LIVE BAIT Part Three

I suppose that the first great scientific insight into Lumbricus terrestris was written by Charles Darwain; “The Formation of Vegetable Mould Through The Action of Worms, With Observations On Their Habits’, which was published in October of 1881. According to the old man (he would die just 6 months later at the age of 73 and this was his last published work), there were 26,886 earthworms per acre in England, and every year those little wigglies passed ten tons of soil through their guts, turning, aerating and fertilizing a new inch of topsoil every five years. “The plough is one of the most ancient and valuable of man’s inventions; but long before he existed the land was regularly ploughed, and still continues to be thus ploughed by earthworms. It may be doubted whether there are many other animals which have played so important a part in the history of the world, as these lowly organized creatures.”

Darwin was so clearly charmed by Lumbricus terrestris that he decided to return the favor. “Worms do not possess any sense of hearing”, he noted. “They took no notice of the shrill notes from a metal whistle, which was repeatedly sounded near them; nor did they of the deepest and loudest tones of a bassoon. They were indifferent to shouts, if care was taken that the breath did not strike them.

"When placed on a table close to the keys of a piano, which was played as loudly as possible, they remained perfectly quiet….When pots containing two worms which had remained quite indifferent to the sound of the piano were placed on this instrument, and the note C in the bass clef was struck, both instantly retreated into their burrows…and when G above the line in the treble clef was struck they again retreated.”. How could you not admire and trust a man who was so utterly and gently fascinated with such a beguiling creature that he was drawn to play the piano for them?

Continued Darwin, “The whole body of the worm is sensitive to contact….Judging by their eagerness for certain kinds of food, they must enjoy the pleasure of eating. Their sexual passion is strong enough to overcome for a time their dread of light. They perhaps have a trace of social feeling, for they are not disturbed by crawling over each other’s bodies, and they sometimes lie in contact…” This man loved his worms. Of course Darwin also cut them open to see what made them tick, but that was the scientist within him. And it is important to note that before Darwin wrote his paper, Lumbricus terrestris was considered a garden pest, and killed on sight. His insights have thus saved millions of worms over the last 150 years; for one thing, few people eat worm pie anymore.

Because of their simple soft body plan the only record we have of the evolution of worms are their lithic trails and fossilized castings – otherwise known as ‘worm poop." We do know that the wigglies' developed at least 550 million years ago, making them pre-pre-Cambrian. That also makes them the ancestors to us and the red-billed oxpecker pecking at ticks on a hippo’s back, the hippo, the tick and everything in between.

By the Cambrian explosion (350 million years ago -more of a fast fuse really) worms had evolved into four groups; flatworms, ribbon worms, round worms and Annelida, or segmented worms. It is the Annelida that includes Lubricous terrestris, the so-called “common European earthworm”, which is hunted with such furor and fancy on the field of the Wallaston School.

Lubricous terrestris is the creature so nice they named it twice. Lubricous is Latin for ‘earthworm’ and terrestris means ‘of the earth’. In North America they are called ‘Night crawlers’, because that is when what they do is visible, or ‘Dew Worms’ because, again,  that is often when and where they are visible. But they are also called Vitials and ‘fish bait’ because that is the only value given to them by  most humans.  And initially I must admit to a certain lack of enthusiasm myself for this creature with 5 hearts, one head but no brain. However, on closer inspection, the behavior of these slimy little wigglers speaks of a creature with hidden attributes.

For example, contrary to “common knowledge”, Lubricous terrestris does not come to the surface when it rains. They come to the surface every summer night, rain or shine. They wiggle out of their shallow borrows to eat, to defecate, and to mate. And when an eagle-eyed American Robin (which is actually a wren) or a droll English black bird stomps about a lawn or garden, weaving their head back and forth, bent upon vermiphagia (worm eating), they are not charming their prey out of the ground. They are maneuvering for a better vantage point, the better to spy discretely down the narrow worm hole to spot the tasty resident slumbering the hot day away near the surface. You might even say the birds go fishing for worms.

The flashing stab of the beak is often followed by a tug of war to determine if the avian gets a meal or if Vitials earns a reprieve. When threatened, Lubricous terrestris extends minute hairs, called setae, and grabs hold of his burrow walls as if his life depended on it, which it does. The bird tugs. The worm resists. Usually the bird wins. Sometimes, if the worm is slimy enough and quick enough, the worm slides back into mother earth as if in a miniature dramatization of the novel “Dune”.

