to confusion.
In the end, I would tepidly recommend the book. As I mentioned, the prose is nice and maybe my dislike of the narrative techniques used by Mayor are not universally shared. Be warned, however, that I was not able to answer a fundamental paradox raised by the book: Mithradates seemed to lose (badly) every battle he fought with Rome; Mithradates ranked with Hannibal on the list of enemies who terrified Rome.
May 12, 2013
I got sucked right into this story from the start, and finally, I got to find out what happened between two of Colleen McCullough's novels. There's war, love, poisoning, treachery, murder on a mass scale, and all sorts of things that make history fun. While the writing style is a bit light in spots, I found this to be a great read, and worth it to find. Those who enjoy history won't need any further urging to read this one, and it's one that I can happily recommend at all. Four stars overall.
For the longer review, please go here:
http://www.epinions.com/review/Adrien...
For the longer review, please go here:
http://www.epinions.com/review/Adrien...
August 19, 2023
2.5/5
History is a tale full of pomp, circumstance, and no small number of egotistical dipshits. At this point in my life, I've read enough to know both what I like and what is credible nonfictioning, and while it may be tempting to forsake the latter for the former, I prefer to hone a sensibility that views the two as inextricably intertwined. This particular work, despite ostensibly being centered thousands of years ago and thousands of miles away, is very much of its time and place: an obnoxiously US point of view that is all too casual with its methodology and all too obsessive about its country's more jingoistic views of the world outside its borders. Thus, what I got, I more often than not had to wrench out of flagrant fanfictioning and more than tidbit of farfetched reasoning, which made the times that Mayor was actually on track with her research and her observations all the harder to appreciate. As such, while one could argue that this treatment of the material made it easier to get through 400+ pages of material and endnotes, there really was no need for certain sentences or even entire sections save beyond fulfilling whatever authorial compulsion to fancifully conjecture spawned the writing in the first place. In any case, I was the first person to check out this book from my workplace since 2020, and if the community feels accordingly, it will get weeded sooner rather than later. There's also the bonus that I'm no longer curious about her other work (written four years before this one) that someone on the staff chose to acquire within the past couple of months. I don't mind getting through the occasional dud that has stayed on my TBR for a tad too long, but life's too short for too many author second chances.
History is a tale full of pomp, circumstance, and no small number of egotistical dipshits. At this point in my life, I've read enough to know both what I like and what is credible nonfictioning, and while it may be tempting to forsake the latter for the former, I prefer to hone a sensibility that views the two as inextricably intertwined. This particular work, despite ostensibly being centered thousands of years ago and thousands of miles away, is very much of its time and place: an obnoxiously US point of view that is all too casual with its methodology and all too obsessive about its country's more jingoistic views of the world outside its borders. Thus, what I got, I more often than not had to wrench out of flagrant fanfictioning and more than tidbit of farfetched reasoning, which made the times that Mayor was actually on track with her research and her observations all the harder to appreciate. As such, while one could argue that this treatment of the material made it easier to get through 400+ pages of material and endnotes, there really was no need for certain sentences or even entire sections save beyond fulfilling whatever authorial compulsion to fancifully conjecture spawned the writing in the first place. In any case, I was the first person to check out this book from my workplace since 2020, and if the community feels accordingly, it will get weeded sooner rather than later. There's also the bonus that I'm no longer curious about her other work (written four years before this one) that someone on the staff chose to acquire within the past couple of months. I don't mind getting through the occasional dud that has stayed on my TBR for a tad too long, but life's too short for too many author second chances.
June 28, 2022
If you were disappointed that Colleen McCullough's "First Man in Rome" series pretty much skimmed right over The Mithradatic War, this is the book for you. Really a nice, detailed and thoughful look into all three wars and life of Mithradates in general as well.
The Storm Clouds chapter appears to have a few problems. It mentions that the Pontic fleet was away at the north Black Sea, leading the Roman emissary to encourage Bithynia to raid the southern coast, which they do. But then we read that Pontus has sent the fleet to the north Black Sea. But the last thing we knew was that they were already there. Had they returned without our being told or was this remark anachronistic, in which case, why tell us?
We are also told that Rome, busy fighting the Social War, had only a single legion, usually considered to be about 5K men, in Asia Minor. But at the end of the chapter we are told suddenly that Aquillius commands 40K, Cassius another 40K and Oppius another 40K. Had these legions suddenly been shipped out? Maybe they were allied armies? There is no explanation, though it is mentioned that Nicomedes of Bithynia contributed 56K troops of his own in addition, so allies seem unlikely. Given that I believe Mithradates is about to defeat all these forces, I think it much more likely that the ancient source (Appian) was wrong in this case and it would have been appropriate to question these numbers. I would much rather have a realistic discussion than the painting of a false picture just to make a more exciting setup for the next chapter.
The chapter tells us how Mithradates cleverly manipulated the Romans into attacking him. I speculate the importance was that his alliances with other powers like Armenia and Parthia were defensive in nature, that is, would only trigger if he was attacked, and not the other way around. I suspect the author to be very smart and discerning, but it's a mistake to assume all the readers are as well. The book should tell us things like this rather than make us do all the work. Ideally the editor would have caught these issues as well. This is meant as constructive criticism for future works.
See "siege" spelled "seige". This is the second book in which I've seen this. The spelling of this word is a major hazard for histories apparently.
This book isn't about him, but it made me feel Sulla doesn't get enough credit for his abilities as a general. He really neatly solved a lot of knotty problems in the First Mithradatic War. Maybe if a certain member of the Julii hadn't come along he would be better known for this today.
The long lists in the book are somewhat boring. Lists of poisons. Lists of ingredients. Lists of jewels. Even worse, they are all clumped together. I also would have deferred the section on what happened to his things after he died to the end of the book. I think that would have served the story aspects better. But maybe that's just my taste.
Not too sure about the ancient reports of a meteorite strike just before a battle at Otryae. If it was really as large as a wine amphora, it seems there would have been quite a crater as well as effect on the armies, such as throwing up earth and so on. But in the accounts all that seems to happen is that they calmly inspect it. No crater is even mentioned. I would have liked to see more scientific commentary, perhaps from a geologist, on this reality of this. I would more likely suspect a trick by the tricky Mithradates and a catapult designed to allow him to escape fighting the battle that day.
Lucullus is another general who didn't and doesn't receive enough credit, either now or back then. His main drawback was that he lacked either the common touch or the inspirational words that would allow him to lead, like Alexander, or Caesar, his troops anywhere. Instead they constantly mutinied. The same kind of thing happened when he returned home. He lacked the ability to network so instead of receiving congratulations and power in return for all he had accomplished, all he got was jealousy. Not knowing how to counter it, he simply retired to his estates and allowed others to make up vicious rumors about him. This isn't made all that clear in the book, by the way, but then the book is a little hazy on events in Rome. Recommend using other books as supplements for this.
The book includes a photo of a white Mt. Kazbek (in the Caucasus), which the book describes a perpetually mantled in snow. Apparently not so anymore. A 2019 photo on the web indicates almost no snow at all.
