The usurpation of Carausius in the last quarter of the third century is a popular subject at the moment – the island of Britain (and admittedly some of northern Gaul) declaring itself independent of a Continent-spanning superstate is rather topical… However, much less well known is that after the failure of that Imperium Britanniarum, there was seemingly a second man to rule in Britain with the name Carausius. This ‘Carausius II’ has raised some questions about the continued popularity of the original Carausius in Britain, but more importantly about the source material (or lack thereof) and how its interpretation by modern academics could either have created a non-existent Caesar or dismissed a regional Roman ruler.
Speculation on the identity and even existence of this ‘Carausius II’ has changed greatly since the first coin attributed to him was published on in 1887. Numismatic investigation – for that is all there is to prove his existence – has gradually narrowed down the dating of his imitation coins and therefore likely his own potential dating, but has left his actual existence still somewhat up in the air.
Before going into specifics about some of the coins, there is one immediate piece of numismatic data to be extracted about ‘Carausius II’ is one of geography. Of the 20 coins linked to ‘Carausius II’ to be discovered, none have been found outside Britain. This, along with his name, would seem to confine any activities of Carausius II to the island. Initially, these coin finds, and seemingly therefore Carausius II’s scope of influence, were limited to south-east Britain, centred on Rutupiae (Richborough). However, as time has progressed, the find sites of ‘Carausius II’ coins have spread further across the island, such as Silchester in Hampshire, possibly Oxfordshire, and in north Wales and York (Sutherland (1945), 126-127; Boon (1955); Boon in Casey and Reece (1988)). The latter two of these find sites would seem to correlate with the legionary bases at Deva (Chester) and Eboracum (York), which could imply that ‘Carausius II’ was able to ‘rule’ long enough to distribute coins to the British garrisons. Using that to suggest that he received wide-ranging recognition from the British legions is to go beyond the admittedly meagre source material.
The earliest ‘Carausius II’ coin find came from Rutupiae (Richborough), and being a copy of a ‘Emperor on galley’ FEL TEMP REPARATIO type from c.348-350 (Evans (1887)), it would be classed as a less frequent version of ‘Carausius II’ coins as more were found. While the style and type were identified as being from the 350s, Evans (1887), 195 suggested the ‘Carausius II’ overstrike was much later than the original issue of the coin. This would not be completely out of the question as Constantinian coins remained in circulation long after the death of the dynasty, even on into the sixth and seventh centuries. Furthermore, a gravestone at Penmachno in Caernarvonshire containing the name ‘Carausius’ was dated as ‘post-Roman’ (IBS 20). Seeming similarities between this inscription and the first ‘Carausius II’ coin, Evans (1887) 200-202 posited a similar date for the inscription and the overstriking.
This therefore saw to the initial dating of the ‘reign’ of DOMINO CARAVƧIO CEƧ – ‘Lord Carausius Caesar’ – to the first decade of the fifth century, a period of considerable political upheaval in Britain, with succeeding usurpers claiming the imperial throne – Marcus, Gratianus and then Constantine III (406-411). It was further suggested, using the origin of the first coin and the presence of a “strange and unparalleled inscription” (Evans (1887), 191): DOMIN... CONTA... NO, that ‘Carausius II’ was a usurper/nominee during the absence of Constantine III from Britain in c.409, ruling from Richborough (Evans (1887), 208-213).
Straightaway, Carausius II being an imperial nominee would seem unlikely as Constantine III already had two sons, Constans and Julian, the former of which was associated with his rule as Caesar and later Augustus.
“the memory of the brave Carausius who first raised Britain to a position of naval supremacy, may influence to the choice of this obscure Caesar at the moment when the Romano-British population was about to assert as it had never done before its independence of the Continental Empire” (Evans (1887), 211-212)
This proposal by Evans (1887) was accepted by Salisbury (1926) and Pearce (1928), but was questioned (not entirely successfully) by Anscombe (1927-1928). This growing challenge to Evans’ dating is perhaps shown in the composition of material presented by Mattingly (1933) pl. 18 and Pearce and Mattingly (1939) pl. XV (Sutherland (1945) 129 n.8)
However, it was not until 1945 that this early fifth century dating was decisively challenged. C.H.V. Sutherland presented an in-depth look at the growing corpus of ‘Carausius II’ coins, at the time 6 coins, listing numerous characteristics to be explored about these coins (Sutherland (1945), 127-129). Such a numismatic breakdown by certain characteristics – (i) metal, (ii) size, (iii) titles, (iv) proper name, (v) obverse type, (vi) reverse type, (vii) reverse legend, (viii) overstriking, (ix) provenance, (x) style – allowed for a more intricate look at these coins.
