Salvete, everyone! I hope you're enjoying the dog days of summer. This week I have the joy of introducing you to a very special friend of mine. Silvia Prosperi is a modern-day Roman! She was born and raised in the city and knows it like the back of her hand. She has assisted me with research, with seeing specific sites (I'll let her tell you more about that herself), and has given me much insight as to how the late Republican Forum was arranged. So hang on to your arm-chairs, because we're taking a virtual visit to Italy!
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One of the concepts I often find myself conveying to my guests during my tours in Rome (where I’ve  worked as a tour guide for 11 years) is that Rome today is just a city, but in the ancient times it was “an idea”.

Rome started as a city and extended well beyond its borders enlarging the idea itself of Rome. When a Roman citizen was in Spain or Syria, for instance, he was not feeling like a stranger and needed no “passport”, all these far Provinces were in fact still Rome to him.

The aspect of these cities and countries was in fact not too different from the capital he had left several weeks earlier: fora, baths, cobbled roads, aqueducts, theatres and amphitheatres, “tabernae” and the domus could be found everywhere, and also coins and languages were the same as he’d use at home. The first globalized world!

One weird consequence of this fact is that many “roman” emperors where in fact not born in Rome. Caludius for instance, was born in France, in modern Lyon, at the time called Lugdunum, while Trajan and Hadrian were from Spain. And what about Septimius Severus, who was from Leptis Magna, in current Libya, and consequently not white, but African? But they were not seen as “imposters”, they were Romans to all intents and purposes!
 
Another side effect of this globalized concept is that you do not find roman buildings only in Rome, but in many other countries. And obviously it is easy to “find Rome” just outside its walls, as I like to do with my guests when Rome is too crowded (though it’s not been a problem this summer of 2020—but usually it is!) 

Here is a list of my ten favorite spots, where we're headed, right now, for a quick virtual tour:
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​Appian Way: just outside the Aurelian Walls you’ll find seven miles of preserved ancient road surrounded by important Roman remains, above and underground. The stadium of Maxentius, the mausoleum of Caecilia Metella, Christian and Jewish catacombs are just some of the attractions of this open air museum, and I like to reach them by horse, totally forgetting about modernity.

​Park of the Aqueducts:  a little further on the way south of Rome you start seeing the arches of five ancient aqueducts scattered in the fields which is now a public park. It is amazing how runners and picnic sets live side by side, next to amazing structures of the first century BC and AD, one of the best legacies the Romans left us.

​“Castelli Romani”: the Appian way takes you straight into a series of hilly towns that ancient Romans liked for breezes during the summer. An ancient theatre in abandoned Tusculum (photo at right), the sanctuary dedicated to the goddess Diana on Lake Nemi, the castra and water tanks in Albano are all traces of the Roman past here.

​Hadrian’s Villa: on the eastern side of Rome you find the important town of Tivoli, famous for its travertine quarries still mined today (the blocks used to build the Colosseum came from here) and for the huge villa the emperor Hadrian built for himself to manage the Empire in a more relaxing environment.

Tiberius’ villa: going south you reach Sperlonga, where another emperor, Tiberius, prepared a wonderful residence directly on the Tyrrhenian sea. A summer triclinium (a banqueting hall) was created inside a grotto decorated with statues of Ulysses. Not far from Sperlonga, lies the town of Terracina dominated by the remains of the panoramic temple of Jupiter Anxur. The main piazza of the city is still the original marble pavement of the ancient forum and you can sit there at a table for gelato or a cup of coffee. 

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​Norba: this is a hidden jewel, a republican city destroyed during the civil war between Marius and Sulla and consequently abandoned. It dominates the valley over the Pontine Plain and a sense of archaic atmosphere surrounds you. 

​Subiaco: this town is more famous for its medieval history, since saint Benedict founded his order here and its first monastery. But you’ll also find the remains of a villa built by Nero and you can literally walk *inside* a Roman aqueduct, the Aqua Claudia. Amazing!

​Privernum: another town along the Appian Way, not very famous, but interesting because the excavations are still in progress and there’s an opportunity to take an active part in the archeological digging during certain times of the year. We call this project “archaeologist for a day” and we cooperate with the archeologists there to provide an incredible experience for our guests. 

Ventotene: the little island on the Pontine archipelago (near the more famous Ponza) is the site were Julia, the daughter of Octavian Augustus was confined in exile for five years. She was just the first of a series of “undesired” women of power: Scribonia, Agrippina Maiora, Octavia (the first wife of Nero). Of course, the prison was in fact a luxurious villa whose remains are still visible today. We often arrange sailing cruises lasting a few days, to explore this archipelago and enjoy this crystal clear sea at the same time.

Welcome to the blog this week, readers! It's great to have everyone back and there will still be one final installment on Roman Music in August. Before we dive into ancient woodwinds, I will be starting a longer series of blogs on my upcoming and final novel in the Antonius Trilogy starting in the third week of August. I'm looking forward to sharing more about my upcoming book and hope you'll join me in learning more regarding Marcus Antonius and the final years of his life--especially with Cleopatra!

So let's get started with ancient woodwinds! As a woodwind player, I've always had a passion for flutes and recorders. I'm a professional recorderist (there aren't many of us around!) and so Early Music is especially near and dear to my heart. 

First of all, there are several types of ancient woodwinds--and all of them were used in the Roman period, as well as before, in other cultures. However, some were more commonly used in Roman times, so we'll be addressing them. Transverse flutes, like the one in the picture at right, were held to the side. Sometimes, as on orchestral flutes today, one blew across a hole the way you would across the top of a bottle. On others, there may have been a small mouthpiece--again, as in the picture provided. This photo, by the way, is of Walter Maioli, founder of the musical group Synaulia. This week, I'm featuring some of their music as samples. For those who haven't yet read my first post in this series, Roman Music: Lost Melodies, be sure to do so, as you can learn more about Walter Maioli, who has recreated instruments from antiquity, learned to play them at a virtuoso level, and has spent years studying and learning more about the ancient world's music. 

