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Revisiting the Etruscan Tomb of Montecalvario

It is no secret that one of my favourite places in the world is Tuscany. There are many reasons for this, including the pace of life, the wine, the food, the people and, of course, the idyllic countryside.

There is also the history and archaeology.

Over the years I have dearly missed Tuscany, especially in the dark days of a long, Canadian winter. I’ve often found myself longing for its rolling hills and spear-thrusting cypresses in a world exploding with colour and light.

This land has been a big part of my life, and the setting for many of my books.

Recently, I was blessed enough to be able to go back to Tuscany after twenty years away, and I was reminded once more why I love it so.

In this blog post, I want to share a bit about my return visit to one site in particular: the Etruscan tomb of Montecalvario.

One of the four entrances to the tomb of Montecalvario

For fans of the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, this particular tomb was the inspiration for Metellus family tomb which plays such an important and mysterious role in the books.

The first time I visited this archaeological site, hidden away on a lonely road outside of Castellina in Chianti, I knew right away that I wanted to use it in the novels.

Little did I know, how much of an inspiration it would be!

Adam going into the Etruscan tomb at Castellina in Chianti 20 years ago!

Before I get into my return visit, let’s briefly discuss the site.

As many of you know, Tuscany, or rather Etruria, is named for the Etruscans, the ancient people who lived and ruled there long before the Romans dominated the Italian mainland. I won’t go into the history of the Etruscan here, but you can read the full blog post entitled The Elusive Etruscans for a brief history of that fascinating people.

Tuscany is full of Etruscan archaeological sites that you can explore, including countless tombs, large and small.

The tomb of Montecalvario is one of them.

It is located in the province of Siena, on the outskirts of Castellina in Chianti, one of the main towns of the Chianti Classico wine region, on the road between Poggibonsi and Radda, the latter being the heart of Chianti Classico.

Chianti Classico region with Castellina in Chianti and Montecalvario in the top left corner (from site interpretation)

The hill of Montecalvario is actually named for a Christian chapel that had been built on top of the hill in the Middle Ages which was the last stop on the Via Crucis, or the ‘Way of the Cross’, the ‘Mount of Calvary’ being the site of Christ’s cruxifixction, but also the final stop for pilgrims along this particular trail.

The chapel is gone now, the remains of this majestic tomb visible once more.

The hill under which the tomb is located is more than fifty meters wide, and was actually discovered by accident in the early 19th century.

Historic photo of discovery of tomb of Montecalvario (from site interpretation)

What was revealed was an imposing Etruscan funerary monument made up of four chambers aligned with the cardinal directions. Each of the main burial chambers was reached by its own corridor or dromos (Greek for ‘road’) which was flanked by other, small rooms, with the South and West tombs having a more complex, three-chamber layout.

Layout of the tomb of Montecalvario (from site interpretation)

Archaeologists believed the tomb had already been looted by the time it was discovered, but the robbers did not get everything. There were fragments of gold, bronze, iron, bone and ivory scattered about, believed to have been from caskets or urns that had been buried there. In addition, there were the remnants of metal objects, including parts from two chariots and sheets with decorated reliefs on wood panels, also thought to be from the chariots.

Recreated chariot using finds from the tomb (from site interpretation)

Due to the monumental size of this tomb, and the hint of grave goods that the archaeological finds provide, it is believed that this may have been a princely tomb for members of the ruling families of this region around the seventh and sixth centuries B.C.

Artist Impression of Tomb of Montecalvario (from site interpretation)

So what was it like to return to this land, this place, after twenty years, after writing about it and imagining it many times over so that it took on a life of its own in my fiction?

It was like walking through a dream.

We had set out early that morning from our agriturismo accommodation south of Siena (under which was an Etruscan tomb!) to drive over the forested hills to the soaring Etruscan fortress town of Volterra, to the southwest of San Gimignano. It was a long, beautiful drive over winding roads across the Tuscan landscape, but the view from Volterra’s heights were well worth it.

View from the heights of the Etruscan fortress of Volterra

If you ever go to Tuscany, do so in the Spring when the weather is not too hot and the landscape is supremely green and dotted with myriad brilliant poppies bobbing their delicate heads. It is a world bursting with life when Springtime asserts itself for a few weeks before the world turns dry and brown.

From Volterra, we set out on the winding road through the Chianti region, that rich and fertile land over which Florence and Siena fought so viciously during the Middle Ages.

When one thinks of Tuscany, it is difficult not to think of rolling, grassy hills, of lanes and roads dotted with sentry cypresses, but when you come to the Chianti Classico region, you are met with an often steep and mountainous terrain covered in forests where boar and deer roam, and between the hills are smaller valleys in which ancient vines are grown alongside groves of olive.

A view of the Chianti hills

I had forgotten how thickly-forested Tuscany could be, and I was happy to be reminded as we drove past the many-towered settlement of San Gimignano in search of Castellina in Chianti and the tomb that had been such an inspiration years before.

As we drove into the Chianti Classico region in search of the tomb, the sky turned dark and a storm threatened us with black clouds and flashes of angry lightning in every direction.

It was quite a change from the hot and sunny heights of Volterra.

From the fortress town of Monteriggioni, we headed northwest through the storm to Castellina in Chianti, passing the headquarters of wineries whose names were warm and familiar to us, even in Canada.

At last, with a pause in the rain, we arrived in Castellina in Chianti, searching for signs to the tomb that seemed to elude even our car’s GPS and Siri herself.

Castellina in Chianti with the Medieval tower to the right.

After taking the wrong road, and having to turn back, we finally arrived at the small parking lot for the tomb of Montecalvario, located on a hill opposite the small 14th century castle from which the town gets its name.

There was no one else around when we parked and began the short walk up the road to the tomb’s entrance. The sky was still dark in places, and a chorus of thunder continued to rumble in the background.

I felt strange walking up the path to the tomb, almost like my character, Lucius Metellus Anguis, when he returns to the family estate after many years away.

Watch out for snakes! Adam heading into the tomb…

Make no mistake… This Tuscan experience is far different from the Renaissance grandeur of Florence. In the countryside, you step back in time. Beyond the occasional passing car on the road below, all I could hear was the distant thunder, the crunch of my boots on the path, birdsong and the beating of my heart.

As I did years before, I wondered again about the people who had built this tomb high on a hill, about the rituals they might have performed for the dead. If you block out the sound of cars, you can almost hear weeping or prayers to the gods on the air.

I spent more time exploring and documenting the tomb of Montecalvario this time. I headed farther into the tomb than I had dared previously, trying to ignore the fact that snakes could have been hiding within (there weren’t any that I could see, thankfully!).

One of the inner chambers

While in the tomb, I was reminded of the fiction I have created around this place, and it came to life in my mind as though it had all really occurred there.

That was, admittedly, a very strange feeling, and one that made me somewhat melancholy. But such is the way of things when you visit realms of the dead. There is a sadness, a thick nostalgia in the air, and I felt both of those acutely as I roamed about the Metellus family tomb of my books.

The largest of the inner chambers

After absorbing the site, and taking all of the pictures and video I had planned on taking, it was time to leave that cypress-crowned tumulus.

I walked back down the long path with an occasional backward glance over my shoulder as if bidding farewell to a friend I did not know if I would see again.

Then, it was out of site, and the sky cleared a little over the Tuscan hills as we got back in our modern chariot to wend our way through that ancient land to Radda, our next stop along the way.

It was good to revisit the tomb of Montecalvario after so many years and, despite the myriad joys of our wondrous, ten-day Tuscan interlude, reconnecting with this inspiring place was certainly one of the highlights.

Thank you for reading.

Standing at the top of the tomb.

If you enjoyed this post, you will definitely want to check out the mini-documentary I filmed at this archaeological site of Montecalvario. Just click the YouTube video below on the Eagles and Dragons Publishing YouTube channel to watch it.

For those of you who are interested in starting the #1 best selling Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, you can get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for FREE by clicking HERE. The tomb of Montecalvario figures largely in the book.

We hope you enjoy the book and the video, The Etruscan Tomb of Montecalvario: A Short Tour below:

 

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Ancient Everyday: Celebrating Birthdays in Ancient Rome

Salvete Romanophiles!

After a long hiatus from this blog series, we’re finally back with a new Ancient Everyday post!

As my own birthday approaches, I thought it would be fun to explore this topic on the blog. So, we’re going to be taking a brief look at how they celebrated birthdays in ancient Rome!

Let’s party!

Roman dinner party

The celebration of birthdays was different in ancient Greece compared to the world of Rome. In ancient Greece, the individual’s birthday was not celebrated so much as the monthly birthday of the various gods the Greeks worshipped. Even today in Greece, the celebration of ‘name days’, that is, the saints’ days, is more widespread.

People may forget a birthday, but everyone remembers a name day!

However, apart from the religious connection, the celebration of birthdays in ancient Rome was quite different to that in ancient Greece.

So, what about birthdays in ancient Rome? Did they celebrate them?

The short answer is, ‘yes’, they did.

Birthdays, or dies natales, were indeed important celebrations.

But how did they celebrate? What did they do to celebrate? Did they give gifts?

The Roman Forum (by Becchetti)

In ancient Rome there were, in fact, two types of birthday celebrations: public and private.

Public birthdays were celebrations in honour of particular gods or the founding of temples or cults dedicated to those gods. There were also celebrations of the birthdays of cities.

For the present, though I believe everything finds its way to you in the letters of your friends, or even by messengers and rumour, yet I will write briefly what I think you would like to learn from my letters above all others. On the 4th of August I started from Dyrrachium, the very day on which the law about me was carried. I arrived at Brundisium on the 5th of August. There my dear Tulliola met me on what was her own birthday, which happened also to be the name-day of the colony of Brundisium and of the temple of Salus, near your house. This coincidence was noticed and celebrated with warm congratulations by the citizens of Brundisium.

(Cicero, Letter LXXXIX (a iv,1) To Atticus) 

The above quote from Cicero’s letter to his friend, Atticus, is said to be one of the earliest known mentions of the natales of cities and temples, in this case the celebration of the Roman temple of Salus, the Goddess of Safety and Welfare, and the city of Brundisium, both of which are celebrated on the exact same day as his own daughter’s birthday.

We will talk about private birthdays shortly, but it is important to note that because Roman religion had so many deities, genii and numina (spirits) etc. to be honoured, it was common to have one’s private birthday on the same days as those public birthdays.

Some examples of major public birthdays included the Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, the birthday of the Unconquerable Sun, around December the 25th, and the Dies Natalis Urbis Romae, the birthday of the founding of the city of Rome, on April the 21st, an event which is still celebrated today as the Natale di Roma with a parade, games and other events.

Natale di Roma parade (photo: Giampiero Giustarini)

In 2022, Rome will be celebrating its 2775th birthday. Happy Birthday Roma!

During the Principate, or the imperial period, another form of public birthday was the annual celebration of the birthdays of emperors and imperial family members, past and present. During these celebrations, the public made offerings and carried out rituals to commemorate their imperial overlords, or the days of their accession to the throne. The latter celebrations were known as the natales imperii.

Relief of Emperor Hadrian being greeted by the Goddess Roma and Genii of the Senate

Come, let pious Rome mark the birthday of eloquent Restitutus: Let every tongue be reverent; let all prayers be favourable. We are performing birthday rites; let litigation cease.

(Martial, Epigrams 10.87.1-4)

Unlike today, it seems that religion and birthdays were inevitably linked in the world of ancient Rome. Individuals, and their celebrants, commemorated the anniversary of the religious cult or genius with which their birthday was associated.

Good Genius, take the incense willingly, and willingly grant his prayers, so long as he burns when he thinks of me. But if by any chance he now sighs over another love, then, holy one, desert the faithless altar, I pray.

(Albius Tibullus,  4.5.9-12)

It really was an interesting commingling of religion and celebration.

But what about private birthday celebrations? Were they very different from today?

In some ways yes, and in other ways not so much.

Obviously, for most people today, religious rituals, such as those described above, are absent from the average birthday celebration.

However, when it came to the private birthday celebrations of men and women, family members and friends, there are some things which we have in common with the Romans.