The theories on Hypsicrates are rather fascinating.
The appendix on the legacy of Mithradates in the arts is superb!
The Storm Clouds chapter appears to have a few problems. It mentions that the Pontic fleet was away at the north Black Sea, leading the Roman emissary to encourage Bithynia to raid the southern coast, which they do. But then we read that Pontus has sent the fleet to the north Black Sea. But the last thing we knew was that they were already there. Had they returned without our being told or was this remark anachronistic, in which case, why tell us?
We are also told that Rome, busy fighting the Social War, had only a single legion, usually considered to be about 5K men, in Asia Minor. But at the end of the chapter we are told suddenly that Aquillius commands 40K, Cassius another 40K and Oppius another 40K. Had these legions suddenly been shipped out? Maybe they were allied armies? There is no explanation, though it is mentioned that Nicomedes of Bithynia contributed 56K troops of his own in addition, so allies seem unlikely. Given that I believe Mithradates is about to defeat all these forces, I think it much more likely that the ancient source (Appian) was wrong in this case and it would have been appropriate to question these numbers. I would much rather have a realistic discussion than the painting of a false picture just to make a more exciting setup for the next chapter.
The chapter tells us how Mithradates cleverly manipulated the Romans into attacking him. I speculate the importance was that his alliances with other powers like Armenia and Parthia were defensive in nature, that is, would only trigger if he was attacked, and not the other way around. I suspect the author to be very smart and discerning, but it's a mistake to assume all the readers are as well. The book should tell us things like this rather than make us do all the work. Ideally the editor would have caught these issues as well. This is meant as constructive criticism for future works.
See "siege" spelled "seige". This is the second book in which I've seen this. The spelling of this word is a major hazard for histories apparently.
This book isn't about him, but it made me feel Sulla doesn't get enough credit for his abilities as a general. He really neatly solved a lot of knotty problems in the First Mithradatic War. Maybe if a certain member of the Julii hadn't come along he would be better known for this today.
The long lists in the book are somewhat boring. Lists of poisons. Lists of ingredients. Lists of jewels. Even worse, they are all clumped together. I also would have deferred the section on what happened to his things after he died to the end of the book. I think that would have served the story aspects better. But maybe that's just my taste.
Not too sure about the ancient reports of a meteorite strike just before a battle at Otryae. If it was really as large as a wine amphora, it seems there would have been quite a crater as well as effect on the armies, such as throwing up earth and so on. But in the accounts all that seems to happen is that they calmly inspect it. No crater is even mentioned. I would have liked to see more scientific commentary, perhaps from a geologist, on this reality of this. I would more likely suspect a trick by the tricky Mithradates and a catapult designed to allow him to escape fighting the battle that day.
Lucullus is another general who didn't and doesn't receive enough credit, either now or back then. His main drawback was that he lacked either the common touch or the inspirational words that would allow him to lead, like Alexander, or Caesar, his troops anywhere. Instead they constantly mutinied. The same kind of thing happened when he returned home. He lacked the ability to network so instead of receiving congratulations and power in return for all he had accomplished, all he got was jealousy. Not knowing how to counter it, he simply retired to his estates and allowed others to make up vicious rumors about him. This isn't made all that clear in the book, by the way, but then the book is a little hazy on events in Rome. Recommend using other books as supplements for this.
The book includes a photo of a white Mt. Kazbek (in the Caucasus), which the book describes a perpetually mantled in snow. Apparently not so anymore. A 2019 photo on the web indicates almost no snow at all.
The theories on Hypsicrates are rather fascinating.
The appendix on the legacy of Mithradates in the arts is superb!
March 22, 2013
Mithradates VI of Pontus did nothing by half measures. In the spring of 88 BC he organized the slaughter of essentially all the Roman and Italian residents of the Province of Asia which encompassed western Turkey. Men, women and children, masters and slaves were rounded up and killed without mercy. Those who attempted to gain sanctuary in the temples were murdered and the temples burned. Their property was confiscated; people who killed Roman moneylenders had their debts cancelled; bounties were offered for informers and the killers of Romans in hiding.
As least 80,000 Romans and Italians living in Anatolia and the Aegean islands massacred—thousands of merchants and tax collectors with their slaves and families had emigrated from Italy to the newly conquered Asian province of the Roman Republic. In addition to the number of people killed, that the plot was kept secret from the Romans was one of the great intelligence coups and mysteries of the ancient world. Ordinary people from all ethnic groups and social classes were part of the poplar alliance to wipe out the Romans. Indigenous Anatolians, Greeks and Jews killed in response to Rome’s system of taxation and debt which destroyed individuals and threw entire cities into financial collapse. Mithradates appealed to the wealthy and the poor because all had felt the sting of the Roman lash and suffered under its yoke.
The events of 88 BC were extreme, even in that ultra-sanguine era. It wasn’t part of neither a war nor a rampage by victorious soldiers after battle—it was a terror attack the targeted specific groups of civilians, painstakingly planned in advance and ruthlessly carried out. It was explicitly designed to eliminate and entire ethnic and linguistic group. By today’s standards it would be genocide, terrorism and crimes against humanity. While the first century BC was rife with state-sponsored, collective and private acts of violence, nothing was as cold-blooded and of such a large scale.
Like all kings, Mithradates wanted to keep his dynasty intact. This was difficult in the first century BC in areas under intermittent Roman rule, and was made especially chancy in Mithradates’ realm where (for example) mothers killed older sons in order to rule as a regent for younger ones who then would slay their mothers as the sons approached the age to reign. He claimed to be descended from the generals of Alexander the Great through his father and Darius I of Persia through his mother and since there was no other examples of such impeccable breeding he made on of his sisters his wife. While this was not uncommon in the eastern Mediterranean in the classical period—Egypt was rife with brothers who were their own brothers-in-law for example—he went even further, imprisoning his remaining sisters in enforced virginity in case a substitute breeder was necessary.
Mithradates of Pontus was a king who wanted to be known as Rome’s greatest enemy. He was a symbol of cruelty and a hero confronting the unstoppable merciless expansion of empire. He freed thousands of slaves, pardoned prisoners of war and enemy captives, granted democratic rights throughout the lands he ruled and shared the spoils of war widely among his followers. At the same time Mithradates was cruel, unscrupulous; his tactics were both successful and devastating. For Rome he was the most feared enemy general since Hannibal.
Adrienne Mayor has spent years reading the sources in several ancient and modern languages and obviously knows her stuff. Her narrative weaves all the facts available with informed speculation on what might have happened during periods when the sources are missing or inadequate; a fragment of a Roman commentary on a Greek history tells us most of what we know about Mithradates’ childhood for example. “The Poison King: The Life and Legend of Mithradates, Rome's Deadliest Enemy” falls in the between literary historical fiction—the chapter “The Lost Boys” when Mithradates and a cohort of friends went missing from the court and were probably living in the Anatolian wilderness, both as an adventure and to avoid death at the hands of his mother—is based on Mayor’s interpretation of some of the legend that surrounds this most mythic of figures.