 
​In my first week's installment, I mentioned that music in general was used in many ways in the Roman world. Religious rituals and ceremonies often featured music. In the lovely fresco from Herculaneum, an Isiac cult ceremony was being held. Use of sistra (rattles associated with the Egyptian goddess Isis) can be seen, held by priests at the top of the stairs to the Temple. At the bottom of the stairs, seated off to the right is a musician playing a flute. ​I've provided a close-up (bottom right) to take a closer look. The instrument appears to be played recorder-style, the mouthpiece being at the end. Though it's difficult to tell in the picture, the player's left hand could be manipulating cymbalum (finger-cymbals). If this is the case, then the single flute was likely a drone, which I'll be introducing momentarily when we begin discussing tibae. What's important to understand, is that there were already all sorts of flute-like instruments. This truly wonderful piece of art has been interpreted by some to have been a water ceremony, featuring actual water from the Nile River, considered to be sacred. Notice the movements of the worshippers... actually similar to Christians lifting their hands in praise. I love the birds strutting about in front of the altar--Egyptian ibses, of course--more Isiac symbolism.

The tibia impares (tibiae of two different lengths) are shown in the photo at right. Again, take another look at the Isiac musician. Though it's difficult to discern, he might be playing the drone of this instrument, or half of it--just the drone. Again, the tibia impares in this Synaulia recording is a double-reed flute, so that's what gives it a rather nasal sound. In fact in the sample, it sounds almost bagpipe-like: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=23iaAJAjBzs
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​Most of Maioli's "work" in the recording was done with his right hand on, which played most of the melody, while the left hand drones on the longer of the flutes. Oh, and by the way--there was an actual Latin term for a tibia player--a tibicin (pl. tibicines).

This next "woodwind" may surprise you. All woodwinds require a pipe or bore through which air passes. The size/shape of the pipe creates a certain pitch, either by its size or by covering holes drilled into a bore.

The ancient hydraulis (water organ) was a piped instrument, and yes, both water and air controlled its sound production, which, I might add, may have been more accurate than one can imagine. And based on size, the volume would have varied. 

The instrument to the left in the photo produced sound, but was but a replica of a small hydraulis discovered in eastern Europe that dated from around the 3rd century AD. And yes, that's my hand on the tiny keyboard, which worked exactly like a keyboard today, except that it was pitched according to Greek modes instead of the pentatonic or diatonic scale. 

Vitruvius tried his best to describe the mechanics of one of these babies, and even he struggled--a man trusted by Julius Caesar to construct his army's bridges: "I have striven to the best of my ability to describe clearly in writing a complicated machine. The task is not an easy one, nor accessible to the general understanding, except for those who have experience in matters of this kind. Yet if anyone grasps them imperfectly from my writings, a knowledge of the instrument will disclose the ingenuity and precision of its design." Vitruvius. De Arch.10.8.6.

It's a known fact that the hydraulis was used in gladiatorial games. Why were they used? Did people simply enjoy them playing tunes between matches, similar to organ music at baseball games today? If one of these instruments was large enough, it could have muffled "unsavory sounds such as screams of dying victims in gladiatorial games." Courtney, 2003. We may never know the draw, but Roman art testifies to the instrument's popularity during Roman games.

Next week, we have another guest blogger, who I'm excited to introduce to you. Silvia Prosperi, a native of Rome, will be sharing some of her favorite historical sites. So for those of you looking to travel once it's safe to do so, or simply interested in virtual travel, you'll love reading what she has prepared for us. In two weeks, I'll be preparing a special blog on brass instruments and music of the Roman military. Until then, I wish everybody a great week ahead. READ ON!!!

I hope everybody is ready for some history about ancient instruments. And I hope you'll also take time to listen to some of the fantastic sounds from them, too. 

​The first thing I'd like to do is share a bit about lyres. Along with harps, they're the most ancient stringed instruments. The cithara, which I want to focus on this week, had many lyre-like ancestors: the phorminx, barbitos, sambuca, and pandura, to name a few. They were made of many different materials, and I want to share several. Keep in mind that unlike the fabulous brand names we enjoy like Steinway, Yamaha, Gibson, or Fender, ancient instruments were custom designed and never made in mass quantities, as most instruments are today. Every single instrument in the ancient world was unique. Therefore, they probably weren't always tuned the same way and could be in various sizes and shapes which would also effect tuning and pitch. 

So let's start with one that's really old. I'm talking Mesopotamian "old"! This silver lyre (at right) was found in 1929 in what was once Ur. It dates from the 3rd millennium B.C. and was made of wood, covered in silver plate. Truly, it was a lyre fit for royalty. It even had some inlaid stones and you can see the lovely bull's head on one end. I have a dated but excellent recording I want to share with you of Peter Pringle playing a reproduction of this very instrument. Though it's such a primitive lyre, look what CAN be done on it! I guess it's all about a master's touch: ​https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JU4QRxsZhjg

Let's move on to Greece. Musicians there often gave their instruments more resonance by using a concave sounding board, so pitches would resonate against it... much like one's voice on the walls of a cave give the voice such a "live" quality, acoustically. Some of these soundboards were made from actual tortoise shells. 

The sample on the left in the photo is not a real tortoise shell, but a copy of one, carved in limestone. It's not known whether this shell was actually used as part an instrument, but it does have drilled holes which would have supported the other components of the lyre. If it was part of an actual lyre, it must have been heavy to manipulate!

Let's listen to musician Michael Levy perform on his reproduced tortoise-shell lyre. And again, in comparison to the Mesopotamian lyre, it echos with resonance and doesn't sound quite as twangy and flat. The name of this piece is Ode To Aphrodite: youtu.be/zoo-sJaLEh8?list=TLPQMTkwNzIwMjAeCZs8thpomg

I have seen plenty of Hellenistic depictions of the cithara. Thus, it was used by the Greeks before the Romans. However, according to what is depicted in their art, the Romans appeared to have embraced it more than the lyre. In fact, for the first time, the cithara (which I like to think of as the ancient guitar) began to take on a more standard appearance.

