The Temple of Apollo Epicurius, Bassae, Greece

Although it was built during the 5th century BC, the Temple of Apollo Epicurius near Bassae in western Greece was virtually unknown until 1765 when a French architect happened upon it when he was in the area building villas – he had the misfortune to be murdered by bandits when he went back for a second look. 

The temple has features in common with those of the much more famous Parthenon at Athens, and they may even have been designed by the same architect. However, the Temple of Apollo Epicurius is much smaller, measuring around 38 by 14.5 metres, and it is in a remote location high up a mountain slope, which is why it was virtually lost for many centuries, with only a handful of references being made to it by ancient writers. 

The temple’s dedication to Apollo Epicurius – “Apollo the Healer” – was due to the gratitude of local people who escaped the worst ravages of a plague after praying and sacrificing to the god. 

The temple is notable for several features, not least the fact that it includes features of all three classical orders of architecture – Ionic, Doric and Corinthian. The outer columns (the peristyle) are Doric, the inner ones are Ionic, and there is a single Corinthian column at the centre. The capital of the Corinthian column (typified by the use of decorative stone acanthus leaves) is the earliest example of the order known to exist. 

Another unusual feature is the combined use of limestone and marble in the construction. 

The temple was originally decorated with 23 sculptured plates on the frieze of the Ionic interior, but these were removed in 1812 by British antiquaries. These plates soon found their way to the British Museum in London, where they remain to this day, not far from where the much better-known Parthenon frieze is housed (the “Elgin Marbles”). The frieze depicted battles between Greeks and Centaurs and between Greeks and Amazons. 

There has been considerable argument about whether the Parthenon frieze should be returned to Greece, but maybe the Bassae frieze has a better claim to be taken back to its original home? For one thing, it might be possible to return the plates to their exact original position, which is out of the question in the case of the Parthenon frieze due in part to the destructive influence of pollution in Greece’s capital city. 

On the other hand, the remote location of the Temple of Apollo Epicurius, which is well off the normal tourist trail, means that far fewer people would be able to see the frieze were it to be returned than is now possible in the British Museum. 

The Temple of Apollo Epicurius was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1986.

© John Welford

Izanagi, Izanami and the birth of Japan

Every ancient civilization has its own creation myth – its story about how the world and its own people started out. Given that they are all myths, with absolutely no relation to reality, no one myth can claim precedence over any other.

This is the mythical story about how the island nation of Japan came to be.

In the beginning, there was nothing except sea and sky. A reed grew out of the sea and turned into a cloud, this being the first god. Other reeds then sprouted and became cloud-gods.

The youngest gods were a male named Izanagi No Mikoto and a female named Izanami No Mikoto. 

Izanagi saw no point in just floating above the sea and wondered if he could find something solid to stand on. He plunged his spear into the sea, searching for a point of contact, but was out of luck. However, when he withdrew his spear a drop of water fell back and turned into an island.

Izanagi and Izanami used a rainbow to descend to the island, which they decorated with trees and flowers. When Izanagi thrust his spear into the centre of the island a large palace was created.

The two young gods then decided that they could create more islands. They were inspired by the mating dance of two small birds and realized that they needed to do something along the same lines. 

Their dance consisted of walking round the island in opposite directions until they met again.

Izanami spoke first. “Good day”, she said. “You are a very handsome young man.”

Izanagi replied in similar vein. “Good day”, he said. “You are a very beautiful young woman.”

This was enough to cause Izanami to fall pregnant, and she duly gave birth to her first island child. However, this was nothing like as beautiful and fertile as the original island and the couple had no choice but to push it away into the sea. They sought advice from the older gods as to why things had gone wrong.

“You made a fundamental mistake”, they were told. “You allowed the woman to speak before the man did. Unless the man speaks first, there will always be bad luck”.

So Izanagi and Izanami went through their courtship dance again. This time, when they met after walking round the island in opposite directions, Izanagi spoke first.

“Good day”, he said. “You are a very beautiful young woman.”

