Lucan (c. 39-65)
“[W]hat did their children
or their grandchildren do to deserve to be born
under a despot? Were we the cowards in battle?
Did we hide our throats? For the fear of others
the penalty sits on our necks. If you were planning
to give a master to those born after the battle.
Fortune, you should have also given them a war.”
In the 660s, Emperor Constans II of Constantinople (r. 641-668) relocated himself, along with a large military force, to Italy in hopes of retaking the region from Lombard and rebel control. Constans II also wanted to use Italy, especially the island of Sicily, as a new base of operations in Constantinople’s ongoing struggle against Arab expansion. Therefore, to keep an eye on both the Lombard front in the Italian Peninsula, as well as nearby Arab activity on the North African coast, Emperor Constans II decided to situate himself centrally between the two threats and place his headquarters at the Sicilian city of Syracuse. From his Syracusan base, the emperor expanded his influence outward over the island, making efforts to solidify his control over his new island stronghold before moving on to other objectives.
While overseeing this Sicilian campaign, Constans II was reportedly ruthless and tyrannical. The Lombard historian, Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799) wrote, “having entered Sicily during the seventh indiction, he dwelt in Syracuse and put such afflictions upon the people—the inhabitants and landowners of Calabria, Sicily, Africa, and Sardinia—as were never heard of before, so that even wives were separated from their husbands and children from their parents” (Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards, 5.11). A chronicler named Theophanes (c. 750s-818) gave an alternative account of Emperor Constans’ time in Italy. Although Theophanes was a scholar from Constantinople, his descriptions of the emperor’s actions in Sicily were incredibly brief compared to Paul the Deacon’s account. Theophanes was more focused on clashes between imperial defenders and Arab invasions in the Middle East, describing these events in long detail. Between lengthy in-depth stories about the Middle-Eastern front, Theophanes would sometimes include brief updates about the emperor, such as “In this year the Emperor abandoned Constantinople and moved to Sicilian Syracuse; he wanted to transfer the capital to Rome” (Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6153 [660-661 CE]) and “In this year part of Sicily was captured and, at their wish, its inhabitants were settled at Damascus” (entry for Annus Mundi 6155 [663-664 CE]).
Theophanes, unfortunately, gave no further information or contexts about the mysterious people in Sicily who were captured and sent, reportedly by their own choice, to the curious destination of Damascus. The choice of Damascus was especially intriguing, as it had been under Muslim control since the 630s and was the city used as a principal residence and administrative center by the powerful Umayyad Dynasty leader, Mu’awiya (r. 661-680). Perhaps, some of the people who decided to settle near Damascus were the individuals, mentioned by Paul the Deacon, who had been separated from their families. Whatever the case, in Theophanes’ account, Emperor Constans II was not mentioned again in the chronicle until the entry for 668, when the emperor was assassinated by dissidents at Syracuse.
Written by C. Keith Hansley
Picture Attribution: (Portraits of Emperor Constantine III and his son Constans II, made by Joos Gietleughen between 1557 and 1559, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Rijksmuseum).
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This painting, by an unknown 17th-Century artist, depicts the ancient god of vegetation and wine, Bacchus (to the Romans) or Dionysus (to the Greeks). Bacchus/Dionysus was presented various ways by ancient artists, and this artwork opted for the common depiction of Bacchus or Dionysus as a handsome youth, which was Rome’s preferred way to portray the god. For artists re-creating mythical scenes, the Roman poet, Ovid (c. 43 BCE-17 CE), often was the go-to inspiration for their artworks. This is likely the case, too, for the artwork featured above and other similar artworks of Bacchus. Ovid’s description of Dionysus/Bacchus in his youthful state was as follows:
“Father of revels and cries ecstatic, Mystic Iácchus,
and all the other numberless names which Liber is known by
throughout the cities of Greece. For yours indeed is unperishing
youth and eternal boyhood. You have the comeliest form
of all the gods of Olympus, a face in your hornless epiphany
fair as a virgin girl’s.”
(Ovid, Metamorphosis, 4.15-20)
Such, then, is the ancient god and his youthful description that the artist strove to reproduce in his artwork. Again, it should be said that this youthful form was not the only persona that Bacchus adopted in his travels and adventures—he was also commonly displayed as an older pot-bellied and bearded man. Most painters, however—including the creator of the artwork featured above—opted for the more aesthetic picture of youth.
