A Medallic Aureus of Augustus

        After stating that the Romans preferred their own down-to-earth realism to Greek idealism, it seems odd to begin with the most idealized portrait of the Roman ruler who most hid his own personality behind a mythic, never-aging, idealised mask.  This amazing portrait, on an excessively rare coin, demonstrates that if it had been the Roman intention to depict their rulers as a race of demi-gods, they were certainly capable of doing so.  This beautiful sensitive portrait shows the gentle, thoughtful oversight of a kindly master – remote, but not uncaring – a masterpiece of Greco-Roman art.

A Sestertius of Vitellius

        Though a successful general in Germany, Aulus Vitellius was by nature a weak man, and when the tumults which followed the murder of Nero thrust him to the summit of power, he gave way to the gluttony and vice from which he could not restrain himself.  The artists who worked on his portrait attempted to produce the image of bull-necked strength, but frequently the result was a jowly, weak-chinned portrayal of self-indulgence – a true depiction of the man.

An Aureus of Gordian III

        The tumults of the year 238 A.D. saw six men wearing the imperial purple, whether individually or in pairs, each claimed legitimacy for his claim to power.  And yet, the most unlikely outcome of this year or turmoil was that the teenage Gordian III would be accepted as the legitimate ruler at Rome and by the armies, as the successor to his uncle and grandfather, the usurpers from Africa.  The boy-emperor managed to remain on his throne for six year, and his portraits show an open-faced, innocent youth.  Perhaps the most charming of his portraits are those that show him supporting a pair of downy, sparse sideburns and a fledging moustache – like many young men, sensitive of their youth, he sought to hasten the outward, visible signs of manhood.

        As the more politically free days of the Republic and early Empire passed away to be replaced by the military domination of the late Roman period, so the style of portraiture on the coinage had to change as well.  The office of the Augustus or the Caesar became more important than the individual who wore the purple; the Roman public no longer interacted with their rulers, and they might never see the remote general fighting on distant frontiers.  So, a new style began to emerge in which the coins bore a bull-necked portrait of an idealised military leader, an unvarying emblem, with only the changing legends identifying the individual ruler.  Yet, even here the portraiture develops an almost Art Deco minimalist charm.

        Of this founder of the breakaway rebel empire based in Gaul, we have very little reliable history. Yet his coinage is of remarkable quality, especially when compared to much third-century production, and the most remarkable coin of all is this wonderful piece with its three-quarters facing bust.  Facing portraits were a very rare feature on Roman coins: the greater skill needed to render a facing portrait rather than a profile, and the greater damaged caused to the prominent features of a facing bust by worn dies, so-called flat strikes, and simple wear and tear, led most emperors and their moneyers to prefer the traditional side-facing portraits – a choice that continues today.  The innovation in this choice of portrait, and the skill demonstrated in its execution, shows a sensitivity that places the die-engraver amongst the greatest artists of ancient Rome.  The portrait shows Postumus with a combination of gentleness and strength, optimism and force of personality, that must have delighted the ruler who commissioned this coin.  This coin is unique, as is the only other coin of this ruler with a similar facing portrait, both were probably medallic in intention, minted for distribution to his elite commanders; it was pierced in antiquity for wearing as a piece of jewellery.

        The middle years of the third century saw the role of emperor become open to many contenders as victorious generals emerged briefly from the shadows, exerting just enough influence to be able to wrest some cohesion from the tumultuous forces that characterised the age, and surviving long enough to be recognised in at least part of the empire as 'the' Emperor.  Soon however, the tide of events changed, and rival claimants were swept forward, and the previous occupant of the throne was pulled down.  Such, in summary is the story of Maximinus, a native of Thrace, and who is this known to history as 'Thrax' – the Thracian.  With his long jaw, and strong, prominent features, his portraits present an almost Desperate Dan-ish quality, far-removed from the patrician-hauteur of the noble families of the City of Rome.  Yet the portraits show him for what he is, a successful military man, strong, self-reliant, and confident of his own qualities – the type of emperor that his times required, and one of many such who would rise to the purple through their military triumphs.  Maximinus only survived at the pinnacle of human power for three years, until displaced and killed in the usurpations of  238 A.D. that ultimately saw the young Gordian arise as his eventual successor.