In the occasional case of a tie, occasionally everybody wins. When the worm snaps into two pieces the bird gets a protein rich meal and, if the worm keeps it's head (end) it grows a new tail, eventually. But if the remorseless carnivore gobbles down the head end or stuffs it into the upturned beaks of her offspring, the wiggling remainder left behind is pretty much worm meat..

In the heavy rain Lubricous terrestris does come to the surface during daylight; but why? The logical answer is, of course, to avoid drowning. Lacking even a single lung, Lubricous terrestrisis has no place to hold their breath. This would appear to be a serious design flaw and if Lubricous terrestris did not have such an impressive survival record I would have thought they were surely on the verge extinction; proof yet again, that evolution has no respect for human logic. But more to the logical point, as any freshwater fisherman can tell you, a Night crawler can live for a surprising long time suspended under water, perhaps indefinitely. We may never know how long they can survive submerged because what usually kills them is the enormous fishing hook jammed through their bodies; that, or hopefully, being eaten by a fish, which is quicker.

All of which begs the question: how do you “charm” such a creature? If rising to the surface in daylight is so often suicidal, why do they do it on the Wallaston School's worm pitch? The recommended technique for worm charming offers a clue. IFCWCAP Rule number seven states that, “A garden fork (in American-ese, a pitch fork) may be stuck into the ground and vibrated by any manual means to encourage worms to the surface”. The process clearly works, as proven by the legendary Tom Shufflebotham, of Chesire, England, who at the first championship in 1980, charmed 511 worms in the 30 minutes allotted time. But why did Tom’s method work so well? Not being able to ask Lubricous terrestris we can only surmise. So we shall.

As stated earlier, Lubricous terrestris has no brain, no lungs and no ears. But they are not without a perception of reality. They have rudimentary “light sensitive cells” that let them distinguish between light and dark. They are also able to use those powerful and  sensitive ‘setae’ to detect the vibrations of burrowing, ravenous grubs or even something as massive, horrifying and relentlessly hungry as a shrew or a mole. So obviously, Lubricous terrestris only leaves it's burrow in daylight when it becomes more dangerous to stay underground. So worm charming, to the worm, must resemble those wild fires set by Native Americans, which drove the terrified, stampeding buffalo over a cliff; except, of course, the worms are “put back” after they stampede to the surface of the Wallaston Primary School . Alas, the buffalo were not.

It was that venerable optimist Ann Sexton who wrote merrily on “The Flurry of Flowers and Worms”; “Bit of the field on my table, close to the worms, who struggle blinding, moving deep in their slime, moving deep into God’s abdomen, moving like oil through water, sliding through the good brown.” But this charming poetic view of our wiggly little friends’ was countered in 1923 by the far more prosaic poet William Stevens, when he gave them voice in his couplet on the Princess Badroulbadour, who had married  Aladdin in "A Thousand and One Nights”. Said Mr. Steven’s worms, “Out of the tomb, we bring Badrouldour, within our bellies, we her chariot”. The passage reveals the function of most “charming stories”, to camouflage an unpleasant reality. Worms are not likely to be “charmed” in the conventional sense by a process that mimic’s their worst terrors. You might as well describe a lion stalking a child on the African Savanna as “human charming”. But that may be taking worm charming far too seriously, which has been known to happen.

On average Lumbricus terrestrsis lives four to eight years in the wild, assuming there is no intervention from a ravenous Robin. For Earthworms seem to have a double lock on evolutionary success; they are detritvorous, and hermaphroditic. Once they reach sexual maternity, at about one year of age, Lumbricus terrestrsis wiggles from one brief sexual encounter after another, always on the surface, lining up side by side, head to tail with their “mate”. And they are indifferent as to the sex of their partner, which is okay since their partner's sex is bisexual, just like theirs.

Once their sexual organs are in joint contact, the happy pair cover themselves with a mucus wrapping and exchange eggs and sperm. They then separate, never to “see” each other again…probably, but then who the heck really knows – least of all, the worms? Eventually they produce a mucous sheath from their Clitellum (the bump about 1/3 of the way up from their tail). This slides forward over the ovum, where it captures an egg, and then over the packet of sperm, stored since the worm’s last brief encounter on a dewy summer night.

Then the Lumbricus terrestris works the entire sticky clump over its head-end and abandons it as a lemon shaped amber colored egg or cocoon in the soil. The average worm produces up to 80 cocoons in a year, which, depending on soil moisture and temperature, hatch in as little as 3 weeks, or not until next spring. And it is by this convoluted mechanism that Lumbricus terrestrsis, described by Aristotle as the “gut of the soil”, has conquered the earth, and us..

