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The Story Of The Berber Queen, Kahina

In the late 7th century, there thrived a powerful Berber woman named Kahina. Also known as, Kāhinah, al-Kahina, Dahlia, Daya, Dihya al-Kahina or Dahia-al-Kahina, this intriguing woman held influence within the Berber Confederacy in the Mauretania region of North Africa. In particular, her base of power was with the Jawāra tribe in the Aurès Mountain region. By the end of the 7th century, Kahina had risen to the top of Berber society, wielding political and military authority. Yet, with power came responsibility, and in her case, the grave responsibility she inherited was to lead the Berber people in resistance against Arab invasions that were occurring during her reign.

Unfortunately, the stories recorded about Kahina were mostly written down by scholars from the cultures that invaded her realm. Furthermore, many of these scholars lived more than a century after Kahina’s own time. The Futūh of Ibn Abd al-Hakam (c. 9th century), is one of the most cited texts concerning Kahina’s reign, but even Abd al-Hakam’s account is filled with far-fetched folktales and embellishments. Nevertheless, a general outline of her reign can be pieced together.

Kahina was reportedly related to (and possibly a daughter of) the Berber leader, Kusayla b. Lamsam, who flourished in the 680s. Although Kusayla tried to coexist with the Arabs and even converted to Islam, this did not stop the Arab commander, Uqba b. Nafi, from invading Berber territory in an attempt to impose direct Arab rule over the region. Since an enemy of an enemy is a friend, Kusayla reached out to the emperor and vassals of Constantinople, who had been defending against Arab invasions for decades. With imperial support, Kusayla was able to put forward a formidable defense of the Berber Confederacy, and it would not be surprising if Kahina played a role in helping Kusayla with his achievements. In the course of his campaigns, Kusayla killed Uqba b. Nafi in a battle around 683 and forced the Arab forces to retreat. Kusayla continued to lead the Berber forces in their resistance until around 688, when he was killed during an invasion by the Arab commander, Zuhayr ibn Qays al-Balawī. There was not much time for Zuhayr ibn Qays to celebrate, however, for he, too, was reportedly killed in battle before the end of 688.

During that intermission, while the Arab and Berber forces were finding new commanders after the loss of Kusayla and Zuhayr ibn Qays, it finally came time for Kahina to ascend to power. There may have been a succession dispute or competition, but she seems to have solidified her leadership position among the Berbers by 690. Although she had big shoes to fill, she did an admirable job of reorganizing and refocusing the Berber forces in anticipation of another Arab invasion. Her opponents, however, took their time to plan and prepare before launching their next major campaign.

In 698, around a decade after the deaths of the previous leaders, Kusayla and Zuhayr ibn Qays, the Arabs launched their long-delayed invasion of the Berber Confederacy. Commanding the Arab forces was Hasan ibn al Nu’man, and he faced off against Kahina’s prepared defenses. Unfortunately, the war between the two leaders is difficult to accurately date on a timeline, and accounts of Kahina’s actions are filled with propaganda and folkloric embellishments, such as stories of Kahina having magical or supernatural abilities. Whatever the case, it was a long war with momentum shifts going back and forth; and as the conflict dragged on, the region became devastated as slash-and-burn tactics were implemented, taking a great toll on the landscape.

As the story goes, Kahina was dominant in the beginning phase of the war. When Hasan ibn al Nu’man launched his invasion in 698, Kahina was ready for a fight and was able to outplay the invaders. She managed to definitively defeat Hasan on the battlefield at least one or two times, forcing the Arab commander to retreat and regroup before continuing on with his campaign. Nevertheless, as the years pressed on and her resources dwindled, momentum began to shift. Again, the timeline is vague, but Hasan eventually backed Kahina into a corner between 702 and 705. In that window of time, Hasan won a decisive victory against Kahina’s forces, causing the Berber queen’s death. Despite her demise, the memory of Kahina, as well as her predecessor, Kusayla, continued to serve as inspiration for Berber freedom fighters. Unfortunately, later rebel figures could not reproduce the successes of Kusayla and Kahina.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Illustration from Rustam Captures the Shah of Sham and the Shah of Berber, Folio from a Shahnama (Book of Kings) of Firdausica, dated c. 1330–40, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

