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Commemorating Augustus

Commemorating Augustus

Category Archives: Anniversaries

Augustus is dead, long live Augustus!

19 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by weavingsandunpickings in Anniversaries, Augustus, Conference, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

So this is it – the day itself. It is exactly two thousand years to the day since Augustus died. And, as it happens, 2042 since he took up his first consulship as well.

That second anniversary in itself tells us quite a lot about the sort of man we are commemorating today, because it was not normal for consuls to take up their office in mid-August. Conventionally, consuls entered office on January 1st, and they were supposed to be over forty years old when they did so. Augustus took up his first consulship at the age of nineteen, after the two elected consuls had died in battle alongside him, and he had co-opted their legions, marched at their head to Rome and put himself forward for one of the vacant offices. It’s not that he took it by force. He was very careful to ensure that he was properly elected. But eight loyal legions hanging around the city are hardly conducive to free and fair elections. In fact, Suetonius claims that one of his centurions openly declared that his sword would make Augustus consul if the senate would not cooperate.

This is the man we are dealing with, then – audacious, opportunistic, unafraid to wield force and bend rules, and yet quite well aware of how crucial it was to position himself within a framework of legitimacy and consensus. The same boldness and astuteness can be traced throughout his career, even if he was able to dial back a little on the wielding of force once he had done it enough to wipe out his major political rivals. Sometimes things came close to falling apart for him. Pliny gives a great list of his mishaps and close shaves, several of which could very easily have ended in his death or political overthrow – and history would certainly be quite different if they had. But the risks don’t seem to have put him off, and as things turned out his gambles by and large paid off. He was able to die peacefully in his bed at the age of 75, surrounded by his family, widely believed by contemporary Romans to have saved the state from chaos and already regarded by many provincials as a god.

Whether his life and career can be judged ‘good’ or ‘bad’ overall depends entirely on perspective. In other words, good or bad for whom? A lot of the contemporary expressions of admiration seem to me to be very genuine, but it’s also clear that not everyone loved him, even in his own day. We can see that from the political opposition and conspiracies alone, and of course there must have been many others who resented or even despised him, but were powerless to do anything about it and whose voices are now lost to history.

This is why I called my project from the start ‘Commemorating Augustus’ rather than (for example) ‘Celebrating Augustus’. But the more I have read and thought about memory and commemoration, the more I have realised that even a ‘commemoration’ is not a neutral act. This is clear above all from the sort of people who don’t get commemorated. I noticed two years ago that people were hardly going crazy for the bimillennium of Caligula’s birth, and similarly the only people who ‘commemorated’ the 100th anniversary of Hitler’s birth on 20th April 1989 were a small number of neo-Nazis. In fact, the town council of Braunau in Austria, where he was born, marked the event by erecting a memorial to the victims of the Holocaust in front of the family house instead, with an inscription reading “For Peace, Freedom and Democracy. Never Again Fascism. Millions of Dead Remind [us]”. It is an exhortation to remember, then, but one which turns the act of commemoration around, and ensures that it reflects on Hitler only in an utterly negative manner.

Set against those sorts of examples, it becomes clear that if we in the twenty-first century are ‘Commemorating Augustus’ – and we are, on an epic scale – we are saying that he is worth remembering. It is an acknowledgement that he is important to us, and a tacit agreement that it is reasonable for him to be important. But I think I am comfortable with that – and it is engaging with his reception history in the course of this project which has really made me so. The Augustus we think we know is not a real historical individual from 2000 years ago, but an echo mediated to us through multiple centuries of re-imaginings, starting in his lifetime and continuing right up to the present day. This means that when we commemorate Augustus, we are actually commemorating an evolving tradition which has retained its currency for (over) 2000 years, and all the many people who have sustained and transformed it along the way. The tradition in its own right is fascinating and worth commemorating, and that’s what I hope we will be doing at the Commemorating Augustus conference all day today.

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When exactly did Augustus die?

12 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by weavingsandunpickings in Anniversaries, Augustus, Julius Caesar

≈ 6 Comments

Today marks exactly one week left until the big day – the bimillennium of Augustus’ death. One thing you may want to know as the day approaches is how we know when he died, and how the ancient evidence can be converted into modern terms.