While working on my Masters' thesis, I learned that the cithara was an instrument of elegance:
    Only very wealthy Romans would have been able to own such an instrument, and probably few musicians did. Instead of a  simple frame, the cithara had intricate, decorative moldings, especially near the strings. (Courtney, 2003)

The cithara wasn't a street instrument, but one associated with haute culture. Typically, a well-trained and higher paid citharista was hired for banquets, wedding feasts, or to give lessons within a wealthy household. In my thesis, I touched upon the social attitudes attributed to women players in particular:
 Roman social opinion of a woman... accompanied by her musical instrument is unclear. Despite the beautiful wall  paintings...literary sources offer that the upper classes of the day frowned upon female virtuosity, especially when such exceptional talent was made known to the public. Sallust writes of a late Republican woman named Sempronia, whose questionable reputation was, in part, attributed to her excellence in the arts:
 "Now among these women was Sempronia...able to play the lyre and dance more skillfully than an honest woman need, and have many other accomplishments which minister to voluptuousness." Sallust. Cat. 5.1-3.
(Courtney, 2003)

Whew! We can't have women too skillful or voluptuous! Ha! Poor Sempronia. However, for nobly-born Romans to perform publicly would have been frowned upon--especially women.
     

The lovely fresco above on the right is from Herculaneum, and shows some adorable cupids playing with a cithara, more than actually playing it. Notice the one that's seated. He may be holding a pick (plectrum) of some kind. What I love about this depiction, is that you can actually count the tuning pegs at the top of the instrument. Though there's a crack running straight through where the second peg should be--assuming it was there, I count six. Just like a guitar!

​This beautiful piece is from Boscoreale and it's currently housed in the Metropolitan Museum in NYC. Again, look at the more standardized appearance of the instrument itself. It's played by a woman, and one can instantly see that she's a woman of means, with gold earrings, a golden diadem, and the cithara itself might have been gilded. Since the girl standing in the background is similarly bejeweled, this might have been a mother/daughter portrait, with the instrument adding another touch of high social status.

Now, let's listen to the cithara! Again, here is Peter Pringle, improvising on a Greco-Roman cithara: youtu.be/mGKY7wQbrUE?list=TLPQMjAwNzIwMjDbNVnIOC6xQg

Anybody with any Roman historical background will recognize the "mug" on this coin's front side. Nero was the last of the Julio-Claudian emperors, and was also Marc Antony's great-grandson! He considered himself to be a consummate artist and some of his coinage from the day depicted him as Apollo on his lyre. Most likely, however, Nero was playing a cithara for his performances, as it was the preferred string instrument of the period. So instead of "fiddling" while Rome burned, he was probably plucking or strumming.

Indeed, for all of the despicable things Nero did, he was a huge arts supporter. In fact, in 60 A.D., he created a Greek-styled festival for furthering aesthetics in Roman culture. Naturally, he named it the "Neronia". Suetonius tells us:
 He was likewise the first to establish at Rome a quinquennial contest in three parts, after the Greek fashion, that is in music, gymnastics, and riding... Suetonius. Ner. 12.3.

In the Neronia, the Emperor himself sang, played, and recited in public. The Senate's overall actions at the time, trying to dissuade Nero from his public performing, add more credence to the opinion that such behavior must have been considered scandalous. However, it may have opened a door for more public approval of the arts--especially among the elite. Indeed, later Emperors, including Hadrian and Commodus certainly had lofty tastes for the arts. Whether Nero started a trend or not is impossible to say.

In our day and age, it's not very often when someone gets to hold a real cithara. Walter Maioli, founder of Synaulia, a musical group who has recreated and learned to play ancient instruments, allowed me to do just that. Unfortunately, the instrument I'm holding needed new strings at the time, and had had not been re-strung, but Walter coached me in how to hold it, and so here I am in all of my citharista glory, LOOKING like I'm doing something, even though I wasn't! 

Next week, we'll continue with Roman Music and delve into some ancient WOODWINDS! Until then, please READ ON!

Unlike the visual arts, music from the ancient world was pretty much lost until the second half of the twentieth century. This week, I want to begin a journey that will introduce you to what musical instruments and vocations existed in the Roman period. And if you're anything like me, you'll be surprised and intrigued at music's sophistication--even so long ago.

What we do know about Roman music comes not only from artistic representations and ancient inscriptions, but also from actual instruments which have been found intact or partially intact. For about three weeks, we explored the stunning world of Roman art through wall-paintings, mosaics, and statuary/busts.

I happen to be a professional musician in my day job, and whenever I travel, I always enjoy local sounds, whether it's vocal, percussion, strings, or winds. When I completed my Masters work in 2003, I focused on the musicians of ancient Rome in the late Republic and early Imperial period.

This week, we're going to hit the tip of the iceburg, and just talk about some of the basics of music in the ancient world. Since we have no contemporary recordings or notation from back then, visual arts have left us some idea as to HOW music was used in daily life. Music had a purpose in Rome, though few actual musicians from the period have left their names for posterity. 

A present-day Milanese gentleman, by the name of Walter Maioli, has been a true gift to the study of ancient Roman music. Walter has recreated instruments using extant archaeological remains and art, and has taught himself to play them. His work and performances with the musical group he founded, Synaulia, have been well-received in the past several decades and the entire ensemble performed in Ridley Scott's Gladiator and HBO's Rome. I had the distinct pleasure of meeting and dining with Walter and the picture above, at right, is the two of us having a little "jam session" during that visit.

In the picture, I'm playing the cymbalum, which are really nothing more than finger-cymbals which can still be found in orchestras and school music rooms all over the world. Walter's flute, however, was unique, for though it was transverse, it didn't have the typical mouthpiece of today's orchestral flute. Shortly after our visit, I went to the Palazzo Massimo Museum of Roman Civilization and found this small statue (below right) of either Pan or an un-named boy playing what had to be the original flute from which Walter designed his. Though the piece is damaged and the entire body of the instrument is missing, the mouthpiece and placement of its arms is telling. One can easily recognize the similar mouthpiece style of Walter's flute. Perhaps this type of instrument had its own name, but aside from "transverse flute" that hasn't yet been discovered.