Our dependence upon worms is illustrated by Ms. Celia Warren who wrote the following lyrical amusement; “Noah let his sons go fishing, Only on the strictest terms: Sit still, keep quiet and concentrate, We’ve only got two worms”. On such a precarious foundation is the American $100 million live bait industry balanced, on the back of a creature without a spine which sells for a few pennies each even in the derivatives devalued America. And that is only the beginning of our debt to this creature underfoot. 

In High Ridge, Missouri, the Jefferson County Public Library holds an annual Worm Race, won once  by a wiggler named River. And since 2000 the “Worm Gruntuin’” festival has been a tourist attraction in Sopchoppy, Florida, including a ball and the crowning of a “Worm Gruntin’ Queen”, who, presumably, along with her other duties, is charged with droppin’ her final “g’s”. “Grunters” drive a wooden stake into the ground and “whack” it rhythmically, to coax the worms to abandon their burrows, and is probably just as effective although not nearly as attractive a sport as “Charming”.

There is a variation on “Charming” practiced in the English community of Devon which encourages the use of the stimulants outlawed in Wallaston; water, tea, beer and ale. Claims an Wallaston organizer, “The worms just get drunk and drown.”  The Devon wormers even proposed “The Olympic Worm Charming Championship” to be held in 2012 on Edlesborough Green in Devon. It was to coincide with the British Olympics, but the purists at the Wallaston school chose not to endorse this excuse to imbibe alcohol.  

More to the point, in 13 years of competition the Devin Charmers, for all their liberalization of the rules, have never come close to Tom Shufflebotham’s magic number. And the Devon group has even been accused of supporting the International Worm Liberation Front, a member of which handcuffed the chief Wallaston Primary School organizer for a time. But I suspect these “rebels” are more interested in charming their fellow humans  then in saving the charmed worms.

I suspect that before the arrival of the Worm Charming Championship in 1980,  the most important event to have occurred in the neighborhood of the Wallaston Primary School was the Great Fire of Nantwich in 1583, or perhaps the Battle of Nantwich during the English Civil War. But compared to these minor disruptions, the annual fundraiser for the 1,377 young students beside the A509 is best described as earth shaking, certainly for the worms.

The most worms ever charmed within the 30 minute time limit, were brought to the surface by 10 year old Sophie Smith, on 27 June, 2009. But global warming had an impact on the 2019 winner, who was James Martin, who was only able to pull 11 wigglies out of the parched soil. They will do this again in 2020, sometime in June - the date is not yet set. But you could attend. Gates opened at one, (admission is one pound), and you could claim a charming plot by paying five pounds. But the assignment of a specific plot was made by a random drawing. Charming begins promptly at two, and the official count began at 2:30. The Trophy, :”…in the shape of a golden rampant worm”, will be awarded at four.  In 2011 the most worms charmed was 256, (Dave and Sam Ashman) and the heaviest (and a record setter) at 12 and 8/100ths grams was charmed by daughter Amy and father Nick Sproston. So now everyone can get started training for next year. I'll bet the worms will be ready. To enter you may contact Mike Forrester at chiefwormer@wormcharming.com. And I hope you do.

- 30 -

LIVE BAIT Part Two

I find it curious that there are no professional worm charmers at the Wallaston Primary School competition,  considering the mercenary foundation of the sport. In 1980 then headmaster, Mr. John Bailey, was searching for a way to raise funds for the school. Dances were too stodgy and fraught with the threat of the uncontrolled social interaction the English so dread. The school was already holding bake sales and silent auctions. What was needed, Headmaster Bailey decided, was something new, perhaps the drama of a competition. But, being British, it would have to be a non-competitive competition, something like cricket, in which two teams may engage in a fierce match that often leads to a long drawn out draw.

In addition, the competition had to be non-weather dependant, given the generally damp and gray English version of summer. And it had to be something which would encourage participation while discouraging physical contact, in order to avoid lawsuits and insurance complications. Furthermore, the event must avoid encouraging any excess of enthusiasm. The British already have soccer hooligans,

What the Headmaster was looking for was a "clean" sport with a minimum of set up and cleanup time, and which would use the facilities the school already processed. Ideally there should be no rentals, no leases and no veterinarian fees or protests from animal rights groups. In fact he felt any non-human participates must be creatures whose demise, even if it were to be bisected in full view of the public, might bring a smile to the lips of the average English antivivisectionists. To paraphrase Sherlock Holmes, having eliminated all other creatures, the worms beneath the schools “pitch”, or cricket field, seemed the obvious choice.