In terms of style, Sutherland noted an “underlying similarity” (Sutherland (1945), 128) in all the ‘Carausius II’ coins: the obverse busts are recognisably mid-fourth century (cf. Evans (1887) 191), with the reverse all FEL TEMP REPARATIO types (felicium temporum reparatio – ‘re-establishment of happy times’), and mostly the ‘Fallen Horseman’ subset, although the ‘Emperor on galley’ version is also represented. There is also an overstrike on a GLORIA EXERCITVS found in Silchester (Boon (1955)).
The Late Latin inscribed on these coins is full of “false declensions” (Sutherland (1945), 131; cf. Evans (1887), 201), such as DOMINO and CARAVƧIO, and local deviations: ‘H’ instead of ‘N’; a shallow ‘C’ looking more like ‘(’; ‘A’ looking more like ‘Λ’; ‘Ƨ’ instead of ‘S’, ‘V’ instead of ‘N’ and perhaps an ‘X’ connected to ‘N’ replacing ‘S’ - CONXTA[NTI]NO? This latter ‘X’ representing ‘S’ does appear in Late Romano-British inscriptions (IBS 128; some African and Italian inscriptions do this too), although this does not prove much about the date of the coins. There are also some missing ‘S’, ‘N’ and ‘A’, such as ‘CES’ instead of ‘CAES’ and ‘(ARVƧI’ instead of ‘(ARAVƧI’.
Such ‘mistakes’ might encourage the idea that these coins were copies made by barbarians with limited appreciation or understanding of Latin spelling and grammar. However, rather than being from a barbarian group operating or settled in Britain, these coins were likely made by Romano-Britons (cf. O’Neil (1940) 181; Evans (1887), 192), who incorporated their own local grammatical deviations. Romano-British origins of these coins removes the necessity of connecting their minting and by extension the ‘reign’ of any second Carausius to significant barbarian activity in Roman Britain – Constans’ British campaign in 343, Lupicinus’ British campaign in 360, the ‘Great Barbarian Conspiracy’ of 367-368, Stilicho’s Pictish War in c.398 or the increasing mess of Angles, Saxons and ‘tyrants’ in the early fifth century. That said, there is record of barbarians being settled in Britain, such as Vandals and Burgundians under the emperor Probus in c.277/278 (Zosimus I.68.3).
It might seem peculiar to suggest that these coins were Romano-British in origin when they sport mintmarks like TREV, referencing Trier in Gaul. But then there had technically not been any official Romano-British coins for a generation by c.350, with the closure of the London mint in c.325.
As hinted at with regard to local spelling deviations, the legends on both sides of the ‘Carausius II’ coins contain recognisable titles and names, although in largely unprecedented forms. While it is clearly a representation of the almost ubiquitous ‘D N’ (dominus noster ‘our Lord’), DOMINO as a standalone descriptor is exceptional. Only issues of Aurelian with DEO ET DOMINO (‘God and Lord’) are to be remotely equated, and even this is not really that similar.
‘CES’ is clearly a version of ‘CAES’, meaning Caesar, although it is not only lacking an ‘A’, it is different from the more usual forms of ‘NOB CAES’ or ‘NOB C’ – nobilitas Caesar: ‘noble Caesar’, a title reserved for a junior emperor in line to succeed the ruling Augustus/Augusti. It is this ‘CES’ title that is the root of the interpretations of this ‘Carausius II’ as being a junior emperor or claiming to be, as a usurper would be expected to take on the title of Augustus. Consequently, even before looking at the style and type of the coins, this claim to a title of Caesar disqualifies this coin from being from the period of the first Carausius (286-293), who was only ever an Augustus.
Building on Evans’ identification of the usage of FEL TEMP REPARATIO coins of the 350s as the basis of the ‘Carausius II’ coins, Sutherland supposed that the legends – CONTA, (OHTATI, (ONSTAN, (ONSTATI etc. – were garbled versions of ‘Constantius’ rather than ‘Constans’ or ‘Constantine’. While there was a Roman emperor Constantius in the first decades of the fifth century – Constantius III (421), Sutherland did not connect these coins to him. Rather he looked to overturn Evans’ interpretation of these overstrikes and imitations as being created decades after the original FEL TEMP REPARATIO coins were minted, not only identifying the original coins as being of Constantius II (337-361), but also suggesting that the imitations, and therefore Carausius II himself, were also from that reign (cf. Stevens (1956)).
