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The Mysterious Disir Of Norse Religion

By
thehistorianshut
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The Disir were important and powerful beings in the world of Norse mythology. Much about these creatures, however, remained undefined and could vary from one Scandinavian region to another. There were, however, some standard traits about the Disir that most Scandinavian communities agreed upon. For one, the Disir were always portrayed as female entities. Additionally, the medieval Swedes, Norwegians and Icelanders all believed the Disir were worthy of honorary sacrifices and feasts during the Winter Nights. In Norway and Iceland, this event was called dísablót (“sacrifice to the Disir”), and in Sweden it was called dísaping, or “Disir-Assembly.”

Generally, a Dís (singular of Disir) was seen as a powerful supernatural being that took a keen interest in families and estates. Their strength could vary greatly. Sometimes, they were described as mere guardian ancestor spirits, but their power could also inflate to that of minor local gods. The Disir would usually use their power for good—they acted as guardians to families and family farms, and sometimes even lent their protection to individual people. Yet, they did not love unconditionally and were known to take revenge against families or people who had not given proper sacrifice, or had otherwise angered their respective Dís.

Scholars have found similarities between the Disir and other forms of matron worship throughout Scandinavia, Germany and Britain. In Norse mythology, alone, the Disir seem closely tied to Valkyries and fetches, but the Disir seemed to have been the strongest of these female Norse mythological compatriots. In the end, the Disir remain a mysterious group of beings who, although they did not have a clear position in the hierarchy of the Norse gods, were seen as powerful spirits that deserved respect.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Image of Sif commissioned by James Baldwin (c. 1897), in front of a depiction of a disablot by August Malmström, both [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

Geoffrey of Monmouth

By
thehistorianshut
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Geoffrey of Monmouth (12th-century British writer)

“Kings were anointed not in God’s name, but because they were more bloodthirsty than their fellows.”

  • From Geoffrey of Monmouth’s The History of the Kings of Britain (12.6), completed in 1136, translated from Latin into English by Lewis Thorpe (Penguin Classics, 1966).

The Suspicious Fall Of The Roman Noblewoman, Apronia

By
thehistorianshut
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In the dark of night, sometime in the year 24, a noblewoman named Apronia fell to her death from a high window in the city of Rome. With her at the time was her husband, Plautius Silvanus, a praetor of Rome—a high government official ranked just under the consuls. When the body of Apronia was discovered, the authorities immediately suspected Silvanus. During his interview, he claimed to have been asleep during the incident and that his wife must have committed suicide.

The case was high profile enough that the ruler of Rome at the time, Emperor Tiberius (r. 14-37), was said to have gone in person to the scene of the crime. After conducting his own investigation of the premises, Tiberius concluded that there were signs of a violent struggle in the home. Convinced that a violent crime had been committed, Emperor Tiberius brought Plautius Silvanus before the Roman Senate to be tried for murder. The senators must not have believed Silvanus’ story, for the praetor’s own grandmother, Urgulania (a friend of Tiberius’ mother), had a dagger sent to Silvanus, giving him a not-too-subtle message telling him to either fight his way out of custody or to commit suicide. Sadly, Silvanus decided to follow the latter path and, after two attempts, managed to end his own life.

Yet, even after the prime suspect’s death, the investigation into Apronia’s murder remained active. Silvanus’ ex-wife, Numantina, was also tried for involvement in the murder. She was accused of using incantations and potions in order to induce madness in Silvanus, causing him to push his wife out of the window. Fortunately, she was eventually acquitted of all charges and was released, leaving all the blame on the deceased praetor.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture attribution: (The Death (defenestration) of Jezebel, by Gustave Doré (1832–1883), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

  • The Annals of Imperial Rome by Tacitus, translated by Michael Grant. New York: Penguin Classics, 1996.

Christine de Pizan

By
thehistorianshut
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Christine de Pizan (French authoress, c. 1364-1430)

“Let me tell you that those who speak ill of women do more harm to themselves than they do to the women they actually slander.”

  • From The Book of the City of Ladies (Part I, chapter 2) by Christine de Pizan, translated by Rosalind Brown-Grant (Penguin Classics, 1999).

