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The World of An Altar of Indignities – Part I – Drama and Theatres in Ancient Athens

Greetings Readers, Hellenophiles, and Romanophiles!

Eagles and Dragons Publishing is proud to present an all new ‘World of’ blog series that will take a look at the research, people, and places related to the newest book in The Etrurian Players series, An Altar of Indignities: A Dramatic and Romantic Comedy of Ancient Rome and Athens.

We know that many of you are fans of these blog series connected with each of our book releases and we hope that you enjoy this one as much as those that have gone before.

In this newest series, we’ll be publishing a new article every two weeks or so on a wide range of relevant topics such as theatre, ancient Athens, festivals, religion, playwrights, customs and more.

And now, without further ado, let’s step into The World of An Altar of Indignities!

The Theatre of Epidaurus

In this first post, we’re going to be taking a brief look at drama and theatres in ancient Athens.

But this book is set during the Roman era, isn’t it? you might ask.

That is true, but the Romans were the inheritors and adopters of Greek theatrical traditions and, as the book is set in Roman Athens, we thought it would be good to start with a look at the birth of drama in ancient Greece.

Tragedy is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude…through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions.

(Aristotle, Poetics) 

In the West, we owe a great deal to the ancient Greeks, particularly the Athenians. Out of ancient Greece came epic poetry, and lyric poetry sung to music. There was elegiac poetry that expressed personal sentiments of love, lamentation, and military exhortations. Epigrams memorialized the dead in inscriptions across the Greek world. Iambic poetry relayed often satyrical ideas as close to natural speech as possible, and bucolic poetry in hexameter told stories of the lives of ordinary country people rather than of heroes.

There is much more to it, but you get the idea. Basically, all of our western literary traditions came out of Ancient Greece.

Not least among these genres was drama.

Relief of Maenads in ritualistic, frenzied dance honouring Dionysus.

The first thing we should look at is how the artform of ‘Drama’ came about as a form of entertainment.

Similar to gladiatorial combat in Ancient Rome, which began as a religious ritual for the dead, drama in Ancient Greece was born out of religious practices, in particular, rituals honouring the god, Dionysus.

Early worship to Dionysus involved a darker side with ecstatic worship by female followers – the maenads of mythology – who were said to partake in frenzied dances and tear into animal, and sometimes human, flesh. In the sixth century B.C.E the worship of Dionysus involved obscene play, extreme emotion, singing, and dancing.

This was the genesis of Greek drama.

It was the tyrant Peisistratos (c. 600-527 B.C.E) who founded the city Dionysia of Athens, the great festival in honour of Dionysus, which involved a chorus of men singing and dancing for the god. Later, there were also rural Dionysia about Attica, with similar rituals. These early choruses could be as large as fifty people, but most were believed to consist of twelve to fifteen members.

In the sixth century (c. 535 B.C.E), when a man named Thespis added himself to the ritual to deliver a prologue and interact with the Dionysian chorus, he is said to have become the very first actor, or ‘thespian’.

The addition of this one person to interact with the chorus is thought to be the beginning of true drama, the transition from religious ritual to dramatic performance for an audience.

Later, the playwright Aeschylus added a second actor and, after him, Sophocles added a third, and this became the standard number of actors for a while, in addition to the members of the chorus.

Roman bronze from Herculaneum thought to represent Thespis, the first actor.

In early drama, Greek comedies and tragedies were, more or less, musical productions. This was due to drama’s origins in dance and song for Dionysus. The members of the chorus played groups of people like the citizens of a city, dancing and singing.

These new dramas or plays, until the Hellenistic age, were performed in competitions as part of religious festivals like the Dionysia, the Lenaea (a winter festival to Dionysus), and the Panathenaea (to Athena Parthenos) at Athens. These theatre festivals were organized by the state.

For festivals, usually three poets were selected to have their work performed, and they were assigned an actor, or actors. The playwrights who participated wrote either tragedy or comedy, but not both. They usually submitted three tragedies on different themes and a satyr play, a short comedic piece (ex. Euripides’ Cyclops).

The winner of these competitions received a wreath. From about 499 B.C.E, the best actor also received a prize. All actors, even those playing female roles, were men. Oftentimes, the poets also acted in their own plays.

At Athens, when the Dionysia was in its infancy, the admission to watch the dramas was, apparently, about two obols. However, when Pericles was leading the way through Athens’ Golden Age, the state began to pay for admission to the theatre. In addition to male citizens, this sometimes also included non-citizens, or metics, as well as women and children who were, of course, accompanied by well-respected male citizens.

But before we get into the role that theatre played in Greek society, let’s first take a look at the types of drama that were performed, mainly Tragedy and Comedy.

It should be said at this point that, unfortunately, very little ancient drama has survived the centuries, and when it comes to tragedy, only Attic tragedies have survived.

Tragic dramas or plays from Ancient Greece seem to have originated in the mid-sixth century B.C.E in Attica or the Peloponnese, and the earliest surviving one we have is Aeschylus’ Persians (c. 472. B.C.E).

Ah! Miserable Fate! Black Fortune!

Black, unbearable, unexpected disaster!

A savage single-minded Fate has ravished the Persian race!

What troubles are still in store for me?

All strength has abandoned my body… my limbs… there is none left to face these elders.

Ah, Zeus! Why has this evil Fate not buried me, as well, send me to the underworld, among all my men?

(Aeschylus, Persians)

Tragedies were the first dramas and they were almost all based on mythological tales of gods, goddesses and heroes. They also had a standard format that comprised a prologos, sometimes presented by the chorus, and sometimes by an actor. Then there was a monologue or introduction. There was a parados, which was a song sung by the chorus as it entered. After that, there were various epeisodia, scenes with actors and the chorus, and during these epeisodia, stasima (songs) were performed. The play usually closed out with the exodos, the final scene or ‘exit’.

So, the first dramatic performances were tragedies and the genre gave rise to some of the most famous playwrights of the ancient world, including Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. However, tragedy began to decline by the end of the fourth century B.C.E in favour of comedy.

Melpomene – The Muse of Tragedy

The word comedy is derived from the Greek komoidia which comes from komos, a procession of singing and dancing revellers.

It is believed that comedy dates to the sixth century B.C.E and that it may have its roots in Sicilian or Megarian drama.

As with the tragedies, only Attic comedies survive to this day, and the earliest surviving one we have is Aristophanes’ Acharnians (c. 425 B.C.E). There were earlier comic poets such as Cratinus, Crates, Pherecrates, Eupolis and Plato (different to the famous philosopher), but none of their works survive.

Oh! by Bacchus! what a bouquet! It has the aroma of nectar and
ambrosia; this does not say to us, “Provision yourselves for three
days.” But it lisps the gentle numbers, “Go whither you will.”
I accept it, ratify it, drink it at one draught and consign the
Acharnians to limbo. Freed from the war and its ills, I shall
keep the Dionysia in the country.

(Aristophanes, Acharnians)

Ancient Greek comedy can be separated into three different types: Old Comedy, Middle Comedy, and New Comedy.

Comedies were humorous and uninhibited with many jokes about sex and excretions. They ridiculed and parodied contemporary characters, and an excellent example of this is Aristophanes’ ridiculing of Socrates in Clouds:

A bold rascal, a fine speaker, impudent, shameless, a braggart, and adept at stringing lies, and an old stager at quibbles, a complete table of laws, a thorough rattle, a fox to slip through any hole, supple as a leather strap, slippery as an eel, an artful fellow, a blusterer, a villain, a knave with one hundred faces, cunning, intolerable, a gluttonous dog.

(Aristophanes, Clouds)

Comedies also made fun of contemporary issues as well as gods, myths, and even religious ceremonies, making it a sort of acceptable outlet for mocking things that were otherwise sacred. This was a form of ‘free speech’ at work in the new Democracy of Athens.

All performances were staged during the city Dionysia and the Lenaea in Athens.

Old Comedy consisted of choral songs alternating with dialogue but it had less of a pattern than tragedy did. The chorus consisted of about twenty-four men and extras, and they often played animals. The actors wore grotesque costumes and masks.

Old comedies began with a prologos, and then the entrance of the chorus which proceeded to sing a parados, a song. Then there was the main event, the agon, a struggle, which was a debate or physical fight between two of the actors. There were songs during the action and subsequent scenes or epeisodia. The chorus also uttered a parabasis, which was a blessing on the audience. As with tragedy, comedies also ended with the final scene, or exodos.

Second century C.E. mosaic depicting dramatic masks for Tragedy and Comedy

Middle Comedy in Ancient Greece was basically Athenian comedy from about 400-323 B.C.E. It developed after the Peloponnesian War and was more experimental with different styles beginning to emerge. Apparently it became quite popular and experienced a revival in Sicily and Magna Graecia.

Comic choruses began to play less of a role, and the parabasis was no longer used. Interestingly, the more grotesque costumes and phalluses were not as popular either.

Comedic plots based on mythology and political satire began to give way to less harsh humour and a focus on ordinary lives and issues. 

Sadly, no complete plays from Middle Comedy survive, but some of the authors we know of were Antiphanes, Tubules, Anaxandrides, Timocles, and Alexis. Some might also class Aristophanes as one of the earliest poets of Greek Middle Comedy.

Thalia – The Muse of Comedy

Lastly, New Comedy is generally considered to be Athenian comedy from the death of Alexander the Great in 323 B.C.E to about 263 B.C.E.

In New Comedy performances, plays were five acts long and were interspersed with unrelated choral or musical interludes. They were generally set in Athens or Attica, and the actors wore masks, but now dressed in regular everyday clothes.

Though new comedies were Athenian, writers came from around the broader Greek world to Athens to write, and to see the plays.

The themes of these new plays were more human and relatable and dealt with things such as family relationships, love, mistaken identities (a throw-over from Middle Comedy), the intrigues of slaves, and long-lost children.

There were also stock characters that emerged such as pimps and courtesans, soldiers, young men in love, genial old men, and angry old men.

The themes and characters of Greek New Comedy greatly influenced Roman drama and which became so popular for the Roman theatre crowd.

Menander (c. 343–291 B.C.E)

Sadly, little survives in the form of Greek New Comedy, but much Roman comedy such as plays by Plautus and Terence, were based on those Greek plays, particularly Menander (c. 341-290 B.C.E). Other authors included Diphilus and Philemon.

It is a true tragedy that so much comedy does not survive. Menander alone is thought to have written over one hundred plays, and yet only a small fragment of a single one of his plays survives.

Thankfully, Roman playwrights such as Plautus and Terence used Menander’s plays as blueprints for their own and, as a result of that New Comedy format and formula, they gave rise to the western comedic tradition we are familiar with to this day through Shakespeare, Moliere, and others.

Now that we have briefly touched on the history of drama and plays, let’s take a look at where these plays were actually performed.

The Theatre of Dionysus, Athens

The word ‘theatre’ comes from the Greek word theatron which literally means ‘a place for watching’.

Theatres were built from the sixth century B.C.E onward. Most religious sites had a theatre and, as previously mentioned, they were used to celebrate festivals in honour of Dionysus.

Greek drama grew out of these religious festivals.

Early theatres could be temporary wooden structures, or a sort of scaffolding, but this practice was ceased after a deadly collapse in the Agora of Athens in about 497 B.C.E. After that, performances in Athens moved to the hillside where the theatre of Dionysus was built on the south slope of the Acropolis.