As least 80,000 Romans and Italians living in Anatolia and the Aegean islands massacred—thousands of merchants and tax collectors with their slaves and families had emigrated from Italy to the newly conquered Asian province of the Roman Republic. In addition to the number of people killed, that the plot was kept secret from the Romans was one of the great intelligence coups and mysteries of the ancient world. Ordinary people from all ethnic groups and social classes were part of the poplar alliance to wipe out the Romans. Indigenous Anatolians, Greeks and Jews killed in response to Rome’s system of taxation and debt which destroyed individuals and threw entire cities into financial collapse. Mithradates appealed to the wealthy and the poor because all had felt the sting of the Roman lash and suffered under its yoke.
The events of 88 BC were extreme, even in that ultra-sanguine era. It wasn’t part of neither a war nor a rampage by victorious soldiers after battle—it was a terror attack the targeted specific groups of civilians, painstakingly planned in advance and ruthlessly carried out. It was explicitly designed to eliminate and entire ethnic and linguistic group. By today’s standards it would be genocide, terrorism and crimes against humanity. While the first century BC was rife with state-sponsored, collective and private acts of violence, nothing was as cold-blooded and of such a large scale.
Like all kings, Mithradates wanted to keep his dynasty intact. This was difficult in the first century BC in areas under intermittent Roman rule, and was made especially chancy in Mithradates’ realm where (for example) mothers killed older sons in order to rule as a regent for younger ones who then would slay their mothers as the sons approached the age to reign. He claimed to be descended from the generals of Alexander the Great through his father and Darius I of Persia through his mother and since there was no other examples of such impeccable breeding he made on of his sisters his wife. While this was not uncommon in the eastern Mediterranean in the classical period—Egypt was rife with brothers who were their own brothers-in-law for example—he went even further, imprisoning his remaining sisters in enforced virginity in case a substitute breeder was necessary.
Mithradates of Pontus was a king who wanted to be known as Rome’s greatest enemy. He was a symbol of cruelty and a hero confronting the unstoppable merciless expansion of empire. He freed thousands of slaves, pardoned prisoners of war and enemy captives, granted democratic rights throughout the lands he ruled and shared the spoils of war widely among his followers. At the same time Mithradates was cruel, unscrupulous; his tactics were both successful and devastating. For Rome he was the most feared enemy general since Hannibal.
Adrienne Mayor has spent years reading the sources in several ancient and modern languages and obviously knows her stuff. Her narrative weaves all the facts available with informed speculation on what might have happened during periods when the sources are missing or inadequate; a fragment of a Roman commentary on a Greek history tells us most of what we know about Mithradates’ childhood for example. “The Poison King: The Life and Legend of Mithradates, Rome's Deadliest Enemy” falls in the between literary historical fiction—the chapter “The Lost Boys” when Mithradates and a cohort of friends went missing from the court and were probably living in the Anatolian wilderness, both as an adventure and to avoid death at the hands of his mother—is based on Mayor’s interpretation of some of the legend that surrounds this most mythic of figures.
March 2, 2019
Un travesti de libro. Ni es historia ni es nada. Así escriben por lo visto ahora los politizados miembros de la academia en EEUU. Se debe ayudar al lector a comprender la historia llevándolo al período en que se produjeron los hechos, para que pueda "verlos" con los ojos de los antiguos, y no al revés: traer los hechos y personajes aisladamente desde su pasado lejano a un presente infestado de terminología política de muy lamentable actualidad.
Racismo, genocidio, terrorismo... Sólo le faltó a esta autora -que maldita sea su estampa- hablar de homofobia y de calentamiento global. Así están las universidades en Occidente. Lamentable.
Racismo, genocidio, terrorismo... Sólo le faltó a esta autora -que maldita sea su estampa- hablar de homofobia y de calentamiento global. Así están las universidades en Occidente. Lamentable.
November 19, 2020
Good enough read, but due to a lack of historical sources, there is way, way too much "I imagine this is how it may have happened" creative writing from the author. And the book ends with what appears to be some Mithridatic fan fiction. The only solid history in the book is that both the Romans and Mithridates were cruel murderous tyrants, which is undersold by the author.
March 9, 2022
Well this was a really enjoyable read. I certainly took my time reading it, but it really wasn't all that dense or boring. In the early sections, I thought I might give it 4 stars simply because I, like so many of the detractors of the book, had gotten tired of hearing about "what might have been" but I always knew that that was essentially the very point of the book. In a situation where our sources are not exhaustive and incomplete in very significant portions, there can only ever be "what might have been."
So here's a little more. I think Mayor does a great job reconstructing the life of Mithradates VI Eupator. She is as exhaustive as someone can be on a subject where there is much guesswork needed. And where necessity demands a finer analysis of the primary sources, I think she puts forward some great arguments. I'll admit that it might get tiring in some sections to resign oneself to a lower bar for history, but the only people who might so tirelessly do so are surely scholars of the rising Roman Republic which I'd wager would be willing to go along with Mayor's arguments.
Some cool stuff: What is Mithradates' kingdom of Pontus? I can tell you, I've had a ball explaining this to people because you might imagine that people know NOTHING about this period in the Roman Republic after Alexander and after Carthage yet before (Julius) Caesar, but they know even less (if you're keeping track, that's less than nothing) about ancient Anatolia. So talking about indigenous Persian and Greek influenced southern Black Sea Anatolians further Hellenized by Alexander and their relations with the rest of those Anatolian kingdoms AND the further north tribes of the Caucuses, and those of the northern and even western Black Sea Coasts is a veritable garden of unknown delights to the average person. For me, well I know the big names, but I liked exploring even more of the nuance in the region and the city-states that played a big part in the lives of some of the Romans I knew more about. Is this a reason to avoid the book? No not at all. In fact, Mayor does a commendable job grounding your idea of Mithradates and his Pontic kingdom in the big ideas of Persia, Greece, Rome, and the Hellenized east. If anything it's regrettable that the post-Alexandrian kingdoms couldn't be covered more thoroughly. But this book isn't about them!
At any rate, I really enjoyed the history. I think Mayor does a good job and goes beyond that offering ideas about how things might have actually been based on the information we have. At the end, she even indulges in some theories about how Mithradates' suicide could have been a convenient cover for his escape for all those concerned. I think that it is accessible enough as a history book, if you are willing to dive into this lesser explored period and region of history.
If I had to pick one thing that chafed at me it might be the depiction of Rome as the slavering wolf off to conquer Asia Minor and Mithradates as the champion of liberty. But these depictions are only true in part and as the book progresses, Mayor unravels the nuance of both sides (and other independent kingdoms involved) for the reader. Euge!
So here's a little more. I think Mayor does a great job reconstructing the life of Mithradates VI Eupator. She is as exhaustive as someone can be on a subject where there is much guesswork needed. And where necessity demands a finer analysis of the primary sources, I think she puts forward some great arguments. I'll admit that it might get tiring in some sections to resign oneself to a lower bar for history, but the only people who might so tirelessly do so are surely scholars of the rising Roman Republic which I'd wager would be willing to go along with Mayor's arguments.
