Up Yours, Brutus!

by Caroline Lawrence (author of the Roman Mysteries)

One of the first things that greeted visitors to the Life and Death in Pompeii and Herculaneum exhibition at the British Museum in the summer of 2013 was a jolly fresco of a phoenix above two peacocks (below). On the audio guide, curator Paul Roberts called this fresco a pub sign. It was found on a wall of a popina or fast food joint in Pompeii. The slogan reads Phoenix felix et tu: The Phoenix is happy (or lucky), and you!

What caught my attention was the phrase et tu which immediately called to mind Julius Caesar's last words according to Shakespeare: et tu, Brute.  Of course, as any Classicist knows, Caesar didn't really say et tu. He spoke in Greek: Kai su, teknon, which means 'and you, my child'. This is often interpreted as the poignant words of a noble, betrayed Roman to the young assassin who might have been his illegitimate child: 'Even you, my son?'

But the phoenix pub sign hints that Caesar might not have gone down quite that submissively on the Ides of March in 44 BCE.

One thing the Pompeii exhibition brought home to me was how obsessed the ancient Romans were with keeping away evil. A little research showed me that the phrase 'and you' – whether in Greek or Latin – is apotropaic.

Apotropaic is Greek for something that 'turns away'. It usually refers to anything that averts evil or bad luck. Apotropaic images include the raised palm of the left hand, erect phalluses, the unflinching gaze of a full frontal face and the eye amulets that are still so popular in the Mediterranean. Also apotropaic is the peacock, which has a tail full of 'eyes'. All these things 'turn away evil'.

The phrase et tu ('and you') has a similar meaning. It reflects back. Our modern equivalent might be 'the same to you!'. In Roman times, if a person approached you with good intentions, saying 'et tu' would be a blessing. But if they came at you with evil intent, the phrase becomes a curse. So whether Julius Caesar said et tu or kai su to the young man stabbing him, it meant the same thing: 'Back at you, punk!' or better yet: 'Up yours, Brutus!'

Check out my 30 plus history-mystery books for kids at www.carolinelawrence.com!

Last Chance for Pompeii Exhibition!

9.10 on a Sunday morning!

You've been meaning to go to the British Museum Pompeii Exhibition all summer but it finishes at the end of September. At time of posting this, pre-booked tickets are almost sold out – just a few left for September weekends – so you might have to show up early to get one of 500 tickets released first thing each morning (not necessarily for immediate entry) OR find a friend who is a Member (i.e. a Friend) with guest privileges to take you OR become a Member yourself. If you become a Member, you can go whenever you like, breeze past the queue and go straight in. Then you can check your emails over coffee or tea in the brand new Members' Room.

The exhibition has had rave reviews but one problem is that it is almost always too crowded to enjoy. My best tip is to get yourself a Membership, show up on Saturday or Sunday just before opening at 9am, join the orderly queue outside the gates, go straight in to the exhibition (no need to queue at that point), ignore the filmstrip (you can come back to that later) and go straight into the exhibition which you can then enjoy in blissful emptiness (above right). But don't blithely take my word for it: always check the latest on opening times.

I have already blogged about TWELVE FUN THINGS TO SEE but here are TEN MORE THINGS to look out for.

"PHOENIX FELIX ET TU"

1. ET TU, PHOENIX? One of the first things you see past the inscriptions and graffiti is this jolly fresco of a Phoenix above two peacocks. Peacocks are real, but the Phoenix is a mythical bird of fiery resurrection. Curator Paul Roberts calls this a "pub sign". It was found on a wall of a fast food joint in Pompeii. The slogan says "The Phoenix is happy (or 'lucky'), and you!" What interests me is the expression "Et tu" which is used elsewhere in Roman contexts as an apotropaic slogan. Apotropaic is Greek for "turns away evil" and it refers to anything that averts bad luck. Apotropaic images include the raised palm of the left hand, erect phalluses, eyes and the unflinching gaze of a full frontal face. All these things "turn back evil". The words "et tu" (and you) seem to have a similar meaning. Our modern equivalent might be "back at you!" In Roman times, if a person approached you with good intentions, saying "et tu" would be a blessing. But if they came at you with evil intent, then the phrase is a curse. This puts Julius Caesar's last words, Et tu, Brute*, in a whole new light!

