Livia, Empress of Rome

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Two weeks ago, I sat in Livia’s dining room.

Not her actual dining room, but within the four painted plaster walls that lined her dining room two thousand years ago and now are located at the Museo Palazzo Massimo in Rome.  And as I sat there surrounded by those four walls, I wondered what those walls had heard, what they had seen.  I wondered about the woman who called upon the Imperial painters to create a dining space that gave the illusion to her guests that they were eating al fresco.  I was mesmerized by the paintings; drawn to this woman whose taste was so much like my own.  Who was she?  What was she like?  What did she and her women friends discuss in this room?  Their children?  Their men?  Their joys and their sorrows?

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And so I decided to write about Livia, one of the most famous women in Roman history.  Wife to Augustus, first emperor of Rome, mother to the emperor Tiberius, grandmother to emperor Claudius, and great-grandmother to emperor Caligula.

When she married Augustus (at the time, Octavian), she already had a son (Tiberius), and in the fifty-one years of marriage to Augustus, she had no other children.  Her role, however, was that of counsel to her husband, and she gave him wise political advice and support throughout his reign as emperor.  This was wildly unusual for the times, as women were considered to be outside the sphere of politics for much of the span of Roman history.  For this alone, we should admire Livia.

Livia lived humbly, despite her status as empress.  She was the role model for the Roman “matrona” or matron.  She wore very little jewelry or makeup, often made her own clothing and that of her husband.  Augustus even gave Livia the (then) outlandish right to govern her own finances and dedicated a public statue to her.

When Augustus died in AD 14, he bequeathed one-third of his estate to Livia, and he also adopted her into the Julian family dynasty, giving her the honorific title of Augusta.  All of these things meant that Livia was able to maintain her power after her husband’s death, and as the mother of the new emperor, Tiberius, she still maintained a position of importance in the empire in any case.

There are tales from ancient sources that tell of tensions between Livia and her son Tiberius during his years as emperor.  It is even said that Tiberius’ retirement to the island of Capri was an attempt to get away from his mother.  At Livia’s death in AD 29, Tiberius refused to return to Rome and vetoed all the honorifics the Senate wished to bestow upon Livia.  However, thirteen years later, during the reign of Livia’s grandson Claudius, all of her honors were restored and her deification was completed.

Women spoke her name during their sacred oaths, her statue was erected beside her husband’s at the Temple of Augustus, and races were held in her honor.  Her ashes remained beside her husband’s in his temple until the Sack of Rome in AD 410, when they, like his, were scattered.

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Painted wall from Livia’s dining room, Palazzo Massimo, Rome, Italy.  Author’s photo.

 

Read More: Empress of Rome: The Life of Livia by Matthew Dennison.

Book Review: “Field of Mars” by David Rollins

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I was recently told by a literary agent that ancient Roman settings were “a very tough sell” in the publishing world.  Perhaps said agent should read David Rollins’ Field of Mars and reconsider her opinion.

If you want to be thrust backward full-force into the drama, order, chaos, smells, tastes, and sensations of the Roman Republic, then this is the novel for you.  This reader (and writer) of historical fiction has fallen in love with the genre all over again thanks to Rollins’ masterful work.

The premise is irresistible: In the far west of China today, there are men and women who have blond or red hair and blue or green eyes.  How did this happen?  The author connects this modern mystery to an ancient one — the disappearance of 10,000 Roman legionaries after a devastating defeat at the hands of the Parthians in May of 53 BC.

I hesitate to even give away the slightest bit of the story lest I ruin it for you, but it must be said that Rollins captures the details of Roman city life and Roman legionary life exquisitely.  From the very start of the novel, when a white bull is being sacrificed in the streets of Rome for the god Mithras, the reader is hooked.  Having written a similar scene  myself, I know how difficult it is to convey a scene which is unheard of in modern times, and thus impossible to observe and write down details of in order to use in one’s own novel.  But Rollins paints the scene perfectly — it’s as if the reader is in the streets with the narrator, seeing every detail of the sacrifice, every smell, every sound, every ripple of the hot Roman air through the surging crowd.

