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The Longevity Game Of King Theopompus Of Sparta

King Theopompus was an early Spartan king who flourished in the 8th and 7th centuries BCE. Similar to the legendary Spartan lawgiver, Lycurgus, Theopompus was seen as a founding father of Sparta’s government system and the ancient Spartan way of life. In addition to being known as the architect of Sparta’s conquest of Messenia in the First Messenian War (c. late 8th century BCE), Theopompus was also attributed with founding the council of ephors who served as a check and balance to the Spartan kings. This innovation reportedly caused Theopompus some family drama, especially with his wife, as the new council of ephors would somewhat restrain the power of the royal families. Theopompus’ wife accused her husband of doing a disservice to their royal descendants, as she believed he would be leaving his sons with a weakened throne to inherit. On the creation of the ephors and the royal reaction to it, the scholar Plutarch (c. 50-120) wrote: “It was apparently about 130 years after Lycurgus’ time that the first ephors were appointed, headed by Elatus, during the reign of Theopompus. This is the king about whom they also relate that when his wife criticized him because the kingship he would hand on to his sons would be less than the one he inherited, he replied: ‘No, greater—since it will last longer’” (Plutarch, Parallel Lives, Life of Lycurgus, chapter 7). On a similar note, the philosopher and intellectual, Aristotle (c. 384-322 BCE), agreed that Theopompus’ decisions stabilized the government and contributed to the longevity of Sparta’s dynastic rule. He wrote, “This diminution of the royal power had in the long run the effect of strengthening the kingship, so in a sense Theopompus did not reduce it but increased it, as he himself is reported to have said in a reply to his wife, when she asked if he was not ashamed to be passing the kingdom on to his sons in a lesser state than he had inherited it from his father. ‘Certainly not,’ he replied, ‘the kingdom that I pass on is longer-lasting’” (Aristotle, Politics, Bekker page 1313a). Indeed, the Spartan kings persisted for centuries, with the last independent monarch of the Spartans being King Nabis of Sparta (d. 192 BCE).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Illustration of Leonidas II and Kleombrotos, by Vincenzo Camuccini (1771-1844), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons, Europeana and Albertina).

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Aeneas Carrying His Father Anchises From Burning Troy, Attributed To Adriaen Lievensz. van der Poel (c. 17th century)

This dark painting, attributed to the Dutch artist Adriaen Lievensz. van der Poel (c. 17th century), depicts the end of the Trojan War and features a family that links the myths and legends of Troy to the origin tales of ancient Rome. Within the shadowy darkness at the bottom left corner of the painting, the viewer can find the Trojan hero Aeneas, carrying his father on his back, and being trailed by his wife and son. According to ancient Greek myth, Aeneas was a demigod, born of the goddess Aphrodite, and it was she who encouraged Aeneas to gather up his family and flee as the Greeks began ransacking and burning the Trojan capital. The hero obeyed his divine mother and rushed to collect his elderly father, his frightened wife, and their young son while time remained to escape. Virgil (70-19 BCE), a poet from Rome, assumed Aeneas’ point of view and described the scene:

“So come, dear father, climb up onto my shoulders!
I will carry you on my back. This labor of love
will never wear me down. Whatever falls to us now,
we both will share one peril, one path to safety.
Little Iulus, walk beside me, and you, my wife,
follow me at a distance, in my footsteps.
…With that,
over my broad shoulders and round my neck I spread
a tawny lion’s skin for a cloak, and bowing down,
I lift my burden up. Little Iulus, clutching
my right hand, keeps pace with tripping steps.
My wife trails on behind. And so we make our way
along the pitch-dark paths, and I who had never flinched
at the hurtling spears or swarming Greek assaults—
now every stir of wind, every whisper of sound
alarms me, anxious both for the child beside me
and burden on my back.”
(The Aeneid, Book II, approximately lines 880-910)

It is this episode of Aeneas and his family fleeing from their burning homeland that Adriaen Lievensz. van der Poel re-creates in his artwork. The painting showcases the destruction of the city, with its structures set ablaze, relegating Aeneas’ family and other humans to the shadows. Unfortunately, the escape of Aeneas’ family did not go seamlessly. In the most famous account of the tale, that of Virgil, Aeneas’ wife became separated from the rest of the group and ultimately did not survive the sack of the city. Other versions existed, however, in which she did successfully survive alongside her husband. In this artwork, at least, the entire family is together in the frozen frame of time that is depicted on the canvas. After escaping the besieged city, the Trojan hero would begin his odyssey toward Italy, where, according to legend, Aeneas would become an ancestor of Romulus and Remus, the legendary founders of Rome.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