Izanami replied. “Good day”, she said. “You are a very handsome young man.”

This time, when Izanami gave birth, she became the mother of eight beautiful islands, which formed the country of Japan.

There is more to the Japanese creation myth than this, involving the births of other gods, the sun and the moon, and the emperors of Japan. However, this story of the creation of Japan does contain one very interesting factor that can be seen in other creation myths including that of Judaism as found in the Book of Genesis. This is the god-given dominance of the male over the female. One can only assume that these myths were first invented by men, not women!

© John Welford

Carthage: Challenger to Rome

There was a time when it was a toss-up as to which burgeoning empire would dominate the shores of the Mediterranean – that of Rome or Carthage. The latter had a head start, being the one of the largest and most long-lived ancient empires before Rome really got going.

Carthage, a port on the coast of what is now Tunisia in North Africa, had the advantage of two excellent harbours and superb shipbuilding and sailing skills that gave the city-state dominance over the whole African coast from Morocco to the border with Egypt, plus most of the islands of the western Mediterranean.

This dominance began in the 6th century BC and was aided by victories over the Greek empire during conflicts that lasted for around 200 years. However, the struggles with Rome turned out to be more difficult from Carthage’s point of view. The Punic Wars between Rome and Carthage happened in three phases between 264 and 146 BC, the final date marking the eventual triumph of Rome.

When Carthage fell, the population was sold into slavery and the city razed to the ground. Carthage therefore ceased to exist.

However, in the first century AD Emperor Augustus founded the city of Colonia Julia Carthago on the ruins of ancient Carthage, and the new city became extremely prosperous and wealthy, just as the old one had done.

The new Carthage fell victim firstly to the Vandals in 439 and then the Arabs in 637, after which it was once again destroyed. It is the ruins of this second city that can be seen today.

There would never be a third Carthage and no need for one after the emergence of the city of Tunis not far away.

The site of ancient Carthage, where ruins including those of the Antonine Baths can be seen, has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1979.

© John Welford

A dinner with Attila the Hun

Priscus, a 5^th century Romano-Greek diplomat, wrote an account of meeting Attila the Hun that conveys a different impression from the generally accepted view of a bloodthirsty tyrant who brought the Roman Empire to its knees. 

Priscus and Attila

The name Attila the Hun usually conjures up an image of a savage barbarian from central Europe who swept across the Roman Empire during its dying days, leaving death and destruction in his wake. It certainly suited Roman commentators to paint him in the worst possible light, given that he posed a credible threat to the civilised way of life that high-born Romans were used to, but were the unflattering accounts of Attila justified?

One account that gave a somewhat different impression of Attila was that of Priscus, a Greek who lived in the Eastern Roman Empire during the 5^th century (his dates are uncertain, but were probably around 415-475 AD). He was a diplomat, a historian and a philosopher. In the year 448 he and another diplomat, Maximin, were sent by Emperor Theodosius II, based in Constantinople, to negotiate with Attila at his palace in Scythia (present-day Hungary). It appears that Maximin did most of the talking, leaving Priscus free to satisfy his curiosity about this race of people called the Huns who were causing so much trouble to Rome.

Priscus was clearly prepared to be open-minded, despite the evidence that Attila could be a brutal tyrant. He had, for example, had a gold dealer called Constantius crucified in a dispute over a consignment of gold dishes. He was now making similar threats against a dealer in silver plate, and this was one of the reasons for the attempt at diplomacy by Maximin and Priscus.

Attila, who came from nomadic stock, was used to moving around and did not stay long in one place, being the owner of many houses scattered throughout his empire. When Maximin and Priscus arrived in Scythian territory they learned that Attila had moved north, so they had no choice but to follow in his footsteps. When they reached the palace where he was they were surprised to be warmly received and were invited to join Attila and his family for dinner.

Dinner with Attila

Priscus wrote of his surprise at the accommodation that Attila enjoyed. The palace was more like a villa than a castle, and the wooden enclosure that surrounded it was “not so much for protection as for the sake of appearance”. 