It became common practice to build theatres into the slopes or hillsides of natural hollows or, alternatively, into man-made embankments which supported tiers of seats on the hillside. Beginning in the fourth century B.C.E, theatre seating was built in marble. Theatres were generally D-shaped or on half-circle plans.

Ground Plan of the Ionian Greek theatre at Iassos.

All theatres where drama was performed were ‘open-air’ and had several common components: the koilon (the seating area) where the seats in the front row were reserved for priests and officials, the orkestra (the circular performance space), and the skene (a building for storage and changing rooms for actors). Later, the skene became a stage with a backdrop called the proskenion (in Latin, the scaena frons). The addition of this stage (pulpitum in Latin) expanded the performance area.

The other common performance space that was similar to theatres in Ancient Greece was the odeon (plur. odeia). These were usually roofed structures for listening to musical recitals and contests, poetry readings and other similar performances. Odeia were basically small theatres with a roof.

The first odeon of ancient Athens is thought to be that built by Pericles in the fifth century B.C.E. It was located directly beside the theatre of Dionysus and was a pyramidal structure made of wood with the roof supported by many columns. Some believe it was designed to resemble the tent of the defeated King of Persia.

Other odeia of ancient Athens included the Odeon of Agrippa in the Athenian Agora, and the stunning Odeon of Herodes Atticus on the southwestern slope of the Acropolis which is still used for performances to this day and which is featured in An Altar of Indignities.

Acropolis of Athens with the Odeon of Herodes Atticus before it on the left.

Today, theatre and dramatic performance is seen as more of a luxury in western society, something for the privileged few.

This was not the case in ancient Athens.

Though drama had religious beginnings, it evolved into an important way for Greeks as a society (albeit mostly for male citizens) to investigate the world in which they lived and what it meant to be human.

Aristotle believed that drama, tragedy in particular, had a way of cleansing the heart through pity and terror. It could purge men of their petty concerns and worries and, with this noble ‘suffering’, they underwent a sort of catharsis.

With the advent of philosophical thought, theatre and drama became the vehicle that encouraged average Greeks to become more ‘moral’ by helping them to process the issues of the day through both Tragedy and Comedy.

Rather than being a leisure activity for the elites, as it is perceived today, attending the theatre in ancient Athens was an important form of civic engagement after exercising one’s rights and performing one’s duties for the community (such as voting). Watching and experiencing tragedies and comedies with one’s fellow citizens became an important activity in the new Democracy of the day.

Not only did the drama and theatres of ancient Athens inspire their Roman successors, they also helped to shape the artistic traditions of western civilization.

For that, we should all be grateful.

Thank you for reading.

An array of Greek theatre masks

We hope that you’ve enjoyed this short post on drama and theatres in ancient Athens. There is a lot more to learn on this subject. We highly recommend the documentary series by Professor Michael Scott, Ancient Greece: The Greatest Show on Earth. You can watch the first episode HERE. 

You can also read our popular articles on Theatres in Ancient Rome and Drama and Actors in Ancient Rome.

There are a lot more posts coming in The World of An Altar or Indignities, so make sure that you are subscribed to the Eagles and Dragons Publishing Newsletter so that you don’t miss any of them. When you subscribe you get the first book in our #1 best-selling Eagles and Dragons series for FREE!

If you haven’t yet read any books in The Etrurian Players series, we highly recommend you begin with the multi award-winning first book Sincerity is a Goddess: A Dramatic and Romantic Comedy of Ancient Rome.

In celebration of drama in the ancient world, be sure to check out our ‘Ancient Theatre’ Collection in the Eagles and Dragons Publishing AGORA on Etsy which features a range of ancient theatre-themed clothing, glassware and more! CLICK HERE to browse.

Stay tuned for the next post in this blog series in which we’ll be looking at travel and transportation in the Roman Empire.

An Altar of Indignities: A Dramatic and Romantic Comedy of Ancient Rome and Athens is now available in ebook, paperback and deluxe hardcover editions from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortar chains, and your local public library.

CLICK HERE to buy a copy or get ISBN# information for the edition of your choice.

Brace yourselves! The Etrurian Players are back!

 

 

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New Release! – The Etrurian Players are Back!

Greetings Readers and History-Lovers!

Eagles and Dragons Publishing is thrilled to announce the release of Book II in The Etrurian Players series!

The title is An Altar of Indignities: A Dramatic and Romantic Comedy of Ancient Rome and Athens and it is an embarrassing and touching story of family and friendship, creativity, and the discomfort that humans experience as life inevitably changes.

The story takes place in the Roman Empire in the year 205 CE…

Brace yourselves! The Etrurian Players are back!

The Gods are well aware that mortals have a habit of taking themselves far too seriously. This is especially true of The Etrurian Players, the greatest theatrical troupe in the Roman Empire.

Basking in the glories of their resounding success in Rome, Felix Modestus and his players find themselves on the sacred island of Delos when Apollo decides it is time to check Felix’s growing hubris with a new and potentially deadly mission: he must show the people of Athens that Romans are just as capable of theatrical greatness as the Greeks!

Faced with this titanic task, Felix once again enlists the help of his oldest friends, Rufio and Clara, who travel from their farm in Etruria to Athens for the great Panathenaic festival when the precarious production is destined to take place.

As the company attempts to prepare for the performance, their efforts are constantly hampered by haughty critics, a rival theatre troupe, wailing children, wild animals, and the pleasures of Athena’s polis.

Will The Etrurian Players overcome distraction to win over the people of Athens? Will they survive the trials and judgement of Apollo? Or will they succumb to the humiliation and self-doubt that lurks around every creative corner?

Only by believing in themselves and helping each other can they survive and prove once again that The Etrurian Players are worthy of praise and the Gods’ favour.

If you like dramatic and comic stories about wild artists, persistent shades, and unbelievable episodes with goats, monkeys, and dogs, then you will howl and cry at An Altar of Indignities!

Read this book today for a theatrical misadventure in Roman Athens that will leave you asking the Gods ‘What were they thinking?’.

If you haven’t yet experienced The Etrurian Players series, be sure to check out Book I first, the multi award-winning title, Sincerity is a Goddess: A Dramatic and Romantic Comedy of Ancient Rome.

If you are feeling down about the world at the moment, The Etrurian Players series is just the ticket you need to feel good and know that there is indeed hope for us all!

An Altar of Indignities is now available in ebook, paperback and deluxe hardcover editions from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortar chains, and your local public library.

CLICK HERE to buy a copy or get ISBN# information for the edition of your choice.

You can also purchase the ebook directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing by clicking HERE.

We’re so excited to share this dramatic and romantic comedy with the world, and we’re thrilled that you’re joining us on the adventure!

Thank you for reading!

 

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New Deluxe Hardcover Release! – The Carpathian Interlude

This October, Eagles and Dragons Publishing is thrilled to announce the release of our complete historical horror trilogy, The Carpathian Interlude, in a new, deluxe hardcover edition!

We’re really proud of the hardcover books we design here at Eagles and Dragons Publishing, and with this latest one we’ve exceeded our expectations!

In addition to the sturdy hardcover case and jacket that will see this book pass safely through many readers’ hands – especially in a public library setting – there are also fun design details like the carved image of the ‘Taurauctony’ of the god, Mithras, as well as the haunting image of the Kalkriese mask from the Teutoberg Forest massacre.

If you don’t know why those are relevant to the story, then you’ll need to read the book!

Here’s a peek at the full hardcover jacket, case, and the story synopsis…

Hardcover Dust Jacket

The Hardcover Case beneath the jacket

The Carpathian Interlude

Only when fear is at its most intense can true heroism come into the light.

For ages, an ancient evil has been hiding in the heart of the Carpathian Mountains, an enemy of the god Mithras, Lord of Light.

In A.D. 9, when three of the Emperor Augustus’ legions are slaughtered in the forests of Germania, it becomes evident to a small group of experienced veterans that something more sinister than the rebellious German tribes is responsible for the massacre.

It falls to Gaius Justus Vitalis and a few warriors favoured by Mithras to hunt down and destroy the forces of undead spurred on by this ancient evil. Summoning all of their courage, they must wade through horror and rivers of blood to bring Mithras’ light into the darkness, or else see the destruction of Rome, the Empire, and all they hold dear.

The adventure begins with the appearance of a young refugee beneath the walls of a distant legionary base…

The Carpathian Interlude is the perfect read for fans of Roman historical fiction and horror. Read it for Halloween, during the dark days of Winter, or any time you’re craving adventure.

Step into the world of The Carpathian Interlude today for an epic and visceral adventure in the Roman Empire that you will never forget!

The Carpathian Interlude: The Complete Trilogy is available in ebook, paperback and hardcover from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.

CLICK HERE to buy a copy or get ISBN# information for the edition of your choice.

Are you brave enough?

Thank you for reading.

 

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Sincerity is a Goddess is a Chaucer Award Finalist!

The Gods are Smiling!

We’re thrilled to announce that Adam and Sincerity is a Goddess have made it to the Finals of the Chanticleer International Book Awards’ Chaucer Award for Early Historical Fiction!

This is very exciting news and we can’t wait to see if Fortuna favours them with a First Place or Grand Prize win this coming April.

Thank you to all of our wonderful readers around the world for the amazing support for Adam and Sincerity is a Goddess!

Visit the link below to see the full press release:

https://www.chantireviews.com/2024/02/23/the-chaucer-2023-book-awards-finalists-for-early-historical-fiction/

Congratulations to all of the finalists!

Sincerity is a Goddess: A Dramatic and Romantic Comedy of Ancient Rome is available in e-book, paperback, and hardcover from large and independent books stores, you favourite on-line stores, and your local public library. CLICK HERE to learn more.

 

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The Roman Agora of Athens

When one thinks of the great cities of the ancient world the first that most often comes to mind is Athens. It is a beacon of light, learning, and invention in the far-distant past that continues to inspire and influence us to this day.

It is also my second home, for I have been fortunate enough to return to Athens many times over the years to visit family, and to acquaint myself with the countless historical monuments that still stand, from the Parthenon and Kerameikos, to the often overlooked shrines along the Ilissos River which runs beneath the city.

When I find my way around the city of Athens, I do so by way of its ancient monuments. They have always been my guides, my markers for navigating the warren of streets and alleyways of the city of the Goddess Athena.

Athens, Greece – Monastiraki Square and ancient Acropolis with rainbow

But Athens is not just a place for those fascinated by mythological and Classical Greece. There is also a great deal for the most ardent of Romanophiles to see, for ancient Athens was loved and admired by a few Roman emperors, foremost among them being Hadrian (A.D. 117-138).

This past summer, while on vacation in Greece, I returned to the historic centre of this ancient city to do some research for the forthcoming second novel in The Etrurian Players series. One of the monuments I was most interested in re-visiting was the Roman Agora of Athens.

Before we get into my visit to the site, we should talk a bit about its history and what there is to see…

Plan of the Roman Agora

The agora of an ancient Greek city was the central public gathering place. It was the political, social, business, athletic, and religious heart of the city. The agora was where anything of import happened or was decided.

And the city of Athens was fortunate enough to have two of them.

The first agora of Athens was, of course, the ancient one located at the northwest corner of the Acropolis and covering the area between it, the Areopagus, and the massive Dipylon Gate of the city. And the great route of the Panathenaic Way ran through it, all the way to the entrance to the Acropolis.

The ancient agora was filled stoas and temples and monuments to heroes and to the Gods. There were fountains, a library, a mint, offices, altars, sanctuaries and more. And in around 14 B.C., the Roman general, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa built an odeon in the middle of the ancient agora which had an auditorium for about one thousand spectators.

