The Tribune of the Plebs was a Roman magistracy created during a time of social crisis, meant to protect the lower classes of Roman society (plebeians) from the abuse and coercion of the elites. The support of the plebiscite made this official sacrosanct, meaning he could not be harmed. He could intercede with other magistrates on behalf of individual citizens, or intercede more broadly with the power to veto the acts of any other magistrate, including the consuls. This power, originally intended to act as a defense against the elite, became a tool for ambitious politicians to push through popular reform. From its inception to the adoption of tribunician power by Augustus, the tribunate was a volatile political position that shaped Roman politics.

The Strike That Created the Tribunate

Following the fall of the Roman kings and the rise of the Republic in the early 5th century BC, Rome was embroiled in a series of internal and external conflicts. Wars with their Italian neighbors were frequent, while at home there was unrest between the patrician class, noble families that dominated the magistracies and Senate, and the plebeians, a broader class of citizens that could be considered the “working” class.

Debt among the plebeians was rampant, with many being forced into debt bondage. The dire situation was best exemplified by a passage from Livy’s “History of Rome,” where he described a former centurion who served in a recent war. During that war, his farms were burned and ravaged, leaving him unable to pay the war tax. On his return home, he was forced to sell his farms and his possessions, and finally, his person was taken as compensation.

The plebeians demanded that the Senate compensate them fairly for their services in the recent wars and in building Rome. After several wars and unfulfilled promises, the plebeians revolted. In what can be considered a large general strike, the plebeians seceded from Rome to the Sacred Mount on the other side of the Anio River. This walkout came to be known as the First Secession of the Plebs, and lasted for several days.

The leverage they had was immense. Without them, wars could not be fought, and the city ceased to function. Those plebeians who never left the city worried that the Senate would retaliate against them. Meanwhile, the Senators feared an attack from the plebeians and were not sure whether to have them stay or leave.

Fearful of what it would mean if a foreign war broke out while they were experiencing such internal turmoil, the Senate decided to reconcile with the plebeians and sent an envoy to negotiate with them. The result was the creation of a new magistracy, which could only be held by a member of the plebeian class, meant to represent the plebeian interest and to protect them against the patrician class. This was the tribunus plebis, or Tribune of the Plebs.

The Sacrosanct Tribune of the Plebs

As mentioned above, the tribunes were sacrosanct, yet what did this mean in practice? According to sources, the sacrosanctity of the tribune was based on an oath sworn by the plebeians to protect their representative, and a law called the lex sacrata, which imposed sacral sanctions against those who violated the tribunes’ person or attempted to coerce them. This meant that tribunes were both religiously and legally protected. The punishment for laying hands on a Tribune of the Plebs was to be declared sacer, meaning accursed, which excused that person from normal legal protections. Ancient sources have described this as meaning others could inflict violence on the person without punishment.

There is scholarly debate over whether, at its inception, the tribunate was an officially recognized magistracy or an extralegal representative of the plebeian class that was only later recognized.

The tribune’s sacrosanctity underpinned the power of intercessio, or the power to intercede in official acts and proceedings. Interceding on behalf of a private individual was a form of intercessio called ius auxilii, meaning the right of aid, usually in response to an appeal. Before the creation of the tribunes, people made appeals to the community when magistrates were arresting them or physically punishing them. After the creation of the tribunes, traditional appeals to the public became synonymous with appealing to the tribune.

To always be available to offer this aid, tribunes generally stayed within the city. During the Republic, the Tribune of the Plebs had an office near the forum and the Senate house, which was open to anyone during the day. The tribune’s home was also said to be always open, day and night, to anyone who sought refuge. This also clearly shows the limitation of the tribune’s power to intercede, which was that they needed to be physically present.

Veto as a Political Weapon

The term veto comes from the Latin vetare, or “to forbid,” and is the power to stop any legislation from moving forward. Consuls had the power to veto one another to act as a check on one man gaining too much power. To invoke it, they only needed to say veto, “I forbid.” While a veto could bring the government to a standstill, the point was to encourage negotiation and compromise, and to prevent unilateral action. The consuls’ veto power was based on their imperium, which was state authority to command individuals and armies. The tribune’s veto power, however, relied not on imperium but on their sacrosanctity.

Since the tribune was legally and religiously “untouchable,” any kind of physical coercion or attempting to override his intervention was a grave offense. A tribune’s intervention was therefore an immediate check. They needed to be present to halt proceedings or prevent legislation from being read. There are ancient anecdotes of tribunes snatching bills from heralds, or even holding someone’s mouth to prevent them from speaking, which exemplify the idea of physical intervention. The tribunes even used to stand outside the door of the Senate house to intervene immediately against proposals not in the interest of the plebeians. They were increasingly allowed to sit in on Senate proceedings, and eventually even to speak and introduce matters for discussion.

The Gracchi Brothers

The tribunate’s power was meant as a brake on the levers of government, but in the late Republic, it became a driving force. The Gracchi brothers, Tiberius and Gaius, were from a wealthy plebeian family and the grandsons of the famous general Scipio Africanus.

Tiberius Gracchus was the first of the brothers to become Tribune of the Plebs in 133 BC. At the time, small farms were being absorbed into the large estates of the senatorial class, leaving citizens destitute and putting a strain on the state’s military capabilities, since landed citizens served as soldiers. Tiberius attempted to solve this problem by passing a reform that would enforce limits on the occupation of public lands and redistribute the rest among the citizenry. He was opposed by another tribune, who vetoed the proposal. But Tiberius went to the assembly and maneuvered to have that tribune removed from office.

Tiberius threatened to use his power of intercessio to obstruct all public business until his reforms were passed. His opponents in the senate portrayed him as trying to establish a tyranny when he tried to get re-elected to the tribunate the following year, which was illegal. Tiberius was killed when violence broke out between his supporters and senatorial supporters. While Tiberius did succeed in passing his agrarian reform, he showed how a normally defensive magistracy could be mobilized into a proactive way to influence government.

The killing of Tiberius deeply affected his brother Gaius, who, according to later writers, wanted to continue his brother’s reforms. Gaius was elected as Tribune of the Plebs in 123 BC, and immediately began to use his position to push certain laws through the assembly. He used his sacrosanctity as a means of mobilizing public support for his reforms and hostility toward his political opponents. In his speeches, he regularly reminded the crowd of the respect Romans used to have for the tribunate. Plutarch cited him as saying that Rome once went to war because a tribune was insulted, and contrasted that with his brother’s murder and how none were held responsible. In this way, he framed opposition to himself as opposition to the people.

Gaius pushed through several reform bills, the most consequential of which curbed the power of the senators. Previously, they were the only ones who sat on juries in court, and he transferred jury service in key courts to the equestrian class. Gaius was illegally re-elected in 122 BC, allowing him to continue with his reforms. He passed new land and grain laws and even founded colonies. But his law that proved most divisive was providing additional rights to the Italian allies. This was strongly opposed by the senatorial class, who backed Gaius’ rivals to fracture his base of support. When he was not re-elected to the office of tribune in 121 BC, violence quickly broke out between his supporters and his opponents. Gaius was killed in a pursuit after the confrontation.

Tribunes and the Fall of the Republic

Tribunes played an important role in the dying days of the Roman Republic. For example, when Gaius Marius coveted Sulla’s leadership of the campaign against Mithridates in 88 BC, he used a friendly Tribune of the Plebs to strip Sulla of the command and have it reassigned to himself. When Sulla eventually won the political conflict and was made dictator of Rome in 81 BC, he limited the power of the tribune. He also passed a law stating that anyone who held the tribunate could not stand for further office. This made it a dead end for ambitious politicians.

The full power of the tribunes was restored in 70 BC, renewing its political potency. In an unusual move, a patrician named Publius Clodius Pulcher had himself adopted by a plebeian youth so that he could run for tribune, winning the office in 58 BC. He orchestrated Cicero’s exile from Rome. He also gained popular support by renewing collegiate organizations that had been banned in 64 BC and expanding the grain dole.

Gaius Scribonius Curio served as Tribune of the Plebs in 50 BC. While he was known to oppose the First Triumvirate, in an unexpected turn, he blocked proposed legislation to strip Caesar of his Gallic command before he returned to Rome, meaning that he would not be able to celebrate a triumph and could face treason trials. This eventually failed when the Senate declared Caesar an enemy of Rome, and the tribune joined Caesar’s army.

Augustus and the Powers of the Tribune

When the Republic fell and was replaced by Augustus as sole ruler, tribunician powers were part of the tapestry of Republican powers he used to formulate his unprecedented position. Initially, he used tribunician powers during the years of the Second Triumvirate, providing him with an air of popular legitimacy.

In the year 23 BC, almost a decade after the civil war against Mark Antony and Cleopatra, Augustus declined to hold the yearly office of consul, being granted maius imperium over Rome’s armies in its place. He was also granted tribunician powers for life without needing to hold the office. Through the tribune’s power of intercessio, he was able to intervene in and block state measures, plus propose laws. This, combined with other honors granted by the Senate, gave Augustus the first and last say on all matters of state.

Beginning as a shield against the abuse and coercion by the patrician class, the Tribune of the Plebs was imbued with extraordinary powers unlike any other Roman magistrate. Their sacrosanctity was the pillar of their political power, allowing them to defend the people and veto actions not in their interest. The Gracchi brothers used this power proactively, forcing legislative reforms through persuasion of the populace and obstruction of other magistracies. Augustus was eventually awarded tribunician powers, including sacrosanctity, giving him an air of popular support, plus religious and civil authority that allowed him to secure his position as Rome’s first emperor, setting a precedent for centuries to come.

In the spring of 193 AD, ancient Rome was engulfed in political chaos. The new emperor, Didius Julianus, had only a tenuous hold on the power he had purchased from the Praetorians. He was not universally accepted, and across the Empire, rival claimants emerged in the infamous “Year of the Five Emperors.” In the distant west, Clodius Albinus, an aristocratic Roman from North Africa, was serving as governor of Britain. He decided that he might also have a chance to rule Rome, and he came close to succeeding.

African Origins: Who Was Clodius Albinus?

In around 150 AD, Decimus Clodius Albinus was born in the North African city of Colonia Concordia Ulpia Trajana Augusta Frugifera Hadrumetina. Originally a Phoenician city founded in the 9th century BC, Hadrumetina was made a Roman colony by Emperor Trajan in the early 2nd century AD. Previously, it had a long history with Rome. During the Second Punic War, the city provided shelter to Carthaginian soldiers who had been defeated in the Battle of Zama in 202 BC. In the Third Punic War, the Hadrumetine government sided with the Romans.

Carthage’s destruction in 146 BC allowed Hadrumetum to grow in size and stature in North Africa, even minting its own bronze coinage for a time. Due to its fertile hinterland, the city continued to grow wealthier as an important node in the Empire’s grain supply. Although it is a notoriously unreliable source, the Historia Augusta describes Clodius as coming from an aristocratic family in Hadrumetum, which could trace its descent back to Roman nobility. Allegedly, he was so remarkably pale when he was born that he was given the name “Albinus.”

Political Chaos: Clodius Albinus in 193 AD

A dearth of evidence from other sources associated with this period of imperial history means that we must rely on the Historia Augusta. The anonymous biographer describes how Albinus was educated in Greek and Latin, as expected, in Africa. It says that then Albinus entered military service and enjoyed a stellar career, even catching the attention of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius. It claims that during the revolt of Avidius Cassius in 175 AD, Albinus maintained the loyalty of the Bithynian legions to the emperor.

Details of his career after this point are hazy. The Historia Augusta claims that Commodus transferred Clodius to a command in Gaul, where his victories over the local inhabitants earned him acclaim. Where credulity is stretched is in the claim that Commodus was so impressed by Clodius’ successes in Gaul that he offered to make him the imperial heir by offering him the title Caesar. Another striking claim made by the biography is that during Clodius’ praetorship, games were organized, and it was in these that Commodus first took part in gladiatorial combat.

