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  The First Triumvirate was an informal yet powerful political alliance during the last decades of the Roman Republic, formed by Julius Caesar, Pompey the Great and Crassus. Its primary aim was to help its members overcome opposition in the Senate and share power among themselves. Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus used their combined influence and resources to support each other’s political agendas, effectively bypassing constitutional obstacles. Although the First Triumvirate was not an official institution, the alliance significantly influenced the Roman politics until its dissolution following Crassus’ death in 53 BCE.    The First Triumvirate was an Informal and Secret Alliance Left to right – the marble busts of Julius Caesar, Pompey the Great and Marcus Licinius Crassus   The First Triumvirate was an informal political alliance between Julius Caesar, Pompey the Great and Marcus Licinius Crassus. The Triumvirate was made in secret, around 60 BC, following the failure of its members to advance their political agendas in the Senate. By consolidating their power and influence and sharing their resources, the triumviri could bypass the opposition, push through their various programs, and secure lucrative positions for each member, making them the most powerful men in Rome.    It should be noted that the First Triumvirate is a misleading term, as it does not appear in any of the ancient sources. The triple alliance was an informal arrangement. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to follow historian Mary Beard and refer to it as a “Gang of Three.”    Julius Caesar, Pompey and Crassus Made a Coalition Vignette with profiles of the three Triumvirs, Raphael Morghen after Giovanni Battista Mengardi, 1791-94, The British Museum, London   The First Triumvirate emerged as a response to the political chaos and factionalism that plagued the Late Roman Republic. By the mid-1st century BC, corruption, social unrest, and military conquests had eroded the fragile equilibrium, dividing the Senate between the optimates, the conservative faction favoring the aristocracy and the populares, those who advocated for reforms to address social and economic issues.    Pompey the Great and Julius Caesar, despite their aristocratic backgrounds and personal differences, leaned towards the populares due to shared political goals. The Senate’s continuous opposition to their ambitions, particularly in recognizing Pompey’s military achievements and supporting Caesar’s political aspirations, pushed them towards an alliance with Marcus Licinius Crassus, the wealthiest man in Rome.    “The Gang of Three” Opposed The Senate Plaque from the Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus, 2nd Century BCE. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Each member of the First Triumvirate brought unique strengths to their alliance. Julius Caesar, from a prestigious aristocratic family, was a rising star with military ambitions and a keen political mind. Pompey the Great was a celebrated general, enjoying widespread support from both the army and the populace, thanks to his military successes. Marcus Licinius Crassus, the wealthiest man in Rome, sought high office and military glory, driven by a desire to match the accomplishments of his peers. Their motivations were deeply personal, fueled by a desire for power, recognition, and ability to push their political agendas without the Senate’s obstruction.    In 60 BC, Caesar returned from his governorship in Spain, seeking the consulship and a triumph. Pompey, fresh from his victories in the Third Mithridatic War, sought ratification of land settlements for his veterans in Asia, crucial for maintaining their loyalty and his power base. Crassus likely aimed to recover financial losses incurred during the food crises in the eastern provinces and to secure a legacy comparable to his allies.    The First Triumvirate Benefited Its Members Vercingetorix throws down his arms at the feet of Julius Caesar, by Lionel Royer, 1899. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Setting aside their personal differences, Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus consolidated their power and influence to achieve goals that none could secure alone. The political alliance was solidified early on with the marriage of Caesar’s daughter, Julia, to Pompey. As consul in 59 BC, Caesar bypassed the Senate and implemented his agrarian reform, redistributing land to Pompey’s veterans and the urban poor.    The next step was to secure Caesar’s governorship in Gaul, which automatically gave him command over the legions in the area. Caesar would spend the next ten years subduing the local tribes, expanding Rome’s control, and enhancing military prestige. Pompey was named governor of Spain, while Crassus got command over the army in the East. He could now engage Parthia, Rome’s powerful rival.   The End of the First Triumvirate Led to A Civil War Relief showing the soldiers of the Late Republic at the Mausoleum of Glanum, photo by Carole Roddato, 30 – 20 BCE, St.Rémy-de-Provence   Crassus hoped that victory against Parthia would bring him the military glory he desired. However, his defeat at the Battle of Carrhae in 53 BCE led to his death. The demise of Crassus and the earlier death of Julia, Caesar’s daughter and Pompey’s wife, dissolved the personal ties that kept the alliance together. Pompey, once hailed as “the Great”, who cleared Mediterranean from pirates and defeated Spartacus, Sertorius and Mithridates, now felt threatened by Caesar’s military triumphs.   The Senate saw the opportunity and allied with Pompey, demanding that Caesar return to Rome and relinquish his military command. Caesar feared that losing the legions would make him vulnerable, depriving him of power and influence. In 49 BC, Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon with his legion, sparking the civil war.   The conflict ended with Pompey’s assassination in 48 BC and Julius Caesar becoming sole master of Rome until his assassination on the Ides of March 44 BC. Another civil war followed, with the victor, Octavian, fulfilling Caesar’s dream, dismantling the Republic, and becoming Augustus, the first Roman emperor.

  In the 2nd century BCE, rapid socio-economic change was afoot for the plebeian farmers of the Roman Republic. According to the traditional historical narrative, these citizen farmers, who owned family-run smallholdings, were overburdened with military duties during the period of the Second Punic War onwards. No longer able to effectively run their farms, they were displaced by wealthy landowners who established large agricultural estates worked by slaves. This led to an exodus of now landless farmers who became destitute proletarii in urban Rome.   Citizen Farmers: The Backbone of the Roman Republic  Cincinnatus, Léon Bénouville, 1844. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Plebeian farmers were the backbone of the Roman Republic. By the late 6th century BCE, after the last Etruscan king of Rome had been overthrown, the young Roman Republic had become a state largely populated by citizen smallholders of the plebeian class. These smallholders were at the heart of Rome’s agricultural output, but they also served in the military and participated politically as citizens.   The Romans grew a variety of grains including wheat and barley as well as legumes like lentils, beans, peas, and chickpeas. As in neighboring Greece, the Romans also cultivated olives and olive oil constituted an important part of the Roman diet. From their neighbors, the Greeks and Carthaginians, the Romans also learnt much about viticulture and began to make their own wine.   Animals were also present on Roman farms. Cows provided milk whilst goats and sheep produced cheese. Of course, they could be eaten too. Oxen and mules provided extra muscle for labor-intensive tasks.   Writing in the 2nd century BCE, Cato the Elder (234–149 BCE) advised those seeking to operate a farm, that “it should have a good climate, not subject to storms; the soil should be good, and naturally strong. If possible, it should lie at the foot of a mountain and face south; the situation should be healthful, there should be a good supply of laborers, it should be well watered, and near it there should be a flourishing town, or the sea, or a navigable stream, or a good and much traveled road.”   Farming and Roman Virtue Cincinnatus Leaves the Plough to Dictate Laws to Rome, Juan Antonio Ribera, 1806. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The role of the farmer was equally important to the Romans in an ideological sense. Romanitas, or “Roman-ness” — the virtues the Romans ascribed to themselves — consisted of the threefold identity of citizen, solider, and farmer. The ideal Roman who embodied this threefold identity was Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, a legendary statesman who lived between 519 and 430 BCE. When Rome was threatened with destruction, Cincinnatus reluctantly left his farm and accepted the position of dictator. After defeating the enemy threatening Rome, he promptly relinquished his dictatorial powers and returned to his humble life as a farmer, thereby exemplifying the virtues the Romans most admired in citizens, soldiers, and farmers.   