And then there are the battle scenes, of which there are two major ones.  Rollins obviously has an expert’s grasp on the armament and stratagems of the Roman army, and he uses his knowledge to great affect in the great battle between the Romans (under Proconsul Crassus) and the Parthians.  The author isn’t shy about the ravages of war, providing the reader with a realistic look at what life in the midst of battle would have been like for a legionary.  But he does not go over the top with graphic violence, as lesser authors might do.  He finds a realistic middle ground and sticks to it.

The characters are varied and well-fleshed out, each with their own motivations and story arcs.  We are sad, even, when a Parthian character dies, because Rollins has us so invested in his story.

The women in the novel hold the traditional roles of women in an ancient history tale, which is unfortunate.  They are a witch and a prostitute, both of whom seem to exist only to serve the male main characters.  But if you can will yourself to ignore these imperfections in the storyline and characterizations and forgive the author for falling into this traditional trap, you will be able to enjoy the novel.  It is, after all, difficult to create more positive roles for women when you are writing about such a male-dominated topic as a Roman legion.

This is a story about Rome, but it is also a story about the world beyond Rome, and about the weakness of Rome — about Rome’s arrogance.  And yet the characters are so real, one can separate the Roman legionaries from their leaders — from Crassus, from Pompey, from Caesar — and see the legionaries for what they probably were:  simple men doing a difficult job serving their country.

This is a marvelous book.  Highly recommended.  My only wish is that the author would continue on and write a sequel, as I am dying to know the rest of the story!

Buy it on Amazon (Kindle Edition)

Book Review: “God’s Daughter” by Heather Day Gilbert

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This novel is Volume One in a two-volume series (Vikings of the New World Saga), and I plan to read and review the second novel, Forest Child, next.

I loved the premise, and the novel came with an excellent review from the Historical Novel Society, so I was eager to read it.

Gudrid, the main character and narrator, is a Viking woman who has traveled to the New World with her husband Finn.  Finn is the leader of an expedition that seeks Leif Erikson’s legendary Vinland, a land rich in wheat and grapes.  But the expedition has been waylaid and has settled for two years in a place they call Straumsfjord — which looks to be on the novel’s map in northern Labrador.

Gudrid, her husband, and the other settlers face the danger of the Skraelings — which the reader assumes to be Native Americans.  These Skraelings come at first to trade, but then to fight.  Gudrid’s husband eventually decides he must go south to Vinland to fill his ships with wheat and grapes for Leif Erikson, who has sponsored the expedition and who is owner of the ships.  They dare not return to Greenland and Leif without some kind of plunder.

The last third of the book takes place at Brattahlid in Greenland, Leif Erikson’s farm.  Gudrid and her husband and their party have returned with bounty from Vinland.

Throughout the novel, there is family drama and the occasional mention of Gudrid’s Christianity.  I think the author missed a good opportunity here to show the richness of the clash of religions between those who followed the old Norse gods in 1000 AD and those who had turned to the growing faith of Christianity.  But instead, this inevitable conflict is glossed over.

In addition, this reader at least grew weary of every man in the novel pining over the main character.  The main character herself grows weary of every man seeming to be in love with her.  It is irritating, unrealistic, and distracting.

God’s Daughter is an entertaining enough story, but it lacks a certain depth.  There are no great themes here, when there easily could have been with the religious aspect.  In addition, I never felt attached to the main character, rather I simply felt I was an outsider observing her life.

The details of Viking life are excellent, and the author obviously has a love of the time period.  I only wish she had given her story a bit more meat and depth.

Recommended as light summer reading or for those fascinated by the Vikings, but if you are seeking a novel to truly sweep you away to another era, this probably isn’t the one for you.

Buy it on Amazon

Book Review: “The Firebrand” by Marion Zimmer Bradley

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Fans of The Mists of Avalon will not be disappointed by Marion Zimmer Bradley’s lesser-known novel about the Trojan War, The Firebrand.  With the priestess and prophetess Kassandra as her main character, Bradley paints a striking picture of life in Troy during the Greek siege.  Kassandra is much maligned by her royal family for her prophecies of doom, and is seen as an outsider despite being a princess, daughter of King Priam.  And despite her role as priestess to the Sun God Apollo, she is haunted by doubts about the powers and motives — and even the very existence — of the gods and goddesses.