But more concrete evidence of Albinus’ high standing came in 193 AD. This was an extraordinarily tumultuous year in Roman politics. Characterized as the “Year of the Five Emperors,” the Empire descended into political chaos following Commodus’ murder. First, the elderly senator and Commodus’s partner in the consulship, Pertinax, was made emperor. This lasted 90 days before falling foul of the praetorian guards. Then, the Empire was “purchased” in an auction, with Didius Julianus outbidding Titus Sulpicianus. Julianus was not a universally popular choice. Although his largesse had won over the praetorians, others were less than enamored with their new ruler.

Around the Empire, rivals quickly emerged. In the east, the governor of Syria, Pescennius Niger, was acclaimed by the legions under his control. North of Italy, the governor of Pannonia, Septimius Severus, was similarly acclaimed by his soldiers. Finally, to the west, Clodius Albinus, then the governor of Britain, was also acclaimed as imperator. Four imperial rivals was an untenable situation: the stage was set for civil war.

The Lion: Clodius’ Alliance With Severus

In his 16th-century treatise, “The Prince,” the Florentine diplomat Niccolò Machiavelli used ancient Roman rulers as models to instruct modern leaders. Septimius Severus was a figure of particular interest to the Florentine, who likened the ancient general to both a lion and a fox. In other words, he could demonstrate both strength and cunning to maximize opportunities. This was especially true in the period between 193 and 197 AD.

Severus was the quickest of the imperial rivals to react to his acclaim in 193. Mobilizing his soldiers in Pannonia, he marched rapidly south. Entering Rome, Didius Julianus was deposed and executed, leaving Severus in command of the imperial capital. Now, he was faced by a different problem: he was caught between two enemies, Pescennius Niger in the east and Clodius Albinus to the west.

Severus demonstrated his fox-like cunning. Recognizing the challenge posed by the two rivals, Severus decided to adopt a strategy of divide and conquer. Overtures were made to Clodius to form an alliance. Severus offered Clodius the chance to be his Caesar, effectively making him the imperial heir. Clodius agreed to the terms, adding the name “Septimius” to his own nomenclature. His identification as Decimus Clodius Septimius Albinus, which appeared on coinage and in inscriptions, communicated this new imperial alliance, as did the two men sharing a consulship in 194. With Clodius placated, Severus could turn his attention to Pescennius.

The Fox: The Break Between Clodius and Severus

Severus launched his campaign against Pescennius in 193. Much as he had done with Didius Julianus previously, Severus was able to achieve a decisive and rapid victory over his rival. The final defeat of Pescennius came in 194 at the Battle of Issus; this was the same battlefield on which Alexander the Great had defeated the Persians in 333 BC.

Although the city of Byzantium remained defiant, Severus felt secure enough to launch a campaign against cities that had allied with Pescennius on the Empire’s eastern frontier. Known as Severus’ First Parthian War, the purpose of this campaign is not clear. Cassius Dio, the senatorial historian, was cynical and claimed it was a means for Severus to rake in more glory and booty. A more practical consideration was that it allowed Severus to incorporate Pescennius’ soldiers into his own army, offering the Roman forces a common enemy.

Whether he foresaw the break coming or not is unclear, but after Severus’ triumph in Parthia, he no longer needed Clodius. On the return from the east, Severus began to turn against Clodius. The decisive split came with Severus’ elevation of his eldest son, Lucius Septimius Bassianus, better known to posterity as Caracalla, as his heir. Clodius had been supplanted, again opening the door for civil war.

Showdown: Clodius Albinus and the Battle of Lugdunum

Upon receiving the news, Albinus gathered legions from Britannia and marched south through Gaul. There, he established his headquarters in the city of Lugdunum, modern Lyon. The city had long been a strategic settlement in the Empire. Albinus was not alone, having been joined by the governor of Hispania, Lucius Novius Rufus. From his command center at Lugdunum, Clodius attacked the legions loyal to Severus stationed nearby, but with little impact. In particular, Clodius could not breach the Alpine passes into Italy, which had been reinforced by Severus.

Severus advanced his forces westward from the Danube provinces. He engaged in an initial skirmish with Clodius’ forces at Tinurtium, modern Tournus, which was inconclusive. Clodius withdrew from the settlement and instead drew up his forces at Lugdunum. There, on February 19, 197, the two imperial forces assembled and prepared for battle. The clash would be the largest battle in Roman history. Numbers are hard to ascertain with certainty. Cassius Dio records as many as 150,000 men on each side. While modern historians consider this total logistically impossible for a single battlefield engagement of the era, the figure underscores the massive structural mobilization of the battle. Both Severus and Clodius were present to lead their forces on the day, recognizing the pivotal moment.

The outcome of the battle was on a knife-edge throughout the day. Although Severus’ right wing was able to devastate Clodius’ camps, his own left wing suffered appalling losses. It was while his men were being savaged by Clodius’ forces that Severus himself was unseated from his horse. He was able to desperately rally his men and preserve his life. The day was won for Severus by the timely intervention of Laetus, his cavalry commander. He had seemingly been reluctant to join the fray to begin with, perhaps on the basis of self-preservation, or with a view to his own political ambitions. When he did, the cavalry’s charge broke the resolve of Clodius’ forces. The day and the Empire belonged to Severus.

After Lugdunum: Clodius’ Legacy in the Severan Empire

With his forces in flight, Clodius also fled from the battlefield at Lugdunum. Seeking shelter in a house beside the Rhone, the short-lived Caesar took his own life. Severus raged over the corpse of his fallen rival. Presented with Clodius’ corpse, the body was desecrated, decapitated, and the head dispatched to Rome. There, it was displayed publicly, a grisly warning to those who defied the new emperor. Clodius’ memory was condemned, and statues and inscriptions of Severus’ rival were desecrated.

Clodius’ defeat confirmed Severus as the undisputed ruler of the empire. The dynasty that he had established by the elevation of his eldest son would rule the Empire until the assassination of his grand-nephew, Severus Alexander, in 235. The Severans were the last imperial dynasty prior to the political and military turbulence of the mid-3rd-century crisis. As for Severus, he remains notable as the first Roman emperor to hail from Africa. He was a native of Leptis Magna, a city on the Mediterranean coast of North Africa. What tends to be forgotten is how his status as the first African emperor of Rome was a close-run competition. It was only his deception and defeat of Clodius Albinus, the native of Hadrumetum, in 197, that secured Severus’ enduring legacy.

Medusa, the woman with snakes for hair whose look can turn a man to stone, is one of the most famous figures from Greek mythology. But the Medusa that most people know today does not belong to Greek mythology at all. The Greeks described Medusa as a primordial goddess whose hideous visage provided apotropaic protection. It was the Roman poet Ovid, centuries later, who first described the tragic story of Medusa as the victim of Poseidon and then Athena, before being killed by Perseus.

The Primordial Origins of the Archaic Gorgon

According to Hesiod’s Theogony, one of the oldest records of Greek mythology, Medusa was one of three Gorgons, sisters born to Phorcys and Ceto, primordial gods representing the deepest and most dangerous parts of the ocean. While her sisters Stheno and Euryale were immortal, Medusa was mortal. All three sisters could turn a person to stone with a look.

According to Hesiod, the sisters lived at the far western edge of the world, beyond the ocean stream, near the night and the Hesperides. Herodotus and Pausanias say they lived in Libya, so they also imagine their home as remote.

The sisters were not beautiful women, but rather hideous beasts, often depicted with boar tusks, lolling tongues, and even beards, making it difficult to determine whether they were male or female. They had their distinctive snake hair, but also golden wings at their temples. Their chaotic appearance reflected their character as manifestations of untamed natural forces.

Medusa as an Apotropaic Symbol of Protection

In Greek material culture, Gorgons were symbols of apotropaic protection. Basically, this meant that their hideous visage was meant to scare off even more terrifying beings. This is why the Gorgoneion, the severed Gorgon head motif, was placed on shields, armor, coins, and temple pediments to protect them from evil. It was a very common theme in ancient Greek art.

This is why the goddess Athena wore the severed head of Medusa on her Aegis, which could have been a shield or a breastplate; it is unclear. It was for protection, not to turn her enemies to stone. However, the idea that Medusa’s look could turn a man to stone dates back to at least the 5th century BC. While Hesiod did not mention it, the idea appears in Pherecydes of Athens, Pindar, and Aeschylus.

Perseus and the Death of Medusa in Greek Mythology

Greek mythology also records the story of Medusa’s death. Hesiod says that Poseidon lay with Medusa “in a soft meadow among spring flowers,” which suggests a consensual relationship.

According to Pindar and Apollodorus, a mortal princess of Argos named Danae was locked up by her father because he had received a prophecy that his grandchild would kill him. But Zeus visited Danae and impregnated her (as was his custom), and she gave birth to Perseus. In retaliation, Danae’s father locked her and Perseus in a wooden chest and threw them into the sea. The pair were saved by Dictys, who then raised Perseus as his own.

While Dictys lived a humble life, his brother Polydectes was king of Seriphos. He fell in love with Danae, but Perseus was suspicious of him and tried to protect his mother from his advances. To get him out of the way, Polydectes set Perseus what he thought was an impossible task: retrieve the head of the Gorgon Medusa.

In Hesiod’s version, Perseus killed Medusa on his own without mention of any divine assistance. But by the 5th century BC, he had the help of Athena, who guided him to Medusa and also gave him use of her bronze shield so that he could look at Medusa’s reflection and not risk being turned to stone. He also had the use of Hermes’ winged sandals, and the god helped him find the Graeae, who revealed Medusa’s location, and then the Nymphs, who gave him the helm of Hades that enabled invisibility.

After all this preparation, long story short, he cut off the Gorgon’s head. The winged shoes and invisibility of the helm helped Perseus escape with his prize, as Medusa’s sister chased him. Perseus then used the head to save Andromeda and then turn Polydectes to stone, making Dictys king in his place. He then gave it to Athena to use on her Aegis.

Medusa was pregnant by Poseidon at the time, and when she was decapitated, the winged horse Pegasus and the powerful warrior Chrysaor both sprang from her hemorrhaging neck. Pegasus flies off to Mount Olympus to carry Zeus’ thunderbolts, while Chrysaor later fathers Geryon.

How Ovid Rewrote Medusa as a Tragic Victim 

While the version of the story from Greek mythology will sound familiar, there are a few key elements missing. These elements were added by the Roman poet Ovid in the early 1st century AD when he told the story of Medusa in his Metamorphoses. As the name suggests, he told mythological stories that involved an element of transformation; so why did he include Medusa?

Ovid changed Medusa’s origin story. Rather than being born a primordial being, he cast her as a beautiful young woman. She caught the attention of the god Poseidon, who forced himself on her. While this may not have been seen as a particularly bad thing for a god to do at the time (they all did it), he did it inside a temple of Athena, which was sacrilege. This angered Athena, and she took her wrath out on Medusa, transforming her into the hideous monster with snakes for hair whose look could turn a man to stone.

Ovid also added a detail that after Perseus rescued Andromeda from the sea monster, he set Medusa’s head face-down on a bed of fresh sea twigs and seaweed. The petrifying power emanating from her head hardened the soft seaweed into stone, creating the world’s first coral reefs. Sea nymphs then scattered the seeds of this new “petrified plant” across the oceans. This played into his broader themes in the Metamorphoses.

While Ovid passes no explicit moral judgment in his account, it is there for his readers to infer. He shows how men, and in this case women, are subject to the whims of the powerful gods, with a tragic outcome for Medusa. Writing in the Augustan era, it was probably also meant to reflect on how the whims of powerful men affect all. Ovid himself was exiled by the emperor Augustus for “a poem and a mistake.”

The Evolutionary Legacy of Medusa From Antiquity to Today 

Because of the nature of the survival of the sources, while Greek versions of Medusa’s stories were uncommon, Ovid’s version continued to be read in monasteries, and then grew in popularity during the Renaissance. Shakespeare referenced Ovid in almost every play he wrote. Consequently, it was the version of Medusa as the tragic victim that made its way into the popular imagination.

The idea of her as a beautiful woman tragically transformed into a monster inspired many artists, including Caravaggio (1597), Cellini (1545–1554), Bernini (c. 1630s), and many others. She has also inspired modern artists, some of whom have reclaimed her as the slayer and a part of the # MeToo movement, such as in Luciano Garbati’s statue (2008).