Written by C. Keith Hansley
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James Madison (c. 1751-1836)
“The instability, injustice, and confusion introduced into the public councils, have, in truth, been the mortal diseases under which popular governments have everywhere perished; as they continue to be the favorite and fruitful topics from which the adversaries to liberty derive their most specious declamations.”
Italy was an interesting place in the 330s BCE. The major regional powers of Rome (in central Italy) and the Samnite Federation (more toward the heel of the peninsula) were engaging in a precarious diplomatic dance at that time, sometimes being allies, and other times being neutral to each other, while also remaining hostile enough to break out into constrained wars over conflicts involving their respective allies and protectorates. Adding to the tense atmosphere was a resurgence in Greek involvement in Italy led by King Alexander of Epirus. He arrived in Italy around 334 BCE to aid the Greek colonial city of Tarentum. He campaigned on multiple fronts, battling the Samnites, as well as other enemies of Tarentum, such as the Lucanians and Bruttians. Meanwhile, Rome was expanding its influence by conquest and diplomacy. Prior to Alexander of Epirus’ death in 331 BCE, Rome had successfully campaigned against the territories of the Ausones and the Sidicini. By 330 BCE, while the Samnites were recovering after their war with Alexander of Epirus, Rome added the cities of Fabrateria and Lucania to its growing list of protectorate or subject states. Rome’s continuing growth and the Samnite Federation’s recovery put other nearby city-states, such as Privernum and Fundi, into the situation of being between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Around 330 BCE, knowing that Rome or the Samnites could likely target them soon, Privernum and Fundi banded together and evidently decided to strike first and fight on their own terms.
As Privernum had long been a foe of Rome (wars were fought between them in the 350s and 340s BCE), it is not surprising that the Privernum-Fundi alliance ended up going to war against the Romans. The leader of the underdog alliance was reportedly a man named Vitruvius Vaccus, a wealthy and renowned individual who previously had good relations with the Romans. Vitruvius’ decision to lead the alliance came at a great financial cost, for he was said to have been the owner of a luxurious and treasure-filled home on Rome’s Palatine hill. This home, unless he emerged victorious against the Romans, would be forfeited as soon as Vitruvius Vaccus led the forces of Privernum and Fundi against Rome. Nevertheless, this was a sacrifice that Vitruvius was willing to make.
Vitruvius Vaccus and the Privernum-Fundi forces began their campaign boldly and with great ambition. On this initial phase of the campaign, the Roman historian, Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE), wrote, “He was effecting widespread destruction in the territory of Setia, Norba, and Cora when [the Roman consul] Lucius Papirius marched out against him and took up a position not far from his camp” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.19). It is vague whether or not Vitruvius was leading a multi-prong invasion or was simply roving with one army from one region to another, but in the end, his forces were eventually intercepted and blocked by Roman troops led by Lucius Papirius.
Vitruvius Vaccus and the Privernum-Fundi forces, despite their earlier boldness, evidently reassessed the situation at this point and concluded that they could not defeat the nearby Roman forces in pitched battle. Therefore, Vitruvius switched into a defensive posture and began an orderly retreat back to Privernum. Lucius Papirius and his personal command of Romans followed Vitruvius back to Privernum, besieging the city while the opposing army was within the walls. Lucius Plautius Venox, the other Roman consul at that time, meanwhile took a separate Roman army and marched against Fundi. That region had apparently lost its nerve once news had spread that Vitruvius had been pushed back to Privernum. As a result of this wariness, the leaders of Fundi sent diplomats to make peace with the Romans before any further battles were fought. Livy, in his account, claimed that the people and leader of Fundi were forgiven by Rome. Yet, Livy also acknowledged that there were other variants of the tale in which leadership figures from Fundi were said to have been executed. Whatever the case, the region of Fundi was no longer a threat to Rome and Plautius led his army to join with Lucius Papirius’s forces at the siege of Privernum.
