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from The National Pulse: WHAT HAPPENED: Zohran Mamdani won the Democratic primary in New York City, prompting warnings about the rise of Islamist-progressive politics in America’s largest city. ?WHO WAS INVOLVED: Zohran Mamdani, Raheem Kassam, Stephen K. Bannon, progressive voters, Twelver Muslims, New York City electorate. ?WHEN & WHERE: June 25, 2025; New York City, NY ?KEY QUOTE: “New York City did not […]

Ceiling reliefs in the Temple of Hathor at Dendera showcase the striking effect of Egyptian blue.   Egyptian blue, the world’s first synthetic pigment, is so much more than just a color. Its incomparable radiance was revered by pharaohs, and its complex chemical properties have long mystified researchers. Nearly 5,000 years later, it continues to captivate us with its ancient beauty—and its surprising potential in cutting-edge fields such as solar energy, biomedical imaging, and telecommunications. How did an ancient hue become a bright blue beacon of modern-day innovation?   Egyptian Blue: Uses and Symbolism An example of Egyptian blue, pictured on an artifact from the Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Source: Washington State University.   Egyptian blue is a vibrant and intense blue pigment similar to cerulean or turquoise. In the ancient Egyptian language, Egyptian blue was known as hsbd-iryt, meaning “artificial lapis lazuli.” The color blue held great significance for the ancient Egyptians. However, adding naturally occurring blue pigment to art and ceremonial objects was especially difficult. Semiprecious blue stones, such as lapis lazuli, or minerals like azurite, were neither affordable nor practical. To meet the large demand for the color blue, the Egyptians managed to produce their own artificial version.   Egyptian blue was a hallmark of ancient Egyptian art and culture for thousands of years. The bright blue hue appeared on tombs, murals, statues, jewelry, and ceremonial objects. Symbolically, Egyptian blue was associated with divinity, protection, the heavens, and the Nile River.   Alchemy of the Ancients: The Origins of Egyptian Blue The pigment was frequently used in funerary art, as seen in this ancient mask. Source: Indianapolis Museum of Art.   Egyptian blue was first synthesized around 3300 BCE during Egypt’s Fourth Dynasty. Impressively durable and dazzlingly vibrant, it revolutionized the art of ancient Egypt. Modern-day archaeological finds showcase the pigment’s exceptional quality, which in many cases has endured for thousands of years. Evidence of specialized workshops dedicated solely to the production of Egyptian blue demonstrates the ancients’ sophisticated understanding of chemistry and further highlights the pigment’s profound significance.   Its recipe comprised a precise list of ingredients, including sand or sodium carbonate, calcium, and a copper- or bronze-based mineral. The process also required an extremely hot furnace. Artisans began by mixing the dry ingredients into a flour-like consistency. Then, they rolled the mixture into small balls, which they placed into a furnace heated to about 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit (1,000 degrees Celsius). The heat caused the mixture to solidify into a glassy blue lump, or frit, that could be ground into a pigment.   Beyond the Nile: From the Romans to the Renaissance A 1st-century CE Roman fresco in Pompeii illustrating the birth of Venus features Egyptian blue pigment. Source: Wikimedia Commons.   Because Egyptian blue was beloved by the ancients for centuries, it inevitably spread beyond Egypt’s borders. Traces of the pigment have been found throughout the ancient Mediterranean. The Romans, for example, adapted Egyptian blue for use in their mosaics and fresco paintings. The pigment was produced and traded throughout the Roman Empire as an affordable alternative to indigo, which had to be imported from afar. Small caches of unused pigment have been found in the tombs of Roman artists, as well as in the ruins of Pompeii.   By the Middle Ages, the use of Egyptian blue had almost entirely ceased. This was likely due to the loss of its production technique. However, when Renaissance artists began studying and emulating Greco-Roman art, Egyptian blue experienced a brief resurgence. The pigment has since been identified in notable Italian Renaissance artworks, such as Giovanni Battista Benvenuto’s 1521 painting, St. Margaret, and Raphael’s 1512 fresco, The Triumph of Galatea.   Rediscovering the Lost-Lost Hue of the Pharaohs Scientists took a sample of blue pigment from an ancient Egyptian wooden falcon. Source: Matt Unger/Carnegie Museum of Natural History.   