3

The invincible priest-emperor

When this age will cherish the fame and glory I give it with my life, it will even surpass the Golden Century.

Aurelio Aureli and Francesco Cavalli, Eliogabalo (1667)

Elagabalus had gained the throne with the support of several legions, but his swift victory over Macrinus was not enough to secure his position as Roman ruler. Like all emperors, he had to win and maintain the support of his subjects: not just the soldiers, but also the elite and the populace of Rome. A key step in achieving this was to present them with a sound ideological basis to legitimise his powerful position. Elagabalus had to convince his subjects that he was both the rightful heir to the throne and the fittest candidate to rule the empire. As Jaś Elsner has remarked, ‘Power is, then, a far more complex and mysterious quality than any apparently simple manifestation of it would appear. It is as much a matter of impression, of theatre, of persuading those over whom authority is wielded to collude in their subjugation.’¹

No means of persuasion was probably more effective than the image – whether it was a statue or bust of the emperor, a relief on some public building, or the images engraved on imperial coins. ‘In the propagation of the imperial office, at any rate,’ Elsner remarks, ‘art was power.’ However, other means of representation, such as coin legends and imperial titles, should be taken into account as well.

We do not know who was responsible for the construction and distribution of imperial images. While it is plausible to assume that no messages were sent out which went against the explicit wishes of the emperor, it does not seem likely that Elagabalus determined every image and coin legend himself. In all likelihood, he had subordinates to take care of such things. Still, coins minted in Rome were official expressions of the emperor’s regime. The same is true for imperial busts and the titles which Elagabalus used. Therefore, when I mention ‘the emperor’ presenting himself in a certain way, this should be taken as convenient shorthand for the imperial administration, which acted in the emperor’s name. In the eyes of the public, the two were probably identical.

In which ways did Elagabalus’s advisers try to present the young emperor to the soldiers, the Roman elite and the Roman populace? Did they send different messages to different groups? To what extent were these messages intended to form a coherent ideological programme? And how was the imperial image affected by the religious reforms of the end of 220? These are the questions which will be addressed in this chapter. In addition, I will try to establish how contemporaries reacted to the representation of the boy on the throne – both during his reign and immediately after his death. This may shed some light on the question why Elagabalus ultimately failed to persuade his subjects. Lastly, I will briefly place the emperor in the wider context of Roman imperial history.

THE BENIGN PRINCE

Due to the peculiar nature of the principate, which had been set up by Augustus under the guise of restoring the republic, an emperor was supposed to present himself as ‘princeps’, the first among his ‘equals’ in the senate. Although divine connotations certainly played a role in the imperial representation and legitimation, the concept of the emperor as a god was basically at odds with these cherished republican ideals. Therefore, most of the rulers during the principate were somewhat reluctant openly to claim divinity, putting more emphasis on their ancestry, their virtues and their achievements. This is definitely true for the first years of Elagabalus’s reign. In 218, the boy was presented to the troops as the son of Caracalla, a suggestion which was strengthened by dressing him up in clothes which the murdered emperor had supposedly worn as a child. Herodian remarks that the soldiers perceived a strong resemblance between the ‘father’ and his ‘son’.² This may indicate that the scheme indeed had the desired effect.

Busts of Elagabalus stress the notion that he was Caracalla’s son. The so-called ‘type 1’ shows a youth with a symmetrical face, a bright expression and a short military haircut, chiselled according to the ‘penna’ technique (see Fig. 3). This type, of which probably four specimens are known, has convincingly been identified as Elagabalus by Klaus Fittschen and Paul Zanker.³ As they remark, the form of the head, the forehead and the mouth are reminiscent of the later bust types of Caracalla. The same can be said about the military haircut, which was worn by Caracalla as well. Elagabalus’s portrait on the obverses of his early coins was based on bust type 1, as the hair in particular shows. The dynastic message conveyed by these busts and coins was probably directed primarily at the army. Elagabalus had been proclaimed emperor by the soldiers because he claimed to be Caracalla’s son, probably leading them to expect he would continue his ‘father’s’ military policy. The imperial administration may have deliberately strengthened this impression by presenting the emperor with a military haircut, which not only enhanced his physical resemblance to Caracalla, but also expressed his affinity with the troops.

It was not only by means of images that Elagabalus was presented as the son of Caracalla. By styling himself Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, which had also been Caracalla’s official name, the new emperor referred to his invented ancestry on coin legends and in inscriptions. In the case of the latter, the dynastic claim was made explicit by adding the words ‘divi Magni Antonini Pii filius, divi Severi Pii nepos’, ‘son of the divine Great Antoninus Pius, grandson of the divine Severus Pius’, or a variant thereof, to the imperial titles.⁴ The deification of Caracalla was another means by which Elagabalus emphasised his connections with the earlier Severans. Both the former emperor and his mother, Julia Domna, were deified by the new Antoninus, who minted coins with the legend ‘CONSECRATIO’ to commemorate the occasion.⁵

The name Marcus Aurelius Antoninus did not just express Elagabalus’s affiliation with Caracalla. It also put him forward as a member of the Antonine dynasty and invoked memories of the ‘good emperors’ Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius. Septimius Severus had adopted himself into the dynasty of these beloved predecessors, renaming his oldest son Marcus Aurelius Antoninus and styling himself ‘divi Marci filius, divi Commodi frater’, ‘son of the divine Marcus, brother of the divine Commodus’. The name Antoninus seems almost to have achieved the status of a title under the Severi. It was borne by both Caracalla and Elagabalus, and may have been offered by the senate to Severus Alexander, who supposedly rejected it because, among other things, he was afraid he would be unable to live up to the high expectations connected with it. In reality, it seems more likely that Alexander wanted to avoid associations with his condemned predecessor. The highly respected name Antoninus may well have become tainted by the bad reputation of Elagabalus, as the author of the Historia Augusta suggests.⁶ No emperor would bear it after 222.

Both Septimius and Caracalla explicitly traced their ancestry back to the first-century CE emperor Nerva (96–98) in some of their inscriptions.⁷ Although none of the known inscriptions erected by Elagabalus show him doing the same, several inscriptions devoted to the young emperor mention both the earlier Severans and Antonines as his ancestors, as well as Hadrian, Trajan and Nerva.⁸ It is therefore not unthinkable, and perhaps even likely, that Elagabalus, too, explicitly made this dynastic claim in some of his inscriptions. The name Marcus Aurelius Antoninus certainly suggested that he descended from the Antonines. Thus, like his ‘father’ and ‘grandfather’ before him, the new emperor upheld a myth of dynastic continuity with fondly remembered second-century emperors in order to legitimise his power.

There was another respect in which Elagabalus followed the example of the earlier Severans. Like Septimius Severus and Caracalla, he granted other members of the imperial house an important role in the representation of his reign. As soon as Alexianus became Caesar, the family ties between him and his imperial cousin were tightened: Elagabalus adopted the boy as his son and styled him as such in imperial inscriptions.⁹ In this way, he connected the principate to his entire family rather than just to himself. While the notion that the supreme power should be held by members of one specific family dated back to the Julio-Claudians, the importance of the imperial family was stressed more than ever before under the Severans. Septimius had emphasised the notion of a ‘domus divina’, a ‘divine house’ that was destined to rule the empire. Elagabalus adopted the same idea. By referring to his Severan ancestors and presenting not just his heir and wives, but also his mother and grandmother to his subjects, he created the impression that the gods had bestowed the ruling of the empire on the Severans, and the Severans alone. In doing so, he strengthened not only the power base of his house, but also his own position as a member of the domus divina.

Elagabalus’s ancestry was also emphasised in a more general way. Unlike his immediate predecessor, Macrinus, who had been an ‘eques’ when he gained the throne, Elagabalus belonged to the senatorial order. Both his real father, Sextus Varius Marcellus, and his alleged father, Caracalla, had been of senatorial rank. In the eyes of the Roman senate, this must have made Elagabalus a more suitable candidate for the throne than Macrinus, who had officially been unqualified for the purple because of his equestrian status. According to Cassius Dio, the boy was well aware of this, for after the victory over his opponent, he is alleged to have sent a dispatch to the people, the soldiers and the senate of Rome, in which he made the following comments with regard to Macrinus: ‘This man, to whom it was not permitted even to enter the senate-house after the proclamation debarring all others than senators, dared treacherously to murder the emperor whom he had been trusted to guard, dared to appropriate his office and to become emperor before he had been senator.’¹⁰

In Rome, denarii (silver coins) were minted with the legend ‘NOBILITAS’, another reference to Elagabalus’s ancestry from the highest social circles.¹¹ The emperor’s marriage to Julia Paula, ‘a woman from the most aristocratic family in Rome’, can be seen as an attempt to tie him to the Roman aristocracy. The fact that the marriage probably took place soon after Elagabalus’s arrival in the capital indicates how important it was deemed to make him fit into Roman high society. After the controversial second marriage to Aquilia Severa, the emperor married Annia Faustina, a descendant of Marcus Aurelius. This marriage had the added advantage that it not only provided Elagabalus with a wife of noble lineage, but also forged a genuine link between the Severans and the Antonines. Any children that Elagabalus and Annia Faustina produced would have descended from Marcus Aurelius and could therefore be regarded as true heirs of the beloved philosopher-emperor.