Sutherland considered that the ‘Carausius II’ coins were issued by an actual ruler, who was presenting himself as a junior emperor and appealing either to Constantius or local Constantinian support by depicting the legitimate emperor on his coins.
“The temporary emergence of these petty rulers might be attributed to the period of (or just after) the usurpation of Magnentius, when Constantius’s grip on Britain must have been weakened. Here was the opportunity for partial autonomy open to those who had enough enterprise to grasp it; and if this Carausius was the grandson of the third-century emperor, he may well have inherited his grandfather's initiative.” (Sutherland (1945), 132)
This idea that it was the usurpation of Magnentius that prompted the elevation of ‘Carausius II’ raises more than one possibility. Could it have taken place during the usurpation of Magnentius or in the heavy-handed aftermath? And even this seemingly straightforward bisecting of possibilities is not completely clear.
Placing a Carausian revolt during the usurpation of Magnentius raises the question of why then? This might seem a peculiar query. The very circumstances that initiated the Magnentian revolt, overthrowing a Constantinian emperor in Constans (who had campaigned in Britain, albeit briefly), will not have disappeared overnight. And with Magnentius’ attention drawn to events on the Continent, any British discontent will have had the opportunity to burst into the open. In such circumstances, the ‘Carausius II’ coins hosting the visage and name (however messily) of Constantius would seem an attempt to claim some level of Constantinian legitimacy and/or garner some support from the legitimate emperor. An important aspect to such a supposition is that this ‘Carausius II’ seems to have only claimed the title of Caesar – junior emperor, rather than positioning himself as Augustus, which would have not only been in opposition to Magnentius but also to Constantius II as well. That said, Constantius II was not averse to elevating a Caesar to act as a local figurehead for his regime, doing so with both Constantius Gallus in the east (351-354) and then Julian in Gaul (355-360).
However, the question over the exact nature of any ‘Carausius II’ revolt during the usurpation of Magnentius stems from another peculiar occurrence in the early 350s – the usurpation of Vetranio in 350 (Crawford (2016), 72-77). While the likelihood is that this was just another regional commander taking advantage of the political turmoil surrounding the usurpation of Magnentius, some of its circumstances – the presence by his side of Constantina, Constantius II’s sister, and bloodless rapidity of his capitulation in the face of Constantius – has led to the suggestion that the whole episode of Vetranio’s usurpation was a revolt in favour of Constantius, rather than against him. The idea of such a ‘loyalist usurpation’ was that Constantina (with or without the knowledge of her brother) urged a loyal Constantinian general to take up the imperial title in order to deny Magnentius entry into the Balkans while Constantius was fully deployed against the Persians.
Stevens (1956), 346 suggests that if such an orchestrated ‘loyalist usurpation’ could happen in the Balkans, it could happen in Britain. This would posit ‘Carausius II’ as a nominee of Constantius II, given the task of detaching Britain from the control of Magnentius or at least distracting some of the usurper’s Gallic forces.
A potential similarity between these two regional revolts, as with how his coins present ‘Carausius II’ as a Caesar, Vetranio’s initial coins also seem to have presented him with eh title of Caesar, even thought he quickly elevated himself to Augustus. This early Vetranio coin seems to be an alteration of a Gallus coin (Kent (1957), 83), perhaps also showing a similar lack of initial numismatic infrastructure and clear propagandist message.
Even with Constantius’ willingness to appoint Caesares, it seems much more likely that any ‘Carausius II’ revolt was merely another attempt by a local official to achieve a position of power in the face of central distraction. In such a light, Carausius II calling himself dominus and Caesar is a claim to be a colleague of Constantius II, rather than any official position conferred by the emperor.
On top of the stretch in credulity that is a ‘loyalist usurpation’, a significant problem for the positioning of ‘Carausius II’ as a usurper, loyalist or otherwise, against Magnentius is one of dating (cf. Casey (1994), 160).
In overturning the early fifth century dating of ‘Carausius II’ by Evans (1887), Sutherland (1945) placed ‘Carausius II’ in c.350-360. The idea was that the FEL TEMP REPARATIO type was not earlier than 348 (cf. Mattingly (1933)) and that it is unlikely that so many Constantius coins would be minted during Constans’ reign as they did not get on. Stevens (1956) went a little further in suggesting that the presence of a ‘Carausius II’ coin in the Freckenham Hoard, dated to c.355 by Mattingly (1953), presented a terminus ante quem of c.355, placing ‘Carausius II’ in the first half of the 350s.