The secrets of Egyptian blue were eventually lost to the sands of time, but its curious optical effects and potential scientific applications never ceased to intrigue scientists. In the 19th century, chemical analyses began to shed light on the long-lost process of synthesizing Egyptian blue. Now, in partnership with the Smithsonian’s Museum Conservation Institute and the Carnegie Museum of Natural History, scientists at Washington State University have successfully replicated the complex composition of Egyptian blue.   For the first time since ancient Egypt, the multidisciplinary research team developed 12 recipes for Egyptian blue using varying combinations of silicon dioxide, copper, calcium, and sodium carbonate. To mimic the conditions likely used by ancient artisans, each mixture was heated at around 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit (1,000 degrees Celsius) for up to 11 hours. The results will allow the full scope of Egyptian blue’s potential to be explored by scientists and historians alike.   The Scientific Secrets of Egyptian Blue A new study produced contemporary examples of the synthesized pigment. Source: Washington State University.   Beyond its aesthetic value, it turns out that Egyptian blue has a wide range of practical applications in today’s world. For example, the ability to detect and map the pigment enables art historians and conservators to gain a deeper understanding of the history and evolution of ancient art practices. This capability can also help reconstruct lost decorative patterns that were painted with pigment and inform the development of more effective art preservation strategies.   Due to its unique composition, Egyptian blue does not react to the presence of other pigments, nor does it suffer significant damage from prolonged exposure to light. Nanoscale analysis has revealed that the pigment is luminescent under infrared light. In the realms of solar energy technology, telecommunications, biomedical imaging, and many other fields, the technological advancements this phenomenon alone could enable are unprecedented.   From adorning ancient temples to advancing scientific frontiers, Egyptian blue exemplifies human creativity and innovation. Its journey through time highlights the enduring power of both art and science to shape our understanding of the world.

  The story of the Punic Wars is usually told from the perspective of the victors, the Romans, for whom it was the first step towards dominating the Mediterranean. For the Carthaginians, the conflict with Rome initially seemed like a third-party dispute that would be resolved through peace treaties, allowing the mercantile empire to continue its domination of the Mediterranean shipping routes. They underestimated Rome’s nascent imperialism and tenacity, which meant that the end of the First Punic War set the stage for further conflict rather than peace.   Before the War: Carthaginian Foreign Policy Campanian cuirass found in the Punic tomb, c. 3rd-2nd century BCE. Source: Bardo National Museum   Carthage began in the 9th century BCE as a Phoenician colony on the North African coast. As its Phoenician mother city, Tyre, declined, Carthage rose to become the largest and wealthiest city in the western Mediterranean. It built a vast maritime empire, often referred to as the Punic Empire, extending its influence across southern Spain, Sardinia, Corsica, and western Sicily. The mercantile power relied heavily on trade, which generated immense wealth, enabling Carthage to employ vast mercenary armies.   By the 3rd century BCE, Carthage was the dominant naval power in the Western Mediterranean. Its expansion brought it into increasing contact and then conflict with the burgeoning Roman Republic, a rapidly expanding land power in Italy. Rising tension between the two powers would center on the island of Sicily.   Carthage had a history of conflict with the Sicilian Greeks as they tried to maintain control of the surrounding shipping lanes. To ensure these routes, they needed to control both lanes of traffic, which meant controlling the western tip of Sicily. Smaller Phoenician colonies had been established there centuries earlier and quickly fell under Carthaginian influence. Meanwhile, the Carthaginians blocked attempts by Greek colonists to settle in the western third of Sicily. They were particularly motivated by distrust of Siculo-Greek coalitions and the ambitions of unpredictable tyrants in Syracuse. This saw the Carthaginians regularly send waves of mercenaries to Sicily, securing territory to provide stability.   The Casus Belli  Coin minted under the Mamertines, showing a striding warrior, minted in Messana c. 264 BCE. Source: British Museum.   According to Polybius, several treaties had been made between the Carthaginians and the Romans in the preceding centuries. These agreements demarcated their respective spheres of influence, enabling amicable trade relations. That all changed in 264 BCE.   