Roman Mithraism spread in the West between the 1st and 4th centuries AD. Mithras was a god of the Parthians, one of Rome’s greatest rivals throughout their history, so why did Rome co-opt a foreign deity from one of its most significant enemies? The answer may be found in the ancient Roman practice of god stealing. What was Roman god stealing, and what role did it play in Roman religion and warfare? And does god stealing provide a plausible explanation for the rise of Roman Mithraism?

What Was Roman God Stealing?

The Romans believed that they were blessed by the favor of the gods, and that Rome’s continued greatness depended on maintaining that divine favor. They did this through proper ritual recognition of their own gods through cult. As the Roman Empire expanded, the Romans encountered new gods in foreign lands, which they also often worshipped to ensure broad divine favor. They often syncretized these deities with their own gods, identifying them as manifestations of Jupiter, Mercury, or Minerva in foreign lands.

While absorbing new gods into Roman religion was often a peaceful process, this was not always the case. They would also sometimes actively abduct foreign gods. A mix of kidnapping and enticement, ritual abductions were an act of religious warfare aimed at forcing “divine defections” in favor of Rome. Addressing heavenly imbalance, they were intended to bolster Rome’s religious fortunes by usurping an enemy’s divine patronage. Divine abductions were commonly undertaken during times of acute stress, moments of military and cultural crisis.

There were two types of abduction: evocatio during times of war and diplomatic abductions in times of peace.

Stealing Gods in War by Evocatio

Evocatio was one of the tools Rome had in its war arsenal, undermining terrestrial forces by targeting their divine patrons. It was a dark ritual that forced the transference of foreign deities away from their native city and people. It often happened at the culmination of a war, typically the destruction of an enemy city, to protect the Roman army and state from potentially vindictive enemy Gods.

A Roman priest or commander would enact an incantation, enticing the enemy deity to abandon their city. This included an appeasement element; the displaced divinity was often promised a prestigious temple and rights of worship within either Rome or Italy. Evocation sought to mollify the anger of those enemy deities of uncertain power and spite.

City boundaries carried profound religious significance in the ancient world, and tutelary deities were the cornerstone of state survival. So, in a wider cultural sense, evocatio was also an act of ritualized conquest, co-opting the protectors of Rome’s enemies, in an act of religious and cultural domination.

From Veii to Carthage: Examples of Evocatio

This tactic was deployed against Rome’s ancient enemy Veii in c. 396 BC, when the Etruscan goddess Juno Regina was lured back to Rome:

“Queen Juno, who now dwellest in Veii, I beseech, that thou wouldst follow us, after our victory, to the City which is ours and which will soon be thine, where a temple worthy of thy majesty will receive thee.”

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Livy, History of Rome 5.21

Following the battlefield ritual, an honor guard of youthful nobles escorted the Goddess’s statue back to a prestigious temple on the Aventine Hill.

Unknown deities were also seemingly stolen by Rome at the siege of the Etruscan town of Falerii in 241 BC. At the culmination of the Third Punic War in 146 BC, Rome abducted at least one deity from Carthage. A supposed incantation by the commander Scipio Aemilianus is intriguing:

“… to any God, to any Goddess, under whose protection are the people and state of Carthage, and chiefly to thee who are charged with the protection of the city and people, I make prayer and do reverence and ask grace of you all, that ye abandon the people and state of Carthage, forsake their places, temples, shrines, and city, and depart there from… come to Rome, to me and to mine; and that our places, temples, shrines, and city may be more acceptable and pleasing to you…”

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Macrobius, Saturnalia, 2.7-8

In other words, break with Carthage, and you will be rewarded and honored back in Rome. Macrobius identifies Scipio and the Roman army as the direct agents of this religious transfer back to Rome. This “contract” with the citizen military is highlighted by the clause: “take me and the Roman people and my soldiers under your charge” (Macrobius, Saturnalia 2.8).

While Macrobius is writing in the 5th century AD, his assertion that an incantation was part of the evocatio process is confirmed by earlier sources, including Livy, Pliny the Elder, and Plutarch. Archaeological evidence also supports this picture. A fragmentary inscription (AE 1977, 816 = CIL IÇ 2954) from the Cilician city of Isaura Vetus in Asia Minor (southern Turkey) dates to 75 BC. It uses similar ritualistic terminology, but only offered the unknown deity a temple in the local province, and not in Rome itself.

There is less evidence for evocatio in the imperial period, but the practice seems to have continued. Pliny the Elder, citing Verrius Flaccus, noted that pontiffs were still, in Augustan times, proficient in the practice.

“… [at] a siege, it was the usage, the first thing of all, for the Roman priests to summon forth the tutelary divinity of that particular town, and to promise him the same rites, or even a more extended worship, at Rome; and at the present day even, this ritual still forms part of the discipline of our pontiffs. Hence it is, no doubt, that the name of the tutelary deity of Rome has been so strictly kept concealed, lest any of our enemies should act in a similar manner.”

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Pliny, Natural History, 28.4.18

Protecting Roman Gods from Theft

But while the practice still existed in the 1st century AD, evocatio was clearly an archaic practice, which diminished throughout the late Republic and was much less common in the early imperial period.

In the shadow realm of religious “black ops,” Pliny also highlights that the Romans were deeply paranoid about their own vulnerabilities. Plutarch echoed the sentiment.

“… as certain Roman writers have recorded, there are certain evocations and enchantments affecting the gods, by which the Romans also believed that certain gods had been called forth​ from their enemies, and had come to dwell among themselves, and they were afraid of having this same thing done to them by others?”

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Plutarch, Moralia, Roman Questions, 61

Plutarch goes on to note that Valerius Soranus (possibly a tribune in the time of Sulla) was put to death for uttering the name(s) of Rome’s tutelary protector(s). God capture and protection was a serious and clandestine business. Careless talk costs lives.

Stealing Gods in Peacetime

The Roman state also co-opted foreign Gods in times of peace. Still triggered by periods of acute stress, abductions were aimed at addressing specific problems.

Ceres, an agricultural deity, was transposed to Rome by the dictator Aulus Postumius Albinus. This followed a command of the Sibylline Books, consulted in response to a period of famine around 496 BC. Associated with the Greek goddess Demeter, she was afforded a temple on the Aventine Hill.

In 291 BC, the healing god Asclepius was summoned to Rome from Epidaurus, following a plague in 293 BC, and installed outside the city, on an island in the Tiber. A strange “dream-like” story exists in Livy of the Roman embassy literally escorting a snake (the symbolic embodiment of Asclepius) by ship, back to Rome.

Cybele, known as Magna Mater to the Romans, was similarly conveyed from Phrygia in Asia Minor and established on the Palatine Hill in Rome in 204 BC. Again guided by the Sibylline Books, the deity was welcomed to Rome by prominent Roman matrons. Like Mithras, Cybele had an ancient and distinctly eastern pedigree, established long before her Romanization. Driven by the Second Punic War, the Romans needed a divine boost in their deadly struggle with Carthage.

Rome clearly had a tradition of co-opting foreign deities during periods of crisis. Indeed, it is hard not to see the Romans as actually “shopping” for certain deities and their attributes. Some anthropologists have labelled Roman God-stealing as nothing less than a “crisis ritual,” undertaken in response to acute periods of cultural uncertainty.

Parthia: Hot Wars, Cold Wars, Culture Wars

Parthia’s earliest shock victory over Rome foreshadowed the Republic’s fall. Though not the cause of the Republic’s demise, the total defeat of Crassus by Parthian arms at Carrhae in 53 BC set in motion a political “unravelling” that would lead to decades of civil war and Rome’s transformation into an imperial state.

Not only the nemesis of Crassus, Parthia also defied the military ambitions of Julius Caesar and Mark Antony. While Octavian later presented the retrieval of Crassus’s lost eagle standards as a victory, this was thin propaganda for a Roman audience. Rome later had both military and diplomatic victories in the East, but Parthia remained a long-term rival to Rome’s hegemony in the East.

Rome’s relationship with Parthia was typified by the sponsorship of opposing puppet-kings, uneasy treaties, spheres of influence, tensions, and breakdowns into conflict. The Julio-Claudian rulers each sought strategies to stabilize the Eastern border while projecting notions of Roman power, control, and cultural legitimacy.

While much of the conflict of the 1st century AD played out via proxy wars (largely over Armenia), Rome’s hot conflicts with Parthia were punctuated by distinct periods of a deeper “cold war.” Elements of diplomatic and cultural warfare played out as the two powers maneuvered for advantage. Both Rome and Parthia engaged in highly symbolic acts of cultural and political conflict that almost certainly included dimensions of religious warfare.

The ritual submission of the Armenian king Tiridates I in AD 66 before a statue of Nero, mounted on a curial chair, is a distinct example, demonstrating the importance of symbolism within the psychological realm of a wider cultural war.

It is against this backdrop that the ritual abduction of Mithras by Rome played out. Whether constructed as a voluntary divine defection or an induced state kidnapping, the usurpation of a principal Parthian God to the Roman West must have constituted a propagandic coup of the highest order.

Parthia was certainly not above such dirty tricks. Bizarrely, the posthumous usurpation of the last Julio-Claudian emperor, Nero, was a shocking example. Parthia harbored at least two pseudo-Neros who emerged in the decades following Nero’s suicide in AD 68. “You steal our God; we steal your Emperor,” or the other way around. No matter how bogus, the hints of a “tit for tat,” asymmetrical war are there.

Did the Romans Steal Mithras From Parthia?

With the use of evocation seemingly running into the Late Republic, and with ritual capability being retained by Pontiffs of the 1st century CE, we have a timeframe that is viable for the establishment of Roman Mithraea (underground temples) in the West.

Traditional supposition is that Roman Mithraism must have arrived in the West a generation or so before the appearance of well-built Mithraea in Rome, Italy, and the central Roman Empire, so around the end of the 1st century AD. While not common, we know that evocatio was still a Roman practice at this time.

Perplexing to historians and archaeologists, the diffusion of Mithraic temples does not show any gradual or sequential spread from Rome’s Eastern provinces back to the West, but rather a comparatively rapid “jump” to the center of the Empire. This supports the suggestion that Mithras may have been ritually conveyed back to Rome, as we know other co-opted deities were.

With a high relative concentration of Mithraea specifically around Ostia and Rome, we might also consider that Ostia (and the Tiber-Rome axis) was the predictable point of entry for any “conveyed” divinity to make landfall in Italy.

Additionally, there is a growing discourse that Roman Mithraism, seemingly disjointed and inauthentic from its Persianized antiquity, may have been a Roman pseudo-religion: perhaps a “costume cult,” loosely appropriated from the East. A God stealing model also accommodates this scenario, as Romans may have “stolen” mere approximations of their enemies’ gods. It does not follow that they were always accurate in their understanding of the Gods they co-opted. Macrobius certainly hints that Scipio Aemilianus invoked unknown deities from Carthage, that he could not fully hope to fathom prior to the city’s fall.

If the “capture” of Mithras was part of Roman cultural warfare, symbolic dominance and humiliation (rather than authenticity) may have been Rome’s primary focus. Overt dominance is something that can be found within “Roman” Mithraic iconography. The ritual bull slaughter (tauroctony) that appears exclusively within Roman Mithraism might well carry an allegorical and vindictive message for the jilted Parthians.

Bulls conveyed both sacred and royal connotations within the Achaemenid and Parthian tradition. Their ritual slaughter by a co-opted Romanized Mithras might conceivably signify a domineering message of Roman ritual supremacy. Aspects of Mithraic practice clearly simulated ritual acts of violence and domination. Could these acts have been constructed to convey Roman symbolic dominance?

As a deity, Mithras made for a high-value cultural target. The powerful sun god, associated with divine order and contracts, was believed to have regulated oaths of military service, including those between eastern kings and their warrior elites.

Subsequent distribution of Roman Mithraea between the 1st and 3rd centuries AD highlights the cult’s great success in military frontier provinces, such as Northern and Western Europe (Hadrian’s Wall, the Rhine and Danube frontiers), as well as North Africa. This attests to the tacit, though powerful appeal of the cult specifically within the army. Mithraism tracked the Roman army through cities, forts, frontiers, roads, and rivers, mapping onto the Roman army’s logistical networks.