The Roman Agora from the eastern propylon

Just prior to the time that General Agrippa built his odeon, another building project began to take place in the city of Athens, this time sponsored by Emperor Augustus in fulfillment of a promise previously made by Gaius Julius Caesar. This new project was the Roman Agora, also known as the ‘Roman Forum’ of Athens. It was begun in 19 B.C. and finally finished in 11 B.C.

It is said that the reason for this new building project was because the ancient agora had become so full of monuments and buildings that there was no longer a wide open, public gathering place. As we shall see, the new Roman Agora would serve other purposes.

Gate of Athena Archegetis

The new agora, built by Caesar (posthumously) and Augustus, became the commercial centre of Roman Athens and the main oil market of the city. It was the beating heart of Roman Athens.

The monumental western entrance to the agora at the Gate of Athena Archegetis confirms who sponsored the building of the gate and agora with the following inscription:

The People of Athens from the donations offered by Gaius Julius Caesar the God and the Reverend Emperor son of God To Athena Archegetis, on behalf of the soldiers of Eukles from Marathon, who curated it on behalf of his father Herod and who was also an ambassador under the archon Nicias, son of Sarapion, from the demos of Athmonon

Of course, it was dedicated to Athena as the patron goddess of the city, and because it was Athena who had given Athens the olive tree, and hence the all-important olive oil which was sold in the agora.

The importance of the Roman agora as Athens’ main oil market during the Roman period is also reinforced by the inscription bearing Hadrian’s olive oil law on the doorway of the agora which outlined taxes and fines for false declarations of the production, export, or sale of olive oil there.

Atop the Gate of Athena Archegetis was an equestrian statue of Lucius Caesar, the grandson of Emperor Augustus.

The Roman Agora of Athens consisted of a large paved, open-air courtyard that was surrounded by colonnades of white and grey marble from Penteli and Hymettos. The colonnades were covered and had spaces for shops and merchants selling various goods, storerooms, the offices of the market, and a fountain.

There were two propylaea, including the Gate of Athena Archegetis at the west end, and another propylon at the east end. Both entrances aligned with the ancient roads at either side.

The ‘South Colonnade’ with the remains of the fountains and agora offices on the left

Today, about a third of the north side of the Roman Agora lies beneath the modern streets and buildings, but the south colonnade remains largely intact. Remains, including inscriptions on columns, show that parts of the colonnade were set aside for specific merchants such as oil merchants or butchers. In some of the surviving stylobates, there are also round cavities of varying sizes in the marble that are supposed to have been used to measure out goods.

In the middle of the south colonnade, there was also a fountain with two cisterns at different levels. This was fed from springs on the north slope of the Acropolis just to the south. Also in this location were the market offices where citizens and merchants could pay taxes and take care of other business.

When there was heavy rain, the large court of the agora had an open air drain which allowed for runoff to be carried underground and diverted to the Eridanos River.

Tower of the Winds behind the eastern propylon of the agora

The Roman Agora today is, perhaps, most famous for what is known as the ‘Tower of the Winds’.

This octagonal structure, located just outside the eastern wall of the Roman Agora, contained the horologion built by the astronomer, Andronikos Kyrestes, in the mid 1st century B.C.

The Roman architect, Vitruvius, wrote about the tower in his work De Architectura…

…those who have inquired more diligently lay down that there are eight (winds): especially indeed Andronikos of Kyrrhos, who also, as an example, built at Athens an octagonal marble tower, and, on the several sides of the octagon, had representations of the winds carved to face their currents. And above that tower he caused to be made a marble upright, and above it he placed a bronze Triton holding a rod in his right hand. He so contrived that it was driven round by the wind, and always faced the current of air, and held the rod as indicator above the representation of the wind blowing. 

(Vitruvius, De Architectura, c. 20s B.C.)

The Tower of the Winds is said to be the oldest meteorological station in the world with sundials on the exterior, a hydraulic clock inside, and its bronze weather vane on top indicating the eight winds which is thought to have allowed merchants in the agora to know the winds and estimate the arrival of shipments coming from the port of Piraeus.

Lastly, a few steps from the Tower of the Winds, also just outside the main precinct of the Roman Agora was a large public latrine, or vespasianae, with openings on four sides with a small court for ventilation.

The Roman Agora and the large precinct of the great Library of Hadrian beside it made this area the main administrative centre of the city of Athens, supplanting the classical agora in this role, especially after the Herulian invasion of Athens in A.D. 267.

Adam exploring the Roman Agora

As stated, this was not my first time visiting the Roman Agora of Athens. The site has also appeared in the #1 bestselling Eagles and Dragons series prequel novel, A Dragon Among the Eagles. However, each time I go, it is with a different purpose and perspective. This time, it was to research it as a setting in the next Etrurian Players book.

We left our home in Pangrati early so as to try and beat the heat, and because archaeological sites were closing from 11 a.m. – 4 p.m. during the heatwave. Nevertheless, when we arrived it was a scorching 45 degrees Celsius with no intact colonnades to hide beneath as they would have had when the agora was whole.

After making our way through the crammed alleyways of Plaka and Monastiraki, we purchased our tickets at the office across the street and made our way in beside the Gate of Athena Archegetis.

Remains on-site

Once you enter, you are struck by the expanse of the open courtyard of the agora, even though a large portion of it is covered by the streets and buildings to your left. From there, you make your way along the remains of the south colonnade. Here, there are numerous column capitals, a sarcophagus, and other artifacts lying in the parched grass beneath palms where the resident cats and lizards doze and scurry.

As I walked, I could almost hear the crowds of the market around me, the sounds of the merchants selling their wares. I could imagine the tang of the olive oil in my nostrils. The marble courtyard must have been blinding in the midday sun, but one has to imagine that most of the shops would have closed by the sixth hour of daylight for the afternoon rest, as the Greeks and Romans were wont to do.

Site of fountain in the Roman Agora

We walked past the fountain and the remains of offices in the middle of the south colonnade and, at the end, found the carved hollows in the stylobate where merchants measured (fairly, one hopes!) out products such as grain or beans.

From there, the small forest of columns and a staircase indicate that you have reached the eastern propylon, the monumental entrance on the other side of the agora. As you walk up the stairs, you are keenly aware of the presence of what is the focal point of the archaeological site: The Tower of the Winds.

The Tower of the Winds – the oldest meteorological station in the world

The Tower of the Winds is a mesmerizing monument, as simple as it is. But one cannot take one’s eyes off of the images of the winds portrayed about the top. The smooth, white marble surface is beautiful, the lines of the sundials faintly visible.

One can imagine the citizens of ancient Athens walking up to it to check the time, the same as some do today with modern clock towers on some city halls. But this was the heart of Roman Athens, and so this meteorological monument was a fitting addition to this ancient gathering place.

Interior floor of the Tower of the Winds which held the mechanism of the water clock of the horologion

After exploring the area around the Tower of the Winds, including the vespasianae, the public latrine, we walked back across the open space of the great courtyard, taking time to pause.

I imagined this vast, ancient market place bustling with life, filled with people, with myriad things for sale, and the scenes of my novel that I was searching for began to take shape. I could see a beautiful comedic chaos unfolding!

For a writer of historical fiction, the city of Athens is a dream come true, for the bones of the ancient world are still there to see, to feel, and to inspire.

As the heat reached a literal fever pitch, I was finished with my research for the day and sought the nearest taverna for a cold drink in the shade, something which the Greeks and Romans would gladly have done at that time of day.

Thank you for reading.

Be sure to check out the video of our tour of The Roman Agora of Athens in order to experience this site for yourself. You can view it below, or visit the Eagles and Dragons Publishing YouTube channel by CLICKING HERE.

For some excellent digital recreations of the Roman Agora of Athens, check out the very skilled work of the folks at Ancient Athens 3D HERE.

 

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The Democratic Dilemma: Ancient Democracies and the Decision to Wage War

We make war that we may live in peace.

Aristotle

Is this statement of Aristotle’s correct? Perhaps it was in ancient Greece when the Persians were invading the lands of the Hellenes, murdering and enslaving them. It might even have been true in the smaller world of the Greek homeland when one neighbouring city-state overstepped and boundaries for the relationship needed to be re-established.

This is a very simplistic way of looking at it. War was part of life in the ancient world and a good city-state, and its citizens, were prepared for war if the need should arise.

Perhaps the better question to ask ourselves in regard to Aristotle’s words above is this:

Is this still true today?

Do we still make war that we may live in peace? Or do we make war for other reasons? And who is the ‘We’ in all of this?

As November 11th approaches and we rightly honour the sacrifices of our men and women in uniform, past and present, on Remembrance Day and Veterans Day, questions of war are front of mind for many of us.

I’ve been thinking about writing a post like this for some time now. Let’s face it, it’s not an easy topic, and many are divided. This is more of a thought process post in which we will take a brief look at what ancient democracies and republics did when it came to the decision to go to war, and whether we can learn anything from them today.

Sadly, I can’t recall a time when there wasn’t some terrible conflict choking the screens of our televisions, or drowning the feeds of our social media platforms. Tragically,  it seems that our world is at a terrible tipping point.

It seems like ‘we’ are addicted to war.

Again, I ask, who is the ‘We’ in that statement? Here is another statement from Aristotle for us to consider as we wade through the weedy terrain of this topic:

We are what we repeatedly do.

Aristotle

Ancient Greek Hoplites in Battle

The history of ancient democracies is marked by a fascinating interplay between citizen participation and the conduct of foreign affairs, particularly in matters of war. These early democratic societies grappled with the ethical and practical complexities of deciding whether to go to war against their enemies. The concept of “war by the people, for the people” was not only a foundational principle but also a challenging moral and strategic puzzle.

Let’s explore briefly the decision-making processes and the moral considerations that ancient democratic civilizations such as Athens and the Roman Republic confronted when deciding whether to wage war.

View of the Acropolis of Athens from the Pnyx, site of the Athenian Assembly

The Athenian Democracy

The Athenian democracy, which emerged in the 5th century BCE, is often hailed as a pioneering model of citizen participation in governance. At the heart of Athenian democracy was the Ekklesia, an assembly of free male citizens who could propose and vote on laws, including decisions related to war and peace. Thucydides, the ancient historian, captures the essence of Athenian democracy in his account of the Peloponnesian War:

Pericles… declared that a man who took no interest in public affairs was not a quiet, unoffending citizen, but a useless one. In one word, he conceived that they were born to serve the state, not only in matters great and high, but in the least and lowest also.

(Thucydides – History of the Peloponnesian War)

It is interesting to note that in ancient Greece, the word idiota referred to someone who refrained from participation in public life, who chose not to take part in the decisions that affected the democracy itself.

In ancient Athens, male citizens were expected serve the state, not only by serving the required  minimum of two years in the military, but also by voting and putting forth an opinion on matters great and small, including the decision to go to war.

Are citizens’ voices and opinions held in such high regard today?

Let’s leave that particular question hanging for the moment.

Artist impression of a meeting of the Athenian Assembly on the Pnyx

In the Ekklesia of ancient Athens, the moral dilemma of whether to undertake a certain action or policy, including whether or not to go to war, was expected to be strongly considered by the citizens of the assembly, the citizens of Athens.

However, this empowerment of citizens in the decision-making process came with its own dilemma. Athens faced a delicate balance between the pursuit of its interests and the ethical considerations of war. As Thucydides continues:

…a reason for attacking a neighbour; they thought it equitable to keep what they held and weak to give up anything, and it was more disgraceful to lose anything once possessed than not to have gained at all.