The Light Of The Moon Suppressed A Roman Army Mutiny In Pannonia

By
thehistorianshut
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Shortly after the death of Augustus in 14 CE, the civilian soldiers in the three Roman legions stationed in Pannonia were incited into mutiny. Most of the known information about this event was recorded by two statesmen-historians of the Roman Empire, Tacitus (c. 56/57 – 117) and Cassius Dio (c. 163-235). Tacitus, perhaps the greatest orator of his time, gave the lengthier and more detailed account of the mutiny, but he was also known to take artistic license with some of his historical descriptions. Nevertheless, both historians claimed that the goal of the mutiny was to bring about military reforms, specifically a restriction of military service to 16 years, as well as an increase in pay from one sesterce a day to one denarius (4 sesterce) per day. Without these changes, the mutineers claimed that the excessively long period of military service, combined with the harsh discipline and severe punishments in the Roman Army, were simply unfair.

The legions in Pannonia were originally led by a commanding officer by the name of Quintus Junius Blaesus. Yet, when Augustus died, Blaesus and his staff quickly lost control of the Pannonian legions. Cassius Dio did not mention the leaders of the mutiny in his account. Tacitus, on the other hand, claimed that a charismatic soldier named Percennius, supposedly a former theater applause leader, became the first spokesman of the mutiny. Spurred on by Percennius’ speeches, the mutineers were said to have been committed enough to their cause that they were willing to escalate from mutiny into full-blown rebellion. Fortunately, when the troops were considering taking up arms against Rome, their commanding officer, Blaesus, was able to convince them to keep their mutiny peaceful. Instead of rebelling, they sent Blaesus’ son as their delegate to Rome, tasked with delivering the mutineers’ complaints into the hands of Augustus’ heir, Emperor Tiberius (r. 14-37).

1st centiry statue of Emperor Tiberius, c. 1st century, held within the Louvre Museum, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons

(1st century statue of Emperor Tiberius, c. 1st century, held within the Louvre Museum, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

Unfortunately, the Pannonian military construction crews who were out building roads and bridges near the small town of Nauportus had not received the memo about keeping the mutiny peaceful. Instead, these soldiers beat up their officers and looted the nearby settlement. When these troops returned to the main camp, Blaesus began to punish the looters, but this, in turn, riled up the rest of the mutineers, who promptly freed the military camp’s jailed prisoners.

Around this time, Tacitus claimed that another man began to assert himself as a leader of the mutineers. His name was Vibulenus, and Tacitus provided little information on his background, other than to bluntly paint him as a lying rabble-rouser. Vibulenus supposedly claimed that his beloved brother was murdered by Blaesus’ enslaved gladiators. He delivered the accusation with enough passion that his words led to the arrest of Blaesus’ whole household. Cassius Dio also confirmed this event and stated that several of Blaesus’ slaves were captured and tortured. Nevertheless, the slaves were found innocent of murder, and Tacitus followed this up by reporting that Vibulenus, in fact, did not even have a brother. Whatever the case, by this point the mutiny was back with a vengeance. Even worse, several deaths had, by now, occurred, and some of the Roman officers were either under arrest by the mutineers or in hiding.

From Rome, the events in Pannonia looked dire enough to require Emperor Tiberius to send his son, Drusus, to deal with the mutineers. Drusus was put in command of a large detachment of the Praetorian Guard and was given free reign to pacify the mutiny in whatever manner he wished. When Drusus arrived at the scene of the mutiny, the disgruntled soldiers were reportedly disrespectful, but other than that, things were generally peaceful. The two sides even began to negotiate on concessions, such as the terms of military service and pay. Yet, everything eventually collapsed into chaos. Cassius Dio claimed that the break in negotiations came simply because Drusus would not give the mutineers clear answers about how the mutiny would be resolved. Tacitus, however, wrote that Drusus stirred up the wrath of the mutinous legions by sheltering a particularly hated officer named Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus. Either way, Drusus and his Praetorians eventually found themselves besieged in their camp by the mutineers.