The Mamertines were a group of mercenaries that had once been under the employ of the Syracusans. They now went rogue and seized the cities of Messana and Rhegium for themselves. Rhegium sat in the very toe of the Italian peninsula, and Messana sat just across the water in Sicily. Two cities, sitting on either side of a vital shipping lane, were now in the hands of unpredictable mercenaries. The Romans besieged Rhegium while, separately, the Syracusans crushed the devious Mamertines in battle.   In desperation, the Mamertines courted both the Romans and Carthaginians for support. The latter were the first to offer help, enticed by the Mamertines’ control of the Messenian Strait and their continuing conflict with Syracuse.   The spheres of influence of Rome (red) and Carthage (purple) at the outset of the First Punic War. Source: Dickinson College Commentaries   The Romans, on the other hand, were conflicted about how to respond. The consul of that year, Appius Claudius Caudex, called for direct intervention, seeking the glory associated with being the first man to lead a Roman army outside of Italy. Their willingness to fight the Mamertines of Rhegium, but aid them in Messana, was a glaring hypocrisy that did not go unnoticed by Polybius. The Romans were also aware that answering the call of the Mamertines could bring them into conflict with Carthage, and they were wary of Carthage gaining control over Sicily.   The Battle of Agrigentum  Battle Map of Sicily. Source: Dickinson College Commentaries   The start of the war is dated to 264 BCE, though there was little fighting. Over the two decades of the conflict, pitched battles were rare, with Agrigentum (Akragas) as the exception.   The Romans did not yet have a navy large or competent enough to compete with the Carthaginians. Instead, they moved two consular armies, around 40,000 men, into Sicily and met a Carthaginian garrison at Agrigentum. Hannibal, son of Gisgo (not to be confused with Hannibal Barca), mustered an equitable force from the surrounding hinterlands and attacked the foraging Romans. Although overextended and unsuspecting, the Romans beat back the attack and began preparations for a siege.   Hannibal alerted the Carthaginians to the oncoming danger. With the Romans unable to blockade the port, a relief army was deployed to Sicily. The besiegers quickly turned into the besieged. Both sides were pressured into a confrontation as food was running low amongst the Carthaginian inhabitants of Agrigentum, as well as its Roman besiegers.   Statuette of an African war elephant from Pompeii, c. 1st century CE. Source: Wikimedia Commons.   Deploying in their characteristic triplex acies (triple battle line), the Romans met the frontline of the Carthaginians, who were supported by war elephants, in 261 BCE. By way of Pyrrhus, the Romans may have been more experienced with fighting war elephants than the Carthaginians were in using them. The Carthaginian line was routed, and the advantage they held in elephants and Numidian cavalry was quickly negated by the aggressive Roman infantry. The Punic camp was captured, and soon, the Romans walked into the town of Agrigentum unopposed.   In typical Carthaginian form, they had been quite conciliatory in the first two years of the war, hoping that their immense wealth and resources would discourage the Romans from seeking actual battle. The Battle of Agrigentum marked the first significant meeting between the two powers and ensured that the conflict would escalate.   The Battle of Cape Ecnomus  The Roman Fleet Victorious over the Carthaginians at the Battle of Cape Ecnomus, by Gabriel Jacques de Saint-Aubin (French, 1724 – 1780), c. 1763. Source: Getty Museum   The ground war in Sicily descended into a stalemate. The rugged, mountainous terrain ensured progress was slow. Just as the Spartans realized in the Peloponnesian War, the Romans, Polybius tells us, realized there would be no decisive victory without a navy.   A Carthaginian shipwreck was confiscated by the Romans and reverse-engineered. Soon, one hundred quinqueremes and twenty triremes were constructed and put to sea. They could now seek a decisive end to the war by taking the fight to the Carthaginian homeland: Africa.   In 256 BCE, the Roman fleet, numbering 350 warships and transports, commanded by both consuls, anchored outside the settlement of Ecnomus in Sicily. Each ship carried 300 rowers and 120 marines. To counter the threat of Roman invasion, the Carthaginians mustered their armada, numbering 150,000 men.   