The dinner was not being held in honour of the Roman delegation, but they were welcomed and treated with every politeness, although placed at the second level of precedence among the guests. 

Attila reclined on a couch at the head of the room, with family members and guests arrayed on either side. He dressed simply and without wearing any sort of adornment, unlike some of the Scythians who proudly displayed their gold and gems.

The various courses were served according to a fixed ritual, with wine being drunk in the form of toasts to Attila and by Attila to his guests, again according to an order of precedence.

Priscus noted that the guests had silver plates and golden goblets, but Attila only ate and drank from wooden plates and cups. Likewise, although the food on offer was both plentiful and varied, Attila ate nothing but meat. 

After the meal was over there was entertainment in the form of songs and a comic act at which the Scythian guests laughed uproariously but which did not produce as much as a smile on the face of Attila. However, when his youngest son came into the room and sat next to his father, Attila paid him considerable attention and was clearly pleased to have him there.

An open-minded account

A modern reader might get the impression from this account that Attila was cold and emotionless, and therefore somewhat sinister. This does not appear to be how Priscus regarded him, in that his behaviour at the banquet was precisely what might be expected from a refined and high-born Roman or Greek. Priscus was clearly impressed by Attila’s modesty and restraint, which he was happy to record for the benefit of people back home who had previously preferred to believe other accounts.

It is always possible that the behaviour observed by Priscus was the result of Attila deliberately trying to copy Roman customs and manners. He was aware that the Roman Empire, even at this late stage, represented the highest ideals of civilized living and he sought to model his life on the standards that he had observed. Whatever the reason for Attila’s cultured and mannered treatment of his guests, he succeeded in impressing Priscus, whose account is admiring without being overblown. That said, Priscus was never in any doubt that Attila was a dangerous man with ambitions that did not bode well for the future of what was left of the Roman Empire.

© John Welford

Kniva, King of the Goths

Kniva was a King of the Goths during the 3^rd century AD who led his people in an invasion of the Roman Empire and had considerable success while so doing.

In 249 he led a massive force of warriors that appeared at the River Danube frontier of the Empire. One column of men ravaged the province of Dacia while Kniva led another into Moesia. He split this force into two, one of which laid siege to Philippopolis and the other, 70,000 strong, assaulted the legionary fortress and town of Novae in what is now northern Bulgaria.

The Roman general Trebonianus Gallus (who later became Emperor) was able to deflect this assault, which persuaded Kniva to try his luck elsewhere. He therefore turned his attention to Nicopolis, which was further south. This move attracted the attention of Emperor Decius who, accompanied by his son Herennius, promptly led an army towards the Danube. Kniva’s force suffered a resounding defeat at Nicopolis and he had no choice but to retreat over the Haemus Mountains and seek to rejoin his troops at Philippopolis.

Kniva was then able to turn the tables on Decius by launching a surprise attack at the small town of Beroca on the edge of the Haemus Mountains. The Roman legions fled in disarray and Kniva was able to press on towards Philippopolis.

Kniva was now helped by the Roman governor of Thrace, T Julius Priscus, who had imperial ambitions of his own and thought he saw a way of getting the better of Decius. However, his assistance to Kniva in the capture of Philippopolis was not rewarded – he was among the thousands of victims of the bloodbath that ensued as Kniva pillaged the cities of Thrace.

By the spring of 251 Decius was ready to launch a further campaign against Kniva. Things went well at first for the Romans, but Kniva set a trap for Decius at Abrittus, midway between the Danube and the Black Sea, in June 251. The ensuing battle was a total victory for the Goths and both Decius and his son were killed.

Kniva was now able to negotiate terms with the new emperor, Trebonianus Gallus, that were highly favourable to the Goths. They were now firmly established in the Black Sea provinces and were able, in 253, to demand more payments of tribute to prevent them from making further intrusions into the empire.