2. COMIC RELIEF? Next to the famous fresco of Dionysus and Vesuvius in the atrium room is a small marble relief showing the earthquake of AD 62 or 63. If you look closely you will see it is quite comical. For example, the two men depicting equestrian statues look silly and are staring straight out (an apotropaic device) and their horses are actual long-eared donkeys.  Humour is another apotropaic device so I think this sculpture may be saying something like, "We laugh in the face of earthquakes!"

first time seen by public

3. PANTHER TABLE - Curator Paul Roberts said if he could take home one item when the exhibition finishes, it would be this one. That's probably because it languished in a storeroom for many years and he was the first to show it to the public. Like the goat, snake and dolphin, the panther is associated with Dionysus, the patron god of the region. This wonderful table probably would have been painted.

4. BALL 'O' PIGMENT - In a bowl just on the left as you enter the triclinium (dining room) you will see a bowl with two greyish balls. This is how fresco paint came. You would chip off some pigment, grind it in a mortarium, then add egg and water and perhaps a few other ingredients. Finally, the paint was applied to the still-damp plaster. The plaster sucked up the colour and when it dried the painting became part of the wall. That's why these paintings have survived so well. These are the less exciting "white" and "grey" pigments.

5. The NAVEL OF THE WORLD or omphalos is shown on a fresco in the far end of the triclinium room on the right. This fresco screams Apollo. Cupids (the lolcats of the Roman world) frisk around with his bow, his quiver, his lyre, his tripod and possibly a runaway patera. The tripod is especially linked with Apollo because the Delphic oracle sat on one to prophesy. And Delphi was the site of the navel of the world. If you want to know what the navel of the world looked like, there it is underneath the tripod, looking like a fat bollard.

2000 year old loaf of bread

6. Still in the triclinium room is a glass case full of Roman-type "samovars" and portable hearths. Look out for a BRONZE KRATER WITH ARGONAUTS. A krater was for mixing large batches of water and wine. I only noticed the argonauts on my fifth visit, mainly because this room is usually so crowded!

7. ANCIENT PIZZA - OK, it's not pizza because they had no tomatoes in Roman times, but this round loaf of bread looks like puffy pizza. But what's that strange dent around its perimeter? London-based Italian chef Giorgio Locatelli recreated the loaf and came up with a possible cause: a piece of string was tied around the dough, baked in and then used to carry the loaf home.

8. In the culina (kitchen), look out for a PESTLE SHAPED LIKE A THUMB. It is made of white marble and is found below the hare mould for terrine and next to the beautiful sieve with the maker's signature punched in holes. The mortarium containing the thumb pestle has a fun panther face for draining liquid and on the bottom a crude apotropaic Medusa face for turning away evil when it's hung up on the kitchen wall. (You can't see this in the current display mode).

"CACATOR CAVE MALUM"

9. Also in the culina you will see a giggle-inducing FRESCO OF MAN DOING A POO (right). This is often cited as an example of Roman belief that demons or other nasty things lived in the sewers. The naked youth is being protected by two lucky snakes and the goddess Fortuna. The curators have placed this fresco in the culina room, because that is where most private Roman latrines were found: in the kitchen, usually right next to the hearth. Paul Roberts says this was because Romans classed wet and smelly things together. (For more about this, see my post on Demon in the Toilet!)

10. Near the end of the exhibition – in the same case as a soldier's sword – is a collection of treasures found on a little girl's charm bracelet. Ironically, considering the cataclysmic bad luck she experienced, most of the objects had an apotropaic sense... but what's with the shrimp? I have heard of apotropaic farting, but never an APOTROPAIC SHRIMP! Answers and suggestions below, please.

