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The Last Moments Of Chlodobert, Painted By Albert Maignan (1845–1908)

This painting, by the French artist Albert Maignan (1845–1908), depicts the death of  Chlodobert, son of the Frankish King Chilperic I (r. 561-584) and Queen Fredegund. Chlodobert’s death occurred in the year 580, when a great outbreak of dysentery tormented the several kingdoms that made up the empire of the Franks. Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), a bishop and historian who lived contemporaneously to that time, described Chlodobert’s final moments:

“As for Chlodobert, they placed him on a stretcher and carried him to the church of Saint Medard in Soissons. They set him down before the Saint’s tomb and made vows for his recovery. He died in the middle of the night, worn to a shadow and hardly drawing breath. They buried him in the church of the holy martyrs Crispin and Crispian. The whole populace bewailed his death” (History of the Franks, V.34).

Albert Maignan admirably followed Gregory’s account in painting the scene shown above. The background behind young Chlodobert clearly shows the tomb of Saint Medard, and Chilperic and Fredegund are displayed offering their vows and prayers in hopes of a miracle that, unfortunately, would not come. Many more deaths would result from the dysentery outbreak of 580, affecting the nobility seemingly just as badly as the commoners. Chilperic and Fredegund would lose a second son to the disease, and the king’s brother, Guntram of Burgundy, also lost his wife, Queen Austrechild, in the same epidemic.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

  • The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.

Confucius

Confucius (c. 551-479 BCE)

“If the ruler himself is upright, all will go well even though he does not give orders. But if he himself is not upright, even though he gives orders, they will not be obeyed.”

  • The Analects of Confucius (Book XIII, section 6) translated by Arthur Waley (Vintage Books, 1989).

The Tale Of The Vanished Steward, Areobindus

In an odd text called the Anecdota (or the Secret History), a 6th-century historian named Procopius compiled a slew of nasty rumors, conspiracies, scandals, and general criticisms about Emperor Justinian (r. 527-565), Empress Theodora (d. 548), and other high officials of Constantinople from the 6th century. While much of the bizarre text is libelous and unfounded, there are enough grains of truth within the Secret History to keep it relevant. The longevity of the book is also helped by the fact that Procopius was the most prestigious historian of his time, due to his much more imperially-friendly texts, The Buildings and The Wars, which were acclaimed even within his own lifetime. Nevertheless, despite Procopius’ laudatory and prolific ability as a historian, the tales he presents in his Secret History (which was published after his death) should be treated with the proverbial grain of salt, as the tone he used in the text is one of pure biased hostility. Disclaimers aside, the odd episodes presented in the Secret History are entertaining and merit repeat, if only for the sake of storytelling. One such tale worth telling is that of Areobindus, a steward of the imperial family who reportedly went missing during a time of great whisperings and rumor.

As the story goes, Areobindus was a handsome young man in the employ of the royal family of Constantinople. In particular, he managed to become a member of Empress Theodora’s entourage, and eventually was appointed to serve as her personal steward. Details such as how long he served in that capacity or how well his administered his duties are not known, but he did well enough to earn the noticeable favor of the empress. Yet, good standing with the empress could also be a dangerous thing for Areobindus, as such favor would undoubtedly inspire jealousy and envy in the hearts of those who wanted to replace him. And if the steward did indeed gain the friendship of the empress, then Areobindus could similarly become a target of Theodora’s enemies in the rough politics of Constantinople. Unfortunately, Areobindus did become a target, but as to who attacked him and why, little is known.

Empress Theodora was a beautiful woman, with a somewhat scandalous early career as an actress. Gossips and rumor mills fantasized about what types of lascivious shows the entertainer-turned-empress put on in the years before she married Justinian. As such, Theodora was always susceptible to lusty talk behind her back, and when handsome, young Areobindus became a favored member of the empress’ entourage, his name was quickly added into the ample gossip about the royal court.

During the time that Areobindus was steward, rumors about Theodora’s private life became chaotic. Either occurring naturally, or perhaps fanned by troublemakers, Constantinople eventually became filled with salacious stories about Theodora and her favorite steward. Gossip spread like wildfire, claiming that the empress was madly in love with Areobindus, with added inference that the two were having an affair. These must have been particularly nasty and widespread rumors, as Empress Theodora and Emperor Justinian apparently felt the need to counteract the gossip. Theodora first tried to push Areobindus away, no longer showing him the signs of favor and friendship that had caused the gossip to arise. When the rumors persisted even after the empress had distanced herself from the steward, the imperial family decided to take more drastic measures. Ultimately, Areobindus simply vanished without a trace, never to be seen again. Procopius colorfully described the steward’s disappearance:

“Wishing to refute the charge (though, as they say, she was madly smitten with him), for the moment she made up her mind to maltreat him in the most harsh manner for no reason at all. What happened to him after we have no idea, nor has anyone seen him to this day. For if she chose to conceal anything that was going on, that thing remained unspoken and no reference was ever made to it; anyone who knew the facts was no longer allowed to report them to any of his closest friends, nor might the man who wished to learn of them ask any questions, however curious he might be” (Secret History, chapter 16).