A Cake for an Emperor!
(This is an actual cake created by talented Athenian artist Anne Maria Papadeli. Check out her work on Instagram @anne_marie_papadeli )

In ancient Rome, especially among the wealthy, those for whom we have sources, banquets were held and gifts were given. The Roman playwright, Terence, even describes how costly gift-giving could be! The servant, Davus, speaks:

Geta, my very good friend and fellow-townsman, came to me yesterday. There had been for some time a trifling balance of money of his in my hands upon a small account; he asked me to make it up. I have done so, and am carrying it to him. But I hear that his master’s son has taken a wife; this, I suppose, is scraped together as a present for her. How unfair a custom!—that those who have the least should always be giving something to the more wealthy! That which the poor wretch has with difficulty spared, ounce by ounce, out of his allowance, defrauding himself of every indulgence, the whole of it will she carry off, without thinking with how much labor it has been acquired. And then besides, Geta will be struck for another present when his mistress is brought to bed; and then again for another present, when the child’s birthday comes; when they initiate him, too: all this the mother will carry off; the child will only be the pretext for the present.

(Terence, Phormio, Act I, Scene I)

There were likely a wide range of gifts, depending on the class and financial status of the individuals in question. This would have been a similar situation to Saturnalia and the giving of sigillaria during those ‘best of days’ in the Roman calendar.

Private birthdays in ancient Rome, it seems, could be quite as important to individuals, and those who cared for them, as they are today. Perhaps even more so because of the religious connection. The Gods were watching!

Here is a wonderful quote from the poet, Sextus Propertius, who wrote a love poem describing his hopes for the birthday of the object of his love and affection, Cynthia:

I wondered what the Muses had sent me, at dawn, standing by my bed in the reddening sunlight. They sent a sign it was my girl’s birthday, and clapped their hands three times for luck. Let this day pass without a cloud, let winds still in the air, threatening waves fall gently on dry land. Let me see no one sad today: let Niobe’s rock itself suppress its tears. Let the halcyons’ cries be silent, leaving off their sighing, and Itys’s mother not call out his loss.

And oh, you, my dearest girl, born to happy auguries, rise, and pray to the gods who require their dues. First wash sleep away with pure water, and dress your shining hair with deft fingers. Then wear those clothes that first charmed Propertius’ eyes, and never let your brow be free of flowers.

And ask that the beauty that is your power may always be yours, and your command over my person might last forever. Then when you’ve worshipped with incense at wreathed altars, and their happy flames have lit the whole house, think of a feast, and let the night fly by with wine, and let the perfumed onyx anoint my nostril with oil of saffron. Submit the strident flute to nocturnal dancing, and let your wantonness be free with words, and let sweet banqueting stave off unwelcome sleep, and the common breeze of the neighbouring street be full of the sound.

And let fate reveal to us, in the falling dice, those whom the Boy strikes with his heavy wings. When the hours have gone with many a glass, and Venus appoints the sacred rites that wait on night, let’s fulfil the year’s solemnities in our room, and so complete the journey of your natal day.

(Sextus Propertius, Elegies, Book III.10:1-32, Cynthia’s Birthday, trans. A.S. Kline)

Was Cynthia amused?

In fact, birthday poems, such as Propertius’ above, was a particular genre that emerged. Here is another example by Martial that speaks to the giving of gifts:

Let the hunter bring the hare, the farmer a young goat, the fisherman the spoils of the sea. if each one sends what he has, Restitutus, what do you think a poet with send to you?

(Martial, Epigrams, 10.87.17-20)

When it came to private birthdays, people celebrated with family and friends, and lovers.

They also celebrated the birthdays of their patrons, if they had any, and one such example comes to light in the form of a small ‘book’ that was given by the grammarian, Censorinus, to his patron, Quintus Caerellius, on the day of his birthday, c. A.D. 238.

But while other men honour only their own birthdays, yet I am bound every year by a double duty as regards this religious observance; for since it is from you and your friendship that I receive esteem, position, honour, and assistance, and in fact all the rewards of life, I consider it a sin if I celebrate your day, which brought you forth into this world for me, any less carefully than my own. For my own birthday gave me life, but yours has brought me the enjoyment and the rewards of life.

(Censorinus, De Die Natali 3.5-6)

It seems that one gave what one could, or was expert at, as birthday gifts.

However, though we know quite clearly that Romans celebrated birthdays, little is known of the actual practices on birthdays. What we do know is that birthdays were celebrated, gifts were given, and religious offerings were made in the household and at temples and shrines.

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

Banquets or parties were also held. The same as today, various foods, cakes, and wine were also consumed as part of birthday celebrations.

Perhaps one of the most wonderful examples we have of a birthday celebration is from one of the Vindolanda tablets, found along Hadrian’s Wall, which is actually a most sincere birthday party invitation from one woman to another:

Vindolanda Tablet. 291. Birthday Invitation of Sulpicia Lepidina, (romaninscriptionsofbritain.org)

Claudia Severa to her Lepidina greetings. On 11 September, sister, for the day of the celebration of my birthday, I give you a warm invitation to make sure that you come to us, to make the day more enjoyable for me by your arrival, if you are present. Give my greetings to your Cerialis. My Aelius and my little son send him their greetings. I shall expect you, sister. Farewell, sister, my dearest soul, as I hope to prosper, and hail.

(Vindolanda tablet #291, Birthday Invitation of Sulpicia Lepidina)

This artifact gives us a tantalizing and intimate look at the the role of birthdays in ancient Rome, or in this case, at the very edge of the Empire.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of birthdays in ancient Rome, however, is the almost symbiotic relationship between religion and the celebration of birthdays.

The following is a beautiful quote from Ovid in which the poet describes his own birthday celebration with the pious offering of cakes and prayers.

Thou awaitest, I suppose, thine honour in its wonted guise: a white robe hanging from my shoulders, a smoking altar garlanded with chaplets, the grains of incense snapping in the holy fire, and myself offering the cakes that mark my birthday and framing kindly petitions with pious lips.

(Ovid, Tristia 3.13)

In the world of ancient Rome, celebrating one’s own, or someone else’s birthday was not just about receiving visitors and gifts, or giving gifts and partying with friends at an excellent convivium.

To celebrate one’s birthday, or the birthday of someone else, was also the undertaking of a religious obligation that was to be expressed every year, through rituals and offerings.

Birthday rituals emphasized piety and sincerity, acknowledged the genius or god of that day, and they affirmed the bond between the person whose birthday it was, and those who cared for them.

That was a beautiful thing.

Thank you for reading.

 

*If you would like to read more posts in our very popular Ancient Everyday blog series, CLICK HERE for a list!

**For a more in depth article on the subject check out Birthday Rituals: Friends and Patrons in Roman Poetry and Cult by Kathryn Argetsinger.

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Honouring Love: Festivals of the Goddess in Ancient Greece and Rome

It’s mid-February now, and with that comes the so-called celebration of love we know today as St. Valentine’s Day. Cards, flowers, and chocolates abound at this time of year. Hopefully there is some poetry too! But the commercialism of it all seems a little strange, doesn’t it? So much so that I know people who are holding ‘anti-Valentines’ celebrations, or ‘Galantines’ for the ladies. Can’t say as I blame them.

I wonder what Valentinus, Bishop of Terni (Interamna), the third century Roman saint for whom this modern celebration is named, would say? He was, after all, martyred in Rome, imprisoned and tortured to death in A.D. 269 and then hastily buried along the Via Flaminia on February the fourteenth. This, for trying to get the emperor to embrace Christianity, or so it is said in one Medieval chronicle.

St. Valentine became associated with courtly love, and was the patron of beekeepers and epilepsy.

I’m all for courtly love, but it does feel like we’ve somewhat lost the thread on they way to the modern age.

St. Valentinus

Our capacity for love, you might say, is one of our greatest attributes as a species, and so it is well-worth celebrating more than one day of the year.

Before celebrations of St. Valentine’s martyrdom on February the fourteenth, Love, the goddess, was celebrated in different ways and guises.

Today, we’re going to be taking a brief look at some of the ways Love was honoured in the worlds of ancient Greece and Rome.

There is a lot we do not know of religious practices in the ancient world. Oftentimes, sources are scanty and there was a lot of regional variation when it came to traditions and honouring the various epithets of gods or goddesses.

The Goddess of Love is no different.

Aphrodite (330–300 B.C.) Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

I will sing of stately Aphrodite, gold-crowned and beautiful, whose dominion is the walled cities of all sea-set Cyprus. There the moist breath of the western wind wafted her over the waves of the loud-moaning sea in soft foam, and there the gold-filleted Hours welcomed her joyously. They clothed her with heavenly garments: on her head they put a fine, well-wrought crown of gold, and in her pierced ears they hung ornaments of orichalc and precious gold, and adorned her with golden necklaces over her soft neck and snow-white breasts, jewels which the gold-filleted Hours wear themselves whenever they go to their father’s house to join the lovely dances of the gods. And when they had fully decked her, they brought her to the gods, who welcomed her when they saw her, giving her their hands. Each one of them prayed that he might lead her home to be his wedded wife, so greatly were they amazed at the beauty of violet-crowned Cytherea.

(Homeric Hymn 6, To Aphrodite)

When it comes to love in the world of ancient Greece, there was none other than the Olympian goddess of Love, Beauty, and Fertility: Aphrodite.

She was the epitome of beauty and desire and was worshipped throughout the Greek world, and even influenced her Roman counterpart, Venus. Some believe Aphrodite might have evolved herself from the Mesopotamian goddess of love, Ishtar. She was also associated with the Egyptian goddess, Isis.

In the Greek world, Aphrodite was mainly a goddess of sexual love, generation, and of fertility. However, she was also associated with vegetation, the sea and seafaring (due to her birth from the sea). She was the patron of prostitutes as well and was worshipped as such in ancient Corinth where there was a practice of sacred prostitution in the sanctuary. In that place, according to the Greco-Roman historian, Strabo, the temple prostitutes played a key role in any ceremonies or offerings to honour the goddess.

In Sparta, Cyprus, and the island of Cythera (a mythical birthplace of the goddess), Aphrodite was also worshipped as a goddess of war.

Aphrodite’s legendary birthplace in Paphos, Cyprus (Wikimedia Commons)

As with many gods and goddesses, Aphrodite had a wide array of epithets which reflected many different aspects and traditions. Apart from Love, Aphrodite was also known as Aligena (sea born), Urania (heavenly), Pandemios (popular), Area (armed for war, as consort of Ares), Kourotrophos (nurse), and Epipontia (on the sea).

Gods and goddesses often have symbols that are sacred to them as well. For Aphrodite, two things that were most often associated with her, sacred to her, were myrtle and the dove. The rose too, was sacred to her.

Myrtle, Doves, and Purple Violets

When it comes to specific celebrations in honour of the Goddess of Love in the Greek world, we actually know very little. What we do know with some certainty relates to the Attic festivals.

In the world of ancient Greece, some of the gods’ birthdays were actually celebrated once a month. In ancient Athens, Aphrodite’s birthday was celebrated on the fourth day of every month.

However, the main, annual festival that was held in honour of Aphrodite was the Aphrodisia.

This festival was held in several places, especially in Attica and on Cyprus, during the month of Hekatombaion (July/August). Aphrodite was also worshipped in Cythera, Sparta, Thebes, Delos, and Elis.

The Aphrodisia is specifically mentioned in the sources at Corinth and Athens where prostitutes honoured their patron goddess.

Courtesan and her client, c. 430 BC, National Archaeological Museum of Athens (Wikimedia Commons)

On the sacred island of Delos, the Aphrodisia apparently involved the purchase of ropes, torches and wood.

There are a few rituals around the Aphrodisia that are known to us. Firstly, it seems that temples of Aphrodite were purified with the blood of doves, the bird that was sacred to the goddess. After this, no blood sacrifices (usually male, white goats) were permitted during the festival. The preferred offerings were fire, flowers, and incense.

