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Titus. AD 79-81. AR Denarius (17.5mm, 3.44 g, 5h). Rome mint. Struck 1 January-30 June AD 80. Laureate head right / Dolphin coiled around anchor. RIC II.1 112; RSC 309. Lightly toned, some faint hairlines. Good VF.
Ex Benito Collection (Classical Numismatic Group 114, 14 May 2020), lot 808 (hammer $750).
The year AD 79 would prove to be one of the most event-filled in Roman history. On June 23, only a decade after the disruption of the Roman civil war, the emperor Vespasian died, leaving behind two sons, Titus and Domitian. Titus would succeed his father to the throne, with the younger Domitian continuing to serve as Caesar, or heir apparent. Although the rule of Titus is mostly described as positive, being one of Seutonius’ “good Emperors,” his short reign was not without turmoil.
Just a few months into his reign (the date being uncertain but most likely in the autumn of AD 79), Mount Vesuvius erupted in violent fashion, devastating the communities of Pompeii and Herculaneum and covering a host of other properties, farms and estates, in volcanic ash and lava. Thousands died in horrible ways. Many of the lost properties were owned by elite Romans for use as summer villas and retreats. Titus would take personal interest in the Vesuvius eruption, traveling twice to the area to support relief efforts, while donating some of his own wealth for the cause.
During Titus’ second visit to the Bay of Naples (AD 80), a major fire broke out in Rome. Although this fire wasn’t as catastrophic as Nero’s inferno of AD 64, it nonetheless burned for three days and destroyed or damaged significant structures, including the Pantheon, Temple of Jupiter, parts of the Theatre of Pompey, and other public and private buildings. Upon Titus’ return to Rome, he again aided in the recovery and repair efforts with more of his own personal wealth contributed.
According to Suetonius, before the flames had even died away, a pestilence broke out in Rome that took still more lives, although the nature of this disease remains a mystery. Perhaps a deadly toxin was triggered by the heat of the flames, or the blaze unleashed disease-ridden vermin on the populace?
So, the 12 months from mid-AD 79 to AD 80 would witness the death of a beloved emperor, the volcanic destruction of several Italian cities, a terrible fire in Rome, and a mysterious and deadly epidemic. Why wouldn’t the Roman people begin to wonder if their gods were angry with them?
At any rate, Romans did not blame their young emperor for these disasters – indeed his biographer Suetonius calls Titus the “delight and darling of the human race” based largely on his tireless acts of compassion during this time of need.
The year AD 80 would, however, have one important positive event as well. The Colosseum was completed and opened with 100 days of games. Perhaps this huge upbeat festival was just what the Romans needed after such a difficult 12 months! Titus pulled out all the stops to give the public a grand show: Gladiatorial games, beast fights, mock naval battles, and mass giveaways of food, cash and prizes were the order of the day. By all accounts it was a spectacular success.
Still, given how the Flavians (Vespasian, Titus and Domitian) took every advantage of coinage to propagate their victorious Jewish war campaign in the early AD 70s, it is most unusual that the Colosseum was opened with seemingly minimal fanfare as reflected on the coinage of the day. There are a few obvious references to the grand event – an impressive bronze sestertius with an overhead view of the Colosseum and a gold aureus and silver denarius type depicting an elephant. But these were not struck in great numbers, to judge by the relative scarcity of surviving specimens.
Instead, far more commonly struck during this period is what numismatists call the “Supplicatio” or “Atonement Series” of Titus and Domitian. Starting during the reign of Titus after the eruption of Vesuvius, and continuing into the reign of his successor, Domitian, this curious and seemingly somber coinage remains an enigma. It has a clear theme in the depiction of devices related to Roman Gods, usually placed upon a pulvinar (throne), a curule chair, a tripod, or a sacrificial altar.
That the reverse images of these coins are dedicated to Roman Gods is certain. What they are intended to relate to is less clear. The gods themselves are not depicted, just their symbols arranged in such a way as to suggest a sacrifice or an act of supplication– an “atonement,” if you will. Were the Romans, embodied by their emperor, pledging to make amends for whatever they had done to make the Gods inflict such disasters upon them – Vesuvius, the fire, the plague?
That, in any case, is the reading of Harold Mattingly and Edward Sydenham in the original 1926 edition of RIC Volume II. Their brief introduction to the section on Titus reads: “It was perhaps the eruption of Vesuvius that promoted the issue of… ‘supplicatio’ coins showing the exhibition of the emblems of the gods on ‘pulvinaria’ in their temples. Thus, the thunderbolt on the throne is for Jupiter, the corn-ears on throne for Ceres, the shield [actually a helmet] on throne (used by Domitian) for Minerva; the dolphin and trident may represent Neptune, the dolphin and tripod Apollo. The wreath on curule chairs is uncertain.”
Perhaps, in this interpretation, the wreath-on-chairs image reflects the emperor’s personal act of supplication, laying aside his own laurel wreath, a symbol of office?
In response to great catastrophes, there are many records of the Romans undertaking mass religious rituals, cleansing ceremonies, and even going to extremes like human sacrifice to placate their gods. But alluding to such acts on their coinage would have been anything but normal. Emperors, after all, showed their successes and intended propaganda on coinage. Would they take this opportunity to show their need for the support, or forgiveness, of the gods?
One alternative reading is that these reverses reflect a tribute to the Roman Gods as victors in the war against Judaea and the people of the “one God” religion. The Colosseum was, after all, built with the spoils from the Judaean victory, and with the labor of thousands of Jewish slaves! This would be more in keeping with the historical use of reverse types on Roman coinage. In simple terms, were the Flavians saying “our gods are the correct ones to worship?”
In the new edition of RIC II, Part I (London, 2007), authors I.A. Carradice and T.V. Buttrey accept this view of the “supplicatio,” suggesting that the coins are linked to the religious rituals and public ceremonies for the dedication of the Colosseum. They note that pulvinaria are “sacred couches of the gods” and curule chairs are symbols of high office, not symbols of sacrifice (although altars and tripods certainly are sacrificial). This suggests “an association with public spectacles, such as the inauguration of the Colosseum, at which such seats for ‘honored guests’ would be provided,” they conclude. Far from evoking contrition, in this interpretation these reverses instead reflect celebration.
Closing Date and Time: 5 June 2024 at 14:32:40 ET.
All winning bids are subject to a 20% buyer’s fee.
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