The date of Augustus’ death is not controversial. Multiple ancient sources tell us when it happened, and the date is easily convertible into modern terms. Starting with the year, Velleius Paterculus (who was alive at the time), Suetonius and Cassius Dio all place it in the consulship of Sextus Pompeius and Sextus Ap(p)uleius. Using a table of Roman consuls with the years of their offices converted into modern terms such as this one, we can easily equate this to the year which we call AD 14.

As for the calendar date, it was known to the Romans as ante diem xiv kalendas septembres (fourteen days before the Kalends (or first) of September), which is what we call August 19th (a simple Roman to modern calendar date converter is here). This is also given by Suetonius, but we don’t have to rely on him alone, because as an important event in the history of the ruling imperial family, Augustus’ death was written up into the public calendars as soon as it happened. For example, the Fasti Antiates Ministrorum Domus Augustae (CIL 10.6638), a list of magistrates from the years AD 31-51 with a calendar underneath, marks that day with the words ‘Augustus excess(it)‘ (‘Augustus died’), while the Fasti Amiternini (Inscr.It. 13.2.186ff.), dating from the reign of Tiberius, labels it simply ‘dies tristissi(mus)‘ (‘a very sad day’).

I’ve managed to track down images of both of those calendars, so we can see the entries for ourselves. Note that, as it happens, both calendars preserve the months of July to December only, and both break off somewhere around the 17th to 20th of each month, so that 19th August in each case falls towards the ‘bottom’ of each calendar:

Fasti Antiates Ministrorum Domus Augustae bw photo main section Aug outlinedThe Fasti Antiates Ministrorum Domus Augustae, with August outlined in red. See below for a detailed view of that section.

Fasti Antiates Ministrorum Domus Augustae August close-upClose-up drawing of the month of August from the Fasti Antiates Ministrorum Domus Augustae. 19th August is the last but one entry from the bottom, labelled with a letter ‘G’ (showing its place in an 8-day market cycle) and followed by XIV, indicating ante diem xiv kalendas septembres. The calendar then informs the reader that this day is the VIN(alia), a festival of wine, and F(astus), meaning that business was allowed on that day, followed by the information ‘Augustus excess(it)‘ (‘Augustus died’).

Fasti Amiternini labelledThe Fasti Amiternini. See below for the section enclosed in the rectangle.

Fasti Amiternini dies tristissiClose-up of the enclosed section (in colour!). See bottom left for ante diem xiv kalendas septembres (again identifiable from the letter G followed by XIV and VIN). This time the day is labelled ‘dies tristissi(mus)’ (‘a very sad day’).

That’s pretty solid, then. Insofar as we can be sure of anything, we can be sure that Augustus died on August 19th, AD 14. But wait! There have been adjustments to the calendar between then and now, haven’t there? Did August 19th AD 14 take place at the same point in the solar year as August 19th 2014? Well, thankfully, dates from this period of history pretty much did.

Here’s how it goes. In the late Republican period, the Roman calendar consisted of 12 more-or-less lunar months of 28 or 29 days each. This, of course, wasn’t enough to supply the 365 days (roughly) needed to fill a solar year, so the priests were supposed to insert an extra (usually quite short) month known as an intercalary month as and when needed to make up the difference. By the time of Julius Caesar’s dictatorship in the 40s BC, though, it had become very apparent indeed that they were not doing it properly. December was happening in the early autumn – that sort of thing. So Julius Caesar appointed a panel of astronomers and mathematicians to sort the whole thing out. They came up with the system known as the Julian Calendar, consisting of 12 longer months plus a single leap day every four years, and this was introduced after an extra-specially long year of 445 days in 46 BC designed to get the calendar year back into sync with the solar year.

This isn’t quite the end of the story. A few decades later, it was recognised that the extra leap day had been being applied every three years, instead of every four as it should have been, and Augustus himself stepped in to correct this. Censorinus says that this happened in the 20th year of the Augustan era (i.e. 8 BC), and although there is some debate about exactly when the newly re-corrected system came into play, it had certainly happened before Augustus died in AD 14 – which for our purposes is good enough. It means that in AD 14, the calendar had very recently been reset to match up with the solar year, and leap years were being applied correctly. So the day in AD 14 which was called ante diem xiv kalendas septembres should fall at pretty much exactly the same point in the Earth’s revolution around the sun as the day which we call 19th August in 2014.