Such was the way that Procopius described Areobindus’ disappearance from Constantinople. Of course, there are many ways that the steward’s absence can be interpreted, and—once again—nothing written by Procopius in his Secret History should be taken at face value. Perhaps, Areobindus hit the road in search of a new start, or the empress might have found the steward employment elsewhere and kept his location secret so as to keep him from being harassed. Then again, there always is the chance that Procopius is telling the truth in this particular tale.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Empress Theodora, painted by Jean-Joseph Benjamin-Constant (1845–1902), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

Sources:

  • The Secret History by Procopius, translated by G. A. Williamson and Peter Sarris. New York: Penguin Classics, 1966, 2007.

Charlemagne Being Crowned Emperor By Pope Leo III, Painted By Jean Fouquet (c. 15th Century)

This illustration, created by the French artist Jean Fouquet (d. 1481) for the Grandes Chroniques de France, depicts a famous event from the life of Charlemagne (r. 768-814). It re-creates a scene that occurred in the year 800, when Charlemagne was in Rome to support Pope Leo III, who had nearly been assassinated a year prior. With Charlemagne’s help, the people who had assaulted the pope were caught and brought to justice. As thanks for the king’s aid, Pope Leo III personally crowned Charlemagne as an emperor and named him Defender of the Roman Church. Charlemagne’s biographer, Einhard (c. 770-840), described the event, writing, “Thus Charles traveled to Rome to restore the state of the Church, which was extremely disturbed, and he spent the whole winter there. It was at this time that he received the title of Emperor and Augustus” (The Life of Charlemagne, chapter 28). A later figure named Notker the Stammerer (c. 840-912), wrote another account in his text, The Deeds of Charlemagne:

“As Charles stayed in Rome for a few days for the sake of the army, the bishop of the apostolic see called together all who were able to come from the neighboring districts and then, in their presence and in the presence of all the counts of the unconquered Charles, he declared him to be Emperor and Defender of the Roman Church” (The Deeds of Charlemagne, book 1, chapter 26).

This ceremony of Charlemagne being crowned emperor by Pope Leo III is what Jean Fouquet re-created in the illustration featured above. The imperial designation given to Charlemagne that day in the year 800 eventually evolved into the title of Holy Roman Emperor, and the lands these emperors ruled became known as the Holy Roman Empire. After around a millennium of existence, the Holy Roman Empire was finally dissolved in 1806.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

  • Two Lives of Charlemagne, by Einhard and Notker the Stammer, translated by David Ganz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.

Giovanni Boccaccio

Giovanni Boccaccio (c. 1313-1375)

“Are these, then, the people whose advice we should follow? Anyone is free to do so if he likes, but God knows whether he will be acting wisely.”

  • The Decameron (Third Day, Seventh Story) by Giovanni Boccaccio, translated by G. H. McWilliam. New York: Penguin Classics, 2003.

The Tale Of Ingimund The Old Bringing A Bear From Iceland To King Harald Finehair Of Norway

Ingimund the Old was a prominent figure among the first generation of Icelanders, and his ancestors and countrymen preserved his name in elaborate tales of folklore and legend. Stories about his life are featured in medieval works such as the Landnámabók (The Book of Settlements) and the Vatnsdæla saga (Saga of the People of Vatnsdal). According to these sources, Ingimund came from Norway, where his family was respected, but held little social status or power beyond their ancestral farm. When he grew into adulthood, Ingimund decided to become a Viking and reportedly went on many raiding voyages, earning a reputation as a valiant warrior and a fair leader. When Harald Finehair (ruled approximately 860-940) began expanding his influence over the other petty kings and chieftains in Norway, Ingimund was said to have decided to support Harald. He joined the king’s army at the decisive Battle of Hafrsfjord in the late 9th century, a victory that cemented Harald Finehair’s dominance in Norway.  Despite having the king’s favor, Ingimund eventually decided to move to Iceland, where he settled in the Vatnsdal region of the island and became a leading figure among the settlers there.