(Thucydides – History of the Peloponnesian War)

This statement will, of course, sting when it comes to the conflicts currently happening in parts of the world, as it should. However, when it comes to imperialistic tendencies, the moral dilemma behind this statement stings all the more.

If a country has what it has always had, if it has not been attacked, should it still go to war?

There is was definite tension between self-interest and moral principles in Athenian democracy. The Ekklesia had the power to decide on war, but it was not always clear whether the decision was driven by strategic necessity or imperial ambition.

Most citizens of the Greek city-states agreed that the war against Persia had to be waged. It was about survival, about ‘freedom or death’, a phrase that is ingrained in the Greek psyche to this day. Could the same be said of the Peloponnesian conflict?

Pericles’ funeral oration for Athenian dead of Peloponnesian War.

Wars have dire consequences on both sides of the conflict, so why do ‘we’ seem to be so willing to engage in them?

In ancient Athens, the people had a voice, or at least they were supposed to. Here are some specific examples of confrontations in ancient Athens in which the decision to go to war was hotly debated by the citizenry:

The Peloponnesian War (431-404 BCE) – Athens vs. Sparta

The outbreak of the Peloponnesian War between Athens and Sparta was met with significant debate in the Athenian Ekklesia. The statesman Pericles argued in favour of a defensive strategy, urging the Athenians to retreat behind the city’s walls and rely on their navy which was the strongest in the world at the time. However, there was public opposition to this strategy, with some advocating for a more aggressive stance.

Ultimately, the Athenian assembly decided to follow Pericles’ strategy, leading to the construction of the Long Walls that connected Athens to its port, Piraeus. Still, at various points during the Peloponnesian War, there were instances of public opposition to the conflict, particularly in Athens. The war’s prolonged nature and the suffering of the Athenian population led to widespread dissatisfaction. 

The war, marked by several debates and shifts in strategies, eventually ended with the defeat of Athens in 404 BCE.

The Sicilian Expedition (415-413 BCE) – Athens vs. Syracuse

The Sicilian Expedition was a controversial military campaign proposed by the Athenian general Alcibiades not only against Sparta, but this time also against Corinth and Syracuse. Many Athenians were initially opposed to it due to its immense cost and risks.

Again, there was much debate in the Ekklesia of Athens with the young, arrogant Alcibiades pushing for war. In opposition to him, the commander, Nicias, debated that Athens should not go to war in Sicily, that they would be leaving powerful enemies at their backs as the war still raged in Greece. Nicias also tried to warn the assembly that Alcibiades and his proponents wanted to lead Athens into war for their own ends. 

Despite public opposition and concerns, the Athenian assembly eventually approved the expedition. Unfortunately for Nicias, and for Athens, two hundred ships and thousands of soldiers were sent to Sicily, and they were all lost. Athens had spread itself too thinly and its, (and Alcibiades’) ‘imperial hubris’ were the death stroke for Athens.

The Sicilian Expedition ended in a catastrophic failure, with the Athenian fleet and forces suffering heavy losses, which significantly weakened Athens in the Peloponnesian War.

The Peloponnesian War and the Sicilian Expedition both had severe, negative impacts on both Athens and Sparta. Athens experienced a devastating plague that decimated its population, and the conflict drained its treasury. In Sparta, the prolonged war created economic hardships, and the agricultural land was ravaged. Ultimately, the war resulted in the eventual defeat and decline of Athens, but left both city-states significantly weakened.

In these prolonged conflicts one could say that both sides ‘lost’, for the winner and the loser both paid heavy prices.

Was the Athenian citizenry swayed by false promises and flowery rhetoric? Probably.

Painting depicting Cicero speaking out in the Senate

The Roman Republic

In the Roman Republic, a different form of democratic governance emerged. Power was divided between the Senate, an aristocratic body of elders, and various popular assemblies in which Roman citizens could vote on key matters. The Roman Republic’s decision to go to war was often a complex interplay between the Senate and the Popular Assemblies.

This form of government is more akin to our modern democracies than that of ancient Athens where citizens had the opportunity to speak for themselves in the assembly and to vote directly on decisions.

When it came to debates in the Roman Senate about decisions to go to war, few could argue so eloquently as the Roman statesman and philosopher, Cicero. He grappled with the ethical dimensions of war in his writings. In his work De Officiis (On Duties), he discusses the moral principles that should guide leaders in deciding whether to wage war:

[W]e must consider not only the honesty and justice of going to war, but also the ways and means of conducting it… Above all, nothing is more disgraceful than to be eager to make war, but without taking proper precautions.

(Marcus Tullius Cicero, On Duties)

Cicero’s emphasis on the necessity of just cause and proportionality in warfare reflects the moral concerns that were at the heart of Roman deliberations. He wasn’t against war, but strongly emphasized careful consideration of what it meant, the cost to the Republic and its citizens, as well as proper preparation if the decision to go to war was taken.

In the history of Rome, there were numerous wars and conflicts that were hotly debated and pushed for by various factions in the Senate and Popular Assemblies. Here are a couple of examples…

The Roman Invasion of Carthage (149-146 BCE) – Roman Republic vs. Carthage

When it came to the third Punic War which followed the defeat of Hannibal in the second, the Roman Senate was divided over whether to fight Carthage once more. Prominent senators like Cato the Elder argued passionately for the destruction of Carthage, citing it as a long-term threat to Rome. He was so eager for the destruction of Carthage that it is said that he ended nearly every speech in the Senate with Carthago delenda est – “Carthage must be destroyed”.

However, others were more cautious, as Carthage posed no immediate danger, having been thoroughly trounced at the Battle of Zama.

Despite opposition to the war – for the Roman people had suffered greatly in the previous one with Hannibal arriving at the gates of Rome itself – the Roman Senate ultimately declared war on Carthage and the Third Punic War began. The conflict ended with the complete destruction of Carthage in 146 BCE, symbolized by the razing of the city, the apparent salting of the surrounding earth, and the enslavement of its population. Rome may have won that particular war, but at what cost to the Roman people?

The Roman Civil Wars (1st Century BCE) – Various Factions

The final years of the Roman Republic were marked by intense political and military conflicts among various factions, including the Populares and the Optimates. Key figures like Julius Caesar, Pompey, and Cicero were involved in debates over the course of action. Cicero, for instance, consistently advocated for the preservation of the Republic through peaceful means. He loved the Republic, and did not want to see it destroyed.

The aim of a ship’s captain is a successful voyage; a doctor’s, health; a general’s, victory. So the aim of our ideal statesman is the citizens’ happy life–that is, a life secure in wealth, rich in resources, abundant in renown, and honourable in its moral character. That is the task which I wish him to accomplish–the greatest and best that any man can have.

(Marcus Tullius Cicero, On the Republic / On the Laws)   

Unfortunately for the Roman people, the prolonged civil war that came out of the debates brought about political instability, economic hardships, and military conscription, which took a toll on the Roman populace. The social fabric of Rome was torn asunder, and the eventual victory of Julius Caesar marked the end of the Republic and the beginning of the Roman Empire, with centralized imperial rule replacing the traditional republican system.

Cicero had been justified in his concern about the erosion of the Republic’s institutions.

In both the examples of the Third Punic War and the Civil Wars, the disregard for public opposition to war by political leaders had serious repercussions. These instances serve as cautionary tales, highlighting the consequences of leaders pursuing their agendas despite significant public resistance, ultimately leading to significant upheaval and societal change.

Civil War

This is a vastly complicated topic, and we have but scratched the surface of the armour here. We’ve only looked at a few examples out of many in the history of Greece and Rome.

Comparing the Athenian and Roman models of democracy reveals striking differences in their approaches to war. Athens embraced a more direct form of democracy, where the citizens themselves decided on matters of war. This often led to rapid and aggressive military actions. In contrast, the Roman Republic, with its complex system of checks and balances, tended to approach war with more caution, as reflected in Cicero’s moral reflections. Still, were the wishes of Rome’s citizens carefully considered? Was Cicero facing a tidal wave of opposition, or were the greedy motives of a few what brought war to the Roman people once again?

Both Athens and Rome grappled with moral considerations when deciding whether to wage war. Pericles’ assertion of civic duty in Athens and Cicero’s ethical principles in Rome demonstrate that moral discourse was intrinsic to these ancient democracies. However, both models were not infallible. One could say that the Athenian democratic and Roman Republican models allowed for debate, but were also prone to more impulsive decisions driven by self-interest.

Artist impression of the Second Macedonian War

Ancient democracies navigated the intricate path of deciding whether to wage war against their enemies. These societies, though distinct in their democratic structures, were united in their commitment to deliberating the ethical dimensions of warfare.

The tension between self-interest and moral principles was an enduring challenge, reflecting the enduring complexity of democratic decision-making. 

As we reflect on these historical examples, we are reminded that the dilemma of whether to go to war or not remains a pressing concern in contemporary democracies. The lessons of the past offer valuable insights into the delicate balance between the will of the people and the moral and strategic imperatives that underpin the decision to wage war. Ancient democracies can serve as a source of inspiration and contemplation as we grapple with the challenges of our own time.

Modern politicians would do well to mind what history has taught us.

Public opposition and debates were common, reflecting the diversity of opinions within these societies. The outcomes varied, often with significant consequences for the states involved.

Certainly, there were instances in ancient Greece and Rome where the people were strongly opposed to going to war, but politicians ignored their concerns and pursued military campaigns regardless. These wars often had negative impacts on the populations involved, and this is not relegated to the distant past, but has indeed played out in the modern era.

Vietnam War

Here are some examples:

The Vietnam War (1955-1975) – This conflict had devastating consequences for both the United States and Vietnam. It resulted in a high death toll, significant economic expenditure, and a deeply divided American society. The war also led to environmental damage due to the widespread use of defoliants like Agent Orange.

In the case of the Vietnam War, American politicians faced widespread public opposition, with anti-war protests, draft dodging, and disillusionment among the youth. The negative impact of the war, both in terms of lives lost and economic burden, weighed heavily on subsequent administrations. The war’s unpopularity played a role in the electoral defeat of President Lyndon B. Johnson and influenced the 1972 presidential election.

The Iraq War (2003-2011) – This war had profound negative consequences. It destabilized the region, led to the loss of thousands of lives, and incurred substantial financial costs. The war’s aftermath saw the rise of extremist groups and sectarian violence, contributing to regional instability that persists to this day.

The Iraq War faced significant public opposition, and politicians who supported it faced criticism. The war’s costs, both in terms of lives and resources, contributed to declining public support and played a role in the 2008 presidential election, where the Iraq War was a key issue.

The Afghanistan War (2001-2021) – This was America’s longest conflict, and it had significant negative consequences. It resulted in a protracted and costly military engagement, with a high human toll. Despite initial objectives to combat terrorism, Afghanistan remained politically unstable, and the Taliban regained control following the U.S. withdrawal in 2021.

The Afghanistan War eroded public support over time and, one could say, the global good will toward the U.S. after 9/11 was ultimately squandered by the drawn out conflict. Politicians who advocated for continued military involvement often faced scrutiny, and the war’s unpopularity became a factor in subsequent elections.

American troops in Afghanistan

Again, these are just a few examples of wars, but it is worth asking: Are they worth the human, financial, and societal costs?

Perhaps modern politicians should listen more closely to public opinion, and take a more ‘Ciceronian’ approach to war when assessing the costs and consequences of going to war? There should be a robust debate. Should any one person make the decision to go to war? I would say there is too much at stake to allow that.