This means that the fact that the Julian-Augustan leap year system still wasn’t quite right, because it results in years an average of 365.25 days long, when the solar year is actually closer to 365.2425 days, and the fact that this also had to be corrected 15 centuries later by the introduction of the Gregorian calendar doesn’t really matter to us. Augustus’ death happened very shortly after a calendar reset, so it isn’t subject to the sort of calendar ‘drift’ which had built up by the 16th century, and affects dates in the period shortly before the reform. Phew!

Meanwhile, going back to Augustus, it happens that Suetonius also tells us the exact hour of his death:

He died in the same room as his father Octavius, in the consulship of two Sextuses, Pompeius and Appuleius, on the fourteenth day before the Kalends of September at the ninth hour, just thirty-five days before his seventy-sixth birthday.

I’m prepared to trust Suetonius on this detail, since he was working as an imperial secretary at the time when he wrote his Life of Augustus, and clearly had access to contemporary primary documents such as letters from the imperial archives, several of which he quotes in the work. So it’s perfectly likely that he had seen an official report stating the exact time of Augustus’ death.

Translating that time into modern terms, though, is complicated, because the Romans used a completely different system from us for numbering their hours. Rather than divide the full day into 24 hours, starting at midnight, the Romans didn’t really bother counting the hours of darkness. Instead, they divided the period of daylight into 12 equal hours, starting with the first hour in the morning, and ending with the twelfth hour which finished at sunset. So when Suetonius says that Augustus died ‘at the ninth hour’, he doesn’t mean anything like what we mean when we say ‘9 o’clock’. He means during the ninth hour of daylight between sunrise and sunset on August 19th, AD 14.

This seems like a really weird and complicated system to us, because we are used to all hours being exactly 60 minutes long. We also know that the length of time between sunrise and sunset varies according to the time of year, so when we look at the Roman system for measuring time, we find ourselves faced with a culture whose hours must have varied in length through the seasons like the folds of a concertina – twelve shorter hours in the winter, and twelve much longer ones in the summer. “Weird!” we think. “Didn’t they get hopelessly confused?”

Well, no, because to them it was a very simple and naturalistic system, which basically boiled down to using the same sundials all year round. This page explains pretty clearly how Greek and Roman sundials worked, and how they related to seasonal hours, while this page has some great pictures of the kind of sundial used. Known as a scaphe dial, a hemispherical sundial or hemicycle, the basic principle is that it allows you to divide your day into twelve equal segments, no matter how long the day itself is. So if you use this kind of sundial, the Roman twelve-hour ‘concertina’ system seems natural and easy. It is only when you try to convert their time into our rigid, unchanging hours that everything gets complicated.

If you want to make that conversion, what you have to do first is establish the time of sunrise and sunset for the place you are interested in at the correct time of the year. In our case, that’s Nola in Italy, and this page shows us the correct times for sunrise and sunset on 19th August: 06:16 and 19:54 respectively in local time. That means the total length of the day will be 13h 38m (or 818 minutes) in our terms. To work out the length of a Roman ‘hour’ on that day, we simply need to divide the full day into 12 equal segments, which gives 68.2 minutes.

The next stage is best conveyed by means of a diagram, which I have provided below. It shows the hours of daylight in Nola on 19th August divided into 12 equal segments, with the ninth segment coloured in red (click to enlarge):

At the ninth hourI have included the local time at which each Roman ‘hour’ begins and ends at the top of the diagram, so we can now see that the ninth hour in Nola on 19th August will begin at 15:21 local time, and end at 16:29. If you happen to be in Italy, then, that’s it – job done. You can mark the very moment of the bimillennium of Augustus’ death, as near as we are able, somewhere between 15:21 and 16:29 on 19th August.

If you live elsewhere, though, you may want to convert this to your own local time-zone, so that you can mark the exact time in your country when two thousand years have passed since the death of Augustus in Nola. Right now (and this will still be true on 19th August), Italy is on Central European Summer Time, which is equivalent to Greenwich Mean Time plus two hours. So in the UK, currently on British Summer Time (GMT+1), we are one hour behind Italy, which for us means the time of Augustus’ death equates to between 14:21 and 15:29 our time. If you want to convert it to your own local time-zone, you can do so here.