Relying on the superior speed of their vessels, the Carthaginians were arrayed in a long, linear formation. The Romans’ arrangement was much more condensed: three lines with the transports in the middle and the famed triarii serving as the rear reserve.   Roman bireme at the battle of Actium, relief from the Temple of Fortuna Primigenia at Praeneste, last third of the 1st century BCE. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The Punic vessels quickly gained the edge, flanking the Romans, while they ordered an attack on the Roman center to lure and separate the Roman frontline from their densely packed formation. Three separate “theaters” of the battle were formed.   But the Carthaginians underestimated the Roman ability to effectively turn what was a naval battle into a fight between infantry. The famed corvus (Latin for “raven” or “beak”) was a spiked gangway that the Romans could lower onto the decks of enemy ships. Under this pressure, the Carthaginian center did not hold. Their line broke, was penetrated by the Roman ships, which wheeled around to attack the flanks. It was a rout. The Carthaginians were broken, and the road to Africa now lay open.   The Invasion of Africa   A corvus; a deck-mounted boarding device, c. mid-3rd century BCE. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The victors of Ecnomus, the consuls Marcus Atilius Regulus and Lucius Manlius Vulso, sailed on to Africa, landing their armies on the Cape Bon peninsula and laying siege to the town of Aspis. It soon fell, and 20,000 prisoners of war were taken.   Having recently been recalled from Sicily, Hamilcar, the Carthaginian commander, along with Hanno and Bostar, shadowed Regulus’ force and, much like at Agrigentum, they built a fort opposite the besieging Roman force. Polybius maligns the Carthaginians’ decision. The high ground they occupied did not allow them to use their superiority in numbers or the mobility of their units to the best effect. Noticing this error, Regulus immediately mounted an attack on the Carthaginian position. The hastily assembled Carthaginian army, under the command of three different generals, was not able to mount a sufficient defense against the dawn attack.   Reconstruction of ancient Carthage, by Damien Entwistle. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Using the momentum from his victory, Regulus seized Tunis and now threatened the walls of Carthage itself. Dejected by yet another defeat on African soil, the Carthaginians now sued for peace. However, Regulus’ terms for a peace treaty were so harsh that the Carthaginians had no other choice but to fight on.   Buoyed by the arrival of Spartan mercenaries in the spring of 255 BCE, the Carthaginians were able to field another army. Led by the Spartan Xanthippus, this force met the Romans at the Bagradas River where the Spartan utilized his cavalry and war elephants on open ground to overwhelm and annihilate the Romans. The consular army was completely wiped out, and Regulus himself was captured. The Carthaginians would live to fight another day.   The Battle of the Aegates Islands  Regulus Returning to Carthage, by Andries Cornelis Lens, 1791. Source: Hermitage Museum   Despite the Carthaginians’ desperate victory over Regulus and the end of the immediate threat, the war would drag on for 14 more years.   The command of Carthaginian land forces would in the interim be turned over to Hamilcar Barca. Demonstrating his ability to competently lead a campaign, Hamilcar fought the Romans to a stalemate on land. But the Romans were now convinced that the war would be won on the waves. Hamilcar was trapped, and he could do little more than watch as the climactic battle of the war would be waged just off the coast of Sicily.   Growing short of manpower and funds to build a new fleet, Carthage mustered 250 more ships with the intention of first re-supplying Hamilcar and then collecting some of his men to serve as marines.   Portrait of Hamilcar Barca, French engraving and etching, c. 18th century. Source: British Museum, London.   Fighting against strong winds, the Roman consul Gaius Catalus moved to intercept them before they were able to link up with Hamilcar. Sails raised and laden down with supplies, the Carthaginian fleet was unprepared for an attack. The Roman fleet, 200-300 ships strong, crashed into their adversaries, ramming, boarding, and out-maneuvering them until over half of the Carthaginian ships sank into the sea.   It was a crippling defeat. Not only was Hamilcar’s prospect of continuing the war on land dashed, but so too was Carthage’s ability to defend at sea. The Carthaginian government was destitute from over two decades of war. Unwilling and unable to realistically carry on the war effort, Carthage ordered Hamilcar to begin the negotiation of a treaty.   