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Aristotle

Aristotle (c. 384-322 BCE)

“The typical tyrant dislikes proud and free-spirited people. He regards himself as the only person entitled to those qualities; and anyone who shows a rival pride and a spirit of freedom destroys the supremacy and master-like character of the tyranny. Thus the tyrant hates such people as destroyers of his rule. He is also inclined to cultivate the company of foreigners and eat with them rather than with citizens of his own state; for the latter he sees as potential enemies, the former as not making rival claims.”

  • From Aristotle’s Politics (Bekker page 1314a), translated by T. A. Sinclair and revised by T. J. Saunders (Penguin Classics, 1962, 1981, 1992).

The Legend Of Sardanapalus Weaving His Own Demise

Ancient Greek and Roman sources wrote of a legendary Assyrian ruler named Sardanapalus. Due to archeological discoveries, we know Sardanapalus was not a particular historically-accurate figure, but a loose amalgamation of events and folkloric tales based on the reigns of the last three Assyrian kings—the half-brothers, Shamash-shun-ukin and Ashurbanipal (r. 668-627 BCE), and the latter’s son, Sin-shar-ishkun (c. 7th century BCE). As a result of the character’s amalgamized nature, many odd legends were bundled into the Greco-Roman collection of Sardanapalus tales. Aristotle (c. 384-322 BCE), for one, recorded a tale that claimed the Assyrians eventually found Sardanapalus to be contemptable after he emasculated himself by working wool alongside women. Aristotle wrote, “Sardanapalus rendered himself contemptable by being seen carding wool with the women, and was murdered by someone who saw him. (At least, that is the story of the legend-tellers; and if it is not true of him, it is pretty sure to be true of someone else.)” (Aristotle, Politics, Bekker page 1311b). Perhaps, the tale may have been influenced by the luxury in which Ashurbanipal lived, as well as his interest in literature and his patronage of the arts. It could be that ancient Greek storytellers believed the Assyrian ruler’s interests were effeminate. Nevertheless, storytelling aside, the wool-carding tale is not an accurate telling of the deaths of Ashurbanipal, Shamash-shun-ukin, and Sin-shar-ishkun. The former of the trio likely died of old age, and the latter two reportedly died in fires that were unrelated to working wool alongside women.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Small replica of The Death of Sardanapalus, by Ferdinand-Victor-Eugène Delacroix (c. 1798–1863), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Philadelphia Museum of Art).

 

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The Poet, By Pierre Puvis de Chavannes (c. 1824-1898)

This painting, by the French artist Pierre Puvis de Chavannes (c. 1824-1898), depicts an ancient poet with a lyre in the process of seemingly receiving divine guidance or inspiration from an angelic being. Other than the artwork’s title of “The Poet,” and the ancient fashion featured by the artist, there are few identifiable details in the painting that provide explicit answers as to the persons depicted. Guesswork, however, can be used to try to nail down a semblance of an identity for the figures on the artist’s canvas.

Due to the proclivity of old painters to re-create Biblical scenes, it is reasonable to think that the artwork may depict an encounter between an angel and King David, who is associated with contributing to the authorship of the poetic Book of Psalms. Angels are mentioned in the Psalms, but there are no passages detailing a physical interaction between David and an angel similar to what is seen in the painting. In the Book of Chronicles, however, there is, indeed, a detailed personal interaction. The scriptures state, “David looked up and saw the angel of the Lord standing between earth and heaven and in his hand a drawn sword stretched out over Jerusalem. Then David and the elders, clothed in sackcloth, fell on their faces” (1 Chronicles 21:16, NRSVUE version). This particular passage, however, has no resemblance, whatsoever, to the painting.