Romans used music in many ways: theater, weddings, funerals, in the military... and over the next few weeks, I'll try to introduce you to some of the instruments and instrument families that led the way toward instruments of today. Here's a great example of what the tibiae (ancient double flutes) may have sounded like. For those of you who know music theory, the overal tonality (sound) is based on the Greek modal system--similar to our scales today. As with most things, the Romans took Greek knowledge and in some cases, added to it. Be sure to look at this instrument carefully. It is an ancient reed instrument... more specifically, a double reed, much like a bassoon or oboe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n7dzyzvXPeQwww.youtube.com/watch?v=n7dzyzvXPeQ

​Speaking of the Greek modal system, many folks ask whether or not the ancient world had any type of notation for their music. My answer: YES! The proof in the environs of Delphi, where the large Apollo cult was located. Below is a close-up of a mere excerpt from this stone inscription, which has been titled The Hymn To Apollo. Even if you don't read Greek, it's easy to see the text. Look carefully above some of the text and you'll see small circles--some with dots inside. Also there are some additional symbols resembling either the letter Y or M. You're looking at the world's earliest musical notation, and I would be willing to lay down money that this or something similar to it was used by the Romans at times, as well. It's therefore highly likely that the same modal tonalities heard in Greek music were passed on into the Roman period. 

Next week, we'll delve into the string instrument that became the virtuoso's preference in Marc Antony's day and also take a look at how it may have originated.

In closing this week, let me share that a reader emailed me this past week, asking when Book #3 would be launched. Good news! The wait is almost over. I'll be having a cover-reveal sometime in the next month or so and the launch should be in late September or early October. So in the meantime, READ ON! 

I'm hosting another guest blogger this week, and one I'm most thrilled to have join us. I had the pleasure of meeting Griff Hosker when we both attended a session at the Historical Novel Society conference, last summer. I will let Griff's bio tell you everything you want to know about him, but suffice it to say that this gentleman has clearly made his mark on historical fiction adventures. So, let's not waste another moment, but find out more about his latest project, who his main character is, and some details about how he likes to write! Oh, and since I'm a Griff Hosker fan myself, the last photo at the bottom of the blog is us last summer at the HNS conference!

‘Crécy: The age of the archer’ is the first book in a brand new series about Sir John Hawkwood who was a fourteenth century mercenary. I found his name whilst researching something else and that set me, like a hunting dog, on his trail. He sounded like a perfect vehicle for my work as he had humble beginnings and yet became one of the richest and most successful men of his generation.
This is the blurb from the book.

"In 1335 the Black Death was just thirteen years away from England but there were other threats and dangers. Young John Hawkwood is forced to leave his home and seek a life in London. There he learns how to survive and, more importantly, how to fight. Leaving his life as an apprentice tailor he follows the army and King Edward to fight the Scots. He has a skill; he can not only use a bow, but he can use a sword and his mind. It is the start of a life of war for the young man.
He fights first in the Low Countries at the battle of Cadzand before heading to Gascony to fight under the charismatic leader and cousin of the King, Lord Henry Plantagenet. As he fights so his skills improve and the novel follows his progress until he fights in the two great battles of 1346, Crécy and Neville’s Cross.

This is just the start for John Hawkwood who will become, in the fullness of time, one of the greatest condottiere the world has ever seen, a man who, at the Battle of Castagnaro in 1387, shows the world that he was a great leader, too."​

I was lucky in that his early life was not well documented and that gave me the freedom a writer craves. The first mention of his name comes from the Battle of Crécy and I began there. I knew that he was knighted after Poitiers which meant by then he was a man at arms and so this first book would allow me to write about his life as an archer. I also liked the fact that he began in England. That made the research so much easier. I am lucky in that I live close to land which has remained untouched, in terms of development, since medieval times. When I walk my daughter’s dog each morning, we walk across medieval plough marks! There is also an ancient greenway. All of this means that I can walk a land which my characters would have walked.

I also like to have weapons and armour so that when I write about a battle, I can be realistic. One of my readers, Rich Sankovich, allowed me to use his crossbow because I did not write about it accurately enough! I now understand that weapon. I have a helmet, coif and sword- one day I will get the mail hauberk too! This allows me to use the weapons my characters use. I even bought a bill hook which was a medieval tool used by archers so that I could sharpen a stake as they did at Crécy, Poitiers and Agincourt.

I always write in the first person. I feel comfortable with that style and I understand its restrictions. I like to get inside the minds of my heroes. The drawback is that you can only see events through their eyes but it does allow many opportunities for surprise. I am, at heart, a storyteller. I taught English for 40 years and I know that my work is not great literature. I want my reader to be reluctant to put the book down as they want to know what happens next. In fact, many of my readers have told me that they read my 90000 word books in a day or two so compelling are the stories. I like those reviews because they tell me that I have been successful.

John Hawkwood is a character who has a long journey ahead of him. He marries but he also has mistresses. He fights for and against popes. This will be a journey for me too. As with all of my books, I know where I will get to, at the end, but not how I will get there!
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Here is a photograph of some the armour I use to help me with the writing of the books.

From the bottom up:
Norman Helmet
The Earl Marshal Sword (circa 1180)
Coif, worn under the helmet
Blackthorn staff

I included the last one as it demonstrates how I write. My hero (in War in the West- Border Knight series) is stranded in Wales and he cuts down a blackthorn branch with his sword. I have blackthorns and I made certain that I could do it. Later in the book he has to defend himself with the blackthorn staff and an enemy slices off the end. I replicated that- hence the short nature of the stick.
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I also use metal figurines to aid my combats. It is great fun but helps me give that edge of realism.

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Griff Hosker's Bio

I was, for forty years, a teacher in the north east of England. I always loved writing and would regularly send my efforts, typed on a portable typewriter, to publishers who, inevitably, rejected them. My early success was in the musicals I wrote for the young people I taught. I suppose my most successful venture was when the Millennium Dome opened in 2000 and a musical I co-wrote was showcased there for one performance.

It took retirement to spur me to try once more to be published. I wrote The Sword of Cartimandua in 2012 and this time used the Arts Council to get it published in paperback. They had a programme called Feedareed. The book did not sell well but I had my work in print. I then stumbled upon Kindle and that changed my life. When I uploaded it, I began to sell more and more. I wrote, very quickly, the next six nooks in the series and then moved on to a series about the Battle of Hastings. It took my son to help me make the leap from having a small and select audience to the wider one I now enjoy. He found a design company and they re-did all of my covers. That was in 2014 and my monthly sales went from 1700 to 4000+ and kept rising until they hit the 20000 mark.

I now have one series, Lord Edward’s Archer, with Lume, a traditional publisher and W F Howes publishes my audio books but the majority of my work is still self-published. My readers are mainly in the English-speaking world, but I sell well in Germany and Europe.
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I write 5000 words a day and I have a strict writing regime which starts at 6.30 a.m. I know that I am a lucky man and, at 70 years of age, I am living the dream but I have 40 years to make up for!