Through Kassandra’s eyes, we see the great heroes of The Iliad not as Homer revealed them, but as perhaps a sister would have seen them.  Hector is bold and something of a bully, as an older brother might be.  Paris is arrogant and selfish, as a man who makes off with another man’s wife might be.  There are echoes of The Mists of Avalon here; the women – Helen, Andromache, and Kassandra — take the primary roles, while the men are the weaker characters.

Achilles, one of the greatest heroes of Western literature, is seen in the novel for what he probably would have actually have been – a sociopath and a brute.  While Homer seems to delight in Achilles’s quest for glory on the battlefield, Bradley shows us the atrocities the man committed for what they truly would have been – the actions of a man with no conscience or regard for human decency.

With Kassandra’s role as a priestess, religion plays a major role in the novel.  As with The Mist of Avalon, Bradley pays a great deal of heed to “the goddess” figure in her work.  Through several of her characters, including the Amazon warrior queen and the queen of the city of Colchis, she asserts that the Goddess came before the Gods and that women ruled before men.  This is Bradley’s signature theme, and plays out a bit more heavy-handedly in Firebrand than it does in The Mists of Avalon.

The novel is incredibly well researched, drawing on not only The Iliad, but The Odyssey, The Orestia, The Trojan Women, The Aeneid, and much of traditional Greek mythology, as well.  Fans of Greek history and mythology as well as Bradley’s other work will find much to enjoy in The Firebrand.

Buy it at Amazon

Anyte of Tegea

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Anyte of Tegea lived in the beginning of the third century BC in southern Greece.  She was listed by first-century literary critic Antipater of Thessalonica as one of the Nine Earthly Muses – an honor she shared with Sappho and Telesilla of Argos.  Antipater also gave her what was quite possibly the greatest of all compliments of the day, calling her the “female Homer.”  More of her work has survived to this day than works by any other female Greek poet.

Anyte was one of the first Hellenistic poets to write in praise of country life, emphasizing the natural world in her work. She was best known for her epitaphs, especially those for young women and animals.

Several of the epitaphs she wrote are tailored to young women who died unwed.  In Hellenistic Greece, marriage was considered the most important even in a young woman’s life, so dying unwed was considered a great tragedy:

“I mourn for the maiden Antibia, to whose

father’s house many suitors came, drawn by

Report of her beauty and wisdom.  But

deadly Fate

Whirled away the hopes of all of them.”

Anyte’s description of the deceased young woman’s wisdom shows the importance Hellenistic families placed on the education of their daughters.

In addition, her epitaphs for pets were very popular, and she was sought after to write them for families who had lost beloved pets.

Here is one of Anyte’s epitaphs for a pet dog:

“You died, Maira, near your many-rooted home at Locri, swiftest of noise-loving hounds; A spotted-throated viper darted his cruel venom into your light-moving limbs.”

While other poets were focusing on the gods or on war, Anyte was writing about the natural world and its relationship to humankind.  Here she writes of the relationship between the sea and sailors from the perspective of a statue of Aphrodite:

(on a temple of Aphrodite looking out to sea): 

“This is the site of the Cyprian, since it is agreeable to her 
   to look ever from the mainland upon the bright sea 
that she may make the voyage good for sailors. Around her the sea 
   trembles looking upon her polished image.”

 Today, we are used to poets who have written about the natural world.  What would the panoply of  Western poetry be like, after all, without Robert Frost, William Wordsworth, or John Keats?  And it was Anyte who began that long Western tradition of writing about nature and wild things.  She was a woman who broke away from the traditional standards of poetry and went her own way, forging a new tradition that thousands of poets followed afterward.  Frost, Wordsworth, and Keats all owe a little bit of something to Anyte, for she truly was a Muse.

 

Ancient History Encyclopedia

Encyclopedia of Women in the Ancient World

Stoa.org

My Grandfather, The Writer

Poppy Final Blog

I was eight when my grandfather died. And when you’re eight, there is still magic in the world. My grandfather, like my father, was my hero. I remember wonderful things about him. Things that a child’s memory freezes in time, and paints gold with the magic of a little girl’s love and admiration.   I know he wasn’t a perfect man, but he was my grandfather, my Poppy, and I remember only the golden things, the magical things.

I remember him saddling up the horses in the ranch yard and taking me for a ride down to the airport business center for Mexican food. In the late 1970s in Aspen, Colorado, you could still do that — hitch your horse up outside a restaurant and go inside with your grandfather to eat a taco.