Roman writers, historians, and philosophers were keen to sing the praises of the humble farmer. For example, Cato claimed that “it is from the farming class that the bravest men and the sturdiest soldiers come, their calling is most highly respected, their livelihood is most assured and is looked on with the least hostility, and those who are engaged in that pursuit are least inclined to be disaffected.”   Conquest, Slavery, and War  Plaque from the Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus, 2nd Century BCE. Source: Wikimedia Commons   By the late 3rd century and throughout the 2nd century BCE, an increased number of socio-economic and political stressors began to burden Roman smallholdings. These were largely caused by the military responsibilities that land-owning farmers were expected to uphold and the ever-increasing influx of slaves from successful conquests. To compound these factors further, wealthy Romans bought up the land and established Latifundia (large agricultural estates) that replaced the family-run smallholdings that had previously made up the majority of Roman farms.   Rome’s dependence on landholding farmers for military service was largely unproblematic if the campaign season was short, and wars were not fought too far from home. During the Second Punic War (218 to 201 BCE), however, the fighting took longer, and conscripted farmers were kept away from their land for longer periods of time. According to historians like Tim Cornell, this made it more difficult for smallholders to operate profitable farms which were often sold off to the wealthy as a result.   The Smallholders are Displaced by Slaves A Roman Farm, John Williamson, 1913. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Several ancient writers paint a grim picture of the situation of small, family-run farms in the 2nd century BCE. According to Plutarch (46 – 119 CE), a law had been passed to prevent the rich from gobbling up all of the suitable farmland by limiting the legal ownership of land to 500 acres, but the wealthy were able to bypass this law by purchasing the land under different names or via other dubious legal loopholes. The result was that, “The poor, who were thus deprived of their farms, were no longer either ready, as they had formerly been, to serve in war or careful in the education of their children; insomuch that in a short time there were comparatively few freemen remaining in all Italy, which swarmed with workhouses full of foreign-born slaves.”   Appian (95 – 165 CE), a Greek historian who lived during the reigns of Trajan, Hadrian, and Antoninus Pius, also described the situation in the 2nd century BCE in gloomy terms. The rich “came to cultivate vast tracts instead of single estates, using slaves as laborers and herdsmen,” wrote Appian. “Thus, certain powerful men became extremely rich, and the race of slaves multiplied throughout the country, while the Italian people dwindled in numbers and strength, being oppressed by penury, taxes, and military service. If they had any respite from these evils they passed their time in idleness, because the land was held by the rich, who employed slaves instead of freemen as cultivators.”   The Latifundia and Moral Decline Cicero Denounces Catiline, Cesare Maccari, 1889. Source: Wikimedia Commons   As we can discern from Plutarch and Appian, beyond the socio-economic impacts, the ancient historians equated the displacement of the family-run smallholdings with the slave-dependent Latifundia with a concurrent moral decline that degraded the Roman Republic. As such, we must be aware that the sentiments they expressed were hardly dispassionate historical accounts and reflected their own moral outlooks, but this is in itself an interesting insight into how the Romans regarded the humble farmer as morally superior.   Pliny the Elder (23/24 – 79 CE), a Roman philosopher and author, was similarly critical of the Latifundia which had come to dominate large tracts of the Roman and Italian countryside. “Under the hands of honest men everything prospers all the better,” he wrote, “But at the present day these same lands are tilled by slaves whose legs are in chains, by the hands of malefactors and men with a branded face!”   Pliny’s account indicates that similar moral and socio-economic concerns regarding land distribution and agriculture persisted into the imperial period. “If we must confess the truth, it is the wide-spread domains that have been the ruin of Italy, and soon will be that of the provinces as well. Six proprietors were in possession of one half of Africa, at the period when the Emperor Nero had them put to death,” he wrote, concerning the period roughly between 54 and 68 CE. “It is the very worst plan of all, to have land tilled by slaves let loose from the houses of correction, as, indeed, is the case with all work entrusted to men who live without hope,” he added.   The Gracchi Brothers  The Gracchi, Jean-Baptiste Claude Eugène Guillaume, 19th Century. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The displacement of plebeian farmers in the 2nd century BCE created the perfect storm for ambitious politicians to channel the anger of the disaffected masses against the wealthy landowners and patricians who were establishing Latifundia across the countryside.   In 133 BCE, Tiberius Gracchus was elected tribune. He promised to address the problem by redistributing the public land of Rome more equitably and to impose limits on the amount of land that could be owned by individuals. Crucially, the landless farmers who had moved into urban Rome would be reallocated plots of land where they could resume their vocations.   Cincinnatus Receiving Deputies of the Senate, Alexandre Cabanel, 1843. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Unsurprisingly, the Senate opposed Tiberius’ reforms and his fellow tribune Marcus Octavius attempted to veto his proposals in the Plebeian Assembly. Tiberius was initially successful in   overcoming these challenges and had Octavius forced out of the Assembly by his supporters. However, when he ran for a second term in 132 BCE, he was met with a political mob led by the senator Scipio Nasica. A fight ensued between the supporters of both men, resulting in the death of Tiberius and many of his companions.   In 123 BCE, Tiberius’ brother Gaius Gracchus became tribune. He too secured popular support on the basis that he would introduce wide sweeping reforms which also earned him the ire of the Senate. In 121 BCE, when Gaius ran for a third term in office, he was ambushed by a political mob led by consul Lucius Opimius and killed. A further 3,000 Gracchi supporters were executed by the Senate after his death.   An Alternative Explanation  Roman Banquet, Joseph Coomans, 1876. Source: Wikimedia Commons   It is generally the mainstream view among modern historians that the landlessness of the plebeian farmers was caused by the pressures of military conscription – particularly in the Second Punic War – combined with the widescale land acquisition of the patricians who staffed their new agricultural estates with a massive influx of slaves.   However, this view has been challenged by historian Nathan Rosenstein in his book, Rome at War: Farms, Families, and Death in the Middle Republic. According to Rosenstein, the displacement of plebeian farmers was instead caused by demographic stresses induced by a “baby boom” that occurred after the Second Punic War. The result was that there were too many men competing for too little land. The smallholdings which had been the backbone of the Roman Republic were subdivided too much to be feasible and thus many farmers were forced into the cities where they became impoverished proletarii – citizens who owned little or no land.   Roman Agriculture and Socio-Economic Change The Fruit Vendor, John William Godward, 1917. Source: Wikimedia Commons   We may never know for sure exactly what combination of factors caused widespread socio-economic change in the rural areas of the Roman Republic. Compelling demographic, literary, and archaeological evidence has been supplied by historians who adhere to the traditional narrative such a s P. A. Brunt, as well as by those like Rosenstein who have offered alternative explanations.   It is also true that we may never know exactly how quickly or comprehensively the socio-economic landscape changed in rural areas. Rosenstein for example, proposes that the Latifundia became the dominant mode of farming in the 1st century BCE, a century or so later than the ancient historians described this transformation occurring.   In any case, a socio-economic transformation did occur that leaves us with plenty of food for thought. As we ponder the implications posed by this particular epoch of Roman history, we may turn a little closer to home, and question what risks and opportunities we are faced with in the present day by the myriad of rapid changes taking place within our own economic, social, and political structures. Thus, as is often the case in history, by looking into the past, we may be holding up a mirror to ourselves.