Amazon Book link:
Crécy: The age of the Archer

Before beginning this week's blog, I wanted to comment that it's been such a privilege to meet and get to know authors both at conferences, signings, and online. To have such fantastic writers as guests on my blog is humbling and a true delight. I also love writing blogs myself, since it's a way to comment more in-depth about material pertaining to my books. Please... should anyone have a topic they'd like to see covered, don't hesitate to ask! And now, let's take a look at the statues and busts!

This week, we're going to meet some of my book's characters face to face, as we observe some common things to look for in Roman statury and busts.

In mosaics and wall-paintings, even common people could often afford such decor within their domestic or business space. However, when it comes to portraiture, it was usually just the rich and famous who were favored with such art. Eve d'Ambra, in her excellent book, Roman Art (1998) stated, "Commissioning and erecting a portrait was a serious political act. To be awarded a portrait erected in the city center at public expense would mark the culmination of a career studded with civic honors and achievements carried out under intense scrutiny and in keen competition."

That being said, there was also a market for private portraiture, and wealthy Romans often made use of this avenue to grace their homes and leave likenesses of themselves for posterity.

Since my story begins toward the end of the Roman Republic, I want to start by covering Roman Republican likenesses. The thing to look for in Republican Roman statues and busts is VERISM--realism. Are there wrinkles, warts, blemishes? Does it look as though it really is a real-life portrait? The picture above right is Pompeius Magnus, Caesar's great rival who was defeated at Pharsalus. Note that he looks like just another guy off of the streets. His hair is tousled, and there are lines of middle age around his mouth and on his forehead. Here's a man who was one of Rome's most celebrated generals and Republican portraiture did what it always purported to do. It humbled him, making him ordinary.

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​Probably the first statue one sees at the Palazzo Massimo in Rome is this phenomenal Athena from the late Republican Period (60's-40's BC). And another superb thing about this cult statue is that the paint job SURVIVED! By some miracle we at least get a glimmer of what a painted statue may have looked like two-thousand years ago. And the detail is stunning. The goddess's eyes are piercing and she's crowned with dark hair, as many Greek maidens undoubtedly were.

More and more, as I visit ancient sites and have opportunity to view ancient art, such as this, I see scholars seeking to determine what colors various statuary once were, so that recreations can be made. When few traces of paint are visible, this is done with the use of lasers. Amazingly enough, some statuary still has traces of paint, or like this incredible Athena, the paint has miraculously survived.

Another of the most famous statues of Roman art has to be the Prima Porta Augustus. Prima Porta is located just outside of Rome, and Livia, Augustus's wife owned a lovely villa there. This statue of her husband (Octavian Caesar, for my readers) was discovered inside. ​It now abides within the overcrowded and oft-times difficult to access Vatican Museum, but is worth seeing. Some years ago, it was scrutinized by scholars, seeking to discover what its paint-job might have looked like. This recreation on the right is what they came up with. It also led me to changing Octavian's hair color in my story from blond to reddish-blond.

It makes me wonder whether generals always painted their breastplates. For those of you who enjoy scholarly reading and hunger for more about the Roman world--specifically the Augustan period, be sure to pick up Paul Zanker's The Power of Images in the Age of Augustus. It's  loaded with the meanings and symbolism that Octavian (the original spin-doctor) used in his propaganda.

Sculpture during Augustus's reign changed dramatically. It really doesn't matter whether you visit museums in Egypt, Rome, Greece, Israel, or Croatia. Throughout the entire Roman world, there was one likeness of Octavian Augustus which never aged throughout his reign. My husband, who openly admits he's no expert on Roman art can now walk inside a museum anywhere in the world and point out a bust of Augustus! There's one treasue inside the Capitoline Museum that I personally love to view whenever I visit. It's a bust of Octavian as a very young man. In fact, he's sporting a beard, so it may have been sculpted right after Caesar's assassination. It's the only likeness of him I've seen that is veristic, prior to his spin on sculpture.

Augustus started a trend in Roman art. From about 30 BC onward, verism took a backseat to the youthful, Greek-like portraiture of the Julio-Claudian Age and lasted well into the mid-1st century AD. No more wrinkles, warts, and blemishes. From then on, it was viral handsome men, feminine, lovely women... and they were never portrayed as "aged".

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​In the mid to later Imperial Period, styles of statuary seemed to revert back a ways to the late Republic. Again, verism became important, but one of the tricks to determing a statues age (unless it was an older piece that was  reworked, of course), is by looking at the eyes. In this bust of Caracalla, note that his pupils have been carefully drilled. That's usually a sign that a bust or statue is of a later date. 

Caracalla is another Emperor of Rome who's fairly easy to recognize. When I studied Roman Art while working on my Masters, I was told to "look for the X on his face!" That was the trademark of Caracalla.  And if you're still looking it's right in the middle, where his eyes and nose join. One can easily tell what type of guy he was. He's the Emperor who has successfully made it through history as perpetually pissed-off!

For a final sample, I wanted to share another personal favorite. Here is Commodus, the Emperor so delightfully played by Joachim Phoenix in Gladiator. Though he did sometimes fancy himself as a gladiator. When you're fairly insane and you're the Emperor of the world's most powerful nation, you can pretty much pretend to be whatever you want.

Sometime during his 2nd century AD rule, Commodus had himself memorialized as Hercules. There's plenty of outstanding symbolism here, showing who he was imitating. Atop his head is the lion skin, with it's paws on his chest. And of course, he's carrying a club. 

These later works from the Imperial court often show the artist's unbelieveable talent, as is the case here. Housed inside another favorite museum of mine--the Capitoline, visitors are able to walk right up into Commodus's face and get pretty much as close as one dares. It's the Bernini-like chiseling and depth perception in this bust that astounds me. Every curl has been articulately carved and the detail is mind-blowing. And it's so polished and shimmery. In such pristine condition, it's hard to imagine that it's as old as it is.

So, I'll stop here, hoping you've enjoyed this little tour of Roman statues and busts. Do let me know if you have ideas or subjects you'd like me to touch upon in the near future.

Next week, we'll get to hear from one of the world's most PROLIFIC authors. Griff Hosker is a master of writing historic adventures and has touched upon many periods. We'll be introduced to his most recent project, which I'm sure some of you will want to pick up.