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Samson And Delilah, By Gerrit Van Honthorst (c. 1590-1656)

This painting, by the Dutch artist Gerrit van Honthorst (c. 1590-1656), was inspired by the Biblical story of Samson and Delilah. The first of the pair, Samson, was a legendary Israelite warrior featured in the biblical Book of Judges. As the story goes, Samson was a scourge to the Philistines, a mysterious seafaring people that invaded and settled a section of the Palestine coast around the 12th century BC, becoming a serious threat to ancient Israel. While the Philistines had formidable weaponry and an admirable military organization, the Israelites had legendary heroes. Wielding superhuman strength, Samson proved to be almost an indomitable foe for the Philistines. Yet, as the biblical story and the painting above divulge, there was an exploitable weakness to Samson’s strength—hair. If Samson’s long and braided locks were cut, then so would his strength also be shorn away. As the story goes, the Israelite warrior unwisely told this secret to a woman named Delilah, who then conveyed the secret to the Philistines and plotted with them to capture Samson. The Book of Judges described the story of what happened next:

“After putting him to sleep on her lap, she called for someone to shave off the seven braids of his hair, and so began to subdue him. And his strength left him. Then she called, ‘Samson, the Philistines are upon you!’ He awoke from his sleep and thought, ‘I’ll go out as before and shake myself free.’ But he did not know that the Lord had left him. Then the Philistines seized him, gouged out his eyes and took him down to Gaza” (Judges 16:19-21, NIV version).

Gerrit van Honthorst re-creates this scene of Delilah betraying Samson to the Philistines. As mentioned in the quote, he did not get away from the ambush. Yet, Samson would have the last laugh. As his hair began to grow back, so did his strength. With a few prayers to supplement his recovering power, he was said to have summoned enough strength to demolish the Philistine temple where he was being kept, killing himself and many of his captors.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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Alexander Hamilton

Alexander Hamilton (c. 1755/1757-1804)

“Ambition, avarice, personal animosity, party opposition, and many other motives not more laudable than these, are apt to operate as well upon those who support as those who oppose the right side of a question.”

  • From The Federalist No. 1, by Alexander Hamilton, in The Federalist Papers. Republished by the Henry Regnery Company (Chicago, Illinois, 1948).

The Story Of A Bold And Blunt Envoy At Privernum’s Surrender To Rome

Privernum, an Italian city-state, waged war against the Roman Republic between 330-329 BCE. Fighting in conjunction with their ally, Fundi, the Privernum-Fundi alliance began the war with a promising start. Vitruvius Vaccus, the commander of the alliance forces, launched attacks into the Setia, Norba and Cora regions of Rome’s territory in early 330 BCE. Nevertheless, the Roman military mobilized and finally pushed the Privernum-Fundi alliance into a defensive posture by the end of the year. Come 229 BCE, Fundi had surrendered and Privernum was under siege. That year, Privernum was finally overpowered or surrendered, and envoys from the defeated city were sent to Rome to negotiate the post-war relationship between Rome and Privernum.

With Privernum’s military defeated, its city under occupation, and its leader in Roman custody, Privernum could not bring much to the bargaining table. Nevertheless, even though Rome could have technically imposed something like an unconditional surrender, Privernum’s envoys arrived in Rome to negotiate on behalf of their city, and one particular envoy from the group was notable for his defiant spirit. The envoy in question, unfortunately left unnamed by the ancient sources, must not have been too involved in Privernum’s former wartime leadership or military command, as Vitruvius Vaccus and many of his officers would likely have already been imprisoned and executed by the Romans. Nevertheless, the envoy showed up at the hearing before the Roman senate with a forceful and uncompromising defense of the people of Privernum.

By the time the envoy spoke, there was actually not much left to negotiate. After all, Roman troops were already occupying the city and Rome had also by now condemned Privernum’s walls to be torn down. With Privernum’s independence off the table, the envoy was instead negotiating about the kinds of punishment that Privernum would receive and how the relationship between the city and its conqueror would play out in the future. As told by the Roman historian, Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE), the envoy was quite the cheeky fellow, surprising the Romans audience with his bold and unintimidated responses to their questions. When asked by the Roman about what punishments the people of Privernum thought they deserved, the envoy allegedly responded, according to Livy, with the line, “’The punishment deserved by those who think themselves worthy of freedom’” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.21). After recovering from their surprise, the Romans next asked the envoy if the people of Privernum would faithfully keep the terms and agreements that were made in the ongoing negotiations. To this question about the terms of surrender, the envoy from Privernum supposedly responded, as told by Livy, with the answer, “It you grant us a good one,…it will be loyally kept and permanent. If a bad one, it will not last long” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.21). This answer, like the last, caused shock and some anger, but a majority of the senators supposedly appreciated the envoy’s honesty.

