Things began to change in the second century CE and not simply because emperors stopped pretending not to be world rulers. This was the period of the Second Sophistic, when emperors could employ images of themselves as Greek philosophers, Greek dominated high literary culture, and the general
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culture of the Empire became Graeco-Roman. Many cities reconnected to their Greek past, a past that often (whether this was fiction or fact) connected to Alexander. Hadrian and his successors sponsored the political integration of local Greek elites into the Empire.58 Second Sophistic writers paid much attention not only to Alexander,59 but to Homer, the model for so much in Alexander’s self-constructed image.60
As the second century ended and the third began, two other factors contributed to an atmosphere in which Alexander became an ever more attractive figure, not simply to emperors who tried to connect to his fame but to the general population. Septimius Severus (r. 193–211 CE), the founder of the dynasty of the Severi (193–235), came from North Africa. Most of the other rulers of the dynasty were actually descendants or kin of his wife, Julia Domna, rather than of Severus himself. Julia Domna was from the Greek East, Syria, from the family of the priests of the sun god, and her clan may well have had (or at least claimed to have had) connections to the Seleucids.61 Two members of the dynasty, Aurelius Antoninus (hereafter referred to by his nickname, “Caracalla”; b. 188, r. 211–17) and Alexander Severus (b. 205, r. 222–35), were perhaps the most famous and enthusiastic of all Alexander emulators (see below), but subsequent emperors also came from the Greek East. In addition, in this same period, Roman armies confronted a reborn Persian Empire. Naturally, the memory of the man who had conquered the last one was heartening to recall for both ordinary soldiers and emperors. This is the backdrop for the dramatic growth in popularity of the Alexander Romance. Even in the fourth century, as we shall see, Alexander’s image could be useful to emperors of the period and meaningful to their people.
Until the third century CE, little trace of Olympias in the Roman world survives. This is hardly surprising since her image, whether visual or literary, conjured up the idea of dynasty in general and deified kings more particularly.
As we have seen, one or more of the “Great Cameos” may depict her and her son and date from the early Imperial period, but this is far from certain.
Similarly, a painting from a Roman villa that some have identified as Olympias is more likely some other royal Macedonian woman, or perhaps not even that.62 Of course, many images, now lost, of Olympias may have existed and we may have failed to recognize her (granted the difficulties involved in identification already discussed) in images we do have.
Literary references to Olympias tend to focus on the snake, but the picture of Olympias in these sources varies considerably. Legends about the father-ing of various Roman leaders by divine serpents may have developed during the Republican period, implicitly and sometimes explicitly mimicking the story of Olympias and the serpent.63 Cicero ( De Div. 2.66.135) preserves a story in which Olympias’ pet serpent appears to Alexander in a dream, telling him where to find a cure for the wound his friend Ptolemy had suffered. While this story does connect Olympias to a snake, it is much closer to the probably historical story in Plutarch about her pet snakes, with overtones of her as a
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person connected to magic/poison. Aulus Gellius ( N.A. 13.4.1–3), citing the late Republican writer Marcus Varro, tells a version of the anecdote also told by Plutarch ( Alex. 3.2) in which Olympias, supposedly hearing that Alexander was claiming that his father was Zeus Ammon, joked that he was getting her into trouble with Hera. In Gellius’ version, Alexander called himself the son of Zeus Ammon in a letter to Olympias, but the more striking aspect of the Gellius passage is its insistence not only on Olympias’ wittiness, but on her good qualities in contrast to her son’s bad ones. She is prudent and wise while he is savage; she advises cautiously and courteously that he should give up his foolish claim, one inspired by the flattery of his court and his own success. Lucian ( Dial. Mort. 13.390, 25.382), writing in Greek in roughly the same period, has Alexander claim that the idea of his divine birth came from his mother and the prophets of Ammon, not himself. In Macedonia, at Veroea, where games in honor of Olympias’ son began to be celebrated, inscriptions from the second century CE preserve the memory of three women who bore her name, almost certainly in commemoration of Alexander’s mother.64
Revival of interest in Alexander in Macedonia may well have predated the Severi but (see below) they were probably the main stimulant.65
Obviously, the construction of Roman gender roles, however it changed over the generations, had an effect on the image of Olympias in Roman culture. Despite the political influence and considerable independence of elite women in both late Republican and Imperial Rome, the Roman female ideal was of quietness, privacy, simplicity, and self-denial.66 Clever imperial women managed to have their power described and justified in terms that fitted these conventions, but even they had to conform to this image or face criticism or even death. Nonetheless, though more so with some dynasties than others, women of the imperial family formed a significant aspect of the public presentation of imperial power, receiving titles, appearing on coins, and sometimes achieving deification after their deaths. As a generalization, mothers of emperors received a more positive reception than wives or daughters in written sources, and public presentation tended to stress an imperial woman’s role as mother of heirs more than, for instance, the same woman’s role as wife.67 Roman gender expectations, combined with continuing anti-monarchical tradition, help to explain the largely negative picture of Olympias in the historical sources. She transgressed most of these expectations and her pride in her birth and royal status still did not play well in the early Imperial period, when the name of monarchy, if not the fact, still inspired fear. Her personal qualities, seemingly an exaggeration of those very qualities of her son’s that so worried the Romans, were even more upsetting in a woman.