Citizens of modern democracies are led to believe that politicians encourage open and robust debates on matters of war and conflict. Do they?

Public discourse and debate can help weigh the pros and cons, ensuring that decisions are well-informed and scrutinized. Does that happen?

Do you think that diplomacy and conflict resolution should be prioritized whenever possible? 

Do you believe that war should be a last resort, and politicians should exhaust all diplomatic avenues before considering military action?

Again, we come back to one of the questions asked at the outset: Are citizens’ voices and opinions on these matters held in such high regard today as they were, say, in ancient Athens?

In ancient democracies, the people had avenues to express their wishes in matters of war, but do we truly have that today? Do the people’s wishes truly matter? Are our politicians simply taking the ‘easy’ way out?

It is more difficult to organize a peace than to win a war; but the fruits of victory will be lost if the peace is not organized.

Aristotle

The Voice of the People

I realize that our modern western democracies are enormous, covering continents in some instances. It is impossible for all citizens to gather in one place to debate, discuss, and vote as the Athenians did on the Pnyx in ancient Athens, or as the Roman people did on the Field of Mars or in the Forum Romanum.

Today, the people have their elected representatives speaking for them, be it in the House of Commons, or the in the Senate. The decisions taken in these bodies affect everyone.

The question now is, do you, as a citizen feel like your representatives in the Commons or Senate hear you and consider your own wishes and needs? When it comes to the deeply serious moral dilemma of whether or not our democracies should go to war, are the citizenry being listened to?

What would the world be like if all of our politicians were as thoughtful as Cicero, for example, when it came to matters of war and its consequences?

In some of the examples above, we’ve seen what happens when the citizenry is ignored. So today, we need to ask ourselves that if the will of the majority, of the people, is not being taken into account when it comes to the decisions that impact our way of life, our world, our very lives, is change required? Is the system of government broken? Have the elected representatives in our democracies lost sight of the true nature and purpose of those same democracies?

History seems to be repeating itself, and not in a good way.

Is it time for the citizenry to reassert its voice? Should there be virtual referendums when it comes to the decision of going to war?

I, like many of you, have many questions and doubts. But I do know this: Democracy may not be a perfect or fool-proof system, but it is (or at least it should be) at its core, more honest and fair.

Maybe we just need more Ciceros.

Thank you for reading.

This Remembrance Day and Veterans Day, Eagles and Dragons Publishing is, as always, grateful to our men and women in uniform who risk their lives to keep us all safe at home and abroad. We are proud to have made contributions to the causes of the following charities: Royal Canadian Legion Poppy Campaign, War Child Canada, and Wounded Warriors Canada.

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Mosaics and Mosaicists in the Roman Empire

The Art Beneath our Feet – Remote Mosaic in Roman North Africa

Greetings history-lovers!

Today we have a bit of a different post for you.

I don’t know about you, but whenever I travel around the Mediterranean to visit museums and archaeological sites, one of the things that always draws my eye are mosaics.

I can’t get enough of them to be honest. They fascinate me endlessly and I’m always shocked by how thousands of tiny tesserae can be combined to make almost lifelike images.

In a way, mosaics are artifacts that we often take for granted today as we tour ancient sites, but the fact remains that mosaic making is an ancient art form that has been used to decorate floors, walls, and ceilings for centuries.

The art of mosaic making reached its zenith during the Roman Empire, and Greek and Roman mosaicists across the empire produced some of the most beautiful and intricate mosaics in the world from Rome to North Africa and Carthage to Zeugma along the Euphrates river where some of the most glorious mosaics of the Roman world were rescued.

In this post, we will explore the art of mosaic making in the Roman Empire, and the techniques, materials, and designs that made it so unique.

Mosaic wall in Mesopotamia – 3rd Millennium B.C.E. (source: Klink)

Mosaic making is an art form that dates back to ancient Mesopotamia, where it was used to decorate the floors and walls of temples and palaces in the third millennium B.C.E.

The art of mosaic making was also popular in ancient Greece, where it was used to decorate public buildings and homes. On the sacred island of Delos, the mythical birthplace of Apollo, some of the most beautiful mosaics of the ancient Greek world are still visible, open to the Delian sky. If you look around the edges of this very website, you’ll see one of them!

Mosaic at the House of the Dolphins on Delos.

However, it was during the Roman Empire that mosaic making reached the height of sophistication.

Roman mosaics were characterized by their intricate designs, complex patterns, and use of a wide variety of materials. They were used to decorate the floors, walls, and ceilings of public buildings, such as temples, palaces, and baths, as well as private homes.

The range and beauty of Roman mosaics, as well as the skills of Roman mosaicists, really hit me when I was visiting the Bardo Museum in Tunis (Carthage) some years ago when doing research for Children of Apollo. Room after room contained mosaics that seemed to move upon the very walls and floors. To read about my visit to the Bardo Museum just CLICK HERE.

Roman mosaic representation of the months from North Africa

When it came to creating these intricate masterpieces, the techniques used by Roman mosaicists were highly sophisticated and involved a great deal of skill and precision.

Mosaics were created by laying small pieces of coloured stone, glass, or ceramic tiles, called tesserae, onto a bed of wet plaster. The tesserae were arranged to create intricate designs and patterns, and the finished mosaic was polished to create a smooth, even surface.

Roman mosaicists used a wide variety of materials to create their mosaics. The most commonly used materials were marble, limestone, and glass, which were all readily available in the Roman Empire. The tesserae were cut into small square or rectangular pieces, and were often arranged in intricate patterns and design.

Some mosaicist tools and materials

Roman mosaics were famous for their intricate designs and patterns, which often depicted scenes from mythology, nature, and everyday life. We learn a lot about the latter from mosaics! The designs were created by arranging the tesserae in a specific pattern, and it is believed they may have used drawings as a guide.

Some of the most famous Roman mosaics are the ones that depict scenes from mythology, such as the four seasons or the twelve signs of the zodiac. These mosaics often featured elaborate designs and intricate patterns, and were highly prized by the wealthy and powerful.

Mosaic depicting Roman country life and activities.

Roman mosaicists were highly skilled craftsmen who were revered for their artistry and technical skill. It is believed that they worked in workshops, where they would create mosaics for public and private buildings. Despite the survival of countless mosaics around the Mediterranean world, the actual names of these skilled mosaicists do not survive.

One of the few mosaicist’s names that have come down to us from the Roman world is the Greek artist Sosus of Pergamon, who created the famous “unswept floor” and “doves drinking at a bowl” mosaics.

Some mosaicists did sign their works, leaving behind their names for posterity. The famous mosaicist, Dioscurides of Samos, signed his name on a mosaic in Pompeii, ensuring his reputation would endure. However, the majority of mosaicists remain anonymous, as the focus was primarily on the artwork itself rather than the individual artist.

‘Doves drinking at a bowl’ mosaic by Sosus of Pergamon

Though we do not know many of their names, it is believed that mosaicists were highly respected in Roman society, and were often commissioned to create mosaics for the wealthy and powerful. They were also highly skilled in the use of colour and texture, and were able to create mosaics that were both beautiful and durable.

Roman mosaicists worked in specialized workshops where they would design and create their mosaics. These workshops were bustling centres of artistic activity, employing skilled artisans and apprentices who specialized in various aspects and stages of mosaic making from design to completion.

The mosaicists, often working in collaboration with architects and patrons, would create detailed sketches of the desired mosaic design. These sketches served as blueprints, guiding the placement of tesserae and ensuring the overall composition and proportions were accurate.

Mosaic of street performers by Dioscurides of Samos (Wikimedia Commons)

Once the design was finalized, the mosaicists would begin the painstaking process of selecting and cutting tesserae. They had to carefully choose stones, marbles, and glass pieces of various colours and textures to achieve the desired effect. The tesserae were then meticulously cut into uniform shapes, usually square or rectangular, using tools such as hammers and chisels.

To create a mosaic, the mosaicists would first prepare a flat surface by applying a layer of lime or gypsum plaster. This layer, known as the “bedding,” provided a stable base for the tesserae. Working in small sections, the mosaicists would apply a layer of wet mortar onto the bedding and carefully press the tesserae into it, one by one. They would often use special tools, such as tongs or tweezers, to ensure precise placement and alignment.

After the tesserae were set, the mosaicists would let the mortar dry and harden. Once the mosaic was solid, they would clean the surface and remove any excess mortar. The final step involved polishing the mosaic to achieve a smooth and lustrous finish. This was done by rubbing the surface with stones, sand, or even pieces of polished metal.

Preparing a mosaic bed

Roman mosaics displayed a wide range of themes and subjects, reflecting the cultural, mythological, and social context of the time. Mosaics were often used to depict scenes from mythology and history, showcasing the Romans’ deep appreciation for their ancestral stories and legendary heroes.

Mythological scenes featuring gods, goddesses, and mythical creatures were particularly popular. These mosaics brought ancient myths to life and adorned the walls and floors of temples, villas, and public spaces. The stories of the gods and heroes provided moral and religious lessons and connected the viewers with the divine.

Mosaic depicting Odysseus in the Bardo Museum

In addition to mythology, Roman mosaics also depicted scenes from daily life, nature, and the world around them. Mosaics with intricate floral patterns, animals, landscapes, and still-life compositions were abundant. They celebrated the beauty of the natural world and brought elements of the outdoors into interior spaces.

The legacy of Roman mosaicists can be seen in the numerous surviving mosaics that have withstood the test of time. These mosaics, found in archaeological sites, museums, and private collections around the world, continue to captivate and inspire audiences with their beauty and craftsmanship.

The Lod Mosaic

While the Roman Empire may have come to an end, the art of mosaic making has not faded into history. It continues to thrive in the modern world, with artisans and enthusiasts carrying on the ancient tradition.

Today, mosaicists draw inspiration from the techniques and designs of their Roman predecessors while incorporating contemporary styles and materials. They explore new possibilities by combining traditional tesserae with elements such as glass beads, ceramic tiles, and even recycled materials. Modern technology has also enhanced the craft, allowing for precise cutting and shaping of tesserae and the creation of intricate designs with computer-aided programs.

Gaudi’s Trencadis Mosaics at Sagrada Familia (source: Sagrada Familia blog)

Mosaic making has found its place not only in the realm of traditional art but also in contemporary architecture and public installations. Mosaics grace the facades of buildings, embellish public spaces, and adorn urban landscapes, adding colour, vibrancy, and cultural richness to our surroundings.

There are even mosaic-making workshops and schools offer opportunities for aspiring artists to learn the ancient techniques and develop their skills. Courses and classes provide a platform for creativity and artistic expression, ensuring that the art of mosaic making will continue to evolve and flourish. CLICK HERE for some recommended Greek and Roman mosaic making classes you can take today! Who knows? Maybe your work will adorn the floor of your home or a public space!

The art of mosaic making reached its height of sophistication during the Roman Empire, and Greek and Roman mosaicists produced some of the most beautiful and intricate mosaics in the world, the legacy of which can still be felt to this day.

Their names may have been forgotten, but their artistic creations live on!

Thank you for reading.

Aeneas and Dido mosaic from Low Ham Roman Villa near Ilchester

If you are interested in a wonderful historical fantasy series based around mosaic making in ancient Byzantium, I highly recommend Guy Gavriel Kay’s The Sarantine Mosaic duology which you can check out HERE.

