Book Review: The Rise of the Seleukid Empire, 323-223 BC

The Rise of the Seleukid Empire, 323-223 BCby John D. GraingerPen & Sword Books, 2014It seems somehow unlikely that any given publishing year would see even one first-rate study of the sprawling and ultimately ill-fated Seleucid Empire that stretched over a large part of the Middle East and lasted in one form or another from 323 BC to 63 BC, and yet 2014 has now seen two: Paul Kosmin's The Land of the Elephant Kings from Harvard University Press, and John Grainger's The Rise of the Seleukid Empire, 323-223 BC from Pen & Sword Books.Pen & Sword is the English-speaking world's truly indispensable publisher of specialist military history - their back catalogue is virtually designed to make armchair generals drool with sheer acquisitiveness - so the predictable Seleucid item from them would be something like a detailed study of one battle or type of weapon, one would think, but Grainger's project here is much grander: The Rise of the Seleukid Empire is the first volume of a projected trilogy laying out the entire fractious and dramatic history of the huge swath of territory claimed by Alexander the Great's general Seleucus Nicator in the wake of Alexander's death in 323. If this first volume is any indication, the final trilogy will be a landmark of classical studies.Our author sets his stage quickly and adroitly, pointing out that only a person of Alexander's tremendous charisma could possibly have held together the vast empire he and his soldiers carved out during a decade of relentless and often brilliant warmaking - and yet even at the end, Alexander was showing no signs of implementing anything in the way of a strong centralized government. Indeed, as Grainger reminds us, according to the ancient sources, Alexander was planning more and more far-flung voyages of conquest, opening every possible one of his rear flanks to rebellions and uprisings.This, our author tartly points out, was no way to run an empire, and the instant Alexander died, it all started exploding into warring factions. Generals, heirs, and regents grabbed whatever they could and squared off against each other, and Seleucus Nicator (Grainger, preferring the more accurate Greek-style consonants, styles him as Seleukos Nikator) was right in the thick of it. Not that any of this internecine warring amounted to much in the long run, as Grainger clearly and succinctly details:

Alexander's dynasty had failed in large part because he died while his heirs were either too young or too dim to have any chance of surviving in competition against such power-hungry and unscrupulous men as Kassander and Antigonos. Kassander's dynasty had failed because his eldest son died within months of succeeding him and his younger sons quarrelled, leaving the way open for Demetrios. Antigonos' dynasty was not yet finished, but Antigonos had been killed in battle and his son had failed through arrogance and ambition; the next generation, in the person of Antigonos Gonatas, was reduced to a few fortresses and a fleet; it looked like another failure. That is, not one of the Macedonian kings had yet succeeded in establishing a dynasty of rulers.

But the surprising genius of The Rise of the Seleukid Empire lies in the way it underscores the institutional strengths, rather than showy weaknesses, of the state Seleucus Nicator co-opted and then rebuilt. Readers of this volume who've long considered the Seleucids as the most diffuse and uninteresting of Alexander's successors will finish it with a radically revised opinion - and there are still two volumes to go.And those readers will be, again perhaps surprisingly, not only instructed but also entertained throughout. Grainger is a masterful researcher and explainer, but he's also got a fine dry wit and a neat and often incisive prose style. He mines his earliest sources for all their worth, as when he's writing about Seleucus's design to found a grand new city, a rival to Babylon, at some point between 312 and 307 BC:

The priests in Babylon wheeled out the astrologers. Seleukos consulted them on deciding the most auspicious day and hour for the city to be started. They apparently provide the 'correct' date, but shifted the time. The story, as related by Appian, has it that the army, which had been apparently assigned the task of beginning the work, did not wait for the stated hour, but suddenly began work at the 'correct' time, while Seleukos was in his tent waiting for the right time to arrive (the astrologers had clearly pushed the hour back, so that the start would be missed).

In this case as in many others in the course of the book, he presents both the incident and his engaging analysis of it:

This story calls for explication. Accepting that the astrologers did lie about the hour, their purpose must have been to inflict a reputation for misfortune and ill luck on the new city. Yet this could only be done - assuming the actual influence of the stars is nil - if the alteration of the hour was made public, for keeping it secret would have had no effect; only if it was known that the start was at the 'wrong' time could subsequent disasters be blamed on divine enmity.

The Rise of the Seleukid Empire covers the first century of a ramshackle kingdom that stood for a good deal longer, and thanks to Grainger's excellent sense of pacing and ear for colorful detail, there isn't a dull page from front to back (a claim that cannot be made, alas, for Kosmin's book, however magisterial it certainly is). The next volume is eagerly anticipated.