Whether or not speeches or responses from envoys such as the one above played any role in Rome’s decision-making after the conquest of Privernum, the Romans did ultimately grant the people of Privernum with an honor that they did not always bestow on their conquests, especially with such speed. According to Livy, the Romans, after hearing from the envoys of Privernum, decided to grant the people of the city the honor of having Roman citizenship. While becoming a citizen of Rome was no small matter, it still would have been a bittersweet turn of events for the people of Privernum. After all, being violently absorbed into the Roman Republic, having your leaders executed, and watching your walls being torn down, were traumas that new citizenship could not quickly heal.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Illustration titled Humiliation of captive enemies by the yoke, from the Münchener Bilderbogen series (Braun und Schneider, 1852-1898), [Public Domain No Rights statement] via Creative Commons and the NYPL Collections).

Sources:

  • The History of Rome (Rome and Italy) by Livy, translated by Betty Radice. New York: Penguin Classics, 1982.

Alexander And Porus, By François Le Moyne (c. 1688 – 1737)

This artwork, created by François Le Moyne (c. 1688 – 1737), was inspired by a battle won by Alexander the Great (r. 336-323 BCE) near the end of his impressive career of conquests. The scene is set in 326 BCE, by which point Alexander had arrived at the borderlands of India after years of relentlessly piercing his way through the Achaemenid Empire of Persia, ultimately defeating its King of Kings and claiming its land as his own. In 326 BCE, after the Achaemenid Dynasty was toppled and other vestiges of Persian resistance were crushed, Alexander the Great set his sights on the borderlands of India, where he eventually clashed with a local king who was known to the Greeks as Porus. The opposing forces met in the Battle of the Hydaspes, named after a river commonly identified with the modern Jhelum River.

As told in an account of the battle written by the historian, Arrian (c. 90-173+), Alexander launched a three-pronged assault across the river and was able to successfully maneuver his cavalry and infantry to encircle Porus’ army. Porus had elephants on his side, but these creatures had a reputation for being fickle in battle, sometimes posing just as much of a threat to their own army as to the opposing side. Whatever the case, Alexander was able to contain and overcome the challenge posed by the elephants. Arrian described the battle:

“Among the [Indian] dead were two sons of Porus, Spiaces the local Indian governor, all the officers in command of the elephants and chariots, and all the cavalry officers and other commanders of high rank. The surviving elephants were captured…Throughout the action Porus had proved himself a man indeed, not only as a commander but as a soldier of the truest courage…It was only when he was himself wounded that he turned the elephant on which he rode and began to withdraw” (Arrian, Anabasis of Alexander, 5.18).

As is often the case with artistic renditions of the Battle of the Hydaspes, it is difficult to say which particular figure from the Indian side of the battle is being featured. Perhaps the artwork shows the death of one of Porus’ sons, or maybe the figure being carried is meant to be King Porus, himself, who suffered a non-fatal injury during the battle. Whatever the case, Alexander the Great evidently admired the Indian king and, after accepting his surrender, Alexander let Porus continue to govern the local area.

 

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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Euripides

Euripides (c. 485-406 BCE)

“All of our human life is full of pain
and there is no rest from toil.”

  • From Euripides’ Hippolytus (approximately line 190), translated by James Morwood in Medea and Other Plays (Oxford University Press, 1997, 1998, 2008).

The Myth Of Ixion Murdering His Father-In-Law Over A Horse Dispute

Ixion was a particularly unscrupulous and conniving figure from the tales of ancient Greek mythology. Although he was most famous for stories involving him disrespecting the gods, he was also quite evil to his own family. In this particular tale, it was Ixion’s in-laws who suffered because of the man’s evil behavior.