For a non-Biblical interpretation of the artwork, one may surmise that the Greek-styled figure and the robed divine being may harken back to Greco-Roman poets and the Muses that gave them spiritual patronage. In particular, the scene is reminiscent of the relationship that the ancient poet, Hesiod (c. 8th century BCE), asserted that he had with the Muses. Hesiod claimed to have personally met the Muses on Mount Helicon in Boeotia, Greece. This was an encounter of godly significance, for the Muses were goddesses of craft and creativity, covering spheres of influence over interests such as arts, sciences and music. A fortuitous meeting, the generous goddesses bestowed on Hesiod great wisdom about the gods and infused him with a great talent for poetry. Speaking of himself, Hesiod, poetically wrote:

“And once they taught Hesiod fine singing, as he tended his lambs below holy Helicon…and they gave me a branch of springing bay to pluck for a staff, a handsome one, and they breathed into me wondrous voice, so that I should celebrate things of the future and things that were aforetime. And they told me to sing of the family of blessed ones who are for ever, and first and last always to sing of themselves” (Theogony, approximately line 29).

This description of Hesiod receiving divine inspiration from a Muse seems to fit the painting better that the textual evidence about King David and angels. Nevertheless, that is purely speculation. In the end, the figures in the artwork were left intentionally vague by Pierre Puvis de Chavannes. As the painting was titled “The Poet,” it is more of an allegory that could represent any ancient writer of poetry, or an amalgamation of them all. Be it King David and an angel, or Hesiod and a Muse, the identity of  “The Poet” is ultimately left up to the beholder.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

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Euripides

Euripides (c. 485-406 BCE)

“[Y]ou should judge men by the company they keep and how they behave.”

  • From Euripides’ Electra (approximately between lines 380-390), translated by James Morwood in Medea and Other Plays (Oxford University Press, 1997, 1998, 2008).

The Tale Of King Hadingus’ Intriguing Response To A Heist In His Treasury

Hadingus (also spelled Haddingus or simplified to Hadding) was a legendary figure set in Denmark’s earliest myths and folk tales. As told in the old stories, he was a Danish king and an early member of the prestigious Skjoldung Dynasty. His era was a time of continuous wars fought between great warlords. One such warlord was Hadingus’ father, King Gram of the Danes, who was said to have conquered the land of King Sigtryg of the Swedes. Gram, in turn, was reportedly defeated by King Swipdag of the Norwegians, but the aforementioned Hadingus reclaimed his father’s empire by slaying Swipdag in a decisive battle near the island of Gotland. Although the battle was won, rival rulers remained in Norway and Sweden, notably the descendants of Swipdag, who kept Hadingus’ armies perpetually attacking or defending in waves of war. Suffice it to say, Hadingus was a warrior-king, often spending great spans of time away from his royal court to lead warriors on the front lines. These long absences, unfortunately, gave corrupt officials and criminals ample opportunity to act out in the capital. In particular, thieves were pleased to discover that the warrior-king’s treasury was woefully guarded.

King Hadingus, during a reprieve from his wars, came home to his royal court and discovered that his hoard of treasures had been plundered while he was away. Understandably, the king was furious at the official who had been responsible for guarding the treasury. This unenviable fellow was a man named Glumer, who was promptly executed by the king. In the aftermath of the execution, King Hadingus released an edict that announced great rewards and promotions for anyone who could bring the stolen treasures back to the king. Hearing this news, the opportunist thieves decided to return to their opportunism once again, and they brought what they had plundered from the treasury back to the king, expecting to be rewarded for their deed. The Danish historian, Saxo Grammaticus (c. 12th-13th centuries), wrote wittily of what happened next, stating, “Their confession was received at first with promotion and favors, and soon visited with punishment, thus bequeathing a signal lesson against being too confiding. I should judge that men, whose foolish blabbing brought them to destruction, when wholesome silence could have ensured their safety, well deserved to atone upon the gallows for their breach of reticence” (Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danorum, Book I). With the treasure restored and the thieves punished, King Hadingus was able to once again devote himself fully to his life of warfare.

Written by C. Keith Hansely

Picture Attribution: (artwork titled “Titteldekorasjon, Olav Kyrres saga,” made by Gerhard Munthe between 1895-1899, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the National Museum of Norway.)

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  • The Danish History by Saxo Grammaticus, translated by Oliver Elton (Norroena Society, 1905) and edited for reprint by Douglas B. Killings (2012).