Some cool stuff: What is Mithradates' kingdom of Pontus? I can tell you, I've had a ball explaining this to people because you might imagine that people know NOTHING about this period in the Roman Republic after Alexander and after Carthage yet before (Julius) Caesar, but they know even less (if you're keeping track, that's less than nothing) about ancient Anatolia. So talking about indigenous Persian and Greek influenced southern Black Sea Anatolians further Hellenized by Alexander and their relations with the rest of those Anatolian kingdoms AND the further north tribes of the Caucuses, and those of the northern and even western Black Sea Coasts is a veritable garden of unknown delights to the average person. For me, well I know the big names, but I liked exploring even more of the nuance in the region and the city-states that played a big part in the lives of some of the Romans I knew more about. Is this a reason to avoid the book? No not at all. In fact, Mayor does a commendable job grounding your idea of Mithradates and his Pontic kingdom in the big ideas of Persia, Greece, Rome, and the Hellenized east. If anything it's regrettable that the post-Alexandrian kingdoms couldn't be covered more thoroughly. But this book isn't about them!
At any rate, I really enjoyed the history. I think Mayor does a good job and goes beyond that offering ideas about how things might have actually been based on the information we have. At the end, she even indulges in some theories about how Mithradates' suicide could have been a convenient cover for his escape for all those concerned. I think that it is accessible enough as a history book, if you are willing to dive into this lesser explored period and region of history.
If I had to pick one thing that chafed at me it might be the depiction of Rome as the slavering wolf off to conquer Asia Minor and Mithradates as the champion of liberty. But these depictions are only true in part and as the book progresses, Mayor unravels the nuance of both sides (and other independent kingdoms involved) for the reader. Euge!
January 3, 2023
Generally, I find the majority opinion on Goodreads to be solid and well-reasoned but for this book, I would say there are a lot of negative reviews that have somehow made it to the top which is disappointing. While The Poison King could be improved in a few areas, all in all, the book is worthy of the awards it won. For one thing, the subject is not an easy to write a full-length book about but Adrienne Mayor does a fairly good job of it. The Poison King is easy to read and to approach even if you don’t know your Pompey from your Sulla. Sometimes knowing the various ancient sources is just as crucial when reading Ancient History as it is knowing the characters but that is not the case here, as Mayor keeps everything approachable, even for a “layperson”. While I do think there are some diversions to discuss Mithridates scientific accomplishments that probably weren’t needed and make the book a bit longer than it needed to be, the narrative is strong and carries you through.
Unfortunately, the final chapter is definitely the weak part. I think the author floats a lot of tantalizing ideas and possibilities but there isn’t enough evidence to take them all that seriously. They’re fun to think about but seem a bit out of place in this particular book which is generally trustworthy and seems historically sound. The author does deserve praise for taking some chances though. In particular, she deserves credit for using a lot of images in her book. Most ancient books are pretty paltry in this department but not at all here. Its also really cool to see high quality coin images throughout. I love ancient coins myself and I can tell the author is of a similar mindset. Even if you have no interest in coins, I think everyone can appreciate the images of Mithridates on coins, no matter how idealized they likely are.
The Poison King is not one of my favorite books on Ancient History but I do think it is a solid read and I’m thankful that a great historical figure like Mithridates has his own biography. If you read enough Roman History, you know that some parts of Rome’s History are over-saturated and others are underrepresented. Mithridates falls in that second camp and its always a pleasure to see a major historical figure from this era get the coverage they deserve.
Unfortunately, the final chapter is definitely the weak part. I think the author floats a lot of tantalizing ideas and possibilities but there isn’t enough evidence to take them all that seriously. They’re fun to think about but seem a bit out of place in this particular book which is generally trustworthy and seems historically sound. The author does deserve praise for taking some chances though. In particular, she deserves credit for using a lot of images in her book. Most ancient books are pretty paltry in this department but not at all here. Its also really cool to see high quality coin images throughout. I love ancient coins myself and I can tell the author is of a similar mindset. Even if you have no interest in coins, I think everyone can appreciate the images of Mithridates on coins, no matter how idealized they likely are.
The Poison King is not one of my favorite books on Ancient History but I do think it is a solid read and I’m thankful that a great historical figure like Mithridates has his own biography. If you read enough Roman History, you know that some parts of Rome’s History are over-saturated and others are underrepresented. Mithridates falls in that second camp and its always a pleasure to see a major historical figure from this era get the coverage they deserve.
March 21, 2025
One historical figure I've always been fascinated by is Mithradates. All I knew about him was that he immune to poisons and often used this "skill" as a party trick. I was happy to find this biography on one of the most ambitious and relentless foes of the Roman empire. Mayor uses the known archeological evidence to tell his story. Yet since he lived so long ago, and there aren't many records, Mayor fills in the gaps of his story with possibilities based on the politics of the time and the evidence known. Some interesting facts I learned:
- A non-fatal lightning strike left him with a lightning bolt scar. People thought this meant he was crowned by the gods. This story is unverified, but the lore could've inspired the same instance in Harry Potter.
- His story inspired one of Mozart's earliest operas. Mozart came to know about him from the play Mithradate by Jean Racine.
- He dreamed of being immune to poison early in life. He came up with an elixir that many powerful people wanted. His methods are a literal display of pharmakon.
- After his father was poisoned, his mother tried to kill him, but he escaped and lived like Robin Hood for years.
- He was cruel and murderous even to his own family. When he thought his heir was plotting against him, he wanted to have him killed. There are so many instances given of his cruel behavior given and they make me uneasy.
- A non-fatal lightning strike left him with a lightning bolt scar. People thought this meant he was crowned by the gods. This story is unverified, but the lore could've inspired the same instance in Harry Potter.
- His story inspired one of Mozart's earliest operas. Mozart came to know about him from the play Mithradate by Jean Racine.
- He dreamed of being immune to poison early in life. He came up with an elixir that many powerful people wanted. His methods are a literal display of pharmakon.
- After his father was poisoned, his mother tried to kill him, but he escaped and lived like Robin Hood for years.
- He was cruel and murderous even to his own family. When he thought his heir was plotting against him, he wanted to have him killed. There are so many instances given of his cruel behavior given and they make me uneasy.
February 17, 2020
This biography of Mithradates had the immense challenge of creating a work of non-fiction, largely limited to a handful of authorities of antiquity. Overall it was pretty good. However, there was at least one instance where the author-whether intentionally or by mistake-created fiction where there is already a rich history. On page 341, she writes that Pompey “made war on the Jews in Palestine.” Last time I checked, Emperor Hadrian created a province called Palestine in around 135 AD. This biography takes place several decades before Christ, when the geographic region of Palestine did not exist and Jerusalem was ruled by the Hasmonean Dynasty of the Kingdom of Judea. So either the historian has made a serious mistake in her profession, or she seeks to re-write the history the Jews. I would love to give this book five stars, but re-writing the history of the Jews is not only unprofessional but incredibly dangerous in our modern day.