Also, for those who are interested, the video below shows the mission to rescue the incredible mosaics at the ancient city of Zeugma along the Euphrates river. These mosaics are some of the most wonderful works of art to come out of the ancient world and are well worth seeing!

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The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part IX – Plautus: Playwright of the Roman People

Greetings Readers and History-Lovers!

Welcome to the final post in The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we are taking a look at some of the research that went into our latest novel set in ancient Rome.

If you missed Part VIII on the theatre of Pompey, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.

In Part IX, we’re going to take a brief look at the ancient playwright whose work is central to the story of Sincerity is a Goddess: Plautus.

We hope you enjoy…

In misfortune if you cultivate a cheerful disposition you will reap the advantage of it.

– Plautus

Sincerity is a Goddess was always intended to be a comedy that involved the production of a play, but in the initial stages of research, one of the very first questions I had to pose myself was “What play?”

A lot hinged on the choice. Of course, when one thinks of ancient playwrights, one inevitably thinks of the great Greek playwrights, Aeschylus, Aristophanes, Euripides and others. But I knew that I wanted to use a Roman playwright’s work for this dramatic and romantic comedy, and so the choice inevitably came down to one between Terence and Plautus, the great comic playwrights of Republican Rome whose work was based on Greek New Comedy and subjects dealing with ordinary family life, love, and hilarity.

Terence’s plays are full of feeling. They are tender.

However, Plautus’ plays tended to be more comic and raucous with lots of music, songs, and duets that keep the audience at a distance. One might say that, in his time, Plautus had more popular appeal with the Roman people.

And so, I chose Plautus and his Menaechmi.

Titus Maccius Plautus (c. 254 – 184 B.C.)

Let deeds match words.

-Plautus

Who was Titus Maccius Plautus?

Let’s take a brief look at the man and his origins.

Plautus, who later became the great Roman comedy writer we know of, was originally from Sarsina, a town in northern Italy in Emilia-Romagna.

Early in his life, he moved to Rome where it is believed he worked at a trade in the theatre, either as a stage carpenter or scene-shifter. He also made money at some form of business, perhaps to do with shipping, but that business went under. He also worked as a baker, apparently.

The second century A.D. writer, Gellius, gives us some hints about Plautus’ life before fame:

Now there are in circulation under the name of Plautus about one hundred and thirty comedies; but that most learned of men Lucius Aelius thought that only twenty-five of them were his. However, there is no doubt that those which do not appear to have been written by Plautus but are attached to his name, were the work of poets of old but were revised and touched up by him, and that is why they savour of the Plautine style. Now Varro and several others have recorded that the Saturio, the Addictus, and a third comedy, the name of which I do not now recall, were written by Plautus in a bakery, when, after losing in trade all the money which he had earned in employments connected with the stage, he had returned penniless to Rome, and to earn a livelihood had hired himself out to a baker, to turn a mill, of the kind which is called a “push-mill.”

(Aulus Gellius, Attic Nights)

Luckily, his exposure to theatre is what got hold of him, and it seems that he began to write…and write…and write. We may not know much about Plautus’ personal life, but we are very fortunate indeed that much of his catalogue of plays survived the ages.

Plautine manuscript from 1530

Plautus wrote verse comedies, or fabulae palliatae which were based on Greek New Comedy, and he achieved huge success.

The plays of Plautus are the first substantial surviving written works in Latin and, no doubt thanks to the fact that they were so popular, they were copied frequently.

We know little about the man himself. Some hypothesized that even his name was not his true name and that ‘Maccius’ was actually a corruption of ‘Maccus’ the clown character in the Atellan farces, and that ‘Plautus’ meant ‘flat-foot’, referring to a character in the mimes. However, how many artists use stage names or pseudonyms? Lots, I’d say.

Though Plautus the man may be a mystery, we do know much about his extensive catalogue of works. It is not known exactly how many plays he wrote, but 21 have survived in their entirety, and there are fragments or mentions of an additional 30. In the quote above, Gellius alludes to many more as a possibility.

The metres of Plautus’ verse combined Greek metrical patterns with the stress patterns of the Latin language when spoken. But he went beyond simple translation.

Plautus adapted plays from Greek instead. He added much more music and songs, or cantica, like opera arias, then was normal in New Comedy. The performances were perhaps more like modern musicals which, in turn, partially owe their existence to Plautus’ work. Just think of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, by Stephen Sondheim. That musical is basically a great homage to Plautus!

Plautus’ plays appealed to Roman audiences because they presented a Latinized glimpse of Greek sophistication and outrageous behaviour that was outside of the audience’s experience. After all, theatre should be an escape!

Not by age but by capacity is wisdom acquired.

– Plautus

Plautus’ plays lacked the characterization and refinement of Greek New Comedy. His humour was more about jokes, verbal tricks, puns and alliteration that delighted the audience. He mastered the use of vulgarity, humour, and incongruity.

His stock characters were influenced by the Attelan farces, and included slaves, concubines, soldiers, and doddery old men. He created the ‘clever slave’ which would, in time, come to be known as a ‘Plautine Slave’. Often, the slave was smarter than his master, and even compared to a hero.

The plays involved everything from love and misunderstanding, to ghosts, rogues, tricksters, and braggarts who get humiliated in the end. Plautus only wrote one play based on myth, his Amphitruo. The rest of his plays portray the lives of more everyday people who his audiences could, more or less, relate to.

The Menaechmi itself is a comedy of errors about twins separated in infancy, in a Greek setting with numerous Roman references.

Not only did Plautus adapt Greek plays, he expanded on them and modified them in such a way that he made Greek theatre Roman!

Because he was a man of the people, having experienced their same toils, Plautus’ plays touched a nerve that made them extremely popular. They were performed for centuries after his death, well into the Renaissance, and his work was extremely influential on such greats as William Shakespeare (Comedy of Errors) and Moliere, who made use of many Plautine elements.

Like many comedians to this day, however, Plautus was not immune to criticism. Playwrights have always been rebels. The more conservative elements in Rome accused him of disrespecting the gods because his characters were sometimes compared to the gods either in mockery or praise. Sometimes, his characters even scorned the gods!

Some believe that Plautus was simply reflecting the changing tide of Roman society. He may have been controversial, but not enough to ban or prosecute him. Roman politicians were always keenly aware of the mood of the mob.

Artist impression of the Second Macedonian War

Conquered, we conquer.

-Plautus

War is a subject that seems constant throughout history. We are certainly aware of it today (sadly), as were Plautus and the Roman people.

During Plautus’ lifetime, the Roman people endured three great wars: the Second Punic War against Hannibal, and the First and Second Macedonian Wars against Philip V and Greece.

With the Second Punic War, the Roman Republic and people were fighting for their lives with the enemy being literally at their gates at one point. When it finally ended, they were exhausted by war, tired of it.

When certain powers in Rome wished to wage a successive war on Greece and Philip V of Macedon, the Roman people were not as supportive, and Plautus reflected these popular, anti-war sentiments in his plays such as Miles Gloriosus, and Stichus. 

Many Romans did not want another war, and Plautus championed them in a way by giving voice to their anti-war voices and touching on themes of economic hardship forced on the citizens by the wars.

Sounds strangely familiar to us today, doesn’t it?

One could say that the greatest contribution of Plautus’ work, his genius even, was to take up the cause of the average Roman through comedy.

He was saying that the state should take care of its suffering people at home before undertaking military actions abroad.

We should bear in mind too that at this time in Roman history, when the Roman Republic was expanding and gathering power, Roman theatre was still in its infancy.

Plautus broke new ground in Rome. He made the people laugh, but he also gave them an important voice.

Since he has passed to the grave, for Plautus Comedy sorrows;

Now is the stage deserted; and Play, and Jesting, and Laughter,

Dirges, though written in numbers yet numberless, join in lamenting.

– Epitaph for Plautus, attributed to Plautus by Gellius and Varro

We have but scratched the surface of Plautus’ life and plays. Little more is known of him personally but, as with any writer, we can perhaps discern something of the man from the stories he put into the world.

There can be no doubt that the Roman world mourned his death on some level, as is attested by the moving epitaph shared by his fellow writers.

In a sense though, because so much of his work has survived time, and continues to be performed, to influence other art, Plautus is perhaps one of the most immortal of Romans.

Renaissance representation of Plautus

The plays of Plautus are fun to read, even today, and I would encourage you to delve into them.

For my part, I truly enjoyed reading and re-reading the Menaechmi, and by incorporating it into Sincerity is a Goddess, by diving deep into the study of it, it has given me a new and wonderful insight into Roman theatre, and the man who was truly the playwright of the Roman people.

Thank you for reading.

Well, that is the end of The World of Sincerity is a Goddess. The curtain has fallen (or risen out of the ground, as was the case in Roman theatres!).

We hope you have enjoyed this blog series, and that you enjoy Sincerity is a Goddess if you read it. If you have read it, please leave a review on the Eagles and Dragons Publishing website or on the store where you purchased the book. Reviews are a wonderful way for new readers to find this dramatic and romantic comedy of ancient Rome!

If you missed any of the posts in this nine-part blog series, you can read all of them on one web page by CLICKING HERE.

Sincerity is a Goddess is available in hardcover, paperback, and ebook from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortar chains, and your local public library.

CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s for the edition of your choice.

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The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part VIII – The Theatre of Pompey

Greetings Readers and History-Lovers!

Welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we are taking a look at some of the research that went into our latest novel set in ancient Rome.

If you missed Part VII on doctors in the Roman Empire, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.

In Part VIII, we’re going to be exploring one of the major settings in Sincerity is a Goddess: the Theatre of Pompey.

Not only does this theatre play a large role in our story, but it also has a fascinating foundation story in addition to being the site of one of the most infamous moments in the history of Rome.

We hope you enjoy…

When designing a theater, you should include porticoes behind the stage to house the audience when a sudden downpour disrupts the performances, and to provide some open space for the preparation of stage sets. The Pompeian Portico is an example of this.

(Vitruvius, Architecture 5.9.1)

In a previous post in this blog series, we already discussed the history of theatres in ancient Rome and how they started out as temporary wooden stages set up for festivals, only to be torn down at the end of the show. If you missed that post, you can read it HERE.

The Theatre of Pompey, or the Theatrum Pompeii, is different in that it changed the game, so to speak. Its creation not only gave theatre its first permanent home in ancient Rome, but it also changed the architecture and purpose of theatres in general, an influence that can still be felt to this day!

Theatre of Mytilene that inspired Pompey

The Theatre of Pompey was, of course, built by the general and politician Pompey the Great, a contemporary of Julius Caesar who had also been married to Caesar’s daughter, Julia.

In 62 B.C. it is said that on a visit to the island of Mytilene (Lesvos), Pompey was inspired by the theatre there. He was in his second consulship and so, to solidify his popularity he conceived of the idea of building a permanent theatre for the people of Rome.

However, Roman law forbid the building of stone theatres within the pomerium, the sacred boundary of the city of Rome. So, Pompey decided to build his theatre in the ager Romanus, the area outside the boundary of the pomerium, on the Campus Martius, the Field of Mars.

Construction is said to have begun around 61 B.C. with the theatre being completed around 55 B.C.

Map of Republican Rome with the borders of the Pomerium in pink.

Despite building outside of the pomerium, there were still some conservative parties who opposed the construction of a permanent theatre.

Pompey, cunning general that he was, further circumvented the law against theatres by making the theatre itself a sort of substructure for the temple of his patron goddess, Venus Victrix. Opposite the stage at the top of the cavea, the auditorium, Pompey built a magnificent temple to the goddess. The seats of the auditorium, which had a capacity for well over 22,000 people, provided the steps leading up to the temple!

