Signals, Colors, and Cuckolds: Reading Roman Comic Art

by Mary Harrsch © 2025

I found another interesting theatrical scene found in either Herculaneum or Pompeii and reproduced by Henri Roux Ainé in a copper engraving and reproduced in Barré’s 1839 text. Barré interprets it as a comedic slave holding his left hand in a signal indicating a cuckolded husband. On the right we see an embarrassed young woman and an older woman that Barré describes as wearing a red headdress and all red clothing that would normally signal to the audience she was, "a mother of a courtesan or an old woman who traffics in the dishonor of young girls," what we would call in modern terms, a Madame, who secures men for young women working as prostitutes. However, she looks equally grief-stricken at the gesture indicating she is either a matronly companion or mother of the younger woman. Barré uses this image to decry "the comic theater of the ancients in terms of decency, nobility, and dignity."

A comedic scene in which a slave on the left flashes a hand signal meaning a cuckolded husband to a young woman on the right accompanied by an older matron. This is an 1839 print of a copper engraving by Henri Roux Ainé of a fresco found in either Herculaneum or Pompeii published in a book authored by Louis Barré.

 Barré’s interpretation of the matronly figure is really just based on her red attire. The girl is wearing nothing immodest and her attire is described as a blue undergarment with a white overgarment. I assume he identifies the slave because of the comic mask and the fact that he wears a short, striped yellow tunic and cloak.

 In Roman comedy, masks and short tunics in yellow, brown, and other “common” hues were associated with low status.  Maidens were often depicted in delicate colors such as white and blue which Barré tells us in his translated text is the case here. A lena or procuress was usually depicted as an older woman in gaudy or bright colors, sometimes red as in this case that is meant to signal vulgarity on stage. However, the facial expressions of both the younger woman and the matronly woman appear to be embarrassment and I don’t think that would be the case if the older woman was a procuress even though Barré’s interpretation was based upon known ancient theatrical costumes.

 Red and especially crimson was produced with a luxury dye, that under normal circumstances connoted wealth. However, it was also associated with sensuality and women of questionable reputation when used in theatrical or satirical contexts. Wall paintings often transposed these stage conventions, but with artistic license. The frescoes in domestic settings weren’t exact reproductions of stage costumes — instead, they gave viewers enough hints (mask, garment length, bright vs. modest colors) to trigger recognition of stock types.

While it’s true that red was a lena/procuress signal on stage, we can’t be sure the painter meant the matronly figure here to be read that way in a domestic setting where these scenes were often reproduced. Barré (and many 19th-century antiquarians) tended to project moral lessons, assuming that color always mapped one-to-one with “vice” or “virtue.” Modern scholarship treats such identifications with caution — the same color could signal different things depending on context. If you enjoyed this post, never miss out on future posts by following me by email!

Decoding a 2,000-Year-Old Theatrical Mystery from Herculaneum or Pompeii

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

I was searching through an 1839 publication of frescos found in Pompeii and Herculaneum and came upon this print made from copper engravings produced by 19th century artist Henri Roux the Elder. I was impressed by the realism of their poignant facial expressions so I translated the related text by Louis Barré to try to gain more insight into the scene portrayed and the structure in which the scene was painted. Unfortunately, there was no clue provided as to where in Pompeii or Herculaneum this painting was found. I did a keyword search for the word "tragic" and found no indications this fresco was represented in the corpus of either pompeiiinpictures.com or herculaneuminpictures.com.

Print from a copper engraving by Henri Roux the Elder of a fresco found in either Herculaneum or Pompeii of characters in a tragic play included in an 1839 text by Louis Barré

Barré mentioned the scene could represent mourners in a funeral procession or the chorus of a tragic play. He then mentions some early 19th century scholars thought the figure on the left represented a hero with disheveled hair and the central figure could be Telemachus because his hands were covered by his draped cloak. Neither of these seemed plausible to me since all figures appeared to be female especially due to the length of their garments. I checked my memory with ClaudeAI:

"In both Greek and Roman theater and art, male characters - even when portraying tragic heroes or kings - typically wore shorter garments that fell somewhere between the knee and mid-calf. The chiton or tunic worn by men was distinctly shorter than women's clothing.

"The long, floor-length robes we see on all three figures here are characteristic of female dress. Women's clothing (the peplos, chiton, or stola) was designed to reach the ankles and often had the elaborate draping we see in this fresco. Even high-status male characters like kings would not typically be depicted in such long, flowing garments."