And I remember his Jeep. Mostly because it was gold and I didn’t know anyone else who owned a gold Jeep, but also because it had a huge eagle painted on the hood. It wasn’t a Jeep like you think of, not the Wrangler-type, but an old pickup truck used for ranch work and for running around town. It had scratchy cloth seats that reminded me of horse-blankets, scraps of hay on the floor, and a gear-shift that made loud noises as it was crunched from one gear into another.

I also remember receiving a fly-fishing kit from he and my grandmother for one of my birthdays, and being proud – so very proud – that I could now be like my older male cousins, a real live fly-fisherman. Poppy taught me to fly-fish up Maroon Creek, standing on the rustic wooden bridge just upstream from the family cabin.

But what I didn’t know about my grandfather was that he was a writer. I didn’t find that out until after he died and members of my family published a collection of his work posthumously.

My grandfather wrote short stories and poetry. According to my Aunt Mary, Poppy had a “surge” in writing that lasted the final ten years of his life. But I often wonder what he wrote before that, because as writers, we know that we are writers our whole lives. The “surge” comes, yes, but the writing has been there all along. For some of us, it takes time to let the muse free, to show the words to others, to admit that, yes, this is who we really are. So what did my grandfather write before, I wonder? What did he write as a boy? As a college student at Dartmouth? As a young father in Highland Park, Illinois? What were the pieces that did not make it beyond the first draft and the trash can in his office on Mill Street?

During my grandfather’s writing surge, he took one-on-one writing lessons with a creative writing professor in Boulder. He would sit in his office on Mill Street (his German Shepherd likely lying in the window as I always remember) and share his latest piece with any visitors who walked in. According to my aunt, he loved to have his writing read back to him, loved to hear his own words read aloud. With a particularly close visitor, he might have sipped Scotch and discussed the stories.

What survives of my grandfather’s writings exist in an anthology called Frontiers Past, self-published by my family in 1981. According to my aunt, most of the stories are based on real people and real events. He changed some names, but also left some names as they were.

My grandfather is well remembered in Aspen. There is a Henry Stein Park down by the Roaring Fork River and a statue of him on the mall downtown.   But I want him to also be remembered as a writer, which is, I think, how all writers would like to be remembered.

The final page of Poppy’s book is a poem. It is entitled “To My Family.” I remember reading the poem in high school, and the final line always stuck with me. I think of it often, even now, twenty-eight years after I first read it, because the words describe how I myself am trying to make my way through the world – and how I, too, would like to be remembered:

“He did the best he could with what he had.”

So I will remember the horseback riding and the taco and the Jeep. And I will remember the German Shepherd in the window and the fly-fishing lessons. But I will also remember the writing. I will remember his love of an audience, his willingness to work on his craft, and his eagerness to discuss his words with others over a glass of Scotch.

I will remember you, Poppy, as a writer. For that is what a writer would want.

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My thanks to my mother Pat Spitzmiller and my aunt Mary Dominick Coomer for their contributions to this post.

 

Kittur Rani Chennamma

Kittur Rani

Many of those of us who grew up in the United States studied the British East India Company in school, but what we learned was only part of the story. The truth, for the Indian people, was that the East India Company represented an oppressive force, colonialism, and the taking of freedom.

The first Indian to begin an armed rebellion against the British East India Company was Kittur Rani Chennamma. A woman.

Rani Chennamma was born in the small village of Kakati on October 23, 1778. From a young age she was trained in horseback riding, sword fighting, and archery. She rose to be Queen of Kittur in Karnataka, southern India, and married Raja Mallasarja.

Rani Chennamma and the Raja had one son, who died in 1824. Following the death of her son, Rani Chennamma adopted a son named Shivalingappa, and named him heir to her throne.

The British East India Company refused to acknowledge Shivalingappa’s legitimacy as Rani Chennamma’s heir and exiled him, using a policy stating their complete authority over all things political in India, but Chennamma defied the order. She sent a letter of protest to the British leadership in Bombay, requesting a reinstatement of her adopted son, but she was refused, leaving her without an heir.

In response to Rani Chennamma’s perceived rebellion against the East India Company, the British attempted to confiscate the treasure and jewels of Kittur, which we can value today at around 1.5 million rupees. The British attacked Kittur with a force of 20,000 men and 400 guns.