An observer of the competition on “Charming Day” noted contestants who were  “…tap dancing with magnifying glasses, and (the) “…hum of a didgeridoo (has even been heard)”. Some contestants have tried meditation, playing cellos, tapping bongo drums. even mounting and riding a plush horses. “ 

Some hammer the ground with plastic tubes, or, using, of course, plastic hammers. Others push a garden fork into the turf and strike it. Others may play deep notes on a double bass, or tempt the worms with the music of a mouth organ. One person, in an inflatable fat suit, circles around on stilts. I hope the worms can see him but I doubt it.”

They can’t. And even if they could, it is unlikely that Lumbricus terrestris would be amused. I can state with little fear of contradiction; worms have no sense of humor. When your existence consists of burrowing through mud and litter, and being chased by moles and robins,and now human beings  dressed as pirates,  of what use is humor? Or for that matter, of what use is a rope?

Thus it is even unlikely that the worms would enjoy the not so ancient verse that sings,

“First you’re sick, and then your worse,

and then it’s time to call the hearse.

They put you in the cold, cold ground,

with all your relatives standing round.

And all goes well for about a week.

And then the coffin begins to leak.

The worms crawl in and the worms crawl out,

the worms play pinochle on your snout.

They eat your eyes, they eat your nose,

they eat the jelly between your toes.

Your eyes fall in and your hair falls out.

Your brains come dribbling through your snout.

The worms crawl in are lean and thin.

The worms crawl out are fat and stout.”

It is not a cheerful poem, but it is descriptive.

Compare that ditty with the tribute in verse provided by Mr. Andrew Rudd (above), the first (and so far the only) official poet laureate for the World Worm Charming Championship. “Come, come to me, blind-lurker, burrower, mulch-eater, twist-curler, soft survivor, ….flexible friend, cranny-squeezer, shade-lover, moist drinker, dew-sipper, …humble worm, mortal worm, beak-tugger, bird-resister, …tiny miner, soil-sapper, spaghetti loop, micro-gut,…muscle-ringed, knot-twister, cold-sleeper,…neglected, ignored, come, come to my, charm.” It could almost be set to an atonal Nursery Rhyme.

But why is it that no one has ever surpassed or even tied the magic number of 511 worms achieved by legendary Tom Shufflebotham almost 40 years ago? Could it be that the worms are trying to tell us something about global warming? (What, them too?) Could it be that the worms on the pitch of the Wallaston County Primary School have grown smarter over the last 40 years? Or, could it be that the Wallaston pitch has been “over charmed”? Worrying also is that the heaviest worm charmed in the history of the competition was back in 1987, a 6.6 gram monster, brought down by the suspiciously named Mr. N. Burrows.

The second year of competition saw just 302 worms charmed by the winner (Mr. M. Bennion) and in 1983 Mr. S. Goodwin could only corral a mere  217 a worms to claim victory. 1983 saw a brief return to abundance when Mrs. C. Paul was able to capture 248 wigglers to claim the top trophy, but the middle eighties were a time of slimy scarcity. Over the three years, 1984 through 1986 inclusive, just 184 worms graced the winner’s buckets. In 1987 and '88 the school pitch bounced back with 214 and 265 worms, but the decade ended with a pathetic 79. And the last time any supreme contestant even topped 400 worms was Miss G. Neville in 1993, (487). And the average since the dawn of the 21st century is just 243 worms per year, well under half of Mr. Shufflebotham’s truly Babe Ruthian catch.

Still, the evident decline in worm numbers has not led to a decline in competition. In 2003 there was a tie with two plots each producing 167 Lumbricus terrestris. In accordance with the rules, the Gordian knot was severed with a five minute “Charm off”. Lea Clark and Robert Oltram (plot 134) were able to draw out a further 13 worms, but Richard and Rodney Windsor (plot 131) captured a triumphant 14 worms to their bucket, and were declared the official winners. Five years later and the village is still abuzz about that hair's-breath victory. But whither the future charming? We shall ask that question, and a few others, in our final chapter of Live Bait

- 30 -

LIVE BAIT - Part One

I am sorely disappointed with sport. The celebrated “Tour de France” has become a sprint for a drug-testing-urine stained yellow jersey.  American baseball and English football seem more pharmaceutical than fantastic, You'd get lousy odds that basketball referees are still entirely trustworthy. And the epitome of “pure sport”, the Olympics, has morphed into a five star marketing tool for GlaxoSmithKline. Sport for the sheer joy of competition seems to have  made its final stand on the humble playing field of the Wallaston County Primary School, in Natwich, Cheshire, England.