As was typical of a Roman princeps, Elagabalus did not just boast an impressive ancestry, but also called attention to his own virtues and achievements as emperor. In some instances, this meant referring to specific acts; in others the young monarch prided himself on his general abilities to rule the empire. He strove to present himself to his subjects as a good ruler, worthy of his elevated position. In order to achieve this, it seems that different messages were sent to different groups.

Especially in the first year of his reign, Elagabalus was very dependent on the support of the troops. Therefore, many coins with military themes were minted. Most of these can be dated to the period 218–19 and are made of silver, the metal in which the soldiers were usually paid. This suggests that the messages they bore were primarily aimed at the army. Often, they express the (desired) loyalty of the soldiers to the emperor: ‘FIDES EXERCITVS’ and ‘FIDES MILITVM’. The legend ‘CONCORDIA MILIT(VM)’ proclaims unity between the legions.¹² These three types almost seem to have a pleading character, trying to prevent treason and discord within the army. Other types strike a more triumphant note, celebrating the victory over Macrinus: ‘MARS VICTOR’, ‘VICTORIA AVG(VSTI)’ and ‘VICTOR(IA) ANTONINI AVG(vsti)’.¹³ These legends probably heightened not only the emperor’s prestige, but also that of the troops, which after all had accomplished his victory. They may have functioned as a metaphorical pat on the back, strengthening the ties between emperor and army and helping to ensure military loyalty. The specific reference to the name Antoninus could be seen as an additional attack on Macrinus, implying that the briefly-ruling emperor had been no more than a usurper, defeated by the legitimate heir of the dynasty he had temporarily overthrown.

During the later years of Elagabalus’s reign, the army received less attention. Considering that the initial wave of revolts and pretenders seems to have subsided and the emperor was now probably recognised by all legions, the change is understandable. Contrary to Caracalla’s approach, Elagabalus did not choose to profile himself in an explicitly militant way. This can clearly be seen from a second type of bust, quite unlike the first (see Fig. 4). ‘Type 2’, of which at least two specimens have been preserved, shows a somewhat dull-looking young man with a round face, long sideburns and a wispy moustache. The hair, considerably longer than in type 1, consists of lancet-shaped locks which partially cover each other like scales and fall over the forehead in single strands.¹⁴ This haircut is recognisable on coins from 220 onwards. Considering that the new bust type could have been introduced some time earlier, it may first have been issued in 219, perhaps on the occasion of the emperor’s arrival in Rome or his marriage to Julia Paula.

Unlike type 1, type 2 does not look like Caracalla at all. It is probably much closer to Elagabalus’s actual appearance. Although Fittschen and Zanker mention the ‘ethnic features’ of this bust, which presumably stressed the emperor’s Syrian background and participation in the cult of Elagabal, they fail to specify the details of these alleged features. In fact, there seems to be nothing particularly ‘ethnic’ about the type 2 portrait.

More plausible are Fittschen’s and Zanker’s comments about the emperor’s hair. As they point out, type 2 moves away from Caracalla’s and Geta’s military haircut, and seems to refer to older, second-century examples of courtly portraits. The strands of hair falling over the forehead seem to reference portraits of Augustus. This indicates that type 2 was probably aimed primarily at the elite and the people of Rome. Evoking associations with Augustus and the Antonines, it presented Elagabalus as a princeps rather than as a military commander.

According to Dio, Elagabalus claimed to have no desire for titles which had been won by war and bloodshed. However, we can wonder to what extent this was the consequence of a genuine love for peace. After all, military achievements were traditionally one of the key instruments for Roman rulers to legitimise their power. Both Septimius Severus and Caracalla had started wars in order to win renown for their conquests. Perhaps Elagabalus wanted to avoid the huge risks and costs involved in such enterprises. His position on the throne was probably not secure enough to risk the humiliation of a military defeat.

Nevertheless, the young emperor did not completely lose track of his military prestige. During the whole of his reign, he used the title ‘imperator’, commander of the troops, on all of his coins. This habit had been abandoned by Hadrian in 124CE. Henceforth, rulers had used the title on coins only during the first year they held the principate, but Macrinus and Elagabalus broke with the tradition. By constantly styling himself ‘imperator’, Elagabalus emphasised his potential for victory. He let his troops greet him as imperator at least four times, which implied that he had won at least four military victories.¹⁵ However, since he had not waged any wars since the defeat of Macrinus, the imperator-greetings can hardly have been more than hollow phrases, crediting the emperor with a military prestige that he had never won through actual victories. It is possible that the main reason for the greetings was fiscal, because they allowed Elagabalus to collect the ‘aurum coronarium’ which the cities were obliged to pay him on these occasions.

Some coins from the period 218–19 make reference to Elagabalus’s victory over Macrinus, but do not seem to be directed primarily at the army. These coins, most of them minted in Rome, show the cult statue of Roma Aeterna on the reverse, seated and with a small Victory standing in her hand. The image occurs on gold, silver and bronze coinage and seems to imply that it was not just Elagabalus who had triumphed, but Rome. Apart from the possible dynastic implications – namely the suggestion that the usurper had been beaten and the true heir of the empire was victorious – it may also refer to the fact that Macrinus had never been in the capital during his reign. By explicitly making Rome a part of his triumph, Elagabalus showed that he cared more about the city than his predecessor. When he finally reached the capital (about a year after his victory), his arrival was celebrated on coins with the legend ‘ADVENTVS AVGVSTI’.¹⁶

After he had settled in Rome, the emphasis of Elagabalus’s representation shifted from military to civic matters. Coin legends testify of the many promises the emperor made to his subjects. Among these, the guarantee of a good grain supply, ‘ANNONA AVGVSTI’, was one of the most important. The distribution of the proverbial ‘bread’ was crucial in winning and maintaining the support of the Roman populace. However, it was not the only means by which the emperor proved his generosity. Coins were minted with the legends ‘ABVNDANTIA AVG(VSTI)’ and ‘INDVLGENTIA AVG(VSTI)’, ‘the abundance of the emperor’ and ‘the indulgence of the emperor’. No less than four ‘liberalitas’ gifts (grantings to the people) are known from the short reign of Elagabalus, indicating that the emperor made good on his promises. The new ruler strove to win the favour of the populace, trying to create general joy – ‘LAETITIA PVBLICA’ – to keep his subjects content.¹⁷ He provided them with lavish games and festivals, banqueting the soldiers and the populace, entertaining them with charioteers, gladiators and wild beasts, and throwing costly goods and animals to the crowd. It seems that Elagabalus took pains to present himself as the great benefactor: not just of Rome, but of the empire at large. He repaired roads and buildings throughout the provinces, erecting inscriptions in which he styled himself ‘felicissimus adque invictissimus ac super omnes retro principes indulgentissimus’, ‘most blessed and most invincible and more indulgent than all previous emperors’.¹⁸

Imperial promises were not limited to distributing gifts and providing the basic needs for survival. Elagabalus also claimed ‘LIBERTAS AVGVSTI’.¹⁹ This legend was sometimes used by rulers who claimed to have freed the Roman people from tyranny. It expressed the promise that the emperor would respect Roman law and would not have any senators arrested and executed without a fair trial – in other words, that he would act as a law-abiding ruler, not as an unchecked tyrant. According to Cassius Dio, Elagabalus had assured the soldiers, the senate and the people of Rome that he would always and in all things emulate the exemplary emperors Augustus and Marcus Aurelius, a promise which had similar implications. His reign was presented as a stable, peaceful time. Coins celebrated the ‘SECVRITAS PERPETVA’ of an empire which was not under severe pressure of invading barbarians or torn apart by civil war, but could prosper undisturbed under the ‘PAX AVGVSTI’.²⁰