At the start of the war, in October 1824, Rani Chennamma’s forces prevailed and the British took heavy losses. One of their leaders, John Thackeray, was killed and two British officers were taken as hostages.

A deal was made, and Rani Chennamma released the hostages under a truce with the British that stated that the war would end. But the British continued the war with even more soldiers. Chennamma fought fiercely, but was captured and taken prisoner.   She was brought to the fort at Bailhongal, where she died after five years of captivity on February 21, 1829.

Rani Chennamma grew to become a legend in India. During the freedom movement, her resistance to the British became the subject of plays, folk songs, and stories.

A prestigious girls’ school was founded in honor of her, with a mission statement that includes the goal to “impart sound learning for girls…in a social context where the cause of women was totally neglected.”

On September 11, 2007, a statue of Kittur Rani Chennamma was erected at the Parliamentary Building in New Delhi. The statue was unveiled by Pratibha Patil, the first woman President of India.

RaniStamp

Sources:

Hindu Janajagruti Samiti

Hindu History

DigPlanet.com

Queen Nzingha

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The slave trade.  European kidnapping and murder of millions of Africans over hundreds of years.  But one woman fought to save her people from such a fate.

Queen Nzingha of Ndongo.

She was a member of the Mbundu, an ancient ethnic group that lived in modern-day Angola. The Mbundu were made up of clans descended from bloodlines traced through the mother’s side of the family.

Nzingha was born in 1582. Her father was Ndambi Kiluanji, the ngola, or king, of the Ndongo tribe and territories. Her mother was Kiluanji, one of several of the king’s wives.

Nzingha grew up to be a great athlete and highly intelligent. The only problem is that she was a female and that her mother Kiluanji had been brought to the king as a slave, and therefore did not have royal blood. In a matrilineal society, one’s mother’s history mattered, and for Nzingha, her mother’s past as a slave was a hindrance to her chances to rule. But nevertheless, she was educated in the fields of hunting and archery and in the skills of diplomacy and trade.

The Portuguese slave traders tried to destroy the Mbundu culture. In the 1400s, Portuguese traders set up ports along the African coast, such as Luanda, a city meant solely as a center of the slave trade. The Portuguese goal for centuries was to capture Mbundu people to sell and ship off to the New World. Starting in the 15th century, the Portuguese set out to capture and enslave as many Mbundu people as they could. Some Mbundu tribes made deals and alliances with the Portuguese, but Nzingha’s father Kiluanji refused to make such a bargain. He wanted to protect his people. And because of this, the Portuguese advanced into Ndongo territory. Thousands of the Ndongo people were captured, and Kiluanji led his people into war with the foreigners.

Nzingha’s brother Mbandi rose to power at the death of their father and proved to be a useless king. With the Ndongo now essentially leaderless, the Portuguese attacked the Mbundu’s main city of Kabasa and burned it to the ground. Nzingha fled to the mountains with her people and organized an army to fight back.

In 1624, 42-year-old Nzingha led her people back to take control of their homeland. Nzingha was declared Ngola Kiluanji — leader of the Mbundu of Ndongo. The Mbundu had never had a female in charge of their government, but Nzingha proved more than capable.

For forty years, Nzingha led her people into battles against the Portuguese from the slopes of the mountainous Matamba region. Her sisters were captured during a battle, but with the help of slaves in the port of Luanda, they escaped from slavery.

Nzingha was never able to return to the ruins of Kabasa, and many remember her as the “Queen of Matamba,” because she ruled from the Matamba mountains and countryside, never from the Ndongo territory.

When she died in 1663 at age 82, her sister Mukambu took over leadership of the Mbundu people. Nzingha was laid to rest in leopard skins and with her bow over her shoulder and arrows in her hand.

Her death created a vacuum of leadership, and opened the door for the massive Portuguese slave trade in the region of modern-day Angola.  But for forty years, she and her people fought back — fought back against oppression and kidnapping and the terrors of the slave trade.  She should be remembered for her efforts, for the lives she saved, and for the hope she gave to her people.

Sources:

Nubian Queens Society

Nzingha, Queen of Ndongo

Antonia Minor

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In honor of my recent trip to Rome, I’d like to profile an ancient Roman woman whose sculpture I found tucked away in a hallway at the Palazzo Massimo museum. It’s a museum not heralded much in my guidebook, just one line, and I was intrigued by the description of a “museum of Ancient Roman Art.”