In this tiny village of 2,310 souls, one fish-and-chips shop and two hairdressing salons is held the annual hunt for the wily and wild Lubricous terrestris, watched closely, as one observer noted, by a few hundred amused humans and thousands of fascinated birds. And there is not a single endorsement contract in sight. This is pure sport, a contest so pure that water is considered a "performance enhancing drug". I am, of course,  speaking about the World Worm Charming Championships.

The International Federation of Charming Worms and Allied Pastimes (or IFCWAP, pronounced "If Cap") has only 18 rules. Each “worm pitch” is a 3 meter by 3 meter box of manicured lawn, chosen by a random draw. In each pitch two contestants (a charmer and a “Gillie”) may use any method of their choice to entice as many worms from the soil as they can within 30 minutes -  with the proviso that they may not dig or turn the soil in any way and they may not apply any liquid, especially water.  Copies of these simple rules are available in 30 languages, including Tibetan, even though there is no record that anyone speaking Tibetan has ever even applied to enter the championships.

The true charm of the sport is illustrated by rule 18, which states that all “charmed worms (are) to be released only after the birds have gone to roost on the evening of the event.” Rule 18 is only one of the ways in which “Worm Charming” is differentiated from its more barbaric English cousin, “Fox Hunting”. The others are are that there are no horses and the dogs in worm calling.

In fact, there is no record of any creature, human or worm, being injured during this event, although the Darwin Awards does provide an unconfirmed incident in Norway in October 2002. The subject in this incident, a 23 year old human male, presumably in preparation for the competition in Natwich, tested an experimental electrical charming device by inserting one electrode into the ground while he held  the second in his hand. while sitting on a metal bucket. Because of the shocking lack of notations taken by this unnamed  experimenter it is impossible to say if any worms were actually charmed. At the most, it may be surmised, they were bemused.

In fact the use of electricity to attract earthworms has been something of a "Holy Grail" as long as humans have been touching positive to negative. U.S. patent #1932237 was granted in October 1933 for an electric “Device for use in catching earth worms, insects, and the like”. This innovation was followed in October of 1948 by patent #2450597, which was granted for an “Earth worm disgorging device”. August of 1952 saw patient #2607164 for an “Electric device to bring earth-worms to the surface of the ground”. Patent #2770075 was granted in November 1956 for an “Electric bait getter”.  This was succeeded by patient #3763593 (10/'73) for an “Apparatus for bringing earthworms to the surface of the ground”, the “Worm Rod” (patient # 3793770  granted in February of 1974).

The crowded field has become so advanced that on February 29, 1988 the Consumer Product Safety Commission even filed a complaint against P&M Enterprises of Caldwell, Idaho, demanding a recall of the “Worm Gett’r”. (No longer available.) Officially, since 1971, 23 products of the American education system have died while using commercially sold “worm extractor systems”, but in truth only God knows how many other intrepid inventors and electrically inclined souls who were too cheap to pay $5 for a dozen worms have gone to that great worm pitch in the sky. The Internet is yet still crowded with geniuses, each so thrilled and excited by their own inventiveness,  that they are willing to risk their lives to outsmart a protein tube with no brain. At least the contestants at the Wallaston County Primary are merely risking their dignity, as no electricity is allowed in the Worm Charming Championships.

- 30 -

DECINE AND FALL. Written History Begins

I must begin by telling you about a man who lived a life almost completely un-examined. He was Prince William Henry von Hanover (above), younger brother of the English King George III, who lost America. William dreamed of being a great general, and wore uniforms braided with gold. But nobody was ever foolish enough to let him near a battlefield. He spent most of his life not impressing much of anybody, supervising the constant renovations of his various estates and fathering children, occasionally with his wife. But William did say one revealing thing, and that to the historian, Edward Gibbon.

Gibbon was the only survivor of six siblings, and his parents did not appreciate the boy's persistence. He described himself as “..."a puny child, neglected by my mother...” His father only showed interest when, in 1753, the boy converted to Catholicism. The threat of disinheritance produced a re-conversion to the Church of England, but did not inspire a respect for Christianity. Edward would later write, “I know but of one religion in which the god and the victim are the same.”

After his father's death in 1770, Edward moved to London, where the great writer James Boswell described him (accurately) as an, “ ugly...disgusting fellow”. Gibbon's excessive vanity tended to rub other vain men the wrong way.  And his love of expensive and fancy clothes just made things worse.  