Ixion, so the ancient authors tell, was enamored with a woman named Dia—daughter of a man named Eïoneus. It is unclear how stained Ixion’s reputation was by this point of his life, but there were enough red flags to make Eïoneus hesitant about the match. Yet, greed can sometimes make people overlook their doubts and go against their principles. In Eïoneus’ case, he evidently had a weakness for fine horses, and Ixion happened to have a herd of prized mares. Ixion, by using the horses and promises of other gifts as leverage, was ultimately able to get Eïoneus to agree to the marriage between Ixion and Dia.

Words, unfortunately, do not always cause action, especially when liars and oath-breakers are involved. Eïoneus, for his part, did relinquish Dia, allowing her to marry Ixion. Yet, the father of the bride made a terrible mistake when he allowed the marriage to proceed before the horses and other presents had been transferred into the direct ownership of himself or Dia. Now that Ixion had what he wanted, with the wedding behind them and Dia moved into her new home, Ixion began ignoring Eïoneus’ questions about the status of the promised gifts. It is unclear if Ixion, over the earlier course of the marriage negotiations, had ever truly intended give direct control of any of his possessions to Dia or Eïoneus, but by this point in the timeline, Ixion wanted to delay the issue indefinitely.

Eïoneus, despite his initial accommodating and patient behavior, eventually became quite insistent that Ixion finally make good on the arrangements that they had agreed upon before the marriage. When Ixion continued to delay, Eïoneus finally decided to forcefully claim what was due, and planned to take whatever was available, even if it had to be in piecemeal fashion, starting with Ixion’s prized mares. Eïoneus was still somewhat accommodating in this repossession phase, giving his son-in-law fair warning about his intentions. Ixion, however, did not appreciate his father-in-law’s new forceful approach, and when Eïoneus arrived to take the horses, things became violent—diabolically so. On this myth and its horrible conclusion, the ancient scholar Diodorus Siculus (1st century BCE) wrote:

“[Ixion], having promised that he would give many gifts of wooing to Eïoneus, married Dia, the daughter of Eïoneus, by whom he begat Peirithoüs, but when afterward Ixion would not pay over the gifts of wooing to his wife, Eïoneus took as security for these his mares. Ixion thereupon summoned Eïoneus to come to him, assuring him that he would comply in every respect, but when Eïoneus arrived he cast him into a pit which he had filled with fire” (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History, 4.69).

So ended Eïoneus’ quest to hold Ixion to his word. Backed into a corner, Ixion channeled his inner super-villain and concocted the elaborate and brutal plan to throw his father-in-law into a pit of fire. Eïoneus, unfortunately, did not survive being pushed into the depths of the inferno. Yet, the plot was not a complete success. Ixion’s flashy scheme, with the pit, flames and smoke, was quite visible and left a great deal of evidence. The crime was quickly discovered and Ixion was easily pinned as the culprit. News of the crime spread throughout Greece, making Ixion a pariah. Nevertheless, in a bizarre twist, Ixion received a pardon or purification from the god, Zeus. Given purification, Ixion was able to resume his life of mischief and disrespect, including later affronts to his pardoner, Zeus.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribute: (Terracotta column-krater c. 430 BC, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

Sources:

  • The Library of History, by Diodorus Siculus, edited by Giles Laurén (Sophron Editor, 2014).

Zeus and Semele, painted by Jacques Blanchard (c. 1600 – 1638)