  With its oligarchic government, composed of the ephors, the Gerousia, and the two kings, Sparta’s government was an outlier in ancient Greece. Thanks to Sparta’s agōgē, a unique system of civil-military education, the word Spartan has become a byword for military discipline and austere living. This was Sparta, at least as we think of it; but politics in the Laconian city-state were not fixed. Like its neighbors, Sparta experienced periods of reform and conservatism that sometimes threatened to shake its foundations apart.   Lycurgus the Lawgiver of Sparta  Lycurgus of Sparta, Merry Joseph Blondel, 1828. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The popular vision of Sparta we hold today is due to the reforms of Lycurgus, a semi-mythical lawgiver of uncertain historicity who is said to have introduced Sparta’s peculiar constitution and military education. The date at which he introduced the Great Rhetra (“Great Proclamation”) is unclear, although by the reckoning of Herodotus, it was sometime before the reigns of King Leon and Agasicles, who ruled in the 6th century BCE, although many modern historians tends to date Lycurgus’ reforms at some point in the 7th century BCE.   Plutarch tells us in The Parallel Lives that Xenophon, Aristotle, Timaeus, Simonides, and others could not agree when it was that Lycurgus lived, so the ancient Greeks could not be sure when Sparta’s unique constitution was introduced, much less ourselves.   According to Plutarch, Lycurgus traveled extensively before returning to Sparta to introduce his radical reforms. First he went to Crete, where he admired their “simple and severe” civilization, and from there he traveled to Asia Minor where he also found elements of the “extravagant and luxurious” Ionian way of life to be worthy. In Egypt, Lycurgus “ardently admired their separation of the military from the other classes of society that he transferred it to Sparta, and by removing mechanics and artisans from participation in the government, made his civil polity really refined and pure.”   The Reforms of Lycurgus: Government Lycurgus of Sparta, Jean-Jacques Le Barbier, 1791. Source: Wikimedia Commons   We can infer from Plutarch’s account that, whether Lycurgus was a historical figure or not, the Spartans believed their system to be a combination of the best elements from a variety of civilizations. The result was an essentially oligarchic government with democratic and monarchical elements.   Sparta had two kings, belonging to the Eurypontid and Agiad dynasties. Their responsibilities were generally confined to military, religious, and judicial matters. Each king served as a check on the other’s power and according to modern historians like Paul Cloche, “the Spartan kings exercised powers extremely reduced and inferior to those of the Gerousia and the ephors,” although there were occasions when they wielded greater power, particularly in the later Hellenistic period.   The ephors were the most powerful members of Spartan society and wielded executive power. The ephorate consisted of five officials who were elected for terms of one year by the Ekklesia, the citizen assembly of Sparta. Ephors were only allowed to serve one term. This is in contrast to the Gerousia, a council of 28 elders over the age of 60 who served for life. They debated policy and proposed alternatives to the demos.   The historian Charles D. Hamilton assesses that “The very nature of the Spartan constitution provided a kind of dynamic stability. The anonymous but extremely powerful Gerousia of the 28 elders guaranteed relative stability to Spartan politics, but the dual kingship and annually elected college of ephors allowed a certain freedom of choice to the Spartans.”   The Reforms of Lycurgus: Social Class Statue of Lycurgus of Sparta at the Law Courts of Brussels, Pierre Armand Cattier, c. 1866-1883. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Lycurgus also introduced sweeping reforms that transformed Sparta’s social classes, economy, and education system. At the top of the new social hierarchy were the Spartiates. These were free citizens of the city and members of the demos. Full citizenship was dependent on passing through Sparta’s military education system, the agōgē, and membership of the military dining mess halls known as the syssitia. Spartiates were mostly descended from the original inhabitants of the city, but exceptions were sometimes made.   Below the Spartiates were the Perioikoi. They were second-class citizens of the Spartan polity and typically lived outside Sparta in the surrounding lands of Laconia or Messenia. Although they did not enjoy the full range of citizenship privileges of the Spartiates, they were free and often engaged in the commercial and manufacturing tasks that the Spartiates were too busy soldiering to pursue. When the Perioikoi were called up to fight, they were equipped as hoplites like the Spartans.   At the bottom of the ladder were the helots. There is quite a large degree of scholarly debate concerning their exact status. They have variably been described as state serfs or as slaves. In any case, they enjoyed only limited freedoms, were tied to the land, and were responsible for the majority of Sparta’s agricultural output.   Decadence and Decay in the 3rd Century BCE Photograph of the ruins of Sparta’s theater, 2007. Source: Wikimedia Commons   By the 4th and 3rd centuries BCE, Sparta had begun to experience a demographic decline coupled with an apparent loss of the civil discipline necessary for the laws of Lycurgus to remain functional.   According to a paper published by historian Timothy Doran, the number of adult male Spartiates declined from approximately 8,000 in c. 480 BCE to about 1,000 by the mid-4th century. This was due to a combination of socio-economic and cultural reasons, not least because the requirements for full Spartan citizenship were extremely exclusive and few outsiders were permitted to join the ranks of the Spartiates.   The Reforms of Agis IV The Spartan Ephors, Ludwig Löffler, 1862. Source: Wikimedia Commons   By the time King Agis IV became one of the two kings in 245 BCE, the demographic crisis was coupled with rampant wealth inequality. “The wealth of the state streamed into the hands of a few men, and poverty became the general rule,” wrote Plutarch. “Thus, there were left of the old Spartan families not more than seven hundred, and of these there were perhaps a hundred who possessed land and allotment; while the ordinary throng, without resources and without civic rights, lived in enforced idleness, showing no zeal or energy in warding off foreign wars, but ever watching for some opportunity to subvert and change affairs at home.”   The young king Agis, desiring to restore Sparta to its former glory, proposed several reforms, which included the relief of debtors, redivision of land, and crucially the replenishment of the Spartiate population.   About 4,500 kleroi (lots) of land would be redivided and granted to the Spartiates. A further 15,000 kleroi would be given to the Perioikoi. To bolster the number of Spartiates, suitable Perioikoi and xenoi (foreigners) would be granted Spartan citizenship, providing that they were physically fit, attractive, and devoid of aliments or disfigurement. Given the Spartan obsession with physical prowess, it is hardly surprising that Agis insisted that suitable new citizens be both physically attractive and capable, since they would intermarry and breed with the existing Spartiate population. The famous agōgē would also be restored and yet again become a requirement for citizenship.   Agis Defeated  The Death of Agis, Nicolas-André Monsiau, c. 1787. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Agis’ reforms proved popular with the demos, but he was opposed by his co-king Leonidas II and a number of the ephors. Naturally, the wealthy stood to lose if his redistribution of the land succeeded and thus, they also opposed the king.   Agis used several political devices to push the reforms through. He argued that they were consistent with the laws of Lycurgus and gave up his own lands and money, preferring instead to embody the virtues of Spartan austerity which faded away. Agis and his supporters also attacked Leonidas II for having married a foreign – possibly Persian – wife in violation of the custom that those supposedly descended from Heracles may only marry other Heraclids.   Despite managing to have Leonidas exiled, enacting the reforms proved difficult and the wealthy would not consent to the redistribution of their lands. Whilst Agis led a military campaign against the Achaean League, Leonidas was placed back on the throne by his supporters and Agis was apprehended upon his return. The ephors staged a show trial and he was sentenced to death by strangulation. His reforms were repealed immediately after his death.   Cleomenes III’s Dilemma Silver tetradrachm of Cleomenes III, c. 227-222 BCE. Source: Classical Numismatics Group   After Agis’ execution, Leonidas forced the widow of his deceased rival to marry his son, Cleomenes III. Ironically, it would be Cleomenes who again pushed for reforms in a similar guise to those proposed by his father’s late rival. According to Plutarch, “Cleomenes came to the throne, and saw that the citizens were by that time altogether degenerate.”   Cleomenes faced the same dilemmas Agis had grappled with. “The rich neglected the common interests for their own private pleasure and aggrandizement,” Plutarch tells us. “The common people, because of their wretched state at home had lost all readiness for war and all ambition to maintain the ancient Spartan discipline, and he himself, Cleomenes, was king only in name, while the whole power was in the hands of the ephors.”   The Reforms of Cleomenes III Hoplites depicted on black-figure pottery, Ancient Greek, c. 5th century BCE. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Cleomenes introduced a similar set of reforms to Agis. The agōgē was reinstated, land redistribution was introduced, and debts were forgiven. There was again the urgent need to replenish the number of Spartiates to which Cleomenes responded by inducting the best of the Perioikoi and xenoi into their number. He managed to supply the Spartan army with a further 4,000 hoplites this way.   Introducing these reforms required clever politicking; after all, Cleomenes was aware of the fate that had befallen Agis. To achieve his aims, he exiled 80 Spartan families who opposed him, but insisted that they would be able to return when his reforms were implemented and set aside plots of land for each of them. He also acquired more power for himself, more akin to the other Hellenistic monarchies than a typical Spartan king, which prevented the ephors from mounting an effective challenge.   A Spartan Woman Giving A Shield to Her Son, Jean Jacques François Lebarbie, 1805. Source: Portland Art Museum   In Doran’s estimation, Cleomenes’ reforms proved successful as a military and social system allowing a level of Spartan military activity that had not been possible in well over a hundred years.” Unfortunately for the Spartans, the Macedonians were drawn into the power struggle over the Peloponnese and Cleomenes was defeated by the Macedonian King Antigonus Doson at the Battle of Sellasia in 222 BCE. Cleomenes took his own life whilst exiled in Egypt and his reforms in Sparta were largely undone.