Celebrations of the Aphrodisia also included processions carrying images or statues of the goddess which were then washed with water. In Cyprus, one of her legendary birthplaces, initiates of the goddess’ mysteries were given salt from the sea, and bread shaped like a phallus.

Temple of Aphrodite, Aphrodisias, Caria (Wikimedia Commons)

Two aspects of Aphrodite indicate the different loves she represented to the Greeks. On the one hand, you had Aphrodite Urania who symbolized spiritual or celestial love. On the other hand, there was Aphrodite Pandemos. This love went beyond sex or romantic love. She represented earthly, non-spiritual love in that it was about civic and interpersonal harmony. 

It is believed that the worship of Aphrodite Pandemos was begun by Theseus, King of Athens, who founded her shrine in the agora of the city. In that place, the rituals, once again, included the sacrifice of doves and the washing of the goddess’ statues, but also the coating of the temple roof with pitch and, strangely, the purchase of purple cloth.

Surprisingly, Aphrodite seems to have had fewer festivals held in her honour, compared with her fellow Olympians. However, it would be a mistake to discount this goddess, for she was beautiful and powerful, and could bring as much devastation and she could joy and pleasure. The heroes at Troy could attest to that!

Venus de Milo (Louvre Museum)

Mother of Rome, delight of Gods and men,

Dear Venus that beneath the gliding stars

Makest to teem the many-voyaged main

And fruitful lands- for all of living things

Through thee alone are evermore conceived,

Through thee are risen to visit the great sun-

Before thee, Goddess, and thy coming on,

Flee stormy wind and massy cloud away,

For thee the daedal Earth bears scented flowers,

For thee waters of the unvexed deep

Smile, and the hollows of the serene sky

Glow with diffused radiance for thee!

For soon as comes the springtime face of day,

And procreant gales blow from the West unbarred,

First fowls of air, smit to the heart by thee,

Foretoken thy approach, O thou Divine,

And leap the wild herds round the happy fields

Or swim the bounding torrents. Thus amain,

Seized with the spell, all creatures follow thee

Whithersoever thou walkest forth to lead,

And thence through seas and mountains and swift streams,

Through leafy homes of birds and greening plains,

Kindling the lure of love in every breast,

Thou bringest the eternal generations forth,

Kind after kind. And since ’tis thou alone

Guidest the Cosmos, and without thee naught

Is risen to reach the shining shores of light,

Nor aught of joyful or of lovely born,

Thee do I crave co-partner in that verse

Which I presume on Nature to compose

For Memmius mine, whom thou hast willed to be

Peerless in every grace at every hour-

Wherefore indeed, Divine one, give my words

Immortal charm. Lull to a timely rest

O’er sea and land the savage works of war,

For thou alone hast power with public peace

To aid mortality; since he who rules

The savage works of battle, powerful Mars,

How often to thy bosom flings his strength

O’ermastered by the eternal wound of love-

And there, with eyes and full throat backward thrown,

Gazing, my Goddess, open-mouthed at thee,

Pastures on love his greedy sight, his breath

Hanging upon thy lips. Him thus reclined

Fill with thy holy body, round, above!

Pour from those lips soft syllables to win

Peace for the Romans, glorious Lady, peace!

For in a season troublous to the state

Neither may I attend this task of mine

With thought untroubled, nor mid such events

The illustrious scion of the Memmian house

Neglect the civic cause.

(De Rerum Natura, Lucretius 1.1)

When it comes to the world of ancient Rome, the Goddess of Love seemed to hold more sway over the world than she might have done in ancient Greece.

In ancient Rome, Venus was not only the mother of Rome’s mythic founder, the Trojan Hero Aeneas, she was also venerated by some of the most powerful families in Rome’s history, such as the Julii, who claimed descent from her.

It is from the world of ancient Rome that some of the most beautiful words have been written about Love.

But who was the Goddess Venus, and how did she differ from her earlier, Greek counterpart?

Aphrodite and Anchises with baby Aeneas

In truth, Venus was closely aligned with Aphrodite. She even acquired the latter’s mythology such that the two became one over time.

However, before the Greek influence of Aphrodite, Venus was originally an Italic goddess of fertility, vegetable gardens, fruit, and flowers. This is not unlike the god Mars who was also, originally, a god of agriculture before he became the God of War. In Roman religion, Venus and Mars were also consorts, and came to represent the polar opposites of male and female.

Venus and Mars (mid-1st century CE) from a fresco at Pompeii (Wikimedia Commons)

Like Aphrodite, Venus too had many epithets highlighting the differing aspects of her which Romans worshipped. There was Venus Verticordia (Changer of Hearts), Venus Victrix (Venus Victorious), and Venus Genetrix (Universal Mother). There was also Venus Erycina, who was worshipped at two temples in Rome and was named after a sanctuary on Mount Eryx in Sicily. Her temples were frequented by prostitutes.

Venus Cloacina (Purifier) may have sprung from an earlier water deity, and her statue and shrine were dedicated at the end of the Sabine Wars on the spot where peace was concluded. Thereafter, ritual purifications took place there.

Venus Felix (Favourable) had one of the largest temples in Rome which was built by Hadrian. This was a large double-ended temple with two cellae opposite the Colosseum. It is known today as the temple of Venus and Rome, that is, the temple of Venus Felix and Roma Aeterna. 

Venus Libertina (Venus the Freedwoman) is another epithet of the goddess, though some scholars believe this has been confused with Libentina, which means ‘pleasurable’ or ‘passionate’.

Finally, Venus Obsequens refers to ‘Indulgent’ or ‘Gracious’ Venus whose temple was built after the Samnite Wars in c. 295 B.C. at the foot of the Aventine Hill, near the Circus Maximus.

If there was something you could say about the Romans, it is that they loved their festivals. And, unlike the Greeks who seem to have honoured love with just a couple festivals (that we know of) outside her monthly birthday celebrations, the Romans had a few occasions during the year when they honoured Venus.

The biggest festival in honour of Venus, and perhaps the one that you could say is a predecessor to Valentine’s Day, is Veneralia, the festival of Venus Verticordia, the ‘Changer of Hearts’. This festival took place on the Kalends of April (April 1st) and was, supposedly, marked by expressions of love, offerings to the goddess at her shrines and temples, and the ritual washing of the statues or images of Venus herself. The temple of Venus Verticordia in Rome was apparently built in 114 B.C. to atone for the unchastity of three Vestal Virgins who broke their vows.

Fresco from Pompeii

On April the twenty-third came the festival of Vinalia Priora to celebrate wine production. This festival was originally connected with Jupiter, the King of the Gods. However, Vinalia later came to be associated with Venus in her capacity as an agricultural deity or goddess of fertility.

Venus Victrix (Venus Victorious) was important to the Romans and, as such, she was honoured at two festivals in ancient Rome. The first on the calendar was held on the twelfth day of August. This was held from 55 B.C. when the temple of Venus Victrix, built atop the new theatre of Pompey, was dedicated by Pompey Magnus himself. Venus Victrix was also celebrated at another festival on the ninth of October.

Theatre of Pompey with the Temple of Venus at the top of the auditorium. (top centre)

The last major festival of Venus held in Rome was the festival of Venus Genetrix, (Universal Mother). As the divine mother of the Trojan hero, Aeneas, she was considered the ancestral mother of the Roman people, and was worshipped as such.

In ancient Rome, it seemed that not only was the goddess Venus worshipped as Goddess of Love, Beauty, and as the patron of courtesans, she was also worshipped as a bringer of victory, as a divine mother, and also in her original guise as a goddess of the land and fertility.

To the Romans, Love, it seems, had many faces.

The Birth of Venus (Sandro Botticelli, c. 1484–1486) (Uffizi Gallery, Florence)

Everyone has a different opinion of love, of what love is, its importance in the universe, the world, and in society as a whole. Love has been worshipped as something, or someone, great and earth-shattering, or as something so intimate it can only be spoken of in whispers.

In my opinion, Love makes this life worth living.

It is no coincidence that Love is the inspiration and focal point of some of humanity’s greatest artistic accomplishments, be it in poetry or prose, painting, music, or carefully-shaped marble.

The Goddess of Love, in whatever form she took, or epithet she bore, could be both terrible and beautiful beyond imagining and, as such, She was worshipped and honoured by the ancients throughout the year.

We will leave you now with the words of Ovid, one of the greatest poets of ancient Rome to write about Love…

You, who in Cupid’s roll inscribe your name,

First seek an object worthy of your flame;

Then strive, with art, your lady’s mind to gain;

And last, provide your love may long remain.

On these three precepts all my work shall move:

These are the rules and principles of love.

Before your youth with marriage is oppress’t,

Make choice of one who suits your humour best

And such a damsel drops not from the sky;

She must be sought for with a curious eye.

The wary angler, in the winding brook,

Knows what the fish, and where to bait his hook.

The fowler and the huntsman know by name

The certain haunts and harbour of their game.

So must the lover beat the likeliest grounds;

Th’ Assemblies where his quarries most abound:

Nor shall my novice wander far astray;

These rules shall put him in the ready way.

Thou shalt not fail around the continent,

As far as Perseus or as Paris went:

For Rome alone affords thee such a store,

As all the world can hardly shew thee more.

The face of heav’n with fewer stars is crown’d,

Than beauties in the Roman sphere are found.

Whether thy love is bent on blooming youth,

On dawning sweetness, in unartful truth;

Or courts the juicy joys of riper growth;

Here may’st thou find thy full desires in both:

Or if autumnal beauties please thy sight

(An age that knows to give and take delight;)

Millions of matrons, of the graver sort,

In common prudence, will not balk the sport.

In summer’s heats thou need’st but only go

To Pompey’s cool and shady portico;

Or Concord’s fane; or that proud edifice

Whose turrets near the bawdy suburbs rise;

Or to that other portico, where stands

The cruel father urging his commands.

And fifty daughters wait the time of rest,

To plunge their poniards in the bridegroom’s breast.

Or Venus‘ temple; where, on annual nights,

They mourn Adonis with Assyrian rites.

Nor shun the Jewish walk, where the foul drove

On sabbaths rest from everything but love.

Nor Isis’ temple; for that sacred whore

Makes others, what to Jove she was before;

And if the hall itself be not belied,

E’en there the cause of love is often tried;

Near it at least, or in the palace yard,

From whence the noisy combatants are heard.

The crafty counsellors, in formal gown,

There gain another’s cause, but lose their own.

Their eloquence is nonpluss’d in the suit;

And lawyers, who had words at will, are mute.

Venus from her adjoining temple smiles

To see them caught in their litigious wiles;

Grave senators lead home the youthful dame,

Returning clients when they patrons came.

But above all, the Playhouse is the place;

There’s choice of quarry in that narrow chase:

There take thy stand, and sharply looking out,

Soon may’st thou find a mistress in the rout,

For length of time or for a single bout.

The Theatres are berries for the fair;

Like ants or mole-hills thither they repair;

Like bees to hives so numerously they throng,

It may be said they to that place belong:

Thither they swarm who have the public voice;

There choose, if plenty not distracts thy choice.

To see, and to be seen, in heaps they run;

Some to undo, and some to be undone. 

(Ovid, Ars Amatoria, 35)

 

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Theatres in Ancient Rome

Salvete, ancient history-lovers!

Welcome back to the blog and the first post of the New Year on Writing the Past!

Over the years, one of the main goals of this blog has been to share the research I have been doing, whether it is for a fiction work-in-progress, or a wish to share some added knowledge about the ancient world.

For the past few months, I’ve been deep into writing a new novel (a comedy!) set in ancient Rome which has taken me deep into the world of Roman theatre. Today, I would like to share a little snippet of the research that went into this new work of historical fiction.

One of the main questions I had when I set out on this latest project was around the physical structures of the Roman theatre. Of course, I knew about ancient Greek theatres, having visited several in my travels over the years. But what about Roman theatres? Did the Romans simply re-use Greek odea? Did the Romans build their own theatres and, if so, how did they differ from those built by the Greeks?

In this blog post, we’re going to be taking a brief look at theatres in ancient Rome and how they differed structurally from those of the Greeks.