April 23, 2024
I really enjoyed this look at the life of Mithradates. I found the book easy to digest, with some well-researched bits. There is a lot of speculation, as the history of Mithradates is sadly incomplete due to the loss of the original source materials, which I see from other reviews many took issue with. I personally don't mind the meandering into "what ifs" or "suppose..." moments, so that's not what took a star off. My issue is that, had I not previously read The Histories by Herodotus, I would've been confused at the name dropping of various Persian Kings (Xerxes, Cyrus, and Darius) and the mentions of the various peoples who lived around Mithradates' home of Pontus. They're inserted into the book without any fanfare or explanation, which would definitely impact your understanding of what the author was saying if you hadn't known their history. For me, it wasn't an issue, but I could see it being a problem for others who hadn't just read all about the Greco-Persian Wars.
March 29, 2023
Antik dönem kayıtları çoğu zaman kayıp ya da eksiktir. Elde olanlarla Mithradates'e ve yaşamına dair bir şeyler yazarken olabilecek senaryolara göre çeşitli fikirlere ışık tutması adına çok değerli ve akıcı bir eser. Sadece Mithradates'in yaşamını değil, dönem Roma'sının komutan ve lejyonlarının savaşa dair gelenek ve düşüncelerini de görebileceğiniz eser okuruna heyecan sunuyor.
Tek eleştirim, bir İş Kültür klasiği olan eklerin ve dipnotların sona konmuş olmasına. sona git, kaldığın yere dön yapmak okuma sürecini, odaklanmayı baltalayan bir şey. Düzeltilene kadar her incelememe bunu yazmayı düşünüyorum. :)
Gürkan Ergin Hoca'nın nefis çevirisi ile okusanız seversiniz bence.
Tek eleştirim, bir İş Kültür klasiği olan eklerin ve dipnotların sona konmuş olmasına. sona git, kaldığın yere dön yapmak okuma sürecini, odaklanmayı baltalayan bir şey. Düzeltilene kadar her incelememe bunu yazmayı düşünüyorum. :)
Gürkan Ergin Hoca'nın nefis çevirisi ile okusanız seversiniz bence.
February 3, 2020
The story of Rome's greatest enemy, right when the Republic was in its final death throes. Myth and history blend to create an image of a truly formidable individual, one who managed not to only reign for 57(!!) years, but also to recover from multiple defeats of such magnitude that a lesser individual would have certainly capitulated.
June 24, 2024
the incredibly epic nature of mithradates' life save this book from multiple spelling errors, a bad writer, and a literal alternate history scenario which was "admittedly romantic" and based on medieval legends
January 29, 2018
History is a lot more fun to make than I thought
June 15, 2024
Pojedine istorijske teme ne iziskuju poznate autore, ali im prestiž nekog akademika sigurno nimalo ne škodi. Recimo, ako trgujete studiju poput Mejorinog drugog rada, Grčka vatra, otrovne strijele i škorpionske bombe (Overlook, 2003), svjesno to radite kako biste se upoznali sa biološkim i hemijskim ratom u drevnom svijetu, te piščevo ime u tom slučaju obično i zanemarite.
Ipak, kada je Mejorova, inače folklorista i predavač na Prinstonu, objavila svoj najnoviji rad, Kralja otrova (prvo izdanje 2009), njen naslov je bezmalo odmah isplivao na top-10 listama, a onda je nagrađen nekolicinom priznanja i ovjenčan skoro nestvarnim pohvalama od strane američke akademije. Nedugo potom, Kralj je postao i finalista najprestižnije nagrade od svih, National Book Award, ali je najposlije nije dobio. Ovim se stiče dojam da se Mejorino ime iznenada počelo pojavljivati na svakoj drugoj istorijskoj knjizi objavljenoj u Americi u vidu blurb-preporuke, i ova individua najedanput više nije bila opskurni autor.
Donekle je i jasno zbog čega je Mejorova odabrala da baš o briljantnom Mitridatu napiše zahvalno digresivnu i informativnu knjigu, a prvobitni razlog ne glasi zato jer je istoriji već decenijama zaista falilo studijâ o ovom zapravo nejakom ali fascinantnom vojskovođi. Naime, u Grčkoj vatri najviše se, čini se, isticao upravo Mitridatov lik, čiji je život oduvijek graničio sa mitom (da je polovinu života proveo kao Tarzan i da je ujedno znao da se sporazumijeva na dvadesetak jezika), i o čijem životu znamo zahvaljujući biografijama koje su prevashodno pisali njegovi neprijatelji, a to je sigurno nešto što samo može imponovati jednom folkloristi.
Mitridat VI Eupator Dioniz je rođen u Sinopi, na Pontu (Turska), pokraj Crnog mora, 135. godine prije Hrista, i njegovo rođenje je obilježila blistava svjetlost jedne komete, a isto će, četiri generacije poslije, biti izmišljeno da se zbivalo i iznad Vitlejema, na Istoku, a što će takođe nagovijestiti rođenje drugog znamenitog čovjeka. Mitridat je bio persijsko-makedonskog porijekla.
Time je ostvario onaj Aleksandrov san o miješanoj krvi, a kometa što je ispratila njegovo rođenje navela ga je da kasnije, čim je naslijedio pontsku porodičnu satrapiju, neutemeljeno ustvrdi da njime kola krv Darija I i, sa majčine strane, krv Aleksandra Velikog. Mejorova, međutim, piše da su se dva istoričara nedavno saglasili da uopšte nije nerealno da je pontski kralj zbilja vodio porijeklo od Kira Velikog (utemeljivača Persijskog carstva), i da se zapravo ne radi o pukim lažima njegovih lojalista kako bi se pojačalo kraljevo plemićko porijeklo.
Što se već Aleksandrove loze tiče, Mitridat je navodno bio u rodu sa Barsinom, persijskom princezom koju je zarobio Aleksandar nakon bitke kod Ise (333. godine prije Hrista). Barsina je dobila sina sa Aleksandrom i bila stacionirana u Pergamu, odakle je održavala bliske veze sa Mitridatovom porodicom. Mitridatova mater, Laodikeja, princeza iz Antioha (Sirija) bila je potomak Aleksandrovog generala Seleuka Nikatora, osnivača novog makedonsko-persijskog carstva, što se pružalo od Anatolije i centralne Azije pa do Vavilona i Irana.
San Aleksandra Velikog je bio da spoji persijsku i grčku krv i kulturu, i od toga da načini hibridnu civilizaciju. Ako je vjerovati bezmalo svemu na šta ukazuju istorijski dokazi, onda je Mitridat upravo bio perfektni model onoga što je Aleksandar imao na umu. Štaviše, tokom svoje vladavine, Mitridat se nije odvajao od naslijeđenog plašta za koji je tvrdio da je pripadao nikom drugom do Aleksandru. Ono što ostavlja utisak jeste da se Mitridatova biografija podudara sa standardnim nizom događaja tipično lociranih u životnim pričama mitskih heroja iz raznih kultura.