  For his seminal work, The History of the Peloponnesian War, the ancient Greek writer Thucydides is heralded as the father of scientific history. Unlike earlier historians, who based their accounts on legends, hearsay, and divine intervention, Thucydides’ historiographical approach was modeled on impartiality, evidence, and analysis. Moreover, Thucydides remains relevant today in the fields of International Relations and political philosophy. His analysis of the Peloponnesian War raises questions about the nature of international politics that remain important today. One episode, the Melian Dialogue, poses the question: does might make right?   Context of the Melian Dialogue: The Peloponnesian War Pericles Gives the Funeral Speech, Philipp von Foltz, 1852. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The Peloponnesian War was a conflict that engulfed the Greek world between 431 and 403 BCE. The war was fought between the two most powerful Greek city-states, Athens and Sparta and their allies who belonged to the Delian League, led by Athens and the Peloponnesian League,  led by Sparta.   The war was characterized by long periods of stalemate, largely owing to the strengths and weaknesses of both sides. Athens held supremacy at sea, guaranteed by its capable navy, whereas Sparta enjoyed the military advantage on land, secured by its formidable army of professional citizen soldiers. The war impacted almost every corner of the Greek world which sprawled across the Mediterranean. For instance, Athenian forces ventured as far West as Sicily, where they suffered a crushing defeat in 413 BCE. Meanwhile, Spartan forces embarked on an expedition to the northeast where they captured Byzantium in 411 BCE.   In the final phase of the war, between 414 and 404 BCE, the Persians, who had grown wary of Athens’ maritime power, granted Sparta financial support which enabled the Spartans to build a capable fleet of their own. In 405 BCE, under the skilled Spartan Admiral Lysander, the Spartans sailed to the Dardanelles to cut off Athens from vital grain shipments. The Athenian navy was forced to pursue but was decisively defeated at the Battle of Aegospotami. Without the ability to import food, the Athenians were forced to surrender, and the war ended with the Peloponnesian League victorious.   The Siege of Melos precarious geostrategic position of Melos during the Peloponnesian War. Source: Wikimedia Commons   In the summer of 416 BCE, Athens invaded Melos, an island in the Aegean Sea. The events that would transpire there would be among the most infamous in the war. The Melians, a Doric people, shared ancestral ties with Sparta but maintained neutrality during the war.   Nevertheless, the Athenians demanded that Melos submit and pay tribute to Athens. The Melians, not wanting to give up their political autonomy and freedom, refused, and thus, the Athenians besieged the island’s capital city. The Melians surrendered in the winter, but the Athenians showed them no mercy. All the adult men were put to the sword and the women and children were enslaved.   The Melian Dialogue  Left: Bust of Thucydides, c. 100 CE Roman copy of a Greek original, c. 4th century BCE. Right: A statue of Thucydides in front of the Austrian Parliament Building. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Thucydides’ telling of the confrontation between Athens and Melos in The History of the Peloponnesian War is heavy with pathos. The Melian Dialogue occurs before the siege itself when the Athenians are trying to persuade the Melians to submit to their power. The Melians refuse, and the dialogue consists of the back-and-forth arguments made by both sides.   In the words of Felix Martin Wassermann, “One of the main purposes of the Melian Dialogue is to make clear that both sides have a point. Its dramatic power is increased by the presentation of two opposite though complementary political ideals and attitudes.”   It is for this reason that the Melian Dialogue has enduring appeal and importance, not only to historians but to scholars and practitioners of International Relations, geopolitics, and military theory.   The Melian Argument Hoplites in battle depicted on red-figure pottery, c. 520-510 BCE. Source: Wikimedia Commons   When confronted by the Athenian ultimatum, the Melians make an appeal to justice and morality. They tell the Athenians: “we trust that the gods may grant us fortune as good as yours, since we are just men fighting against unjust.” Such an argument speaks to a sentiment that there is a natural sense of justice that underpins the fates of nations and men.   The Melians also present more grounded arguments in terms of cause and effect. They assert that the unjust attack of the Athenians upon a neutral city-state would compel others to react, namely the Spartans who shared kinship with the Melians and were already at war with Athens. The Melians declared that “what we want in power will be made up by the alliance of the Lacedaemonians, who are bound, if only for very shame, to come to the aid of their kindred.”   The Athenian Argument Battle of Marathon, Georges Rochegrosse, 1859. Source: Wikimedia Commons   In Wassermann’s estimation, “It is a typical aspect of Athenian character that even at this moment of strength, and, as the latter treatment of the reluctant island shows, supreme ruthlessness, the Athenians try not only to conquer, but to convince.” To this end, the Athenians urge the Melians to think of self-preservation and surrender to the more powerful force.   Functional replica of an ancient Greek Trireme. Source: Hellenic Navy/Wikimedia Commons   From the outset, the Athenians banish all moral sentiments from their arguments, saying to the Melians: “since you know as well as we do that right, as the world goes, is only in question between equals in power, while the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.” In other words, the Athenians have a right to treat the Melians however they so wish because they enjoy greater power over them. It is the argument that might makes right.   “The Strong Do What They Can and the Weak Suffer What They Must…” Hoplites at war depicted on black-figure pottery, The Eagle Painter, c. 530-520 BCE. Source: the British Museum   The arguments presented by both sides in the Melian Dialogue transcend the boundaries of the Peloponnesian War and pose questions about the inherent nature of international politics itself. The Athenian approach to foreign affairs, which is rooted in security and power, closely mirrors the tenets of realism in International Relations theory. Owing to his presentation of Athenian foreign policy, Thucydides is sometimes credited as the father of realist political thought.   Realist theory supposes that in international politics, there is no moral authority above the state, which leads to a situation of anarchy. In this anarchic landscape, all states are motivated by fear and mutual distrust and must therefore seek power and security to safeguard their continued existence. In the words of the realist thinker Hans Morgenthau, a statesman necessarily “thinks in terms of interest defined as power.” Similarly, in The Tragedy of Great Power Politics, John J. Mearsheimer wrote, “The sad fact is that international politics has always been a ruthless and dangerous business, and it is likely to remain that way.”   These sentiments can clearly be identified in the Athenian argument. W. Julian Korab-Karpowicz asserts that “Since such an authority above states does not exist, the Athenians argue that the only right in the world of anarchy is the right of the stronger to dominate the weaker.” In such a world, the appeal of the Melians to justice matters not, as indeed the Athenians “explicitly equate right with might, and exclude considerations of justice from foreign affairs.”   Realism and the Peloponnesian War Frieze from the Nereid Monument, c. 390-380 BCE. Source: the British Museum   The tenants of realism can be identified elsewhere in the work of Thucydides. His assessment of the cause for the war is often cited as a classical example of realist thought and the balance of power theory. According to Thucydides, “It was the rise of Athens and the fear that this inspired in Sparta that made war inevitable.”   The balance of power theory posits that states ensure their survival by preventing any single state from acquiring overwhelming military power. When one state becomes significantly stronger, the theory predicts that it will exploit weaker neighbors, compelling them to form a defensive coalition. From this perspective,   Evidently, Sparta was concerned with the balance of power in the Greek world. The continued growth of the Athenian empire was perceived as a threat to Spartan security and other city-states, such as Corinth, also feared that they would be unable to protect their interests if the Athenians grew too powerful. These anxieties made a war with Athens “inevitable” as Thucydides put it.   The Thucydides Trap USS Nimitz, 2010. Source: United States Navy   Given the value of Thucydides’ account of the Peloponnesian War and his insights into the nature of the beast that is international politics, it is perhaps unsurprising that modern scholars and strategic practitioners are keen to study his work for lessons about the present and future.   One such scholar is the American political scientist Graham T. Allison who coined the term “Thucydides Trap”. Allison was keen to examine why there is a tendency for emerging powers and great powers to go to war, especially when there is a risk that the latter will be displaced by the former. Allison arrived at that famous quote by Thucydides “It was the rise of Athens and the fear that this inspired in Sparta that made war inevitable.”   Almost 2,500 years later, this one sentence written by Thucydides could apply to a myriad of conflicts — one only has to swap out the names Athens and Sparta for it to be applicable. A study conducted by Allison at Harvard University’s Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs found that out of 16 historical cases in which an emerging power rivaled an established great power, 12 of them resulted in conflict.   In recent years, the term has attracted a tremendous amount of buzz in discussions concerning the rise of China and the challenge it could pose to the United States as the world’s ruling hegemon. More broadly, a spate of wars across the world and pervasive global instability have highlighted the enduring importance of Thucydides’ work.