A Carthaginian Peace The remnants of the Marsala Shipwreck, a Punic naval ship from the 3rd century BCE. Source: Museo Archeologico Regionale Lilibeo   Carthage ordered Hamilcar to begin the negotiation of a treaty. Incensed at the idea of capitulation and eager to avoid blame and prosecution at the hands of the Court of 104, he quickly distanced himself from the proceedings.   Rome, too, was nearly broke from the conflict. To finance the construction of another fleet and continue the war, they were forced to take loans from private citizens after the Battle of Drepana. These needed to be repaid, but Rome still held all the leverage.   According to Polybius, the terms of the Treaty of Lutatius forced the Carthaginians to vacate Sicily, agree not to make war on Hiero or the Syracusans, return all Romans without ransom, and pay an indemnity of 2,200 Euboic silver talents.   Carthaginian coin minted in Spain, 237-209 BC, Valencia. Source: British Museum, London   For Rome, which typically annexed its defeated enemies, the treaty was an admission of Carthage’s power, as well as its lack of solvency. While not as harsh as the terms following the Second and Third Punic Wars, it did firmly establish Rome’s control over Sicily, a region Carthage had spent an innumerable sum of money and lives protecting over the past five centuries.   For Carthage, and particularly Hamilcar, it was seen as an insult, and in practical terms, an admission that they no longer dominated the central Mediterranean or retained the commercial benefits that came with it. This “Carthaginian Peace” would lead Polybius to relay the perhaps apocryphal story of Hamilcar forcing his son Hannibal to swear an oath upon an altar of Baal Hammon that he would always be an enemy of Rome.   First Punic War: A Precursor to Further Conflict The Oath of Hannibal, by Benjamin West, 1770. Source: Royal Collection Trust, London (ID: RCIN 405417).   To the Carthaginians, a conflict with the Romans began after answering the call of a third party. It would have felt very similar to the Sicilian Wars, conflicts which often ended in a peace treaty after a single battle or campaign.   When the Romans lost their fleet after the Battle of Drepana in 249 BCE, the Roman aristocracy responded by providing the funds, interest-free, to the state to raise 200 new ships; an act which, according to British historian Adrian Goldsworthy, “should be interpreted as a gesture of genuine patriotism.” It was certainly a sign that Roman imperialism was on the rise and that they were willing to take risks, such as the invasion of Africa, to expand their influence.   Similarly, disastrous military affairs in Sicily over a century earlier had prompted Carthage’s aristocracy to form the Court of 104, which would prosecute and crucify many of their own commanders for lack of competence, disavowing duty, or treason. Their response to adversity was factionalism, pointing fingers, and prosecution. Whereas the Romans, like Winston Churchill in 1940, would “never surrender.”   For one man, the mistakes the Carthaginians had made during the First Punic War were apparent. He had learned how his enemy fought, and he knew that if he were ever to beat them, he needed to fight like them. His name was Hannibal Barca, and his course was set for Italy.

  The Praetorian Guards were the personal bodyguard of the Roman Emperors from the reign of Augustus through to the rise of Constantine. From the first century CE to the early fourth, these soldiers had an unrivaled proximity to imperial politics. This made them incredibly important but also incredibly dangerous. From their barracks in the imperial capital, the emperor’s guards were just as likely to orchestrate their ruler’s downfall as protect him. Roman history is littered with tales of praetorian plots as ambitious guards sought to increase their power and influence. Others took it upon themselves to do away with emperors they thought no longer fit for purpose.   Imperial Guard: Who Were the Praetorians? Portrait of Octavian Caesar, Rome, c. 35-29 BCE. Source: Musei Capitolini   One way to determine whose support was important to the Roman emperors is who received a cash donative at the death or accession of an emperor. The plebians, average working Roman citizens, often benefited from this imperial largesse. So did the soldiers. Financial incentives helped keep the unruly mob from voicing too much dissent. It is telling, therefore, that in 14 CE, the will of the emperor Augustus bequeathed a payment of one thousand sesterces each to every member of the Praetorian Guard. This was significantly more than the 300 sesterces each for the legionaries.   