Next to his ancestry, his virtues and his achievements, there was another aspect to Elagabalus’s imperial representation. Even before the religious reforms of late 220, supernatural claims were used to legitimise the boy’s reign. Coins proclaimed the emperor’s trust in divine providence, the ‘PROVIDENTIA DEORVM’.²¹ This suggested that Elagabalus was destined to rule the empire. His divine protector was the almighty Jupiter, to whom the legend ‘IOVI CONSERVATORY’ was dedicated.²² Moreover, Elagabalus styled himself ‘Pius Felix’ in inscriptions. These titles, which had been introduced to the imperial formula by Commodus, probably expressed the emperor’s new, more elevated religious position. As Pius, he placed himself at the head of traditional religiosity in the empire. As Felix, he claimed divine protection and beneficence. The combination Pius Felix made him into something more than just pontifex maximus of Rome: he became the ‘religious champion of all’, ensuring the happiness of his subjects by means of his divine felicitas. However, the question can be asked whether Elagabalus was genuinely keen to spread this message to his subjects, or just included the titles because they had become standardised, since few imperial coins have ‘P(IVS) F(ELIX)’ or ‘PIVS FEL(IX)’ on their obverse. Only eastern coins from the period 218–19 seem to bear the combination. The title ‘PIVS’ often appears on its own, both on coins from Rome and from the East. According to Harold Mattingly, we should not regard ‘Pius’ just as a reference to Elagabalus’s religious devotion, but also as a reference to Caracalla, who had likewise styled himself ‘Pius’.²³

Despite the fact that most coins do not bear the combination ‘Pius Felix’, several types stress the themes pietas and felicitas separately. Examples of this are coins with the legends ‘PIETAS AVG(VSTI)’, ‘SAECVLI FELICITAS’ and ‘FELICITAS PUBLICA’.²⁴ Curiously enough, however, almost none of these types bear a portrait of Elagabalus on the obverse, but one of his grandmother, Julia Maesa. What does this imply? Should we see Julia Maesa, the matriarch of the family, as the personification of the entire imperial house? Do the coins put not just the emperor, but the complete domus divina, at the head of traditional religiosity in the realm? Is it the imperial family as a whole whose felicitas guarantees the prosperity of the empire? If the latter is indeed the case, it underlines the importance of the domus divina in Elagabalus’s imperial representation. However, it is important to note that both coins and inscriptions connect the combination ‘Pius Felix’ exclusively to the emperor himself, establishing him as the ultimate ‘religious champion’ of the empire.

Not only did imperial coins claim that Elagabalus and his house had the support of the gods, they also suggested that the imperial family, and especially the emperor, had some divine qualities themselves. This point was made rather carefully. In accordance with Roman tradition, only the deceased members of the domus divina, Caracalla and Julia Domna, were actually deified. On the one hand, this allowed Elagabalus to stress that he was a member of the Severan dynasty and could therefore rightfully claim the throne. On the other hand, it also implied that he descended from divine ancestors, whose superhuman status enhanced his own prestige. This suggestion of divinity was emphasised by associating the women from the imperial family with goddesses, ‘MATER DEVM’ and ‘IVNO REGINA’ were two of the goddesses who appeared on the reverse of coins of Julia Soaemias; ‘IVNO’, among others, on the reverse of coins of Julia Maesa; and ‘IVNO CONSERVATRIX’ and ‘VENVS GENETRIX’, among others, on the reverse of coins of Julia Paula.²⁵

Elagabalus’s affinity with the Syrian god Elagabal was no more than a background theme on coins from 218–20, at least as far as the Roman mint was concerned. Although Sol was sometimes depicted on coins, he was not explicitly equated with Sol Elagabal. The ambiguity of the image may well have been deliberate, demonstrating the emperor’s devotion to the sun god without presenting him in the unfamiliar guise of the black stone of Emesa. The one or two coin types from this period which do picture the stone style him as ‘CONSERVATOR AVGVSTI’, an honour also attributed to Jupiter.²⁶ In some imperial inscriptions, Elagabalus bears the epithet ‘invictus’, hinting at a connection between himself and Sol Invictus Elagabal.²⁷ Antoniniani and dupondii show the emperor wearing a radiate crown, but since this is standard for all emperors on coins of ‘double value’, it does not seem to bear any special significance in Elagabalus’s case.

In the East, the Emesene sun god already played a bigger role on the imperial coinage before the end of 220. The black stone appeared on the reverse of some coins with the legend ‘SANCT(O) DEO SOLI ELAGABAL(O)’, ‘to the sacred sun god Elagabal’ (Fig. 5).²⁸ One type is dedicated to ‘SOLI PROPVGNATORI’, ‘Sol the defender’, depicted as a naked man wearing a cloak and holding a thunderbolt in his right hand, while his left arm is thrust out before him. Almost exactly the same image occurs on a coin from the reign of Septimius Severus, but this type is not dedicated to Sol, but to ‘IOVI PROPVGNATORI’. A coin from the reign of Marcus Aurelius likewise attributes both the lightning bolt and the title ‘propugnator’ to Jupiter.²⁹ Did Elagabalus substitute Sol for Jupiter to make a point? It is tempting to regard the ‘SOLI PROPVGNATORI’ coin as foreshadowing Elagabal’s new role as supreme Roman deity from the end of 220 onwards. However, in doing so we may be reading too much into it. The coin may just express the emperor’s sentiment that Sol – presumably Sol Invictus Elagabal – was comparable to Jupiter in power and status. It does not necessarily follow that plans already existed to dethrone the latter in order to install the former as the new head of the Roman pantheon.

Quite remarkable is the little star on the reverse of many of Elagabalus’s coins (see Figs 7–9). It appears on coins from every year during the period 218–22, although it is more common on coins from the later years of Elagabalus’s reign. It can be found on gold, silver and bronze, and appears on imperial coinage from both Rome and the East. Not only do the coins of Elagabalus himself sometimes have a star on the reverse, but also those of Julia Maesa, Julia Soaemias, Julia Paula, Aquilia Severa and Annia Faustina. The only member of the imperial house whose coins are consistently lacking a star is Alexander, but so few coin types of the Caesar have survived that this could well be merely coincidental – especially since the star does appear on many of Alexander’s coins as Augustus. According to Erika Manders, stars on imperial coinage probably indicate the emperor’s special divine status, either as a god or as a man with a special connection to the gods.³⁰ The star’s appearance on the coins of Elagabalus’s wives and relatives can be explained by their close connection to the emperor as members of the domus divina.

Elagabalus’s representation during the period 218–20 was highly traditional, but it has enough coherence to be regarded as an ideological programme. After an initial phase, in which the emperor relied heavily on the support of the soldiers and put much emphasis on military themes, most messages seem to have been aimed primarily at a civic public. The central image is that of the legitimate heir, descended from Caracalla and the Antonines, restoring the dynasty and heralding an age of peace and prosperity for the empire.

Not all aspects of Elagabalus’s representation are equally well worked out and connected with each other. While the dynastic arguments form a consistent whole, some other messages seem less clearly outlined. For instance, although the emperor is styled ‘Pius Felix’ in inscriptions and on some coins, messages on coins concerning ‘pietas’ or ‘felicitas’ are usually not tied to Elagabalus, but to Julia Maesa, as noted before. Jupiter, traditionally the emperor’s divine protector, had to share this honour with Elagabalus’s personal god Elagabal, probably further muddling the idea of a ruler with a special connection to the divine world. Moreover, the appearance of the black stone of Emesa on several coins, especially on those minted in the East, as well as the appearance of the star, beg the question whether the emperor’s representation during the early years of his reign was consciously anticipating the religious reforms of late 220. While this possibility cannot be excluded, the uncompromising nature of the reforms makes it rather unlikely that Elagabalus would allow his subjects a two-and-a-half-year period to get acquainted with their supreme-deity-to-be. It seems more plausible that the idea to put the Emesene sun god at the head of the Roman pantheon was conceived only a short time before it was executed. Up to then, Elagabalus’s devotion to Elagabal was probably no more than a curiosity to most of his subjects, a discordant note in the boy’s representation as a traditional, moderate and benign Roman princeps.