Mocart je napisao operu o Mitridatu, a Rasin famoznu tragediju, i oba ova rada počinju sa pretpostavkom da slavni kralj naposljetku nije izvršio suicid pošto je bio satjeran u ugao od strane svojeg petog sina koji je poveo pobunu protiv njega.
Vrijedi pomenuti i to da se Makijaveli prvi divio Mitridatovim defanzivnim taktikama.
U mladosti je Mitridat osmislio nesvakidašnji plan za preživljavanje ubistva otrovom (standardni način za ubijanjem plemića s njegove makedonske i persijske strane), pomno izučavajući rukopise na nekoliko jezika, postavši opčinjen time čim je, još kao dijete, izbjegao smrt od ruke vlastite majke i odmetnuo se u šumu; kasnije ju je ubio, kao i svojeg brata, i došao na vlast. Njegov program se zasnivao na konceptu kušanja neznatnih količina otrova, tek toliko koliko da svoj imunitet navikne na njega ako mu organizam ikada više naiđe na taj toksin (isti princip imaju moderne vakcine). Kralj je svakodnevno jeo mrvice raznih toksina i protivotrova, ali se to pokazalo kao problem kad je na kraju odlučio da sebi oduzme život otrovom.
Svoje otrove redovno je isprobavao na zarobljenicima, sve dok nije stvorio složenu mješavinu od pedeset četiri najbolja protivotrova pomiješana sa medom – vjerovatno čuvenim pontskim medom od rododendrona, poznatim naročito po svojem toksinu – od čega je načinio jedinstveni lijek, mitridatij, za vlastitu protekciju. Njegovu smjesu stoljećima su kasnije unaprijedili rimski toksikolozi, kao što je bio Neronov doktor, a zatim i čuveni Galen; on je mitridatij obogaćivao opijumom i pripremao ga trima imperatorima, uključujući i velikog stoika Marka Aurelija.
Znanje o otrovima Mitridat je iskorištavao u borbama protiv Rimljana, gdje je sa sobom poveo i veliki dio Grka iz istočnog dijela Rimskog carstva, koji su naprečac shvatili da ipak više cijene omraženog Aleksandra nego novu rimsku tiraniju. Mitridat, znajući da ne postoji šansa da on sâm porazi moćno carstvo, odlučio je da ga barem ustalasa – ako ne i da pokrene sveopštu revoluciju – uoči i tokom građanskog rata usred Čizme, koji je vremenom odnio 300,000 italijanskih života.
Dvije godine prije suicida, 65. godine prije Hrista, i dok je Pompej Veliki pokušavao da porazi Mitridata, Pompejeva rimska legija se približavala Kolhidi. Mitridatovi saveznici su na put kojim će eventualno proći Rimljani stavili pčelinje saće odakle je točio lokalni otrovni med. Rimski vojnici su počeli da jedu med i redom da gube razum. Mitridatovi saveznici su u toj bici lagano pogubili više od hiljadu rimskih vojnika.
Desetak godina prije Pompeja, na Mitridata je najmanje trećinu svoje vojne karijere straćio i general Licinije Lukul. Naime, odvažni – ili, ako hoćete, sumanuti – Mitridat se usprotivio rimskoj tiraniji 88. godine prije Hrista neviđenim zvjerstvom. Tajno je napravio dogovor sa svojim grčkim saveznicima da se određenog dana zakolje svaki Rimljanin, uključujući žene i djecu, u novoj rimskoj provinciji u Aziji. Toliko su, naime, bili omraženi imperijalni kolonisti da ih je tog dana, navodno, pogubljeno više od 80,000.
Mitridat se, potom, sa brojnom vojskom sjatio na zapad, odlučno poput Hanibala, tako osvojivši Tursku i Grčku, i zaprijetivši da će napasti Italiju. U to doba on je odista smatran za velikog osloboditelja i antiimperijalistu, a naročito među Grcima, odnosno u Atini, koju je posebno inspirisao u ratu protiv Rima.
Rimska armija prvo se borila sa Mitridatom u Bitiniji (sjeverozapadna Turska). Mitridat je na točkove svojih kočija nasadio dugačke kose, koje su se strelovito sjurile na rimske legionare, većinu ljudi na njihovom putu ostavivši bez nogu. Sama ta grozna slika živih ljudi bez ekstremiteta, natjerali su rimsku vojsku u bjekstvo. Ubrzo je Mitridat zarobio rimskog legata Manija Akvilija, sina brutalnog rimskog komandanta kritikovanog zbog trovanja mnogih bunara u Aziji tokom ranijeg rata. Mitridat je paradirao toga zvaničnika na magarcu i onda ga pogubio zbog primanja mita na način koji, danas, većina nas možda ipak i ne bi odobrili – u grlo mu je sipao istopljeno zlato.
Ovakva zbivanja dovela su do dugotrajnih Mitridatskih ratova (u trajanju od 90-63. godine prije Hrista), u kome je niz rimskih generala zaredom poražavao Mitridatovu savezničku vojsku na kopnu i na moru, ali nijedan nije uspio da napokon i uhvati tog monarha; on bi im, taman poput Hanibala, uvijek izmakao u posljednjem trenutku. I tako gotovo tri decenije.
U opsadama gradova u kojima se nalazio Mitridat, prvi put u istoriji su korišćene najneobičnije taktike protiv opsađivača – od rojeva pčela i bijesnih medvjeda koji su huškani na tunelaše, pa do otrovnih strijela sa dvostrukim vrhovima koje su odapinjane u povlačenju. Bedemi Tigranoserte na Tigrisu (istočna Turska), gdje se Mitridat krio kod svojeg zeta, bili su poluzavršeni i grad je vrlo brzo zauzet, ali ne prije nego što su varvari nanijeli velike gubitke Rimljanima. U pitanju je bilo novo oružje velike razornosti.
Istoričar Dio Kasije opisuje kako su Tigranosertani sipali mlazeve vatre po rimskim opsadnim mašinama. Ta čudna vatra je doslovno proždirala sve pred sobom. „Ova hemija“, piše Kasije, „je krcata bitumenom i toliko ognjevita da u trenutku sagorijeva sve čega se domogne, a pri tom ne može biti ugašena nijednom tečnošću.“ Ta likvidna vatra je u stvari bila nafta, a princip na koji će se ona izbacivati na desetostruko veću daljinu, 500 godina docnije, biće poznat kao „grčka vatra“.
Kod opsade Samostate, na rijeci Eufrat, grada što je pripadao Mitridatovom savezniku, još je više gubitaka pretrpjela vojska Licinija Lucija Lukula. Ovog puta to se zbilo od modifikovane vatre isprobane kod Tigranoserte – Plinije je naziva „maltom“, jer je voda ovu smjesu još više rasplamsavala – kada su se rimski vojnici najposlije pobunili i počeli da dezertiraju. Samostata je ostala nezavisna i neosvojiva pustinjska utvrda i narednih stotinu godina, a Lukul je izdahnuo 57. godine prije Hrista od ludila izazvanog otrovom.