Although they were more prominent during the imperial period, the cohors praetoria had been charged with guarding the commanders of the Republic’s armies since the 2nd century BCE. The transition from Republic to Empire, however, brought about significant changes. The Praetorians were posted in Rome to protect Octavian Caesar, and this was the first time soldiers were stationed inside the pomerium, Rome’s sacred boundary. They remained there even after Antony’s defeat at the Battle of Actium in 31 BCE, and their position was made permanent when Octavian adopted the name Augustus in 27 BCE.   Marble relief showing soldiers of the Praetorian Guard, Rome, 51-52 CE. Source: British Museum   The Praetorians’ proximity to the princeps and their important role in protecting him ensured that they enjoyed a number of considerable perks over other soldiers, not just substantially better pay. The guards were commanded by the Praetorian Prefect(s), an equestrian who often combined this ostensibly military role with a number of other administrative functions.   Many treated the Praetorians with suspicion and fear, but their proximity to the epicenter of Roman power ensured that throughout Roman history, they were often intimately involved in the grand dramas of imperial power.   Treason and Tiberius: The Rise and Fall of Sejanus Copper coin with a portrait of Tiberius (obverse), laurel wreath, and an inscription identifying Sejanus (reverse), minted in Bilbilis (Spain), 31 CE. Source: British Museum   Tiberius was the successor to Rome’s first emperor, Augustus. There is a pervasive sense from the sources that, as much as Augustus had attempted to find any successor other than Livia’s son, Tiberius was equally reticent to wield imperial authority. Suetonius records a painful exchange between Tiberius and the senate in which the new emperor awkwardly attempted to renounce the excited senate’s offer of the imperial purple in 14 CE. By 26 CE, Tiberius had retreated from political life in Rome to the villa complex at Capri on the Campanian coast. There, he reportedly descended into debauchery.   While the emperor was absent, the running of Rome was left to Lucius Aelius Sejanus, the Praetorian Prefect. Sejanus had been employed in imperial service for decades previously before being made prefect in 15 CE. He was working with an emperor who was keen to rely on a small retinue of trusted advisers.   Palais de Tibere a Capri, by unknown artist, c. 19th century. Source: Victoria and Albert Museum   Even before Tiberius’ full withdrawal from Rome, Sejanus was already advancing quickly into a position of prominence. According to Tacitus, Tiberius ordered that statues of the prefect be erected in the city to celebrate the “partner of his toils.” Perhaps more ominously, the Praetorian Guards, previously dispersed across the city, were centralized within one camp on the edge of the city.   With the emperor absent from Rome, Sejanus moved to consolidate his authority. There was still, for a time, a serious obstacle in his way in the form of Augustus’ widow and Tiberius’ mother, Livia Augusta. However, her death in 29 CE effectively left him in a position of unrivaled influence in the imperial capital. Soon, purges of senators and wealthy members of the equestrian class were organized. These treason trials rid Sejanus of possible enemies across the Roman elite. Even the imperial family was not safe. Agrippina the Elder, the widow of Tiberius’ adopted heir Germanicus, perished mysteriously in exile along with her sons.   Sejanus, prefect under Emperor Tiberius, is abused and strangled, 31 CE, by Jan Luyken, 1698. Source: Rijksmuseum   He reached the pinnacle of his power in 31 CE when he was made Roman consul, with the absent Tiberius as his colleague in office. But it was also this year that Tiberius discovered the extent of Sejanus’ ambition, including his role in the death of Tiberius’ son and second heir Drusus. Sejanus was summoned to a meeting of the senate in 31 CE where he was presented with a letter from Tiberius. It denounced him as a traitor and ordered his immediate execution.   Within a week, Sejanus was dead, but the secret was out. The Praetorians could be architects of political change in the empire. Within a decade of Sejanus’ murder, the guards elevated their own emperor when they discovered the terrified Claudius hiding in the imperial palace and made him their emperor. This was after the assassination of Caligula in a conspiracy involving the Praetorians.   Plautianus and the Severan Dynasty Portrait of Septimius Severus, Rome, c. 200-206 CE. Source: Museo Arqueological Nacional Madrid   The emperor Septimius Severus seized power in 193 CE. He was one of five rivals who emerged in the political turmoil that erupted with the assassination of the megalomaniac Commodus. Severus would eventually triumph following victory in the climactic showdown at Lugdunum, which was the largest battle ever fought by a Roman army. This left him the ruler of the Roman empire, but he needed to consolidate his authority.   