  San Agustin is an archaeological park located in the region of Huila, southern Colombia. It is known as the major complex of megalithic sculptures of pre-Hispanic America. This archaeological park conserves the lithic remains of one of the most mysterious pre-Columbian cultures in the country, whose origins and reasons for disappearance are still unknown.   What Do We Know About This Culture? Archaeological Park of San Agustin by Martin Gray. Source: Sacred Sites, UNESCO   The archaeological complex of San Agustín is considered the world’s biggest necropolis, whose temples and sculptures correspond to various communities that shared social structures and systems of beliefs. Their story has been unfolded by archaeological research that has studied the sculptures and temples found in these archaeological sites since the 18th century.   The culture of San Agustín settled on the macizo Colombiano, a mountain cluster that marks the end of the Andes Cordillera and splits into three smaller mountain ranges to the north, which shapes Colombia’s topography. The culture of San Agustín gets its name from the village of San Agustin, an urban settlement close to where the archaeological remains were found.   Parque Arqueológico de San Agustín by Mario Carvajal. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Evidence of the culture of San Austin has been found in over 300 archaeological sites in an area of 3,000 square meters (Duque, 2017). The lithic elements are spread over a geographical area bounded by the Chocoan rainforest to the west, the Andean Cordillera to the south, and the Amazonian rainforest to the east. Primary sites include Mesitas, where the oldest tombs were found, and La Estación, the most important architectural structure (Duque, 2017). Other important sites include the Alto de los Ídolos, the Alto de las Piedras, El Purutal and La Pelota, and La Chaquira, a big rock carved in-situ facing a valley and exhibiting three faces pointing towards different directions: a jaguar to the horizon, a face looking at the north and a female entity looking to the south (Palomo, 2023). The location of nearby rock deposits suggests that this community had sophisticated knowledge of techniques to move heavy loads of rock through uneven terrain.   Parque Arqueológico de San Agustín by Sandra Helena González, 2018. Source: Banco de la República   What is peculiar about this culture is that it vanished from the historical record among local inhabitants. They knew about the monolithic rests but could not identify the makers and the purposes of such sculptures and temples (Duque, 2017). Ritual elements, residential units, mortuary temples, and tombs caught the attention of explorers in the times of the Conquest of the Americas in the 18th century. This led to pillaging from former explorers who were seeking treasures and wealth. However, even when the archaeological region was considered a site of national interest, robberies and looting did not stop.   Animal figure with crooked fingers. Source: Deutsche Digitale Bibliothek and the Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin   In the 18th century, the first person who accounted San Agustin’s lithic industry was the Spanish Franciscan priest Juan de Santa Gertrudis, who arrived on the continent in 1755. This was the period when Spanish colonial power settled in what was known as the Viceroyalty of Nueva Granada. Juan de Santa Gertrudis published his “discoveries” in an essay called Maravillas de la Naturaleza (Marvels of Nature), where he described San Agustín. Later, Francisco José de Caldas in 1797 and Agustín Codazzi in the mid-19th century made considerable contributions to the illustration of the archaeological site and opened doors for archaeological interest from Colombian researchers in the 19th and 20th centuries (Palomo, 2023).   German archaeologist Konrad Theodor Preuss was the first scientist to research the archeological sites. He arrived in the Colombian city of Barranquilla in 1913 and traveled down the River Magdalena until he reached the region where the sculptures were covered by soil and vegetation. Fascinated by his discoveries, he illegally packed 21 statues and sent them to Europe, now retained by the Ethnological Museum in Berlin (Silva, 2016). There is an active campaign for repatriating these sculptures from the Ethnological Museum in Berlin in present times.   The constant uncontrolled looting of the archaeological pieces continued, making the state buy lands and properties and declare the zone an archaeological protected region in 1941 (Duque, 2017). Some decades later, the park was declared a national monument in 1993 and inscribed in UNESCO’s World Heritage list in 1995.   Where Did This Community Come From? Arte Monumental Prehistórico, Plancha 15, by Konrad Preuss, 1931. Source: Ensayos Históricos y Arqueológicos   Colombian archaeological research proposes a timeline that sets this culture’s formation period from 1000 BCE to the 1st century CE (Duque, 2017). However, more recent research proposes earlier origins to even 3000 BCE (González, 2013). The period where it is believed all the monolithic monuments and lithic temples were built is called the Classical Regional Period and corresponds to the 1st century CE to 900 CE (Duque, 2017). It is believed that the culture of San Agustín gathered different social settlements that shared common social structures and beliefs with origins in the Amazon Jungle (González, 2013).   It is still unknown why, at the time of the Conquest of Colombia, the monuments were abandoned in the place where one of the main pre-Hispanic Colombian cultures inhabited. The lithic temples and residencies were believed to have been left behind around 1530, only a few decades after Christopher Columbus inaugurated the colonial era in the Americas. Because of the size of the monuments, which are lower in size than those of other more popularized pre-Hispanic cultures, such as the Inca (Tahuantisuyo), Maya-Mexica, or Aztec, the nature rapidly covered most of the rocks, hiding them from explorers and inhabitants’ gaze.   The lithic architecture and mythical representation Excavation in Quinchana with worker by Luis Duque Gómez, 1946. Source: Ensayos Históricos y Arqueológicos   The houses are believed to have been built with wooden pillars stuck on a circular platform. The walls were made of bahareque, an ancient building technique found in many communities in the Americas that consisted of a mixture of mud and hay intercalated with wooden sticks. The roofs consisted of conical structures made of hay. The residential units sometimes were mixed with mortuary functions and have been found dispersed around the territory and not as urban clusters.   Local archaeology suggests that mortuary temples served as places for commemorating the death of relevant social people who were believed to have a special connection with spiritual forces (Jáuregui, 2022). This suggests that there was a hierarchized social structure linked to cosmological entities that were represented in the ceremonial sculptures.   Archaeological Park of San Agustin by Martin Gray. Source: Sacred Sites, UNESCO   Although the meaning of all lithic representations remains unknown, most of the lithic industry of San Agustin consisted of monumental representation and a characteristic symbolical style of naturalism and mythical zoomorphic and anthropomorphic. These entities were represented with detailed carved features and the use of color and pigments. Many statues represent life and death, the forces of nature, felines, reptiles, and mythical ancestry (Arango, 2010).   El doble-yo by Luis Alejandro Bernal Romero. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Some design motifs include a squared mouth with prominent fangs related to the myth of the Jaguar found in other Amazonian indigenous communities that inhabit the region nowadays. The representation of the duality of eagle-snake and other animals also repeats and has been found among other pre-Hispanic civilizations (Arango, 2010).   Other details include small facial details such as soft smiles and head and wrist accessories. Most of the statues show the articulation of animal forms and a basic human figure, which shows a different way of thinking from Western civilization. Instead of conceiving nature from the perspective of culture, these images represent a zoomorphic vision of nature or culture conceived from the perception of nature (Velandia, 1999).   One of the most beautiful sites is the fountain of Lavapatas, a series of channels carved in the stone where a small river runs down the hill. In this place, carved figures have been found, and the site is believed to be used for ritual and ceremonial purification rites (Duque, 2017). The architectural constructions have also revealed the community’s deep knowledge of astronomy, yearly cycles, and astral alignments.   