Čitajući o Mitridatu saznajemo da je ova Mejorina knjiga prva knjiga o toj istorijskoj ličnosti u posljednjih pedeset godina. Nisam siguran koliko zaslužuje National Book Award, ali bi trebala da bude obavezno štivo svim poklonicima helenističke ere koja je zamrla nedugo nakon Mitridatove smrti.
2012
June 30, 2019
3.5/5. My first introduction to the prolific life of Mithridates VI was really due to my discovery of the term ‘Mithridatism’ named in his honor. Mithridatism is ‘the practice of protecting oneself against a poison by gradually self-administering non-lethal amounts’, as per good old Wikipedia. Mithridates was one of the most famous practitioners in antiquity for inoculation of this kind, and he became notorious for his research and experiments with all kinds of poisons. His interest wasn’t solely scientific—he held a perfectly reasonable fear of death by poisoning in a time when dining could be as much an occupational hazard for the upper classes as an outright battle. Which leads to the second thing I learned about Mithridates – that he was an Anatolian King considered to be one of Rome deadliest enemies.
The Poison King
does a satisfactory job in filling the rest of the gaps in my knowledge. His obsession with toxicology was far from the only interesting thing about him.
Mayor is clearly enthused by the subject Mithridates Eupator and can be effusive at times about this man who would create an empire that threatened that of contemporary Rome’s. The monarch hailed from the Anatolian kingdom of Pontus by the Black Sea and was raised with both Greek and Persian influences. He could claim ancestry from both Darius I and Alexander the Great – and had few qualms about flaunting the prestige of his bloodline. This book covers the notable events of his life in detail: his birth in Kingdom of Pontus under favorable omens, his escape after the assassination of his father, his ascension to the throne of Pontus after years in exile, his annexations and massacre of Romans within Asia Minor, and the aggressive posturing with Rome that lead to the three Mithridatic wars. My personal favourite sections were those on the Third Mithridatic war under the Roman generalship of Lucius Licinius Lucullus.
Mithridates was extremely controversial figure, to say the least, and The Posion King doesn’t shy away from explaining why.
To many in Anatolia, Greece, and beyond he was considered a hero willing to stand up against the aggressive conquests of Rome. He regularly freed slaves from Roman captivity and offered them positions in this armies. He proclaimed himself to be the defender of the Greeks and made promises to save them from Roman tyranny. His diplomacy was often charming and persuasive as a pointed counterpoint to the more aggressive and demanding nature of the Romans, although certainly manipulative. For those who had little love for the Roman Empire and its ceaseless quest for territory and loot, Mithridates was – for a time – the likeliest champion they had for successful resistance.
But Mithridates was also famously ruthless, perpetually paranoid, and unflinchingly unforgiving when betrayed—most especially when members of his family were the offenders in question. He was feared and reviled by the Romans, who considered him their greatest enemy since Hannibal. This was not without good reason, as just prior to the first Mithridatic war the King had orchestrated the massacre of an estimated 80,000 Romans citizens living throughout Anatolia in 88 BCE. (The exact figure is disputed.) Though the murders were likely sanctioned to diminish Roman influence in Asia Minor, it was also a chilling endorsement for vengeance by locals who had grievances against Roman tax collectors, slavetraders and affluent citizens in general. The Romans can at least claim that Mithridates got his comeuppance once he was overthrown by his own son, although they were disgruntled that they weren't the ones to bring him to task.
Overall this provides a solid foundation on the history of Mithridates life. For the most part the narrative was smooth and informative, with the occasional analysis on the claims of (mostly Roman) historians. I will admit however that I wasn’t so much a fan of the “educated guessing” sections where Mayor indulges in almost pure conjecture as to what could have likely occurred during the undocumented parts of Mithridates life. I understand that the lack of sources and information for certain periods of his life can be frustrating when writing a biography but I don’t think it necessitates a fictional retelling, no matter how plausible. Or maybe I’m just too stringent about all this, since surely many claims of ancient historians are a form of propagandistic fiction in themselves. I do acknowledge the author’s prerogative to write about what they wish and she clearly seemed to have fun with these musings.
(On a last note, I want to point out that I listened to this as an audiobook and the narration by Paul Heckt was well done.)
Mayor is clearly enthused by the subject Mithridates Eupator and can be effusive at times about this man who would create an empire that threatened that of contemporary Rome’s. The monarch hailed from the Anatolian kingdom of Pontus by the Black Sea and was raised with both Greek and Persian influences. He could claim ancestry from both Darius I and Alexander the Great – and had few qualms about flaunting the prestige of his bloodline. This book covers the notable events of his life in detail: his birth in Kingdom of Pontus under favorable omens, his escape after the assassination of his father, his ascension to the throne of Pontus after years in exile, his annexations and massacre of Romans within Asia Minor, and the aggressive posturing with Rome that lead to the three Mithridatic wars. My personal favourite sections were those on the Third Mithridatic war under the Roman generalship of Lucius Licinius Lucullus.
Mithridates was extremely controversial figure, to say the least, and The Posion King doesn’t shy away from explaining why.
To many in Anatolia, Greece, and beyond he was considered a hero willing to stand up against the aggressive conquests of Rome. He regularly freed slaves from Roman captivity and offered them positions in this armies. He proclaimed himself to be the defender of the Greeks and made promises to save them from Roman tyranny. His diplomacy was often charming and persuasive as a pointed counterpoint to the more aggressive and demanding nature of the Romans, although certainly manipulative. For those who had little love for the Roman Empire and its ceaseless quest for territory and loot, Mithridates was – for a time – the likeliest champion they had for successful resistance.
But Mithridates was also famously ruthless, perpetually paranoid, and unflinchingly unforgiving when betrayed—most especially when members of his family were the offenders in question. He was feared and reviled by the Romans, who considered him their greatest enemy since Hannibal. This was not without good reason, as just prior to the first Mithridatic war the King had orchestrated the massacre of an estimated 80,000 Romans citizens living throughout Anatolia in 88 BCE. (The exact figure is disputed.) Though the murders were likely sanctioned to diminish Roman influence in Asia Minor, it was also a chilling endorsement for vengeance by locals who had grievances against Roman tax collectors, slavetraders and affluent citizens in general. The Romans can at least claim that Mithridates got his comeuppance once he was overthrown by his own son, although they were disgruntled that they weren't the ones to bring him to task.
Overall this provides a solid foundation on the history of Mithridates life. For the most part the narrative was smooth and informative, with the occasional analysis on the claims of (mostly Roman) historians. I will admit however that I wasn’t so much a fan of the “educated guessing” sections where Mayor indulges in almost pure conjecture as to what could have likely occurred during the undocumented parts of Mithridates life. I understand that the lack of sources and information for certain periods of his life can be frustrating when writing a biography but I don’t think it necessitates a fictional retelling, no matter how plausible. Or maybe I’m just too stringent about all this, since surely many claims of ancient historians are a form of propagandistic fiction in themselves. I do acknowledge the author’s prerogative to write about what they wish and she clearly seemed to have fun with these musings.