PRIEST-EMPEROR OF ELAGABAL

Although Elagabalus expressed his affinity to Sol Invictus Elagabal during the first years of his reign, there is very little evidence that he already emphasised his role as the god’s high priest. An interesting exception is the coin type described by Baldus, minted in Rome in 219, showing the emperor sacrificing in front of a quadriga in which the black stone is placed (Fig. 6). Elagabalus is dressed in what appears to be a tunica, rather than in his ‘Oriental’ priestly garb, but there can be no question that he is depicted as high priest of Elagabal. According to Baldus, the coin had been inspired by the portrait which the emperor allegedly sent to Rome from Nicomedia.³¹ It shows him making a sacrifice to Elagabal, who is also in the picture. Herodian records that orders were issued to hang this portrait in the senate house, high up over the statue of Victory, and that all senators had to burn incense and make a libation of wine to it on entering the building.

If this curious story is true, the portrait must have been sent on an imperial whim, as Herodian suggests. Apart from the Baldus-coin, there are no known coins and inscriptions from the period before the religious reforms which attest that Elagabalus was Elagabal’s high priest. Even in the East, where the black stone already appeared regularly on imperial coins before the end of 220, the emperor is never presented as its high priest, but only as ‘pontifex maximus’. The only coins which show him sacrificing bear the legend ‘VOTA PVLICA’, ‘public vows’.³² Since they were minted in the East, they are possibly referring to the consular vows Elagabalus took in Nicomedia at the beginning of 219. Despite Dio’s remark that the emperor refused to wear the triumphal dress on this occasion, the coins depict him in the traditional manner: he is wearing a toga, his head is veiled and he is sacrificing out of his open right hand over a lighted tripod or altar, holding a roll in his left hand. Any reference to the cult of Elagabal is absent.

At the end of 220, Elagabalus reformed Roman state religion. He put Elagabal at the head of the Roman pantheon and let himself be voted ‘sacerdos amplissimus dei invicti Solis Elagabali’ by the senate. Although he still styled himself ‘pontifex maximus’ as well after 220, inscriptions show that the title ‘sacerdos amplissimus’ took precedence: the emperor is consistently styled ‘sacerdos’ first and ‘pontifex’ second.³³ It is interesting to note that the words ‘sacerdos amplissimus’ seem like a deliberate allusion to ‘pontifex maximus’, probably emphasising that the functions described by these titles were very similar. His role as high priest of the empire’s new supreme deity put Elagabalus at the head of the new religious order, just as he had been at the head of the old order as ‘pontifex maximus’.

Both in Rome and in the East, imperial coins mentioning the emperor as ‘pontifex maximus’ on the reverse do not add the ‘sacerdos amplissimus’ title. However, they are often accompanied by an image of Elagabalus sacrificing in ‘Oriental’ garb (Fig. 8). Similar images are depicted on coin reverses bearing the legends ‘INVICTVS SACERDOS AVG(VSTVS)’ (Fig. 9), ‘SACERD(OS) DEI SOLIS ELAGAB(ALI)’ and ‘SVMMVS SACERDOS AVGVSTVS’.³⁴ As Lucinda Dirven has pointed out, the emperor’s priestly dress is quite different from the costume described by Herodian. Rather than the ankle-long ‘chiton’ and tiara-shaped crown the historian mentions, we see the emperor wearing trousers and a long-sleeved short tunic, sometimes with a ‘chlamys’ (mantle) on top. Instead of a crown or tiara, he wears the conventional imperial diadem.³⁵

This outfit, Dirven argues, is not identical with any of the Syrian priestly garments known to us. It probably represents a Roman adjustment of the original costume, if not a complete innovation. She speculates that it may have been designed to appeal to the troops, since long-sleeved tunics, trousers and mantles became common dress for Roman soldiers in the third century CE. Moreover, Dio records that Caracalla wore Germanic dress (consisting of the aforementioned articles of clothing) during his Eastern campaigns.³⁶ By presenting himself in a similar outfit, Elagabalus may have been attempting to evoke associations with his ‘father’. Dirven suggests that his depiction as sacerdos amplissimus could be seen as an appeal to the troops, proclaiming military invincibility. If she is right, Caracalla once again became more central to the representation of Elagabalus. The initial strong association of the emperor with his predecessor had apparently ceased with the introduction of bust type 2 in 219. Now, a year later, the bond may have been tightened again.

What is also striking about the iconography of the coins presenting the emperor as priest of Elagabal is that they present a novel phenomenon in a very traditional way. Elagabalus is depicted standing next to an altar, or, in some cases, a tripod, holding a ‘patera’ (a ceremonial dish used for libations) in his right hand and a twig in his left hand. Often, there is a prostrate bull next to the altar, and in almost every instance there appears a star. With the exception of the dress, this could have been a coin image of any Roman emperor of the principate, sacrificing as pontifex maximus. Obviously, the images of Elagabalus as sacerdos amplissimus are less outlandish than they may appear to have been on the basis of the extant historiographical records.

A similar point could be made for the coin types depicting the black stone of Emesa as ‘CONSERVATOR AVG(VSTI)’ (Fig. 7). While the stone itself is obviously not a part of traditional Roman iconography, the quadriga in which it rides is reminiscent of Augustan coins depicting a quadriga with ears of corn in it.³⁷ The title ‘conservator’ was usually attributed to Jupiter, but had been granted to other gods as well. By styling Elagabal as such, the emperor’s exotic god was, to some extent, incorporated into the familiar territory of Roman tradition. Moreover, according to the BMC, there are only two coin types for the period 220–22 showing an image of the black stone. In contrast, no less than 12 coin types depicting an anthropomorphic Sol were struck during this period. Two of these even style the god ‘CONSERVATOR AVG(VSTI)’, which may indicate that they are referring to Sol Invictus Elagabal.³⁸ However, the name of the Syrian sun god does not occur on any coins depicting an anthropomorphic Sol, leaving the exact identity of the depicted deity ambiguous – which was probably the intention.

Two noteworthy changes occur in Elagabalus’s portraits on the obverses of coins after the religious reforms. Firstly, the emperor grows a beard in 221 (see Figs 8–10). This feat can be explained by his coming of age, although the growth of facial hair may have been exaggerated to underline that the emperor was no longer a boy. In addition, the beard may indicate an attempt to resemble portraits of Caracalla more closely. This could be taken as support for Dirven’s theory that the emperor aimed his presentation as sacerdos amplissimus primarily at the troops, with whom Caracalla had been very popular. Secondly, some issues from 221 onwards show Elagabalus with something protruding from his forehead (see Figs 8–10).³⁹ The object has often been identified as a horn, but on close inspection it does not have the right shape for that. Elke Krengel offers an alternative explanation: she claims the ‘horn’ is actually the end of a dried bull’s penis.⁴⁰

Although this may sound unlikely at first, Krengel’s arguments are intriguing. Firstly, when the ‘horn’ is compared to the end of a dried bull’s penis, the similarities in shape are remarkable. Secondly, Krengel gives several parallels of gods and priests wearing a human phallus on their head. Seen in this light, wearing a bull’s penis does not seem particularly outrageous. Krengel shows that the ‘horn’ only appears on coins which show either a sacrificial scene on the reverse or celebrate the appointment of the new consuls – an event at which sacrifices were made as well. This strongly suggests that the significance of the ‘horn’ was religious. Krengel considers it to have been a symbol of fertility and strength, transferring the power of Elagabal to his high priest. There is at least one ancient parallel for this claim, albeit from a Hethitic, rather than a Syrian, setting.⁴¹Moreover, the bull was commonly considered to be a strong, energetic and above all virile animal. Some scholars, like Dirven, think that a Roman emperor wearing a bull’s penis would have been too outrageous, and reject Krengel’s interpretation as a typical example of the notion that everything was possible where ‘Oriental’ religions are concerned.⁴² Still, a more plausible explanation has not been found thus far, so it seems best to keep an open mind.

If the changes on imperial coins and in imperial inscriptions are remarkable, the impact of the religious reforms on the emperor’s public appearance must have been even more profound. The pompous, colourful ceremonies conducted in honour of Elagabal, like the public sacrifices and the stone’s procession from one temple to the other, must have been exotic events in Roman eyes – amusing perhaps, but undoubtedly alienating and, quite possibly, offensive. Likewise, Elagabalus’s marriage to a vestal virgin and his decision to collect all the city’s sacred objects in the temple of Elagabal can hardly have been measures on which the Romans looked favourably. While the coins and inscriptions seem to make an effort to fit Elagabalus’s religious reforms into a traditionally Roman pattern, using variations on established formulas and iconography, the emperor himself appears to have largely, if not completely, ignored Roman traditions.

How to explain this dichotomy? Does the familiar language used on coins and in inscriptions just indicate that the people responsible for them – whoever they were – tried to come to terms with Elagabalus’s reforms within their own cultural framework? Or did they make a deliberate attempt to present the new religious order in ways which were familiar to the Roman viewer?