For over a decade, Sutherland’s interpretations were largely followed, with the only developments being new finds extended the numismatic reach of ‘Carausius II’ beyond Richborough into Oxfordshire and Hampshire (Boon (1955)). However, a significant (and so far lasting) adjustment to the reception of ‘Carausius II’ came with the study in Kent (1957). In a technical review of the material and by looking in more depth at their size and the spread of the reverse type, he narrowed down the dating of the ‘Carausius II’ issues.
As all of the ‘Carausius II’ coins found so far are bronze, this would appear to be an avenue to provide much information about Carausius II, unless it is assumed that the lack of gold coins traced to Carausius II undermines his being an official emperor and indeed his very existence. However, Kent (1957) focused on how all of the Carausius II coins but one were the smaller AE3 size (the other is a slightly larger AE2). This overwhelming predominance of AE3 coins in the ‘Carausius II’ corpus can help date the issues imitated in their creation. The AE3 gradually replaced the AE2 in the western provinces after Constantius II’s victory over Magnentius in the summer of 353. Indeed, the preponderance of AE2 Gallus coins in Gaul suggests they were minted for most of the period between the Constantian reclamation of Gaul in mid-353 and the execution of Gallus in the winter of 354.
The predominance of the ‘Fallen Horseman’ FEL TEMP REPARATIO coin also did not occur until after the reduction of the module from AE2 to AE3. So ‘Fallen Horseman’ copies cannot have been struck before the beginning of 354 as “forgers will not have imitated on a vast scale a prototype which, as the hoard evidence shows, they can scarcely have seen” (Kent (1957), 81). As the ‘Carausius II’ FEL TEMP REPARATIO issues conform to a type not minted before 354, they too are of such a period of Constantius II’s undisputed reign (Kent (1957), 83). And as the FEL TEMP REPARATIO type ceased production by 358, this gives a date range of 354-358 for the coins imitated in the ‘Carausius II’ issues.
This redating to 354-358 means that “there is no context here for petty insular rulers sharing domain with the legitimate emperor, nor does the date allow credence to Stevens's hypothesis of a nominee created to detach Britain from Magnentius” (Casey (1994), 160). Indeed, this would seem a period not connected to any known revolt in Britain as Constantius II had unified the empire under his rule.
Kent (1957) ‘solved’ this conundrum with the simple declaration that it is most unlikely that an actual ruler called ‘Carausius II’ ever existed. And this declaration, along with Kent’s excellent survey of the coins, became the cornerstones of academic opinion on ‘Carausius II’ – these coins were an interesting aberration, datable to a small period of time in the mid-350s, but did not prove the existence of a second Carausian emperor in Britain. For a generation, this remained the predominant view, with the only additions to the ‘Carausius II’ record being further finds in Wales and York (Boon in Casey and Reece (1988)) expanding the geographic spread of these coins, rather than the political reach of an emperor.
But if ‘Carausius II’ did not exist then why were there coins inscribed with versions of the name ‘Carausius’ created in the period 354-358? Kent (1957), 82-83 contends that these imitations were merely referencing the original usurper Carausius, 60 years after his death, in examples of numismatic vandalism. A similar practice can be seen with ‘William Shakespeare’ being inscribed on a coin of George III in 1796-1797.
However, there has been some move by historians to restore Carausius II as a real person who led a rebellion in Britain (Thompson (1990)). Such a reversal of Kent (1957) has to overcome the silence of the sources. Ammianus Marcellinus gives Britain significant coverage during this period, with no mention of revolt, while Julian’s panegyric of Constantius II is also silent over any military trouble on the island. It has been suggested that due to the brevity of several fourth century sources, like Aurelius Victor and Eutropius, “it is no serious objection that we lack literary confirmation” (Stevens (1956), 346). The silence from Julian’s panegyrics is not decisive as a ‘praise speech’ would not record a failure in Britain. The failure of Ammianus to report a second ‘Carausian’ revolt in Britain is perhaps a bit more difficult to shrug off, but while he does provide some detail on Britain post-Magnentius, the peripheral position of the island could restrict the flow of information and Ammianus’ classicising style could mean he does record everything,
Furthermore, just because there is no overt record of revolt in Britain does not mean that there is not record of events which could have sparked one. And in the months after the final defeat of Magnentius, there was some political upheaval in Britain… Built upon his pathological hatred of dissent and fiery temper (Ammianus XIV.5.4), Constantius launched a series of treason trials in the western provinces, banishing or executing any official suspected of connivance with Magnentius. In the form of the notarius, Paul ‘the Chain’ (this nickname likely came from either his proclivity for chaining up the accused or his ability in weaving an inescapable web of intrigue), Constantius found the perfect instrument to carry out what has been considered a witch hunt.