(On a last note, I want to point out that I listened to this as an audiobook and the narration by Paul Heckt was well done.)
May 28, 2025
Mithradates VI Eupator
Thomas Babington Macaulay, an English historian, once said that ‘history has to be burned into the imagination before it can be received by reason’, which seems to be a perfect description of Adrienne Mayor’s work on Mithradates VI Eupator. To research a subject so real and elusive at the same time must have been difficult. Here the fact is we know that Mithradates VI Eupator was one of Rome’s enemies that must be vanquished because he threatened the Roman’s imperialism project in Anatolia yet no one really knows exactly who Mithradates was as an individual except his political career and legends surrounding him. Unlike the later Roman emperors whose personal life and political careers were heavily intertwined and documented, there’s almost little documentation on the life of this Anatolian despot. So, I understood the criticism of Mayor’s Poison King because I, too, felt dissatisfied with her ‘plausible scenarios’ which you’ll find it aplenty in the earliest chapters. Mayor’s habit of equating Mithradates with a fictional character like Harry Potter is also mildly infuriating because it has no connection whatsoever and her layperson readers aren’t little kids or young teenagers.
But I get the idea of substituting missing links in Mithradates’ life by looking at different works and pointed the possibility of what might have happened. When Mayor talked about the travel of Xenophon and suggested that Mithradates might have faced similar ordeals during his exile before claiming his birthright, that seems to make sense. If only Mayor is more sure of her research, she may not need to use the excessive words of ‘let us speculate, let us suppose, let us imagine’ etc. because it sounds like she’s unsure of her own work.
Mithradates VI Eupator was clearly a scholar and scientist due to his interest in toxicology but not so much of a genius military strategist. I don’t think he’s Rome’s deadliest enemy but he definitely is the most elusive and frustrating to defeat. Born in the Kingdom of Pontus where assassination by poison is the main tool of eliminating political rivals, Mithradates learned early on to guard himself against such attacks. His interest in experimenting by injecting different poisons into his body or others and creating antidotes to neutralize the toxins stems from the insecurity of his own birthright in the royal palace. It is this interest—initially to protect his own life—that somehow became a lifelong passion of Mithradates where he invited the most learned scholars into his Black Sea kingdom to participate in the study of toxicology, herbalism, and advanced medicine in his era.
Illustration of Mithridates VI of Pontus learning Mithridatism practice of protecting oneself against a poison by gradually self-administering non-lethal amounts by Francesco Bertolini.
Only just now I realize that some of the physicians in antiquity, at some point, flourished in Anatolia because the culture there was quite progressive compared to the more rigid, disciplined Rome with all its virtus. Galen, the established physician whose works were often quoted (his theory of the four humors: black bile, yellow bile, blood, and phlegm) was from Pergamon. Krateuas, the rhizotomist who wrote treatises on plants and their medicinal properties complete with illustration was working in Mithradates’ court in Pontus. Attalus III of Pergamon owned a poison garden where he planted poisonous plants such as henbane, hemlock, and hellebore.
“Like mad King Attalus of Pergamon, Mithradates cultivated poison gardens of blue monkshood, polemonia (“plant of a thousand powers”), deadly nightshade, henbane, and the like, with his Greek “root-cutter” Krateuas, also of Pergamon. The first ethnobotanist and the father of botanical illustration, the Poison King’s fellow experimenter, Krateuas wrote two influential treatise that were among the king’s treasures brought to Rome after Mithradates’ death. The natural historian Pliny the Elder (AD 23-79) described these books, now lost. One was the first to include realistic coloured paintings of hundreds of medicinal plants; the other was a detailed pharmacology manual. Mithradates “was the first to discover several different antidotes to poisons,” noted Pliny, and “some of these plants even bear Mithradates’ name.” Krateuas named several plants after his patron—for example, pink Mithridatia (liliaceous Erythronium) and feathery-leaved Eupatorium.” ~Chapter 5: Return of the King, page 101.
True, Mithradates is quite robust than his peers as a result of his active experimentation on his own body and he died old by the sword but all those experiments were not without side effects. During his struggle with Rome (the three Mithradatic wars) there were bouts of paranoia that were ever-present in his campaigns. He was actually quite a loser and kept being beaten back by Sulla, Lucullus, and Pompey. But in terms of survivability, he always found a way to slip out of threatening situations. Later, when he got quite old and after crossing the Caucasus mountain en route to the Kingdom of Bosporus, he developed nasty facial ulcerations. Notably side effects from consuming arsenic daily (only Mithradates can regard arsenic as a supplement).
“Another strong possibility is that the facial ulcerations—as well as the episode of acute paranoia—were the result of long-term ingestion of arsenic, part of Mithradates’ anti poisoning regimen. Prolonged exposure to arsenic can cause bouts of mental imbalance, hallucinations, and paranoia. Arsenic also causes keratoses, which progress after ten to twenty years to skin cancers. Notably, frostbite causes arsenic-related skin cancers to putrify. Frostbite, combined with a lifetime of tiny doses of arsenic and other photosensitising toxins such as rue and Saint-John’s-wort, appears to be the best explanation of Mithradates’ skin ailment.” ~Chapter 14: End Game, page 340.
Having said that, there is a fascinating tidbit of information (unrelated to Mithradates) in this book that made me do my own additional research. When I noticed that at that time Anatolia was culturally more progressive (budding scientists and enlightened kings who funded medical experimentations), I felt like I stumbled upon something interesting, in regard to the city of Ephesus (famous for its Temple of Artemis). Fast forward, when Apostle Paul preached in Ephesus, this city was still the magnet of open-minded individuals, progressive learning, mercantile communities, expert craftsmen and that’s due to the flourishing Greek culture in Anatolia and their cult of Artemis. Women hold important positions as the priestesses of Artemis and can hold titles such as gymnasiarch (sponsor of athletic events) thus generating their own wealth and prestige (a power unto itself). Apostle Paul’s rebuke of women in the book of 1 Timothy is now gaining sense (apart from the spiritual message) as I saw the cultural clash of this cosmopolitan Hellenistic culture and traditional Hebrew values. Apostle Paul’s rebuke also threatened the craftsmen’s livelihood of making the Artemisian idols. The women worshippers of Artemis ordained themselves with golds, pearls, gems, and wore their hair in imitation of the goddess in order to express their commitment to the worship of Artemis. So, really, history gave an important context that’s quite enlightening.
For example, why the cult of Artemis was important in Ephesus? or rather, why the cult of the Great Mother is quite influential in Anatolia? That’s due to the low survivability rate of childbirth in antiquity. Humans worship them to alleviate the insecurity of daily life and common drudgery.
Oh well, this has been an interesting read (and research).
Postscriptum :
These are the two additional sources in regard to the Ephesian cult of Artemis.
1. Artemis of Ephesus, Why Her Identity Matters by Sandra L. Glahn : https://michaelfbird.substack.com/p/a...
2. 1 Timothy 2, Why Does Paul Tell Women To Shut It? by Kat Armas : https://katarmas.com/blog/2018/8/2/1-...
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