Author: AdamAH

by

Roman Ghosts – Sentries of the Saxon Shore

Salvete, Readers!

Today we have our second post in the Roman Ghosts series, and this one is guaranteed to give you shivers.

If you missed the first post about Shades in Eburacum, you can check it out by CLICKING HERE.

Many of you have written to us about Roman ghost sightings in the UK, and we are keen to research them and share with everyone. Rest assured, they’re all on the list! Today’s post comes by way of a tip from Eagles and Dragons reader, Michael Dennis.

Aerial view of Reculver

This particular look at Roman ghosts takes us to Reculver on the Kentish coast in England, in particular a site on the promontory at the mouth of the Watsum Channel, facing the Isle of Thanet.

Before we get into the spectral sightings associated with this remote location, we should, of course, look briefly at the history of the place.

Reculver was the site of Roman Regulbium which comes from the Celtic name meaning ‘at the promontory’.

It was on this site during the Claudian invasion of Britain in A.D. 43 that a Roman fortlet was first built. Tense times in the land, of course. Eventually, the fort was connected by road to the settlement of Durovernum, modern Canterbury.

Remains of the Roman walls of Regulbium

Eventually, in the late second century, a larger Roman castrum was built on the site, and this included a basilica as part of the principia (headquarters building), barracks, a bathhouse, and even a nearby oven which was located outside the walls. The walls themselves were almost fifteen feet high and ten feet thick. Sadly, much of the fort has been lost to the sea and erosion.

What does remain are two of the Roman towers which were incorporated into the early medieval Saxon church of St. Mary’s. More on these towers later…

The Notitia Dignitatum, the great Roman administrative document of the early fifth century, indicates that the Cohors I Baetasiorum was stationed at Regulbium. These troops of the Baetasii tribe inhabiting the lands between the Rhine and the Meuse, in Germania Inferior, were a good distance from their homes.

Regulbium was apparently abandoned after A.D. 360, but from what we have been reading, it may well be that some of the troops never went home.

Map of the fort showing how much has been lost to erosion and the sea.

Try and imagine a soldier, or a cohort of soldiers, based in a specific location for an extended period of time. Routine and disciplina, as the Romans called it, were central to a soldier’s life. Sometimes they lived and died in a specific place, had families, lost loved ones, took life and shed blood.

Well, in Regulbium to this day, it seems that some of the Roman soldiers are determined to keep to their schedules and their posts.

There have been many reports of Roman soldiers seen on patrol at Reculver fort (Regulbium) or keeping ghostly sentry duty there, so much so that visitors, even in summer, claim that there is something very ‘wrong’ about the place.

Apparently, the site of the Roman fort is so haunted that it has become a destination for amateur ghost hunters!

Artist impression of Regulbium

But it isn’t just the ghosts of groups of Roman soldiers on patrol that people have reported seeing. There have also been chilling reports of a lone Roman soldier standing stolidly at his sentry post somewhere between the two remaining towers that stand there to this day.

What might the shade of that Roman be looking out for? A returning patrol? Raiding Saxon ships coming into the isle between the fort and Thanet?

Who knows? One thing is for sure, there are more than just the shades of Roman soldiers lurking around the fort.

There have also been numerous reports of phantom babies crying on the wind when people have visited the fort!

One might think that this is just the gusting wind playing tricks on visitors to the fort. Then again, perhaps not.

The remaining towers of Regulbium, incorporated into the church of St. Mary’s

When excavations were carried out at the fort, the burials of ten infants were found within the fort itself, and six of these were associated with specifically Roman buildings.

There are some theories that the infants were part of a ritual sacrifice there, but it is not known if they were dead already (stillborn), or if they were killed as part of the ritual.

Seeing as Romans more or less frowned on human sacrifice (apart from in the arena), the slaying of babies does seem to be a bit of a stretch, but one never knows. Perhaps the Baetasii tribe from the Rhine region did that sort of thing, perhaps not.

Either way, the remains of infants have been found, and whatever the circumstances of their deaths, it seems likely that the wailing of their little shades at the fort would be enough to turn the legs of the toughest legionary to mush.

Have you been to the ruins of Regulbium? Would you go after reading this?

I’m not sure I would.

The towers of Reculver from the current beach.

We hope you’ve enjoyed this second post in the Roman Ghosts series. For more information on the haunted site you can check out the book Haunted Kent, by Janet Cameron.

For information about the archaeology and ruins of Roman Regulbium, you can check out the Historic England page by CLICKING HERE.

Remember, if you know of any Roman ghost stories in any part of the former Roman Empire that you would like to share, just send us an email through the Contact Uspage of the website and we’ll look into it.

Thank you for reading!

Facebooktwitterpinterest
by

Ancient Everyday – Pets in Ancient Rome

Salvete Romanophiles!

We’re back for a new Ancient Everyday post. If you missed the last one on coinage in the Roman world, you can check it out HERE.

This week, we’re looking at pets in the Roman world, and let me tell you, this turned out to be a much bigger, more complex topic than I had imagined! So, this will be something of an introduction to a topic that could well take up an entire book.

A quick shout-out to Jenny Villar who suggested this topic.

The first thing most of us picture when we think of animals in ancient Rome is no doubt the display bloody entertainment in amphitheatres like the Colosseum. But that is only part of the picture.

Before we discuss household pets, we should first take a look at the relationship ancient Romans actually had with animals.

Romans, it seems, were absolutely fascinated with animals!

They also had a strange, contradictory relationship with animals. They admired and were in awe of wildlife, and yet they used them to death, quite literally.

Animals served many purposes in the Roman world.

We have already alluded to entertainments in the amphitheatres and circuses of the Empire where any number of grisly pairings of beasts took place. But this category would also have included using animals for hunting (as both hunter and prey), in the wild or in the arena. Romans loved to watch animals be hunted, fight, and be killed, whether in the amphitheatre, or a private cock-fighting pit.

Animals were also labourers in the city, the countryside, and in the ranks of Rome’s legions across the Empire as beasts of burden and more.

One area that is sometimes overlooked is the use of animals for religious purposes. Animals were sacrificed to the gods on a daily basis for a variety of reasons, and were often specifically bred for this purpose. As examples, only the whitest of doves might have been offered to Venus, Goddess of Love, or the blackest of sheep to chthonic gods such as Dis.

Relief of a Suovetaurilia ceremony

Animals were also used as ornaments in the Roman world, especially in the homes and villas of the rich and powerful. The emperors Domitian and Caracalla are both said to have had pet lions that followed them around, and some wealthy Romans even had elephants, the most exotic symbol of Roman power, to transport them to dinner parties.

What the valet slave would do with that, I don’t know!

What seems apparent is that exotic animals were as much a show of Roman wealth and power as the most expensive jewels, and some rich Romans had gardens filled with various exotic animals – a sort of ancient equivalent to a nineteenth-century menagerie.

Included in the long list of animals that appeared in the amphitheatres or homes of the Roman world were parrots, ostriches, monkeys, lions, leopards, lynxes, tigers, elephants, rhinos from Asia and Africa, and more.

Tombstone of a young girl with her dog

But we’re here to discuss animals as pets, specifically. In doing so, we might expect the usual array of animals we’re familiar with today, but, as ever, the Romans have put a twist on things for us. For instance, some children were said to have had pet goats or deer who were sometimes hooked up to little wagons or carts to pull them around.

We’ll go through a few of the animals that were said to have been kept as pets in ancient Rome.

Snakes. Let’s just get this one out of the way now. Yes. The Romans had pet snakes. In fact, the idea of a household with a resident snake is quite ancient.

In the ancient world, snakes were not only useful in destroying vermin such as mice and rats. They were also sacred, and strongly associated with healing. Think of the god Asclepius who is often pictured with a snake around a staff, that symbol which has been adopted by the medical profession.

In ancient Greece, many households had a snake which acted as a sort of household guardian. In fact, in certain parts of the Mediterranean to this day, it is considered bad luck to kill a snake.

In ancient Rome, emperors had sent to Epidaurus and the Sanctuary of Asclepius there for some of the sacred snakes used in healing, and these were kept on Tiber Island. The emperors Tiberius, Nero, and Elagabalus all kept snakes.

Now, whether or not the residents of Suburan tenement blocks kept snakes, I’m not sure. One hears of people with pet snakes today, so I imagine the idea is not so far-fetched.

 

Fish were also kept as pets, but these appear to have been something relegated to the upper classes who had the space and land for large fish ponds. One wonders how attached some became to these fish, for surely they would have ended up on the tricliniumtable at some point.

Sparrow! my pet’s delicious joy,
Wherewith in bosom nurst to toy
She loves, and gives her finger-tip
For sharp-nib’d greeding neb to nip,
Were she who my desire withstood
To seek some pet of merry mood,
As crumb o’ comfort for her grief,
Methinks her burning lowe’s relief:
Could I, as plays she, play with thee,
That mind might win from misery free!
…
To me t’were grateful (as they say),
Gold codling was to fleet-foot May,
Whose long-bound zone it loosed for aye.

(Catullus, Lesbia’s Sparrow)

Birds appear to have been much more popular a pet in ancient Rome than they are today. In the quote above, we hear from Catullus about Lesbia’s sparrow, or ‘passer’, which she adores.

When it comes to birds, with the length and breadth of the Empire, there was opportunity for an impressive array of species from ducks and geese to ostriches, peacocks, budgies and parrots. In the case of the latter, things get a bit odd when one considers the fact that parrot tongues were something of a delicacy. Again, the contradictory relationship Romans had with their animals.

One popular pastime was, of course, cock fighting. This still goes on in certain parts of the world today, but in ancient Rome, it was also a sport for the upper classes. Plutarch describes how Octavianus always beat Mark Antony at cock fighting:

…we are told that whenever, by way of diversion, lots were cast or dice thrown to decide matters in which they were engaged, Antony came off worsted. They would often match cocks, and often fighting quails, and Caesar’s would always be victorious. (Plutarch, Life of Antony)

I suppose Octavian had to be better at something than Mark Antony, and I imagine that it rankled Marcus Antonius to have Octavianus’ cock beat his own.