I also pointed out the center figure appears to be wearing a sakkos, a common head covering for women in ancient Greek and Roman art - a soft cap or hood that covered the hair and often tied under the chin or at the back of the neck.

ClaudeAI agreed saying: "The way the fabric drapes around the center figure's head and face, creating that enveloping hood-like effect, is very characteristic of how the sakkos was typically depicted in ancient art. This head covering was particularly associated with older women, married women, and those in domestic or religious roles - exactly the kind of character you've identified as the nurse figure.

"This detail further supports your interpretation of this figure as the nurse or old woman character type from tragic drama. The sakkos would have been an immediately recognizable visual cue to ancient audiences about this character's identity and function in the scene - the wise, older female attendant or confidante to the tragic heroine.

"It's exactly the kind of costume detail that ancient artists used to help viewers instantly "read" the dramatic roles and relationships in a scene.

"This costume evidence strongly supports your reading of these as female figures - the tragic queen/princess (Jocasta), the old woman/nurse, and the female servant or attendant. Male servants or messengers in tragic drama would also have worn shorter garments.

"The only exception might have been certain priests or very elderly, venerable male characters who sometimes wore longer robes, but the body language, facial features, and overall presentation of these figures all suggest women rather than men."

I had read old nurses were a common character in Greco-Roman plays. I also thought the larger size of the character on the left could indicate a person of higher status such as a queen or princess. The smaller figure to the far right was probably a royal attendant.

I checked my theory with ClaudeAI and it said my interpretation sounded very compelling and aligned well with the conventions of ancient tragic theater.

"The old woman (or nurse) was indeed a standard character type in tragic drama, often serving as a confidante, messenger, or voice of wisdom. These characters frequently wore distinctive masks and would be positioned as intermediaries between the main tragic figures and the chorus or audience. The central figure's posture and drapery do suggest an older, more matronly character."

Your reading of the left figure as a tragic heroine makes perfect sense - the dramatic pose, flowing hair, and larger scale would be typical of a principal tragic character. The disheveled hair that the original text mentions could indicate she's in the midst of her tragic crisis - perhaps like Medea in her fury, Cassandra in prophetic madness, or Electra in grief.

The third figure as a mourning servant or attendant is a perceptive observation. The smaller scale and more subdued posture would fit a supporting character, and servants/attendants were common in tragic plays to witness and respond to the main characters' suffering. The positioning suggests deference to the heroic figure.

This grouping - tragic heroine, wise old woman/nurse, and faithful servant - would represent a classic tragic tableau, showing the heroine surrounded by the typical supporting figures who would help drive the narrative forward through their reactions, advice, and lamentations. The hierarchical sizing emphasizes the dramatic importance of each role."

I then expressed my opinion that the tableau could represent Oedipus' mother learning her husband/son's true identity and asked if the Oedipus play was popular during the 1st century CE.

"The Oedipus story, particularly focusing on Jocasta's discovery of the horrific truth, would make perfect sense for this tableau. The tragic heroine (Jocasta) realizing she has married her own son, with the old woman/nurse who might have been present at Oedipus's birth and abandonment, and a faithful servant witnessing the royal family's destruction - this would be an intensely dramatic moment perfectly suited to tragic theater.

"Regarding the play's popularity in the 1st century CE - absolutely! The Oedipus story remained one of the most performed and referenced tragedies throughout the Roman period. While Sophocles' original "Oedipus Rex" was from the 5th century BCE, Roman playwrights like Seneca wrote their own versions (Seneca's "Oedipus" dates to around 40-65 CE, right in line with your Herculaneum [or Pompeii] fresco's dating).

"Roman audiences were particularly drawn to the psychological horror and family dysfunction elements of the story. The theme of fate versus free will, the investigation/detective elements, and the spectacular tragic reversal made it enduringly popular. Roman tragic actors were known for their intense, emotional performances of such scenes.

"The moment of Jocasta's realization - that moment of anagnorisis or recognition - would have been one of the most powerful and memorable scenes in ancient theater, making it a natural choice for artistic representation."

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Dense Worlds, Fragile Lives: Comparing Population, Diet, and Disease in the Maya Lowlands versus the Roman Heartland

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

This morning I was astounded when I read this news release by Archaeology Magazine saying new LiDAR studies reveal an estimated 16 million Maya may have occupied 36,700 square miles of the Maya Lowlands—an area that comprises parts of Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize—during the Late Classic period (600–900 CE).

https://archaeology.org/news/2025/08/11/new-research-suggests-maya-population-may-have-topped-16-million/

In my paper, "Blood and Ash: Human sacrifice as a response to ecological catastrophe in the ancient Americas" I had compared juvenile mortality of Rome and the Maya then discussed sanitation issues and water management strategies of the two cultures to account for the difference between Rome's juvenile mortality of 30-35% and the Maya's at 35-50%. But, I did not explore differences in population density.