The ancient theatre of Epidaurus

The ancient Greeks were, of course, the progenitors of drama and the theatre. When one thinks of ancient theatre, it’s difficult not to think first of an ancient Greek theatre such as the the magnificent, and still-used, example at ancient Epidaurus in the Peloponnese. Or even the beautiful, silent ruins of the great theatre of Argos. It is quite an experience to sit in the ancient seats and not feel some sort of communal awe from centuries past, looking out to the distant mountains or sea beyond the stage where ancient actors would have enacted stories of gods, goddesses, heroes, and the trials and tribulations of everyday people on their journey through this life.

The ancient Greek playwrights – Euripides, Sophocles, Aeschylus, Aristophanes and others – had a way delving deep into the heart of human emotion and experience and making people linger there so that they would, hopefully, come out of it a bit more enlightened. And in a setting such as those ancient theatres, it would be hard not to.

Having seen comedic and tragic plays performed while sitting with thousands of others beneath the stars is an experience I shall never forget.

But even if one is not moved by the words spoken by the actors, it is difficult not to marvel at the genius of the architecture that allows the audience at the top of the seats to hear a whispered word spoken from the centre of the orchestra.

Ancient theatres really are engineering wonders!

The ancient theatre of Argos, Peloponnese, Greece.

Of course, the men of the Tiber knew a good thing when they saw it, and so they eventually adopted drama and theatres while adding their own Roman flair.

But this took some time, and some convincing…

Drama and theatre first came to Rome through contact with the Greek cities to the south and the Etruscans to the north, who had regular contact with the Greeks. It might have been looked upon with suspicion by conservative Romans at first, but eventually, drama would take hold of the Roman people.

Etruscan Entertainers

In 364 B.C., the Roman Republic was hit by a plague, and in an effort to please the gods and entreat their aid, Rome vowed to hold theatrical festivals in their honour.

To do this, Etruscan actors were brought in and the rest is history. This considered by some to be the start of this new entertainment for the Roman public, an entertainment inspired by the Greek cities of southern Italy.

Theatre of Dionysos, Athens

Plays were originally performed in Greek, but over time Latin playwrights emerged, such as Plautus, Terence, and others. Of course, there were tragedies and comedies in the beginning, but then folk and bawdy plays began to take hold, and the mimes and pantomimes became the most popular among ancient Romans.

To read more about the types of literature in ancient Rome, including drama, CLICK HERE.

We’ll discuss the different types of drama and its evolution in another post at a later date, suffice it to say that theatrical performances eventually became nearly as popular as chariot racing and gladiatorial combat in ancient Rome.

Temple of Antoninus and Faustina, Roman Forum. Play were sometimes performed on temple steps such as this.

There may have been theatres dotted all over territories which Rome had conquered early on, but in the city of Rome itself, there were no stone theatres at first, not like in Greek cities where a theatre was a given sign of civilization.

Early dramatic performances in ancient Rome were either performed on the steps of temples or on temporary wooden stages which were constructed in the Circus Maximus or Roman Forum for festivals. After the performances were finished, they were torn down.

Despite the popular appeal of drama in ancient Rome, conservative elements had a deep dislike of the theatre, viewing it as ‘too Greek’ and opposed to Roman values. The theatre – especially the mimes and pantomimes – were viewed as lewd, and this is a view that continued into the Christian era.

But, even among conservative Romans, it was hard to fight popular appeal, and the theatre was indeed growing in popularity.

Roman Re-enactors on the steps of a temple in Spain (photo: Turismo de Merida)

As we know, the Romans loved their games, or ludi, and by sponsoring these games, Roman magistrates had found a way to win the political favour – and hence, votes! – of the people.

Some examples of games which featured theatrical performances were the Ludi Apollinaris in honour of Apollo (July 6-13) and the Ludi Megalenses in honour of Cybele (April 4-10). 

The building of theatres became a way to win the favour of the people. Unlike today when, sadly, theatre is viewed as something more for the elite or well-to-do, the theatre was, in ancient Rome, for people of all classes!

As mentioned, at first theatres in Rome were temporary and constructed of wood, but as time went on, even these wooden ones became more elaborate.

Artist Impression of temporary wooden stage of Roman period (image: Jean Raia)

In 58 B.C. Marcus Aemilius Scaurus built a wooden stage for performances, but this one had columns of African marble, as well as statues, glass, gold and fabrics to adorn it. The people loved it!

In 52/51 B.C. Gaius Scribonius Curio even built two moveable semi-circular theatres that could be pushed together to build an amphitheatre so that plays could be performed during the day and gladiatorial games viewed at night!

Eventually the time would come when Rome would receive its first stone theatre, despite conservative opposition, and this was given to the people by none other than Pompey the Great.

Reconstruction of the Theatre of Pompey in Rome with attached gardens and temple above the theatre seating.

From 61-55 B.C., Pompey built a magnificent stone theatre for Rome, and he appears to have used his general’s wiles to get it done in a way that tricked conservative dictates. You see, this was not only a theatre, but also a temple complex dedicated to the goddess Venus herself.

Atop the great theatre of Pompey, resting above and behind the seats of the auditorium, was a magnificent temple of Venus. The argument was, it seems, that the theatre itself was simply the substructure of the temple, the ‘real’ purpose of the construction. The gods were now present in the theatre, and no one would have dared to tear it down!

The theatre of Pompey is now, perhaps sadly, known as the place where Julius Caesar was murdered (the senate was meeting there at the time), but more importantly, it was the beginning of a greater acceptance of theatre in the city of Rome.

Indeed, after the accession of Augustus, one of his supporters, one Lucius Cornelius Balbus, built a second stone theatre in Rome, on the Campus Martius, known today as the Theatre of Balbus. It was also roughly about the same time that the Theatre of Marcellus was also dedicated and ready for use by the time of the ludi saeculares of 17 B.C.

Rome now had three large, permanent theatres.

Model of the Theatre of Balbus

These permanent Roman theatres, however, were more than places to stage dramatic performances. They were also meeting places that incorporated religious elements. There were temples, and gardens and courtyards where people could stroll between acts, or meet outside of performances. They became part of the fabric of the city of ancient Rome.

But what were the structural differences between ancient Greek and Roman theatres?

It is impossible to deny the simple beauty of ancient Greek theatres, and the brilliance of their acoustic design. It is truly astounding to sit at the top of the seats and hear someone drop a coin or light a match in the middle of the orchestra!

Plan of an Ancient Greek Theatre

Roman theatres were of course, based on Greek designs. Even the Romans could not deny the acoustic uses!

But whereas Greek theatres, or odea, were normally built into a hillside and had round orchestras where the performance took place, Roman theatres were more often stand-alone structures with semi-circular orchestras where seating was reserved for high-ranking officials, senators, or members of the imperial family. Roman theatres were constructed with solid masonry or vaults that supported the curved or sloping auditorium seats, or cavea. This design sometimes included a colonnaded gallery around the outside that gave easier access to the tiers of seats.

Plan of a Typical Roman Theatre

Another innovation given to the theatre by the Romans was the inclusion of a curtain before the stage. Today, it is hard not to think of a curtain in a theatre, and we owe this to the Romans. The difference was that where today the curtain hangs from above, in a Roman theatre, the curtain, or aulaeum as it was known, retracted into a pit in the floor before the stage at the beginning of the performance, and rose out of it at the end.

The most noticeable difference between Greek and Roman theatres, however, was the Roman scaena.

In an ancient Greek theatre, initially, the chorus and actors performed on the round orchestra, but later on, a raised stage, or proskenion, was incorporated. At the back of this stage, they began to build a one or two-story backdrop known as a skene, the ‘scene’ before which the action took place, and behind which the actors could change. The Greek skene did not obstruct the view beyond the theatre, however, but rather just provided the ornate backdrop.

The Roman scaena, however, was much more substantial, for it more or less enclosed theatre completely and provided a full divider between the audience and backstage.

Scaenae frons in Roman theatres had three or five doors flanked by columns and statues in niches. The scaena and its doors could provide the setting for a street scene, houses, palaces etc., and sometimes it was even sectioned off with smaller curtains called siparia as needed.

The Roman-era theatre of Herodes Atticus, Athens

The Roman scaena also rose to the full height of the theatre itself, either level with the rear seats of the auditorium, or even higher. There was also a wooden roof above the stage of Roman theatres that also acted as a sounding board.

It wasn’t just the actors who were protected from above either, for in some Roman theatres there could also be an awning above the auditorium known as a velarium, to shield the viewers from sun and rain. Roman theatres also had covered porticoes where audience members could go between performances.

The Romans did like their comfort!

The Roman theatre in Thugga, Tunisia.

Were Roman theatres built across the Empire once Rome had made its own innovations in theatrical architecture?

Well, it seems the Romans did make adjustments to some Greek theatres by adding their own scaenae. However, especially in the Hellenistic east, Greek odea continued to be used, only just for more refined performances of music and poetry recitations rather than for populist mimes and pantomimes.

Romans continued to use the odeon design when called for, but sometimes with the addition of a roof. This type of smaller, enclosed and roofed theatre was known as a theatrum tectum. An example of this is the one built in Pompeii in 79 B.C.

Aerial view of theatres of Pompeii. Note the theatrum tectum on bottom right which would have been fully enclosed.

When it comes to theatres and theatrical performance, whatever the genre, the Greeks and Romans did have this in common: theatre was extremely popular with the people and important for the social life of the community, be it in the cultured metropolises of the Empire, or on the distant borders, far from the beating heart of Rome.

The Greeks may have invented theatres, but some might argue that it was the Romans who perfected them.

Roman Theatre of Aspendos, in modern Turkey, is one of the most intact Roman theatres in the world. (Wikimedia Commons)

More posts about Roman theatre are coming soon, but if you are interested, you can check out my previous posts about my visits to the theatres of ancient Argos, and ancient Epidaurus.

Be sure to also check out the post on Literature in Ancient Rome which includes a short discussion of Roman drama.

Thank you for reading!

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Io Saturnalia! – The Great Festival Through the Eyes of Ancient Romans

Io Saturnalia, Romanophiles!

It’s that time of year again, the time which the Roman poet Catullus referred to as optimo dierum, the ‘best of days’.

From December the 17th to the 23rd, Romans and people across the Empire would celebrate Saturn, the Winter Solstice, and the Unconquerable Sun. It can only be described as a joyous, indulgent carnival atmosphere that involved, eating, drinking, candles, holly, gifts, music, gambling, dressing up (or down!) and more. In fact many of the traditions of Saturnalia have informed our own traditions of Christmastime.

To read all about the specific traditions of Saturnalia, check out the previous post entitled Io Saturnalia! – Celebrating ‘The best of days’ in Ancient Rome by CLICKING HERE.

This year, we’re going to be looking at the festival of Saturnalia from a different angle, that is, through the eyes of ancient writers!

What did Saturnalia mean for people in ancient Rome? Was it like Christmas for us today? Did they look forward it? Did they dread the expense and preparation it required to entertain or put a smile upon the faces of their familiae?

In this brief blog post, we’re going to hear from several ancient authors about what they thought of the various aspects of this ancient and sacred festival…

The Gods Command You to Have a Good Time!

The rule of Saturnus was thought to be a mythological ‘golden age’ for Rome, and this festival harkens back to that. It honours Saturn who was the chthonic (of the earth) Roman god of seed sowing, who was often equated with the Greek god Cronus.

The Greek writer, Lucian of Samosata (c. 125-180 CE), in his dialogue, Saturnalia, relates a conversation between the god Cronus (ie. Saturn) and his priest, in which he declares that people should enjoy themselves during his festival:

Mine is a limited monarchy, you see. To begin with, it only lasts a week; that over, I am a private person, just a man in the street. Secondly, during my week the serious is barred; no business allowed. Drinking and being drunk, noise and games and dice, appointing of kings and feasting of slaves, singing naked, clapping of tremulous hands, an occasional ducking of corked faces in icy water,–such are the functions over which I preside. But the great things, wealth and gold and such, Zeus distributes as he will.