Anyway…moving on…

Cock fighting was a popular pastime.

Now we come to the felines of the Empire.

Certainly, exotic big cats were prized in the arenas and menageries, and we have already mentioned Domitian and Caracalla’s pet lions.

But let’s talk about cats as we know them. Today, cats are a very popular pet, but in the world of ancient Rome, they were not so adored as you might expect. Birds and dogs were more popular than cats, though if you walk the streets of Rome or Athens today, you’d think cats had taken over the world.

In ancient Rome, cats served a more utilitarian purpose. They were kept as pets, but it was more for the purpose of catching vermin. There were plenty of mice and rats to go around in Rome, of that we can be sure, though there is mention of another use. The ancient writer Palladius points out that the cattus (Palladius was apparently the first to use the word ‘cattus’) was very good for catching moles in artichoke beds!

I didn’t even know moles liked artichokes.

There was of course one part of the Empire where cats were revered above all other animals, and that was Egypt. Cats were sacred there, and in my research I even read that when cats were smuggled out of Egypt, a ransom was paid to get them back! I wonder if some entrepreneurial Romans ever created a cat-ransom racket to take advantage of the Egyptians’ love of felines?

Of course we cannot discuss animals in the Roman Empire without touching on what was considered a most noble animal – the horse.

Horses were extremely important in the ancient world. Not only were they used as beasts of burden and farm animals, but they were also essential on military campaign as pack animals or in the ranks as auxiliary cavalry.

They were also central to entertainment in the Roman world as chariot racing in the hippodromes of the Empire, like the Circus Maximus in Rome, was the most popular sport around. You can read more about chariot racing HERE. Champion horses were well-treated and even received a pension and luxurious retirement at the end of their careers.

Mosaic of a victorious chariot team

Horses were pets too, and one of the main activities for those in the countryside, rich and poor, was riding for leisure.

Probably one of the most famous instances of a pet horse from the Roman world is Caligula’s horse Incitatus. Suetonius goes into some detail:

He used to send his soldiers on the day before the games and order silence in the neighbourhood, to prevent the horse Incitatusfrom being disturbed. Besides a stall of marble, a manger of ivory, purple blankets and a collar of precious stones, he even gave this horse a house, a troop of slaves and furniture, for the more elegant entertainment of the guests invited in his name; and it is also said that he planned to make him consul. (Suetonius, Life of Caligula)

Statue thought to be a representation of Caligula and his favourite horse, Incitatus

We’ve looked at a few species of animal that were popular among ancient Romans as pets, but none of those mentioned above were more popular as pets in the ancient world than dogs.

As far as pets, dogs were the favourite, and they had an age-old relationship with humans. They were friends, workers, and family members. Dogs were even worthy of serving the gods – think of Diana and her hunting hounds.

The Goddess Diana and one of her hounds

The oldest mention of a dog by name is in the Odyssey when there is reference to Odysseus’ dog, Argus.

‘This dog,’ answered Eumaios, ‘belonged to him who has died in a far country. If he were what he was when Odysseus left for Troy, he would soon show you what he could do. There was not a wild beast in the forest that could get away from him when he was once on its tracks. But now he has fallen on evil times, for his master is dead and gone, and the women take no care of him. Servants never do their work when their master’s hand is no longer over them, for Zeus takes half the goodness out of a man when he makes a slave of him.’

So saying he entered the well-built mansion, and made straight for the riotous pretenders in the hall. But Argos passed into the darkness of death, now that he had fulfilled his destiny of faith and seen his master once more after twenty years. (Homer, The Odyssey, Book 17)

There were different breeds for different purposes in ancient Rome. There were dogs for entertainment, fighting in the arena. These dogs were known as canes pugnaces. There were dogs in the Roman army, usually a breed of mastiff, and also for use as guard dogs.

A modern Maltese – the closest breed to the Roman lap dog

The Roman agriculture writer, Grattius, goes into some detail about various breeds of dogs:

Dogs belong to a thousand lands and they each have characteristics derived from their origin. The Median dog, though undisciplined, is a great fighter, and great glory exalts the far-distant Celtic dogs. Those of the Geloni, on the other hand, shirk a combat and dislike fighting, but they have wise instincts: the Persian is quick in both respects. Some rear Chinese dogs, a breed of unmanageable ferocity; but the Lycaonians, on the other hand, are easy-tempered and big in limb. The Hyrcanian dog, however, is not content with all the energy belonging to his stock: the females of their own will seek unions with wild beasts in the woods: Venus grants them meetings and joins them in the alliance of love. Then the savage paramour wanders safely amid the pens of tame cattle, and the bitch, freely daring to approach the formidable tiger, produces offspring of nobler blood. The whelp, however, has headlong courage: you will find him a‑hunting in the very yard and growing at the expense of much of the cattle’s blood. Still you should rear him: whatever enormities he has placed to his charge at home, he will obliterate them as a mighty combatant on gaining the forest. But that same Umbrian dog which has tracked wild beasts flees from facing them. Would that with his fidelity and shrewdness in scent he could have corresponding courage and corresponding will-power in the conflict! What if you visit the straits of the Morini, tide-swept by a wayward sea, and choose to penetrate even among the Britons? O how great your reward, how great your gain beyond any outlays! If you are not bent on looks and deceptive graces (this is the one defect of the British whelps), at any rate when serious work has come, when bravery must be shown, and the impetuous War-god calls in the utmost hazard, then you could not admire the renowned Molossians so much. (Grattius, Cynegeticon)

Wolfhounds and greyhounds were used for hunting by Romans, and there were even dogs used for religious sacrifice.

Apart from the larger breeds used for the purposes mentioned above, smaller lapdogs  were very popular house pets in the Roman world. These were most likely similar to today’s maltese breed of dog.

There are several examples of beloved dogs on grave monuments for family or children that survive. The fact that Romans even did this is testament to the importance placed upon them.

A terracotta rattle in the shape of a dog

We have but scratched the surface of this vast topic on pets and animals in the Roman world. I hope you’ve found it interesting.

At the end of the day, the wide array of animals that served as pets, workers, food, religious sacrifice and more was as vast and varied a reflection of the world as the Roman Empire itself.

Thank you for reading.

Facebooktwitterpinterest
by

Pompeii – A Brief Introduction with Archaeologist, Raven Todd DaSilva

Hello again, ancient history-lovers!

Way back in the dark days of February, archaeologist Raven Todd DaSilva came to speak to us about gladiators and the famous thumbs-up gesture that we associate with that ancient blood sport. If you missed that, you can check it out HERE.

I’m thrilled to say that Raven is back on the blog with us this week for a brief introduction to one of the great disasters of the Roman world: the destruction of Pompeii.

Raven visited the archaeological site of Pompeii recently and is here to share a bit of the history with us, as well as some new theories around dating, as well as one of her brilliant videos!

So, ready as ever to get digging and get dirty, here’s Raven Todd DaSilva…

Pompeii, a Brief Introduction

By: Raven Todd DaSilva

On an unassuming day in 79 CE, the long-dormant Mount Vesuvius erupted. For three days, volcanic ash and rock rained down on the surrounding area, completely devastating the settlements around it. Most famously- the city of Pompeii.

Founded in the 6th century BCE along the Sarno river, Pompeii originated as a local settlement in Campania. The rich volcanic soil made it favourable for agricultural activity. In the 5th century BCE, the Samnites entered the area, while the 4th century BCE saw the beginning of Roman influence on the region. Pompeii began to flourish under this regime with massive building projects. It became a major port on the Bay of Naples, leading to its “golden age” in the 2nd century BCE. Pompeii was later turned into a seaside resort in 81 BCE. An earthquake damaged many of the buildings in 62 CE, which led to significant economic decline. By the time of the eruption, many of the grand villas built in the 2nd century BCE were converted for public use, leaving the city frozen in time during a period when its glory days were behind it.

Of course, Pompeii gets its fame from the devastating catastrophe because of the rare view it gives us regarding daily life at that time. As the eruption took the city’s inhabitants by surprise, they were not able to properly pack up and evacuate the area, leaving archaeologists with invaluable evidence as to how people really lived in the first century CE.

Not only are we fortunate enough to have the physical site of Pompeii, we also have a primary document describing the eruption of Vesuvius and the immediate aftermath. Pliny the Younger described the events that happened to his uncle, Pliny the Elder, who died assisting refugees onto the warships he was overseeing. This account is also where the infamous quote “Fortune favours the brave” originated. We also have Pliny’s own personal account from Misenum (about 30km away).

Pliny the Younger

The eruption has been described by Pliny the Younger as:

…a pine tree, for it shot up to a great height in the form of a very tall trunk, which spread itself out at the top into a sort of branches; occasioned, I imagine, either by a sudden gust of air that impelled it, the force of which decreased as it advanced upwards, or the cloud itself being pressed back again by its own weight, expanded in the manner I have mentioned; it appeared sometimes bright and sometimes dark and spotted, according as it was either more or less impregnated with earth and cinders.(Letter LXV – To Cornelius Tacitus)

Once the danger of this eruption was realised, people began to evacuate hurriedly, with many people successfully fleeing. Pliny described those escaping as having “pillows tied upon their heads with napkins; and this was their whole defence against the storm of stones that fell around them” (Letter LXV). The stones thrust from the volcano were deadly, crashing through roofs, collapsing buildings and crushing those trying to take refuge under stairs and in cellars. Others, like Pliny the Elder, choked to death on the air as it filled with ash and noxious sulfurous gas. It is believed that 30,000 people died from the eruption.

The traditional date of the eruption is August 24th, as reported by Pliny the Younger, but it has come under scrutiny as further scientific evidence has come to light. Even as early as 1797, the archaeologist Carlo Maria Rosini questioned the date. Rosini reasoned that, as fruits found preserved at the site, such as chestnuts, pomegranates, figs, raisins and pinecones, become ripe in the fall months, they would not have been ripe so early in August. Another study of the distribution of the wind-blown ash at Pompeii supports this theory further. Probably one of the most telling artefacts is a silver coin found that was struck after September 8th, AD 79. As we don’t have an original copy of Pliny’s manuscript, we can assume a typo had been made along the way.