As we have seen with the Severi, “Alexander mania”68 developed and endured through much of the third century. We should probably take the sometimes bizarre details that the historical accounts provide about these two cousins’ fondness for Alexander with a large pinch of salt, but no good reason exists to doubt the idea that Alexander was vital to each one’s public
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presentation and he probably had a personal meaning for each as well.69
According to the Scriptores Historiae Augustae, Caracalla tried to equal Alexander (2.1), and Herodian (4.8.1) mysteriously asserts that the emperor, while campaigning near Macedonia, suddenly “was Alexander.”70 The Scriptores Historiae Augustae report that Alexander Severus, the first of the emperors to bear the eonqueror’s personal name,71 read the life of Alexander and tried to imitate him (30.3) and that he wanted to seem to be Alexander (64.3), though he supposedly rejected the senate’s offer of the epithet “the great” (5.5). Imitation of the Macedonian was particularly relevant for Alexander Severus since he had to deal with a new Persian Empire that conceived itself as the heir to the Achaemenid Empire that Alexander had destroyed (Herodian 6.2.2).72
The women of the Severan dynasty, part of the Syrian elite, played a vital role in it. After the death of Septimius Severus, several of them acted as regents and, even after their sons came of age, continued to exercise considerable power. This power, their good education, and their literary patronage did not go uncriticized, particularly because of their origins in the Hellenistic East and because of the extreme behavior of one of their sons, Elagabalus (r. 218–22). Nonetheless, one cannot help but wonder if Olympias’ role in the life of her son played a part in his appeal to both Caracalla and Alexander Severus.73
A group of twenty large gold medallions, discovered early in the twentieth century at Aboukir, outside of Alexandria, demonstrate that the Alexander imitation of the Severi was not limited to the conqueror
himself, but included his mother. Some date these medallions to the reign of Caracalla or Gordian III, but they probably were produced during the reign of Alexander Severus.74
No one knows the intended purpose of these medallions, but many believe that they were offered as prizes or commemoratives at games in Alexander’s honor given somewhere in the eastern part of the Empire, possibly in Macedonia itself.75 The collection clearly includes examples of the standard image of Alexander (turned head, upward-turning glance), what most consider a beardless portrait of Caracalla, and images of a woman usually identified as Olympias. Five of the medallions depict a highly convention-alized female image in profile on the obverse, in three different versions: veiled, facing right holding a rod around which a snake twines; veiled and diademed, facing right holding part of veil (Figure 6.3); veiled and diademed, facing left, holding a scepter, and wearing a snake bracelet. Two exemplars of the first type were found; on the reverse of one appeared Athena feeding a snake and on the other Perseus and Andromeda. The reverses of the two exemplars of the second type both show semi-nude women riding on sea creatures, although one creature has the head of a bull whereas the other is a hippocamp. The reverse of the third type also shows a partially clad female on a seagoing bull.76
Granted that the male images include and thus (by implication) link a Severan male with Alexander, the female images almost certainly represent
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Figure 6.3 Olympias on one of the Aboukir medallions Source: Walters Art Museum, Baltimore
a woman from one of the two royal families. Portrait traits for Severan women, particularly their hairdos, are well established77 and the busts do not resemble theirs, thus suggesting that the image is intended to be that of Olympias.78 Though none of the exemplars of the three types bears a legend identifying Olympias by name, not only their context in the group of medallions but the marked resemblance between the types on the medallions and on later Roman contorniates (fourth century CE bronze medallions made in Rome with Latin labels; see below), some of which do bear the legend
“Olympias,” make the identification all but certain.79 Quite apart from similarities to the contorniates, the snake rod (type 1) and snake bracelet (type 3) seem to allude to Olympias.80 Though different interpretations have been offered, three of the reverses associated with the “Olympias” medallions tend to confirm the identification. The female rider of a sea creature is most easily understood as a Nereid (a daughter of the sea god Nereus), most likely the most famous of them, Thetis, mother of Achilles and founding mother of Olympias’ Aeacid dynasty.81
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In any event, the medallions seem to place Caracalla, and probably his clan, in the family of Alexander and Olympias.82 No image in this collection can be tied to Philip, and the snake, so often associated with Alexander’s story in this period, makes an appearance only as a cult object.83 Despite the blandness of the Olympias images on medallions, coin portraits of Ptolemaic royal women probably constitute their prototype.84 The medallions present three different interpretations of Olympias, each using the same generic profile: Olympias the modest Greek woman;85 Olympias the religious devotee; and Olympias the ruler or woman of power. Despite the interest of Caracalla, at least, in Heracles, the Aboukir medallions appear to celebrate Alexander as victor and, oddly, as Aeacid, and Caracalla as his doppel-gänger and kin. These medallions constitute almost the last evidence we have for a comparatively snakeless and somewhat historical Olympias. As the third century progressed and the fourth century began, the Alexander Romance, rather than more sober historical accounts, clearly became the main, if not yet the exclusive, source of images and stories about Alexander and his mother.86