Why Mithraism Thrived in the Roman World

Paranoia and violent suppression were known Roman responses to several other foreign cults (and groups) that triggered Roman distaste and anxiety. So, we must ask why Mithraism was tolerated when other prominent foreign cults were not?

At face value, Mithraism exhibited several “triggers” that typically invoked Roman persecution. Not only foreign, but from an “enemy” culture, Mithraism was both secretive and clandestinely linked to the army. Unless actively welcomed, it is hard to explain why the Romans did not see the cult as a real and present danger. The cult’s toleration was especially odd during an acute period of prolonged military and cultural tension with Parthia.

Therefore, it seems likely that to accommodate the cultural trauma of its Parthian defeats, Roman may have utilized a long-established crisis ritual and stolen Mithras, the Parthian sun god. This would explain Mithraism’s rapid and archaeologically distinct progression to the West. It is certainly a proposition deserving of further evaluation within Roman Mithraic study.

Classical architecture is often defined by its relationship to one of the five orders: Tuscan, Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, and Composite. The five canonical orders were codified by Renaissance theorists in the 15th and 16th centuries based on their observations of ancient Roman buildings and their study of Vitruvius’ Ten Books on Architecture, the only surviving architectural treatise from antiquity.

What Are the Five Orders of Classical Architecture?

The five orders of classical architecture are the Tuscan, Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, and Composite. They were canonized during the 15th-16th centuries by Italian Renaissance architects based on their studies of Vitruvius’s Ten Books on Architecture, the only surviving architectural treatise from antiquity.

Vitruvius lived in the 1st century BC and was heavily influenced by Greek architecture and described the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian orders that were initially used in Greece and later adopted by Roman architecture. He also referred to a Tuscan order developed by the Etruscans in Italy that resembled the Doric.

Alongside Vitruvius’s treatise, the Renaissance architects surveyed old Roman buildings and sought to match them to Vitruvius’s descriptions. In the process, they recognized the Tuscan and Composite as two additional distinct orders to create the five orders as we know them today.

Influential treatises by Italian Renaissance architects such as Andrea Palladio and Giacomo Barozzi da Vignola ensured that they became the standard of classical architecture in Europe and the Americas.

While Roman ruins were readily accessible to Italian Renaissance architects, Greece was ruled by the Ottoman Empire, which was often at war with the Christian powers. It was not until the late 18th century that British architects James Stuart and Nicholas Revett obtained permission to travel to Greece and survey the Greek ruins, which they published in the four-volume The Antiquities of Athens.

The differences between Greek and Roman architecture are subtle but important. Greek columns were usually freestanding and essential structural elements, while Roman columns were often built into walls and arches and served a more decorative function. Greek columns had shorter bases, while the Romans sometimes put them on pedestals. Greek columns were nearly always fluted (grooved), while fluting was optional for Roman columns.

Proportions and Hierarchy

Vitruvius emphasized harmony and proportion in architecture and drew parallels between the orders and human anatomy. Vitruvius wrote that a man’s height is equal to his arm span, and that his head is one-eighth his total height. These ideas inspired Leonardo da Vinci’s famous drawing of the Vitruvian Man from 1490.

Vitruvius believed that similar proportional rules ought to govern architecture. The Doric order was considered sturdier and more utilitarian, while the Ionic and Corinthian orders were more elegant. Accordingly, Vitruvius wrote that the height of a Doric column should be six or seven times its width, while Ionic and Corinthian columns should be eight or nine times.

The Renaissance architects formulated their ideal proportions based on Vitruvius’s work and their own measurements of Roman buildings. They codified a hierarchy of orders from the thickest (Tuscan) to the slimmest (Composite).

In multi-story buildings, Tuscan and Doric orders are found below Ionic and Corinthian orders to convey strength and stability. This superposition of orders is apparent in the Colosseum. The lowest floor features a Tuscan order (sometimes described as Doric), the second floor Ionic, the third floor Corinthian, and the fourth-floor attic a Composite order.

1. The Minimalist Utility of the Tuscan Order

The Romans considered the Tuscan order a simplified form of the Doric, and it was not until the 16th century that it was recognized as a distinct architectural order. The order is named after the Etruscans whose culture dominated the Italian peninsula before the rise of Rome and heavily influenced early Roman architecture.

While the Tuscan column closely resembles that of the Doric, Tuscan columns are always unfluted, and the Tuscan entablature (the horizontal section above the columns) lacks the decorative elements of the Doric.

As the simplest and sturdiest order, the Tuscan order came to be associated with military facilities such as army camps and forts. It would also be used in the countryside for stables and less elaborate villas. Few examples of the Tuscan order survive from Roman antiquity, but one of the most famous is the ground floor of the Colosseum.

Despite its simplicity, the Tuscan order can be used to dramatic effect. Gianlorenzo Bernini’s magnificent Tuscan colonnade at St Peter’s Square conveys the embrace of the Roman Catholic Church while simultaneously expressing the power and authority of the Papacy.

2. The Rugged Simplicity of the Doric Order

The Doric is the oldest and simplest Greek order. While Vitruvius and the Renaissance theorists specified that the Doric column should be six or seven times their width, some of the earliest surviving examples at Paestum in Italy have stouter proportions. These early columns also display a more exaggerated entasis, the bulging of the lower half of the columns to correct an optical illusion that makes perfectly straight columns look thin.

The Doric has a distinctive entablature of alternating triglyphs and metopes. The triglyphs are the groups of three vertical blocks which represent the end of beams that were used when temples were constructed of wood. The bottom of each triglyph is decorated with six guttae, symbolizing the small pegs that would have been used to secure the beams. The triglyphs are placed directly above the center line of the columns. The metopes are the square spaces between the triglyphs and may be left plain or decorated with sculptures.

Like the Tuscan order, the Doric was regarded as a masculine order and used for military buildings and city gates. The Doric was rarely used by Roman and Renaissance architects but was popular during the Greek Revival. The Brandenburg Gate in Berlin and the Lincoln Memorial in Washington were inspired by the Greek Doric.

Greek Doric: The Parthenon

The most iconic example of Greek Doric is the Parthenon in Athens, built by the statesman Pericles in the mid-5th century BC after the acropolis was sacked by the Persians. The temple has 46 Doric columns, eight on the front and back and 17 on each side. The columns are closely spaced, with a column under every second triglyph. The metopes were decorated with sculptures of the battle between the Lapiths and Centaurs, many of which were removed by Lord Elgin in the 18th century. The same applies to the frieze above the columns, which depicted the Panathenaic Festival dedicated to the goddess Athena.

Roman Doric: Bramante’s Tempietto

Among the few surviving examples of the Roman Doric is the Theater of Marcellus in Rome, named after the nephew and heir of Emperor Augustus who died young in 23 BC. The Roman Doric order was also used to great effect by the Renaissance architect Donato Bramante in his Tempietto, a small domed chapel built on the traditional site of St Peter’s crucifixion in Rome.

This elegant circular structure would inspire many great domes around the world, such as that of St Peter’s Basilica in Rome, St Paul’s Cathedral in London, and the US Capitol in Washington, DC.

Andrea Palladio was so impressed by the Tempietto that he included it among his drawings of restored ancient temples in Book Four of his Four Books of Architecture, his influential treatise from 1570.

3. The Elegant Scrolls of the Ionic Order

The defining feature of the Ionic order is the scroll-shaped volutes of the Ionic capital. The band between the volutes is often decorated with an egg and dart molding. A narrow egg and dart pattern may also be seen on the Ionic entablature, which is crowned by a cornice decorated with dentils, an unbroken series of small tooth-like blocks running at regular intervals across the top of the entablature.

The volutes on Ionic capitals originally ran parallel to each other. This created a problem for corner columns, where the volutes could only face one direction. The Romans often turned the corner volute 45 degrees so that it could face both directions. It was later common for all the volutes to turn 45 degrees.

Vitruvius considered the Ionic a feminine order and it offers an elegant domesticity in contrast to the austere Doric and the elaborate Corinthian. Palladio’s famous Villa Rotonda features Ionic porticos on all four sides. The resemblance of Ionic volutes to scrolls means that the order is often used for libraries, museums, and schools and universities.

Greek Ionic: The Erechtheion

Some of the most iconic examples of the Ionic order from Greek antiquity can be found at the Erechtheion on the north side of the Athenian acropolis. Of the temple’s three porticos, the northern and eastern porticos employ the Ionic order, while the southern portico features columns in the form of young women known as Caryatids.

The temple’s irregular shape is explained by the terrain and the belief that it was dedicated to multiple gods involved in the founding of the city. The building was primarily dedicated to Athena Polias (“Athena of the City”) but was also associated with the cult of Erechtheus, the legendary founder of the city who was linked to the sea god Poseidon.

Roman Ionic: The Temple of Portunus

The Temple of Portunus is a small temple on the banks near the River Tiber in Rome built in the 1st century BC during the Late Republican period. It is dedicated to the god of ports and livestock. The portico of consists of freestanding columns four wide and two deep, but the rest of the columns are engaged or embedded into the wall. The volutes are parallel except the corner volute, which rotated 45 degrees. Despite its modest size, the portico of the Temple of Portunus has inspired four-column porticos designed by Renaissance and neoclassical architects.

4. The Ornate Grandeur of the Corinthian Order

The Corinthian Order is known for its elaborate capital of featuring two tiers of Acanthus leaves and spiral stems called helices. Vitruvius shares a poignant but likely apocryphal story about how the Corinthian Order was created. An architect named Callimachus was walking through a cemetery one day when he found a basket of grave goods near the grave of a young girl. Acanthus leaves had grown around the basket, creating such a pleasing effect that Callimachus designed the Corinthian column capital.

The Corinthian order likely evolved from the Ionic, since the spiral forms at the corners of the Corinthian order resemble Ionic corner volutes. Owing to its slender proportions, typically nine or ten times the width of the base, the Corinthian order was associated with young maidens. The acanthus leaves symbolized immortality and the Corinthian order was used extensively during the Roman Empire to express grandeur and permanence.

Greek Corinthian: The Choragic Monument of Lysicrates

The earliest example of the Corinthian order was in the Temple of Apollo in Bassae from the 5th century BC, where a single Corinthian column stands at the end of the temple. The Choragic Monument of Lysicrates in Athens, commissioned by a prizewinning chorus director named Lysicrates, is the first instance of the Corinthian order being used externally.

Roman Corinthian: The Pantheon

The Corinthian Order was widely used in Roman public buildings, particularly after the Republic gave way to the Empire. One of the most iconic buildings in Rome is the Pantheon, built by Emperor Hadrian in the 2nd century AD. The temple features a conventional Corinthian portico in front of a large circular temple building dedicated to all of the Roman gods.

Although the Pantheon’s combination of a pedimented portico with a circular hall was unique in Roman architecture, it has influenced a host of famous buildings worldwide, including Palladio’s Villa La Rotunda (featuring four Ionic porticos), Lord Burlington’s Chiswick House (a single Ionic portico), and Thomas Jefferson’s home at Monticello (two Doric porticos).

5. The Magnificence of the Composite Order

Like the Tuscan, the Composite Order was only recognized as a distinct order during the Renaissance. Vitruvius did not describe the Composite Order in his treatise but wrote that there were many varieties of the Corinthian Order.

As its name suggests, the Composite Order combines elements of the Corinthian and Ionic orders. This may involve a Corinthian capital with full corner volutes paired with an Ionic entablature. The Composite Order was often seen in Roman triumphal arches, such as the Arch of Titus, built in 81 AD to commemorate the victorious campaigns of the emperors Titus and Vespasian in the Jewish War. Accordingly, the Composite is often associated with triumph and victory.

While the Composite is not as popular as the Corinthian Order, it can be seen in church facades to illustrate the triumph of Christ. Palladio striking façade of the Church of San Giorgio Maggiore in Venice features four giant Composite columns in front of the nave. One of the most imposing examples of the Composite Order is the façade of the Archbasilica of St John Lateran in Rome. The imposing façade was designed by the Florentine architect Alessandro Galilei in the 18th century.

Classicism in Modernity

As this article has shown, classical architecture has a timeless aesthetic quality that has endured for more than two thousand years. Although 20th century architecture came to be dominated by modernist ideas that prioritized function over aesthetic considerations, classical urban design is currently experiencing a revival.