The Current State of the San Agustín La Chaquira, Iroz, 2009. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The archaeological site of San Agustín opened research paths for the development of Colombian archaeology as a formal discipline. It has posited the relevant question about the still unknown origins of pre-Hispanic cultures, whose routes of migration and adaptative processes are still subject to research. As with many other archaeological sites that foreign explorers discovered, San Agustin joins the list of archaeological sites whose material culture is retained in places where they do not belong.   Nowadays, San Agustin is one of the main tourist attractions in Colombia for those interested in history and culture. The national interest that generated the remains in the 20th century and the inscription of the park as a World’s Cultural Heritage in the 90s have created a space for reflection on the origins of Colombian communities and the preservation of the stones and temples that rise in an extensive terrain dedicated only to archaeological research and cultural promotion.   Bibliography   Arango, T. (2010). Cultura Megalítica de San Agustín. Universidad Distrital Francisco José de Caldas. Museo del Oro del Banco de la República. Retrieved from https://www.todacolombia.com/culturas-precolombinas-en-colombia/cultura-san-agustin-3.html.   Duque, J. P. (2017). San Agustín. Retrieved from https://www.banrepcultural.org/biblioteca-virtual/credencial-historia/numero-335/san-agustin.   González, V. (2013). ¿Qué sabemos de San Agustín?. Boletín de Historia y Antigüedades – Enero.   Jáuregui, D. (2022). ¿Qué tan antiguas son las estatuas de San Agustín?. Retrieved from https://www.senalcolombia.tv/cultura/restos-arqueologicos-san-agustin-antiguedad.   Palomo, A. (2023). San Agustín, una visita a la misteriosa “biblioteca en piedra” más importante de América Latina. Retrieved from https://elpais.com/elviajero/2023-06-14/san-agustin-una-visita-a-la-misteriosa-biblioteca-en-piedra-mas-importante-de-america-latina.html.   Silva, V. (2016). Preuss, el alemán que descubrió San Agustín y se robó 21 estatuas. Las 2 Orillas. Retrieved from https://www.las2orillas.co/el-aleman-que-descubrio-san-agustin-y-se-robo-21-estatuas/.   Velandia, C. (1999). The archaeological culture of San Agustín. Towards a new interpretation. In Archeology in Latin America. Routledge, London.

  Radclyffe Hall is today best known as the author of the once-vilified 1928 novel The Well of Loneliness, which is now celebrated as a landmark work of lesbian fiction and credited with ushering in a wave of lesbian pulp fiction later in the twentieth century. Like Stephen Gordon, the protagonist of her most famous work, Hall led a difficult life, first as an unwanted child and later as a lesbian in a society that neither recognized nor tolerated same-sex relationships between women. Here, we will take a closer look at Hall’s remarkable life story.   Radclyffe Hall’s Early Life Photograph of Radclyffe Hall. Source: The Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas   Marguerite Antonia Radclyffe Hall was born on August 12, 1880 in Bournemouth, then part of the county of Hampshire, England. Her father, Radclyffe “Rat” Radclyffe-Hall, was a man of independent means, having inherited a sizeable fortune from his father, a physician and former head of the British Medical Association. Educated at Eton and the University of Oxford, he rarely worked, instead spending his time seducing women and having affairs.   Hall’s mother was Mary Jane Sager (née Diehl), an American woman from Philadelphia who had already been married and widowed once before. Hall’s father left his wife and daughter in 1882, though he did bequeath Hall a substantial inheritance that would mean she would never have to work or marry in order to support herself.   Left to the tender mercies of her mother and her mother’s third husband (Hall’s stepfather), the Dalmatian professor of singing Albert Visetti, Hall had a difficult home life while growing up. The relationship between Visetti and Hall’s mother was often strained, and Hall, in turn, disliked both of them intensely.   Although her mother had been helping herself to some of Hall’s inheritance from her father throughout her childhood, as Hall matured, she found that she had more than enough money on which to live in considerable luxury. With no desire to marry and no one she needed to please but herself, she took to dressing in men’s clothes. Having read the sexological work of Havelock Ellis, she referred to herself as a “congenital invert” rather than a lesbian. She used her newfound independence in her twenties to pursue other women, though these affairs would eventually end when the other women married.   Discovering Her Sexuality & Experimenting with Gender Expression Mrs George Batten Singing, by John Singer Sargent, 1897. Source: New York Art Tours   While Hall’s romantic relationships with young women floundered once they got married, in 1907, she met Mabel Batten, a 51-year-old married woman with an adult daughter and grandchildren, at the Bad Homburg spa in Germany. Hall and Mabel fell in love, and following the death of Batten’s husband, the couple began living together.   Mabel first gave Hall the name “John,” by which she was thereafter known to her loved ones. Moreover, Mabel, an amateur singer of Lieder, introduced Hall to other literary, artistic, and intellectual women, several of whom were also lesbians. Regarding Hall’s own literary endeavors, it was Mabel who encouraged her to submit her poetry for publication. Between 1906 and 1915, Hall published five volumes of poetry.   In 1915, however, Hall also met and fell in love with Mabel’s cousin, the sculptor Una Trourbridge. Like Mabel, Una was a married woman, being the wife of Vice-Admiral Ernest Trourbridge and the mother of a young daughter. Nonetheless, Una and Hall remained together as a couple until Hall’s death. Their relationship, however, inevitably strained her relationship with Mabel before she died in 1916.   Despite having found happiness with Una, Hall paid for Mabel’s body to be embalmed and buried with a silver crucifix blessed by the Pope. Following her conversion to Catholicism in 1912, Hall maintained her Catholic faith, alongside her belief in spiritualism and metempsychosis, despite the Church’s position on same-sex relationships.   Like her philandering father before her, however, Hall was not always faithful to Una. In 1934, when Una fell ill with enteritis, Hall engaged a Russian nurse named Evguenia Souline to care for her. Hall and Souline soon had an affair, of which Una was aware. Though deeply hurt by Hall’s infidelity, she endured the affair and remained with her.   Becoming a Published Author UK first edition of Adam’s Breed, 1926. Source: Lycanthia Rare Books   Having already published five books of poetry under her full name, Hall’s first two novels were both published in 1924. The Forge, a social comedy, is in marked contrast with The Unlit Lamp, which centers on the protagonist Joan Ogden, whose dreams of independence and studying medicine are threatened by the maneuvres of a mother who is emotionally manipulative and dependent in equal measure. The Unlit Lamp was also the first work by Hall to be published under the name Radclyffe Hall, The Forge having been released under the marginally longer name M. Radclyffe Hall.   Just a year after the publication of The Unlit Lamp and The Forge came A Saturday Life in 1925, also a comic novel. This was shortly followed by Adam’s Breed in 1926, which tells the story of an Italian headwaiter who adopts a hermetic lifestyle in the forest after becoming disgusted with his line of work, including food itself. Adam’s Breed was both a critical and commercial success, winning both the James Tait Black Prize and the Prix Femina, thus replicating a success at that point only enjoyed by E. M. Forster’s novel A Passage to India.   Perhaps emboldened by the success of Adam’s Breed and feeling more confident in her skills as a writer, she went on to publish her first short story to feature homosexuality and soon began work on The Well of Loneliness, which would go on to be her most well-known, and controversial, novel.   Courting Controversy: The Well of Loneliness on Trial UK first edition of The Well of Loneliness, 1928. Source: Swann Galleries   After the success of Adam’s Breed, Hall embarked on an ambitious new project, writing to her publisher that she was “put[ting] [her] pen at the service of some of the most persecuted and misunderstood people in the world.”   