After compiling all this new data, a new eruption date of October 24th, 79 AD has been suggested.

After the eruption, the city remained largely undisturbed until 1738 when Charles of Bourbon, the King of Naples dispatched a team of labourers to hunt for treasures to give to his queen, Maria Amalia Christine, who was enamoured by previously excavated Roman sculptures in the area of Mount Vesuvius. The city of Herculaneum was found first, with Pompeii excavations following it about ten years later.

Charles of Bourbon

Today, Pompeii is one of the most popular and well-known archaeological sites, with the longest continual excavation period in the world. With respect to the study of daily life of Rome, it is undeniably important due to the sheer amount of data available. Each year, thousands of visitors flock to Pompeii to walk along the large stone slabs of its roads, visit its iconic brothels, and marvel at the mosaics, wall paintings and body casts preserved by the volcanic ash.

Raven Todd DaSilva is working on her Master’s in art conservation at the University of Amsterdam. Having studied archaeology and ancient history, she started Dig It With Raven to make archaeology, history and conservation exciting and freely accessible to everyone. You can follow all her adventures on Facebook and Instagram @digitwithraven

Resources

Online Articles:

Kris Hirst, What 250 Years of Excavation Have Taught Us About Pompeii https://www.thoughtco.com/pompeii-archaeology-famous-roman-tragedy-167411

Mark Cartwright, Pompeii https://www.ancient.eu/pompeii/

Joshua Hammer, The Fall and Rise and Fall of Pompeii https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/fall-rise-fall-pompeii-180955732/

Andrew Wallace-Hadrill, Pompeii: Portents of Disaster http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/romans/pompeii_portents_01.shtml

James Owens, Pompeii https://www.nationalgeographic.com/archaeology-and-history/archaeology/pompeii/

Wilhelmina Feemster Jashemski, Pompeii https://www.britannica.com/place/Pompeii

The Two Letters Written by Pliny the Younger about the Eruption of Vesuvius in 70 A.D. – http://www.pompeii.org.uk/s.php/tour-the-two-letters-written-by-pliny-the-elder-about-the-eruption-of-vesuvius-in-79-a-d-history-of-pompeii-en-238-s.htm

Books:

Beard, Mary (2008). Pompeii: The Life of a Roman Town. Profile Books. ISBN 978-1-86197-596-6

Butterworth, Alex; Laurence, Ray (2005). Pompeii: The Living City. St. Martin’s Press. ISBN 978-0-312-35585-2

Kraus, Theodor (1975). Pompeii and Herculaneum: The Living Cities of the Dead. H. N. Abrams. ISBN 9780810904187

As ever, I’d like to thank Raven for another fascinating post and video.

Pompeii is one of those topics that I never tire of, and the exciting thing is that more is being revealed all the time. It’s also one site that I have not yet had the chance to visit, so I really enjoyed learning a bit more.

And I’m definitely looking forward to that next collaboration and video, Raven!

If you haven’t already done so, be sure to check the Dig It with Raven website and subscribe to Raven’s YouTube channel so you can stay up-to-date on all the latest videos about archaeology, history and art conservation.

Cheers, and before you leave, here’s a fantastic time lapse video of Raven’s visit to Pompeii!

 

Facebooktwitterpinterest
by

Inspiration for Writing the Past – An Eagles and Dragons Playlist

Music brings a warm glow to my vision, thawing mind and muscle from their endless wintering.― Haruki Murakami

How does music help you? How does it affect you and your creativity? Has it helped you to overcome obstacles and see the world from a different angle?

The answers to these questions will vary from person to person.

This week on the blog, I want to share something different with you, something related to my own creative process, particularly when it comes to writing historical fiction.

For the entirety of my life to this point, music has played an influential role at every stage. I grew up in a household where music was ever-present and appreciated. Whether it was classical or movie music, opera, folk, rock’n roll, period music or punk rock, music was always there. It was always marking big events in my mind, accompanying me on my journeys, accenting my experiences.

When I sift through my own memories, there is always music to go with them.

Who hears music, feels his solitude, Peopled at once.― Robert Browning

Since the beginning of my writing career in my mid-teens, music has always been a part of my creative process.

I write to music, pure and simple. I have to.

Every writer is different, and among those who do write to music I’m sure there is a vast array of musical types that inspire.

For me, the music of choice for writing has always been movie soundtracks. They’re highly emotive and varied, different tracks suited to different types of scenes.

Music is like a dream. One that I cannot hear.―  Ludwig van Beethoven

I can’t just write to any type of movie soundtrack, however. You won’t find me listening to Star Wars, Indiana Jones or The Lord of the Rings soundtracks while writing. The images of those films are burned onto my memory and I know the exact part of the movie where every note is played. That would unduly affect my own storytelling.

But there are countless movie soundtracks that, to me, evoke something of the ancient world, are a bit more exotic, and have the power to transport me out of the modern world and into the past.

For each writing project, I create a separate playlist which I will listen to when doing research, riding on the subway to work, driving in my car, or when I’m out for a walk. The music is there at all times when I’m thinking about my work-in-progress.

Today I want to share with you the most prominent soundtracks on my playlist for the book I’m currently writing, Isle of the Blessed (Eagles and Dragons Book IV).

Some of these might be familiar to you, others not, but I hope you will enjoy all of them. Where available, I’ve embedded samples from some of the soundtracks (the samples are often uploaded by individual fans and not the composers, hence the pictures).

*There are a lot of embedded audio files below, so when you first load the page, you will probably need to click ‘refresh’ once on your web browser so that the SoundCl0ud players show up.

(A quick note here in the interests of transparency that the Amazon and iTunes links are affiliate links – this means Eagles and Dragons Publishing will get a small portion of the proceeds if you purchase it)

I hope you enjoy this musical peek into the creative process behind a book I know many of you are waiting for…

Fans of ancient Greece among you will be familiar with the 300 movies, and the soundtrack from the first film has some powerful, really driving tracks. But there are also some wonderfully solemn tracks that make me feel as if I am standing in the shadow of Mt. Taygetus outside of Sparta itself. This soundtrack has been with me on a couple books, from battles to quiet moments with Lucius Metellus himself. The track that particularly stands out to me is ‘Message for the Queen’. (Please forgive the picture this person uploaded – it has nothing to do with the movie!)

(Amazon and iTunes)

It goes without saying that as the Eagles and Dragons series is set in the Roman Empire, that some of the soundtracks should be from movies set there as well. I thought Pompeii was a decent film but it is not one that I watch over and over again, so it was easy for me to separate the images of the film from the music. This movie has some great street scenes in it that really do evoke the hustle and bustle of Pompeii. The track I like for that, is aptly named ‘Streets of Pompeii’.

(Amazon and iTunes)

This is the only non-period movie on the playlist. Hans Zimmer, who is one of the great film composers of our time, really created a fantastic soundtrack with Black Hawk Down. I’ve used this in the past for all previous Eagles and Dragons novels, especially as it evokes the desert and the East for me. However, the track I love most is the very moving ‘Leave No Man Behind’. When writing about soldiers and brotherhood, whether in the ancient world or the present, this track makes you feel.

(Amazon and iTunes)

If you haven’t seen the film Centurion, then you will definitely want to check it out. It’s showing on Netflix at the moment if you’re interested. Obviously this movie takes place during the Roman Empire and Ilan Eshkeri’s soundtrack is a fabulous journey of intensity and despair. One track that I sometimes play on repeat because of its sublime intimacy and ‘moment of calm’ aspect, is the track called ‘Necromancer’. Have a listen. It’s beautiful.

(Amazon and iTunes)

We’re back to the 300 movies, this time with the second one entitled 300: Rise of an Empire, music composed by Junkie XL.

This soundtrack has been one of the most influential on my writing of late, and in addition to inspiring the battle scenes in Warriors of Epona (Eagles and Dragons Book III), and scenes in Isle of the Blessed, it was also a huge inspiration for me when writing the climactic scene for Heart of Fire: A Novel of the Ancient Olympics. The track ‘History of the Greeks’ gives me chills every time. Every track has something to offer here, so you won’t want to miss this one. Here is a sample of several tracks from the album.

(Amazon and iTunes)

One movie that I don’t think got the recognition it deserved is Dracula Untold, and the music for this is no different. Ramin Djawadi, most famous for his soundtracks for the Game of Thrones series, created a fantastic soundtrack for Dracula with glorious highs and lows. One of my favourite tracks on this one is ‘Mirena’. If you like Dracula films with history thrown in, you have to check this out.

(Amazon and iTunes)

Those of you who have known me for a while will know that I’m a big fan of all things Arthurian. When I first saw the BBC series Merlin, I was a bit sceptical at first, but after a few episodes, I was hooked. The series is dramatic, funny, tragic and uplifting and the music and themes created by Rob Lane and Rohan Stevenson are no different. As Isle of the Blessed takes place in Britannia, the music fits nicely with the mystery of the setting. The track ‘Gwen and Arthur’ is a particularly moving one.

(Amazon and iTunes)

Speaking of Ramin Djawadi, it was inevitable that at least one of the Game of Thrones soundtracks should be on my playlist. Actually, the music for both season one and two are on the list. I’m not a super fan of the television series, though I do enjoy it. I am, however, a super fan of the music. The vast array of themes for different characters and settings, countries and more that Ramin Djawadi has created is truly mind-blowing. There’s something for everyone and every situation in the music for Game of Thrones. I am hard-pressed to pick just one track but I have to say that I am post partial to the ‘Winterfell’ theme.

(Amazon and iTunes)

One movie that got absolutely panned at the cinema was Immortals, the movie about Theseus. Now, I have to admit that I actually like this movie quite a bit. Granted, it’s more of a big-time fantasy movie that a serious take on mythology, but that’s ok. These tales are meant to be reinvented. That’s why they’ve lasted so long! Trevor Morris is a composer whose work I’ve enjoyed for a few years and his soundtrack to Immortals is one of my favourites. It just transports me to another time and place and makes me feel like the gods are standing right there with me. The track ‘Do Not Forsake Mankind’ is the track to listen to on this, though they are all pretty fantastic.