(Lucian, Saturnalia II)

This one paragraph is a wonderful source for us today because it highlights some of the most important traditions and activities of Saturnalia. and if the Gods command it, well, you HAVE to obey!

But Saturnalia was not always seven days in duration. At first, it was only a single day. As it grew in popularity, however, this expanded.

The ancient author Macrobius Theodosius Ambrosius (c. 400 CE), usually referred to simply as Macrobius, wrote what is perhaps the most famous work on this ancient festival. He acknowledges and praises the changes that led to a longer festival:

Long awaited, the seven Saturnalia are now at hand… “Our ancestors instituted many fine customs, and this is the best: from the deepest chill they produced the seven-day Saturnalia.”

(Macrobius, Saturnalia 10.3)

In addition to a lengthy period of merrymaking, just as today, things shut down for a few days. From December 17th, to December 19th, everything closed in Rome. No business was transacted and no war was waged. In a way, everyone was bound by divine decree to enjoy themselves!

Enjoy the Feast!

Just as with our own sacred days, food and eating played a major part in the Saturnalian festivities. The main sacrifice to Saturn consisted of a suckling pig, and this is what most Romans ate, if they could afford it.

The roman authorities also put on public feasts for the people of Rome, so everyone got a chance to enjoy and indulge a little. This convivium publicum was held in the Roman forum and the image of the God Saturn, presided over it.

The famous Roman historian, Titus Livius (c. 64 BCE – 12 CE), wrote about this public feast:

Finally-the month was now December – victims were slain at the temple of Saturn in Rome and a lectisternium was ordered – this time senators administered the rite – and a public feast, and throughout the City for a day and a night “Saturnalia” was cried, and the people were bidden to keep that day as a holiday and observe it in perpetuity.

(Livy, The History of Rome, Book I, XXII – 1.19)

Saturnalia was indeed a time of good will and everyone, rich and poor, master and slave, enjoyed some portion of the festivities.

A Time of Opposites

One thing that was unique to Saturnalia was the encouragement to do the opposite of what was considered normal. Rules were meant to be broken. For example, public gambling was encouraged without risk of punishment, but they did not gamble with coin, but rather, with hazelnuts! Instead of their usual toga or tunic, men wore a brightly coloured garment called a synthesis, and a pointy felt cap called a pileus. Priests at the temples and the paterfamiliae in private homes, who usually made sacrifices with their heads covered, made sacrifices during Saturnalia with their heads uncovered in the ritus Graecus, the ‘Greek fashion’.

Perhaps the most well-known, and looked-forward-to tradition for some, was the role reversal of master and slave. At one point during Saturnalia, the masters prepared and served dinner to their slaves, and gave them presents as well. Macrobius describes this for us:

Meanwhile, the head of the slave household, whose responsibility it was to offer sacrifice to the Penates, to manage the provisions and to direct the activities of the domestic servants, came to tell his master that the household had feasted according to the annual ritual custom. For at this festival, in houses that keep the proper religious usage, they first of all honour the slaves with a dinner prepared as if for the master; and only afterwards is the table set again for the head of the household. So, then, the chief slave came in to announce the time of dinner and to summon the masters to the table.

(Macrobius, Saturnalia, 1.24.22-23)

In the above quote, Macrobius references ‘houses that keep the proper religious usage’, and so, by this reference, one has to infer that there were houses where such traditions were not kept, religious or not. Surely there were houses where the slaves of the familia were treated better than in others? Those slaves whose masters observed the proper traditions of Saturnalia were, no doubt, the envy of others whose masters took a more miserly view of Saturnalia.

It does seem like most masters were happy to honour the tradition of trading places with their slaves for part of the festival, but no doubt some masters had to deal with impertinent slaves as well!

In his Satyricon, Gaius Petronius Arbiter (27-66 CE), often known simply as Petronius, refers to masters having to deal with impudent slaves during a feast, and of giving gifts to slaves:

Taking everything that was said for high praise, the foul slave now drew an earthenware lamp from his bosom, and for more than half an hour mimicked a trumpeter, while Habinnas accompanied him, squeezing his lip down with his fingers. Finally he actually stepped out into the middle of the room, and first imitated a flute player by means of broken reeds; then with riding-cloak and whip, acted the muleteer, till Habinnas called him to his side and kissed him, gave him a drink and cried, “Bravo! Massa, bravo! I’ll give you a pair of boots.”

We should never have seen the end of these tiresome inflictions but for the extra-course now coming in,- thrushes of pastry, stuffed with raisins and walnuts, followed by quinces stuck over with thorns, to represent sea-urchins. This would have been intolerable enough, had it not been for a still more outlandish dish, such a horrible concoction, we would rather have died than touch it. Directly it was on the table,- to all appearance a fatted goose, with fish and fowl of all kinds round it. “Friends,” cried Trimalchio, “every single thing you see on that dish is made out of one substance.” With my wonted perspicacity, I instantly guessed its nature, and said, giving Agamemnon a look, “For my own part, I shall be greatly surprised, if it is not all made of filth, or at any rate mud. When I was in Rome at the Saturnalia, I saw some sham eatables of the same sort.” I had not done speaking when Trimalchio explained, “As I hope to grow a bigger man,- in fortune I mean, not fat,- I declare my cook made it every bit out of a pig. Never was a more invaluable fellow! Give the word, he’ll make you a fish of the paunch, a wood-pigeon of the lard, a turtle-dove of the forehand, and a hen of the hind leg! And that’s why I very cleverly gave him such a fine and fitting name as Daedalus. And because he’s such a good servant, I brought him a present from Rome, a set of knives of Noric steel.” These he immediately ordered to be brought, and examined and admired them, even allowing us to try their edge on our cheeks.

(Petronius, Satyricon LXIX)

One imagines that a master could, when in company, be embarrassed by his slaves’ behaviour as is so hilariously portrayed by Petronius above. Though the feast of Trimalchio in Satyricon is not a Saturnalia feast, it carries many similarities, as well as a reference to the sacred festival.

But it was not only slaves who sought to call upon Saturnalia for better treatment from their masters. Cassius Dio, in The Roman History, relays how the troops in Britannia, under the command of Aulus Plautius, invoke Saturnalia when they are most upset with their commander:

While these events were happening in the city, Aulus Plautius, a senator of great renown, made a campaign against Britain; for a certain Bericus, who had been driven out of the island as a result of an uprising, had persuaded Claudius to send a force thither. Thus it came about that Plautius undertook this campaign; but he had difficulty in inducing his army to advance beyond Gaul. For the soldiers were indignant at the thought of carrying on a campaign outside the limits of the known world, and would not yield him obedience until Narcissus, who had been sent out by Claudius, mounted the tribunal of Plautius and attempted to address them. Then they became much angrier at this and would not allow Narcissus to say a word, but suddenly shouted with one accord the well-known cry, “Io Saturnalia” (for at the festival of Saturn the slaves don their masters’ dress and old festival), and at once right willingly followed Plautius…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History LX 19)

A Time of Gift-Giving

December the 19th, the third day of Saturnalia, was the all-important day of the sigillaria. Sigillaria were gifts that were given to family members, to friends, guests, and even to slaves.

Just as today at Christmas, gifts given at Saturnalia varied widely and in accordance with one’s budget and social status. The poet Marcus Varlerius Matialis (c. 38-102 CE), known as Martial, wrote about the giving of gifts at Saturnalia:

Now, while the knights and the lordly senators delight in the festive robe, and the cap of liberty is assumed by our Jupiter; and while the slave, as he rattles the dice-box, has no fear of the Aedile, seeing that the ponds are so nearly frozen, learn alternately what is allotted to the rich and to the poor. Let each make suitable presents to his friends. That these contributions of mine are follies and trifles, and even worse, who does not know? or who denies what is so evident? But what can I do better, Saturn, on these days of pleasure, which your son himself has consecrated to you in compensation for the heaven from which he ejected you? Would you have me write of Thebes, or of Troy, or of the crimes of Mycenae? You reply, “Play with nuts. But I don’t want to waste even nuts. Reader, you may finish this book wherever you please, every subject is completed in a couple of lines.

(Martial, Epigrams XIV)

Martial seems to have especially enjoyed the gift-giving aspect of Saturnalia, for his works, Xenia, and Apophoreta, were apparently given as gifts during this ancient festival. In his Epigrams, he also gives a long list of gifts that are suitable for Saturnalia, and there is something to fit every budget.

Some of the possible gifts for guests at feasts which Martial lists include tablets (of wood or ivory); coffers (wood to hold silver, ivory to hold gold); a dice box; a gaming table; a pen case; toothpicks; ear picks; hair pins; combs; balls; hats; knives; spears; a sword and belt; a dagger; a bookcase; bundles of reed pens; candles (cerei); candlesticks; games; balls; dumbbells; leather caps; strigils; flasks; horse whips; reed pipes; slippers; pigs; various birds; vases; cups; furniture etc. etc.

Cut Out That Racket!

Not everyone enjoyed Saturnalia, however, and just as many may not look forward to the holidays today, so too did some Romans dread the advent of Saturn’s festival.

How many of us, when caught up in the chaos of entertaining and large family gatherings (before our modern plague, that is), longed for some quiet time to catch our breath? The introverts among us especially need occasion to recharge before heading back into the partying throng, no?

It was the same for the Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus (c. 61-113 CE), Pliny the Younger, who relayed his need to escape the festivities:

Adjoining it is an ante-room and a chamber projected towards the sun, which the latter room catches immediately upon his rising, and retains his rays beyond mid-day though they fall aslant upon it. When I betake myself into this sitting-room, I seem to be quite away even from my villa, and I find it delightful to sit there, especially during the Saturnalia, when all the rest of the house rings with the merriment and shouts of the festival-makers; for then I do not interfere with their amusements, and they do not distract me from my studies.

(Pliny the Younger, Epistles II.17.24)

Pliny doesn’t seem to want to be a party-pooper, and so kindly withdraws to allow his guests to carry on with their revelry. 

However, not everyone would have been so kind.

Enter Lucius Annaeus Seneca (c. 4-65 CE), the Scrooge of his age, it seems, for he paints a dire and distasteful picture of the Saturnalian revels going on around him:

It is the month of December, and yet the city is at this very moment in a sweat. Licence is given to the general merrymaking. Everything resounds with mighty preparations, – as if the Saturnalia differed at all from the usual business day! So true it is that the difference is nil, that I regard as correct the remark of the man who said: “Once December was a month; now it is a year.”

If I had you with me, I should be glad to consult you and find out what you think should be done, – whether we ought to make no change in our daily routine, or whether, in order not to be out of sympathy with the ways of the public, we should dine in gayer fashion and doff the toga. As it is now, we Romans have changed our dress for the sake of pleasure and holiday-making, though in former times that was only customary when the State was disturbed and had fallen on evil days. I am sure that, if I know you aright, playing the part of an umpire you would have wished that we should be neither like the liberty-capped throng in all ways, nor in all ways unlike them; unless, perhaps, this is just the season when we ought to lay down the law to the soul, and bid it be alone in refraining from pleasures just when the whole mob has let itself go in pleasures; for this is the surest proof which a man can get of his own constancy, if he neither seeks the things which are seductive and allure him to luxury, nor is led into them. It shows much more courage to remain dry and sober when the mob is drunk and vomiting; but it shows greater self-control to refuse to withdraw oneself and to do what the crowd does, but in a different way, – thus neither making oneself conspicuous nor becoming one of the crowd. For one may keep holiday without extravagance.

(Seneca, Epistles XVIII, Letters to Lucilius)

A Time of Hope

Even though some people, like Seneca, seemed to dread the coming of Saturnalia, for most it was a time of hope and celebration, a time to honour Saturn and each other, and to celebrate the Solstice and the Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, the birthday of the Unconquerable Sun.

It was something to look forward to at the darkest time of year.

Perhaps not that much changes? In the West, many of us look forward to December and the celebrations that do stretch on for some time.

The Greco-Roman poet, Publius Papinius Statius (c. 45-96 CE), in one of his poems, relates the feelings of hope and joy which many must have felt with the coming of December:

Mighty Apollo, and stern Pallas

And you Muses, away and play!