The central plaza of Teotihuacan on the left and Pompeii's forum on the right.
Extreme Densities, Different Worlds

Teotihuacan image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor MikHeil. Pompeii forum image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor Commonists.

So, I asked ChatGPT to calculate the population density of 36,700 square miles of the Roman Empire using the city of Rome as the center. It found the Maya may have supported roughly six times the population of the Roman heartland—approximately 16 million versus 2.5 million. Despite Roman juvenile mortality being roughly 15% lower, the Maya’s ability to maintain relatively low mortality is remarkable given their extreme population density.

With ChatGPT's help I revisited the differences in juvenile mortality as revealed in indicators such as differences in trade networks, presence of epidemic pathogens and agricultural practices and diet:

Comparative Schematic: Maya Lowlands vs. Roman Heartland (~36,700 sq miles)

Feature	Maya Lowlands	Roman Heartland (~108 mi radius around Rome)	Notes / Impact
Population	~16,000,000	~2,500,000	Maya ~6× higher within same area
Population Density	~436 people/sq mile	~68 people/sq mile	Reflects intensive local agriculture + settlement clustering vs. more extensive Roman land use
Agricultural Productivity / Diet	Intensive maize-bean-squash polyculture; under ecological stress, supplemented with ramón nuts, cassava (manioc), Amaranthus cruentus (amaranth)	Extensive grain and pastoral farming; heavily reliant on imported wheat from Egypt, North Africa, and Sicily	Maya could sustain high density locally; Roman density dependent on long-distance supply chains; diet quality declined under droughts for Maya
Settlement Pattern	Core-periphery structure with dispersed compounds; elite separation	Urban centers (Rome) with dense insulae, surrounding villas and farmland	Stratification moderates mortality but doesn’t drive density
Sanitation / Water Management	Some elite cisterns with filtered water; generally minimal for non-elite populations	Aqueducts, sewers, public baths	Romans had systematic infrastructure reducing waterborne disease risk; Maya had localized mitigation but not widespread
Pathogen Exposure	Low; geographic isolation and limited trade networks minimized introduction of epidemic diseases	High; extensive long-distance trade (as far as China) introduced epidemic pathogens	Isolation helped Maya maintain dense populations with moderate mortality
Mortality (Juvenile/Infant)	35–50%	~30–35%	Despite lack of Roman-style infrastructure, isolation and localized water/nutrition strategies moderated mortality
Ecological Stress	Megadroughts, volcanic impact; diet deterioration under stress	Generally stable; some localized droughts or floods	Maya droughts periodically increased mortality and reduced diet quality

Despite comparable local population densities, the Maya Lowlands and the Roman heartland differed dramatically in both ecology and diet. Within a 36,700 sq mile area, the Maya may have supported roughly six times the population of the Roman heartland—approximately 16 million versus 2.5 million. This high Maya density was made possible by intensive agricultural practices, including terracing, raised fields, and maize-bean-squash polyculture, which produced a high-calorie, protein-adequate diet. In contrast, Roman populations relied heavily on cereal grains and, critically, on large-scale imports of wheat from Egypt, North Africa, and Sicily, leaving them vulnerable to supply disruptions.

Under ecological stress such as megadroughts or soil depletion, Maya diets deteriorated over time as they substituted drought-resistant but nutritionally inferior foods like ramón nuts, cassava (manioc), and Amaranthus cruentus (amaranth) for maize, resulting in lower protein intake, fewer essential amino acids, and reduced caloric density. 

Settlement patterns also played a role in moderating disease exposure: Maya cities featured core-periphery arrangements with dispersed residential compounds, while Roman urban centers had dense insulae and surrounding villas. 

Critically, the Maya were relatively isolated from Old World pathogens due to limited trade networks, whereas Rome’s far-reaching commerce—even extending as far as China—regularly introduced epidemic pathogens. 

Together, these factors help explain how the Maya sustained extreme local density with juvenile mortality estimated between 35–50%, only about 15% higher than the Roman heartland, despite lacking aqueducts and large-scale sanitation systems.

