CLASSICAL CORNER
FORTEANA FROM THE ANCIENT WORLD COMPILED BY BARRY BALDWIN
Apart from Trump’s daily diatribes, Boris’s Brexit policy is seen by many as the ultimate ultimatum. Our English word comes from mediaeval/neo-Latin, going back to classical Ultimum.
The first recorded use of our word is in the Gentleman’s Magazine 1 (1731, p39) concerning diplomatic manoeuvres leading to that year’s Treaty of Vienna.
Some online dictionaries claim that in the early 1800s ‘ultimata’ comported the slang meaning of ‘buttocks’. I can see the anatomic logic but in terms of an actual source I’ve not got to the bottom of this.
Nemo me impune lacessit – Nobody challenges me and gets away with it… Most famous as the Scottish slogan – doesn’t extend to their national football team – but widely adopted elsewhere by many military regiments and sundry other groups.
Many good examples from ancient to modern times. Herodotus (bk6 chs489, bk7 ch133) says that Persian King Darius, prior to his invasion of Greece (culminating in Marathon), sent envoys to Athens and Sparta with earth and water, traditional tokens of submission. The Athenians threw them down a pit as common criminals. Spartans tossed them down a well, saying if they wanted earth and water that was the place to find them.
(But they were in the well, said Alice. Of course they were said the dormouse – well in)
For a somewhat sceptical discussion of these episodes, see Raphael Sealey, Classical Journal 72 (1976), 13-20 – available online.
A century or so later, Macedonian King Philip II (Alexander’s dad) menacingly asked the Spartans if he should approach them as friend or foe. Spartan reply – Neither.
The angry monarch then threatened, “If I bring my army into your territory, I will destroy your farms, slay your people, raze your city.”
Laconic reply – “IF” (presaging Kipling and Lindsay Anderson). These anecdotes retailed by Plutarch (Spartan Sayings, ch223 para1; On Garrulity, ch17 para1).
Modern Greeks kept up the tradition. On 28 October 1940 military dictator Ioannis Metaxas answered Mussolini’s surrender ultimatum with – “OXI!” (“NO!”)
As, more emphatically, did Mrs Thatcher in 1990, responding to the European Council’s demand for greater powers – “NO! NO! NO!” (a moment immortalised on YouTube). Or, as the Sun more colourfully put it – “Up Yours Delors!”
The Spartans would have approved General McAuliffe’s reply during the Battle of The Bulge to German demands for surrender – “NUTS!”
Pope Leo X’s order to the people of Ravenna (1519) to surrender the bones of Dante suits both ancient and modern collectors of ‘forteana’. Their response was COME AND GET THEM. When his Florentines arrived, the bones had mysteriously vanished, supposedly spirited away by Dante’s shade: see various websites, plus Dianne Halles, La Bella Lingua (2009), p76.
The Romans unsurprisingly feature prominently in this catalogue. In 172 BC, Popilius Laena was sent with an ultimatum to King Antiochus IV to abort his planned attack on Alexandria. When the latter prevaricated, Popilius drew a circle around him with his ambassador’s wand and said, “Before you step out of that, give me your answer.” The astounded monarch immediately succumbed.
Back in 218, Roman envoys arrived in Carthage to demand the surrender of Hannibal. Their leader quashed the fruitless arguments by pointing to his toga folds with the words, “I give you peace or war; you choose.” The Carthaginians replied that it was up to him. He offered war, they accepted at once. Bad decision; they would lose (Appian, Spanish Wars, bk3 ch13).
Perhaps the Americans should similarly have dealt with the Taliban when demanding they hand over Osama Bin Laden…
Later, in 29 BC, the Bastarnae tribe sent delegates to Roman general Crassus bidding him halt his campaign against them. The latter craftily gave them warm welcome, making them drunk since in this way the notoriously drink-sodden Scythians would divulge all their plans to him (Dio Cassius, bk51 ch24).
Dio Cassius (bk9 ch39) and Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Roman Antiquities bk19 ch5) provide the most lurid episode. In 282 BC, Roman ambassadors arrived at Tarentum (= Taranto, in southern Italy) to demand war reparations. They came in their posh, formal togas, thinking to impress the locals. Instead, they were met with laughter, urine, and defecation over their leader, Lucius Postumius Megellus. As the Tarentines guffawed, Lucius responded: “Laugh while you can. You’ll be crying for a long time when you wash these clothes with your blood.”
His prophecy, of course, came true; Rome would crush Tarentum. For ancillary sources and full details, see Mary Beard’s astute description in her Laughter in Ancient Rome (2014), p4.
By the way, in his great 2015 debate with Beard over who were greater, Greeks or Romans, Boris declared “The Romans were bastards” – She won the debate by audience votes… If you missed this gigantomachy, it’s on YouTube.
Perhaps Theresa May should count herself lucky not to have been met with this style of Euro-negotiation – Mrs Thatcher, of course, would simply have handbagged the lot.
All this, though, is put in the shade by events of 1945. In July, the Potsdam Declaration demanded unconditional surrender from Japan. The country’s Prime Minister’s response ended with the word ‘Mokusatsu’. This highly ambiguous term could connote either silent contempt or a delay for consideration. Official English translations took the first as a provocative intent to pursue the war. Result – HIROSHIMA.
Numerous websites provide the complete details of this monumental linguistic blunder, which sadly serves to endorse the old saying Nothing Is Improved By Translation Except A Bishop.
Now, Read This Column – OR ELSE…