By ancient standards, the siege of Privernum lasted a relatively long time. Roman troops remained camped outside the hostile city into the next year, overlapping with the Roman election process. In 329 BCE, the new Roman consuls, Lucius Aemilius Mamercinus and Gaius Plautius, took power and mobilized an additional fresh army. This newly mustered force was supposedly called up in response to reports of an incoming Gallic army. Nevertheless, no Gauls appeared and the army was instead rerouted to reinforce the siege of Privernum. Whether or not the Gallic scare was real or manufactured, the additional army seemed to be just what the siege of Privernum needed, and the city fell before the end of the year. Unfortunately, exactly how the war ended was not recorded clearly in history, and even the ancient Roman historian, Livy, did not attempt to pick a side in the varying stories. He wrote, “From this point the tradition is divided. Some say that the town was taken by storm and Vitruvius was taken prisoner alive; others that before the final assault the inhabitants came out bearing a herald’s staff and gave themselves up to the consul, and that Vitruvius was handed over by his own people” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.20). Differing details aside, all the storylines agreed that Privernum ultimately was defeated by Rome and that Vitruvius Vaccus was taken alive into custody.
After the war, the walls of Privernum were torn down and Vitruvius Vaccus was transported back to Rome, where triumphal parades were thrown in celebration of the Roman victory. Unfortunately for the captured commander of the defeated Privernum-Fundi forces, he and other identified leadership figures were scheduled to serve as one of the main attractions of the festivities. As told by Livy, “Vitruvius was to be held in prison until the consul’s arrival and then be flogged and executed…Plautius had held his triumph. After this Vitruvius was executed along with his partners in crime” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.20). As for Vitruvius’ property in Rome, the wealth from his home on the Palatine hill was confiscated and then the building was demolished. As the story goes, the site of his home became a park or shrine for the Sabine god, Semo Sangus (also known as Dius Fidius)—a deity overseeing oaths. Bronze goods from Vitruvius’ estate were used to furnish a preexisting shrine of Semo Sangus that was near the temple of Quirinus in Rome. Vitruvius’ property on the Palatine hill eventually became known as the Meadows of Vaccus.
Written by C. Keith Hansley
Picture Attribution: (Illustration labeled Storming of a city, by Heinrich Leutemann (c. 1824-1905), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the NYPL).
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This painting, by the Dutch artist Arie de Vois (c. 1631/1634-1680), depicts the deadly end to the tragic myth of Cephalus and Procris. Like many other artists who painted mythological scenes, Arie de Vois decided to follow the account of the Roman poet Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE). The poet’s account actually combined the tales of two different Cephaluses. Ovid’s first ingredient in his tragic concoction was the myth of Hermes’ son, Cephalus, who became the lover of the goddess, Dawn (Eos or Aurora). This tale was blended with a separate myth about a different Cephalus (fathered by King Deionus of Phocis), who married the Athenian princess, Procris. Ovid wove the two narratives together by rewriting the story to have Procris’ husband be abducted by Dawn. Cephalus eventually broke free from Dawn and returned to his wife, but not before he had allowed himself to be unfaithful. Projecting his own weakness onto his wife, Cephalus feared that his beloved Procris might have also lapsed into infidelity during his absence. The mutual suspicions that resulted from Cephalus’ divine dalliance led to husband and wife taking a break from one another, with Procris momentarily running off to join the huntresses of the goddess Artemis (or Diana). Yet, Cephalus eventually won back Procris’ trust and she returned to resume married life.
As a reconciliation gift, Procris gave her husband presents of hunting gear, including a fine javelin. These gifts, however, would bring about tragedy. Putting his presents to good use, Cephalus started spending more and more time out hunting. He spent so much time out in the wilds that Procris soon began to question if her husband might be chasing something other than wild game during his absences. As had happened with Cephalus before, Procris let her fears get the better of her, and she ultimately decided to stealthily spy on her husband during one of his hunting trips. Ovid, narrating through the viewpoint of Cephalus, described the sad story of what happened that day:
“Another disturbance, this time the rustle of fallen leaves.
A beast on the prowl, I decided, and sent my javelin flying.
Procris was there under cover and, clutching her wounded breast,
cried out in pain. When I recognized the voice of my faithful
wife, my own wife, I rushed like a madman towards the sound.
I found her dying, her clothes all stained and spattered with blood”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, 7.840-845)
It is this scene that Arie de Vois re-created in his painting. The artwork shows the moments after Cephalus threw his javelin and subsequently rushed after it when he eerily heard the sounds of his wife crying out in pain. We, like Cephalus, are confronted with the sight of dying Procris, who has been mortally pierced by the thrown spear.