I will personally be running a conference at the exact moment of the bimillennium, and as we have such a packed programme I decided some time ago not to try to carve out a space within it at the moment of the ninth hour, but to get on with the papers – surely an appropriate tribute to Augustus in themselves! Besides, I have some special things up my sleeve for the evening of 19th August, when the conference delegates will be gathering together for a Commemorative Dinner in honour of our man. His passing will not go unacknowledged in Leeds.

But how about you? Do you have something planned for the very moment of his death? Comment to tell me about it if you do!

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Augustus’ final journey

19 Saturday Jul 2014

Posted by weavingsandunpickings in Anniversaries, Augustus

≈ 6 Comments

Today marks exactly one month until the bimillennium of Augustus’ death, and thus also to the middle day of my Commemorating Augustus conference. For a couple of years now I have been tweeting Augustus-related events which can be dated exactly 2000 years ago to the day using the #Aug2K hashtag, and naturally I’d hoped that these would intensify in the run-up to the big day. I was certainly aware that we know quite a lot about Augustus’ comings and goings during the last few weeks of his life, and it didn’t seem unreasonable to hope that some of them would be datable – especially since one was a public appearance at a major festival in Naples. Frustratingly, though, I’ve discovered that in spite of how much we know, we can’t actually put a precise calendar date to a single thing Augustus did between holding a lustrum with Tiberius on May 11th and his death on August 19th. So this post sets out what we do know, what we don’t, and what we can guess.

The major historical accounts

In chronological order of their composition, the major accounts of Augustus’ final days are:

  • Velleius Paterculus 2.123
  • Tacitus Annals 1.5
  • Suetonius Augustus 97-100
  • Cassius Dio 56.29-30

All basically agree that Augustus died in a family villa near Nola, and that he was in this area partly because he had just attended a festival held in his honour at Naples, and partly because he had been accompanying Tiberius on the first leg of a journey towards a military posting in Illyricum (or strictly, by that date, Dalmatia). All this is the sort of information we can usually be relatively confident in from ancient historical texts, since it would have been a matter of public record, and any author wishing to appear credible would therefore need to stick to it.

The only major area of disagreement is whether or not Tiberius, who continued towards Dalmatia when Augustus took to his bed but was summoned back once it became clear that this was his final illness, had time to get back to Nola before Augustus actually died. Velleius (a direct contemporary but also a strong partisan of Tiberius) is adamant that he did and Suetonius also takes it for granted, but Tacitus sows doubt on the matter (without actually saying that he definitely didn’t), and Dio (now writing some 200 years later) has come across both stories and is inclined to trust those who say he didn’t. Here, we’re dealing with the sort of historical issue we can’t really resolve – a private matter the truth of which would have been known only to people actually present at Augustus’ death-bed, and a highly politically-charged one to boot, since Tiberius as heir would have every reason to want to say he was there in Augustus’ final moments to receive his blessing, while his enemies would wish to say the opposite. That said, Carter 1982: 204 argues that Tiberius’ position was strong enough by AD 14 to mean that he did not need to pretend Augustus was still alive when he got to Nola in order to ensure his succession, which is the motive suggested by Tacitus. Also, the very fact that Tacitus merely says no-one knows whether Tiberius made it back in time, rather than stating as a fact that he didn’t, reveals the suggestion as a typically Tacitean slander. So, on the whole, I’m willing to believe Velleius and Suetonius here – and in any case, Tiberius’ presence or absence at the death-bed doesn’t make any real difference to Augustus’ own time-line.

Suetonius’ account

What should give us more pause for thought is the fact that of our four accounts, only Suetonius gives any kind of detail about Augustus’ final journey – and his account is clearly a carefully-crafted literary set-piece, rich with resonances and symbolism about Augustus’ style of leadership. Indeed, two of the papers at my conference will analyse Suetonius’ account in exactly these sorts of terms. In her paper, ‘The last days of Augustus’, Alison Cooley will show how Suetonius uses the Bay of Naples setting to add meaning to Augustus’ death-scene and anticipate his deification, while Trevor Luke in his paper ‘ A Gift for the Princeps: Suetonius on Augustus’ Final Journey’ will show how the account works as a Menippean satire with Saturnalian motifs.