Have a great week and READ ON!

Writing about my own ancestors has been a remarkable journey. Holding their documents, sitting with their portraits, and reading their words of hope, dreams and sorrows is an emotional process. And, knowing what lies ahead as they share their thoughts can be very harrowing. But, as a writer, realizing that these people lived and loved much the same way as we do today can also give me great joy as I tell their stories. It is an honor to bring them alive for today’s readers and remind us that we all have the same dreams and desires, even with centuries between us.
​
The Lydiard Chronicles, my historical fiction series, is named after Lydiard Park, the St.John ancestral home in Wiltshire. Full of portraits and memorials of my family, Lydiard House and adjacent Church of St. Mary's is a writer’s dream. Elizabethan monuments, Jacobean portraits and medieval wall paintings all provide a rich tapestry of images, calling across the ages for their stories to be told.

The characters in The Lydiard Chronicles are all real people, and their stories are drawn from a memoir from the 1660s. By fate—or maybe design—I came upon Memoirs of the Life of John Hutchinson many years ago in Nottingham Castle. Written by Lucy St.John’s daughter, Lucy Hutchinson, her vivid story of her mother brought my ancestors to life, and I was determined to honor the truth of her account of my seventeenth century family. As I researched more, I made the decision to only use contemporary sources to inform my fiction, and so as I read letters, court pleadings, dispatches, their voices started to come alive. And, as I immersed myself more in their world, they became part of my life. Because they were real people, and connected to me, I felt I had an obligation to interpret their lives authentically, while at the same time describing human behaviors that transcend time and place.

The first in the series, The Lady of the Tower, takes place in the early 1600s. The Tower of London is infamous for the famous prisoners it housed, the horrific torture that took place within its walls, and the tragic executions witnessed on Tower Green. But along with the kept must be the keepers, and the story of my ancestress, Lucy St.John, is that of The Lady of the Tower – the wife of the Lieutenant of the Tower.

Lucy first moved to the Tower in 1617, with a two year old baby boy and no warning that her life was about to change so drastically. She married Sir Allen Apsley after a heartbreaking betrayal by one of King James’ courtiers. Lucy hoped for a quiet life, marrying an older man and bringing up his two children. All that changed when her sister Barbara married Edward Villiers, brother to the Duke of Buckingham. The Duke, George Villiers, was the favorite of King James and his son, Prince Charles, and with that came the power to bestow all kinds of riches on his friends and relatives. As a result, Lucy’s husband was granted the position of Lieutenant of the Tower and moved the family into The Queen’s House, his official residence.

Once within the Tower, Lucy became a witness to history. She took care of Sir Walter Raleigh in his later years, encouraging his alchemy experiments by lending him her henhouse as a workshop. And, in an ironic twist of fate, Lucy became the guard of Frances Howard, Suffolk’s sister, when she was imprisoned in the Tower after instigating the murder of Thomas Overbury.

Along with the duties of organizing food for the prisoners, Lucy was also responsible for their physical wellbeing, as best she could.  According to her daughter’s diary, “to all prisoners that come into the Tower she was as a mother. All the time she dwelt in the Tower, if any were sick she made them broths and restoratives with her own hands, visited and took care of them, and provide them all necessaries; if any were afflicted she comforted them, so that they felt not the inconvenience of a prison who were in that place.”

I was also able to include many medicinal recipes within the novel that come from Lady Johanna St.John's Recipe Book (above), part of the Wellcome Foundation collection in London. Lady Johanna (left) was Lucy's niece, and since so many recipes were handed down and exchanged within the family, I felt it no stretch of the imagination to think some may have been Lucy's.

Once I had completed The Lady of the Tower, I realized that the story of Lucy and her family could not end. I set about writing the story of her children, Allen and Luce. Again, back to the Memoirs, Lucy Hutchinson’s extraordinary first-hand account of the English Civil War. The second book of The Lydiard Chronicles is named “By Love Divided” and follows the family into war. Lucy St.John embraced the Puritan cause and yet her son chose to fight for King Charles.

Writing about conflict and war from the perspective of those whose lives are gradually torn apart was harrowing, for I could see what lay ahead for them. It was important to me that although as a fiction writer I could foreshadow conflict and sorrow, I should also convey the day-to-day emotions of love, life and joy that permeated their lives. Luce’s accounts of dancing, music and happiness, falling in love and bearing healthy children were as important to me as the battle of Edgehill and the tragedy of a hero’s death. Based on these contemporary diaries, letters and documents, By Love Divided tells of the heart-wrenching choices my family faced, and how they remained loyal to each other through the conflict of civil war.
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In the third book of the series, Written in Their Stars, we travel with three cousins – Lucy Hutchinson, Frances Apsley and a new character, Nan Wilmot, wife of the Earl of Rochester. Through the challenges of Cromwell’s Commonwealth to the Restoration of King Charles, these women fight for their own future — and England’s. As courtiers, rebels and spies, they emerge from the shadows of history to reunite the family and look to the future.

                                                                                       The six St. John sisters in 1615.

​The St.John family motto is Data Fata Secutus, which translates approximately to “Following his allotted fate”. When I’m researching, writing or simply going through my days and a thought enters my head, I feel it might have been my destiny to share these voices of the past.
The Lydiard Chronicles are on sale worldwide through Amazon, Kobo and other retailers.

​Author Bio
​
Elizabeth St.John was brought up in England, lives in California, and spends most of her time in the 17th Century. To inspire her writing, she has tracked down family papers and residences from Nottingham Castle, Lydiard Park, and Castle Fonmon to the Tower of London. Although the family sold a few castles and country homes along the way (it's hard to keep a good castle going these days), Elizabeth's family still occupy them - in the form of portraits, memoirs, and gardens that carry their imprint. And the occasional ghost. But that's a different story...

www.elizabethjstjohn.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ElizabethJStJohn/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ElizStJohn
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/elizabethjstjohn/
Elizabeth St. John's books: https://geni.us/AmazonElizabethStJohn

In my last blog, we looked pretty deeply at the four different styles of Roman wall-painting, as differentiated within discoveries  near Mt. Vesuvius. It never ceases to amaze me how these pieces survived over twenty or more centuries. 