We’ll recall you on Janus’ Kalends.

Let unchained Saturn join with me,

And December soaked with wine,

Smiling Humour and wanton Jest,

While of happy Caesar’s joyous

Day I tell, and of tipsy feasting.

Scarce had Aurora brought the dawn,

And already good things rained down:

These the dews the easterly sprinkled:

Whichever are best of Pontic nuts,

And dates from Idume’s fertile hills,

And plums pious Damascus grows,

And figs Ebusos and Caunos ripen,

Freely the lavish spoils descend.

And pastries and ‘little Gaiuses’

Ameria’s un-dried apples and pears,

Spiced cakes and ripened dates,

Shower from an unseen palm.

Not stormy Hyas drenches Earth

Nor the Pleiades with such showers

As rattled down on the Latian theatre

Like bursts of hail from a clear sky.

Let Jupiter cloud the whole world

Threaten to deluge the open fields,

So long as our Jove brings such rain.

Look, along the aisles comes another

Crowd, handsome and finely dressed,

No less in number than those seated!

These bring bread-baskets and white

Napkins, and elegant delicacies to eat,

Those pour out mellow wine freely:

So many cupbearers down from Ida.

The fourteen rows, now virtuous, sober,

Are fed, with the people wearing gowns;

And since you nourish so many, Lord,

Annona, the price of corn’s, outweighed.

Ages, compare now, if it’s your wish,

Old Saturn’s centuries, golden days:

Never flowed wine so, even then,

Nor did harvest anticipate new year.

Every order eats here at the one table:

Women, children, knights, plebs, Senate:

Freedom has set aside reverence.

Why you yourself (which of the gods

Issues and accepts his own invitation?)

Have come to the feast along with us.

Now all, now whoever, rich or poor

Can boast of dining with our leader.

Amid the din, and rich novelties,

The pleasant spectacle flickers by.

The unskilled sex, unused to swords,

Take position in warlike combat.

They seem like troops of Amazons

In heat, by Tanais or wild Phasis.

Here’s a line of audacious midgets,

Whom Nature suddenly left off making,

And tied forever in spherical knots.

They deal wounds and ply their fists

And threaten each other with death!

Mars and blood-stained Courage laugh

While cranes swoop at their errant prey

Wondering at their pigmy pugnacity.

Now as the shades of night gather,

A scattering of riches provokes tumult!

The girls enter, now readily bought,

Here’s whatever delights the stalls,

Pleasing forms, or established skill.

Here, the fat Lydian ladies applaud,

There are cymbals, jingling Spaniards,

And there, the troops of noisy Syrians.

Here’s the theatre-mob, and those who

Barter common sulphur for broken glass.

Meanwhile vast flocks of birds suddenly

Swoop like clouds from among the stars,

Flamingos, pheasants and guinea fowl,

That Nile, Phasis and Numidia capture.

Too many to seize; the folds of gowns

Are happily filled with new-won prizes.

Countless voices, that rise to the stars,

Proclaim the Emperor’s Saturnalia,

Acclaim him leader with fond applause.

Here’s the only licence Caesar banned:

Barely had darkness cloaked the world,

When a fiery ball from the arena’s midst

Shone as it rose through the dense gloom,

Exceeding the light of the Cretan crown.

The sky was bright with flame, permitting

No licence at all to night’s dark shadows.

At the sight of it, idle Silence and Sleep

Must take themselves off to other cities.

Who could sing the free jests, the shows,

The banquets, the home-grown foodstuffs,

Those lavishly flowing rivers of wine?

Now my strength ebbs, and your liquor

Drags me tipsily towards needful slumber.

To what distant ages shall this day travel?

Sacred, undiminished, through the years.

Whilst Latium’s hills, by Father Tiber,

And Rome, still stand, and its Capitol,

That you restore to Earth: it shall remain.

(Statius, Silvae 1.6)

I do love this poem by Statius, for it seems to envelop all the religious beliefs, traditions, chaos and revelry of Saturnalia. It paints of picture of life in ancient Rome like no other.

It may not have been enjoyed by all, but it was, perhaps, the most universally celebrated festival across all classes of Romans, something to be looked forward to and shared, something to be honoured.

And with that, I say to you, dear reader, Io Saturnalia!

I hope you enjoyed this post about what ancient Romans thought of Saturnalia.

This ancient festival is a wonderful subject to research and write about, for it brings the world of ancient Rome to colourful and vivid life!

If you would like to experience ancient Rome during Saturnalia, you will want to check out Saturnalia: A Tale of Wickedness and Redemption in Ancient Rome. 

Many of the sources mentioned above helped to inform the research for this book which is also a sort of homage to Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol and our own holiday traditions.

You can get Saturnalia from all major bookstores and on-line retailers in e-book or paperback, from your local public library through OverDrive, as well as directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing HERE.

For a taste of the book, see the video below in which I read an excerpt.

From all of us at Eagles and Dragons Publishing, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Solstice, and Io Saturnalia!

 

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Mythologia: The Reluctant Hero – Retelling the Story of Bellerophon and the Chimera

What does it take to make a real Hero? In this vast world filled with mortals, what makes one stand out in the eyes of the Gods?

These questions are not new. They’ve been explored in storytelling for millennia. They have inspired us and guided us, and forced us to take an honest look at ourselves.

The stories in mythology are not just about entertainment, they are about teaching, about bettering ourselves and preparing each of us for our own ‘Hero’s Journey’ through this life.

We’ve all been tested these last couple of years through the modern plague we are enduring and, I suspect, we’ve all had to take a good look at ourselves, our purpose, and the lives we lead. It’s not easy, to be sure, but such introspection is essential to our survival.

In a way, we are, each of us, the hero in our respective stories.

Which leads me to the story of a hero from Greek and Roman Mythology: Bellerophon.

Last week, Eagles and Dragons Publishing launched the fourth book in the Mythologia fantasy series, The Reluctant Hero: The Story of Bellerophon and the Chimera.

In this short post, we’re going to take a brief look why I wanted to re-tell this particular myth, as well as discuss the research that went into bringing it to life in this new, full-length novel in the series.

Bellerophon and the Chimera

SPOILER ALERT!

If you plan on reading, or have not yet finished The Reluctant Hero, you may wish to finish the book before reading this blog post…

The myth of Bellerophon and the Chimera is one that I have been wanting to explore for some time, not only because it provided an opportunity to tell the story of a good old ‘monster battle’, but also because it involved the winged horse, Pegasus.

When I was a child of about six, my first taste of Greek Mythology was seeing the original Clash of the Titans film, and every time I watched it, Pegasus was always the focus of my attention. I loved seeing Pegasus, and wished for such an ally and friend. It was Pegasus who brought me to Bellerophon, though at first I had only associated him with the hero Perseus.

Fresco of Bellerophon, Pegasus and Athena from Pompeii (Wikimedia Commons)

It is strange that most people will know the myth of Perseus, but have only a passing knowledge of Bellerophon, mainly as it relates to the Chimera, and not the man himself. In truth, Bellerophon is one of the central heroes of Greek Mythology, but we seem to have forgotten about him somewhat in the modern age. Perhaps this is due to the film that I, like so many, enjoyed as a child? Popular culture is a powerful thing in the modern age.

I thought it was time to give Bellerophon his due, and the Mythologia series was the perfect place to do it.

When it comes to the Greek myths, the primary sources are often sparse and scattered, our knowledge of them pieced together through fragments of text, artwork, and retellings by Roman writers in later centuries.

Many ancient writers mention Bellerophon and the Chimera, such as Hesiod (Theogony), Pindar (Olympian 13; Isthmian 7), Euripides, and Apollodorus. However, the earliest mention of Bellerophon comes from Homer in the sixth book of the Iliad in which, Glaucus, the grandson of Bellerophon, tells others of his lineage and the story of his grandfather and the Chimera. It is actually quite a long description of the tale, which is a blessing for later writers and ourselves. Interestingly, the description of Bellerophon’s tale by Homer is the first and only mention of actual writing in the Iliad. In reference to the letter that King Proetus has Bellerophon carry to King Iobates of Lykia, Homer writes:

To slay him he [King Proetus] forbare, for his soul had awe of that; but he sent him to Lycia, and gave him baneful tokens, graving in a folded tablet many signs and deadly, and bade him show these to his own wife’s father, that he [Bellerophon] might be slain.

(Homer, Iliad, Book 6, 170)

The sources are varied to be sure. Homer speaks of Bellerophon fighting and defeating the Solymi, the Amazons, and the Chimera, but makes no mention of Pegasus. However, Hesiod does mention that Pegasus and Bellerophon both defeated the Chimera who was the offspring of Typhon and Echidna, and the sibling of Cerberos (the three-headed hound of Hades), and the Lernaean Hydra which Herakles later defeated. It is a fascinating, and sometimes difficult, process to link together the various traditions of a particular myth to create a coherent story, but I believe it has worked in the case of Bellerophon and the Chimera.

The Chimera of Arezzo

Some readers may notice that, for the purposes of the story I wanted to tell, I have changed the order of Bellerophon’s tasks. In Homer, for instance, Bellerophon first slays the Chimera, then fights the Solymi, and finally, defeats the Amazons. Because I wanted the Chimera to be the climactic battle, I thought that it was acceptable to change this order. However, the battle with the Chimera did not end up being the primary focus of this book. Originally, as mentioned above, I had the idea of writing a ‘monster-battle’ novel, but as often happens, things changed as the story developed. At its heart, Greek Mythology is often about very human trials and emotions. To me, though the battle with the Chimera is the climax of the book, the main focus is Bellerophon’s journey from a shadowy no-one to a true hero as he overcomes his own demons and finally discovers himself.

Map showing location of Corinth, Argos and Tiryns

As usual, I have also tried to set the story in the real-world locations in which it was said to have taken place. I have opted to use the name of Bellerophon’s home of Corinthos (Corinth) because it is familiar to us today, but in the ancient texts, and at that time, it was known as Ephyra. I visited ancient Corinth on my first trip to Greece many years ago and remembered being overwhelmed by it, but also saddened at the destruction wrought by Rome on that great and ancient city. It was then that I visited the Acrocorinthos, the enormous mountain that overlooks the city.

Ancient Corinth and the Acrocorinthos (Photos: A Haviaras)

Today, all one sees on the Acrocorinthos are the remnants of the vast medieval castle, but it was not difficult to imagine the place during the Greek Heroic Age. To stand up there and look down on Corinth and the sweeping beauty of the lands south toward Mycenae and Argos over the mountains is, simply-put, breathtaking. I decided to make that the place where Bellerophon’s story begins, where he trains and commits the act that gets him banished from his home, specifically the killing of Belleros which gives Bellerophon his name, ‘Belleros Killer’.

There are other sites in the first part of the tale that you might be familiar with, such as Argos, and the great fortress of Tiryns where Bellerophon stays with King Proetus and Queen Stheneboea (also known as Anteia). Having visited those sites, it was a joy to go back to them and write about the landscape and palace of Tiryns especially. To read more about Tiryns, that ancient fortress of myth and legend, you can read a blog post about my visit HERE.

Artist Reconstruction of the Citadel of Tiryns

Another ancient site that is truly fascinating is the guardhouse where Bellerophon first meets King Proetus’ men. I located this guardhouse at the mysterious Pyramid of Hellinikon, just outside of Argos. This site is believed to be either a tomb, or a guardhouse built during the wars between Proetus and his brother, Acrisios. You can read about the pyramid and watch a short video tour of the site HERE.

The Pyramid of Hellinikon near Argos

Once Bellerophon journeyed across the sea, I was in uncharted territory for myself, never having travelled to modern-day Turkey where the ancient Kingdom of Lykia is located. The research for this was fascinating.

Map showing where parts of The Reluctant Hero take place

Not far from the Greek islands of Rhodes and Kastellorizo is the mouth of the river Xanthos which leads north a short distance to the ancient city of Xanthos (outside modern Kinik). This ancient Greek and Roman city had many structures such as a theatre, agora, monuments and shrines, as well as unique ‘pedestal tombs’, but there is very little in the way of remains for the period in which this story takes place. There was an acropolis overlooking the river below, and that is where I chose to set King Iobates’ palace in the story.