        The emperor Augustus, for all his political genius, was no general, so perhaps the greatest or wisest act of his career was to gain the loyalty of Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa.  Agrippa was from a humble provincial family, and so was unable to make a bid for the purple on his own behalf, yet its was through his defeat of the forces of Antony and Cleopatra at Actium in the East, and his defeat of Sextus Pompeius amongst other victories in the West, that he was largely responsible for winning the Empire for his friend.  On this coin he wears a 'rostral' crown of interlinked ship's prows betokening his naval victories.  His force of character shines through this wonderful depiction: strength, determination, and fearless courage can all be seen in the pugnatious set of the chin and the beetling brows.  It could be said of Agrippa, as it was said by a later observer of the American general U.S. Grant, that: "he habitually wore an expression as if he had determined to drive his head through a brick wall and was about to do it."

The Aurei of Marcus Aurelius

        The teenage Marcus Aurelius, a distant relative of the emperor Hadrian, was adopted by Antoninus Pius when Antoninus was himself adopted as his heir by the aging Hadrian.  In 140, at the age of 18, he shared the consulship with Antoninus, and from then on was associated in the reign of the Emperor as Caesar.  He shared the throne until Antoninus passed away in 161, and then reigned, either in his own right, or with either his adopted brother, Lucius Verus, or his son, Commodus, until his death in 180.  Therefore, Aurelius has his hands on the reins of power for 40 years, and the strain of those years are reflected in his changing portraits.  The stoic philosopher-emperor may have found justification and satisfaction in his career of public service, but hardship of his life defending his empire on the frontiers during the latter part of his reign can be seen.  The innocent and callow portraits of the boy who was chosen to share power with the Antonine emperors faded; the beard, which the adherent of Greek philosophy cultivated, grows longer, and the cheeks which it covers grow sunken, and the eyes that were once bright, deepen and appear heavy and tired — noblesse oblige.

The Empresses of Rome

        By contrast with the austere, masculine world of the Roman Republic, the dynastic basis of Imperial Rome demanded a much more prominent role for the female members of the ruling families.  Livia, the wife of Augustus, the first emperor, may have adopted the stern, withdrawn, appearance of a traditional Roman matron, but her successors were much more prominent.  Empresses could be both the guarantors of Imperial succession, by producing children, or the instruments of the transfer of Roman power to the husbands whom they married.  Either way empresses and princesses enjoyed a degree of publicity and political influence that their traditional predecessors could never dream of, and these women were deeply conscious of both their appearance and the attention paid to it by woman across the Empire.  It might seem odd to talk about fashion when discussing the Roman world, but Roman women were deeply conscious of being en vogue, and wary of appearing in public wearing "last year's" fashions.  The necessity of maintaining appropriate decorum meant that it was impossible for hemlines to rise and fall or cleavage to plunge of women's costumes, but instead hairstyles rose and fell, hair was swept up into buns or plaits, or sculpted into elaborate rows or plaits across the head.  Diadems or tiaras varied in size and prominence, as did the way they were worn in the hair, and the wearing of jewellery changes from a discrete display of tasteful wealth to the portraits of the late Roman empresses where the wife of the semi-divine ruler is literally encased in gold and jewels – a living icon.  And how much did these Royal ladies care about being fashionable?  Well, statues and portrait busts of the empresses were frequently made with detachable hair-pieces, so that, as fashions and styles changed, a new hair-piece could be carved and fitted into the existing sculpture, and the Imperial ladies need never go out of fashion.

A Sestertius of Vespasian

        Following the murder of Nero, the last of the Julio-Claudian descendants of Augustus, a rapid succession of rival claimants made bids for the throne, and were equally quickly rejected again.  Eventual success fell to the greatest general of the age, Vespasian.  This career-soldier had conquered the south coast of Britain and the Isle of Wight under Claudius, and, under Nero, he and his eldest son Titus had been busy subduing the Jewish revolt and bringing the province of Judaea back into the Empire.  Vespasian came from equestrian stock from rural Italy, and was disdainful of the pretentions of the urban elite and the traditional, aristocratic Roman families.  His down-to-earth bluntness can be clearly seen in his portraits, which lack the patrician nobility which the Claudian family had assumed.  Her is seen the hands-on military man, who sought to bring benefits to the Roman world through a balanced budget, rather than seek aggrandizement through expensive works; the clear-eyed, self-reliant warrior who self-mockingly declared on his death-bed: "Dear me, I think I'm becoming a god."