In England, the town of Poundbury in Dorset is being built to a design by the late Luxembourgish neoclassical architect Leon Krier. The project was conceived by King Charles III in the 1990s while he was Prince of Wales.

The Trojan War was the most destructive episode in Greek mythology, claiming the lives of countless Greek and Trojan heroes. But even when the war had ended, the trials of the Greek heroes did not end. For most, the journey home proved even more treacherous, and in some cases, fatal. These journeys were recorded in a now-lost epic called the Nostoi, meaning “returns.” These stories show how the war changed the heroes, and how their homes have changed in their absence. These are the nostoi stories of the Greek heroes.

Greek Nostos and Returning Home

The returns are the journeys home of the Greek heroes after the Trojan War. These returns were recorded in a lost epic poem from the Epic Cycle called Nostoi. Only five and a half lines survive, and a summary written by Proclus in the 2nd or 5th century AD. While certain details are disputed, we understand the overarching narrative. The epic was said to have been written by Agias of Troezen and comprised five books, or episodes. Some of the Nostoi journeys are described in other works, such as in the Odyssey, Aeschylus‘ play Agamemnon, or the works of Apollodorus. They were an important part of the cultural patrimony of the ancient Greeks.

The Greek concept of Nostos referred not only to the journey home itself, but also to the poetic telling of that journey. As such, Nostos was a genre that incorporated several common motifs. The Nostos narrative had five stages. First, the hero goes to war, leaving his home behind. Then his return is interrupted, his wife is tempted by usurpers, and on resuming his journey home, he stops on an intermediate island. Finally, having returned home, he dons a disguise and retakes his household from the usurpers, thus regaining his honor.

Nostos is a return to something familiar, but also a new beginning. Though generally understood to mean a journey home, Nostos can have the broader meaning of a journey towards a destination. This can be seen in the Homeric Hymn to Delian Apollo, when Cretan sailors are journeying from Crete to Pylos, but are instead led to Delos by Apollo. It also encompasses a yearning to reach a destination and the subsequent relief or joy at reaching it safely.

The Epic Cycle and the Returns: An Overview

In the Nostoi, the first book described a dispute between Agamemnon and Menelaus, instigated by an angered Athena, over their return home. Agamemnon wanted to wait and appease Athena before leaving, while Menelaus wanted to leave immediately. The heroes Diomedes and Nestor sail home and arrive safely, as described in the Odyssey Book Three. Menelaus leaves soon after, but is driven off course by a storm and lands in Egypt.

Book Two relates to a group comprised of the seer Calchas, Leonteus, and Polypoites. They forgo sea travel and instead travel overland to Colophon, where the seer dies and is buried. Proclus named the deceased seer as Tiresias, but Apollodorus wrote that it was Calchas, which fits better with the narrative.

In Book Three, Achilles’ ghost appears to Agamemnon’s group and warns them of what will happen in the future. They set sail, and Agamemnon makes land at Tenedos. But the group with the hero Ajax is beset by a storm sent by Athena, and Ajax is drowned at sea.

Book Four centers on Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles. He was advised by his grandmother Thetis to wait two days after Agamemnon left and then to make his way home by land. Neoptolemus did as instructed and travelled into Thrace, where he found Odysseus, though this event doesn’t occur in the Odyssey. He then continued his journey and arrived in the kingdom of the Molossians, thought to be Epirus. There he was recognized by his grandfather Peleus and eventually became king of the Molossians.

Book Five narrates Orestes’ vengeance against his uncle and mother for the murder of Agamemnon, and Menelaus’ return to Sparta.

While not mentioned in Proclus’ summary, in Pausanias’ Descriptions of Greece, he suggests that the epic also contained a journey to the Underworld, such as the one we see in the Odyssey.

The Bloody Fate of Agamemnon in Mycenae

Agamemnon represents a negative Nostos for, while he returned home safely, his reintegration into society was ultimately unsuccessful. His journey home was described in the Nostoi epic as being marked by storms that blew him off course, but unlike his brother, Menelaus, he reached home without any extended stints in foreign lands.

The real trial for Agamemnon was what awaited him at home. Described in the Odyssey and dramatized by Aeschylus, Agamemnon was unaware that his cousin, Aegisthus, had taken over his household and had been having an affair with his wife, Clytemnestra. She was angry at Agamemnon for sacrificing their daughter, Iphigenia, at Aulis to obtain favorable winds for the Greek fleet before the Trojan War began. The lovers plotted Agamemnon’s demise, and the day he returned home, he was murdered in his bath.

The Wandering Years of Menelaus and Helen

Menelaus represents a successful Nostos. He not only returned home but successfully reintegrated back into society. Part of Menelaus’ journey home was told to Telemachus during his visit to Sparta in Book Four of the Odyssey.

The first misfortune to befall Menelaus was the mysterious death of his helmsman, Phrontis, shot by an arrow of Apollo as they were passing Cape Sounion. He was then blown off course by a storm, which sent him and half of his ships to Egypt and the other half to Crete. In Egypt he encountered King Proteus, who told him of his future. He also found Helen, who had been in Egypt all along. The Helen he had recovered from Troy was only a phantom made from clouds.

Menelaus returned home to Sparta and was given immortality by Hera and allowed to live with Helen in the Elysian Fields.

Betrayal and Banishment for Diomedes and Idomeneus

Diomedes’ journey home was rather peaceful. He encountered no storms and wasn’t waylaid. He arrived home safely, yet his home was not the same as when he had left it. Diomedes found that while he was away, a man named Nauplios had incited the women of Greece to be unfaithful to their husbands as a way of getting revenge on the Greek heroes that murdered his son. His wife took a lover, Cometes, and with him drove Diomedes out of Argos.

Diomedes fled to Italy, where he founded numerous cities. A reference to an epic called the Diomedeia by Iullus Antonius reveals that Diomedes also journeyed to Africa, where a princess fell in love with him. When he left, the princess killed herself. This mirrors Aeneas’ journey in the Aeneid, which took him to Italy via Carthage, where Queen Dido fell in love with the hero and killed herself when he left.

While Diomedes’ Nostos home was unsuccessful, he ultimately survived the trials and found a new home in Italy.

Neoptolemus and the Violent Legacy of Achilles

Neoptolemos sailed out with Agamemnon and put in at Tenedos with the fleet. When they all continued their journey home, Neoptolemos was visited by Thetis and advised to wait two days to offer sacrifice before leaving. He ended up in the kingdom of the Molossians, thought to be Epirus in northwestern Greece, where he became king after defeating them in battle.

He later returned and retook the kingdom of Phthia in Thessaly after his grandfather, Peleus, had been expelled by the sons of Acastos and died. When Orestes was driven mad by the Furies for murdering his mother, Clytemnestra, Neoptolemos abducted his wife, Hermione, because she had been promised to him at Troy. For this reason, Orestes killed Neoptolemus at Delphi.

Another account stated that Neoptolemus was killed at Delphi because he demanded reparations from Apollo for the death of Achilles, and that he plundered the treasures and set fire to the temple.

The Ten-Year Odyssey of King Odysseus

Odysseus is in all respects the quintessential Nostos hero, and the Odyssey contains several micro-Nostos tales in its narrative. Odysseus not only undergoes his own journey home, with all the trials and tribulations that accompany it, but also learns of the journeys of other Greek heroes. In this way, the audience can contrast the successful or positive returns of Nestor, Diomedes (his wife’s infidelity is not related in the Odyssey), and Menelaus, with the unsuccessful or negative returns of Agamemnon and Ajax.

When Odysseus finally arrives in Ithaca, he doesn’t even recognize his home. He doesn’t kiss the earth as Agamemnon was said to have done, for he knows that the arrival home is not the conclusion of his Nostos. To truly return, he must first reintegrate into the society that he left behind when he sailed for Troy. This takes the form of his slaughter of the suitors, thus reestablishing himself as the king of Ithaca, and the subsequent truce between himself and the surviving suitors.

Why the Myth of the Nostoi Still Captivates Us

While the Nostoi epic poem may not have had as tight a grip on the cultural identity of Greece as the Iliad or the Odyssey, the theme of Nostos was central to many later works, particularly the tragic playwrights. Aeschylus’ Agamemnon tells of Agamemnon’s arrival home and his betrayal by his wife and cousin. Euripides’ Helen tells of Helen’s stay in Egypt, her discovery by Menelaus, and their escape from Egypt.

The theme of homecoming is also not limited to Greek epics or tragedy. Authors like James Joyce in his Ulysses, or Cormac McCarthy in The Road both contain themes of homecoming or a yearning to reach a destination, whether geographical or psychological. Nostos was more than a type of narrative structure; it was the framework by which the consequences of a journey into the unknown could be explored.

Select Bibliography

Bonifazi, A. (2009). “Inquiring into Nostos and Its Cognates,” The American Journal of Philology, 130(4), 481–510.

Fletcher, K. F. B. (2006). “Vergil’s Italian Diomedes,” The American Journal of Philology, 127(2), 219–259.

During the second century AD, Rome experienced a period of peace and prosperity known as the Pax Romana. But during the reign of Marcus Aurelius, it faced a genuine crisis in the form of the Marcomannic Wars. His reputation as Rome’s Philosopher Emperor is at odds with the reality of these bloody and brutal conflicts, as well as the plagues, invasions, and instability that blighted his reign. What were the Marcomannic Wars, and how did they shape Marcus Aurelius as an emperor and philosopher?

End of the Pax Romana

From its earliest days, shrouded in myth, Rome was constantly expanding its territory. By the early 2nd century AD, the Roman Empire was at its height, with its provinces stretching from Britannia in the north, Egypt in the south, the Iberian Peninsula in the west, and Mesopotamia in the east. The Empire was connected by a vast system of well-maintained roads, which allowed trade and legions to move with unprecedented efficiency.

While there were wars and revolts, for the most part, the average inhabitant of the Roman Empire lived a life of peace and prosperity for about two centuries. From the reign of the first emperor, Augustus, to those of the “Five Good Emperors,” Rome experienced a Golden Age. But by the mid-second century AD, Rome was falling victim to its own success.

Marcus Aurelius’ predecessor, Antoninus Pius, never left Italy during his reign; the Empire’s stability meant there was no reason to. Border security and other military matters were left to legionary legates and provincial governors. But during his reign, far to the east, a revitalized Parthian Empire began encroachment on Roman boundaries. Shortly after the emperor died in AD 161, the Parthians marched into Armenia, a Roman client kingdom, and deposed the Roman-backed leader. One of the first tests of the new co-emperors, Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, was to respond to this threat. It took five years, but after a grinding conflict, Rome triumphed, sacking the Parthian capital of Ctesiphon in AD 166.

Rome may have triumphed on the battlefield, but it suffered severe consequences. The Antonine Plague was brought back from the east by the Roman legions, and the disease quickly spread throughout the Empire. Based on the symptoms described by the Greek physician Galen, it was probably a form of smallpox. When it finally petered out, the death total was between five and ten million, with some even suggesting that up to a third of Rome’s population was killed by the disease.

The Roman military was hit particularly hard, especially on the Germanic frontiers. Once a highly disciplined and professional fighting force, the legions were badly crippled. Marcus Aurelius was forced to recruit replacements from among slaves, criminals, and gladiators. This meant the Romans guarding against barbarian encroachment were not only depleted in number, but also in professionalism and experience.

Many historians believe that the Antonine Plague was the first stage in the fall of the Roman Empire. It was certainly a heavy blow and a sign that not all was right within the Empire. Taking advantage of Roman weakness, Germanic tribes surged across the Rhine and Danube frontiers, driving deep into Roman territory.

Mud and Blood: The Reality on the Danube Frontier

While many tribes were involved, the three most prominent were the Marcomanni and the Quadi, both Germanic tribes related to the powerful Suebi and the Iazyges. The Iazyges were Sarmatians, nomadic peoples from the steppe who settled in what is now Hungary and Serbia and adopted a semi-nomadic lifestyle. All three were nominally clients of Rome. They engaged in trade and diplomacy with Rome, even fighting as allies in the Dacian Wars and other conflicts. Because of their close contact with Rome, they were familiar with Roman military tactics and weaponry, and how to counter these threats.