The eventual fate of Kniva has never been made clear, although one can probably assume that he ended his days comfortably enough after leading his people into a corner of the Roman Empire from which they would be hard to shift. 

© John Welford

Theodosius II, Emperor of Rome

Theodosius II, who ruled the Eastern Roman Empire, did so for 42 years, which made him the longest ruling emperor throughout the Empire’s history.

Theodosius was born in April 401, the son of Emperor Arcadius and his formidable wife Aelia Eudoxia, who had been the real power behind the throne and had even had herself declared Augusta.

However, Eudoxia died from a miscarriage when Theodosius was aged only three and his father died in 408, meaning that parentless Theodosius became emperor at the age of seven. This might have been thought a recipe for chaos but that was not to be, thanks to efforts of Anthemius, the Praetorian Prefect, who proved to be an extremely able administrator.

One of Anthemius’s lasting contributions was to strengthen the defences of Constantinople by building a substantial wall across the peninsula on which the city was built. This wall served to protect Constantinople from invasion for the next 800 years and portions of it have survived to the present day.

Theodosius had an older sister, Aelia Pulcheria, who was proclaimed regent in 414, despite being only 15 years old, and she promptly had Anthemius replaced due to her personal dislike of him.

Pulcheria refused to marry but became intensely religious. It was due to her that the Church adopted the cult of the Virgin Mary, but she was also responsible for anti-semitic acts such as the burning of synagogues. Her influence on her brother meant that the empire and the Church became inextricably linked.

Theodosius married Aelia Eudocia in 421, she being Pulcheria’s choice for his bride, but the two strong-willed women soon became rivals. The palace intrigues were encouraged by the ambitious eunuch and chamberlain Chrysaphius Zstommas, with the result that Pulcheria was forced to retire from public life, leaving Eudocia as the main influence on Theodosius.

However, Zstommas’s attention then turned towards Eudocia, who was eventually forced into exile in 441 after a charge of adultery was brought against her. She ended her days in Jerusalem. Zstommas was now the most powerful adviser at court.

But what of Theodosius himself, who seems to have taken a back seat in the affairs of state? The truth is that he much prefered to deal with matters of the intellect, such as founding a university in Constantinople and codifying the laws. The latter effort led to the Codex Theodosianus, completed in 438, comprising 16 books of decrees and enactments that preserved the nature of Roman law.

Theodosius did have to deal with foreign affairs eventually, for example by negotiating a peace treaty with the Persian Empire that stayed in effect for more than a century. He was less successful when keeping the Huns at bay, with the initial policy – promoted by Zstommas – being to buy them off with huge subsidies that nearly bankrupted the treasury. Towards the end of Theodosius’s reign much of the Danube region was ravaged by barbarians, led by the formidable Attila.

Relations between the two halves of the empire improved with the placing of Valentinian III (son of Honorius) on the western throne in 425. Theodosius travelled to Ravenna to crown Valentinian and in 437 he gave his daughter Licinia Eudoxia to Valentinian as his wife.

Zstommas`s failed policy of buying off the Huns at vast expense led to a revolt by the army generals, who overthrew him early in 450, with Pulcheria returning to a position of power.

Theodosius died in July 450 after falling from his horse. He had already stated that a general named Marcian was his preferred heir and, in order to retain her position, Pulcheria promptly married him while still maintaining her vow of chastity. 

© John Welford

Romulus and Remus: mythical founders of Rome

Nobody knows how Rome was founded, but that does not mean that later Romans were unable to come up with a good story. The myth of Romulus and Remus was the result.

Coming up with a good myth

The first Roman historians had very little to go on when delving back into the earliest times to come up with a credible account of how Rome began. There were no written records, and even folk memories, passed down through the generations, did not go back far enough. Instead, a myth had to be invented that would ally Rome’s origins with the Gods. A great city had to have a miraculous birth.