None of this necessarily means that the journey as Suetonius describes it didn’t happen. He may simply be the only author to cover it in detail because a) he had access to imperial records about it which other writers did not and b) he found those details interesting and worth including from his perspective as a biographer. For Suetonius, the final journey and death are the grand climax to his exploration of Augustus’ life and character; for Velleius and Tacitus in particular it is something they need to deal with briefly in order to get on to the events which follow, and which are their real focus of interest. (Dio gives it more space, but is still basically interested in it as a historical event, rather than a way of revealing character.) So Suetonius could well have worked up the skeleton of a real journey into a richly evocative literary set-piece. But we do also need to bear in mind that he may have invented some of the details, and especially those which work to create the literary effects he is after. The only points in the journey which we can really be confident of are Rome, Naples and Nola.

That said, this is the itinerary which Suetonius gives us:

    • May 11th – Augustus and Tiberius complete the lustrum in Rome.
    • After some considerable delay, Augustus leaves Rome in order to accompany Tiberius as far as Beneventum on his way to his military posting in Illyricum (aka Dalmatia).
    • Augustus travels by road to Astura, and then boards a ship.
    • Augustus sails along the coast towards Campania and the Bay of Naples. The first symptoms of his illness, a stomach / bowel disorder, appear.
    • As he passes the gulf of Puteoli, he talks to sailors on a ship which has just arrived from Alexandria, and gives his companions money to buy goods from them. This means they must stop and dock alongside the Alexandrian ship.
    • The party arrives at Capri and spends four days there. Augustus is in good spirits, giving out presents, watching gymnastic exercises, hosting a banquet, indulging in jokes and making up poetic verses.
    • Augustus crosses to Naples, where he attends a festival which had been established in his honour.
    • After the games, Augustus starts to journey inland with Tiberius towards Beneventum.
    • But his illness becomes worse and he and stops off at his villa at Nola.
    • Tiberius initially continues onwards with his journey, but is recalled when it becomes clear that Augustus is dying.
    • Augustus has enough time on his death-bed to engage in conversation with the people around him, including Livia, various companions and (according to Suetonius) Tiberius.
    • August 19th – Augustus dies at the ninth hour.

That’s detailed enough for us to be able to plot it on a map, as follows (with red representing travel by road, blue representing travel by sea, and a dotted line for the final part of the journey which Augustus planned but did not complete):

Augustus final journey

We could also come up with plausible estimates for how long Augustus took to move between each point on the map. Here, a passage from Suetonius on Augustus’ normal travel habits guides us:

He travelled in a litter, usually at night, and by such slow and easy stages that he took two days to go to Praeneste or Tibur; and if he could reach his destination by sea, he preferred to sail.

That would surely go double for this final journey, when he is elderly and increasingly infirm, so we might sketch out something like the following:

      • Rome to Astura (by road) – 3 days
      • Astura to Puteoli (by sea) – 2 days
      • Time spent in Puteoli, then travel onwards to Capri – 1 day
      • Time spent on Capri – 4 days (explicitly stated by Suetonius)
      • Crossing to Naples and time spent at the festival – several days (more on this below)
      • Naples to Nola (by road) – 2 days
      • Time spent in bed at the villa – sounds like at least a week
      • August 19th – death.

And that would be enough to build a framework of dates around… if only we had any more to hang it on than the final date, Augustus’ death. But we don’t. We don’t know exactly when he left Rome (only that it was probably quite some time after May 11th), and nor do we know the date of the festival which he attended at Naples. And this is the bit which really frustrates me, because at the time everyone must have known when that festival took place. But I have read up on the matter quite extensively, and that date remains just out of our historical reach.

The Sebasta at Naples

Here’s what we know about the festival at Naples, much of which is covered in this excellent article in Archaeology online. It was a set of games voted in Augustus’ honour by the people of Naples in 2 BC, but probably took place for the first time in AD 2. They were Isolympic games, which means that, like the Olympic games, they took place once every four years. They were officially known as in the local Greek language as the Italica Romaia Sebasta Isolympia, i.e. Italian Roman Augustan Isolympic games (Sebastos being the Greek equivalent of Augustus). However, they are often also referred to as the Augustalia – rather confusingly, because there were multiple festivals in the ancient world with that name. They involved athletic contests such as foot races, chariot races, boxing, wrestling and a pentathlon, followed by artistic contests in music, literature and drama. They crop up quite a lot in literary sources, which mention some of their most famous participants (e.g. Claudius, Nero and the poet Statius). Some of the rules and events held and the names of many humbler victors are also recorded in one inscription now on display in Naples Museum and discussed in Geer 1935 (sorry, JSTOR link – it’s not publicly available) and another recently-discovered one which the article in Archaeology reports on. And a letter from the emperor Hadrian, discussed in detail in Jones 2007 (sorry, JSTOR again), which came out of a meeting held at the 34th Naples Sebasta in AD 134, gives a detailed account of the cycle for all of the various contemporary isolympic games, including the Sebasta, and agrees to changes to the dates of some of them.