While he had displayed his military acumen in command of the Roman armies, the situation in Rome itself was perhaps more precarious. Senatorial support was split between Severus and his rivals, and now there would need to be reconciliation or purges. Fortunately, Severus was able to rely on the support of his cousin, Gaius Fulvius Plautianus, who he promoted to Praetorian Prefect in 197 CE. Like Severus, Plautianus was a native of Leptis Magna, the grand trading city on the Mediterranean coast of Libya. While he is not as well known as the Sejanus, it is arguable that the influence of Plautianus at the height of his powers far exceeded that of the more notorious prefect.   Portrait head of Plautilla, wife of Caracalla, Rome, c. 200-205 CE. Source: J. Paul Getty Museum   Following an initial consolidation of power, cracks began to form. Factionalism soon cast a shadow over the Severan imperial court. Plautianus’ close relationship with the emperor saw him hoover up prestige, power, and wealth, culminating in the consulship in 203 CE, which granted him a seat in the senate.   Although Plautianus had already begun to alienate members of the Severan household, most notably the wife of the emperor, Julia Domna, he was able to confirm his prominence within the empire in 202 CE, when his daughter, Publia Fulvia Plautilla, was married to Severus’ eldest son, Caracalla.   Plautianus could not have asked for a more difficult son-in-law. The marriage between the emperor’s son and the prefect’s daughter was not a happy one. There were no offspring and the imperial heir reputedly refused to even share the same dining table or bedroom with his wife.   The relationship between Plautianus and the imperial heir was also marked by extreme antipathy. It has been suggested by some that such was Plautianus’ dislike of Caracalla that he actively advanced the cause of the heir’s brother, Geta. While the factional rivalry that was emerging between the two imperial sons may have been part of Plautianus’ political maneuverings, the extent to which he was actively involved is questionable. To be scheming too openly would have put the life of his daughter in extreme danger.   Much like with Sejanus, the scale of the prefect’s ambitions could be measured in his visibility. Statues and other images of Plautianus had been erected around the empire.   Portrait bust possibly of Gaius Fulvius Plautianus, Rome, c. 200 CE. Source: Vatican Museum   The collapse of Plautianus’ power, when it came, was swift and total. It began with a scheme of Caracalla. According to Cassius Dio’s account, the young man enlisted the help of his tutor, the freedman Euodus, to hire three centurions to carry out the plot. In January 205 CE, they presented Severus with “evidence” of Plautianus’ plans to have both the emperor and his heir murdered; their evidence was a letter from the prefect.   Plautianus was immediately summoned to the imperial palace. As he tried to protest his innocence, Dio claims that Caracalla lost all patience and his hatred of Plautianus bubbled up into violence. While he was restrained from delivering the final blow himself, he ordered soldiers in attendance to strike down Plautianus. Hairs from the prefect’s beard were plucked and taken next door to be presented to Julia Domna and, more horrifically, to his daughter, Plautilla. The gloating soldier proclaimed, “Look at your Plautianus!”   In the meeting of the senate that followed, Severus did not denounce the former prefect with the vehemence one might expect. Instead, he lamented the weakness of man and his own errors in bestowing honors and privileges on Plautianus. The reaction was nevertheless striking.   The condemnation of the former Praetorian Prefect’s memory, a damnatio memoriae, was ordered. All around the empire likenesses of Plautianus were vandalized and his name erased from inscriptions. Such was the extraordinary amount of wealth that Plautianus had accumulated through his office that a special administrator, the procurator ad bona Plautiani, was appointed to oversee its collection so that it could be passed back to the emperor.   Platianus’ daughter, trapped in a loveless marriage, was exiled to the island of Lipari. She would find no respite from her imprisonment until Caracalla’s own accession in 211 CE, when the new emperor finally felt emboldened enough to have his estranged wife murdered.   