Late Roman coins and the contorniates demonstrate the continued popularity of Alexander and Olympias, however romanticized. A series of eight Alexander coin types minted by the Macedonian community after 231, when Alexander Severus restored its ancient privileges, includes an image of a woman, reclining on a couch or chair, feeding a snake from a dish.87 A close relationship exists between the Macedonian coin images and later contorniates.88 (Contorniates were probably connected to the chariot races in Rome, where Macedonian charioteers were popular.)89 That the woman on the Macedonian coin is Olympias is largely confirmed by a similar labeled image produced in the next century on the reverse of a contorniate (Figure 6.4).90 Like other contorniates, the obverse shows the familiar and traditional image of Alexander as Heracles with the lion headdress, but the reverse shows a semi-nude woman reclining on a couch with a dolphin backrest while apparently feeding a snake and supporting his head at the same time. This time the identity of the female figure is not in doubt: the inscription above her reads “Olympias” and below her “regina” (queen).91 While the contorniate could allude to Olympias’ keeping of pet snakes, her semi-clothed state and the presence of the scene on an object whose obverse shows Alexander himself suggest that Zeus Ammon, not a domestic pet, is intended.92 Another contorniate type shows a veiled woman in profile, holding a scepter. On the reverse (with one exception) appears a seated Alexander (identified by a legend) with a shield.93 This image, so similar to those on the Aboukir medallions, has been identified as that of Olympias.
Yet another type of contorniate provides a remarkable representation of Olympias. Olympias (some exemplars bear a legend with her name while others do not) wears the lion headdress of Heracles and carries his club.94
The standard interpretation of this contorniate image has been that it depicts Olympias as Omphale,95 the Lydian queen who owned Heracles while he
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Figure 6.4 Olympias feeds the snake, contorniate Source: British Museum, London
was a slave, for whom he performed various tasks (often said to be those usually given to women), and by whom he may have had children. Omphale, once a threatening symbol of Eastern decadence and the feminization of male power (e.g., Cleopatra and Mark Antony), had become a respectable figure by the Severan period. Imitation of Heracles by Roman rulers had become popular and the Syrian origin of Julia Domna, wife of Septimius Severus, made associations with the East good. Paired statues of husbands and wives as Heracles and Omphale may have become common. Omphale also had Dionysiac associations possibly relevant to Alexander and Olympias.96 Nonetheless, Heracles’ attributes had long been connected to the images of Macedonian kings and a Heracles with a lion headdress appeared on many Macedonian coins, most famously those of Alexander himself.
Alexander coins with a lion headdress were endlessly imitated. In a sense, it is as though Olympias is shown on the contorniate as Alexander. This oddly Heraclid Olympias invokes a gender-bending image of her that one suspects the historical Olympias might have enjoyed.97
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A villa from Baalbeck (ancient Heliopolis) in Syria contained a cycle of mosaics (now much damaged) about the life of Alexander that probably dates to the later fourth century CE and, more clearly than either the Macedonian coins or the contorniates, demonstrates that the source for the story of Alexander and Olympias has now become the Romance. One panel is generally well preserved, but heavily damaged in the upper-left area. On the panel, one scene, to the left, shows Olympias on a couch with a snake that sits on her lap; Philip (labeled) sits near her, albeit partially turned away.
Behind the couch on which the two sit is a heavily damaged male figure carry-ing some sort of rod. Ross has argued that the scene (as well as the others pictured) illustrates an episode from the Romance (10.1), when the serpent’s spectacular sudden appearance with Olympias convinces Philip that a divine snake really did father Alexander.98 To the right of the first scene is another, showing the birth of Alexander. In the foreground, with partially surviving name labels, a newborn Alexander is bathed by a nymph. In the background, a woman (Olympias’ name label is partially preserved) reclines on a couch and is attended by a female servant (also labeled) who stands behind her.
(Scenes
of the birth of Alexander, looking much like medieval births of Jesus,99 often appear in medieval illuminations of the Romance.)100
As the Roman Empire in the West faded, the tradition of the story of Alexander and Olympias survived through the Romance into medieval and early modern times, but that is another story. Augustine ( De civ. D. 8.5, 12.11) knows about Alexander and Olympias, but he knows them entirely from the letter tradition ultimately incorporated into the Romance. Elite women in Christian Constantinople and the rest of the Greek East continued to be given the name of Alexander’s mother,101 but the world that produced the historical Alexander and Olympias, as well as the one that had preferred the tale of serpent-divinity fathers, was gone. The Romance would prosper and endure, but the Alexander and Olympias it depicted had less and less resemblance to the various versions of mother and son popular in antiquity.
If Olympias really did first invent the story of her divine snake lover, then the irony is that her snake tale swallowed the memory of the real woman.
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