Quite a lot of information, then! But still what survives of the inscriptions and Hadrian’s letter does not give the actual date when the games took place. The letter places it in a cycle relative to other games, but even this only tells us that it fell after the Capitolia (May-June) and before the Actia (September 23rd, Augustus’ birthday). All that really does is confirm what we know from the accounts of Augustus’ death – that the Naples Sebasta took place not long before August 19th. We know from Strabo that they lasted several days, and the inscriptions confirm this, showing that the athletic events took place first, and were then followed by musical and literary events on their own days. But that is where the trail grows cold. The actual calendar date for any of this remains just out of reach.

That’s not to say we can’t put forward a guess. A very plausible one is offered on p. 253 of P. Herz 1997, ‘Herrscherverehrung und lokale Festkultur im Osten des römischen Reiches (Kaiser / Agone)’ in H. Cancik and J. Rüpke, eds. Römische Reichsreligion und Provinzialreligion (Tübingen); pp. 239-64. Herz argues that the most likely date in that vicinity would be 1st August, which was the anniversary of the day on which Augustus had occupied Alexandria and thus brought the civil wars to an end in 30 BC. The principle which Herz is following here is the same one applied to the isolympic games at Actium, which also opened on an important Augustan anniversary – in that case, Augustus’ birthday. 1st August was certainly in the same sort of league. It is marked up as a major anniversary in several ancient calendars (scroll down for August 1st), and was also the day of another important Augustan religious festival – the annual gathering of representatives from across Gaul at the Altar of Roma and Augustus at Lugdunum (Lyon). So it has the ring of truth about it that the Sebasta at Naples should also open on the same auspicious day.

Back to Suetonius

A date of 1st August for the Sebasta at Naples would fit neatly into Suetonius’ narrative, too. If the festival opened on 1st August and lasted for ‘several days’, and then Augustus took another two days to travel from Naples to Nola before taking to his bed, that would leave something of the order of another 10 days of illness in the villa before his death on August 19th. That’s very plausibly long enough for the sorts of death-bed scenes which our ancient authors describe, and particularly for Tiberius to carry on for a bit, maybe even make it to Illyricum, and still just about have time to get back before the end.

Counting back from the opening of the games, we can also make a stab at roughly when Augustus left Rome. In fact, 1st August for the start of the games, minus about 10 days spent travelling from Rome and larking around on Capri means he would have left Rome about now… or about now 2000 years ago, that is.

Alas, I can’t be sure of that, and of course nor can I be sure that the journey as Suetonius describes it really happened. But it’s about the best we can do. It’s certainly how I’ll be imagining Augustus spending his time for the next month on the parallel time-track which he occupies, exactly 2000 years ago.

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Countdown to the BimillenniumAugust 19, 2014
Suetonius, Augustus 100.1: "He died in the same room as his father Octavius, in the consulship of two Sextuses, Pompeius and Appuleius, on the fourteenth day before the Kalends of September at the ninth hour, just thirty-five days before his seventy-sixth birthday."

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On This Day Two Thousand Years Ago

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2012 anniversaries

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  • Sir Thomas Bodley 400th anniversary (death)

2014 anniversaries

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  • D-Day 1944 70th anniversary
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  • Jean-Philippe Rameau 250th anniversary (death)
  • Louis IX of France (St. Louis) 800th anniversary (birth)
  • Michelangelo 450th anniversary (death)
  • Star Spangled Banner bicentenary
  • William Shakespeare 450th anniversary (birth)

2015 anniversaries

  • Battle of Agincourt 600th anniversary
  • Battle of Waterloo bicentenary
  • De Montfort Parliament 750th anniversary
  • Signing of the Magna Carta 800th anniversary
  • Women's Institute centenary

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