The result was The Well of Loneliness, in which Stephen Gordon, a masculine-presenting lesbian, is spurned by society and her own mother in her quest for love and acceptance, which takes her from the battlefields of the First World War to bohemian Paris, where there were no laws prohibiting same-sex relationships between men (unlike in the United Kingdom) meaning that gay subcultures thrived. And yet, despite all her searching, Stephen still finds that society’s view of sexuality is at odds with her happiness, and the novel ends with Stephen’s earnest prayer to God to “[g]ive us also the right to our existence.”   In asking that same-sex relationships between women be treated with acceptance and tolerance rather than fear and disgust, The Well of Loneliness was described as propaganda by the editor of the Sunday Express, James Douglas, who used his newspaper to launch a public campaign against Hall’s novel. Arguing that the novel posed a risk to the moral integrity of young men and women, Douglas successfully pressed the (also deeply conservative) home secretary, William Joynson-Hicks, to take legal action against The Well of Loneliness.   The Well of Loneliness was put on trial over charges of obscenity on November 28, 1928, the outcome of which was a guilty verdict. Hall’s novel was therefore taken out of circulation in the UK. In America, however, after a trial on the same charges, the novel was found not to have violated any laws and was made freely available to US readers, securing Hall’s position as an icon of queer literature.   Late Style & Radclyffe Hall’s Later Life Photograph of Radclyffe Hall. Source: Literature Cambridge   The controversy that centered around The Well of Loneliness was often deeply hurtful to Hall. One anonymous lampoon, written in verse, titled “The Sink of Solitude,” largely reserved its mockery for Douglas and Joynson-Hicks, though Hall did not go unscathed either. An illustration depicting her crucified that was featured in the anonymous work particularly appalled the Catholic Hall.   In response to this, her next novel, The Master of the House (1932), focused on the character of Christophe Benedit, a carpenter whom Una described as a “modern Christ figure.” Advance sales for the novel were promising, and the novel made the top spot on The Observer’s bestseller list. The critical reception of the novel was less favorable, however, and sales soon dwindled.   Portrait photograph of Radclyffe Hall, c. 1930. Source: The British Library   Hall spent the 1930s living with Una in Rye, East Sussex, England, a small town that boasted a surprisingly large number of writers among its inhabitants. In addition to her affair with Evguenia Souline, she also had affairs with other women during this time, including the American singer and actress Ethel Waters. In 1930, she was honored with the Gold Medal of the Eichelberger Humane Award.   In 1943, Hall was diagnosed with cancer of the rectum, which, though operated on, proved fatal. She died later that year at the age of 63. Her body was interred in a vault in Highgate Cemetery alongside her former lover, Mabel Batten.   After a difficult childhood, Hall entered a world that was reluctant to either recognize or tolerate those of her sexual orientation. She endured further public vilification due to the trial of The Well of Loneliness. But, in daring to write “in the service of some of the most persecuted and misunderstood people in the world,” she sparked a wider cultural conversation surrounding lesbianism and became an icon of queer literature.

  In just two novels, Anne Brontë took on the plight of governesses and married women’s legal rights (or lack thereof), as well as putting forward her own theory of universal salvation, which, at the time, was considered blasphemous and highly controversial. Yet today, her fame has yet to reach the heights of her two older sisters, Charlotte and Emily. Here, we will look into why that is the case – and why it is an unfair reflection on Anne as a writer – by exploring her life, work, and values.   Early Life Detail of Anne Brontë from Branwell Brontë’s 1835 Pillar Portrait. Source: IMDb   Anne Brontë was born on January 17, 1820 in Thornton, West Yorkshire, though in April of that year, the family moved to the parsonage at Haworth. She was the youngest child born to the Reverend Patrick Brontë and Maria Brontë (née Branwell), who had already had four children by the time Anne was born: her eldest sisters Maria (born late 1813 or early 1814), Elizabeth (born 1815), and Charlotte (born 1816), as well as her brother, Branwell (born 1817), and another sister, Emily Jane (born 1818).   The children’s mother, however, developed uterine cancer. A year after their move to Haworth, her sister, Elizabeth Branwell, traveled from Cornwall to the parsonage to nurse her. She died later that year on September 15, 1821. Her sister, known to the children as Aunt Branwell, remained at the parsonage to care for them.   Between July and November 1824, all four of Anne’s sisters had been sent to board at the Clergy Daughters’ School at Cowan Bridge. Charlotte would later immortalize the school as Lowood in her 1847 novel Jane Eyre, and conditions at the school were as brutal as Charlotte depicted. In addition to (and, most likely, due to) the already poor conditions, in 1824-5, there was a typhoid epidemic at the school, which killed many pupils.   It was not typhoid, however, but tuberculosis that Anne’s two eldest sisters, Maria and Elizabeth, caught. Maria was sent home to Haworth in February 1825 to recover but died on May 6. Three weeks later, Elizabeth returned to Haworth, also with tuberculosis, and died on June 15. Charlotte and Emily were then recalled home the day after Elizabeth returned to Haworth.   Creating Imaginary Worlds To Walk Invisible: The Lives of the Brontë Sisters, a 2016 BBC dramatization of the lives of Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontë. Source: IMDb   With all four remaining siblings back at home, they were educated together at the parsonage. Anne therefore received little formal education, though her father’s evening oral lessons in history and religious teachings were far more advanced than the education typically afforded to middle-class girls of the period. They read writers such as John Milton, William Shakespeare, and Lord Byron from their father’s library. In 1829, the children also received art lessons from John Bradley.   On June 5, 1826, Patrick returned home from a clerical conference in Leeds with presents for each of his children: ninepins for Charlotte, a toy village for Emily, a dancing doll for Anne, and a box of toy soldiers for Branwell. It was the latter present, however, that most delighted all four siblings. The sisters each chose their own soldiers from the box and developed personas and stories about them.   Anne’s toy soldier went on to be known as Ross – after John Ross, the Arctic explorer – and Emily’s became Parry, after Sir William Edward Parry, John Ross’ companion-turned-nemesis and fellow explorer who led five expeditions to the North-West Passage. Emily thus made Parry King of Parry’s Land, which geographically resembled the wild moors of West Yorkshire and was one of the four islands that made up the siblings’ fictional Glass Town, the capital city of Angria.   Charlotte and Branwell, however, being the two oldest children, tended to dominate in the stories the siblings played out about Angria. Therefore, when Charlotte left Haworth to attend Roe Head School in January 1831, Emily and Anne created their own imaginary kingdom of Gondal. From childhood, Anne and Emily enjoyed an especially close bond. Ellen Nussey, a lifelong friend of Charlotte, described Emily and Anne as “inseparable companions.”   Going to School Photograph of Chloe Pirrie (who played Emily), Charlie Murphy (who played Anne), and Finn Atkins (who played Charlotte) in the 2016 BBC dramatization of the lives of the Brontës, To Walk Invisible: The Lives of the Brontë Sisters. Source: IMDb   Charlotte remained at Roe Head until June 1832, later returning as a teacher and taking Emily with her as a pupil on July 2, 1835. Margaret Wooler, who ran the school, offered Charlotte the position on the suggestion that her wage would subsidize Emily’s tuition fees.   However, after spending three months at Roe Head, Emily returned to Haworth in October, and Anne took her place at the school. Though Anne lasted two years and three months at Roe Head, it was not an altogether happy time for her – or for Charlotte, who described teaching as “wretched bondage” and who “loathed” her students.   