There is little firsthand information about the exact weapons and equipment used by the Marcomanni and their allies, but they were much more sophisticated than popularly believed. Their warriors, at least wealthy warriors, were equipped with iron mail shirts and iron or bronze helmets. They used spears, axes, and swords, and were protected by large, oblong or rectangular wooden shields. As the Marcomannic Wars progressed, they also captured and used Roman gear. They may not have been as disciplined or professional as their adversaries, but they were far from an unorganized rabble.

The fighting in the Marcomannic Wars can best be described as a hybrid between conventional armies and guerrilla tactics. There were traditional battles and sieges that the Romans were familiar with, but the barbarians also made use of the difficult terrain to their advantage. The Danube and Rhine rivers were wide and deep barriers that were generally well fortified, giving the Romans a clear advantage. The area around the frontier was open terrain, ideal territory for the legions to operate, though it was also perfect ground for the horse-based Iazyges. The rest of the region is filled with dense forests or rugged mountains, which the Germans could exploit as choke points. Swampland was also commonplace, and legionaries could be bogged down in the muck or forced to travel well-defined paths, right into carefully prepared ambushes.

While they excelled in pitched battles and sieges, the Romans became frustrated fighting an enemy that could melt back into the dark forests. What should have been an easy victory turned into an extended war of grinding battles against a determined enemy. Marcus Aurelius described the conflict as “the spider hunting the fly” (Meditations 10.10).

Writing Meditations in a War Tent

Marcus Aurelius spent much of his reign on campaign, and after the death of his co-emperor Lucius Verus in AD 169, was forced to lead alone. With the burden of leadership his to bear, he turned to Stoicism to endure. One of the key tenets of stoicism is the ability to endure and not be broken by the trials of life. Like a stony headland buffeted by waves, Marcus Aurelius reminded himself to be unshakable in the face of obstacles. No matter what was thrown at him, he would simply endure and not be brought down by despair or anger, unshakable to the core. He also reminds himself to focus on what is right in front of him and not to become concerned with the unknowable and distant future.

One of the most significant passages of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, his musing on life through Stoicism, is the heading of the second book. It states: “Written among the Quadi on the River Gran.” This reinforces that his philosophy was forged on the blood-soaked battlefield among enemies and not in the comfortable marble palaces of Rome. He reminds himself that during the day, he will face gossipers, envious men, complainers, and other less-than-pleasant individuals. He cautions himself not to take them personally and to have pity on them since they are ignorant and simply cannot help themselves. Every man shares the same divine spark and deserves patience.

The Wars in Brief

The invasion of Roman territory was caused by a domino effect. The first phases of the Great Migrations had begun, and the Goths, located in northern Europe, began to move south and west, driving other Germanic tribes out of their homeland. With no other choice, the Germans crossed the Roman borders of the Rhine and Danube rivers. In AD 166, the Lombards raided the Roman province of Pannonia, modern Austria, Hungary, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Croatia. These were driven back by local forces, and the Marcomannic king Ballomar acted as a mediator between Rome and the German tribes. Marcus Aurelius attempted to launch a punitive invasion in AD 167, but had to delay a year due to the ravages of the Antonine Plague.

In AD 168, the Roman punitive expedition was launched into Pannonia, and the Marcomanni and others were forced to withdraw in the face of overwhelming Roman might. The Romans returned to winter quarters, and the emperor Lucius Verus died early in AD 169, leaving Marcus Aurelius as the sole ruler.

The next target of Roman wrath were the Iazyges. To fund the expedition, Marcus Aurelius was forced to auction off pieces of Imperial property as an alternative to raising taxes, which underscores the shaky foundation of the Roman system in the wake of the Antonine Plague. While occupied with the Iazyges, the border defenses were spread thin, and barbarians invaded Roman territory in Thrace, though they were repulsed. Of more concern was a massive invasion that crossed the Danube and crushed a Roman detachment of 20,000 men at Carnuntum, a major border fortress. They pushed south and reached Italy. This was the first invasion of Italy since the Cimbri in 101 BC. Marcus Aurelius devoted all his attention to defeating this threat, pulling troops from other frontiers.

The invasion was defeated in AD 171, and peace treaties were established with the various Germanic and Sarmatian tribes. The next year, Rome invaded Marcomanni territory, delivering a decisive defeat.

The Miracle of the Rain

In AD 172, the most dramatic episode of the Marcomanni Wars took place. The Quadi had violated the terms of their treaty, and a punitive expedition was launched. During this campaign, the XII legion found itself surrounded on a high plain and unable to break through. It was the middle of summer, and the scorching temperatures were causing the Romans to fall victim to heat and thirst. The Quadi outnumbered them and had cut them off from any water supply. Too weak to break through, hope was quickly fading from the Romans, who would soon be forced to surrender. Just when all seemed lost, something miraculous happened.

Seemingly out of nowhere, clouds gathered, and a massive downpour fell on the trapped Romans. The legionaries collected water in their helmets, their shields, and any other container they could find, even lifting their faces to the heavens and catching the water directly in their mouths. The Quadi launched an assault while the Romans were distracted, and the legion fought and drank at the same time. Rather than being overwhelmed by the numbers, another miracle saved the Romans. Lightning fell from the sky, killing and driving back the Quadi, though not a single bolt fell on the trapped legion. Thrown into confusion, the Quadi were forced to withdraw, and the XII legion managed to escape.

The Roman historian Cassius Dio attributed the event to the efforts of an Egyptian magician who served in the legion, stating he invoked the god Mercury to save the Romans. The Miracle of the Rains, as it became known, was also commemorated on the triumphal column of Marcus Aurelius, which shows the trapped legionaries being aided by a sky deity, probably Jupiter Pluvius. In stark contrast, Christian writers, specifically Tertullian, stated that they were saved thanks to the prayers of Christian soldiers in the army.  No matter the reason, the event was a powerful propaganda symbol that was used to show divine favor.

The Column of Marcus Aurelius

The Miracle of the Rain, along with other scenes from the war are commemorated on the Column of Marcus Aurelius. Modeled after the more famous Trajan’s Column, this marble monument was completed in AD 193. It stands just under one hundred feet in height, though there may have been a statue at the top increasing the height further. Twenty-one carved reliefs spiral. In addition to the written sources, the column provides a glimpse into the Marcomannic Wars. Each shows some aspect of the war, such as treacherous river crossings, decisive sieges, open field battles, and is a primary source depicting the weapons, armor, and equipment used by the combatants.

Though it is based on Trajan’s column, there are some significant differences. The figures are carved more deeply, which accentuates the shadows they cast, making them appear more visually striking and have much more of a sense of dynamism than Trajan’s. The heads of the figures are also disproportionately large, so their expressions are easier to see and interpret. Also, unlike Trajan’s Column, the Column of Marcus Aurelius is not in chronological order, and the exact events shown and the historical events they correspond is debated, though the Miracle of the Rain is a featured scene. Another difference is the subject matter. The Column of Marcus Aurelius is much more violent and brutal, openly depicting the burning of civilian settlements and the execution of prisoners of war.

The more violent images may shed light on how Rome viewed the conflicts. The Marcomannic Wars were defensive in nature, and instead of conquering new territory, the Romans were forced to act defensively.  Angered by what they perceived as a betrayal, they were much more ruthless and more comfortable depicting their enemies being slaughtered. Italy itself was threatened, and the aura of Roman territorial inviolability was broken. Rome was psychologically scarred by the event and was perhaps using the aggressive imagery as a way to regain lost confidence.

Pyrrhic Victories and Succession Issues

After the Miracle of the Rain, the First Marcomannic War continued, with each year bringing new incursions by barbarian tribes that were repulsed or Roman punitive expeditions. Many Germanic tribes were defeated and forced to turn over hostages or serve in the Roman military as auxiliaries. The Sarmatian tribes were also defeated and were forced to provide auxiliaries, many of whom were sent to Britannia, and may have been the seed of the Arthurian myths. In AD 176, Marcus Aurelius and his son Commodus celebrated a triumph in Rome, marking the end of the First Marcomannic War.

The next year, the Marcomanni and the Quadi rebelled, and Marcus Aurelius gathered an army for the operation against them. He spent the next three years campaigning, with the decisive clash occurring at Laugarici, now modern-day Trencin, Slovakia. At this battle, the Quadi were defeated, with the survivors finished off by forces under the Praetorian Prefect.

Shortly after this victory, Marcus Aurelius died at the Roman fortress of Vindobona, now Vienna. He was succeeded by Commodus, who was uninterested in the war, and returned home to celebrate a triumph, ending the Second Marcomannic War. There were other sporadic conflicts, which saw Romans fighting against the Iazyges and the Buri, as well as Dacians outside of Roman control. It ended with a Roman victory, and Commodus gave himself the title of Germanicus Maximus.

When Marcus Aurelius died, the imperial throne passed to his biological son, Commodus, for only the second time in Roman history; the first being Titus. Under the Antonines, the practice had been for emperors to handpick their successors, usually from among their close family, but they prioritized suitability over biology. This resulted in elderly men “adopting” middle-aged men with proven track records to succeed them, which worked well for more than half a century. Marcus Aurelius’ decision to elevate his young son, just 18 years old in AD 180, to the imperial throne was baffling to later historians. Even in his youth, it was apparently clear that Commodus was erratic and did not have the temperament for rule. Nevertheless, he was named Caesar and co-emperor in AD 177, ensuring his succession on his father’s death

It is unknown why Commodus was chosen instead of a man with more experience. Perhaps Marcus Aurelius thought that Rome needed a youthful leader, or other rivals to power threatened civil conflict. Or perhaps the old emperor bought into traditional Roman ideas around family honor and hereditary succession. Whatever the reason, this is often considered a turning point in Rome’s fortunes.

Legacy of the Marcomannic Wars

When the wars were finally over, Rome was forced to take stock. While it had triumphed over its enemies, Rome was forced to fight defensively, giving up the vital initiative to the enemy. After years of bloody fighting, Rome did not achieve great wealth or territorial gains, their only prize was survival. This, combined with the Antonine Plague, deeply scarred the Roman psyche. In more practical terms, it revealed that Rome had become complacent and their borders, especially along the Danube and Rhine frontiers, were vulnerable. The Empire reorganized its defenses, and around half of its legions were deployed along this border. This barbarian invasion was a dress rehearsal for the Great Migrations of the 4th and 5th centuries AD that eventually overran Rome.

Politically, the wars marked the end of the Pax Romana, as centuries of stability were broken and Italy was revealed to be vulnerable. The rise of Commodus also marked the end of political stability. The unpredictable emperor was assassinated, creating a power vacuum that saw a rapid succession of emperors. This instability would culminate a few decades later with the Crisis of the Third Century, a tumultuous time of near constant civil wars, power grabs, insurrections, and economic and cultural decay.

Though he spent most of his reign fighting barbarians on the front line, Marcus Aurelius was at best a reluctant warrior. His true passion was philosophy, and even on campaign, he devoted much of his time to studying and writing. His Meditations were shaped by the soldier’s camp more than a marble palace, and give insight into a man out of his element. Time and again, he reminds himself not to worry too far into the future, and to focus on the here and now, and only to worry about what he can control. It is a testament to his character that he led Rome through one of her most chaotic hours with his posthumous reputation intact.

In ancient Mesopotamia, magic was considered commonplace and was inseparable from religion, politics, and daily customs. Unlike today, magic was not seen as “other,” but essential for the functioning of society. This was true for all the various city-states and empires that flourished in Mesopotamia across its 3,000 years of history. This article explores the types of spells and rituals that characterized magic in ancient Mesopotamia.

A Rational World View

In ancient Mesopotamia, magic and spells were considered a normal part of religion and were integrated into daily customs. Polytheists, people could call on a variety of gods through spells and rituals, though the patron deity of an individual city was chiefly honored.

Unlike ancient Egyptian religion, which was built around the predictability of the life-giving Nile flood, Mesopotamian cosmology was shaped by the instability of life in the ancient Near East. Whether conditions were harsh, harvests irregular, wild animals threatening, and there was often armed conflict between people. There, it is not surprising that their pantheon was occupied by both gods and demons, connected with nature and the other unpredictable elements of life in the region. While the gods were often anthropomorphic, they could also appear as mythical beasts that embodied aspects of the animals in the region, including lions, snakes, and birds of prey.