I found her statue in a long, brightly-lit hall lined with the marble busts of many women – women of influence in Rome.  Daughters, sisters, nieces, wives, mothers, aunts, and grandmothers. But she struck me as separate from the others. Separate because she was all seven of these things – a woman who played a significant role in the lives of some of the most influential men in Roman history. A daughter, a sister, a niece, a wife, a mother, an aunt, and a grandmother to emperors and generals.

Her name was Antonia Minor. She was born on January 31, 36 BC, the youngest daughter of Marc Antony and Octavia, and the sister of Octavian – the man who would become Augustus, first emperor of Rome.

Her parents’ marriage had been a political one, meant to link her brother Octavian with Marc Antony during a time known as the Second Triumvirate following the murder of Julius Caesar.

Marc Antony had been a close confidante and military commander under Julius Caesar. Following the dictator’s murder, Marc Antony and seventeen-year-old Octavian – Caesar’s named heir and adopted son — split Rome’s provinces in half between them in an alliance called the Second Triumvirate. Octavian ruled the west and Antony ruled the east while a third man, Lepidus, ruled Roman Africa. Within a year, Antony had defeated Caesar’s assassins Brutus and Antonius at the Battle of Phillipi.

But in the end, the Second Triumvirate alliance was doomed to fail. The Roman Republic was on its last legs and empire loomed.

As any fan of the great epic Hollywood films knows, Marc Antony ended up with Cleopatra, the Greek queen of Egypt. The Roman Senate grew nervous at this new alliance between Antony and Cleopatra, and forced Antony to return to Rome and marry Octavia, sister of Octavian, in a political move meant to strengthen the Triumvirate. Antony did as he was ordered, and Antonia Minor was the second daughter of this union.

Eventually, Marc Antony and Octavian went to war with one another, rivals for control of Rome. Octavian and his forces marched on Egypt, and both Cleopatra and Marc Antony committed suicide.

For her part, Antonia never knew her father, as he had left his family for Egypt and Cleopatra when Antonia was still a toddler. Antonia was raised by her mother Octavia and her uncle Octavian, the eventual emperor Augustus. Antonia was just one of a collection of important children brought up within Octavian’s oversight — the children of family, friends, and enemies alike. Growing up in such an influential sphere, Antonia likely learned the political ways of Rome from an early age.

Octavian, once he became the emperor of Rome and took the name Caesar Augustus, began working on the consolidation of the influence of his extended family and worked to strengthen his family’s dynasty by means of marriage alliances.

Augustus’s second wife Livia – herself an influential woman — brought two sons into her marriage with the emperor. Her second son was Nero Claudius Drusus, referred to simply as Drusus, and Augustus chose him as the husband for Antonia Minor.

By all accounts, this arranged marriage was a successful one. Antonia followed her husband on his military campaigns and was so loved by his soldiers that they called her “Mother of the Legions.”

Antonia and Drusus had three children who lived to adulthood — Germanicus, Livilla, and the eventual emperor Claudius. Antonia was also grandmother to the emperor Caligula.

Antonia’s husband Drusus was killed while campaigning in Germania in 9 AD, and was given great honors in death, honors which were also bestowed upon Antonia.

Left the widow of a great hero, Antonia did not shrink from public life, but remained a significant presence at court. She continued to impart broad influence within the imperial family.

As she was only twenty-seven when Drusus died, a new marriage and therefore an additional opportunity for a political alliance for Augustus was possible through her possible marriage. And although Augustus is said to have encouraged this, Antonia never remarried. In remaining an unmarried widow, Antonia embodied the Roman ideal a univira, a chaste woman who had only one husband throughout her life. It was an ideal not often realized, and made her a unique figure within the imperial family and Roman society.

The Senate honored her and offered her the title Augusta, a title given to only one other woman previously – her much beloved aunt Livia, wife of Augustus.

When Livia died, Antonia became the senior woman in the imperial household and inherited the highly respected role of queen mother.

Like her uncle Augustus, she gathered around her the children of dead relatives and raised a household of other people’s offspring, influencing them in the ways of Augustus’s dynastic court.