(Amazon and iTunes)

Composer Joseph LoDuca is no stranger to television soundtracks, having written the music for the Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and Xena: Warrior Princess shows back in the nineties. He’s been a favourite in our family as my own mother, a former opera singer, performed on the Xena Season Four soundtrack. Joseph LoDuca’s music is fantastically exotic, quirky and emotional. More recently, he composed the music for the television series, Spartacus: Blood and Sand.

Spartacus was a fantastic and gritty series and LoDuca’s music fit the bill perfectly. You really do feel like you are in ancient Rome, on the sands of the amphitheatre, or in the characters’ private dwellings. Check out the soundtrack for the first season, in particular for me, the track ‘No Life Without You’.

(Amazon and iTunes)

A more recent history-themed show is Vikings. This epic series has found quite a bit of success, and the atmosphere that the film makers have created is only enhanced by the music of Trevor Morris. I’ve only delved into the first season’s soundtrack for this series, but it is a wonderfully sprawling and mysterious soundscape. There are so many tracks to choose from, but at the moment, one of my favourites is ‘Ragnar Takes the Throne’.

(Amazon and iTunes)

One of my more recent soundtrack acquisitions is from the Arthurian-themed movie Tristan and Isolde. This is quite simply, a beautiful tragic tale that does this story of doomed-love utmost justice. Composer Anne Dudley has such a knack for inserting gut-wrenching feeling into the most intimate, quiet scenes. This soundtrack has been a big inspiration for Isle of the Blessed. You need to listen to this one right now. I’m especially enjoying the track ‘None Can Die’.

(Amazon – but not available on iTunes)

And finally…

I would be utterly remiss without mentioning the soundtrack that has been with me almost from the beginning of the Eagles and Dragons series – Gladiator.

This is the soundtrack that brought the names of Hans Zimmer and Lisa Gerrard (of Dead Can Dance fame) to the fore, and for good reason. Whenever I write about the grandeur of the Roman Empire, the frontiers of Numidia or Africa Proconsularis, or even Severus’ war in Caledonia, the music from Gladiator is churning in my brain.

I know this movie well, having watched it so many times, so it is strange to me that the images from the film do not intrude on my own conjurings. Hans Zimmer and Lisa Gerrard’s music has succeeded even in transcending director Ridley Scott’s vision and Russell Crowe’s outstanding performance.

I suspect that this soundtrack will be with me for many more books. All the tracks are good, but if you want to hear one of the more haunting ones, listen to ‘The Wheat’.

(Amazon and iTunes)

Music, when soft voices die, vibrates in the memory.― Percy Bysshe Shelley

I hope you’ve enjoyed this peek at the creative process and the wonderful music that is accompanying me on this very personal journey writing Isle of the Blessed.

Like the music, there are highs and lows, moments of inspiration, and times of despair, and that’s the beauty of the creative process, that we get to feel the full range of human emotion. With hope, I can impart the full measure of that to all of you, just as these wonderful composers have done for me.

Thank you for reading.

A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Facebooktwitterpinterest
by

Ancient Everyday – Coinage in Ancient Rome

Greetings ancient history lovers!

It’s been a while since the last Ancient Everyday blog post. If you missed the last one on Roman oil lamps, you can read it HERE.

Today we’re going to take a brief look at coinage in Ancient Rome from it’s inception to the early Imperial period and reforms of Emperor Augustus.

One of the reasons I love writing the Ancient Everyday series is that it shows is how much we actually have in common with the Roman world as far as our daily experiences.

A Roman coin hoard

Now, while we might not all have a big cache of loot lying buried in our back gardens, we do use money in some way shape or form on a daily basis.

Romans were no different in that regard, and whether they were getting paid for their legionary service, shopping in the markets of Trajan, or paying for the company of a lovely lupa in the streets of Pompeii, money was exchanged, and that usually in the form of coin.

But coins did not always exist in Rome, indeed not really across most of the early Mediterranean world.

The Mediterranean world of the Roman Empire

In the ancient world, coins were first produced in the Greek cities of Asia Minor in the late 7th century B.C. These first coins were made of something called ‘electrum’ which was a mixture of gold and silver with simple designs upon them.

Eventually, by about 500 B.C. coin production had spread across the Aegean and to the Greek colonies of southern Italy. These first coins were of pure silver, but the mints of these southern Italian Greeks also produced the first coins made of bronze.

However, before coins were common across Italy, the currency usually came in the form of irregular-shaped lumps of bronze known as aes rude. These were valued by weight.

aes rude – bronze ignots

By the 4th century B.C. bronze was being cast in regular-sized, cast bars, and then by the 3rd century B.C. standard weights were introduced and bars were stamped with images. These were known as aes signatum.

During the Republic, c. 289 B.C., aes grave were introduced. These were pieces of bronze about four inches in diameter that were cast in molds. They superseded the previous, larger bronze bars and became known as an as, or aes, the name given to one of the later denominations of Roman coin.

The as was then divided into smaller values such as a semis (half-as), a triens (a third), a quadrans (a quarter), a sextans (a sixth), and an uncia (a twelfth). These were quite small, but perhaps they would have got you a honeyed pastry in the forum!

Artist impression of a Roman street scene

As Rome grew in power and wealth, the coinage seemed to follow suit. In the early 3rd century B.C., Roman silver coins began to appear, and these were based on Greek designs coming out of southern Italy. It appears that the first silver coins were struck in Rome itself from about 269 B.C., and the first silver denarii were issued around 211 B.C.

Eventually, silver became the standard for coinage over the previous bronze, and the denarius became the main silver coin of the Roman world.

Other changes were afoot too…

The as was reduced in size so that 1 denarius was equal to 10 asses in the second century B.C. And, around the time of the Second Punic War, gold coins were first issued.

Gold aureus of Antoninus Pius

Around 24 B.C. the Emperor Augustus established a standard system of coinage, and under this system, the minting of gold and silver coins was a monopoly of the emperor, and bronze coinage was issued by the Senate of Rome.

Under this new system, four metals were used in coinage: gold, silver, brass, and bronze or copper.

Gold and silver coins were for official uses like salaries, and the baser coins were for everyday uses like market shopping or tipping the attendant at the baths. Augustus knew what he was doing as when a soldier was paid in silver or gold, then the emperor’s face was staring right back at him from that shiny surface. The troops knew who was paying them!

Over time, largely because of increased military spending, the silver denarius, the backbone of the Roman monetary system, became debased until, during the reign of Emperor Severus, a denarius contained only 40-50% silver and the rest was bronze.

But how much were the actual coins worth during the early Empire? Here are the approximate values of the various coins equal to one golden aureus:

Silver denarius of the Emperor Titus commemorating ‘victory’ over the Jews

You needed 25 silver denarii to equal 1 aureus.

Sestertius of the Emperor Trajan

100 brass sestertii were equal to 1 aureus.

Dupondius of the Emperor Claudius

You needed 200 brass dupondii for one aureus.

Bronze as of the Emperor Nero (pun slightly intended!)

400 bronze asses equaled one golden aureus.

Brass semi as showing horses

800 brass semis were needed to equal 1 aureus.

Bronze quadrans of Emperor Hadrian

And a whopping 1600 bronze quadrans were needed to equal the value of one aureus!

I imagine that the purses of the rich were much easier to carry around than those of the poorer classes in ancient Rome. That’s a lot of bronze to equal just one gold coin!

Of course, in the later Empire, some new denominations came into effect, such as the argenteus, the follis, the solidus, and the centenionalis. Values fluctuated and metals were debased depending on which way the Roman economy veered. Not unlike today, I suppose.

There is one aspect that we should touch on too, and that is the powerful marketing tool coinage was for emperors. Coins were everywhere and in everyone’s hands, and what better way to let the people of the Empire know who was their master and protector than to put your face on the very coins they sought to collect and use to pay for things in their daily lives.

With coinage, the Emperor’s face was with you at all times, reminding you who was in charge. Coins gave you their likeness and also helped to commemorate victories over Rome’s enemies.

One thing is for sure…

In the world of Imperial Rome, for better or worse, money was one of the things that made the wheels of the Empire turn, and coin passed through the hands of rich and poor alike. Only some had more of it than others.

Thank you for reading.

Facebooktwitterpinterest
by

Chariot Racing in Ancient Rome

Artist Impression of a race in the Circus Maximus

See you not, when in headlong contest the chariots have seized upon the plain, and stream in a torrent from the barrier, when the young drivers’ hopes are high, and throbbing fear drains each bounding heart? On they press with circling lash, bending forward to slacken rein; fiercely flies the glowing wheel. Now sinking low, now raised aloft, they seem to be borne through empty air and to soar skyward. No rest, not stay is there; but a cloud of yellow sand mounts aloft, and they are wet with the foam and the breath of those in pursuit: so strong is their love of renown, so dear is triumph. (Virgil, Georgics III-IV)

When we think of the raucous world of sport in ancient Rome, the images we conjure are most often of blood-soaked gladiatorial combat, or of chariot racing.

Today, we might think that gladiatorial combat was the most popular sport amongst the people of Rome, but in truth, nothing was more sensational than the chariot races put on in the great circus of Rome – the Circus Maximus.

In this post, we’re going to take a brief look at the circus itself, the charioteers, the horses, the fans, equipment, and what teams stood to win…and lose.

Relief of a race in the Circus Maximus (Wikimedia Commons)

Their temple, dwelling, meeting-place, in fact the centre of all their hopes and desires, is the Circus Maximus. (Ammianus Marcellinus on Plebs and the Circus, XXVIII.4)

Chariot racing was an ancient sport handed down from the Greeks to the Etruscans and Romans early in the history of Rome, the races in the city of Rome being held in a dip in the land between the Palatine and Aventine Hills. Over time, the Circus Maximus was built upon by successive senates and emperors, making it the largest in the Roman world.

Etruscan tomb painting showing a chariot race

Rome’s great circus had an area of 45,000 square meters, making it twelve times larger than the Colosseum, and it could hold at least 150,000 spectators. With the addition of temporary wooden seating, the capacity was said to have reached 250,000!