Then in late 1774, he began writing one of the greatest history books in history, the monumental “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire”.  During his youth having combed the Roman archives at the Tabularium, which still stood at the base of the Capitoline Hill in Rome, and closely read the contemporary historians, Edward was uniquely qualified to pierce the vale of a millennium of the Christian Church's obfuscations and justifications. When the first volume of “Decline...” was published in 1776, “...though greatly admired, it was immediately attacked on account of the offensive chapters in it respecting Christianity.”  It still made Edward Gibbon rich in his own right, and famous.

In 1781 Edward published the second and third volumes of his history, and that fall he gave a “presentation copy” to Prince William (above). By then many of the English “”snobility” had noted what they saw as Edward's “implacable hostility to Christianity”.  Laying the heavy tome aside – probably the last time he touched the book - Prince William said, “Another damned big black book, Mr. Gibbon. Scribble, scribble, scribble - eh, Mr. Gibbon?'' 

In that arrogant ignorance Gibbon must have seen the shadow of one of the most infamous characters in his most recent volume, the “...feeble nonentity" of the Roman Emperor, Flavius Honorius Augustus (above) - the man who lost Rome to the Visigoths.

You see, about the time of the birth of the current era 2,000 years ago, something happened in Scandinavia. It may have been an early effect of global warming, but I suspect it was the invention of the missionary position. Whatever the proximate cause, the place suddenly had more people than it could feed. Those not prone to motion sickness built boats and became Vikings. Those who preferred a firm footing, the Goths,  filtered south into Germania.

Not having been invited, these Nordic interlopers were forced to murder, burn and pillage their way south through the various Germanic tribes, looking in vain for a welcome mat and dragging their families and belongings along in wagons. When able or forced to pause they would circle their wagons into a mobile fort or a “laager”.   

Eventually they crossed the Carpathian mountains and reached the province of Dracia, north of the Danube River – modern Romania. That's when the Romans – and Edward Gibbon – named them the Visigoths, or the Western Goths.

These Visigoths, most of whom I assume were good people, scared the living hell out of the Roman general and Emperor Theodosius.  He had just managed to stitch the broken empire back together again, by allying with the growing Christian church. Now these pagans came rampaging out of the woods, threatening to upset the table. 

So in 382 A.D, Theodosius allowed the Visigoths to occupy land south of the Danube River. In exchange the Visigoths converted to Christianity, enlisted as “foederati”, or Roman trained militia, and even paid taxes. However, the western Christians did not take a liking to their new brethren.

See, the Emperor Constantine had been baptized (above) on his death bed in 337 A.D.  Back then 2/3rds of the senior Roman bureaucracy were still “pagans”.  However, thirty years later, under the “Theodosian Decrees” new hires were now required to convert. 

As Mr Gibbon noted in his “damned big black book”, by the time Theodosius died, in January of 395 C.E. , “The Church offered 'the officer class' an alternative career... one superior in rewards of status, wealth and power...the priesthood...By and large, the bishops of western Europe were the old Roman aristocracy wearing a new hat.” And as the new century approached, they began a civil war against their fellow Christians.

So the Empire divided again. Theodosius's eldest son, Arcadia, became Emperor in Constantinople, supported by what became the Eastern Orthodox Church. 

His younger brother, 11 year old Flavius Honorius (above), became Western Emperor in Milan (capital since 286) in on the plains of northern Italy.  Honorius was supported by what was becoming the Catholic Church.  So, the hierarchy of both churches controlled their Emperors, and saw the opposition as heretics. And as soon as it was convenient, in 400 A.D., the Catholic courtiers around Honorious, like the “ ...worm tongued...” religious fanatic named Olympius, reneged on their deal with the Visigoths.

Their excuse was that the Visigoths had been baptized in the eastern church, which did not accept the Catholic Trinity (above) – the idea that God was at once the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Advised by Olympus, “Honorius excluded all persons who were adverse to the catholic church...” 

So, no more tribute for Visigoth leaders, and no more hiring of Visigoth Generals to lead Visigoth troops in Roman service, something they had been doing for 20 years, and kept doing for Constantinople. The result was the western empire now faced a large, angry, unemployed Roman trained Visigoth army just outside of Italy. What could possibly go wrong?

The only remaining Roman legions were stationed on the Rhine and in Britain. Learning the Visigoths were marching on Milan, the general whom Theodosius had hired to watch over young Honorius, the Vandal named Stilicho, ordered the British legions to march for the capital. But it would take them 6 months to reach Italy. Meanwhile, as Gibbon explained, “...pride and luxury...” sedated Honorious and Olympious, and “...concealed the impending danger till (the Visigoths) approached the palace of Milan.”