A Bronze Medallion of Commodus

        Commodus, the natural son of Marcus Aurelius and Faustina, followed his father onto the throne, and, in so-doing, broke the sequence of the adoptive, "good" emperors under whom, as Gibbon stated, "the human race was most happy and prosperous."  Commodus, however, was a megalomaniac, who saw himself as divine, frequently having himself portrayed wearing a lion's skin as the new Hercules, or who, as the new Romulus, ritually re-founded Rome and changed its name to Colonia Commodiana.  This remarkable bronze medallion shows a portrait of chilling intensity and coldness; the face gives an overall impression of impassive cruelty, whilst the slightly bulging eyes betray an egotism so pure that it would sacrifice the Empire, all its resources, and all its inhabitants to fulfil its deluded ambition.  His inevitable assassination, as with that of Nero 125 years earlier, plunged the Roman world into a period of Civil War that was only settled on the arrival of the Severan dynasty.

        As I stated above, facing portraits were rare on Roman coins, it is therefore all the more inexplicable why, around the beginning of the 4th century, a group of emperors all chose to have themselves depicted this way.  One possible explanation may lie in the stronger visual impact these portraits had, and the greater sense of importance, or presence, that these images conveyed; this sense of the ruler looking his subjects in the eye.  Seeing the Emperor face-to-face, rather than the conventional side-profile, forces the viewer to process the experience in a different way.  All these coins are rare and were probably minted for distribution to comrades and followers who would appreciate the connection.
        First of this group of portraits is and extremely rare bronze coin of Carausius (upper left), who used his command of the fleet to seize the island of Britain and hold it against Maximian and Constantius.  The self-confidence to usurper felt is nowhere more clearly seen than in this facing portrait.
        Facing portraits of Constantine are incredibly rare, but this worn aureus (upper right) offers a wonderful depiction of the man who re-unified the Empire: he holds a globe in his hand, and his head is surrounded by a glowing nimbus demonstrating his allegiance to his patron deity, not Jesus Christ, whose religion he did so much to promote, but his "Companion", the "Unconquerable Sun" – Soli Invicto Comiti.
        Constantine's first great rival in his bid for power was Maxentius, the son of the former Tetrarch Maximian.  Maxentius had seize Rome and Italy from the current Tetrarchs as he sought to establish himself as the legitimate successor to his father.  His facing-portrait coins (middle left) show him with a look of brooding menace as he gazes straight at you from under scowling brows.  His usurpation was initially welcomed at Rome, but warmth soon gave way to hatred as his harsh rule and personal vices turned the population against him.
        Initially Constantine shared his empire with Licinius, and he advanced his son, also called Licinius, to the rank of Caesar, just as Constantine had promoted his own three sons.  The facing portraits of the pair (middle and lower right) may have striven for an image of dynastic strength, but the portrayals the Imperial die-makers produced tended towards a look of cross-eyed bewilderment, a not unfitting memorial of a dynasty that died aborning, and a rival that came to terms with the ruthless and relentless ambition of Constantine.
        The final coin of this group is of Constantius II (lower left), the only son of Constantine to enjoy a long reign and his true heir.  This three-quarter-facing portrait adumbrated the style of portraiture that would become standard for the 5th century emperors on their gold solidi, and pave the way for further developments in stylised depictions of Byzantium.

On the Fringes of Empire . . .

        It was not only the empresses who exhibited vanity or took pains over their appearance.  As noted above, Julius Caesar welcomed the opportunity afforded of wearing a laurel wreath to hide his balding pate.  The short-lived emperor Otho (left), who came to power in 69 A.D. after the murder of Nero, had no need to adopt such a stratagem, and was never shown wearing such an ornament.  Instead, though bald on top when he ascended to the throne, he hid this embarrassing feature beneath an elegant wig of tight, tufted curls.  Resembling the wigs worn by judges and barristers in British courts, it can be clearly seen on his coin portraits, and its ordered, static coiffure is in contrast to the more natural curls of his remain hair, which is shown lower on the back and sides of his head.
        The emperor Gordian II (right), uncle of Gordian III above, felt no such embarrassment over his own receding hairline, and though always depicted wearing a laurel wreath, it is never positioned to hide this prominent feature.  Gordian alongside his father, Gordian I, ruled briefly during the disorder of 238 A.D., and although the two men shared identical names, titles, and coin-types, the issues of the younger man can always be identified by the shining dome of his "high" forehead.