Imperial Ambitions: Macrinus Murders Caracalla Portrait bust of Caracalla, Roman, c. 211-217. Source: Altes Museum, Berlin   While it would have been scant consolation to Plautilla, it seems somewhat fitting that Caracalla himself would be struck down by a praetorian plot within six years of his own accession. The emperor, vilified in the sources as a cruel tyrant, saw himself as a soldier and an emulator of Alexander the Great. His reign began with a brief campaign in Germania, and it concluded, in 217 CE, with a campaign in the east against the Parthians. Traveling with the emperor and his armies was Marcus Opellius Macrinus, the Praetorian Prefect.   Macrinus, a native of Mauretania in north Africa, was a member of the equestrian class. Over the course of his career he demonstrated an aptitude for administration and the law, and he was valued by Septimius Severus for his skill as a bureaucrat. Cassius Dio describes his appointment in a role to supervise the traffic along the Via Flaminia. As it happens, for a period of time Macrinus had enjoyed the perks of a close relationship with Plautianus while the former prefect was at the height of his influence. This also means that Macrinus only narrowly avoided falling when Plautianus was killed for treachery.   Aureus with obverse portrait of Macrinus and reverse scene of Liberalitas, Rome, c. 271-218 CE. Source: British Museum   It was while on campaign in the east that Macrinus discovered some alarming news. An oracle in Africa foretold that Macrinus would become emperor and had gone to Rome to make the news of the prophecy public. Flavius Materianus, the urban prefect in Rome, had immediately written to Caracalla to warn him. Unfortunately for the emperor, the letter never arrived. While Materianus’ letter was lost amidst the deluge of the imperial post, another letter was dispatched directly to Macrinus to warn him. This post did arrive and prompted Macrinus to plot against the emperor. He knew that his life now depended on it.   Macrinus himself, not renowned as a man of action, devised a plot that would have someone less important strike the fatal blow. His lackey in assassination was one Julius Martialis, a soldier with a grudge against the emperor for the lack of a promotion he felt was well deserved. So, in the spring of 217 CE, while Caracalla was traveling to the lunar sanctuary at Carrhae, he stopped at the side of the road to relieve himself. It was while he was otherwise engaged that Martialis struck a fatal blow, killing the emperor. Although the soldier himself was swiftly cut down, the damage was done. Delaying slightly to attempt to dissuade any notion of his complicity in the crime, Macrinus was soon elevated as emperor.   Damaged portrait of Macrinus (probably), Roman, c. 3rd century CE. Source: Harvard Art Museums   This was not done with any great enthusiasm, it appears, but rather necessity. The looming threat of the Parthian armies had the soldiers panicked and any emperor was better than none. Their mood quickly turned, however, when Macrinus simply bought off the Parthians and retreated back to Antioch. Unpopularity festered quickly, and soon his authority would be rivaled by a teenage priest, Elagabalus. Killed in 218 CE, Macrinus’ reign was brief, and it was also unprecedented. He was the first emperor to be of equestrian status, and the first Praetorian Prefect to be elevated to the imperial purple.   Constantine and the End of Praetorian Power  Battle of the Milvian Bridge, by Pieter Lastman, 1613. Source: Kunsthalle Bremen   The middle decades of the third century CE are marked by a series of crises in which Roman power almost collapsed. There are also fewer sources to lean on, and we lack a historian comparable to Dio for an overview of the period. It is still possible to glean information about the Praetorians. It appears that despite the turbulence in the empire, they were still acting very much in their usual vein. For example, in 249 CE they assassinated the son of the emperor Philip.   View of the Remains of the Praetorian Fort (the Poecile) in Hadrian’s Villa at Tivoli, by Giovanni Battista Piranesi, 1770. Source: Harvard Art Museums   Soon, however, their power would be decisively checked. As he marched north out of the city to confront Constantine, the emperor Maxentius was able to swell his ranks with the Praetorians. Unfortunately, the battle at the Milvian Bridge in 312 CE was a decisive victory for Constantine- and Maxentius died in the melee. For the new emperor of Rome, there was only one viable course of action: the Praetorian Guard was to be definitively disbanded.   The soldiers who survived the battle at the Milvian Bridge were dispatched to various corners of the empire to bolster the legions there. In Rome itself, the castra praetoria, the praetorian camp and architectural manifestation of their power, was utterly dismantled. The age of the Praetorian Guard, Rome’s emperor makers and emperor slayers, was over.

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