The same can be said of mosaics, though due to their composition, vivid colors and delightful artistry are preserved even more so than wall-paintings. Mosaics are my favorite medium of Roman art. The intricacy and bold designs that artists from so long ago employed, boggle my mind and ever make me yearn for more. 

Roman families used mosaic art in both decorative and utilitarian ways. At right, is a lovely mosaic featuring a typical layout. Black and white geometric designs surround a vibrant polychrome (multi-colored) center, depicting fruit, fish, and fowl. In many Roman households, this particular type of theme would be popular in triclinia--dining spaces--since they suggested food sources/meals. Such a highly detailed piece likely came from an opulent household. 
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Early mosaics in Greece could be highly detailed too, but the stonework was composed of actual pebbles. In Roman mosaics differed, for a tessura (tiny stone/glass piece) was cut into a cube like a tiny cobblestone. The phenomenal hunting scene below is from Pella. Look carefully at the bottom of the mosaic, and you'll see that the stonework was not cut to size, but instead are natural pebbles. Since this sample comes from the Macedonian kingdom of Pella and dates from around 300 BC, some scholars believe it depicts Alexander the Great (at right) and Hephaestion, along with Alexander's dog, Peritas. Regardless, it's a stunning example of a Hellenistic mosaic.

Now let's return to Roman mosaics and take a careful look at real tessurae, cut specifically for the intended design. Below is a utilitarian mosaic. It's from Pompeii and was located at the front entry of a domus, sending an important message: CAVE CANEM--"Beward of the dog"! This mosaic is a personal favorite of mine, since I'm a dog-lover, and what's incredible, is that we STILL post warnings like this in yards. This sample was more permanant,of course--built into the floor-space of a home's entry. Yet, one wonders whether this was what the household dog really looked like? And my dog today wears a similar red color to show off his sleek, black coat.

​Earlier mosaics were simpler and usually geometrical. One excellent example (below, right) is on the Palatine--inside the House of the Griffins. Note that the artist used a sort of early tromp l'oeil, which truly creates an illusion of geometrical, stair-step depth among the cubes. No lush scenes of maenads chasing Bacchus here, but instead a sombre, refined sense of order, which certainly rings true for the height of the Republican Period, the era from which this house  comes. Though the surrounding tiles are all black/white, the central design still introduces an additional color, staying true to the Roman love for varied hues.

​​The simplicity of the outer design speaks for itself. In fact, the central geometric piece draws the eye in, leaving the simple and sometimes haphazard tile order on the outside as trivial... almost unimportant.

A famous mosaic (below left) is that of a human skull, resting precariously atop wings and a wheel. To either side are garments. One is colorful and rich, while the other is simply a bedraggled tunic made of rags. 

Used in the HBO series ROME as part of the intro sequence, this mosaic represents the fragility of fortune and the ever changing balance of wealth versus poverty... success vs. failure.

The miniscule tessurae indicate phenomenal artistry, and when one backs away from the piece, it almost looks like a painting.

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As time passed, artistic styles changed, and usually that change was subtle, as in the wall-paintings. However, with mosaics, it's a little more obvious. Suddenly, the use of fine, tiny tessurae, used previously, were discontinued in favor of larger pieces of stonework, more colorful marble pieces, instead of tessurae, and themes that varied from mythological to (later in the Empire) Christian themes--especially in basilicas and Churches.

​One example of this form from the Late Empire is pictured below, from Ostia Antica. Note how the inlaid stonework is larger and more expansive in layout. These geometric designs are so encompassing, they no longer include outer surroundings in black/white. They speak for themselves.​

Just like wall-paintings discussed two weeks ago, Roman mosaics were bursts of color. They were refined, elegant, sometimes playful or used for specific purposes to send a message. Much of my information on mosaics, is referenced from Roman Art by Eve D'Ambra. All of the photos, except the one from Pella are my own.

​Read ON, everybody!

A Desperate Situation

When young reporter Nellie Bly approached the managing editor of the New York World for a job in September of 1887, she was desperate. She’d been in the city four months and her cash had dwindled to almost nothing. At the time, she was working as a correspondent for a paper in Pittsburgh where she got her start, but the pay wasn’t regular. She longed to get hired on in the capital of newspaperdom, where the best of the best worked for the leading dailies: The Times, The Tribune, The Sun, The Herald, and the largest of them all, Joseph Pulitzer’s World. So clustered were they along Park Row in Manhattan, the area was dubbed Newspaper Row.
 
The problem was, she was a woman. The World already had two on staff and wasn’t looking to add a third.
 
So, what could a young woman reporter do when she was running out of time and money?  How could she convince the editor, John Cockerill, to change his mind?


​A Bold Plan
Bly stepped out of her cab-for-hire on a crisp September morning and paid the driver with money she’d borrowed from her landlady. Minutes later she was ushered into Cockerill’s office. She’d met him once before on a story she’d written previously for the Pittsburg Dispatch. Even so, he must’ve been surprised to see her. 
 
She wasted no time in presenting him with a list of story ideas. But they weren’t the garden variety topics women journalists—few that there were at the time—tended to pursue (fashion, theater news, gossip).
 
Bly’s ideas were much bolder. They had to be in order to get Cockerill’s attention. But Bly was also a spunky young woman who abhorred the ladies’ pages. She found them dull to read and boring to write. No, the ideas she handed Cockerill required her to take on daring aliases for the purpose of getting a story that would draw attention to her and the particular brand of stunt journalism she would become known for: provocative stories that exposed the plots of the greedy and dishonest, or aroused pity in the misunderstood or marginalized.
 
Cockerill didn’t turn her down, nor did he offer her a job. Instead, he told her to come back in two weeks for his answer. He paid her twenty-five dollars and told her to go nowhere else with her list.
 
His stall tactic was most likely to seek Pulitzer’s blessing. Cockerill was Pulitzer’s right-hand man and carried more than a little power, but Pulitzer was a fanatical micro-manager involved in the minute details of his paper.

The Assignment
When Bly returned on September 22, Cockerill had his answer. He wanted Bly to fake her way into an insane asylum for women on Blackwell’s Island, a slim strip of land in the East River that was home to the city’s misfits and malcontents. She was to remain for ten days and report upon what she found when she returned.
 