The Circus Maximus was the largest and most expensive entertainment venue in Rome. Buildings had been added to it from the fourth century B.C. onward, going from wood to stone, and a major renovation was done in the first century B.C. Before the Colosseum was built, the Circus Maximus also hosted gladiatorial combats, wild animal hunts, and other games.

Aerial view of the Circus Maximus today with the Palatine Hill behind it

The Circus Maximus certainly owns its name, for by the time of Emperor Trajan, it was about 550-580 meters long, and about 80-125 meters wide. At the start of the track, there were twelve carceres, starting boxes, with ostia (gates) from which the teams would shoot out and charge the first 170 meters toward the central spina, which divided the course and which is what the teams raced around. The spina was 335 meters in length and 8 meters wide, and at each end of it were metae, the turning posts which the riders sped around. The spina was also ornamented with statues of the gods, towering palms, and obelisks from Rome’s campaigns in Egypt.

There were also large frames on the spina with mechanisms with suspended dolphins and eggs to count down the laps for a race. The total distance of a race of seven laps was about 5,200 meters over the packed earth and gravel track.

Model of ancient Rome with the Circus Maximus in the foreground

When it came to putting on games, or ludi as they were known, in the Circus Maximus, hundreds of staff were required in addition to the aurigae, the charioteers themselves. There were stable boys, grooms, cartwrights, saddlers, doctors, veterinarians, men at each of the starting gates (which were each six meters wide in Rome), men to clear the debris after crashes, lap counters, musicians, and even performers between races usually comprised of riders or acrobats.

That’s a lot of people to keep things running, but it was worth it to those who put on the games, for the people of Rome loved their chariot teams.

Charioteer and Horse of the Albati faction

One might think that fans usually cheered for their favourite charioteers, but in truth, Romans were fans of their favourite factions, or factiones as they were known. There were four chariot factions in Rome: the Veneti (Blues), the Prasini (Greens), the Russati (Reds) and the Albati (Whites).

The four chariot factions of Rome were managed by the domini factionis, the ‘faction masters’ who were usually men of the Equestrian class. They would have sought out potential charioteers, made deals with others, and generally seen to the running of the faction and its success. The domini factionis were similar to the lanista of a gladiatorial school, or ludus.

In Rome, the factions had their headquarters, the stabula factionum, which contained accommodation and stables, on the Campus Martius, but their breeding grounds and training camps were located in the countryside.

People were wild for their factions, and there could be violence between the followers of each. During a race, each faction could enter either one, two, or three separate teams so that a full race could comprise up to twelve chariot teams running at a single time.

But who were the men who drove the factions to victory or defeat? Who were the charioteers of Rome?

Winner of a Roman Chariot Race (Wikimedia Commons)

O Rome, I am Scorpus, the glory of your noisy circus, the object of your applause, your short-lived favourite. The envious Lachesis, when she cut me off in my twenty-seventh year, accounted me, in judging by the number of my victories, to be an old man.

(Martial, Epigrammata, LIII. Epitaph of the charioteer Scorpus)

Outside of Rome, in the hippodromes of distant provinces, it was possible for individual owners to enter teams or even race themselves, but in Rome’s circus, it was the factions who entered the teams, and the professional charioteers, the aurigae, who raced for each faction.

The aurigae were usually slaves or freedmen, low on the status scale the same as gladiators, but they could achieve great fame and wealth.

In his Epigrammata, the poet Martial tells us of a famed auriga named Scorpus who was one of the few charioteers to achieve the status of miliarius. The miliarii were those who had won over one thousand races – Scorpus was said to have won 2,048!

Ancient chariot racing in Rome was not dissimilar to modern sports. People were loyal to their faction, their ‘team’ so to speak, and charioteers, like pro sports players today, might be traded to or wooed by other factions. It was not uncommon for a charioteer to move factions several times before settling down in the latter half of his career.

A charioteer and his team

Servants’ hands hold mouth and reins and with knotted cords force the twisted manes to hide themselves, and all the while they incite the steeds, eagerly cheering them with encouraging pats and instilling a rapturous frenzy. There behind the barriers chafe those beasts, pressing against the fastenings, while a vapoury blast comes forth between the wooden bars and even before the race the field they have not yet entered is filled with their panting breath. They push, they bustle, they drag, they struggle, they rage, they jump, they fear and are feared; never are their feet still, but restlessly they lash the hardened timber.

At last the herald with loud blare of trumpet calls forth the impatient teams and launches the fleet chariots into the field. (Sidonius Apollinaris, To Consentius)

Relief of a chariot race

It wasn’t just the aurigae who achieved fame in the Circus Maximus. Horses too could be just as famous as their drivers, and oftentimes equine heroes were met with adoration.

Winning horses received palm branches, but also modii, which were measures of grain, with barley thrown into the mix. They were no doubt pampered back at the stabula factionum, and those horses who ran their factions to victory after victory enjoyed retirement in the countryside on a pension. They even received a burial with honour.

Race horses were bred and trained on private, and later imperial, stud farms, and the most successful breeds to race in the Circus Maximus were Lusitanos and Andalusian breeds from North Africa and Spain.

Though the horses were well-cared for by the factions, the racing was hard on their joints because of the tight turns of almost 180 degrees around the metae, and of course the great risk of injury.

Animal losses were high in the circus of Rome.

The famous chariot scene from the movie Ben Hur

When it comes to the chariots and equipment used for the sport of chariot racing in ancient Rome, the movies have often been misleading.

In movies like Ben Hur (pictured above) the chariots are massive, some with long blades sticking out of the wheels. The chariots used in the movie made for some exciting film making and a great scene, but they were not at all accurate as far as what was really used.

Statue of a Roman biga (two-horse chariot) found in the Tiber. Note how much smaller the chariots actually were compared to what we see in the movies

Roman racing chariots, which were adapted from the ancient Greek and Etruscan chariots, were light-weight affairs, consisting of a slight wooden frame bound with strips of leather or linen, and small wheels with 6-8 spokes.

The most common chariot was the quadriga, a four-horse chariot from ancient Greece. The other commonly-used chariot was the biga, a Roman two-horse chariot. These two types were what were raced most often in the Circus Maximus in Rome. However, there were said to have been six-horse chariots (seiugae), eight-horse chariots (octoviugae), and even a ten-horse chariot (decemiugae).

Unfortunately, no remains of an imperial Roman chariot have been found, so we are forced to rely on artwork for an idea of their appearance. However, the tombs of Etruscan nobility have yielded some two-hundred and fifty examples of chariots.

Etruscan chariot made of bronze

In ancient Greece, charioteers wore only a long chiton with a belt when they raced, but Roman and Etruscan aurigae wore a short chiton, a protective skull cap or leather helm, and a wide leather belt composed of many straps. They also wore linen or leather wrappings on their legs and carried a curved dagger on them.

Why did they carry a dagger?

Well, it wasn’t to attack each other during the races. The reason for the dagger was that unlike Greek charioteers who held the reins in their hands, Roman charioteers wrapped the reins around their waists in order to use their whole body to steer the team and have one hand completely free for the whip.

If they ever got into a naufragia, a ‘shipwreck’ as chariot accidents were called, the dagger was supposed to be used to cut oneself free of the reins that were wrapped about you. It certainly was a risk when driving a team of four horses up to 75 kms per hour while trying to cut off your opponents going into the turns and so on.

One thing’s for sure, Roman chariot racing was extremely dangerous, though perhaps not as hazardous to one’s life as gladiatorial combat.

A crash in the Circus

Games, or ludi, were the highlight of the Roman calendar, and chariot racing in the Circus Maximus was always the main event. During imperial games, there were usually up to twenty-four races per day at Rome, and that could include up to 1,152 horses.

This was always an event on a titanic scale, and the people of Rome loved it!

People were fanatical about their factions, and the charioteers who risked their lives in the Circus Maximus must have felt near to gods when the adoration of the crowd shone full upon their faces.

Apart from the traditional victory palm, winning charioteers and their factions could receive massive fortunes for their success.

In Rome, prizes ranged from 15,000 to 60,000 sestercii per race! That’s far more than the annual pay for a legionary soldier who received about 900 sestercii per year during the early Empire.

One charioteer by the name of Gaius Appuleius Diocles was said to have won almost 1,500 races and when he retired at the age of forty-two, he had a fortune of 35.5 million sestercii!

I guess some things don’t change, as the salary of military personnel today is far outstripped by that of the average sports star.

Mosaic of a victorious chariot team

It seems that those who are destined entertain us, whether a modern sports star or an ancient charioteer in the circus of Rome, are going to be raised above the average person in society. Victory brings great reward, it seems, and ancient Rome was no different in that respect.

Bread and circuses!

There’s a reason Juvenal wrote those words back in the first century A.D.

Thank you for reading

 

For those of you who are interested, the Timeline documentary below talks about the history and technical specs of ancient Roman chariot racing while training four modern equestrian experts to become charioteers and then race each other. You might want to check this out!

https://youtu.be/rkCXbGcp5yk

Facebooktwitterpinterest
by

Roman Ghosts: Shades in Eburacum

Greetings history lovers!

Welcome to the first post in what we hope will be an ongoing blog series called Roman Ghosts.

We all love a good ghost story, and as everyone reading this presumably loves ancient history, we thought it would be fun to combine the two.

In this series (which will be posted sporadically as we discover more Roman ghost stories) we will not be setting out to prove or disprove anything. We’re not scientists, myth busters, or ghost hunters.

With the Roman Ghosts series, we’re interested in the stories and sightings themselves. At the end of this inaugural post, you’ll see how you can help and be a part of this.

Artist impression of Eburacum, Roman York

The first Roman ghost story we’re going to look at is one that you may be familiar with.

In the province of Britannia, one of the principal legionary bases was that of Eburacum (also ‘Eboracum’), or modern York.

York is a beautiful city today with some amazing medieval remains, York Minster, the Shambles, the Yorvik Viking Centre and more. I’ve been to York several times and enjoyed myself immensely each time.

The Roman ruins of York are less visible than the grand medieval remnants such as the walls and Petergate, but they are there.

In fact, the oldest part of York today was built pretty much on top of the original legionary base.