Dark Magic

While magic was often used for purposes such as protection, healing, and divination, it could also have a darker tone. Curses, known as māmītu, were also common. For example, they are often found inscribed on tablets to deter theft from temples or libraries. Curses were seen as spiritual or social justice that arose from broken oaths or divine anger. They could cause illness or encourage demonic attacks that could result in personal ruin.

The “Curse of Akkad” was a didactic text that explained how curses worked. It describes how Naram-Sin, the king of Agade, wanted to build a temple. He received bad omens from the gods, but in his arrogance, he built the temple anyway, plundering a temple of the god Enlil in the process. Enraged, Enlil cursed Naram-Sin and his people, sending a barbarian tribe to attack them. To save all of Mesopotamia from being destroyed by the barbarians, the other gods placed a curse on Agade that it should never be rebuilt.

Curses violated cosmic order and required complex rituals to counteract them. Everything from everyday objects to major deities could be invoked to thwart malicious magic.

Pazuzu was one of ancient Mesopotamia’s most feared yet protective demons. Depicted with a dog-like face, talons, and scorpion tail, he embodied the destructive desert winds that brought famine and disease. Despite his terrifying form, Pazuzu was invoked to repel more fearful forces, such as the demon Lamashtu, who was associated with infant deaths. Amulets and figurines bearing his image were placed in homes or worn by pregnant women to protect against supernatural harm.

The Udug or Utukku were a general subset of Mesopotamian demons. They were most prominent in causing disease, but unlike Pazuzu, they were inherently evil. In Mesopotamian mythology, the Udug are frequently associated with the underworld and feature in the myth of “Inanna’s Descent to the Underworld.”

Accusations of Witchcraft

While cursing temple thieves was considered a legitimate and even favorable use of magic, malicious magic was considered witchcraft. This kind of harmful magic was seen as a direct threat to the cosmic order and a danger to communities. Therefore, accusations of witchcraft were taken very seriously. Suspected witches were typically outcasts within their communities, often foreigners and poor women who were believed to wield destructive power motivated by malice.

Legal codes, notably the laws of Hammurabi, addressed such dangers through trial by ordeal, in which survival after being thrown in the sacred river signified innocence. If they died, the accuser took the defendant’s assets. If they survived, the accused had to hand over their own property to the alleged witch.

Practitioners and Tools

While we cannot say for certain, it seems that most people in ancient Mesopotamia performed magic to a degree. Ordinary people were mainly focused on protection from bad spirits, illness, and the difficulties with their local environment. One of the most common practices was to wear amulets and talismans to protect against demons.

Many amulets depicted protective deities designed to ward off dangerous spirits, but they could also show the evil spirits themselves. In this way, the user of the amulet could reduce the demon to a small and more controllable size.

Additionally, ordinary people also performed rituals at home. Spoken incantations and written spells were used to invoke the aid of the gods. There were also folk practices, like tying and untying knots in rope to break suspected curses. Incense was burned to cleanse a space of evil spirits, and blessed waters were used to purify the body of bad energy.

There were also those who trained as magic professionals, mostly selling their services to the wealthy. The Āšipu or exorcists were tasked with relieving illness and countering malevolent spirits. Bārû were diviners. They usually trained from a young age, and the profession was inherited within noble families. They interpreted omens through animal livers, dreams, and celestial signs, or through oil in water and smoke patterns. Due to their profession, the Bārû were required to be in good health, or it was apparent they had lost favor with the gods.

Protective Magic

Wearable talismans and amulets were not the only way ordinary people could use magic to protect themselves against evil forces. Clay figurines were an integral part of protective magic. Usually, they portrayed deities or powerful animals and were hidden under doorways to defend the home from demons. The figurines were also placed in liminal spaces like the corners of rooms and other areas where evil spirits were thought to be able to enter.

Within the royal palace, priests also hid clay figurines beneath floors and thresholds to block malevolent forces. Nevertheless, protective magic in the royal household was much more extensive and relied on a dense network of apotropaic beings and rituals.

Neo‑Assyrian kings filled their palaces with monumental lamassu and other hybrid guardian figures believed to repel supernatural threats and secure the stability of the throne. These installations worked continuously, creating a magically fortified environment that safeguarded the king’s body, household, and reign.

Priests also resided within the palace, including some Bārû and Āšipu. The king himself was considered a divine representative and was therefore in constant need of supernatural protection from evil spirits who wanted to put him in harm’s way and plunge his kingdom into chaos. Spells and prayers were often used in conjunction with physical objects and ritual practices by priests to ensure the king’s success and longevity.

Magic and the State

Magic was also political, and deeply embedded in the structures of governance. The king’s power was considered the manifestation of divine will, and maintaining the favor of the gods maintained political stability. Especially in Babylon and Assyria, the living ruler was considered the tool of the gods on earth.

Magic enabled communication between the king and the divine, though trained experts such as the Bārû and Āšipu who served the royal court. As well as interpreting omens to assign the support of the gods to the acts of the kings, they also engaged in rituals such as symbolically destroying an enemy’s power through iconography and incantations.

When wide-reaching emergencies such as natural disasters, military defeats, or political unrest occurred, magical divination provided both an explanation, typically divine displeasure, and guidance on how to restore cosmic and civic order.

Healing and Medical Magic

Magic was often used for healing. Remedies rested on the belief that sickness came from divine displeasure, demons, or restless ghosts, making medicine and magic inseparable. Treatment required both an Asû, an equivalent to physicians, who applied herbs, poultices, oils, and bandages, and an Ašipu, who confronted the supernatural forces behind the illness through spells and ritual.

Incantations invoked deities such as Gula or Marduk to lift curses or reverse divine punishment. Spoken spells were believed to activate the potency of medicinal substances.

Surgeons, dentists, and even veterinarians operated within this same spiritual framework, understanding themselves as instruments of the gods. Diagnosis framed every ailment as the work of a deity or demon, meaning that recovery required not only physical treatment but confession, ritual cleansing, and renewed piety. In this system, healing was a holistic negotiation between body, spirit, and the divine order.

Love and Fertility

Magic was fundamental to attract and maintain a desired partner in ancient Mesopotamia. Correspondingly, magic surrounding fertility and love centered on influencing lust and securing affection under the protection of powerful deities. Ritual specialists used incantations and sympathetic magic, especially small clay figurines, to symbolically connect two people.

Spells frequently invoked Inanna or Ishtar, the goddess of fertility and lust, whose power influenced sexual vitality. A key element of fertility magic was to draw on agricultural metaphors, specifically a god plowing the fertile earth. Magic was also used in agriculture, shaping how farmers protected their fields and secured abundance within an unpredictable environment. As the land was seen as divine, every stage of cultivation required ritual support alongside practical irrigation and labor.

Farmers performed incantations and offerings to gods like Ninurta to ensure healthy crops, while namburbi rituals were used to avert evil omens that threatened harvests. Magical protections guarded stored grain from pests, and seasonal festivals marked key agricultural milestones in the year, connecting the community to the rhythms of nature. Myths such as the “Tale of Enki and Ninhursag” reinforced the belief that agriculture itself originated through divine intervention, reinforcing the concept that magic was an essential tool in farming.

Mesopotamia’s Magical Legacy

Mesopotamian magical traditions influenced later Near Eastern and Mediterranean concepts of ritual and divination. Many features of Hebrew ritual culture, namely protective incantations and amulets to repel demonic danger, clearly reflect Mesopotamian practices. The Persians frequently interpreted dreams and exorcised demons. Like the Mesopotamians, the ancient Greeks used animal livers when deciphering the will of their gods. Figurines and binding spells are also attested in the Greek Magical Papyri.

In modern occultism, Mesopotamian deities, especially demons like Pazuzu, have been reinterpreted within ceremonial magic and neopaganism. Although largely transformed, the core Mesopotamian idea that magic mediates between human life and environmental forces has left a lasting impact on contemporary magical customs.

Egypt is home to one of the earth’s most ancient and fascinating civilizations. Occupied continuously since the 4th millennium BC, Egyptian cities have risen and fallen over the millennia. Even the most powerful political, religious, and trading centers of the ancient world have been lost to time. But as archaeologists explore the Egyptian sands and seabeds, they are rediscovering lost cities, revealing new secrets about the ancient Egyptian world. Discover the secrets of five recently rediscovered Egyptian cities.

1. Aten: The Lost Golden City of Luxor

Known as the “lost golden city,” this former capital was named for the Egyptian sun god Aten. Over 3,000 years old, this city is considered one of the biggest archaeological discoveries since the famous tomb of Tutankhamun. As with many significant archaeological finds, Aten was discovered by accident while researchers were looking for a mortuary temple for the famous boy-king. Upon finding the lost city, excavation began in September 2020 near Luxor.

Located near the ancient capital of Thebes, the city dates to the 18th dynasty and the reign of the pharaoh Amenhotep III, as evidenced by inscribed vessels and bricks bearing the pharaoh’s seal. As a pharaoh of the New Kingdom, Amenhotep III ruled during a time of prosperity and power. The excavated neighborhoods show evidence of how life was when the empire was at its wealthiest. The city itself is remarkably well preserved, with complete walls and homes full of relics and tools used in everyday Egyptian life.

Archaeologists have uncovered distinct industrial and living zones. This includes a large bakery and food preparation area with large ovens and storage pottery, capable of catering for hundreds of workers. There are also workshops for casting amulets, metalworking, glass working, and spinning and weaving. An administrative and security quarter was enclosed by unique zigzag walls, a design meant to control entry and exit points through a single gate.

Amenhotep III’s son, Amenhotep IV, better known as Akhenaten, made many changes to Egyptian politics and religion. Known as the rebel or heretic king, Akhenaten restructured the Egyptian pantheon, favoring one deity: the sun god Aten. Akhenaten then abandoned the traditional royal seat at Thebes and the administrative complex in Aten in favor of the newly constructed city of Amarna.

2. Amarna: Akhenaten’s Abandoned Heretic Capital

Located about 400 kilometers north of Luxor on the east bank of the Nile, Amarna was built by Akhenaten around 1348 BC. Amarna was not lost in the physical sense. Researchers have discovered evidence that Amarna was occupied for at least a full generation after Akhenaten’s reign. Eventually, the city was fully abandoned, and villages were established closer to the Nile and on the opposite side of the river.

Akhenaten created the city as a new royal and administrative capital. His purpose was likely to centralize power around himself as the pharaoh and diminish the influence of the power Theben priests of Amun by removing them from the center of power. Excavations at Amarna, starting in the 18th century, uncovered many amazing artifacts, such as the Amarna Letters. Written on clay tablets, these letters are an example of the diplomatic correspondence exchanged between Egypt and neighboring territories during the New Kingdom.

With the freedom to build his new city from scratch, it was built and decorated as a homage to the Aten, the deified sun disk, which Akhenaten embraced as the most important, or perhaps only, god. The new religion also embraced a new artistic style. Rather than always depicting members of the royal family as larger-than-life conquerors or alongside the gods, they appeared in typical scenes of day-to-day life. Also, rather than being presented as physically perfect specimens, the pharaoh has a soft belly and elongated head that distinguishes art from the period. Unlike other temples, the temples in Amarna were roofless, so that the rays of Aten could shine down on the worshippers.

Another significant discovery from Amarna is the famous bust of Queen Nefertiti, wife of Akhenaten. This find is very important because her likeness and story were scrubbed from the record along with that of her controversial husband.

Rather than being lost, the true purpose and history of Amarna were deliberately hidden. Akhenaten’s religious and political reforms were unpopular and were reversed under his son, Tutankhaten, renamed Tutankhamun for the traditional god, under the influence of his advisors. The capital was returned to Thebes. Later, Akhenaten and his successors were carefully erased from recorded history. The Abydos King List set up under Seti I jumps straight from Amenhotep III to Horemheb. Thus, the city of Amarna was lost.

3. Thonis-Heracleion: The Sunken Port of the Mediterranean

Once a center of wealth and culture, the ancient Egyptian city of Heracleion lay submerged at the mouth of the Nile Delta for around 1,500 years. Dating back to the 7th century BC, this port city thrived until it sank into the sea during the 8th century AD. It is thought to have been the largest port on the Mediterranean until Alexandria was founded in 331 BC.