*Clever clogs among you might know that what Julius Caesar really said was the Greek version, kai su, teknon, but it makes no difference: the Greek phrase has exactly the same sense as the Latin, maybe even more so! Also teknon can mean "child" or "son", but also more derogative "kid" or even "punk". So Julius Caesar's last words to his final murderer Brutus had a meaning of "You'll get yours, too, punk!"

For more apotropaic images including two "kai su" mosaics, visit my PG-rated Apotropaic Pinterest page.

Caroline Lawrence writes history mystery books for kids aged 8 to 80. No. Really! All the pictures in this post are © Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei / Trustees of the British Museum

My Last Three Days by Adam Stanley

12th March 44BC

Dear Calpurnia,

It's been many days since I last saw you, that brisk morning just before you left for Pompeii. Since you left, I have done little except wander the Gardens of Lucullus in search of the source of my torture. I was shocked when I realised that Rome was dying. I often feel as if I have given birth to this city and its ever growing decadence worries me greatly, to the point where sleep eludes my stretched mind. I returned each day to the same garden, my nightmare has become an obsession. Even now, no matter how hard I think the solution remains hidden, basking in the shadow, taking some sadistic pleasure out of my suffering. On each return I leave fresh markers that I hope, in the full glare of my hopelessness, will have blossomed into inspiration and give this drowning city the rescue it deserves.

Perhaps I should describe to you the vision which burns my eyelids whenever they shut. I see from the eyes of a bird, a Wren I believe. In my beak I carry a sprig of Laurel which dances and pirouettes with each silent, rhythmic stroke of my wings. I fly, with grace and beauty like no other straight into the senate house – might I add that the detail of inside is exquisite as if this could all be real! I see a few men, who all face away until I tear the sprig of Laurel into shreds and let each torn piece rain upon the crowd gathered below. The look of absolute horror is strangely amusing, that is until I see a pale face amongst the chaotic screams of terror. The man looked as if something inside of him had died or was dying or was so ill that what little hope of survival had been sacrificed. It was only when I once again went to the Garden of Lucullus and saw in the crystal water of the central pond that same pale face. I had finally realised that man was me.

It was only yesterday that I revealed to Spurinna that the nightmare had so badly affected my mind and his reaction, my Calpurnia, is what drove me to record my activities and musings so that the truth could be told to you In the most direct and sincere way. Tomorrow I am to sacrifice to the gods and hope that in return for my loyalty, I receive favourable omens. Without them, I am sure to last only a few more days. As I write this down, rain pours from heavens and drowns any hope I might have of seeing you again. The moon crests a junction between two clouds and cast the shadow of our home across the street. It feels as though the divines sign their name in untidy handwriting, condemning my soul to an eternal void.

The flickering of my torch at night has kept me lucid and as before I will sit before its soft glow in despair, as I feel I will never understand how to keep Rome afloat. I have found myself to be as featureless as the ocean, as shallow and unoccupied as a far off bay, my mind a listless wreck with no hope of salvation. I drift in and out of my nightmare and let the unintelligible whispers of the night carry me off. Where? I cannot possibly say... But what can be said is that if Rome could see the state of its leader then all hope would be lost.

Julius


13th March 44BC

Dear Calpurnia,

A moments peace was once what I dreaded but now I warmly invite it to sit with me just a little longer. Today I revealed to the fellow senators and to the people of Rome that I had an idea. Finally, the idea I had searched for, the ambition I needed to give my emaciated mind a fresh burst of life had sprang forth from the most unlikely place. During my wanderings in the Garden of Lucullus I began to notice a small flower bed so densely populated by small purple and white daisies that the thick canopy obscured the ground itself. The little flowers began to lose their beauty, their lives folded over by the sheer weight of so many others.