Although the former explanation is certainly valid, it does not prevent the latter from being true as well. When we look at imperial coins and inscriptions of Elagabalus from the end of 220 onwards, it is clear that the way in which the emperor was represented was drastically redefined. Strikingly, there are far more coins depicting Elagabalus than there are coins depicting his god. The BMC lists 31 gold and silver coin types showing Elagabalus as high priest of Elagabal in the categories 220–22, 221 and 222. Twenty-four of these were minted in Rome, seven in the East. In the same categories, we find only ten types showing the sun god, all of which were minted in Rome.⁴³ Eight of these bear an image of an anthropomorphic Sol, who is not explicitly identified as Elagabal; four present the god as ‘conservator Augusti’ and are therefore indirectly concerned with the emperor as well. Moreover, bronze coins provide us with a similar picture. In the categories 218–22, 221 and 222, there are no more than four coin types showing the sun god, who is depicted in anthropomorphic shape and is not explicitly identified as Elagabal, while 17 types show Elagabalus sacrificing in his priestly garb.⁴⁴ Mattingly correctly concludes, ‘The emperor [...] is glorified even more than the god whom he worships.’⁴⁵

The shift in the emperor’s numismatic representation was probably orchestrated by members of his court or administration. These people, who had a personal interest in keeping Elagabalus on the throne, must have been aware of his weak position. Unlike his Severan predecessors, Elagabalus had not distinguished himself by fighting foreign enemies or adorning Rome with impressive buildings. He had come to power by pretending to be Caracalla’s son – a claim which some of his subjects, at least, knew to be false. Far from being a renowned politician or general, the ‘new Antoninus’ had gained the throne as a 14-year-old boy without any political or military experience. By dethroning Jupiter as the chief Roman god and marrying a vestal virgin he had displayed grave disrespect for Rome’s most sacred traditions. Clearly, the emperor’s alleged ancestry, virtues and achievements fell short in providing a solid legitimation for his reign.

Considering these circumstances, it is not surprising that a different strategy was adopted at the end of 220. Elagabalus’s subordinates had to find a way to deal with the religious reforms the emperor imposed on Rome. While they could not stop him elevating Elagabal to the position of supreme Roman deity and having his priesthood of the Emesene sun god officially recognised by the senate, they did their best to present these changes in a way which was familiar to the Roman public – and, therefore, hopefully easier to accept. Both the title ‘sacerdos amplissimus’ and the messages on coins use a language with which the Romans were well acquainted. But the ambitions of the people constructing the messages seem to have gone further than just presenting the religious reforms in an acceptable way. It appears they attempted to use Elagabalus’s new priestly role as an alternative ideological foundation for his rule. By emphasising the emperor’s special position as sacerdos amplissimus of Elagabal, they tried to make his reputation less dependent on his ancestry and his qualities and achievements as a ruler, instead focusing on supernatural arguments to enhance his withering prestige.

From the end of 220, Elagabalus was portrayed as the faithful servant and priest of a very powerful god: Sol Invictus Elagabal, supreme ruler over the Roman pantheon, who served as the emperor’s divine protector. Like the god who watched over him, Elagabalus boasted invincibility: he was the invictus sacerdos Augustus, the invincible priest-emperor. Although the nicknames Elagabalus and Heliogabalus suggest otherwise, there is no reason to assume that the emperor was supposed to be regarded as the earthly incarnation of Elagabal: he is never depicted as Sol and wears a radiate only on coins with ‘double value’. There are no contemporary sources calling him Elagabalus or Elagabal: those names are only attributed to the god, whose earthly incarnation was the black stone. Nevertheless, the emperor’s close, personal bond with Elagabal may well have suggested a superhuman status. As the supreme mediator between the human and the divine world, Elagabalus occupied a unique and important position. Like a pontifex maximus, the invincible priest-emperor did not make sacrifices on his own behalf, but on behalf of all his subjects, whose well-being depended on the favour of the almighty sun god. Only Elagabalus, high priest of Elagabal, could obtain that divine favour and secure peace and prosperity for the realm.

Elagabalus’s new representation as invincible priest-emperor does not seem to have been directed at any specific group. Coins showing the emperor sacrificing to Elagabal were minted both in Rome and in the East and include both silver and bronze issues. Interestingly, Elagabalus is never shown as sacerdos amplissimus on gold coins, although he appears in a more traditional role, standing laureate and togate in a quadriga. The black stone of Emesa is depicted only on two issues in the period 220–22, both of which are aurei.⁴⁶ Perhaps this was a way to represent the difference in status between the god and his high priest. In addition, we should keep in mind that aurei only reached a very exclusive group, whereas silver and bronze coins spread among a much wider audience.

In the period 218–19, the black stone was depicted on seven issues, which included both gold and silver coins.⁴⁷ Apparently, both the elite and the troops were targeted with this image. The betyl may have gained in status during the later period, but simultaneously seems to have been pushed into the background, confirming that the coins were first and foremost concerned with presenting Elagabalus in his new role as sacerdos amplissimus dei invicti Solis Elagabali.

Despite the changes in the imperial representation, more traditional messages and images did not completely disappear. For instance, traditional Roman figures like Providentia and Victory still appear on coins from 221. A coin of Aquilia Severa mentions ‘VESTA’ on the reverse. The emperor himself is not only depicted as high priest of Elagabal, but also as dressed in a Roman toga, clasping hands with Aquilia Severa or Annia Faustina, or riding in a quadriga.⁴⁸ Imperial inscriptions from 221 and 222 still explicitly claim Elagabalus’s descent from Caracalla and Septimius Severus. And while the title ‘sacerdos amplissimus’ took precedent over that of ‘pontifex maximus’, the latter was maintained and also continued to appear on the obverses of coins.⁴⁹

Most striking are the coins of Alexander as Caesar. Although the emperor’s newly acquired ‘son’ received the title ‘nobilissimus Caesar imperii et sacerdotis’, ‘most noble Caesar of the empire and the priesthood’, presumably not only linking him to the empire but to the cult of Elagabal as well, his coinage makes no reference whatsoever to the sun god from Emesa. On the contrary, several of Alexander’s coins bear the reverse legend ‘PIETAS AVG(VSTI)’ (‘piety of the emperor’) and depict traditional Roman priestly emblems: a ‘lituus’, a knife, a ‘patera’, a tall jug, a ‘simpulum’ and a sprinkler. Other issues style the young Caesar ‘PONTIFEX CO(N)S(VL)’, which seems like a deliberate reference to traditional Roman state religion.⁵⁰ Mattingly remarks that the Roman mint under Elagabalus was probably divided into five ‘officinae’ (divisions), one of which was shared between the imperial women and Alexander. Although this would explain the explicitly traditional messages on Alexander’s coins, nothing indicates that such a division in officinae indeed existed. It seems more likely that the presentation of Alexander as a traditional Roman prince was a well-calculated strategy by people in the imperial administration to set the boy up as a potential successor to the controversial Elagabalus. More than anything, perhaps, this shows their awareness that the position of the priest-emperor, whether he was presented as invincible or not, could very well become untenable in the near future.

RESPONSES OF SUBJECTS

It may well be that the damnatio memoriae which befell Elagabalus after his death has muddled our view of how his subjects perceived him during his reign. The accounts of Cassius Dio and Herodian present the emperor in a very negative way, the former describing him as ‘one by whom nothing was done that was not evil and base’, the latter as ‘an emperor who was a disgrace’.⁵¹ However, we should keep in mind that Dio was closely associated with Severus Alexander, the emperor who had Elagabalus’s memory condemned in the first place. It would have been impossible for Dio, who finished his work during Alexander’s reign, to show Elagabalus in a positive light. Herodian had no such restrictions, since he wrote after Alexander’s death, but based his work partly on Dio’s and may therefore have copied many negative stereotypes from his fellow historian.