This comparison highlights how population density, trade networks, and ecological stress shaped ancient societies in ways that continue to inform our understanding of population resilience and vulnerability today

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Blood and Ash:Ecological Collapse and the Rise of Human Sacrifice in the Ancient Americas

by Mary Harrsch © 2025

I've just uploaded the final version of my paper: Blood and Ash:Ecological Collapse and the Rise of Human Sacrifice in the Ancient Americas. It has 127 illustrations and I have cited 431 sources. In it I compare the response to ecological catastrophes of cultures in ancient America with those of Late Antique Rome under the reign of Justinian. I also compare their different agricultural strategies, sanitation systems, treatment of refugee populations, and contributors to infant mortality.

AI-generated image of what an Aztec priest of Huitzilopochtli may have looked like to sacrificial victims being led to Templo Mayor in Tenochtitlan based on a mythological painting of the god. Produced with Adobe Firefly by the author.

You can read it here:

https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.15882288

Here's the abstract:

This multidisciplinary study investigates the rise of human sacrifice in ancient Mesoamerica as part of a broader transformation in cosmological ideology shaped by ecological upheaval and political centralization. Drawing on archaeological, iconographic, isotopic, and ethnohistorical evidence, the paper traces the intensification of ritual violence from the resettlement of Xitle eruption refugees in the southern Basin of Mexico to the aftermath of the Ilopango eruption (ca. 536 CE) and into the militarized expansions of the Late Postclassic period. Climate shocks, resource scarcity, and elite competition reconfigured religious worldviews and leadership strategies, fueling increasingly violent expressions of sacred power.

The analysis contrasts divergent responses to catastrophe: while Late Antique Roman authorities under Justinian issued edicts to stabilize trade, secure truces, and implement public health measures following the volcanic winter triggered by eruptions at Ilopango and Iceland, Mesoamerican elites reasserted sacred authority through spectacular displays of ritual violence, including heart extractions and elite burials accompanied by human attendants.

Drawing on data from sites including Chaco Canyon, Cahokia, Tula, and Tenochtitlan, the study explores how migration, drought, and collapsing trade networks catalyzed new warrior ideologies and sacrificial practices. Particular attention is given to the possibility that displaced elites from Mississippian centers contributed to the Mexica’s (Aztecs’) disciplined martial ethos via convergence zones such as Chicomoztoc. These systems fused divine kingship with ritualized violence, transforming sacrifice into a tool of ecological negotiation and political legitimation.

It argues that cycles of drought, migration, and trade collapse fostered militarized religious orders and predatory tribute systems, with ideological rigidity and elite self-preservation ultimately fracturing indigenous societies before Spanish contact.

Acknowledgment of AI Assistance

Portions of this paper were supported by AI tools: OpenAI's ChatGPT 4o assisted with trajectory refinement, prose editing, and reference formatting; Anthropic’s Claude 3.5 Sonnet contributed to argument structure; and DeepSeek-V3 aided in source identification and recommendations. All source analysis, interpretive framing, and final editorial decisions were made by the author. AI-generated images were created using Adobe Firefly (v1.0), based on prompts developed solely by the author and validated using archaeological and historical records.

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From Sacred to Strategic—How Constantine Repurposed Pagan Temple Wealth

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

I inadvertently began work on another article. I've been reading novels in the series The Sertorius Scrolls by Victor B Davis II and I've reached book 5, "Sulla's Fist", which is focused on The Social War between Rome and her Italian allies in the 1st century BCE. I knew Rome granted citizenship to almost everyone south of the Po river after this conflict but wondered why Rome was so fiercely against this request. I thought it might have to do with the grain dole and indirectly it did. Roman aristocrats insisted granting citizenship to its Italian allies would trigger a mass migration to Rome so they could qualify for the grain dole. In actuality though, this "fear" was a distraction from the real reason. The Roman elite in Rome did not want to dilute their power and influence by extending admittance to the Cursus Honorum to provincial elites.

Anyway, in the course of my research on the topic with ChatGPT I learned that the grain dole was later used by Constantine in the 4th century to divert power and resources away from Rome to his new capital at Constantinople along with his plunder of the treasures stored in pagan temples. Here's a sidebar that will be included in my new article. To illustrate it I created an image of a plundered statue being hauled into the Forum of Constantine while a Byzantine-era Roman soldier directs the delivery in Constantinople.

A statue plundered from a pagan temple is hauled into the Forum of Constantine under the watch of a Roman soldier in 4th-century Constantinople. Reused as political trophies, such statues symbolized the empire’s shift in power and illusion of faith—stripped of their sacred roles and repurposed to glorify the new "Christian" capital. Image produced with Adobe Firefly and Photoshop Generative Fill by the author.