Written by C. Keith Hansley
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Mark Twain (c. 1835-1910)
“I have noticed my conscience for many years, and I know it is more trouble and bother to me than anything else I started with.”
Semele, a princess of Thebes and a daughter of the famous King Cadmus, was famously said to have died while she was pregnant with Dionysus, the son of Zeus. As the story goes, the princess’ death came after Zeus’ wrathful wife, Hera, tricked Semele into asking Zeus to reveal his full radiance and power. This was a fatal request. What happened next varied from storyteller to storyteller. Some said Semele was burnt to death by the incredible light of Zeus’ unleashed aura; others claimed she was struck dead by stray lightning. Another variation said Semele did not directly die from Zeus’ power, but that she instead died of fright or a heart attack in response to seeing Zeus’ in his full regalia and radiance. Although Semele did not survive the incident, Dionysus—Semele’s son with Zeus—was salvaged from the tragic incident and was raised by the gods.
Dionysus, as a son of Zeus, inherited great power. After he grew up and honed his godly abilities, Dionysus gained enough might and influence to start contemplating ways to free his mother, Semele, from the underworld. To complete this goal, Dionysus was said to have traveled into the underworld and negotiated with Hades to come to some agreement about letting Semele leave the realm of the dead. Dionysus, a powerful god in his own right, was able to sway Hades, the ruler of the underworld. Yet, Semele’s resurrection apparently came with some conditions. First, she needed to take a new name—Thyone. Second, she would need to go live on Olympus or some other heavenly location, presumably so that her unnatural resurrection would not confuse human events. On this rescue mission carried out by Dionysus, a mythographer known as Pseudo-Apollodorus (1st-2nd century) wrote, “after he had brought his mother up from Hades and named her Thyone, he ascended to heaven in her company” (Apollodorus, Library, 3.5.3). Therefore, mother and son were finally reunited. Although Hera likely was not pleased by the entrance of Zeus’ former lover into the exclusive realm of the gods, Dionysus and Zeus were apparently able to ensure that Semele/Thyone was able to live in peace and security during her second life.
Written by C. Keith Hansley
Picture Attribution: (Terracotta neck-amphora depicting Dionysus between a satyr and maenad, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).
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This painting, by an unidentified 17th-century artist, was inspired by the historical baptism of King Clovis (r. 481-511), a formidable warlord who consolidated the Merovingian Dynasty’s power over the Franks and spread Frankish influence to encompass most of France. What made King Clovis’ baptism such a significant event was the king’s decision to be baptized into the Roman Catholic Church, as opposed to the Arian sect of Christianity that was popular with other Germanic peoples of that time. Traditionally, Clovis’ baptism is dated to the year 496, soon after a military campaign against the Alemanni. Nevertheless, as historians are wont to do, this traditional date has been contested, and proposals have been made to push the date of the baptism to a later period in King Clovis’ reign. The ceremony was carried out by Saint Remigius, bishop of Rheims. Decades after the event, Bishop Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594) wrote an account of Clovis’ baptism in his Ten Books of Histories, also commonly known as the History of the Franks, in which Bishop Gregory commented:
“The public squares were draped with coloured cloths, the churches were adorned with white hangings, the baptistry was prepared, sticks of incense gave off clouds of perfume, sweet-smelling candles gleamed bright and the holy place of baptism was filled with divine fragrance. God filled the hearts of all present with such grace that they imagined themselves to have been transported to some perfumed paradise. King Clovis asked that he might be baptized first by the Bishop. Like some new Constantine he stepped forward to the baptismal pool…As he advanced for his baptism, the holy man of God addressed him in these pregnant words: ‘Bow your head in meekness, Sicamber. Worship what you have burnt, burn what you have been wont to worship” (Gregory of Tours, History of the Franks, II.31).
It is this scene that inspired the painting featured above. King Clovis can be seen undergoing his baptism at the hands of Bishop Remigius of Rheims, surrounded by a crowd of spectators. The onlookers, however, were more than just an audience. As the story goes, 3,000 of King Clovis’ followers were also baptized on that day.
Written by C. Keith Hansley
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Alexander Hamilton (c. 1755/1757-1804)
“It was also peculiarly desirable to afford as little opportunity as possible to tumult and disorder. This evil was not least to be dreaded in the election of a magistrate, who was to have so important an agency in the administration of the government as the President of the United States.”