Achilles Among The Daughters Of Lycomedes, By An Unidentified 18th-Century Artist

This curious painting, by an unidentified 18th-century artist, draws inspiration from an ancient Greek myth about Achilles’ recruitment into the Trojan War. As the story goes, Achilles’ parents—the Nereid nymph Thetis and King Peleus of the Myrmidons at Phthia—received a prophecy that their son would die in the Trojan War. Horrified by this oracle, the worried parents decided to hide their son from the Greek recruiters who were mobilizing the might of Greece for war. To achieve their objective, Peleus and Thetis smuggled Achilles to King Lycomedes on the island of Scyros, where they hoped to disguise Achilles as a woman and hide him among Lycomedes’ large household of daughters. There, Achilles’ parents hoped that their costumed son could blend in with the princesses at Scyros and avoid the war. The ploy worked for a time, and it might have succeeded in the long run, too, had cunning and observant Odysseus not been the recruiter searching for Achilles. A scholar known as Pseudo-Apollodorus (c. 1st-2nd century) summarized the ancient accounts of the tale:

“When Achilles was nine years old, Calchas declared that Troy could not be taken without him, but Thetis—who knew in advance that he was fated to be killed if he joined the expedition—disguised him in women’s clothing and entrusted him to Lycomedes in the semblance of a young girl…Achilles’ whereabouts were betrayed, however, and Odysseus, searching for him at the court of Lycomedes, discovered him by causing a trumpet to be sounded. And so it came that Achilles went to Troy” (Apollodorus, Library, 3.13.8).

It is this myth of Achilles at Scyros that the painting depicts. It should be noted, while the tale of Achilles with the daughters of Lycomedes was a popular story, there were competing narratives. Homer, the most famous and influential of the Trojan War storytellers, wrote a totally different version in The Iliad, in which an undisguised Achilles eagerly and excitedly accepted Odysseus’ invitation to join the Trojan War. In Homer’s scene the character, Nestor, reminisced about recruiting Achilles and his friend Patroclus, saying, “We had come to Phthia and the welcoming palace of Achilles’ father Peleus to recruit troops…At that moment, Odysseus and I appeared at the gate. Achilles was amazed and sprang to his feet, took us by the hand, brought us in…I began to speak, urging you [Patroclus] and Achilles to join us. You were more than willing, and your fathers both started giving you advice” (Homer, The Iliad, book 11, approximately lines 770-780). Nevertheless, the painter of the artwork above (like many other fellow artists) rejected Homer’s account of Achilles’ recruitment, and instead opted for the alternative tale of Achilles being discovered among Lycomedes’ daughters.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

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Lucian of Samosata

Lucian of Samosata (c. 120-180+)

“I think you haven’t yet grasped the fact that virtue surely lies in deeds, in behaving justly, wisely, and bravely; whereas all of you (by which I mean you leading philosophers) ignore such things, and practice how to invent and construct your wretched phrases and your syllogisms and problems.”

  • From Lucian’s Hermotimus or On Philosophical Schools (section 79), translated in Selected Dialogues by C. D. N. Costa. Oxford: Oxford University Press (Oxford World Classics), 2005, 2006, 2009.

Mark Twain Did Not Write, “It is never wrong to do the right thing”

Online quote aggregators and databases of dubious attribution accuracy often claim that Mark Twain (the alias used by Samuel Clemens, c. 1835-1910) stated, “It is never wrong to do the right thing,” or, alternatively, “You’re never wrong to do the right thing.” Moreover, the people who claim that Mark Twain stated this quote often go on to state that this passage came from The Autobiography of Mark Twain. Yet, none of the quote aggregators disclose a chapter or page number for the quote in question. This is a red flag. Now, here at The Historian’s Hut, we prefer to only feature quotes if we can trace its origin back to a specific text and chapter, or other such searchable numeration, so that readers can find the passages in their own copies of the literary work in question. Unfortunately, this kind of attribution is not possible for the quote highlighted here. After searching through several copies of Mark Twain’s autobiography and collected works, including editions dating both from the early 20th century as well as newer versions from the 21st century, the unfortunate conclusion is that Mark Twain never wrote “It is never wrong to do the right thing” or “You’re never wrong to do the right thing.” Mark Twain would likely subscribe to that philosophy, but he just did not write down the quote.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Samuel Clemens, full seated portrait, [no known rights restrictions] via the Library of Congress).

 

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