Ordnance Survey Map – Roman York

Today’s High Petergate runs from the northwest to southwest along the line of the orginal Via Principalis of the legionary base, and York Minster was built on top of the Principia, the headquarters building of the legion. Among the more visible Roman ruins is the multi-angular tower located to the southwest of Petergate itself.

If you know where to look in York, there are indeed Roman remains to be seen, including beneath York Minster, and, one of my favourite places, beneath the Roman Bath pub where you can visit the remains of the fortress’ baths after a pint and a good meal.

Remains of the Roman baths of Eburacum, on display beneath the Roman Bath pub

York, or Eburacum, was famous for its connections with a couple emperors, including Constantine the Great, whose statue sits outside the minster, and before him our own Septimius Severus. In fact, I’ve set part of Warriors of Epona, and the upcoming Isle of the Blessed in Eburacum during Severus’ time there.

Roman (with medieval additions) multi-angular tower in Eburacum

But we’re here to talk about ghosts, aren’t we?

On my first visit to York I took a walking tour. Our guide told us many things, but what stuck with me the most from that tour was the tale of a young plumber who, in 1953, says he saw Roman soldiers come out of a wall where he was working in the cellar of the Treasurer’s House.

There are many theories about places holding memory, and about how the spirits of the departed may linger in a place where they spent time.

Eburacum was home to two British legions for over 300 years! First, it was garrisoned by the IXth Hispana Legion from about A.D. 71-121. This is the famous ninth legion that some believe went missing after a campaign in Caledonia, and which was made famous in the novel The Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutcliff. After that legion vanished (or was assigned to another part of the Empire), Eburacum was garrisoned by the VI Victrix Legion which remained there for close to three hundred years and may have been the last legion to leave Britannia when Rome pulled out.

Needless to say, a few generations of Romans called Eburacum ‘home’.

The Treasurer’s House, York (picture: The National Trust)

The Treasurer’s House is located just to the north of the minster, near the Roman Via Decumana of the old legionary base. This is where, in 1953, eighteen-year-old Harry Martindale, an apprentice plumber, first saw a troop of about twenty ghostly Roman soldiers.

According to Martindale, he was working alone in the cellar of the Treasurer’s House, the lowest point of which was the original Roman road, possibly the Via Decumana itself.

While he was on a ladder, he heard an odd sound, as if some sort of music was playing, a horn of some sort, perhaps a cornu. He looked down from his ladder and there saw the top of a helmet come out of the solid wall he was working at.

He stumbled down and fell into a corner to watch in terror as several legionaries, as well as a mounted cavalryman, marched out of the wall, along the road, and then disappeared into an opposite wall!

The wall in the cellar of the Treasurer’s House where Martindale saw the Roman ghosts come out.

The strange, and terrifying thing is that Martindale did not say they were cloudy apparitions such as we might expect ghosts to be. Rather, as he sat on the floor watching them, he noticed that they looked as real as you or I. He could see the details of their armour, weapons, clothing, and even the stubble upon their faces!

He also noticed that when they came out of the wall, they were only visible from the knees up, that is, until they stepped onto the Roman road itself and their feet finally became visible.

Now, if that doesn’t send a chill down your spine, I don’t know what will!

Harry Martindale in an interview years later in front of the wall where he saw the ghostly Romans

Harry described all he had seen to historians and they confirmed that the details he described, of the armour and weapons etc. were genuine and accurate, and may have been Roman auxiliary troops. It has also been hypothesized that, because of the date of that particular road level and the details Harry described, the ghostly troopers may well have been part of the IXth Hispana Legion which had gone missing.

Who knows. If the shades of these legionaries experienced a traumatic slaughter in the highlands of Caledonia, then perhaps their ghosts eventually returned to Eburacum where they still march along the roads today?

Petergate in York, built on the Roman Via Principalis

Harry Martindale was not the only one to have seen the shades of these Roman soldiers over the years. Before him, the old caretaker had seen them, but said nothing for fear of being ridiculed. A later caretaker also saw them after Harry’s experience.

My guide in York claimed that other Roman legionary ghosts had been spotted marching down the streets of York at night too, and it’s not hard to imagine when you walk around that ancient city. It seems made for ghosts!

I don’t know if the latter is true, or if Martindale’s story is legitimate. It does seem odd though that a young working boy could have such a detailed knowledge of Roman legionary or auxiliary kit, doesn’t it?

Either way, it’s a fantastic Roman ghost story!

Roman soldiers – a legionary and an auxiliary cavalryman (illustration by Angus McBride)

Earlier, I mentioned that there was a way in which you can be a part of the Roman Ghosts blog series…

If you know of any other Roman ghost stories in any country across what was the Roman Empire, then please do let us know about it and, if possible, send us a link to sources or articles that refer to that particular ghost story or sighting.

If you have any stories to share with us that you would like us to look at, just reply to this e-mail or go to the Contact Us page on the Eagles and Dragons Publishing website.

Anyone who makes us aware of a Roman ghost story that we write up will get a mention in the blog itself.

For now, we hope you’ve enjoyed this first post in the Roman Ghosts series.

Thank you for reading.

To watch an interview with Harry Martindale about his experience, check out the first half of the video below:

Facebooktwitterpinterest
by

A Turn of the Thumb: Gladiators and the Thumbs Up

Greetings ancient history fans! We hope you enjoyed last week’s blog post on the origins of gladiatorial combat and the different types of gladiators. If you didn’t read it, you can check it out by CLICKING HERE.

This week we’re venturing farther into the world of gladiators with a special guest post by archaeologist Raven Todd Da Silva.

Everyone who is familiar with popular representations of gladiators and gladiatorial combat will be familiar with the ‘turn of the thumb’ gesture, but do you know how that expression came about? Is it historically correct? Why was the thumb so important to Romans?

Well, Raven is going to demystify that for us. Take it away, Raven!

 

A Turn of the Thumb: Gladiators and the Thumbs Up

By: Raven Todd Da Silva

‘Pollice Verso’, painted in 1872 by Jean-Léon Jérôme

The notion of signaling life or death for a defeated gladiator by a thumbs up or thumbs down has been made popular by famous pieces of artwork and the 2000 film Gladiator.

But what is the real importance of our thumbs (digitus pollex), and how did it really function in the gladiatorial games of Ancient Rome?

The Romans were unique in comparison to other civilizations in referring to the thumb as its own digit on the hand, and it’s suggested that they believed it to have power or hold sway (polleat) over the rest of the fingers. The Latin word for thumb, pollex, is also said to have derived from the word for power, pollet. So we can see here just how much influence a gesture with the thumb had.

In the days of the gladiatorial games, the audience could have their say in deciding the fate of the fallen combatants with a hand gesture – what we think of as thumbs up or thumbs down in today’s misconstrued pop culture-reliant society. The decision to kill the fallen gladiator was decided with what is know as the pollice verso – which translates only as “turned thumb”. If we look at Juvenal, he says:

to-day they hold shows of their own, and win applause by slaying whomsoever the mob with a turn of the thumb bids them slay. (Juvenal; Satire III 36)

The Christian poet Prudentius also backs this up when talking about a Vestal Virgin watching the games:

The modest virgin with a turn of her thumb bids him pierce the breast of his fallen foe (Prudentius; Against Symmachus II)

The Médaillon de Cavillargues

We aren’t sure what this exactly means though, and there are no other proper surviving texts to give us specific insight. Contrary to popular belief, the “thumbs up” we all know today as a sign of a good job or to show that everything is A-OK did not always have this meaning. A study by Desmod Morris shows that Italians did not consider this action as a positive one until American pilots, who used it to signal to the grounds crew that they were ready to take off, imported it in WWII.

So we don’t really know which way the audience’s thumbs were pointing to indicate if they wanted the gladiator to die.

But if an extended, turned thumb indicated the kill, what did the audience do if they wanted to spare the gladiator’s life? Martial stated that the crowd appealed for mercy by waving their handkerchiefs (XII) or by shouting (Spectacles, X).

It seems the gesture was possibly to hide your thumb inside of your fist known as the pollice compresso or “compressed thumb”. Anthony Corbeill, the leading expert on ancient Roman gestures has translated Pliny’s pollices premere to mean that a thumb pressed down on the index finger of a closed fist signified mercy.

There’s some speculation with the reasoning behind these two gestures. Firstly, it’s a lot easier to tell the difference from the crowd. Second, it could indicate the state of the gladiator’s sword. Extended thumb indicating that the audience wanted the gladiator to give the conquered one final stab or blow, and the compressed thumb telling the victor to sheath his weapon and grant mercy on the defeated.

The Zliten Mosaic

Archaeologically speaking, the The Médaillon de Cavillargues, located in the Nîmes Musée Archéologique supports Corbeill’s conclusions. Also interesting to note, the gladiator may have had to wait for a judgment call from the producer of the games to know the true outcome from the audience vote – waiting for an audible cue in the form of a horn or some music, which is suggested in the Zliten mosaic.

One of the most famous paintings depicting gladiatorial combat is called the Pollice Verso, painted in 1872 by famous historical painter Jean-Léon Jérôme. It displays a victorious gladiator standing over his vanquished opponent, showing off to a crowd enthusiastically thrusting their thumbs down. Jérôme was a highly respected historical painter, known for his extensive research and accuracy, which is why this misrepresentation lead to so many misunderstandings from the general public and fellow academics.

Raven Todd DaSilva is working on her Master’s in art conservation at the University of Amsterdam. Having studied archaeology and ancient history, she started Dig it With Raven to make archaeology, history and conservation exciting and freely accessible to everyone. You can follow all her adventures on Facebook and Instagram @digitwithraven

Resources

The Gladiator and the Thumb

“Thumbs in Ancient Rome: pollex as Index.” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 42 (1997) 61-81 Anthony Corbeill

Juvenal Satire Book 3

Nature Embodied: Gesture in Ancient Rome (2004) by Anthony Corbeill

Zliten Mosaic

Pollice Verso

I’d like to thank Raven for taking the time to share this fascinating research with us. To be honest, I had no idea the Romans thought of the thumb as a digit that held sway over the other fingers!

You can read more by checking out the list of resources above.

If you have any questions for Raven about the ‘turn of the thumb’, you can ask them in the comments below.