Even so, it seems unlikely that Dio’s and Herodian’s real judgement of Elagabalus was much more lenient than the one they presented in their histories. A traditional Roman senator like Dio was probably appalled by the unprecedented violation of sacred Roman traditions which took place during Elagabalus’s reign. The historian remarks that the emperor’s offence consisted ‘not in his introducing a foreign god into Rome or in his exalting him in very strange ways, but in his placing him even before Jupiter himself and causing himself to be voted his priest, also in his circumcising himself and abstaining from swine’s flesh, on the ground that his devotion would thereby be purer’. He also condemns the union of Elagabalus and Aquilia Severa, pointing out that the emperor was ‘most flagrantly violating the law’ by cohabitating with a vestal virgin. The marriage of the god Elagabal to Urania was, in Dio’s opinion, an ‘extreme absurdity’. All of these seem like genuine sentiments for a man who held Roman traditions in high regard and was displeased to see them treated without respect. It is not unlikely that other members of the Roman elite reacted in a similar fashion to Elagabalus’s actions. Herodian certainly agreed with Dio in this respect, since he remarks that ‘all that was once held in respect was reduced in this way to a state of dishonour and frenzied madness’.⁵²

Both Dio and Herodian use negative stereotypes to characterise Elagabalus, expressing their disapproval of the young emperor whenever possible. We should be hesitant to regard many of these numerous accusations as much more than malicious invention, but there seems at least one other possible reason for Dio to disapprove of Elagabalus. Time and time again, the historian refers to his subject as the ‘False Antoninus’, indicating that Elagabalus was not the son of Caracalla at all and therefore not the legitimate heir to the throne. He names Sextus Varius Marcellus as Elagabalus’s real father. If Dio knew that the emperor was (in all probability) the son of Marcellus, other members of the Roman elite must also have been aware of this.

Interestingly, Herodian does not make up his mind about the matter: he thinks that it ‘may or may not have been true’ that Elagabalus was Caracalla’s son, but does not seem to attach much value to the answer one way or the other.⁵³ It is also interesting to note that Dio is a lot less vehement about Septimius Severus adopting himself into the Antonine dynasty than he is about Elagabalus pretending to be the son of Caracalla. Perhaps this could be explained by the fact that Severus’s position as emperor was already secured when he took this decision, while Elagabalus only managed to gain the purple because of it. Alternatively, it is possible that the name ‘False Antoninus’ was just another slander against an emperor that Dio already disliked. If the latter is the case, the historian’s criticism of Elagabalus’s invented ancestry should be regarded as a consequence rather than a cause of his dislike.

We have very little material to answer the question how other members of the Roman elite experienced the reign of Elagabalus, although there is no reason to assume that their perception was much different from Dio’s. The Vita Heliogabali in the Historia Augusta probably used the now-lost historical account of the emperor’s contemporary Marius Maximus as an important source. Therefore, the extremely negative tone of the Vita could be taken as indication that Maximus likewise disapproved of Elagabalus. Another tantalising clue may be found in the acts of the senatorial priesthood of the arval brothers of 218, the year in which Elagabalus became a member. Contrary to the acts of previous years, this inscription records the rituals of the brothers in a very elaborate and precise manner. The same seems to be the case for the acts of 219, although this inscription is much more damaged. In all likelihood, what remains is only a small fraction. From 220 onwards, the acts are a lot shorter and less specific again.⁵⁴ Could it be that the brothers initially feared that Elagabalus would abolish or somehow drastically reform their priesthood? The fact that the emperor joined the brothers himself seems to speak against the former, but not necessarily against the latter. If such a fear did indeed exist, the ‘priest-emperor’ must have been notorious for his religious zeal from the start. However, we should also allow for the possibility that the elaborate records of the arval rituals during the first two years of Elagabalus’s reign are merely coincidental.

According to an anecdote in the work of Flavius Philostratus, the sophist Aelian composed an invective against Elagabalus after the emperor’s death, ‘because by every sort of wanton wickedness he disgraced the Roman Empire’.⁵⁵ When Aelian tells Philostratus of Lemnos about his work, the latter is not impressed, remarking that ‘while it takes a real man to try to curb a living tyrant, anyone can trample on him when he is down.’ This is a valid point, but even if we put considerations of personal well-being aside, the question remains to what extent Elagabalus’s damnatio memoriae influenced Aelian’s negative portrayal of the priest-emperor. Was it only out of caution that the sophist waited to write his invective until after Elagabalus’s death? Did the official condemnation of Elagabalus by Severus Alexander encourage Aelian to portray him in a more negative way than he would have done otherwise? We can only speculate.

The same can be asked with regard to Flavius Philostratus himself, who, according to Michael Meckler, mocks Elagabalus in one of his love letters.⁵⁶ Allegedly, this occurs in the long version of letter number 19, which is addressed to a young male prostitute and probably predates the shorter version, in which a female prostitute is the addressee. Philostratus remarks that the boy should not feel ashamed of putting his body at everybody’s disposal, because the sun is a common god, too. The word used for ‘common’ is ‘δημόσιος’, which, as Meckler points out, makes reference to the state and thus to state religion. The boy’s home is compared to a citadel of beauty, those who enter to priests, those who are garlanded as sacred envoys and their silver to tribute money. The letter concludes, ‘Rule graciously over your subjects, and receive what they offer, and, furthermore, accept their adoration.’ The image of Elagabalus as a male prostitute can be found in both Dio and the Historia Augusta, rendering it not unlikely that Philostratus’s letter does indeed refer to the priest-emperor. This hypothesis gains even more plausibility when we take into account that Philostratus probably also criticised Caracalla in one of his love letters.⁵⁷

Considering both the accounts of contemporary historians and other indications of the elite’s perception of Elagabalus, the impression is strengthened that dislike of the emperor was genuine among the upper classes and not just the hypocritical by-product of Elagabalus’s damnatio memoriae. In fact, it could be argued that the damnatio itself is the most persuasive argument for the emperor’s unpopularity with the senate, since Severus Alexander worked in close alliance with this government body and seldom seems to have acted without senatorial consent. Of course, one could argue that Alexander had no choice but to condemn Elagabalus, since his coming to power was the direct result of the revolt against his predecessor. However, the fact remains that Alexander’s violent ascension to the throne did no apparent damage to his good reputation and therefore must have met with general approval from the senate. Likewise, it seems beyond reasonable doubt that the reversal of Elagabalus’s religious reforms was warmly welcomed by the traditional Roman elite. If there were any knights and senators who mourned the priest-emperor, they have left no traces of their sentiments. In the light of the available evidence, we can assume that the majority, at least, cherished little love or respect for the eldest self-proclaimed son of Caracalla.

Little can be said about Elagabalus’s popularity with the people of Rome. Considering the many festivals mentioned in the ancient sources and the many liberalitas gifts of the emperor, it is not unthinkable that the majority of the population held a favourable view of the young monarch, who was the first emperor to spend time in the capital since Caracalla had left for the East. However, more invectives are known for Elagabalus than for any other emperor.⁵⁸ Dio alone records ‘False Antoninus’, ‘the Assyrian’, ‘Sardanapalus’ and ‘Tiberinus’, the last of these referring to the fact that Elagabalus was thrown into the Tiber after his death. Philostratus adds ‘Gynnis’ (‘womanish man’, allegedly attributed to the emperor by the philosopher Aelian), and the anonymous author of the Epitome de Caesaribus mentions Tiberinus and Tractitius, a reference to the fact that Elagabalus’s corpse was dragged through the streets by the soldiers (‘trahere’, ‘to drag’).

Have these names merely been made up by hostile writers, or were they actually used during or shortly after the emperor’s reign? The Epitome de Caesaribus claims that both Tractitius and Tiberinus were names by which the emperor ‘was called’.⁵⁹ Obviously, this can only have happened after Elagabalus’s gruesome death. The other names may already have been used during his lifetime. In general, it seems plausible that reigning emperors received nicknames, whether positive or negative, although the negative names were probably not used to their face. However, even if such invectives as ‘False Antoninus’ and ‘Sardanapalus’ were used for Elagabalus during his reign, the question remains who did the name calling. It may well have been the praetorians and the people of Rome, but this is no more than a plausible guess. Ultimately, the sentiments of the Roman populace with regard to the priest-emperor and his peculiar god remain hidden to us.

We are hardly better informed about the opinion of the soldiers. The riots of the praetorians clearly demonstrate that they took a dislike to Elagabalus, probably because they were alienated by his ‘un-Roman’ behaviour, but it is impossible to discern to what extent the attitude of the praetorian guard reflected that of soldiers in the provinces. To be sure, many troops in Syria supported Elagabalus in the revolt against Macrinus, but that does not tell us anything about their opinion of the boy after he had gained the throne and left for Rome, nor is it clear what soldiers in other parts of the empire thought about Elagabalus. Inscriptions indicate that most soldiers acknowledged the emperor as the son of Caracalla and the grandson of Severus. However, no inscriptions are known in which soldiers use Elagabalus’s ‘sacerdos amplissimus’ title. Only three inscriptions erected by soldiers mention the god Elagabal, all predating Elagabalus’s reign.⁶⁰ Whether this is merely coincidental or reflects military reluctance to accept the religious reforms of the priest-emperor cannot be decided on the basis of the available evidence.