Likewise, I elaborated on the fictional village of the Solymi where Bellerophon fights the leader of their tribe, though their lands were located in the ancient region known as Pisidia.

When it comes to the Amazons, I chose to set their capital in Phrygia since it was said that there were Amazon tribes in that remote region north of Lykia. In searching for a geographic setting, I chose the ancient city of Hierapolis which is located at modern Pamukkale, known for its mineral-rich thermal waters flowing down white travertine terraces on a nearby hillside. This was a sort of ancient spa town, but for the purposes of this story, I decided to make it the Amazon base.

The hot springs at Pamukkale,Turkey, in ancient Phrygia.

In Turkey today, there is a place known as Mount Chimera, and this is located near the sea to the southwest of Xanthos. Though I chose to make this a remote mountain region to the northeast in the story, I did try to remain true to the setting, mainly the Chimera’s cave and the strange fires that are constantly burning from out of the rocky earth in that place. These are in fact methane gas emissions that are on fire, and have been for centuries, but for as long as people can remember, they have been called ‘fires of the Chimera’. It is here that the climactic battle in the story takes place.

The Cave and Fires of the Chimera (Lykia) (Wikimedia Commons)

Lastly, there is a bit of a nod to my own heritage at the end of the book when Bellerophon and Polyidus meet on the island of Chios, where the paternal side of my family comes from. The reason I chose to do this is because on the island, just north of Chios town, near the sea, is a site known as ‘Homer’s Rock’ or ‘Daskalopetra’. In Greek, daskalos means ‘teacher’, and it was said that Homer himself used to sit upon this rock and tell his tales of the Trojan War and of Odysseus’ travels. This was my acknowledgment of that tradition.

Daskalopetra – Homer’s Rock (Chios, Greece)

One of the most difficult tasks of writing this story was figuring out the family tree and timelines for the characters inhabiting the story. I soon realized that with so many references over time to various characters, it is not as clean-cut as one might think. One question I wrestled with was whether Perseus lived before or after Bellerophon, for the latter dealt with King Proetus whose brother was King Acrisios, the father of Danae, Perseus’ mother. Another question was, which Amazon queen was alive when Bellerophon faced the Amazons. At first I thought it would be Myrina, who was supposedly a friend of Horus (yes, the Egyptian Horus), but then I read that Queen Otrera was the mother of both Hippolyta and Penthesilea. However, Otrera is also said to be the very first Amazon queen. It is all a bit confusing for the modern reader and researcher, but when I decided not to cling to an absolute timeline, the story began to take shape beautifully.

Amazon Warrior (depiction c. 500 B.C)

In mythology, Bellerophon’s parents are Eurymede (sometimes known as Eurynome) of Megara and Glaucus, the son of Sisyphus who founded Corinth and who was one of the great sinners the Gods imprisoned in Tartarus for all time. Mythology does indeed tell us that Glaucus was eaten by his own horses after losing the chariot race at the funeral games of Pelias, and this trauma haunts Bellerophon in this version of the story.

As I have mentioned, King Proetus of Tiryns was the brother of King Acrisios of Argos, and he was married to Stheneboea of Lykia, the eldest daughter of King Iobates, who did send troops to help Proetus in the war against his brother.

King Iobates is one of the main characters in the myth, and in this story, but as is often the case in ancient texts, the women who were a part of the tale get little mention. I wanted to change that with The Reluctant Hero.

This allowed me to delve further into Philonoe’s character (the daughter of King Iobates) as I wanted to bring her to the fore. To me, she languished in the background in the primary sources. The story is, I feel, much more interesting for it, and for the fact that she is not a damsel in distress, ‘saved’ by the hero who shows up. In this story, Philonoe is a hero in her own right.

4th Century Mosaic Fragment showing Philonoe and Bellerophon (photo: Barbara McManus)

In myth, Bellerophon and Philonoe had three children: Hippolochos, Isander, and Laodameia.

As mentioned above, in Homer, it is the son of Hippolochos, Glaucus, who tells the tale of Bellerophon in the Iliad. He led the Lykian army during the Trojan War. As for Isander and Laodameia, they were less fortunate in their lives, for Isander was supposedly killed while fighting the Solymi, slain by Ares, and Laodameia was the mother of Sarpedon by Zeus, later to be killed by Artemis for angering that goddess.

One thing is certain, the mythological family trees are never boring!

But what of Philonoe and Bellerophon?

The ancient texts make no mention of Philonoe’s end that I have seen, so I decided that she should meet an end worthy of her lineage, giving her children the chance to take over the kingdom.

As for Bellerophon, the ancient texts make no mention of his death either, but Homer does say the following:

But when even Bellerophon came to be hated of all the gods, then verily he wandered alone over the Aleian plain, devouring his own soul, and shunning the paths of men…

(Homer, Iliad, Book 6, 200)

It is true that most Greek myths, especially those of the heroes, often end in tragedy, but why was Bellerophon shunned by the Gods? In his lost tragic play, Bellerophon, Euripides spoke of Bellerophon’s attempt to fly up to Mount Olympus upon Pegasus, and Zeus’ subsequent anger at this. The king of the gods sent a fly to sting Pegasus, and Bellerophon, the slayer of the Chimera, tumbled back to earth. He survived the fall, but was crippled by it and wandered alone until the end of his days.

It was a sad end for a great and misunderstood hero, and I hope that I have done his story justice.

If you want to explore the myth of Bellerophon more deeply, you can check out Book IV in the Mythologia series, The Reluctant Hero: The Story of Bellerophon and the Chimera.

If you haven’t checked out any of the titles in the Mythologia series, you can get the first three in the Mythologia: First Omnibus Edition HERE or directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing.

Thank you for reading.

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Mythologia: A Song for the Underworld – Researching the Story of Orpheus and Eurydice

Greetings Readers and History-lovers!

Greek Mythology is vast, and the variety of the tales therein is something to be studied and enjoyed over a lifetime. No matter what a person’s age, there is always some enjoyment to be had, something to be learned.

The stories of Greek Mythology often deal with such things as consequence and revenge, the toils of the human race under the watchful eyes of the Gods, and of trying to find one’s place and purpose in the world we inhabit.

The myths also contain great stories of Love.

Orpheus Mourning the Death of Eurydice (by Ary Scheffer, 1814)

The myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is, perhaps, one of the most romantic and tragic in the constellations of mythology that have come down to us. It is the ultimate, tragic love story, and as such it has inspired countless works of art, music, plays, operas, and literature throughout the ages.

With the Mythologia series, it is sometimes difficult to decide which myths to adapt. There are so many!

I was reminded of the story of Orpheus and Eurydice when I first listened to the song, Orpheus, by Sara Bareilles. The absolutely beautiful melody and Ms. Bareilles’ voice wove a spell, and upon hearing the phrase “Don’t you turn like Orpheus, Just stay here…”, I knew that I had to write this story.

Orpheus and Eurydice (by Carl Goos, 1830)

In a way, my own version of this story began with a song.

Once I began to research this myth more fully, I became more and more engrossed in the story, curious about its impact over the ages.

There are a few primary sources from the ancient world that relate the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. For this retelling, I’ve used parts from each, having decided not to limit myself to one particular version. For this story, I’ve used elements from Euripides’ play, Alcestis, which is one of the earliest recorded tellings of the myth, and from the more fulsome versions by the Roman writers Virgil (Georgics) and Ovid (Metamorphoses). There are references to Orpheus in many other ancient sources such as Pindar (the Pythian odes), Plato (Symposium), Apollonius of Rhodes (Argonautica), Diodorus Siculus, and Pausanias.

Apollo and the Muses on Mount Helicon (by Claude Lorrain, 1680)

Though the Mythologia series is fantasy, and requires a suspension of disbelief, I have still tried to include places or settings that are tied historically to Orpheus and Eurydice. The sacred spring of Hippocrene on Mount Helicon, where the Muses were said to gather, was supposedly made by Pegasus when he stomped his hoof into the rock there. The ancient author, Pausanias, tells us that there was a statue of Orpheus in that place. The ancient region of Pieria, around the base of Mount Olympus, which I have also included in the book, was said to be where the Muses lived, and perhaps where Orpheus was raised. Both Mount Helicon and Pieria were major cult centres of the Muses in ancient times.

When it comes to the entrance to the Underworld, the cape of Tainaron in the southern Peloponnese was believed by our ancient ancestors to be one of the gateways to Hades’ realm, a truly forbidding, rocky place with a sanctuary of Poseidon and, supposedly, an altar of Death.

The ‘Gate to Hades’ at Tainaron, southern Greece

In the story, Orpheus and Eurydice range all over the land of what we know as Greece, but Thrace in particular played a big part in the myth for it was there that Orpheus was supposed to have met Eurydice, but also where he met his end. There was a strong Orphic tradition for millennia in Thrace. In mythology and the history of ancient Greece, the landscape is as much a part of the story, and by exploring it we can truly get closer to the myths.

Traditionally, the Muse, Calliope, is Orpheus’ mother, but there are a couple of traditions around who his father was. Often it is King Oeagrus of Thrace, but then sometimes Orpheus’ father is Apollo himself. I decided to include hints at both in this story, but opted for the latter tradition since it seemed more fitting that Calliope and Apollo would be parents to the greatest musician. However, in mythology, King Oeagrus was indeed the father of the satyr, Marsyas, who did challenge Apollo. For his hubris, Apollo flayed the skin from Marsyas’ body, and there is a famous statue of the satyr in this sad state. For my version of this story, I liked the juxtaposition of having King Oeagrus as Marsyas’ father, and Apollo as Orpheus’.

Calliope, Muse of Epic Song, and mother of Orpheus

When it comes to the death of Orpheus, he was torn to pieces by the Thracian Maenads, but for varying reasons. Sometimes, it is because they each wanted him for themselves and fought over him. Other times, it is because of his loyalty to the memory of Eurydice, and his refusal of anyone else. One tradition has Dionysus turn against him because Orpheus preferred to honour Helios over him. I chose a slightly different route by making the cessation of his music the reason that the Maenads turned on him. Either way, what is agreed upon is that after they slew poor Orpheus, the pieces of his body were thrown into the river Hebros and floated down to the sea, his head still singing in death. The head landed on the shores of Lesbos where the people there treated Orpheus’ remains with honour. As a result, the Muses granted the Lesbians the special gift of music and art. This is fitting, considering that Sappho, one of the greatest poets of the ancient world, was from Lesbos.

Thracian Girl Carrying the Head of Orpheus on His Lyre by Gustave Moreau (1865)

Of course, one of the central features of the myth is Orpheus’ journey to the Underworld to get back his love, Eurydice. One of my favourite challenges as an author is to write about the Underworld. How does one portray such a realm as that? One cannot fit in every detail, and accounts in ancient texts vary. No one can truly know the mysteries of the Afterlife, so conjecture is acceptable. Another attempt of mine to portray the Underworld can be found in my book, Saturnalia. I hope this particular interpretation is a just offering.

The story of Orpheus was so profound and imbued with such meaning that from it sprang one of the great mystery religions of the ancient world: Orphism.

I won’t go into the details of Orphism here. We cannot know much because it was a mystery religion, similar to the Eleusinian Mysteries.

Orpheus leading Eurydice out of the Underworld (by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, 1861)

What we do know is that the Orphic Hymns were central to its practices and beliefs, as was Orpheus’ journey to the Underworld and back. It is thought by some to be a reform of ancient Dionysian religion, with a focus on the suffering and death of Dionysus who also went to the Underworld. Humanity’s dual nature was central to the philosophy of Orphism. It also had ideas in common with Pythagoreanism, notably an ascetic life free of contamination, including rules such as a strict vegetarian diet. It is believed that Pythagoras himself was an Orphic initiate.

Orphics, as the followers of this ancient religion are known, believed in an afterlife in which they would spend eternity alongside Orpheus and other heroes. Those who were not initiated into the mysteries were reincarnated.