And in 353, Paul was sent to Britain to investigate the island’s support of Magnentius. He was so vociferous in his investigations that it may have quickly descended into a kangaroo court, with even unfounded accusations enough for conviction. Such repeated injustice drew the intervention of the British governor, Martinus, who demanded Paul release the innocent men he had incarcerated. Rather than comply, Paul turned on Martinus, threatening him with humiliation and even execution. Fearing for his life, Martinus drew his sword and attacked Paul. And when that failed, the governor committed suicide. Such a personal attack on Paul and Martinus’ suicide made the governor and his allies seem guilty, strengthening the hand of ‘the Chain’ in rooting out ‘enemies’ of Constantius.
Ammianus XIV.5 does suggest parts of the British military ‘conspired’ with Magnentius, which could be construed as Britain initially siding with Constantius against Magnentius, possibly in the form of Carausius II, a local commander, who was then betrayed and killed when the British military establishment thought to defect to Magnentius. In such a scenario, the British officers/tribunes targeted by Paul the Chain could have been behind the death of Carausius II. Indeed, the very dispatch of Paul could have been to investigate the fate of Carausius and other Constantian loyalists.
However, not only is this a significant reach beyond what Ammianus reports, the numismatic dating of ‘Carausius II’ coins to 354-358 nullifies the dispatching of Paul to Britain in c.353 as being a reaction to the presence of a second ‘Carausian’ revolt, even a loyalist one, on the island; but could Paul’s actions have been the catalyst of local revolt?
The torturing, exiling and murdering of innocents had driven a seemingly upright governor into personal rebellion and suicide, which in turn accelerated and expanded the treason trials. Such heavy-handed, imperially-sponsored terrorising of the British hierarchies would seem like a perfectly reasonable source of regional revolt under ‘Carausius II’. Could on-going local British discomfort with Constantius’ regime have led to a poor response to the raids of the Scots and Picts in 360, which required Julian Caesar to send his magister equitum Lupicinus to the island with an army?
Unfortunately, the gaps in the source record mean that the existence of ‘Carausius II’ remains unproven. There might be more technical information to be derived from a close study of the FEL TEMP REPARATIO coins and dies, but there is no other direct evidence for the existence of ‘Carausius II.’ Any evidence to be presented – spates of British political instability, inscriptions, shared names etc. – is all indirect and/or circumstantial.
Even if it is assumed that he was a real person, there are still so many questions that cannot be answered: when and where did he reign? How did he come to be Caesar? What connections did he have to the central government? What connections did he have to the previous Carausius? Did ‘Carausius II’ take his name from the previous usurper? Or could he have been an individual named for the usurper who just happened to reach a position of power (with his name aiding in any ‘selection process’ for a usurpation)? Was there even a familial connection?
This latter question was built upon by the mid-18th century antiquarians William Stukeley and John Kennedy. They saw a sketch of a silver coin of Carausius found in Silchester, they both read the reverse legend as ORIVNA, positing this as an important female character in the regime of the first Carausius. Kennedy (1751) considered this ‘Oriuna’ to be a guardian goddess of Carausius, while Stukeley (1752) considered her to be the wife of the British usurper.
Carausius having a wife, along with his own position in British folklore and mythology, provided an avenue of connection to ‘Carausius II’. In the guise of ‘Oriuna Wledic’, this ORIVNA was not only posited as the wife of Carausius, but also as the mother of his children. While there are rather spectacular inventions of connections to the Constantinian dynasty, the most important potential offspring for our purposes here is the suggestion that Carausius and ‘Oriuna’ had a son called ‘Genseris’, a name that has been linked to ‘Carausius II’.
Unfortunately, not only is this the similar kind of extrapolating from insufficient evidence that already cautioned against, the whole ‘Oriuna’ connection between Carausius and ‘Carausius II’ is based on an error by Kennedy and Stukeley. What they read as ORIVNA was actually FORTVNA with a faded ‘F’ (Piggot (1985); (1986); Manville (1990))…
Without further evidence, it is very difficult to place ‘Carausius II’ in any of the roles presented of him – an independent, secessionist ruler of south-east Britain, a colleague of the legitimate Augustus or a loyalist acting against Magnentius.
It may just be that the entire existence of ‘Carausius II’ is an incorrect extrapolation from a series of vandalised coins, from a period of political instability and anger, harkening back to a time when Britain ruled itself, rather than actually recording a second instance of Carausian usurpation.
Bibliography
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