Civic provincial attitudes towards Elagabalus and his Emesene sun god are better recorded in the surviving sources. Inscriptions by imperial officials, local elites and city populaces mention the emperor as the son of Caracalla and the grandson of Severus. Veterans from the colony of Sitifis in Mauretania Caesariensis (present-day western Algeria) traced Elagabalus’s descent all the way back to Nerva, apparently putting pride in the dynastic continuity between the founder of their colony and the current emperor. At least one city, Anazarbos in Cilicia (present-day southern Turkey), celebrated Antoniniana in honour of Elagabalus’s victory over Macrinus.⁶¹

The title ‘sacerdos amplissimus’ also appears in inscriptions from the period 218–22, although not nearly as often as Elagabalus’s alleged descent from Caracalla and Severus. Considering that the priestly office became part of the official imperial titles only at the end of 220, this is perhaps not surprising. However, the ‘sacerdos’ title is also missing in some inscriptions which certainly date from 221 or 222, which may indicate resistance against it. On the other hand, Elagabalus is addressed as ‘sacerdos amplissimus’ by Flavius Sossianus, governor of Numidia (eastern Algeria/Tunisia). The title also appears in an official request by representatives of an unknown colony with regard to the water supply. Likewise, the emperor’s office as high priest of Elagabal is mentioned by the local senate of Assisi.⁶² This shows that, even at a local level, some people were aware of the new priestly title. Moreover, they apparently regarded it as one of Elagabalus’s official imperial titles, and seem to have had no reservations in using it.

Some provincial responses went further than simply accepting the changes brought about by the emperor’s religious reforms. During the period 218–22, several cities in the empire minted coins with an image of the black stone in a quadriga on the reverse, portrayed either from the front or from the side. Apart from Rome and Emesa, these were Aelia Capitolina, Alexandria, Anazarbos, Hierapolis-Castabala (Cilicia), Juliopolis (Bithynia), Laodicea ad Mare (Syria Phoenice) and Neapolis (Samaria).⁶³ It is probably no coincidence that three of these cities, Anazarbos, Hierapolis-Castabala and Juliopolis, lie on or relatively near the route from Antioch to Rome which Elagabalus took in 218–19. The emperor seems to have visited at least one of them: Anazarbos, which minted a coin with a reverse showing Elagabalus on horseback with a spear in his hand.⁶⁴ This image can probably be interpreted as a variation on the adventus theme, the depiction of an imperial arrival. More surprising, perhaps, is the appearance of Elagabal on coins from Aelia Capitolina, Laodicea and Neapolis. These are all cities where many troops were stationed, which may indicate military approval of the Emesene sun god. On the other hand, the geographical location of these three cities in or near Syria provides an alternative explanation for their readiness to mint coins of a local Syrian deity.

The fact that the black stone appears on the coinage of several cities during Elagabalus’s reign is, in itself, not enough to establish that the cult of Elagabal was indeed introduced in these cities. It is possible that local authorities were just following the example of imperial coinage, on which Elagabal was first portrayed in 219. However, in some cases we have definite proof for the introduction of the Emesene sun cult. An inscription from Altava, situated in the province of Mauretania Caesariensis, records that the city’s ‘possessores’ built a temple to Elagabal in 221, paid for with money from collections. In Attaleia (Pamphylia), the city council and the people dedicated an undated inscription to the Emesene deity.⁶⁵ Although the name Elagabal has been erased, undoubtedly after the death and condemnation of the priest-emperor, it is still readable.

A coin from Sardes (Lydia), minted during the reign of Elagabalus, records the celebration of ‘Elagabalia’, a festival not in honour of the emperor, but of the god himself. It was celebrated when one Hermophilos held the office of first archon for the second time. Another Sardes coin, likewise mentioning Hermophilos in this office and therefore minted in the same year, records the celebration of ‘Chrysantina’, a festival in honour of the fertility goddess Korè. This leads Louis Robert to speculate that the cult of Elagabal was connected to the cult of Korè in Sardes. His claim is strengthened by two other coin types bearing the name of Hermophilos. On one of these, the statue of Korè is carried by a figure in a quadriga, raising his right arm in the traditional greeting gesture of Helios; on the other, the goddess is surrounded by two ears of corn and symbols for the sun and moon.⁶⁶ This is reminiscent of the divine marriage between Elagabal and Urania in Rome, since Herodian records that Elagabalus regarded the event as an appropriate union between sun and moon. It seems plausible that something similar happened in Sardes with Elagabal and Korè.

No other instances are known of cities celebrating Elagabalia, although an inscription indicates that the god may also have been honoured with games in Thyatira (Lydia). However, as Robert points out, there do seem to be several other cities in which Elagabal was connected to a female deity. A passage in the Vita Antonini Caracallae of the Historia Augusta mentions that Elagabalus instituted a shrine in the temple of the divine Faustina in Faustinopolis (Cappadocia), ‘either for himself or for the Syrian Jupiter (the matter is uncertain) or for the Sun’. Both on imperial and provincial coinage, Faustina is associated with moon goddesses, which makes it plausible that yet another union between sun and moon took place in Faustinopolis. Likewise, Robert argues that in Hierapolis-Castabala Elagabal was connected to Perasia in Hierapolis-Castabala, a local goddess who could be associated with Selene, Artemis and Aphrodite, and may have been connected to Demeter in Nicomedia, since that city celebrated ‘Demetria Antoni(ni)a’ during Elagabalus’s reign.⁶⁷ There is no definite proof for any of these unions, but the evidence gathered by Robert is compelling, especially when one considers the separate cases in relation to each other.

More research on this topic has been done by Ruprecht Ziegler. He has remarked that the holy mountain Zarbos at Anazarbos, which was connected with the deity Zeus Olybreus, is thematised on local coins from the reign of Elagabalus, something which had not happened since Trajan (98–117CE) and would not happen again after the priest-emperor’s death. Perhaps this indicates that Zeus Olybreus was somehow connected to Elagabal, who simultaneously appeared on Anazarbos coins in the form of the black stone. The local deity Aphrodite Kassalitis, a mountain, weather and vegetation goddess who was mainly worshipped on the acropolis, may have been associated with the wife of the Emesene sun god. Ziegler also supposes the introduction of the Elagabal cult in Laodicea and Neapolis, cities which both minted coins showing the black stone as well. In Laodicea, Elagabal may have been associated with a local betyl. This certainly seems to have been the case in Neapolis, which minted coins showing the black stone of Emesa with a representation of the holy mountain Gerizim. As was the case with Mount Zarbos, both the betyl of Laodicea and Mount Gerizim were probably associated with Zeus. They also seem to have had solar aspects, which would have made the association with the Emesene sun god only a small step.⁶⁸ However, there are no indications that Elagabal wedded any local deities in these cities.

According to Ziegler, we can assume that the cult of Elagabal was introduced in very many cities, but is only attested in a few because of the shortness of Elagabalus’s reign. This seems to indicate that the introduction of the cult did not occur spontaneously, but was the result of an imperial decree, demanding worship from citizens all over the empire. Yet even taking Elagabalus’s short reign and damnatio memoriae into account, the available evidence is too scarce to warrant such a far-reaching conclusion. Except for Rome, the only three cities which we know for certain to have adopted the cult of Elagabal are Altava, where the possessores erected a temple for Elagabal; Attaleia, where the city council and the people dedicated an inscription to the Emesene deity; and Sardes, where Elagabalia were celebrated.⁶⁹ The inscription from Attaleia is undated, making it highly likely, but not absolutely certain, that Elagabal was introduced there during Elagabalus’s reign.

In addition, many of the cities which certainly, probably or possibly adopted the worship of the invincible sun god from Emesa are situated in Asia Minor, where Elagabalus lingered for several months after his victory over Macrinus. Anazarbos, Attaleia, Faustinopolis, Hierapolis-Castabala, Juliopolis, Sardes and Nicomedia all must have either received a visit from the new ruler, or at least had him pass close by. It is significant that several of these cities managed to secure desirable honours from Elagabalus. Sardes and Nicomedia both received a third neocory, an honour connected with the right to erect a temple to the emperor, while Anazarbos was granted the right to call itself ‘πρώτη, μεγίστη’ and ‘καλλίστη’, ‘first, biggest and most beautiful’ city of Cilicia. Moreover, the emperor honoured the city by accepting the office of demiurge in 221–22.⁷⁰ It seems reasonable to assume that these honours were meant as rewards for including Elagabal into the local pantheon. In all likelihood, cities which did so were not submitting to an imperial policy of compulsory worship, but acted on their own initiative. In the eternal rivalry between the poleis of the empire, adopting the cult of the emperor’s personal god was just another means of winning imperial favour.