Although Ingimund left Norway, he was said to have remained friends with Harald Finehair and kept the king in his thoughts. In fact, one day when Ingimund discovered something incredible while out surveying and exploring his new land in Iceland, his first impulse was apparently to sail back to Norway so that King Harald could see what he found. As the story goes, Ingimund and his followers had made a chance encounter with a she-bear and two cubs during a particularly icy season. According to the Landnámabók, these were polar bears, which, although not native to Iceland, are known to catch a ride to the island on ice floes from time to time. Ingimund managed to catch the bears (or at least the cubs), and was able to keep the animals alive. The next time that Ingimund sailed to Norway to purchase supplies and lumber, he brought the bears with him, and reportedly gave one or more of the polar bears to King Harald Finehair. On this incident, the Landnámabók stated, “Afterwards he went abroad and gave these animals to King Harald. People in Norway had never seen polar bears before” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 179). As thanks for the exotic gift, King Harald was said to have given Ingimund the Old two ships. One was an impressive vessel named Stigandi, pre-stocked by the king with a cargo of lumber. The other was a smaller craft in which Ingimund the Old would eventually be buried back in Iceland.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Norse folklore or mythology image, from an August 4,  1859, edition of Once a Week magazine, colorized by the Wikipedia user GinnevraDubois, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

Sources:

  • The Book of Settlements (Sturlubók version) translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1972, 2006.
  • Saga of the People of Vatnsdal, translated by Andrew Wawn and edited by Örnólfur Thorsson, in The Sagas of Icelanders. Penguin Classics, 2001.

Ulysses And The Sirens, Painted By Thomas Moran (1837–1926)

This painting, created by the American artist Thomas Moran (1837–1926), depicts one of the famous obstacles faced by Odysseus (a name Latinized to Ulysses) during his famous journey home after the Trojan War. It is Odysseus’ ship that is depicted on the left side of the painting, seen floating on the horizon. At the opposite end of the painting, standing in a deceptively pleasant meadow, are the Sirens—formidable monsters who were known to use beautiful singing to lure sailors to their deaths. Traditionally, sirens were depicted as bird-women in ancient Greece, but by the time Thomas Moran painted his scene, it was common for Sirens to be depicted in art as mermaids or simply as humanoid figures lounging on the shore. Moran, as is evident from the image above, chose the latter option, and placed his Sirens on dry ground, with no bird or mermaid attributes to be seen.

Homer, the great Greek poet who flourished around 700 BCE, described the danger of the Sirens in a speech that he wrote for the character, Circe. She told Odysseus:

“There is no homecoming for the man who draws near them unawares and hears the Sirens’ voices; no welcome from his wife, no little children brightening at their father’s return. For with their high clear song the Sirens bewitch him, as they sit there in a meadow piled high with the mouldering skeletons of men, whose withered skin still hangs upon their bones” (Homer, The Odyssey, book 12, approximately lines 40-50).

Due to Circe’s forewarning and advice, Odysseus and his crew were able to survive the Sirens. Plugging their ears with wax, the sailors successfully counteracted the tempting beckons of the Sirens. Odysseus, however, wanted to hear the deadly song, and he succeeded in his gamble by having himself tied to the ship’s mast as they sailed past the Sirens’ lair.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

Lucan

 

Lucan (c. 39-65)

“You’ll learn that those who are able to hold the peace
do not also run away from war.”

  • From Lucan’s Civil War (Book 2, approximately line 588), translated by Matthew Fox (Penguin Classics, 2012).

King Liu Chang’s Costly Mission To Avenge His Mother

King Liu Chang of Huainan was a son of Emperor Gaozu (r. 202-195 BCE) and an unnamed concubine from the kingdom of Zhao. His childhood, however, was quite complicated. The concubine became implicated in a conspiracy against the emperor around 198 BCE, and she was thrown in prison. Before her imprisonment, she had become pregnant with the emperor’s child, but her pregnancy did not spare her. No pardons came, and she eventually gave birth to a son, Liu Chang, while still in prison. Not long after the birth, the unnamed concubine unfortunately died. The circumstances behind her death are vague, and a difficult birth, poor conditions, suicide or execution are all possible. Whatever the case, she died almost immediately after Liu Chang’s birth, at which point Emperor Gaozu recognized the infant as his son and tasked the boy’s upbringing to his wife, Empress Lü. The imperial couple soon after gave Liu Chang a noble title, making him the child-king of Huainan in 196 BCE. (For more on the circumstances behind the death of Liu Chang’s mother, click HERE).

Liu Chang and his adopted mother, Empress Lü, reportedly had a warm relationship, but as the young king grew older, he was said to have become obsessed with learning about the circumstances of his real mother’s death. Although he had been a newborn infant at the time of his mother’s demise, Liu Chang was able to piece together the sad tale of what happened through whatever sources and witnesses he had at his disposal. As the king was gathering information about his mother’s final days, he came across a name to which he could pin all of his anger. A certain Marquis Shen Yiji of Biyang, the king learned, had been a confidant of Liu Chang’s mother before her imprisonment. After she was imprisoned, however, Shen Yiji did very little to help the king’s mother get out of her predicament. Rightly or wrongly, the king came to believe that his mother could have been saved if Shen Yiji had spoken up more fervently on her behalf.