Antonia inherited a great deal of property and money from both her father and husband, and she managed it on her own, working with men on terms of equality as an independent businesswoman, rare for a Roman woman of the times.

Her son Germanicus died young, and Antonia’s unwavering loyalty to her deceased husband Drusus was noted in her son’s death decree:

“Antonia, mother of Germanicus Caesar, who, having experienced a single marriage . . . has shown by the integrity of her character that she was worthy of such close kinship with the deified Augustus.”

Her most important action regarding political matters was in 31 AD when she informed the emperor Tiberius of a conspiracy against him. She sent a letter of warning to the emperor, who was in self-imposed isolation on the island of Capri. Tiberius quickly removed the conspirator from power, and had him killed. Antonia’s daughter Livilla had become involved in the conspiracy, as well. Some sources say that Tiberius was willing to spare Livilla, but that Antonia had her killed in order to be loyal to the dynasty. The dynasty was above all things for Antonia, even above the fate of her own daughter.

At the age of 73, Antonia Minor committed a final act in honor of the dynasty. When her grandson, the emperor Caligula, refused her advice and acted in a way that brought dishonor to the family, Antonia committed suicide as an act of protest.

After Antonia’s death, Caligula made her a priestess of the cult of Augustus and gave her the privileges of the Vestal Virgins. When her son Claudius became emperor in AD 41, he also gave her the name of Augusta (which the Senate had already conferred), added a ceremonial carriage in her honor at the Circus Maximus, and established a series of games to honor her birth. Antonia was also remembered by means of scores of inscriptions, coins, portraits, and statues throughout the Roman Empire.

In Ancient Rome women were excluded from holding official positions, but many women were there, wielding power behind the scenes. Antonia held traditional roles — daughter, sister, niece, wife, mother, aunt, and grandmother. But she fulfilled these roles in relation to some of Rome’s most powerful men – great emperors and military leaders.

And through her position, she became in her own way one of the most powerful women in Roman history.

 

Sources:

Unusual Historicals

Encyclopedia.com

RomanEmperors.org

History.com

Pantea: Commander of the Immortals

Arteshbod Pantea - Immortal Army Commander

Her name means “strong and immortal.” Pantea Arteshbod, commander of the Persian Immortal army, the equivalent of today’s special forces.

Members of this elite force had to be Persian by blood and withstood rigorous training from the age of seven. The force was known as “The Immortals” because they were always kept at a strength of precisely 10,000 men. Whenever a man was killed or seriously wounded, he was immediately replaced by another man to maintain the fighting force’s precise number. It was a force that could not be weakened or defeated.

And for a time during Persia’s Achaemenid Dynasty, this force was led by a woman.

Pantea was born in approximately 540 BC, and wielded power as an influential commander under Cyrus the Great. Her husband was General Aryasb. Together, Pantea and Aryasb commanded the elite force of Immortals who performed the dual roles of both Imperial Guard and elite army forces during the Persian Empire’s expansion. Their force was the core of the Persian army in wartime and the royal guard in peacetime.

In Persian folklore, Pantea was considered to be the most beautiful and toughest woman in all of Asia. She is said to have kept her face covered in battle to prevent the enemy and her fellow soldiers alike from falling in love with her.

Today, we argue about whether women should have combat roles in the military, and most recently, in special forces units. In August of 2015, Captain Kristen Griest and 1st Lieutenant Shaye Haver, two West Point graduates, made history by becoming the first women to graduate from the Army’s elite Ranger School. Major Lisa Jaster graduated on October 16, 2015. According to the Army Times, “Army Secretary John McHugh defended the Army’s decision to open Ranger School [to women] and outlined data that showed female candidates performed just as well – and in some cases better than – their male peers.”

Over two thousand years ago in Persia, a woman was leading a special forces unit. No arguments. No debates. Pantea should be remembered for her bravery and for being one of the first in a long line of Persian women who held roles that we have long considered to be historically suited to men. We should remember her, and we should remember Kristen Griest, Shaye Haver, and Lisa Jaster. These women have shown us what is possible — that young women, whatever their dreams, can achieve anything. In any position or role they wish to fill. Women have been doing so for centuries.

 

Sources:

IranPoliticsClub.net

Persepolis.nu

Exemplary Women from Iran

The Army Times