As Charlotte’s wages were used to subsidize Anne’s fees, she could not afford to pay the postage on her letters (which was instead paid by the recipient), and, Samantha Ellis argues, this led her to resent Anne. “Charlotte resented sacrificing herself for Anne,” Ellis states, “but it was a sacrifice Anne had never asked for” (see Further Reading, Ellis, p. 132). Charlotte rarely mentioned Anne in her letters from this period.   After enduring two years and three months, Anne fell ill. Though Edward Chitham argued in 1991 that Anne was suffering from a “psychic crisis” or breakdown, the Moravian Reverend James La Trobe – who, at the invitation of Anne, visited her multiple times during her illness – described her illness as gastric fever. Once Charlotte realized how ill Anne was, she arranged for her to return home to Haworth.   The Life of a Victorian Governess Title page of an 1858 edition of Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey. Source: Jonkers Rare Books   Anne, however, did not remain at home for too long. In April 1839, she took up a post as a governess for the Ingham family at Blake Hall, near Mirfield. Anne was not permitted to discipline the spoiled Ingham children for their disobedience and unruly behavior, so she struggled to properly fulfill her role. After the children made little progress, she was dismissed and returned home in late 1839. Anne would later use this experience at Blake Hall as inspiration for her first novel, Agnes Grey, which tells of the plight of a nineteenth-century governess.   After a brief stay at the parsonage, she was the governess to the children of the Reverend Edmund Robinson and his wife, Lydia, at their home, Thorp Green Hall, near York from 1840 to June 1846. Here, Anne came to be valued by her employers and befriended her pupils. Her pupils, Elizabeth and Mary, corresponded with her and visited her at the parsonage in December 1848. She also accompanied the family on their summer holidays to Scarborough – a place Anne came to love.   While Anne was in service to the Robinson family, her Aunt Branwell passed away on October 29, 1842, leaving each of her nieces an inheritance of £350. In January of the following year, she obtained a position for her brother, Branwell, with the Robinson family as their son Edmund’s tutor.   During his employment by the Robinson family, however, Branwell and Lydia Robinson began a secret relationship. When Anne and Branwell returned to Haworth for their summer holidays in 1846, Anne resigned from her post. Though she gave no reason, it is believed that she felt she could no longer maintain her position after becoming aware of the relationship. When Reverend Edmund Robinson discovered the affair, Branwell was dismissed.   Career as a Writer Title page of an 1858 edition of Anne Brontë’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Source: Jonkers Rare Books   In May 1846, before Anne resigned her post at Thorp Green, 21 of her poems were included in Poems by Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell, a volume of poetry published by (and at the expense of) the three Brontë sisters under pseudonyms. The book, however, sold poorly. In December 1847, Emily’s Wuthering Heights and Anne’s Agnes Grey were published in a single volume by Thomas Cautley Newby. Though the volume sold well, Agnes Grey was somewhat eclipsed by Emily’s novel.   This, however, would change with the publication of Anne’s next novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, in June 1848. The novel tells the story of Helen, a woman on the run from her abusive, alcoholic husband, bringing up her son alone and supporting herself by the sale of her paintings. In her portrayal of addiction, Anne drew on her brother, Branwell. Following his dismissal from Thorp Green and Reverend Edmund Robinson’s death in 1846, Lydia informed Branwell that she had no intention of marrying him. This turn of events left Branwell hopeless, and he became addicted to alcohol and opiates.   The novel is considered by some to be the first feminist novel, and it caused a furor upon publication. Despite (or, perhaps, because of) the scandalized reviews of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, it was the bestselling Brontë novel in her lifetime, outselling Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights. The first edition sold out in just six weeks, and Anne wrote a preface to be published in the second edition, in which she defended her novel and, in defiance of her critics, stated that “if I have warned one rash youth from following in their steps, or prevented one thoughtless girl from falling into the very natural error of my heroine, the book has not been written in vain.”   Illness, Death, & Posthumous Legacy Anatomical drawing of the lungs of a patient who died of pulmonary tuberculosis, Plate V, by Samuel George Morton, 1834. Source: Wellcome Collection   The year 1848 also saw the deaths of Branwell (September 24) and Emily (December 19). While Branwell’s death certificate lists the cause of his death as “Chronic bronchitis” and “Marasmus” (that is, emaciation), it is likely that both he and Emily died of pulmonary tuberculosis.   Anne, too, fell ill with tuberculosis. On January 5, 1849, Dr. Teale, a lung specialist from Leeds, was summoned to the parsonage to examine Anne. He discovered that the tuberculosis was too far advanced to be cured.   Yet Anne, who proved a diligent patient, appeared to get better in February. She then asked Charlotte (and later Charlotte’s friend, Ellen Nussey) to take her to Scarborough in the hope of a “sea cure.” After a few months, Charlotte consented to the plan, and she and Nussey accompanied Anne to Scarborough for one last visit. However, her condition did not improve. On May 28, 1849, a doctor was called to their lodgings in Scarborough. She asked if she should return home and was informed that she was too ill to travel and did not have long left to live. The doctor, in turn, was impressed by how calmly she accepted this. She died later that day at two o’clock and is buried in Scarborough.   Anne Brontë was (during her lifetime, at least) the most commercially successful of the famous three sisters and, arguably, the most radical. Her work tackled political issues of the day, particularly those affecting women, and she was undeterred by her critics in her pursuit of greater justice. Yet today, she is the least famous Brontë sister, all too often dismissed as “the other Brontë.”   Photograph of Charlie Murphy (who played Anne), Chloe Pirrie (who played Emily), and Finn Atkins (who played Charlotte) in the 2016 BBC dramatization of the lives of the Brontës, To Walk Invisible: The Lives of the Brontë Sisters. Source: IMDb   Following Anne’s and Emily’s deaths, Charlotte wrote a “Biographical Notice of Ellis and Acton Bell,” in which she sought to defend her sisters. However, Charlotte also “damned Anne’s work with faint praise,” as Ellis states, by writing that Anne “wanted the power, the fire, the originality of her sister, but was well endowed with quiet virtues of her own” (see Further Reading, Ellis, p. 141).   This portrayal of Anne takes no account of the radical political dimension of Anne’s writing. Rather, Charlotte stated that “[The Tenant of] Wildfell Hall” was “hardly […] desirable to preserve. The choice of subject in that work is a mistake, it was too little consonant with the character, tastes and ideas of the gentle, retiring inexperienced writer.” Yet, as Anne’s own preface for the second edition attests, she herself did not regret writing The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, nor did she consider it “a mistake.”   With Charlotte’s embargo placed on further publications of the novel, the publishing house Thomas Hodgson brought out a mutilated version of the text in 1854. After Charlotte died the following year, her publishers took the opportunity to reprint Anne’s last novel but used the defective Hodgson text. To this day, Hodgson’s version is in circulation.   Anne’s reputation, then, has suffered through unfair criticism, neglect, and poor editorial decisions, the effects of which can still be seen in accounts of the Brontë family. However, since the 1990s, biographies of Anne have helped question the narrative of Anne as “the other Brontë” and there has been a concerted effort to reevaluate her work in a manner that recognizes its radical politics. Through her classic novels, Anne Brontë sought to challenge social injustices and to improve the lives of others, and it is as such that she deserves to be remembered.   Further Reading:   Ellis, Samantha, Take Courage: Anne Brontë and the Art of Life (London: Chatto & Windus, 2017).