The city was settled by Egyptian and Greek merchants and artisans, as evidenced by the wonderful variety of artifacts recovered from the sunken ruins. A Greek sanctuary devoted to Aphrodite was discovered in Heracleion, full of ceramic and bronze artifacts. Greek weapons were also discovered, thought to have belonged to mercenaries charged with defending the Canopic branch of the Nile.

The ruins of Heracleion are about seven kilometers off the modern-day coast of Egypt, under approximately ten meters of water. Temples and the ruins of other buildings were discovered along with massive statues and luxury items such as jewelry and imported Greek ceramics. A tumulus was also discovered, which is a traditional Greek funerary area.

Archaeologists realized the full scale of this once bustling port city when they discovered walls and canals that transected Heracleion. The city was organized around a central temple, with neighborhoods connected by canals. Around 70 shipwrecks and over 700 ancient boat anchors have been found among the canals.

Over time, the area experienced earthquakes and rising sea levels, which triggered flooding of the land at the mouth of the Nile. In turn, this flooding caused the soil underneath Heracleion to liquify. When the ground became unstable, the heavy stone structures of the city sank into the Mediterranean.

Little information about the ancient port city can be found in surviving historical records, so the scientific community did not know the exact location of Heracleion until the year 2000.

4. Tanis: The Wealthy Delta Capital Hidden in Plain Sight

Made famous by Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, the lost city of Tanis has yielded a tremendous amount of information and dazzling artifacts. However, much of the cinematic depiction of the city is fiction. No Ark of the Covenant or Nazis were involved in the discovery of this lost city.

Located in the northeast Nile River Delta, the ancient city of Tanis was a wealthy center of trade that came to power centuries before Alexandria was founded. During ancient Egypt’s 21st and 22nd dynasties, Tanis also served as the royal seat for Lower Egypt. Meanwhile, the priests of Amun controlled the south from Thebes. The Tanis pharaohs are also known as the Libyan or Bubastite Dynasty, because these rulers were descended from Meshwesh Libyan military commanders who settled in the Delta.

Archaeologists began to excavate Tanis in the 19th century, and in 1939, a spectacular royal tomb complex was discovered. This remarkable find included intact burial chambers that were undisturbed for nearly 3,000 years. Temples, residential complexes, and a wealth of artifacts were found during subsequent excavations. Some of the most remarkable artifacts were recovered from the tombs, including elaborate sarcophagi, golden masks, jewelry, and luxurious ceramics. Another notable discovery was the burial chamber of King Sheshonq II, whose name and story were lost until archaeologists found his tomb.

Tanis rose during a time when political power was divided. Over time, power became consolidated, and the capital of Lower Egypt was eventually abandoned in favor of Memphis. The structures of the once bustling and wealthy city were obscured by sand and silt as the Nile River eventually shifted.

5. Abydos: The Sacred City of Osiris and Early Kings

Abydos is probably best known as home to the iconic temple of Seti I. Located in Upper Egypt, the city has long been a sacred site. It served as a necropolis for Egyptian royalty predating the 1st dynasty. The tombs have revealed spectacular artifacts and inscriptions that have provided information relating to Egypt’s predynastic period. Archaeologists discovered 14 wooden boats buried in brick graves near the tombs, intended to transport pharaohs in the afterlife.

Intact ceramic vessels have revealed names of predynastic kings and evidence that Egypt’s written language advanced earlier than previously thought by historians.

The famous temple of Seti I, constructed during the New Kingdom, is one of the most significant of all ancient Egyptian sites. At over 3,000 years old, this magnificent limestone structure opens into an iconic pillared hall and houses several courtyards and intricately decorated chapels. The chapel walls are particularly significant to the historical record, as their carvings depict important funerary scenes. It also contains the Abydos King List, listing 76 previous pharaohs and helping secure our understanding of the Egyptian timeline.

Also discovered in the ancient necropolis was an industrial-scale brewery thought to be the oldest in the world. Researchers estimate that this production center is 5,000 years old and was capable of brewing nearly 6,000 gallons of beer at a time. Tomb inscriptions show that the beer was used in funerary rituals performed in Abydos.

Over time, pharaohs shifted their funerary preferences and began building tombs closer to their royal seats. While kings were no longer buried in Abydos, the city was a place of pilgrimage for the cult of Osiris, the god of the Egyptian underworld and the gateway to the afterlife. Abydos became the destination for a yearly religious procession, as it was believed that Osiris was buried at Abydos. The necropolis grew, as more chapels and tombs were built by Egyptian nobles who wished to be buried near Osiris.

Carthage was one of the most important city-states in the ancient Mediterranean. The Phoenician city in North Africa built up a significant trading empire, which would eventually bring it into conflict with Rome. Under their infamous general Hannibal, they almost brought down the Romans, before being destroyed by Rome in 146 BC. According to legend, Carthage was founded by a queen named Dido, whom the poet Virgil connected with Aeneas, the ancestor of the Romans; he also linked the long-lasting enmity between the two peoples to their love story. But how did this Phoenician queen from Tyre establish a new city in far-off Tunisia? And does she belong to the pages of history, or was she a fictional character?

Dido, Princess of Tyre

According to tradition, Dido was the daughter of the king of Tyre, a prominent city-state in Phoenicia. Her father’s name appears variously as Mutto, Meton, Mettenos, or even Belus, depending on the source. As she grew up, this princess of Tyre faced some very difficult circumstances. After her father’s death, Dido’s brother, Pygmalion, became the king of Tyre. Dido, meanwhile, married her uncle Acerbas.

Rumors circulated that Acerbas possessed a vast amount of hidden wealth, prompting Pygmalion to have him murdered in an attempt to acquire it for himself. Dido evidently realized that she was in a dangerous position, so she started planning her escape. She pretended that she wanted to move into Pygmalion’s palace. However, when servants arrived to help her move, she got them to throw the bags, which allegedly contained Acerbas’ treasure, into the sea as an offering. At that, she fled Tyre. She was accompanied by these same servants, as well as several leaders of the city.

At first, Dido and her companions arrived at Cyprus. Her party kidnapped many prostitutes to provide wives for the men, in a story similar to the Abduction of the Sabine Women from Roman history. They then continued on and eventually arrived at what is now Tunisia in North Africa.

Dido Arrives in North Africa

According to the early account of Timaeus of Tauromenium in Sicily (c. 356–260 BC), which is now lost and preserved as quotes in other sources, once in North Africa, Dido encountered the local king named Iarbas. She requested permission to establish a temporary settlement on a piece of land small enough to be encompassed by an oxhide. She gave no indication that she was intending to found a permanent town or city. When Iarbas approved her request, she cut the oxhide into a very thin strip and used it to encircle a small hill. This became the foundation of Carthage. This story is echoed in Ivar the Boneless’s foundation of Viking York, again highlighting historical parallels.

In establishing the foundation of the city, which is traditionally dated to 814 BC, two interesting events occurred. At first, the workers uncovered an ox’s skull in the ground. This was taken as a bad omen, an indication that the city would become subject to others. Therefore, the workers moved to a different area of the hill to continue digging a foundation. There, they found a horse’s skull, which was interpreted as a good omen, indicating that it would become a powerful city.

The legend goes on to tell of how Iarbas began to desire Dido. He proposed marriage in exchange for helping build up her new town into a truly powerful city. Dido pretended to entertain this marriage offer, but first expressed a desire to offer some sacrifices in honor of her late husband, Acerbas. However, she instead killed herself with a sword to be reunited with him in the afterlife. She was then declared a god and worshipped by the Carthaginians.

Archaeological Evidence for the Foundation of Carthage

Was Queen Dido of Carthage a real person? There are no contemporary records that mention her. The earliest references to Dido come from many centuries after Carthage was founded. Therefore, we cannot definitely say that she was historical. But is there archaeological evidence to support her story?

There is a major discrepancy between the date for the foundation of Carthage suggested by Dido’s story and the archaeology. According to archaeology, there was no settlement at Carthage prior to c. 750 BC, 65 years after the date suggested by Dido’s story.

A Date for Dido: The Tyrian King List

However, it is also possible that the traditional date given for Dido in the ancient sources is simply incorrect, as the ancients were known to exaggerate the antiquity of many events. But the date for Dido seems to be supported by the Tyrian King List.

The Jewish historian Josephus, writing in approximately 100 AD, used the work of a historian called Menander of Ephesus from the 2nd century BC to compile a list of kings of Tyre, from the time of the Israelite King David down to the foundation of Carthage. He tells us that Dido founded Carthage 155 years after the reign of King Hiram, a contemporary of David and Solomon. This would place Dido firmly in the 9th century BC, matching the traditional date rather than the archaeological date.

However, his date for Dido relies on the accuracy of the king list. Recall that Dido’s father is variously called Mutto, Meton, and Mettenos in the sources. Likewise, Josephus calls Dido’s father Matgenus. Scholars suggest that this name likely preserves folk memories of a Tyrian king named Matan or Metenna, who is mentioned in Assyrian documents as living during the reign of the Assyrian king Tiglath-Peleser III, which was between 744-727 BC.

While there is no archaeological confirmation that a Tyrian king named Mattan existed in the 9th century BC, this Assyrian record confirms that Tyre had a king by that name in the following century. Therefore, it is plausible that Dido was the daughter of this later king. Likely then, the king list provided by Menander of Ephesus was accidentally shortened, perhaps due to repetitions of names within dynasties. Perhaps there really was an earlier king named Mattan, and he was mistakenly conflated with the Mattan of the 8th century BC, thus eliminating the intervening generations.

Whatever the case, we have clear archaeological evidence for the date of Carthage’s foundation and the confirmation of a king of Tyre named Mattan living in that same era. This suggests that if Dido existed, she lived in the 8th century BC.

Virgil’s Dido

While a historical queen of Carthage named Dido may have existed, Virgil, while ostensibly telling the story of the history of Rome, adds layers of fiction to her story. Virgil repeats the story of Dido leaving Tyre and founding Carthage with minor differences, but the most important part of his story is the arrival of Aeneas and his followers in Carthage.

Aeneas, who is destined to lead his people to Italy, stays in Carthage because he and Dido fell in love thanks to the influence of Juno and Venus (Hera and Aphrodite). Dido had previously spurned Iarbas’s advances, and when he hears of the new love affair, he prays to his father, Jupiter Ammon, for vengeance. In response, Jupiter (Zeus) sends his son Mercury (Hermes) to encourage Aeneas to continue on his journey to Italy.

In her sorrow at Aeneas’ departure, she asked her sister to make a pyre of all the things that reminded her of Aeneas. Beside the pyre, she watches Aeneas and his fleet leave, cursing him and proclaiming that there will be endless hate between the people of Carthage and the descendants of the Trojans, setting up the ongoing conflict between Rome and Carthage. She then kills herself on the funeral pyre.

It is clear that Virgil has inserted his hero Aeneas into the existing story of Dido. He may also have added other motifs. For example, there is no other mention of Dido’s self-immolation in earlier texts, but the last queen of Carthage, the wife of Hasdrubal the Boetharch, killed herself in this way in 146 BC. Virgil could have added the scene to draw a parallel. Virgil also describes Aeneas visiting the underworld and meeting Dido. He tries to speak to her and express his deep remorse, but she turns away from him to the grove where her former husband waits.

Moreover, if Aeneas did really survive the Trojan War and then lead his people to Italy in a journey that took seven years, this would have been in the 12th century BC, centuries before the foundation of Carthage.

The Truth About Queen Dido of Carthage

So, what do we really know about Queen Dido of Carthage? According to legend, she was a princess of Tyre and the founder of Carthage. While the traditional sources suggest that she did this in the 9th century BC, archaeology and Assyrian sources suggest that it may have happened in the 8th century BC. This is not an irreconcilable difference, and Greek and Roman authors were in the habit of exaggerating the antiquity of people and events.

However, the version of Dido told by Virgil in his Aeneid must be fictional, as the Trojan prince reportedly lived in the 12th century BC. When comparing his account with other sources, it also feels clear that Virgil inserted his hero Aeneas into existing stories about the Carthaginian queen.