Also, be sure to check out her website Dig It With Raven where she has a wealth of information on archaeology, history and art restoration.

Raven also posts regular VLOGS about archaeology and art restoration that are fascinating and highly informative. She’s also really funny! For anyone wanting to get their feet wet in these subject areas, I can’t recommend the videos enough. Make sure you subscribe to her YouTube channel so you don’t miss any of her awesome and educational videos.

We’ll definitely have Raven back on the blog!

Thanks for stopping by, and thank you for reading!

Facebooktwitterpinterest
by

Gladiators: The Implements of Death

Few things about the ancient Roman world fascinate the modern masses more than gladiators. The subject of slaves dueling to the death for the entertainment of the mob is horrible, but at the same time darkly entertaining.

In the popular mind, most of what we imagine gladiators and gladiatorial combat to have been comes from popular movies and television. I still remember the first time I watched Spartacus as a kid, and the horror of the scene when Kirk Douglas fights his fellow gladiator, Draba (played by Woody Strode) and how the latter is cut down when he refuses to kill Spartacus. It made my heart race and guts tighten. A lasting impression to be sure!

And who can forget the more recent film, Gladiator, by Ridley Scott, with its epic fight scenes and recreation of the Flavian Amphitheatre, or rather, the Colosseum? Classics enrollment shot through the roof after that movie! What about the television series, Spartacus: Blood and Sand?

Bloody, brutal, entertaining and mesmerizing.

Are you not entertained!
(Sorry, I couldn’t help myself there. Love this movie!)

Apart from Spartacus: Blood and Sand, however, few attempts have been made to properly portray gladiators and their equipment, their styles. The focus in the media has been on death and the panem et circenses, or ‘bread and circuses’, aspect of it all.

In this post, we’re going to look at the various styles of gladiators, along with some of their weapons. The reality of gladiatorial combat in the major arenas of the Roman Empire was not of two half-naked men slashing away at each other, but rather of a highly organized blood sport with its own set of rules.

But before we delve into that, let’s take a brief look at the origins of gladiatorial combat.

Funeral Games were an ancient tradition. The Games in honour of the death of Patroclus beneath the walls of Troy are depicted here.

Originally, it’s thought that gladiatorial contests were not for entertainment, but rather for funeral games.

Possibly the oldest depiction of a gladiatorial contest comes from a tomb painting at Paestum, in Campania, around 370-340 B.C. The murals of this tomb portray various activities such as chariot races, fist fights, and a dual between armed men bearing, helmets, shields, and spears. A referee and three pairs of fighting men are also depicted.

Because of this find, and the presence of the oldest stone amphitheatres in the region, it has been argued that Campania is where gladiatorial fights originated. The region was also home to some of the most important gladiatorial schools, or ludi.

Some of the earliest known representations of gladiatorial combat from Campania, Italy.

The idea of shedding blood by a dead person’s grave, was an ancient tradition, and the Roman world was no stranger to blood sacrifice. You can read more about sacrifices in the Roman world HERE.

However, later Roman writers, such as the Christian writer, Tertullian (c. A.D. 200), frowned upon this particular rite of sacrifice:

For of old, in the belief that the souls of the dead are propitiated with human blood, they used at funerals to sacrifice captives or slaves of poor value whom they bought. Afterwards, it seemed good to obscure their impiety by making it a pleasure. So they found comfort for death in murder. (Tertullian, De Spectaculis 12)

Tertullian, in a way, displayed a mindset more in tune with our own, perhaps, in which most of us feel horror at the thought of public execution and torture. This is a modern mindset, however. When it came to early gladiatorial combat, it does indeed appear that life was cheap when it came to the first gladiators who were most likely prisoners of war and slaves.

Relief depicting gladiators

Over time, gladiatorial combat moved from being a rite for funeral games, to an entertainment for the masses. ‘Bread and circuses’ as Juvenal put it in the second century A.D.

With the growing popularity of gladiatorial combat, the aristocratic families who wanted to maintain their political power in Rome began to use the games as a means of securing their power. They did this by putting on public games for the masses, the mob. It became an expensive entertainment to put on, and also a part of everyday life in the Roman world.

The first public gladiator fight was apparently in the Forum Boarium, but later they occurred in the Forum Romanum, and then, once it was built, found a permanent home in the Colosseum.

Graffiti in Pompeii depicting two known gladiators

Gladiatorial contests grew in popularity, and these slaves, for that is what they were, came to be superstars, second only, you might say, to charioteers.

Though the Romans may not have invented gladiatorial combat, they do appear to have ‘perfected’ it. They developed ludi, gladiatorial schools run by a lanista. In the Roman Empire, the state came to exert a level of control – there were four imperial ludi in Rome itself! There were styles of gladiator with specialized weapons and training, diet and the best medical care. And gladiators were no longer just prisoners of war or slaves, but also criminals and even volunteers!

Gladiators were also an investment. They developed a market value depending on their successes. Gladiators were to ancient Rome, what our modern-day sports superstars are now. They were part of a great show, complete with stage sets and storylines. They even had stage names, their images popping up in scrawled graffiti all over Rome, etched by their adoring fans.

Mosaic depicting gladiators with their stage names. Note the theta symbol (a circle with a line) beside some which stands for ‘Thanatos’, indicating that they are dead.

At this point, you get the picture. Gladiators evolved from being a sacrifice, to superstars in the world of Roman blood sport.

However, it wasn’t just a matter of matching any type of gladiator against another. There were specific styles that developed over time, and they stemmed from mythological beasts to shadows of Rome’s former enemies.

Pairings of the different types of gladiators were not random. You might be surprised to know that the rules called for very specific types of gladiators to be pitted against each other, especially in the great amphitheatres of the Empire.

Much of what we know of the equipment of the different types of fighters comes from pictorial depictions on anything from elaborate mosaics, to frescos, oil lamps and even street graffiti.

An ancient oil lamp decorated with a gladiatorial combat scene. The perfect addition to any young man’s cubiculum!

The different classes of gladiators had distinctive equipment, and protection was worn on different parts of the body, depending on the style. Usually, the head, face and throat were protected by a helmet, and some of these are the most impressive remains of gladiatorial equipment. Different limbs were also protected by organic materials like leather and linen, but there were also metal guards such as greaves.

In almost all cases, the gladiator’s chest, no matter the style, was unprotected, but for the provocator which we will look at shortly. The only piece of clothing worn was a loin cloth, or subligaculum, which was belted with a cingulum or later, a wide sash.

There were variations on some of the protective equipment such as manicae, which were arm guards worn regularly in late antiquity, and fasciae, padded tubes for the legs which could be worn beneath greaves.

Artist impression of two equites gladiators

The first type of gladiator we are going to look at is the eques, or horseman.

Equites fought only against other equites, and were considered lightly-armed gladiators. They were the only gladiators to wear clothing, in the form of a tunica, and they wore gaiters on their legs, but no greaves. They had a manica on their right arm, wore a visored helmet, and carried a parma equestris, a round cavalry shield.

As far as weapons, the eques carried a hasta, which was a lance of about 2.5 meters in length, and a gladius.

More often than not, the equites bouts would take place at the beginning of the gladiatorial combat schedule during the games.

A re-enactor dressed as a murmillo gladiator

Probably the most famous or recognizable gladiator style was the heavy-armed murmillo.

Murmillo is actually a term for fish, and the style of his helmet resembled something of a sea creature or monster in a way. He was usually set against a thraex (Thracian) fighter, or a hoplomachus (a Greek style fighter).

When you look at this fighter, you can tell that it was a formidable opponent, and from the weapons, one could say that in the combat against others, he represented Rome and Rome’s army.

The murmillo’s torso was bare and he was protected by a manica on his right arm, and a gaiter and short greave on his right leg. The head was protected by a wide-brimmed helmet with a crest and feathers, and he bore a heavy scutum in his left hand, the large rectangular shield of Rome’s legions. Because of this protection, the murmillo fought with his left foot and shoulder forward, striking with the only weapon he carried, a gladius, in his right hand.

The murmillo never fought against his own kind, and it seems likely that the pairing of a murmillo against a thraex was the most common pairing in Roman amphitheatres.

Thraex helmet. This find is in amazing condition. Note the griffin shaped crest.

As mentioned, the thraex fighter, named after Rome’s Thracian enemies, was the main opponent of the murmillo, and was also a heavy class fighter.

The equipment of the thraex is often confused with the hoplomachus because of certain similarities such as quilted leg protection, two high greaves that reached above the knee, and a brimmed helmet with a tall crest.

The thraex carried a smaller, almost square shield known as a parmula, and his helmet was often decorated with a griffin. He had a manica on his right arm as well. Unique to the thraex was the distinctive curved short sword or sica.

In addition to being the main opponent of the murmillo, the thraex was also pitted against the hoplomachus.

Re-enactor dressed as a hoplomachus

Hoplomachus literally means ‘fights with a weapon’, which is rather obvious for a gladiator, but this heavy class fighter was representative of the ancient Greek hoplite warrior who was named after the round hoplon shield.

However, the circular shield carried by this gladiator was a smaller bronze version of the Greek shield. In addition to the body protection in common with the thraex mentioned above, the hoplomachus carried two weapons: a long dagger in his left hand, to which the shield was strapped, and a lance or spear in his right hand.

The hoplomachus usually fought a murmillo, although he could be matched against the thraex. The pairings were part of the show, an imitation of Roman soldiers (murmillo) against the foreign enemies of the past.

Artist impression of a provocator

The only middle weight gladiatorial class appears to have been the provocator.

This style of gladiator usually fought his own type, and was the only one with a protected chest in the form of a square or rectangular breastplate. He also had a half-length greave.

The provocator carried a rectangular shield, similar to a scutum and carried a gladius as his weapon. His helmet had a visor but no crest.

These fighters may not have been the headliners of the show, but their lighter weight must have made for a quick, equally-matched and impressive fight.

Mosaic depicting a battle between a retiarius and secutor.

Apart from the murmillo, the retiarius is probably the most iconic symbol of the gladiatorial family.

The name retiarius, means ‘fights with a net’.