The panicked Catholics hustled their adolescent Emperor out of Milan (above),  closely followed by the pissed off Visigoth cavalry, who trapped the Imperial party in the little fortress village of Hasta, near the Italian azure coast. Then, at almost the very last second, Stilicho rode to the rescue with the advance guard of the legions from the Rhine - maybe 10,000 men. The Visigoths vastly outnumbered the Romans, but then they weren't looking for a fight. They just wanted to get paid. So they pulled back and started looting the countryside.

The Catholic's now needed a hole into which to stash their rescued Emperor. The only logical choice seemed to be a town of 30,000 on the Adriatic called Ravenna (above). 

Gibbon described it as being much like Venice – a city established just 2 years earlier and 90 miles to the north. Altho its harbor had silted up in the 400 years since Caesar Augustus had established the town surrounded by swamps, a mile long canal now re-connected Ravenna to the sea. The city was  “..divided into a variety of small islands...the houses...were raised on the foundation of wooden piles...” It had an aqueduct to bring in fresh water, and a large fortified naval base nearby, where the eastern empire navy stood ready  to whisk the western Emperor away from danger.  So, in 402 A.D., “...in the twentieth year of his age, the emperor of the West...retired to the perpetual confinement of the walls and morasses of Ravenna.” He now spent his time raising racing pigeons.

In March of that same year, the legions from Britain finally arrived, and on Sunday, 6 April, Stilicho attacked the larger Visigoth army while they were attending Easter sunrise services. The Romans overran the Visigoth Laager, capturing their women and children. In exchange for their families' lives, the Visigoths agreed to leave. And, with a little kick in the butt at Verona, they limped over the Julian Alps and out of Italy. For the time being.

But, Gibbon observed, “ ...such was the feeble and exhausted state of the empire...” in 403 the pagan Ostrogoths – the eastern Goths – smelled opportunity , invaded Italy and in 404 sacked Florence. Stilicho was able to drive them off with the help of German foederati.  

But his success unnerved Olympius, and later that same year, the Greek adviser engineered the massacre of tens of thousands of German women and children in towns all over northern Italy. Honorious barely looked up from his dovecote, but the tragedy sent 30,000 bitter German soldiers into the Visigoth army.

Thus reinforced, in 405 A.D., the Visigoths demanded 4,000 pounds of gold to finance their attack against some place else besides Italy. Stilicho advised Honorius to pay the ransom, but at least one Christian Roman Senator objected, calling the offer, "...not a treaty of peace, but of servitude” 

Olympious now began to whisper “...many bitter expressions” in the Emperor's ear about his military nurse maid. Honorius, suspiciously tugging on his short and scraggly beard, already resented Stilicho for his interruptions of the training of his imperial homers and hens. He was more than willing to believe Olympious' lies that Stilicho wanted to wear his purple robes. The Emperor was even persuaded to promote Olympius to Master of Offices, putting him in control of the entire Imperial government.

Then, in early August of 408 A.D. Honorious and Olympious journeyed to Tictinum, north of Milan - modern day Pavia - to supposedly pay homage to the victorious army and its general. Their arrival was followed by news of a hick up in the Senate's (above) approval of the Visigoth treaty. So on 10 August, Stilicho left the army's encampment to ride the 175 miles to Ravenna, to push the treaty forward. 

The day after he left, Honorious ordered all German foederati commanders to attend a conference with him. As Olympious expected, none did. That convinced the Emperor of their treasonous intentions. The next day, 13 August, 408, the Christian officers murdered all the top Roman military commanders, Roman and German, pagan and Christian, who were loyal to Stilicho. “Many lives were lost, many houses were plundered,” says Gibbon.

Stilicho reached Ravenna, on 22 August, followed closely by accounts of the massacre. Now trapped alone in the enemy camp, the general sought sanctuary in one of Ravenna's churches. 

After dark, a guard carrying an arrest warrant arrived. The officers assured the bishop of Ravenna their intention was merely to detain the general and hold him for trial. With that understanding, the Bishop allowed the soldiers to enter the church.  Rather than disturb the holy place, Stilicho peacefully surrendered. 

But the moment he left the church, new orders, signed by Honorious, were revealed. Stilicho was now being charged with sacrilege for having attacked the Visigoths on holy Easter morning. And immediately, the last great general of the Western Roman empire was beheaded. Later his wife Serena and their children were tortured. When they failed to provide Olympious with evidence Stilicho's treason, Serena was strangled and the boys were clubbed to death.