Carved head supposedly of Drusus Julius Caesar, exhibit in the Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, USA. [Public Domain] via Creative Commons

(Carved head supposedly of Drusus Julius Caesar, exhibit in the Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, USA. [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

It was on an exceptionally clear night during that siege that something spectacular took place in Pannonia. Tacitus must have enjoyed being able to exercise his rhetorical and literary skills to bring the odd scene to life in his Annals of Imperial Rome. He wrote that on the night when Drusus was besieged, the moon was bright and the sky was clear. Suddenly the moon began to mysteriously darken and the Pannonian soldiers saw it as an ill omen for their mutiny. Consequently, they somehow came to a consensus that their demands would only be met if the moon returned to its former brightness. At this point, Tacitus would have us believe that the mutinous soldiers began to noisily clang their metal equipment and play musical instruments in order to convince the moon to brighten. Miraculously, the moon did seem to brighten as they played their peculiar symphony, giving a great boost to the morale of the mutineers. Yet, almost immediately, the moonlight (once more) began to dim and the moon, itself, was eventually completely covered by clouds that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Tacitus claimed that this startling turn of events caused the mutineers to howl with despair and give up all hope for their mutiny. Cassius Dio summarized the scene much less dramatically, simply stating that an eclipse of the moon made the soldiers lose their nerve.

After the lunar event, the mutineers transitioned back to peaceful tactics. They ended their siege of Drusus and sent Blaesus’ son back to Rome to resubmit their list of grievances. The officers were able to regain control, and the mutineers handed over their most vocal leaders, such as Percennius and Vibulenus. Cassius Dio vaguely wrote that the mutiny’s leaders were simply punished. Tacitus, however, claimed that Drusus had the men executed and possibly left their bodies exposed as a warning. It is unclear how much the Pannonian soldiers actually gained from their mutiny. Nevertheless, a much bloodier mutiny among the legions stationed along the Rhine occurred almost simultaneously with the one in Pannonia. These German legions called for many of the same military reforms, which were ultimately granted. Tacitus wrote that Emperor Tiberius eventually extended the legions in Pannonia the same concessions that were given to the legions along the German border. Yet, after giving it some thought, Tiberius extended the term of military service back to 20 years.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Top Picture Attribution: (Moon in front of a blueish background, [Public Domain] via Pixabay.com)

Sources:

Homer

By
thehistorianshut
-

 

Homer (writing around 700 BCE)

“So you, above all, must both
give and listen to advice and carry out the suggestion that
others may feel bound to put forward in the common interest.”

  • From The Iliad (Book 9, approximately between lines 100-110) by Homer, translated by E. V. Rieu and revised by Peter Jones (Penguin Classics, 2014).

Clues To Two Possible Medieval Treasure Hordes In Iceland

By
thehistorianshut
-

 

According to the anonymous author of Egil’s Saga, there are at least two large treasure hoards buried on the west coast of Iceland. By now, the treasures, if they ever existed, have probably long been found—the treasures were supposedly buried in the 10th century, and Egil’s Saga released the general location of the buried wealth by the 13th century. Yet, no one has ever claimed to have found these two hidden hoards, so prospective treasure hunters can still hold a small, reserved glimmer of hope.

As the story goes, a man named Skallagrim fled from Norway shortly after King Harald Finehair completed his rise to power around 885, in the Battle of Havsfjord. Skallagrim, along with other family members and enemies of Harald, sailed to Iceland and settled on the shores around the Borgarfjord (modern Borgarfjörður), giving birth to multiple farming communities. In Iceland, Skallagrim farmed and made a name for himself as a smith of bog-iron, and he grew wealthy off of his industry.

While Skallagrim was content with making money through honest labor in Iceland, his sons, Thorolf and Egil, had other ideas. They both decided to sail away from their father’s settlement to become mercenaries and Viking raiders. They arrived in Norway and were able to keep a tense coexistence with the aging King Harald, and his future heir, Eirik Bloodaxe. Just like their father, the brothers soon ran afoul of the Norwegian monarchs and quickly decided to leave to find opportunities in Britain. Egil’s Saga claimed that the brothers found employment under King Athelstan (r.924-939), the first Anglo-Saxon king to effectively rule all of England. While commanding a Scandinavian mercenary band for King Athelstan, Thorolf was killed in what the saga called the Battle of Wen Heath—this is often associated with Athelstan’s victory over a coalition of Scots, Britons and Vikings in the 937 Battle of Brunanburh, yet the identification of Wen Heath is still debated. Nevertheless, following the aftermath of the battle, King Athelstan paid Egil Skallagrimsson lavishly for Thorolf’s sacrifice. He was given a large arm-ring of gold, as well as two chests bursting with silver, which he was instructed to share with his father, Skallagrim. Yet, Egil had no intention of sharing.