This fighter was one of the few who had no helmet. Nor did he have a greave or shield. However, the retirarius did have a manica protecting his left arm, as well as a galerus, a tall metal shoulder guard. His weapons consisted of a net, a trident, and a pugio, or dagger.

A trident, one of the weapons of a retiarius.

Surprisingly, this fighter was a new category that was introduced during the imperial period. He was a light fighter, and though he did not pit well against the heavy, military-themed fighters, he was sometimes pitted against them during the Empire. Most often, however, the retiarius met the secutor on the sands of the arena. Sometimes, he even fought against two secutores!

The pairing of a retiarius and secutor was a storyline, a tale of the fisherman against a sea creature(s). Sometimes a set or stage was erected on the arena floor for this performance, with a bridge, or pons, from which the retiarius could fight against his one or two foes. At times, they even fought over real water!

The helmet of a secutor. Note the small eye holes and covered ears.

The secutor, the opponent of the retiarius, was also sometimes called a contraretiarius.

This gladiator was similar to the murmillo, but was designed specifically to fight the retiarius. He differed from the murmillo in the type and shape of helmet that he wore. Not only did the helmet look like a fish or sea creature, but it also had small eye holes that were deliberately intended to protect the fighter against the points of the retiarius’ trident. His hearing and vision were severely hampered by the helmet, but his heavy protection evened the odds against his more agile opponent. The secutor was not a fighter to mess with!

Mosaic depicting various types of gladiators, along with a referee (second from the right)

Those were the main types or classes of gladiators that appeared across the Roman Empire and in the amphitheatres of Rome.

However, there were other types of gladiators such female gladiators who depicted Amazon warriors, as well as gladiators with regional variations in the provinces.

Some other types included the essedarius, or war-chariot fighter who represented Rome’s Celtic enemies, the dimachaerus who was a fighter with two swords or daggers, and the crupellarius who was a sort of super heavy-armed gladiator.

There was also the aquerarius, a sort of retiarius with a lasso or noose, and the saggitarius who, you guessed it, was an archer gladiator. Between bouts, or at the half-time intermission of the games, you might also catch a glimpse of the paegniarius who was not for fighting, but more for comic relief like the clowns during a half-time show or intermission.

A wild beast hunt in the arena.

The world of gladiatorial combat was vast and better regulated than we are led to believe in movies. We’ve but scratched the surface here. The combats were not only on sand between men, but there were also venatio (wild animal hunts), and naumachiae (mock naval battles) to entertain the masses of Rome and the Empire.

There is much more to learn about this bloody aspect of Roman society and sport. If you want to read more, two very accessible books are Gladiators and Caesars: The Power of Spectacle in Ancient Rome edited by Eckart Kohne and Cornelia Ewigleben, and the Osprey Publishing ‘Warrior’ series book Gladiators: 100 B.C. – A.D. 200 by Stephen Wisdom and Angus McBride.

But we aren’t done with gladiators!

Very soon on the Writing the Past blog, we’ll have a special guest post from archaeologist Raven Todd Da Silva about the infamous ‘turn of the thumb’ in gladiatorial games. Make sure that you are signed-up to the Eagles and Dragons Mailing List so that you don’t miss Raven’s post or any others that are coming up!

For now, I hope you’ve enjoyed this peek into the world of gladiators.

Thank you for reading.

The Colosseum, also known as the Flavian Amphitheatre

Facebooktwitterpinterest
by

Sacrifice in the Roman World

Oftentimes, when we think of the world of ancient Rome, one of the images that springs to mind is that of the sacrifice, the image of a priest before an altar slashing the throat of some sort of animal, the blood of which oozes in grisly flow down the sides of a white marble altar.

It’s a dramatic image to be sure, but it does not provide us with the complete facts of sacrifice in Roman society.

Today, we are going to take a brief look at sacrifice in Roman religion, what it meant and what it could entail.

Roman altars, perhaps erected as votive offerings themselves

Basically, a sacrifice, or sacrificium, was a gift to the gods, heroes, emperors, or the dead. It was not simply a matter of the ritualistic killing of animals as is our modern perception of ancient sacrifice.

Not all sacrifices were blood sacrifices, and not all sacrifices were public displays either. There were also private sacrifices.

Whether public or private, the goal was to maintain one’s relationship with the gods, the dead, etc. and this was done in different ways.

Food offerings were not only of flesh, but could also be of fruit or grain, milk, honey or something similar.

Depending upon the nature of the offering and its intent, a food offering might be part of a sacrificial feast in which people shared with the gods, both receiving their portion to consume. Alternatively, the entirety of the sacrifice might be offered to the gods to be consumed in the flames.

Most of the evidence for sacrifices in the Roman world come to us from inscriptions on altars which were themselves considered sacrifices.

There could be various reasons for a sacrifice such as one made in expectation of a favour, or a sacrifice that was demanded by the gods through an oracle, omen, dream or some other such occurrence. Sacrifices were also made on anniversaries, such as the anniversary of a family member’s death or an historic event, or they could be made as part of a religious festival.

Roman religion was customizable in a sense, and so the types of gifts of sacrifices could vary. They might include cakes, incense, oils, wine, honey, milk, and perhaps sacred herbs or flowers. And yes, they could also include various blood sacrifices with certain types and colour of animals being more fitting for certain gods.

A bull being led to sacrifice, the ceremony accompanied by a tibicen, or flute player.

One of the most common forms of sacrifices were those made in fulfillment of a vow, meaning that if a particular god undertook a specific action on behalf of the mortal making the request, then that mortal would carry out the promised sacrifice. Perhaps that mortal would build an altar to that god if his political campaign was successful, or perhaps a general would sacrifice fifty bulls if he was victorious on the battlefield?

When it came to the slaughter of animals as part of a sacrifice, it seems that male animals were offered to male gods, and female animals to goddesses. They had to be free of blemishes and a suitable colour as well, for example, black for underworld gods. There were also times when the animal sacrificed was one that was considered unfit for human consumption, such as the sacrifice of dogs to Hecate.

A sacrifice portrayed on a lararium, or family shrine, in Pompeii

It does not appear to have been usual for a regular citizen to perform an animal sacrifice. It was more the case that the person who wanted to make the sacrifice made arrangements for the ceremony with the aedituus of a particular temple who hired a victimarius to perform the actual slaughter. There might also have been music provided by a flute player, or tibicen, in order to please the god but also to cover up any sounds of ill-omen from the victim.

For most sacrifices, a priest would have his head covered by the folds of a toga to guard against ill-omened sights and sounds, except at Saturnalia when things were the reverse of the usual and priests performed sacrifices with their heads uncovered.

Notice the covered head of the person performing the sacrifice, and the poleaxe carried by the victimarius leading the bull to slaughter.

One might think that it was an easy thing to slaughter an animal, but it seems that the opposite is the case. Aside from trying to avoid any ill-omened sights or sounds, the way in which an animal was slaughtered was very important to Romans.

The head of the animal was usually sprinkled with grains, wine, or sacred cake known as mola salsa before it was killed. It was then stunned with a blow to the head, perhaps with a ceremonial axe or cudgel, and then stabbed or its throat slit with a sacrificial knife. The blood was then caught in a special bowl and poured over the altar.

Once the sacred deed was done, the animal was skinned and cut up. It is at this point that a haruspex might examine the entrails for messages or omens from the gods.

The remains were roasted over the fire with the entrails consumed first. Bones wrapped in fat, the preferred portion of the gods, were then burned upon the sacred fire along with other offerings such as wine or oil. If it was part of a sacrificial feast, the remaining portions were then roasted for the mortal participants.

Relief of Emperor Marcus Aurelius performing a sacrifice

Blood sacrifices could be performed for different occasions that also included times of crisis, such as if Hannibal was at the gates of Rome, for the purposes of purification, or for the rites of the dead.

Chillingly, I only recently discovered that a holocaust was a sacrifice in which the victims were completely burned.

Another type of sacrifice that was well-known in ancient Rome was the suovetaurilia which involved the sacrifice of a pig, a sheep, and an ox. No doubt this particular sacrifice made for a good meal afterward for the participants.

Relief of a Suovetaurilia ceremony

But what about human sacrifice in the Roman world?

It is thought that early gladiatorial combat was a form of sacrifice, but there is little evidence for regular human sacrifice over time.

It was practiced only in exceptional circumstances such as after disasters in battle. One example is in 216. B.C., after the battle of Cannae when the Sibylline Books were consulted, a pair of Greeks and a pair of Gauls were sacrificed by being buried alive in the Forum Boarium of Rome. Titus Livius (Livy) recounts the latter here:

Since in the midst of so many misfortunes this pollution was, as happens at such times, converted into a portent, the decemvirs were commanded to consult the Books, and Quintus Fabius Pictor was dispatched to Delphi, to enquire of the oracle with what prayers and supplications they might propitiate the gods, and what would be the end of all their calamities. In the meantime, by the direction of the Books of Fate, some unusual sacrifices were offered; amongst others a Gaulish man and woman and a Greek man and woman were buried alive in the Cattle Market, in a place walled in with stone, which even before this time had been defiled with human victims, a sacrifice wholly alien to the Roman spirit.

(Livy; The History of Rome 22.57.6)

The Forum Boarium in Rome, the Cattle Market with the round Temple of Hercules on the left.

Human sacrifice was eventually outlawed by senatorial decree in 97 B.C., though the practice might have continued in some non-Roman cults for a time. It does seem that effigies or masks could have replaced actual human victims in some rites.

Whether they took place in a public forum, in one of the main temples of Rome, or in the lararium of a private domus, it seems evident that sacrifice was central to Roman religious practices.

The sacrificial offerings varied greatly from animal and human flesh, to wine, oil and incense, to other foods such as cakes, grains, flowers and more. Sacrifices could also include altars and the building of monuments.

What mattered was that the gods were propitiated and the dialogue between the earthly and divine realms was maintained and respected.

To me, Roman religion and sacrifice are crucial to our understanding of the ancient Roman world. It’s a fascinating subject that still holds many mysteries, and I hope that you have found this brief look interesting.

Thank you for reading.

Facebooktwitterpinterest