When I observed my favourite patch today something was different. When the rain came last night a large purple flower had erupted forth and taken what was so densely populated and toppled the balance. It seemed that the gods willed and permitted such a capitalisation and it was then that I realised the solution lay not with well-crafted words or futile alliances but with the willingness to take what is rightfully yours. Once again the solution lies along the path of war but it is not without justification I equip both my mind and body with sharp, glistening tools. The tools of a master craftsman.

All this happened before the sacrifice and left me with some sublime elation. This stupid vulnerability, a crease in the fabric of my mind revealed too much to the senators I was now conspiring against. Why is ambition so becalmed? It beckons me to walk on its path yet I know that it will shatter under my feet and drag me under like a rough sea that thrashes an unwitting ship and shrouds it in its salty cloak before ripping it from the surface and hiding it within its bowels.

When I was told by Spurinna that my life would not extend beyond the Ides of March my greatest fears had been realised. I had hoped that I would be able to see you again and discuss the content of these letters in a comical tone, but the harsh readings of a corpse on a slab has opened up a premature death for me and like a boat without a bottom my heart sinks lower and lower. The realisation that I will never see you again has caused my mind to spiral deeper into my own nightmare and obsess about the power I need to save my dying city.

When Spurinna told me such things, I could do nothing but laugh. It appeared to the others as a laugh of disbelief but really, I laughed out of despair and delirium as I regarded my failure to protect the true nature of my ambition. I have seen the way Marcus Junius Brutus talks about me with Gaius Cassius Longinus and a handful of other senators. I heard the word 'Liberatores' being used but I don't yet understand its meaning or gratuity. I am left with only two true friends; Marcus and you. Assuming of course that you still love me despite the nightmares, despite me waking to false dawns only to find the landscape distorted by the steady trickle of tears. I am safe knowing that no matter where I am, your reaching is always upon me.

Julius


14th March 44BC

Dear Calpurnia,

I am now truly hated by my fellow senators. They all know I want rid of them and I'm sure they want rid of me. All I wanted was to unite the great nation of Rome and heal its sickness. Why has my own mind betrayed me? I sit here in front of my dimming lamp attempting to trace the lines of my ambition back to my shattered heart. The soft, melancholy glow of the full moon illuminates the ink that soaks through the fibres, the pulp of vegetation that holds the bulging enigma of my final three days.
My betrayal is inevitable and with only Marcus to watch my back I have little hope of survival.

Tomorrow I take a leap of faith, a plunge into the darkening abyss where I will meet the gods and ask them why they place such a curse upon me. This curse, this inability to drive out the terrors which haunt every dream and lurk behind every corner and every closed door in my mind has incapacitated me and left me ripe for the picking. The 'Liberatores' bear down on, the sharp blade of Brutus is what I fear will strike the final blow.

He was a man I thought was my friend has ruined my life. Rome will surely die without the idea the gods sent me. I must speak with Marcus before I am sent away and I must unveil to him what has torn my soul in two so that he can pursue my goals without his own mind collapsing like mine has. I have little time to waste as the night creeps on and my shoulders itch with the nascency of flight. It is certain that I will never see you again unless the heavens hold the promise of the preacher and there is indeed, a place where you and I can rest at long last.

I have drunk deep from the fountain of life until my body cannot take another drop of the poison. I leave you my heart, etched onto these pages as a series of black lines drawn from the depth of my suffering. As I take flight you become a nest to me, somewhere I might rest in your comforting presence whilst I watch Marcus use my idea and wield it like a true warrior. None will dare block his path, except Brutus of course but he will be carved from his throne and cast into the pages of history as a murderer and a fiend. From the idea that infected me springs hope, from my grief comes love for you and from my ambition only the painful end of a knife.

I have learned all too well that ambition can take one to sublime heights or harrowing depths and often they are one in the same. Vale uxor mea!

Julius

In this impressive short story in the form of three letters, 15 year old Adam Stanley imagines what thoughts might have filled the mind of Gaius Julius Caesar during his last three days on earth. Adam is from Cheadle Hulme School and this story took third place in the 2012 Golden Sponge-stick Writing Competition.