The result was sadly predictable. Early in 409 the Visigoths invaded Italy again, this time marching across the Julian Alps and avoiding Ravenna. Rather they marched directly on Rome. But first, they took its port of Ostia, capturing a years worth of grain, and used that to feed themselves while they laid siege to the city.  

Having proven all generals were untrustworthy, Olympious was now forced to take command himself. But as a soldier the Master of Plotters was no match the Visigoth generals, and when he failed to relive the holy city of Rome, other court plotters followed his lead and began warning Honorious about Olypmious' ambition. The Greek knew he was now destined to the same fate he had delivered to Stilicho. Early in 410, Olympious slipped across the Adriatic to Dalmatia - what is today the southern coast of Croatia -  and went into hiding. Two years later he was captured and beaten to death by friends of Stilicho.

Faced with a power vacuum, Honorious vowed to defend Rome, declaring “I will attend to the barbarians.” But he did not. He was frozen, “...vacillating between diffidence and defiance,” each making the other worse. Meanwhile the common citizens of Rome were starving. 

As the social order within the city began to crumble the Bishop of Rome, Innocent I, seems to have stepped up. He was the son of the previous Pope, Anastasius, and had begun to call himself Pope.  But he was a far better leader than Honorious. Innocent created Rome's supremacy through his practical and reasoned advice on doctrine and practice, until he was called the “Doctor of the Church”. And his solution to the siege was supremely practical. He paid off the Visigoths and then he surrendered.

Their price had gone up of course, to cover the cost of the invasion and their insulted pride. The Church and city now had to cough up 500 pounds of gold, and accept an occupation. On 24 August 410, they opened the Salarian, or salt gate through the city's western wall (above), allowing the Visigoths to walk through. 

  But, despite the Church's parable about the sins of "pagan" Rome causing its fall,  Rome was not sacked. It was occupied by a disciplined army. St. Peters and St. Pauls churches were not burned. No rich person's homes were invaded. 

The only public buildings "looted" were the mausoleums of the pagan Roman Emperors, like Augustus and Hadrian. There were rapes, and some thefts. But the only people sold off into slavery were the poor and usually pagans. The bigger blow to the Christian ruling class was psychological. As St. Jerome, put it, after 800 years of dominance "...the city which had taken the whole world was itself taken."

The historian Procopoius, says it was a flustered royal eunuch who informed Honorius that Rome fallen. The Emperor was stunned for a moment. Tears welled up in this eyes and he cried out in anguish, “And yet it has just eaten from my hands!” The eunuch, realizing his master thought he was referring to the favorite royal pigeon cock, named “Rome,” quickly explained he had meant the eternal city. Honorius was greatly relieved. Or so the story goes. Gibbon did not believe Procopoius's story. But it could have been true. Honorius remained little more than an “...ill-informed spectator...” because that is what the Catholic Church and the aristocracy wanted him to be. 

As Gibbon (above) pointed out,  the Rome which fell had been aggressively Christian since the “Theodosian Decrees”, 30 years earlier, and exclusively Christian by law since 14 November, 408.  The generations ( some 500 years) of ignorance and fear which followed the fall of the Roman Empire, known as the Dark Ages,  might not have been the goal of the Church, but it was a product of their efforts. “Now the followers of the old (pagan) faith almost threatened to shout...‘christianos ad leones’. “Christians to the lions!” But the church made certain it was too late to go back.

Honorius (above) died on 25 August, 423, suffering from edema – fluid build caused by lack of exercise. Gibbon lowered the curtain on his bland protagonist in the 29^th chapter of “Decline and Fall” this way. “The son of Theodosius passed the slumber of his life, a captive in his palace, a stranger in his country, and the patient, almost the indifferent, spectator of the ruin of the Western empire... In the eventful history of a reign of twenty-eight years, it will seldom be necessary to mention the name of the emperor Honorius.” 

The church buried their faithful servant on Vatican Hill in Rome, but his small crypt (above) was demolished in 1506 during construction of the new St. Peter's church..

Volume IV of “Decline and Fall...” was published in June, 1784. It took Edward 4 more years to finish the last 3 volumes, dealing with the Byzantine Empire, which went to press in May of 1788. And then, when the last drops of knowledge had been squeezed from his bloated body, Edward Gibbon died on 16 January, of 1794. He was just 56 years old. At his death he was called the "English giant of the Enlightenment", but even today the “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire” is not read as much as it should be. It's just such a “...damned big black book.”  Seven of them, actually.

- 30 -