Digital reconstruction of the Theatre of Pompey (Wikimedia Commons)

Now that the structure was mainly a structure dedicated to the goddess Venus herself, none could dare oppose its construction! The Christian writer, Tertullian, writes about this:

I especially wish to demonstrate for other Christians how those traditional spectacles of Roman entertainment are not compatible with the true religion and the true worship of the one true God.…

Let us consider the true nature of theatrical entertainment, beginning with the vice inherent in its setting. The theater, rightly seen, is a shrine to Venus. Indeed, this type of building came into the world in the name of Venus. For originally, even the heathen censors were concerned to destroy theaters as quickly as they arose, foreseeing the serious moral damage that would result from the licentious spirit of the theater.… Because of this attitude, when Pompey the Great (only his theater was greater than he!) had constructed that citadel of every vice and was afraid that because of this his memory might one day suffer from official censure, he added on to his theatre a temple to Venus, and when he summoned the people to the dedication, he did not call the structure a theatre, but a temple “to which we have added,” he said, “some seating for shows.”

(Tertullian, Pagan Entertainments 1, 10)

Rome had received its first, permanent, stone theatre complete with a large, wide stage, or pulpitum, aulaeum, the curtain that rose out of the ground before the stage, and a towering decorative scaena frons which provided the backdrop for performances, complete with doorways for the plays, and niches with statues above. 

The Theatre of Pompey had it all!

According to the sources, the performances that were put on as part of the theatre’s dedication were Accius’ Clytemnestra, and Equos Troianus by either Andronicus or Naevius. It was a big event, such that the famous actor Clodius Aesopus was brought out of his retirement to perform in the opening show which was, of course, accompanied by gladiatorial matches with exotic animals. It was Rome, after all!

Digital Recreation of the temple of Venus Victrix at the top of the auditorium.

The Theatre of Pompey, however, was much more than a theatre, or a temple for that matter. It was an entertainment and administrative complex where the elite of Rome could meet, and where citizens could gather. It was something of an oasis in the city of Rome. Even poets praised its beauty…

Why, Cynthia, do you flee the city for smaller towns nearby?

I suppose the Portico of Pompey, with its columns of shade

And tapestries of threaded gold, seems squalid to you,

With its solid rows of plane trees shaped to an even height,

The streams of flowing water that slide off the Slumbering Satyr,

And the liquid sounds of splashing around the entire basin

When Triton suddenly blows the water from his mouth.

(Propertius, Elegies 2.32.11-16)

Connected to the theatre was a large area known as the quadriporticus which comprised an enormous area of groomed gardens with magnificent statues and fountains surrounded by columned porticoes.

Architectural plan of the theatre and quadriporticus of the complex.

Outside the far end of the quadriporticus, opposite the theatre, another temple complex was incorporated. This sacred area included more ancient temples to Juturna (A – 241 B.C.), the Aedes Fortunae (B – 101 B.C.), Feronia (C – 4th century B.C.), and the Lares Permarini (D – 2nd century B.C.).

As was often the case in ancient Rome, religious belief was a part of the everyday, including theatre.

Republican-era temples in the sacred area at the far end of the quadriporticus. (Wikimedia Commons)

As we mentioned, Pompey’s wonderful theatre complex was much more than an entertainment and social venue. It was also an administrative centre.

In fact, included in the complex of the quadriporticus was the Curia of Pompey. This meeting space was sometimes used as a place for the Senate of Rome to meet.

This is exactly what was happening on March 15th, 44 B.C.

Because of work being done on the Senate house in the Forum Romanum, the Senate of Rome was meeting in the Curia of Pompey. It was a day that would shake the Roman world, and set off another bloody civil war.

As Julius Caesar arrived at the Curia of Pompey for the meeting of the Senate, he was surrounded by a conspiring group of Roman senators and murdered.

The Death of Caesar (Jean-Léon Gérôme, 1867)

The scene itself of Caesar’s death-struggle and assassination later made it clear to all that some spirit-power [daemon] had taken the event in hand to bring it about. For the meeting-site of the senate that day contained a statue of Caesar’s late rival Pompey, which Pompey himself had dedicated as one more ornament to his theater.…

(Plutarch, Caesar 66.1, 3-7)

The Ides of March were burned into the historical timeline from then on, and it happened at the temple and theatre complex built by Caesar’s one-time friend, son-in-law, and enemy, Pompey the Great.

The Theatre of Pompey had a long and storied history. It saw tragedy, comedy, beauty and bloody murder, and for forty years it was the only permanent theatre in Rome.

Eventually other theatres, such as the Theatre of Balbus (13 B.C.) were built around the Theatre of Pompey, seeking to enliven themselves by proximity to the latter’s splendour. This created a sort of theatre district in ancient Rome, and the Theatre of Pompey was at its heart.

Artist impressions of the cavea (auditorium) with the temple at the top, and of the pulpitum and scaena frons (the stage and stage house).

The building of the Theatre of Pompey in ancient Rome was a turning point in theatre history, for it gave wider acceptance to theatrical performance, as well as a permanent home.

Theatrical groups from across the Roman world, including our fictional Etrurian Players, saw performing in that great place as the pinnacle of their careers, similar to artists getting to perform in places such as La Scala, Royal Albert Hall, or Carnegie Hall today.

The Theatre of Pompey also gave theatre complexes a much broader role in society which not only included that of a religious centre and entertainment venue, but also as an administrative centre, and an attractive public space. The latter is certainly something that is still holds true to this day in modern theatre settings.

The Tom Patterson Theatre in Stratford, Ontario carries on the tradition of a theatre that is also a public space and gardens in an urban setting.

In Sincerity is a Goddess, as one of the major settings, the Theatre of Pompey plays a crucial role in the story and in the lives of the players who are destined to perform there.

As in fact and fiction, there is history in that place, and it is keenly felt by all.

Thank you for reading.

Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in hardcover, paperback, and ebook from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.

CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s information for the edition of your choice.

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The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part VI – Epidaurus: Place of Dreams and Healing

Happy New Year, and welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we are taking a look at some of the research that went into our latest novel set in ancient Rome.

If you missed Part V on prostitution in ancient Rome, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.

In Part VI, we’re going to be exploring one of the most important theatrical and healing sites from the ancient world: Epidaurus.

We hope you find it interesting…

Theatre of Epidaurus (photo: Dimitrios Pallis, IG @pallisd)

You may be wondering what a blog post about an ancient Greek theatre and sanctuary has to do with a story set in ancient Rome.

Well, let me tell you, it has a lot to do with it. Not only was the healing sanctuary at ancient Epidaurus well-known in the Roman world, but the great theatre there also plays an important role in Sincerity is a Goddess. However, not in the way you might think.

Don’t worry though, for there are no spoilers if you haven’t read the book yet.

In this post, we’re going to be taking a brief look at the two faces of ancient Epidaurus – the theatre itself, and the sanctuary of Asklepios which was renowned across the ancient world for its healing…and snakes!

Let’s get into it!

Plan of the Theatre of Epidaurus

Firstly, as Epidaurus is, today, famous for its well preserved odeon, and as Sincerity is a Goddess is partially a story about a theatre troupe, we’ll start with the theatre itself.

I’ve been to this site several times in the past, and I never tire of it. Some places are like that, I suppose. You can visit them again and again, and each time you do you get a different perspective that adds to your overall impression of the site.

The theatre of Epidaurus is like that.

For the history-lover in me, going there is like visiting a wise old friend. We greet each other, sit back in the sunshine, reminisce, and contemplate the world before us.

There is something comforting about going back to familiar places.

When you enter the archaeological site from the ticket booths and follow the path, you find the museum on your left, its wall lined with marble blocks covered in votive inscriptions from the sanctuary of Asklepios (more on that shortly). 

I don’t know why, but every time we visit Epidaurus, I’m always drawn to the theatre first. Perhaps it is more familiar, simpler than the archaeological site of the sanctuary opposite? You walk up the steep stone steps beneath scented pine trees and then, there it is!

The theatre lies in the blinding sunlight all limestone and marble, rising up in perfect symmetry before you with the mountains beyond.

It’s always a shock to stand there and see it for the first time, this perfect titan, an ancient stage beneath a clear blue sky where the works of Euripides, Aeschylus, Aristophanes, Sophocles and so many more have entertained the masses and provoked thought in the minds of mortals for well over two thousand years. 

In ancient times, one’s view from this vantage would have been partially blocked by the stage building, or scaena, but as it is today, you have a perfect view over the ruins of that building’s foundations.

Side entrance to the orchestra

The Epidaurians have a theatre within the sanctuary, in my opinion very well worth seeing. For while the Roman theatres are far superior to those anywhere else in their splendour, and the Arcadian theatre at Megalopolis is unequalled for size, what architect could seriously rival Polycleitus in symmetry and beauty? For it was Polycleitus who built both this theatre and the circular building. 

(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.27.5)

The theatre of Epidaurus is considered the best-constructed and most elegant theatre of the ancient world. It was built in the 4th century B.C by the sculptor and architect, Polykleitos the Younger, who also designed the tholos in the sanctuary nearby. 

The theatre sat 14,000 spectators, and every one of them could see the stage and hear every momentous word that was spoken. 

As people are wont to do when visiting this theatre, I’ve stood at the centre of the stage (the orchestra), and dropped a coin so that my family and friends could hear it where they sat at the top row.

Then I speak…

It is a surreal, dreamlike experience to do so, from that orchestra, for your voice is so loud in your ears, you can’t quite grasp what is happening at first. It feels like you are speaking into a microphone, your voice amplified. But there are, of course, no electronics, just an ancient perfection of design that has set the standard for ages. 

You don’t want to tumble down this aisle!

I always climb the long central isle to the top row and sit down to take it all in. It’s a long way up, but the top provides the perfect vantage point of the sanctuary and landscape surrounding Epidaurus. I love to just sit there and listen to the cicadas, take in the view, and enjoy the dry, pine-scented air. 

I’ve had the privilege of seeing Gerard Dépardieu perform in Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex, and Isabella Rossellini in an adaptation of Stravinsky’s Persephone in the theatre of Epidaurus. It was amazing to watch such wonderful actors giving a performance there, and it was obvious too that they were enjoying the space, the tradition they were taking part in. 

The last play I saw at Epidaurus was a performance of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata, a comedy in which the women of Greece withhold sex from all the men in order to put an end to the Peloponnesian War.

Isabella Rossellini in ‘Persephone’

When you see a play at Epidaurus, the audience is also participating in an ancient tradition. How many people have gone before us, sat in those seats, laughed and wept at the drama being played out before them?

It’s difficult not to think about that when you sit in the seats of Epidaurus. Whether you are basking in the hot rays of the Mediterranean sun, or waiting for a play to begin as the sun goes down and the stars appear, Centaurus and Cygnus twinkling in the sky above, one thing is certain – you will never forget the moments that you spend there.

Next, we’re going to venture away from the theatre for a brief visit to the museum, and then on into the peace and quiet of the Sanctuary of Asklepios, a place of miracles and ancient healing that was famous across the Greek and Roman worlds.

Looking north from the theatre to the sanctuary

When you enter the abode of the god

Which smells of incense, you must be pure

And thought is pure when you think with piety

This is the inscription that greeted pilgrims who passed through the propylaia, the main gate to the north, into the sanctuary of the god, Asklepios, at ancient Epidaurus.