As always, as an author and historian, I find this oneness of myth and religion infinitely fascinating, and will explore more of this relationship in subsequent stories in the Mythologia series.

For me, however, at its heart this is a story about love, pure and simple. It is the ultimate expression of that which makes life worth living, worth risking all for.

It’s almost impossible to fully convey such love with mere words. I don’t have the skills that Orpheus himself had. But I do hope that in reading this story, some part of your heart and soul will be moved.

If you want to explore this myth more deeply, you can check out Book III in the Mythologia series, A Song for the Underworld: The Story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

Lastly, if you haven’t checked out any of the titles in the Mythologia series, you can get the first three in the Mythologia: First Omnibus Edition HERE or directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing.

Thank you for reading.

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Mythologia: From Zero to Hero – The Story of an Epic Race

Then he [Pelops] said unto him: ‘Lo now, O Poseidon, if the kind gifts of the Cyprian goddess are anywise pleasant in thine eyes, restrain Oinomaus’ bronze spear, and send me unto Elis upon a chariot exceeding swift, and give the victory to my hands. Thirteen lovers already hath Oinomaus slain, and still delayeth to give his daughter in marriage. Now a great peril does not take hold of a coward: and forasmuch as men must die, wherefore should one sit vainly in the dark through a dull and nameless age, and without lot in noble deeds? Not so, but I will dare this strife… 

(Pindar, Olympian Ode 1)

Greetings lovers of ancient history and mythology!

This week on the blog, we’re going to be taking a brief look at one of the most important heroes of Greek myth, but one who is often overlooked in popular culture today.

We are going to be looking at the myth of Pelops and Hippodameia and the events that led to the naming of the Peloponnesian peninsula after this hero.

Pelops and Hippodameia racing

Though the myth of Pelops may not be well-known to the average person today, it was an important part of the mythological and religious canon in the world of ancient Greece and Rome. Several ancient writers wrote about it, including Homer, Pindar, Apollonius of Rhodes, Apollodoros, Diodorus Siculus, Pausanias and Pliny the Elder. Even Sophocles and Euripides wrote plays on the subject.

One of the foundation myths of the Olympic Games relates to Pelops and involves his famous chariot race against Oinomaus, the king of Elis.

On my first visit to ancient Olympia many years ago, I discovered Pelops’ story for the first time, having been amazed that it was so important that one of the statue groups on the pediment of the great temple of Zeus was dedicated to the myth.

Subsequently, I discovered that one of the hero shrines at ancient Olympia was dedicated to this eponymous hero.

East pediment of the temple of Zeus at Olympia showing Zeus between Oinomaus and Pelops, just before their race

But who was Pelops, and what did he do to deserve such adulation and remembrance?

These are the questions that I wanted to explore in Wheels of Fate, Book II in the Mythologia fantasy series.

SPOILER ALERT!

If you are planning on reading Wheels of Fate, you may wish to do so before going any further as this post discussed some of the key plot points in the myth that are explored in the book.

Here is a short synopsis of the myth…

The ancient kingdom of Elis, was ruled by Oinomaus who was the son of Ares and, apparently, quite brutal. He had a daughter by the name of Hippodameia, and every suitor who came for his daughter’s hand in marriage had to try and beat him in a chariot race across what became known as the Peloponnese, or, the ‘Isle of Pelops’.

Eighteen suitors had raced Oinomaus and been killed by him before Pelops laid down his challenge.

According to the legend, Pelops, a young prince from Lydia, was the son of Tantalus, the arrogant king who was punished by the Gods for his grievous sin and sent to Tartarus. After being greatly abused by his father (that’s an understatement!) Pelops was was taken in by Poseidon himself who taught him about horses. Eventually, Poseidon gave him a team of swift-footed horses so that he could race against Oinomaus.

In order to ensure that Oinomaus did not win, Hippodameia also convinced her father’s man, Myrtilus, to sabotage the chariot so that Oinomaus would crash.

After Pelops’ victory, it was said that he began the Olympic Games in thanks to Zeus for his win. Another theory is that the Olympics were begun by Pelops as funeral games for the deceased Oinomaus who died in the race, or for Myrtilus, whom Pelops killed.

Whatever the ‘truth’ about these Olympic beginnings, one thing is certain – Chariot racing and horses had a deep connection to the Olympic Games.

This is a great simplification of the story. The book, Wheels of Fate, goes into much greater detail in exploring the myth. However, this particular foundation myth points to the Games as an event to commemorate Pelops’ victory.

Pelops and Hippodameia

As far as we know, the very first event of the Olympic Games was the stade race sprint, and boxing became a part of the Olympic roster in the fourteenth Olympiad.

So when did chariot racing become a part of the Games?

It is generally agreed that chariot racing first made an appearance in the ancient Olympics during the twenty-fifth Olympiad in the year 680 B.C.

In tandem with the Olympic Games, said to be established by Pelops in this instance, Hippodameia was said to have established the Games of Hera, the Heraia, in thanks to the goddess for granting the victory as well. You can read more about the Heraia HERE.

The chariot race was the marquee event at the Olympic Games, and central to the story of Wheels of Fate, as well as our historical fantasy epic Heart of Fire: A Novel of the Ancient Olympics.

Olympia map showing hippodrome at bottom right.

There was much testament to this particular foundation myth around the Altis of Olympia as well, the sacred precinct at the heart of the sanctuary. As mentioned, one of the pediments from the temple of Zeus shows Oinomaus and Pelops with their chariots, on either side of Zeus, getting ready to race.

Also, in the hippodrome, the chariot racing track of Olympia, a statue of Hippodameia overlooked the track, and one of the turns called the Taraxippos, was said to be haunted by the angry ghost of Oinomaus who would spook horses as they passed. Also, one of the posts in the turns was said to be made from a beam from Oinomaus’ burnt house.

In the middle of the Altis, there was also the Pelopion, the burial mound of Pelops which became a shrine to the hero who would become the father of Atreus, and grandfather of Agamemnon and Menelaus, those well-known kings of Mycenae and Sparta who sailed to war at Troy.

Pelopion (digital model created by University of Melbourne)

There is no denying the importance of Pelops among the ranks of ancient Greek heroes, and so it was a joy to explore his life in Wheels of Fate, to explore the dark corners of his life beyond what the sources tell us.

He was a grandson of immortals, the son of a king, and the father and grandfather of some of the most powerful kings of the Greek heroic age.

And his name lives on in the land itself, the ‘Peloponnese’ or, the ‘Isle of Pelops’.

If you want to explore this myth more deeply, you can check out our epic retelling of this myth in Book II of the Mythologia series, Wheels of Fate: The Story of Pelops and Hippodameia.

If you are interested in learning more about the ancient Olympic Games, you can check out The World of Heart of Fire blog series in which we look at all of the foundation myths of the ancient Olympics (yes, there are more than one!), the original athletic events, the archeology of ancient Olympia and more. You can also join me on a video tour of the archaeological site! You can read that series of blog posts for free by CLICKING HERE.

Lastly, if you haven’t checked out any of the titles in the Mythologia series, you can get the first three in the Mythologia: First Omnibus Edition HERE or directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing.

Thank you for reading.

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Mythologia: Exploring the World of Gods, Goddesses and Heroes

Greetings Readers and History-Lovers!

After a long Summer break, we’re finally back on the blog to bring you more entertaining information, topics of conversation and, of course, more books!

I hope that this post finds you all happy and safe, despite the ongoing crises plaguing our world.

During the past several months, I’ve been busy delving into worlds of gods, goddesses and heroes. What better way to get a respite from the modern world and its troubles than to explore Greek and Roman mythology?

And what an escape it has been! 

I’ve always enjoyed mythology, and as I’ve grown older and begun to write my own stories, I’ve realized that it would be wonderful to retell many of these fabulous myths in a way that would allow us to get to know these gods, goddesses, and heroes on a more personal level. 

The goal with the Mythologia series from Eagles and Dragons Publishing is to re-create a mythical world in which the reader can suspend all disbelief and experience these epic tales in a new and exciting way, right alongside the immortals and demigods whom we have read and heard about for ages. 

This series is also a lot of fun for me to write, because anything goes. I don’t need to be constrained by historical timelines or detail as much as with other series, though I always make an effort to set the stories in their known, geographical locations. You can’t keep a good historian down! I get ideas from the seeds and scattered mentions by ancient authors in various texts, and then let my imagination run wild.

The Council of the Gods by Raphael, c.1517, Villa Farnesina, Rome

Why mythology, and why now?

That’s a tricky question. I suppose that in the last year, during this modern plague, I’ve found comfort in mythology, a resonance in the stories that has helped me to get through in some way.

This series was always intended to be an escape, an exercise in the suspension of disbelief. This past year seemed like the perfect time for that.

However, it is also worth mentioning that even though myth is comprised mostly of stories of gods, goddesses, and heroes, those stories deal with very human feelings and trials which we all face in one form or another. They are stories of love and loss, of hope and of deep fear. They are stories of jealousy, of curiosity, of wanting to belong and of wanting to be better than ourselves.

The Gods know we’ve all faced our share of challenges in the last year and a half or so. That is part of the reason for which I have gone back to the Mythologia series. It has comforted and inspired me.

I also just love mythology as a religious and storytelling tradition that has spanned ancient Greek and Roman culture. It’s the very foundation of epic storytelling in the West.

The Mythologia series can be read in any order, but the first book, Chariot of the Son, deals with the Phaethon myth.

The Fall of Phaethon (Sebastiano Ricci 1659-1734)

He [Zeus] recalled the Fate [Moira] foretold a time when sea and land and heaven’s high palaces in sweeping flames should burn, and down should fall the beleaguered bastions of the universe.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses 1. 252)

Why the Phaethon myth?

I forget what I was researching at the time, but I came across a description of one version of the tale and remember being really saddened by it. I felt strongly that this was a story that I could tell, a story that would be extremely moving for readers of all ages. 

There are a few versions of the Phaethon myth, including Hesiod’s Theogeny of the 8th or 7th century B.C., and versions by Apollodorus and Pausanias in the second century A.D. In these, Phaethon is often the son of Eos and Kephalos.

The version that touched me the most is by the Roman poet Ovid (43 BC – AD 17/18) from Book II of his work, Metamorphoses. This work is a continuous narrative of myths in fifteen books which has shaped much of our view of mythology to this day.

You can download a free version of Ovid’s Metamorphoses on the Project Gutenberg website HERE.

With Chariot of the Son, I wanted get to know the people who, unbeknownst to Phaethon, make up the family – Clymene and Helios, his parents, an Oceanid and a Titan; his sisters, the Heliades; the Titan Prometheus, and others.

Also, knowing that the story has a tragic end, I wanted to get inside this young god’s heart and mind to try and experience the reasons why he wanted so much to drive the Sun’s chariot across the heavens. 

As I thought about his burning chariot and the scorching of the world that created the Sahara desert, it occurred to me that this story has some very human themes such as wanting to belong, the need for love and approval, and the urge to prove oneself.

It is also a myth that is not often explored, and so I set out to tell it as I saw it. I hope I have done this tragic tale justice.

We are, after all, reminded of Helios and Phaethon when we look up at the sun in the daytime sky, or see a picture of the burning expanse of the Sahara desert.

The Sahara Desert – Created by the burning of the world when Phaethon drove his father’s chariot

Perhaps what I love most about the myths is that they enable us to feel and see our world and history with wonder, and that is a precious thing.

I love this book and writing it was, quite literally, a dream-like experience.

Stepping into such an ancient world where these mythic characters experience things on a very human scale has been a wonderful experience that I hope you will enjoy.

Though the books in the Mythologia series are labelled in a specific order, they can all be read individually as stand-alone stories.

Chariot of the Son is, of course, the first book in the Mythologia series, and it is available for 0.99.

Just go to the book’s page on the website HERE. You can also go to the Buy Direct page on the Eagles and Dragons Publishing website to get your copy.

Stay tuned for the next post on Greek mythology in which we will take a brief look at the myth of Pelops and Hippodameia.

Thank you for reading.

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