So, after a long period of raiding and selling his sword for hire, Egil Skallagrimsson returned to Iceland as a rich man. Unfortunately, instead of the wealthy father and the wealthy son getting along together in the community, Egil and Skallagrim seemed to covet each other’s wealth. The paranoia between the two was so severe that when Egil left for a three-night feast, the elderly Skallagrim gathered all of his wealth (supposedly in a large chest and an iron cauldron) and left in the middle of the night to hide his life’s savings in the nearby Krumskelda Marsh. After exerting himself to such an extent on that cold, Icelandic night, they say that Skallagrim’s stiff corpse was found the next morning, still sitting upright and fully outfitted in mud-stained clothes at the edge of his bed.

Egil inherited Skallagrim’s lands, as well as whatever wealth was left unburied. He eventually left Iceland and returned to his old habits of raiding and selling his services to the rulers of Britain and Scandinavia. Yet, he returned home, with even more wealth, to become a respected leader of his late father’s community around the Borgarsfjord in Iceland.

The saga claimed that at the end of the 10th century, after old Egil had become frail and blind, he followed his father’s example and decided to hide his treasure. He supposedly led two slaves, who carried his several chests of treasure, to an unknown location somewhere east of his farm. After the loot was buried, the elderly Egil summoned enough strength to murder the slaves and hide their bodies where they would never be found. Egil was said to have openly admitted to killing the slaves and hiding his treasure, but he never gave any hints as to where he stashed his hoard of wealth. That very autumn, before anyone could pry any information from him, Egil Skallagrimsson fell ill and died.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (16th Century map of Iceland produced by Abraham Ortelius (1527–1598), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

Edgar Allan Poe

By
thehistorianshut
-

 

Edgar Allan Poe (c. 1809-1849)

“A feeling, for which I have no name, has taken possession of my soul – a sensation which will admit of no analysis, to which the lessons of bygone times are inadequate, and for which I fear futurity itself will offer me no key.”

  • From Edgar Allan Poe’s “Ms. Found in a Bottle” in Edgar Allan Poe: Complete Works (JKL Classics, 2017).

The Grisly Decorations On The Gemonian Stairs In Rome

By
thehistorianshut
-

 

Around the reign of Augustus (r. 31 BCE – 14 CE), a stairway was constructed that led from the edge of the Roman Forum and ascended up the Capitoline Hill. This piece of infrastructure was known as the Gemonian Stairs or Steps (Scalae Gemoniae in Latin), and quickly gained a reputation as an infamous landmark in ancient Rome.

After the stairway was constructed, it did not take long for the location to become a frequent host to grotesque displays. Unfortunately, around the beginning of the 1st century, the Roman authorities began an unsightly tradition of using the stairway as a location to leave the exposed bodies of executed criminals. Although the steps were a depository for the disgraced dead, it was also a frequent venue for executions, in general.

The first mention of the Gemonian Stairs being used as a monument to capital punishment comes from commentary on the reign of Rome’s second emperor, Tiberius (r. 14-37). During his period of rule, it was a familiar sight to see corpses strewn along the steps. Tacitus (c. 56-117) wrote that, by the year 20, the Gemonian Stairs had become thoroughly associated with execution. During that year, when Cnaeus Calpurnius Piso was tried for the murder of Tiberius’ adopted son, Germanicus, the Roman people chose the steps as their location for a peaceful riot where they called for Piso’s execution. The Roman masses were also said to have flocked to cheer at the Gemonian Stairs more than a decade later when, in the year 31, Tiberius chose the infamous stairway as the venue for the execution of his treasonous chief administrator, Lucius Aelius Sejanus.

With the Gemonian Stairs serving such grim purposes, it is unsurprising that the path was sometimes referred to as the Stairs of Mourning. The exact location of the stairway is unknown, but many scholars believe it may have roughly lined up with the modern Via di San Pietro in Carcere, Rome.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Cropped section of a painting of The Pomekin Stairs in Odessa, published by the Detroit Publishing Company in 1905. [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

Benjamin Franklin

By
thehistorianshut
-

 

Benjamin Franklin (c. 1706-1790)

“Sell not virtue to purchase wealth nor liberty to purchase power.”

  • From Poor Richard’s Almanac by Benjamin Franklin (Seven Treasures Publications, 2008).
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