The ancient writer, Pausanias, gives us some interesting insights…

The sacred grove of Asclepius is surrounded on all sides by boundary marks. No death or birth takes place within the enclosure. The same custom prevails also in the island of Delos. All the offerings, whether the offerer be one of the Epidaurians themselves or a stranger, are entirely consumed within the bounds. 

(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.27.1) 

After the glory of the ancient theatre, it feels like something of a contrast to step into the quiet realm of the sanctuary of the God of Healing. This was a place that was famous around the ancient world for the miracles of health and healing that occurred there.

But perhaps the contrast is not so great? After all, Asklepios was the son of Apollo – an interesting union of healing and art – and it could be argued that the experiences one had in the theatre and the sanctuary were both transformative and healing.

Toward the back of the sanctuary there is a small, but wonderful, site museum that is well worth a visit for the collection of architectural and everyday artifacts. 

The vestibule contains cabinets filled with oil lamps, containers and phials that were used for medicines and ointments within the sanctuary, as well as surgical implements and votive offerings.

Medical Instruments in the Epidaurus museum

Above the cabinets and into the main room of the museum, there are reliefs and cornices from the temple of Asklepios decorated with lion heads, acanthus and meander designs, many of which still have the original paint on them.

However, in the first part of the museum are some plain-looking stele that are covered in inscriptions recording the remedies given at Epidaurus, and the miracles of healing at the sanctuary in ancient times. These inscriptions are where much of our knowledge of the sanctuary comes from.

Stele with accounts of healing at the sanctuary, as well as quotes of the Hymn to Apollo

In the main part of the museum, your eyes are drawn, once more, to the magnificent remains of the tholos and the temple of Asklepios – ornate Corinthian capitals, cornices decorated with lion heads, and the elaborately-carved roof sections of the temple’s cella, the inner sanctum. 

There are statues of Athena and Asklepios that had adorned various parts of the sanctuary, and the winged Nikes that stood high above pilgrims, gazing out from the corners of the roof of the temple of Artemis, the second largest temple of the sanctuary.

The Museum Interior

I wonder if people walking through the museum realize how beautiful the statues are, the meaning they held for those who came to the sanctuary in search of help?

After one cools off in the museum, it’s time to head for the sanctuary of Asklepios just north of the museum and theatre.

Every time I’ve visited, the sanctuary itself is usually completely empty.

It seems that most visitors head for the theatre alone, some to the museum afterward, but most do not want to tough it out among the ruins of one of the most famous sanctuaries in the ancient world.

The Sanctuary of Asklepios from the North

The Sanctuary of Asklepios lies on the Argolid plain, with Mt. Arachnaio and Mr. Titthion to the north. The former was said to have been a home of Zeus and Hera, and the latter, whose gentle slopes lead down to the plain, was said to have been where Asklepios was born.

To the south of the sanctuary is Mt. Kynortion, where there was a shrine to Apollo, Asklepios’ father. Farther to the south are the wooded slopes of Mt. Koryphaia, where the goddess Artemis is said to have wandered. 

This is a land of myth and legend, a world of peace and healing, green and mild, dotted with springs. The sanctuary was actually called ‘the sacred grove’.

Asklepios, as a god of healing, was worshiped at Epidaurus from the 5th century B.C. to the 4th century A.D. According to archaeologist Angeliki Charitsonidou, it was the sick who turned to Asklepios, people who had lost all hope of recovery – the blind, the lame, the paralyzed, the dumb, the wounded, the sterile – all of them wanting a miracle.

Asklepios

But who was Asklepios?

Some believed he learned medicine from the famous centaur, Cheiron, in Thessaly. Another tale from the Homeric age makes Asklepios a mortal man, a king of Thessaly, whose sons Machaon and Podaleirios fought in the Trojan War and learned medicine from their father.

Eventually, it came to be believed that Asklepios was a demigod, born of a union between Apollo and a mortal woman. His father was also a god of healing, and prophecy and healing, in the ancient world, went hand-in-hand. The snake was a prophetic creature, and a creature of healing, so it is no wonder this animal came to be associated with Asklepios and medicine.

At Epidaurus, snakes were regarded as sacred, as a daemonic force used in healing at the sanctuary. These small, tame, blondish snakes were so revered that Roman emperors would send for them when in need. Once again, Pausanias gives us some insight:

The serpents, including a peculiar kind of a yellowish colour, are considered sacred to Asklepios, and are tame with men. These are peculiar to Epidauria, and I have noticed that other lands have their peculiar animals. For in Libya only are to be found land crocodiles at least two cubits long; from India alone are brought, among other creatures, parrots. But the big snakes that grow to more than thirty cubits, such as are found in India and in Libya, are said by the Epidaurians not to be serpents, but some other kind of creature. 

(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.28.1)

Now you know where this symbol comes from!

I’ll stick with the tame blond snakes, thank you very much!

The thing about Asklepios was that he was said to know the secret of death, that he had the ability to reverse it because he was born of his own mother’s death. Zeus, as king of the gods, believed that this went against the natural order, and so he killed Asklepios with a bolt of lightning.

There are no written records of medical interventions by the priests of Epidaurus in the early centuries of its existence. The healing that occurred was only through the appearance of the god himself. However, over time the priesthood of Epidaurus began to question patients about their ailments, and prescribe routines of healing or exercise that would carry out the instructions given to pilgrims by Asklepios in the all-important dreams, the enkoimesis, which they had in the abato of the sanctuary. 

It is quite a feeling to walk the grounds of the sanctuary at Epidaurus, to be in a place where people believed they had been touched or aided by a god, and actual miracles had occurred and were recorded. 

Faith and the Gods are a big part of ancient history, and cannot be separated from the everyday. I’ve always found that I get much more out of a site, a better connection, when I keep that in mind. You have to remove the goggles of hindsight and modern doubt to understand the ancient world and its people. 

From the museum you walk past the ruins of the hospice, or the ‘Great Lodge’, a massive square building that was 76 meters on each side, two-storied, and contained rooms around four courtyards. This is where later pilgrims and visitors to the sanctuary, and the games that were held in the stadium there, would stay.

Map of the Sanctuary (from the site guide book)

Without a map of what you are looking at, it’s difficult to pick out the various structures. Most of the remains are rubble with only the foundations visible. This sanctuary was packed with buildings, and apart from a few bath houses, a palaestra, a gymnasium, a Roman odeion, the stadium and a large stoa, there are some ruins that one is drawn to, notably the temples. 

The sanctuary of Asklepios has several temples the largest being dedicated to the God of Healing himself, within which there stood a large chryselephantine statue of Asklepios.

There were also temples to Artemis (the second largest on-site), Aphrodite, Themis, Apollo and Asklepios of Egypt (a Roman addition), and the Epidoteio which was a shrine to the divinities Hypnos (sleep), Oneiros (Dream), and Hygeia (Health). These latter divinities were key to the healing process at Epidaurus.

Ancient Epidaurus was a sacred escape where the mind, body, and soul could recuperate. It is a place of sunlight and heat, of fresh air and green trees set against a backdrop of mountains tinged with salt from the not-too-distant sea. Cicadas yammer on in a bucolic frenzy, and bees and butterflies wend their way among the fallen pieces of the ancient world as your feet crunch along on the gravel pathway, past the ruins of the palaestra, gymnasium, and odeion to an intersection in the sacred precinct of the sanctuary.

Reconstruction of the Temple of Asklepios’ south side (from site guide book)

Here you find the temple of Artemis to your right as you face the ruins of what was the magnificent temple of Asklepios to the north. You can see the foundations, the steps leading up. 

The image of Asklepios is, in size, half as big as the Olympian Zeus at Athens, and is made of ivory and gold. An inscription tells us that the artist was Thrasymedes, a Parian, son of Arignotus. The god is sitting on a seat grasping a staff; the other hand he is holding above the head of the serpent; there is also a figure of a dog lying by his side. On the seat are wrought in relief the exploits of Argive heroes, that of Bellerophon against the Chimaera, and Perseus, who has cut off the head of Medusa. 

(Pausanias, Description of Greece, Book 2.27.2)

It is interesting that in a place where dreams were part of healing, the images carved on the seat of Asklepios portray some of the greatest heroes fighting and defeating their own ‘monsters’.

How many people in need had walked, limped or crawled up those steps seeking the god’s favour.

On your left you see a large, flat area of worn marble that was once the great altar of Apollo where pilgrims made blood sacrifices to Apollo and Asklepios in the form of oxen or cockerels, or bloodless offerings like fruit, flowers, or money.

Remains of the Great Altar of Apollo

Standing there, you can imagine the scene – smoke wafting out of the surrounding temples with the strong smell of incense, the slow drip of blood down the sides of the great altar, the tender laying of herbs and flowers upon the white marble, all in the hopes of healing. 

As people would have stood at the great altar, they would have seen one of the key structures of the sanctuary beyond it, just to the west – the tholos.

The tholos was a round temple that was believed to be the dwelling place of Asklepios himself. It was here that, after a ritual purification with water from the sanctuary, that pilgrims underwent some sort of religious ordeal underground in the narrow corridors of a labyrinth that lay beneath the floor of the tholos’ cella, the inner sanctum.

Reconstruction of Epidaurian Tholos and Temple of Asklepios (photo reconstruction: CNN)

After their ritual ordeal, pilgrims would be led to the abato, a long rectangular building to the north of the tholos and temple of Asklepios.

The abato is where pilgrims’ souls would be tested by way of the enkoimesis, a curative dream that they had while spending the night in the abato.

Miracles happened in this place, and there are over 70 recorded inscriptions that have survived which detail some of them – mute children suddenly being able to speak, sterile women conceiving after their visit to sanctuary, a boy covered in blemishes that went away after carrying out the treatment given to him by Asklepios in a dream. There are many such stories that have survived, and probably many that we do not know of. 

Inside the partially restored Abato

As you stand in the abato, careful not to step on any snakes that may be hiding along the base of the walls, it’s a time to reflect on the examples of healing on the posted placard. It seemed that the common thread to all the dreams that patients had was that Asklepios visited them in their dreams and, either touched them, or prescribed a treatment which subsequently worked. 

Relief of Asklepios healing a dreamer

Sleep. Dream. Health.

When I think of those divinities who were also worshiped at Epidaurus, right alongside Asklepios, it doesn’t seem so far-fetched. In fact, standing there, in that place of peace and tranquility, it seems highly likely.

The people mentioned on the votive inscriptions – those who left vases, bronzes, statues, altars, buildings and fountains as thank offerings to the god and his sanctuary for the help they received – those people were real, as real as you and me. They confronted sickness, disease, and worry, just as we do.

Today, some people turn to their chosen god for help when they are in despair. Others turn to the medical professionals whom they hope have the skill and compassion to cure them.

At ancient Epidaurus, people could get help from both gods and skilled healers, each one dependent on and respectful of the other.

This place haunts me in a way. I always think about how special this place is, how the voices of Epidaurus, its sanctuary, and its great theatre, will never die or fade.

Indeed, just as Asklepios was said to have done, this is a place that defies death and time.

Remains of Temple of Asklepios

It is indeed fitting that the theatre and sanctuary go together, for both are healing experiences, forcing the mortal attendees to look inward, to delve into the darker depths of their selves to observe their own trials and tribulations so that they can manage their healing. 

Theatre is a transformative experience, and so it and the healing sanctuary both deserve their places beside each other, as well they do in the pages of Sincerity is a Goddess.

Thank you for reading.

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