The damnatio memoriae of Elagabalus led to the destruction of his portraits and the deletion of his name from inscriptions and papyri. Sardes and Nicomedia lost the neocories which the emperor had bestowed on them. Anazarbos had to give up its right to the titles ‘first, biggest and most beautiful’, and ceased to celebrate Antoninia in honour of Elagabalus.⁷¹ Since Severus Alexander re-established Jupiter as the chief god of the Roman pantheon and banished Elagabal from the capital, it is not surprising that the black stone disappeared from civic coinage. Nor are there any inscriptions after 222 which mention temples being erected for Elagabal, or games being held in his honour.

Of course, all these measures may have been no more than formal responses to the damnatio of the priest-emperor, and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments of those involved. Yet there are some indications that the negative images of Elagabalus broadcast by his successor and found in the literary works of the elite influenced the general view of the late emperor. Two papyrus texts from Oxyrhynchus, both written by unknown authors and dated several decades after Elagabalus’s death, are very outspoken in their contempt. The first, a horoscope, calls him ‘Antoninus the catamite’; the second, a planetary table, refers to him as ‘the unholy little Antoninus’.⁷² It seems that, by the late third century at least, the alleged vices of the priest-emperor were taken for granted.

EMPEROR IN THE THIRD CENTURY

It has been remarked that the reign of Elagabalus was ‘practically devoid of political interest’.⁷³ Leaving the matter of the religious reforms aside – for in Rome, religion was as much part of politics as politics were part of religion – this statement may well be true. After Elagabalus had defeated Macrinus in 218 and gained the throne, he seems to have taken no decisions of great importance. No wars were waged during his reign. There were no important economic reforms, nor were there any grand monuments added to the face of the Eternal City, with the exception of one or two big temples to Elagabal. Only the adoption of Alexander in 221 would have significant consequences beyond the emperor’s short reign. On the other hand, there were no large-scale famines or epidemics, no civil wars or barbarian invasions. There are no signs of misgovernment: roads and buildings were maintained and the provinces were governed by men who were at least of equestrian rank. Compared to the political and military upheaval which would follow, the years 218–22 can be considered one of the most tranquil and peaceful periods of the third century.

Nevertheless, Elagabalus was violently overthrown by the praetorians and suffered a damnatio memoriae. It seems too easy to explain these events solely, or even primarily, by pointing to the ambitions of Severus Alexander and his supporters. After all, the last Severan emperor was about the same age as his predecessor when he gained the throne, had a similar dynastic claim, and likewise refrained from taking important decisions. However, Alexander managed to stay in power for 13 years and was overthrown only when the empire was facing dire military threats from the Persians and the Germans.

The explanation for Elagabalus’s short reign should probably be sought first and foremost in his attempts to reform Roman state religion. The radical changes which the young monarch brought about in this field clashed with traditions which many Romans held sacred. Jupiter had to make room for a new chief deity, whose appearance and cult were distinctly ‘un-Roman’, while the emperor himself committed the unprecedented crime of marrying a vestal virgin. Both the Roman elite and the praetorian guard probably could not identify themselves with the priest from Emesa, who dishonoured their traditional gods, tried to impose a cult on Rome which many seem to have regarded as typically ‘Oriental’, and probably did little or nothing to make a positive impression. Where Alexander was careful and reigned in concordance with the senate, Elagabalus provoked.

Yet it would be misleading to look upon the religious reforms of 220 as nothing more than the acts of a religious fanatic. Elagabalus himself may have been primarily, or even exclusively, interested in the elevation of his god to the foremost ranks of the imperial pantheon, but his assistants and advisers, whose positions depended on his survival, had more mundane interests in mind. As has been discussed, the emperor’s position as sacerdos amplissimus of Elagabal was used in an attempt to grant him the prestige which could not be derived from his alleged ancestry, personality and worldly achievements. Elagabalus was presented as the ‘invincible priest-emperor’ who, as the privileged intermediary to the empire’s new chief deity, secured the welfare of his subjects.

This supernatural legitimation was not completely new. Commodus (180–92CE) had already experimented with somewhat similar arguments, presenting himself as a superhuman gladiator and Roman Hercules who personally guarded the empire against any ‘monsters’ which might attack it. Septimius Severus broadened the personalistic god-emperorship of his predecessor to the whole Severan house, connecting the ‘felicitas’ (‘blessing’) of the empire to the imperial household. Both he and his son Caracalla also accentuated their own superhuman status, albeit less emphatically than Commodus had done. Like the last Antonine emperor, they claimed Hercules as their personal god. The Roman Sol also played an important part in their representation. Severus and Caracalla connected their dynasty to the sun god and used solar and astral symbolism to imply that they were destined to rule.⁷⁴

After the death of Severus Alexander in 235, the empire entered a period of turmoil which has become known as the ‘crisis of the third century’. Wars with the Persians, invading tribes, famine, pestilence and an endless line of claimants to the imperial title put a heavy strain on the empire. During these troublesome times, other emperors followed on the path which Commodus and the Severans had taken. Like Elagabalus, most of them could not boast any strong dynastic claims or impressive military victories. Since these traditional means of legitimation were no longer practicable, they searched for other ways to justify their power and enhance their prestige. The alarming disintegration of the empire called for a strong, uniting figure, someone with power and charisma surpassing that of mere mortals. More and more, the emperor was elevated above his subjects, transforming from princeps into dominus. His position became sacred, a development which culminated in the reigns of the Christian emperors of the Late Empire, who presented themselves as rulers by the grace of the one, universal God of the Bible.

Elagabalus’s role as sacerdos amplissimus of Elagabal may be considered an intermediate stage in this process towards sacred emperorship. However, we should be careful that our knowledge of the outcome does not make us overestimate the young monarch’s importance. Elagabalus was but one of many third-century emperors who tried to create a supernatural basis of power, and a shortlived one at that. His representation as ‘invincible priest-emperor’ was a product of the times, rather than a determinant for them.

Even less plausible is the notion that Elagabalus prepared the way for Christian monotheism, as some historians would have it.⁷⁵ Apart from the brevity of his reign and his unfavourable reputation, which destroyed any exemplary value his reforms may have had, Elagabalus never attempted to make Elagabal the empire’s sole god. The elevation of Elagabal to chief Roman deity should therefore not be compared to Constantine’s acceptance of Christianity, but rather to the religious reforms of Aurelian (270–75CE). Like his predecessor, this emperor used Sol Invictus to legitimise and strengthen his position. In 274, he instated the sun god at the head of the Roman pantheon. However, in doing so, Aurelian avoided any explicitly un-Roman elements, not identifying the sun as Elagabal or another local deity, but presenting it as a god of a more general nature. A new college of priests, the ‘pontifices dei Solis’, was put in charge of the worship of the god. Although this college fell under the authority of Aurelian as pontifex maximus, the emperor did not create a new title to present himself as high priest of the sun. Instead of putting himself at the centre of the cult, as Elagabalus had done, he was content to call Sol his ‘divine comes’ and ‘conservator.’ Not he, but the sun god was the true lord of the empire, the ‘dominus Imperii Romani’. In his worship, the people of the empire should be united.⁷⁶

Although Aurelian was murdered the year after he put through his religious reforms, there are no indications that his downfall was hastened by the elevation of Sol to the head of the Roman pantheon. Unlike Elagabalus, the emperor did not disturb the religious traditions of Rome, and avoided the impression that Jupiter had been overthrown by a ‘foreign’ god. Arguably, the mental climate in the 270s may have been less hostile towards religious reforms than the period fifty years before; dethroning Jupiter had been unprecedented. Nevertheless, it seems likely that Aurelian would have met with more resistance if he had followed the example of Elagabalus. The priest-emperor from Emesa made the mistake of confronting the Romans with a local cult that proved incompatible with their traditional religion. As we have seen, it was not the claim of a personal god which made Elagabalus exceptional, but the exotic, ‘un-Roman’ nature of the deity to whom he had connected his fate, as well as the undiplomatic way in which he tried to force his divine champion upon the Romans. The mistake was fatal. Not even the protection of Elagabal proved sufficient to save Elagabalus from his enemies. As it turned out, the ‘invincible priest-emperor’ was not so invincible after all.