Various legends grew up over time, but the story that was later accepted as the “true” myth is along these lines:

The story of Romulus and Remus

Numitor and Amulius were the sons of the king of Alba Longa, in central Italy, who traced their lineage from Aeneas of Troy. Amulius usurped the throne from his elder brother, killed Numitor’s son and made his daughter, Silvia, a vestal virgin. However, Silvia was violated by the god Mars and gave birth to twin sons, whom Amulius caused to be set adrift in a cradle on the River Tiber. This part of the legend therefore bears a distinct resemblance to that of Moses in the Hebrew story.

As with Moses, the baby twins did not drown but were rescued, not by a king’s daughter but a she-wolf who carried the boys back to her den and suckled them. They were found by a shepherd who took them to his home on the Palatine Hill, where they grew up to be strong young men, named Romulus and Remus.

The shepherds quarrelled with the cattle herdsmen who belonged to Numitor, whose herds grazed the nearby Aventine Hill. Remus was captured, and when Romulus went to rescue him they discovered that Numitor was their grandfather. They killed Amulius and put Numitor on the throne of Alba Longa.

Romulus and Remus decided to found a new city in the area where they had grown up, but they quarrelled as to where it should be, Romulus wanting it to be on the Palatine Hill and Remus on the Aventine. The decision was to be made by augury, in other words according to signs from the gods. As is often the case in these matters, they disagreed as to what the signs meant, and the shepherds made the decision on their behalf, giving the preference to Romulus.

Romulus started to build his city wall, but Remus, who still resented the fact that the new city would be “Roma” instead of, presumably, “Rema”, jumped over the wall before it was finished and was killed by his brother.

The myth of the Sabine women

Romulus’s new city needed more people, so he built a sanctuary on the nearby Capitoline Hill for criminals and runaway slaves, who promptly flocked there. The problem now was that there were plenty of men but hardly any women. Romulus tried peaceful means at first to persuade neighbouring cities to allow some of their women to join the new Rome, but to no avail. He therefore invited the local Latins and Sabines to a festival and, when they arrived, the Romans seized all the young women and carried them off.

Not surprisingly, this led to war, with the Romans defeating the forces of the three Latin towns, but the Sabines proved to be a sterner test. As the battle reached stalemate, thirty Sabine women rushed between the two armies and urged them to stop fighting. The two peoples agreed to form one nation, with Romulus continuing to rule on the Palatine Hill and the Sabine king on the Capitoline and Quirinal Hills. The two kings and their senates met on the plain between the hills to discuss matters as they arose.

However, when the Sabine king was killed in a quarrel that did not involve Romulus, the latter took over as sole ruler, being undisputed king for the next 37 years, after which he was carried off by Mars in a fiery chariot. Or so the story goes!

So there we have it!

Legends are very good at explaining how things started, and later Roman storytellers used the myth of Romulus to give ancient justification to, for example, the organisation of the Roman army into legions. Romulus is said to have divided the people into three tribes, each divided into ten curiae. These thirty divisions were named after the thirty Sabine women who brought peace to the community. Each curia contained ten gentes, each of 100 men who fought on foot. This all added up to 3000 soldiers, or one legion.

Likewise, the institution of the Senate was attributed to Romulus’s choice of 100 elders to help him in governing the city, this number being raised to 200 when the Sabines were incorporated.

There is of course absolutely no proof that Romulus and Remus ever existed, with the first mentions in writing dating from hundreds of years after they were supposed to have lived. The traditional foundation date of 753 BC is also pure invention. There were other foundation stories at various times, such as one involving a character called Romus who was the son of Aeneas. There is archaeological evidence that suggests that Rome was first settled by the Etruscans rather than as a colony from Alba Longa.

It is therefore difficult to ascribe the beginnings of Roman civilization to Romulus and Remus. However, the legend, such as it is, and with elements that have distinct resemblances to myths from other civilizations, particularly ancient Greece, is romantic enough to stand the test of time. The image of the she-wolf suckling the twins has proved to be a lasting one, being reproduced in many works of art down the centuries.

© John Welford