As Liu Chang grew to maturity and began to embrace the power of his noble title, he apparently started to dream of seeking revenge against Shen Yiji. The king’s dark thoughts started to consolidate into a plan of action by the time Liu Chang’s older half-brother, Emperor Wen, took the throne in 180 BCE. After years of contemplating revenge, the king finally brought about his long-awaited dream of confrontation in 177 BCE. Grand Historian Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE) recorded the tale, writing, “He went to call on Shen Yiji, the marquis of Biyang, and requested an interview, and when Shen Yiji appeared, he smashed him over the head with an iron mallet which he had concealed in his sleeve. Then he ordered his attendant Wei Jing to cut off Shen Yiji’s head” (Shi Ji 118). After committing the murder, Liu Chang reportedly turned himself in to Emperor Wen and explained why he had done the crime. The emperor pardoned his younger brother in this instance, but it was the beginning of the end for Liu Chang.

Although the emperor decided not to pursue charges, other highly influential people in government began to watch Liu Chang with suspicion after the murder. Sima Qian elaborated on the contrasting perceptions that the emperor and his court had toward the king’s actions, saying, “Emperor Wen, moved by the resolution Liu Chang had shown in avenging his mother’s death, did not punish him but pardoned his offense. At this time Empress Dowager Bo, the heir apparent, and the various high officials were all terrified of Liu Chang” (Shi Ji 118). Those who now feared the young king would soon begin to look for ways to reduce his power. As critics of Liu Chang included Emperor Wen’s mother and children, it became hard for the emperor to ignore the outcry against his younger brother.

King Liu Chang’s downfall occurred in 174 BCE, when Han officials accused the king of courting the forces of Minyue and the Xiongnu, a charge which hinted at rebellion. The accusation soon began to snowball, as the prosecutors started bundling every criticism and suspicion that had ever been recorded about the king. Haughty behavior, presumptuous conduct, and the aforementioned killing of Shen Yiji were all brought up in the case that was presented before the emperor. The officials were said to have suggested that Liu Chang be executed for his crimes, but the emperor disregarded this recommendation. Liu Chang, however, did not receive a second pardon. Instead, Emperor Wen stripped Liu Chang of his lands and ordered him into exile. The deposed king, unfortunately, was said to have died on the road from suicide or illness.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (lacquer painting from a four-panel wooden folding screen measuring 81.5 cm in height; from the tomb of Sima Jinlong in Datong, Shanxi province, dated to the Northern Wei Dynasty (386–534 AD). [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

Sources:

  • The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

Valhalla, Illustrated By Emil Doepler (c. 1855-1922)

This boisterous illustration by the German artist Emil Doepler (c. 1855-1922) is a depiction of Valhöll (better known as Valhalla), the great hall of the Norse god, Odin. Valhalla was where warriors believed they could be brought in the afterlife if their military careers were bold and glorious enough to catch the appraising eye of Odin and his Valkyries. There, in and around Odin’s hall, the heroic souls would engage in endless feasts and battles until they were finally mobilized for their final battle at the oncoming of the Norse doomsday of the gods—Ragnarök. Many medieval descriptions of Valhalla exist, some of which are in the anonymous poems that make up the so-called Poetic Edda, a collection of old Norse verses that were gathered and compiled in Iceland around the 13th century. Many of those poems, however, focused more on the military side of Valhalla, commenting on how its benches were draped in mail coats and that its walls and roof were covered in shields, and how many hundreds of warriors could charge in and out of its doorways at one time. For an account that instead mimics Emil Doepler’s focus on the partying and drinking inside the hall, we can turn to the Icelandic politician and historian, Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), who elaborated on Valhalla’s lively feasts in his Prose Edda. He wrote of a certain wiseman named King Gylfi, who was said to have been able to venture into Valhalla. According to Snorri Sturluson, these are the sights that Gylfi witnessed:

“Gylfi saw a man in the doorway of the hall. He was juggling short swords and had seven in the air at once…The man then turned and went into the hall. Gylfi followed him and immediately the door closed after him. He saw many living areas there and groups of people. Some were playing games, some were drinking, and some had weapons and were fighting. He looked around, and it seemed to him that much of what he was seeing was incredible” (Snorri Sturluson, Prose Edda, Gylfaginning, chapter 2).

This atmosphere of feasting and partying is what Emil Doepler re-created in his illustration. In Odin’s hall, the food and drink was never-ending, and the elite warriors of Valhalla only put their festivities on hold when time came for them to engage in their daily battle amongst themselves, after which the party resumed.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

  • The Prose Edda by Snorri Sturluson, translated by Jesse Byock. New York: Penguin Classics, 2005.
  • Poetic Edda, was produced anonymously in 13th-Iceland. Translation by Carolyne Larrington (Oxford University Press, 2014).