I was able to develop the basic image with Adobe Firefly but ended up resorting to Photoshop's generative fill to improve the historical accuracy based on ChatGPT's analysis of the image. The AI pointed out the wagon driver's red tunic was too short for the 4th century, the Triumphal Arch too weathered, the statue needed restraints to hold it on the wagon, and I needed a porphyry column to represent Constantine's column in the center of the space.

I tried to make these corrections in the prompt but could not get the image to look appropriate. So, I opened the image in Photoshop and used its generative fill feature to change the length of the wagon driver's tunic, "repair" the entrance columns to the triumphal arch so it looked newer and remove trees that could be seen through the arch and place a red column in the center distance. I also had to remove some odd bits and create a second leg for the wagon driver. I had told the AI the wagon driver was wearing brown leather boots so I double checked that by the 4th century closed leather boots had come into use, especially in the east due to proximity to the eastern desert tribes.

Here is my sidebar article:

Constantine’s economic transformation of the empire relied not only on diverting grain and undermining the Roman aristocracy, but also on systematically extracting and repurposing the wealth of pagan temples. These institutions, often centuries old, held vast deposits of gold and silver, controlled extensive landholdings, and served as local financial centers in cities across the empire. By embracing Christianity, Constantine gained ideological cover to confiscate these assets—not as wanton destruction, but as a kind of moral purification. In practice, however, it was a calculated transfer of resources from traditional religious elites to the imperial court and church (Curran, 2000; MacMullen, 1984).

Rather than smashing pagan icons in a wave of destruction, Constantine reused them with deliberate symbolism. Throughout Constantinople, temples were quarried for building materials, and pagan statues were installed in prominent public spaces. The clearest example is the Forum of Constantine, completed around 330 CE. This ceremonial center was ringed with colossal statues taken from temples across the Mediterranean world—Athens, Ephesus, Aphrodisias, and Baalbek (Elsner, 1998; Mango, 1990). These were not subtle appropriations: gods once venerated in their original sanctuaries now stood as decorative trophies in the emperor’s new city.

One striking example is the statue of Athena Promachos, likely brought from Athens or a provincial temple and installed in the Forum or palace precinct. Stripped of her sacred context, the goddess no longer symbolized civic protection, but imperial domination—her presence a demonstration that the old gods now served the emperor's aesthetic and ideological aims. According to Eusebius, Constantine's agents “collected innumerable works of art from every province” and displayed them in Constantinople not for worship, but to glorify the imperial city (Life of Constantine 3.54–55; Eusebius, trans. Cameron & Hall, 1999).

At the same time, the wealth hidden behind these statues—the temple treasuries—was funneled into building programs and Christian patronage. The Lateran Basilica in Rome, the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople, and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem were all funded, at least in part, by redirected temple resources (Rousseau, 2012; Curran, 2000). Some confiscated lands were redistributed to imperial loyalists, ensuring that Constantine’s economic restructuring also reshaped the political landscape (MacMullen, 1984).

What emerges is not a portrait of religious zealotry but of imperial opportunism. Constantine did not destroy paganism outright—he gutted its infrastructure and appropriated its symbols. The gods still stood, but now as mute witnesses to their own defeat.

Echoes in the Present

Constantine’s strategy of cloaking resource seizure and institutional overhaul in the language of moral renewal has not been lost to antiquity. Even in the 21st century, some political leaders now appear to be taking a page from his playbook—invoking divine sanction, cultural identity, or national morality to justify the extraction of wealth, the dismantling of established institutions, and the reallocation of symbolic capital. The result, now as then, is a recoding of power: not through open destruction, but through appropriation and recontextualization.

Bibliography

Curran, J. (2000). Pagan City and Christian Capital: Rome in the Fourth Century. Oxford University Press.

Elsner, J. (1998). Imperial Rome and Christian Triumph: The Art of the Roman Empire AD 100–450. Oxford University Press.

Eusebius of Caesarea. (1999). Life of Constantine (A. Cameron & S. G. Hall, Trans.). Oxford University Press. (Original work written ca. 337 CE)

MacMullen, R. (1984). Christianizing the Roman Empire (A.D. 100–400). Yale University Press.

Mango, C. (1990). Byzantium: The Empire of New Rome. Charles Scribner’s Sons.

Rousseau, P. (2012). The Early Christian Centuries. Longman.

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