For a woman who was just twenty-three, Bly had already shown a remarkable predisposition to grasp whatever opportunities that came her way and think about the risks later. Cockerill, for his part, was just the sort to dish them out without compunction. He was also, of course, testing Bly. Did she really have the nerve to execute such a bold feat?
 
He left all the planning to her. She’d have to figure out on her own how to convince nurses and doctors (and a judge and a few police officers as it turned out) that she was mad. All Cockerill promised was that, in ten days’ time, a representative of the paper would come get her out.
 
Bly accepted.

​A Place of Despair
Why the Blackwell’s Insane Asylum? For one, the island itself was just the sort of vulgar backdrop that would pique the interest of the World’s legion of readers. The island had long been known as a place of misery. A ferry ride over was often a one-way trip to hell.
 
It was home to a penitentiary for the criminal, a charity hospital for the poor and infirmed, an almshouse for the poor and disabled, and a workhouse for minor criminals, vagrants and the able-bodied poor. The women’s asylum housed the lunatic poor, where 1600 female inmates lived in a space originally built to accommodate just 850.
 
The asylum had a long history of mismanagement but in the summer of 1887, just months before Bly showed up in Cockerill’s office, some interesting tidbits had surfaced in the papers. The Times reported that two young nurses had filed charges against doctors that brought the doctors’ characters into question (a veiled Victorian reference, no doubt, of unwanted, ungentlemanly behavior toward them). Both the nurses and the two doctors were later suspended.
 
Additionally, the World alleged in two editorials that on Ward’s Island (which housed the city’s lunatic males), gross mistreatment of the inmates had taken place. Two attendants at the Ward’s asylum were indicted for manslaughter for the killing of an inmate.
 
These stories, and others, triggered the papers to call for an overhaul of the men’s and women’s facilities. However, further investigation by the press was thwarted. Those who ruled at Blackwell’s and Ward’s apparently wanted to keep their goings-on under wraps.
 
Bly’s assignment couldn’t have come at a better time.

More About Tonya Mitchell

Tonya Mitchell is the author of A Feigned Madness, the tale of pioneering journalist Nellie Bly and her ten-day undercover ordeal in an insane asylum in 1887. It will be published by Cynren Press in October 2020 but is available for pre-order here. Tonya’s short fiction has appeared in The Copperfield Review, Words Undone, and The Front Porch Review, as well as various anthologies, including Furtive Dalliance, Welcome to Elsewhere, and Glimmer and Other Stories and Poems for which she won the Cinnamon Press award in fiction. She is a self-professed Anglophile and is obsessed with all things relating to the Victorian period. She is a member of the Historical Novel Society North America and resides in Cincinnati, OH with her husband and three wildly energetic sons.


Find her on social media:
Website: https://www.tonyamitchellauthor.com/
Twitter @tremmitchell
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Email: tremitchell.2012@gmail.com

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Before I get to this week's blog, don't forget to subscribe to my website for my June 7th Summer Giveaway!!! One reader will win BOTH of my books. If you're already a subscriber, then you are already entered!

Though my next few blogs will be interspersed with a few guest-bloggers, I'm going to spend some time discussing something I adore: ROMAN ART. We're going to explore Rome in technicolor--this week, focusing on an especially prolific form of Roman art: wall-paintings. 

Contrary to the Holly-Rome perception one gets from 1950's and 1960's film grandeur, Rome was not all white marble and starched togas. Judging from the many examples of Roman art that I've encountered, the Romans were passionate about vivid hues. Sites such as Pompeii, Herculaneum, and others in different locations previously encompassed by the Roman Empire have proven that domestic life was colorful and full of lively scenes, themes varying from theatrical to mythological and even sexual in nature. And that being said, I'll add that it wasn't just walls that were colorfully painted or decorated, but also columns and statuary. But more on that in another post!

Classicists have categorized Roman wall-paintings into four separate styles. The first and oldest is the First Style (also known as the Masonry Style). My top right photo, which I shared several weeks ago in discussion of the House of the Griffins, is typical of the First Style, which was prominant from about 200-80BC. It's easy to see how it was given its second name--the Masonry Style--since it was composed of faux marbling and stonework. Not as many examples of First Style have survived, so the House of the Griffins is a true treasure to those who appreciate early Roman art.

Needless to say, the horrific Vesuvian eruption in 79 AD was a tragedy for the Pompeiians and Herculaneans, but an utter GODSEND for Classicists and archaeologists in our time. Literally, a time-capsule was left to us to learn more about Roman culture.

Amid the ruins are some truly excellent examples of more styles of wall-paintings. The one at left is a perfect illustration of the Second Style, which was popular from about 80-20 BC and incorporated the larger expanses of a wall, giving it an "open" feel. Also Second Style paintings are loaded with architectural elements. This particular painting from the Villa of the Mysteries in Pompeii, shows fluted columns and what appears to be a louvered door. Ironically,  an actual plaster cast of an original louvered door was preserved in this very villa!

Second Style paintings often attempted to create illusions. If one looks at the figures in the famous Dionysian wall-painting at Villa of the Mysteries, one can visualize them as escaping from their space, yet also remaining a part of the overall "architectural feel". One other interesting thing is the use of First Style design at the top and far bottom of the fresco.(More marbling!)

If you ever visit Pompeii, the Villa of the Mysteries is not to be missed. And the wonderful thing is that it remains in a more secluded portion of the site, away from cruise ship crowds! 

This fresco was recently restored and the colors simply dazzle. During my visits, I've found it difficult to believe that it's over two-thousand years old.  It's truly a masterpiece of Roman art and speculation remains on whether it's meant to portray Dionysian rites or possibly a wedding. I'll add that this would have been the type of art Marcus Antonius would have been used to seeing when at home in Rome, so naturally, I'm a bit partial to the Second Style! :) 

Third Style wall paintings, popular from around 20 BC to 40 AD, appeared as though pictures were "hanging" from the walls, while architectural elements were often still emphasized. The sample at right, from Herculaneum, is heavier in the "picture-hanging" than the architectural.






The photo below is Third Style in all of its glory--again from Herculaneum. Walls in Third Style sometimes have stands with figures poised atop them, as in this sample. I've noticed that of all the colors used in Roman wall-paintings, the rich, dark red color, which was eventually entitled "Pompeian Red" was often favored as a background. 

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