This painting, by the French artist Jacques Blanchard (c. 1600 – 1638), re-creates the tragic mythical romance of Zeus and Semele, parents of the wine-god, Dionysus. Zeus, for those who may need a refresher, was the leading god among the Greek deities. He was technically a married man, with the formidable goddess Hera being his wife, but the marriage did not stop lecherous Zeus from endlessly pursuing other women. While gratifying his desires, Zeus sometimes used courtship and other times used force or magic (often including Zeus’ ability to disguise himself by shapeshifting into objects, animals or people). Fortunately for the woman in this particular painting, she experienced the peaceful, charming, side of the god, which won her over completely. Her name was Semele, a princess of Thebes and a daughter of the famous King Cadmus. During their romance, Zeus showed Semele only kindness and tenderness—there was no force or trickery in this particular relationship. In fact, Zeus doted on the Theban princess and could not help but grant her every whim and wish. Ironically, this inability of Zeus to refuse Semele’s wishes would ultimately prove to be the princess’ undoing. As the story goes, the goddess Hera eventually (as she always did) discovered that her husband was yet again being unfaithful. Ever the wrathful goddess, Hera decided to end the dalliance by taking out Semele. To achieve her goal, the goddess planted a dangerous seed of an idea into the mind of Semele; Hera (while wearing a disguise) encouraged Semele to ask Zeus to reveal his full radiance and power. Unbeknownst to Semele, Zeus’ divine radiance was a terrifying thing to behold when it was fully unleashed, not to mention that it could also be deadly to bystanders when the lightning-god let his powers go unrestrained. Nevertheless, this was the idea that Hera planted in Semele’s head, and the princess was too curious to stop herself from asking Zeus to reveal his full might.

What happened next varied from storyteller to storyteller. Some said Semele was burnt to death by the incredible light; 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 there are many accounts of the myth of Zeus and Semele, the narrative of the mythographer, Pseudo-Apollodorus (c. 1st-2nd century), seems to fit Jacques Blanchard’s painting well. Apollodorus wrote: “Now Zeus had engaged to do whatever Semele asked, and as the result of a deception by Hera, she asked him to come to her just as he had come when he was courting Hera. Unable to refuse, Zeus came to her bedchamber in a chariot to the accompaniment of lightning and thunder, and hurled a thunderbolt. Semele died of fright…” (Apollodorus, Library, 3.4.3). Jacques Blanchard’s painting, like Apollodorus’ description, shows a regally-equipped Zeus riding to Semele’s bedchamber (albeit on a giant bird in the artwork). Zeus is seen accompanied by storm clouds and wielding a bolt of lightning. Although Semele, for her part, looks to be calm and unafraid, all variations of the myth unfortunately agreed that her encounter with Zeus would be fatal. There was, however, a silver lining—Dionysus, Semele’s son with Zeus, was salvaged from the tragic incident and was raised by the gods. According to one tradition of the Dionysus myths, Semele was later resurrected by her divine son.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

The Malleus Maleficarum

The Malleus Maleficarum (published in 1487 by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger)

“If we inquire, we find that nearly all the kingdoms of the world have been overthrown by women.”

  • From The Malleus Maleficarum (Part I, Question 6) by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, translated by Montague Summers (Dover Publications, 1971).

Emperor Nero Allegedly Murdered His Step-Brother

Infamous Emperor Nero (r. 54-68) was the adopted son and heir of Emperor Claudius (r. 41-54). Although Nero, indeed, succeeded Claudius as emperor of Rome, his ascension to the throne came after bizarre twists and turns in the love lives of the royal family members. Nero, for his part, was the son of Agrippina the Younger and Cnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus. He was technically a member of the royal family from the start, as Nero was already the great-nephew of Emperor Claudius even before the adoption occurred. Meanwhile, Emperor Claudius’ family life was incredibly troubled—he was unsuccessfully betrothed to at least two women and later married four times. Claudius’ first wife was a woman named Urgulanilla, but that marriage ended after she was charged with various crimes. Claudius’ second bride was Aelia Paetina, but they divorced for political reasons. Valeria Messalina was Claudius’ third wife, and she was with Claudius when he became emperor. Together, Claudius and Messalina had two children, a son named Britannicus and a daughter named Octavia. Yet, this marriage, too, broke down—Messalina was executed around the year 48 after allegedly having an affair and being complicit in other crimes. By this point in time, switching back to Nero’s family, Cnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus had died, leaving Agrippina the Younger a widow. In a twist of fate, Emperor Claudius became infatuated with Agrippina, and he went out of his way, breaking taboo, to make a marriage happen. Agrippina the Younger, as it happened, was Claudius’ niece, and the idea of a man marrying his own niece was so uncommon in ancient Rome that Claudius allegedly had to have it legalized before he could legitimately marry Agrippina. The emperor had his way, and he married Agrippina in the year 49 and then adopted her son, Nero, in the year 50.

Such was the odd way that Nero became an adopted son of Emperor Claudius. Yet, joining the emperor’s household and becoming heir to the throne were different matters. Here, again, Nero’s mother would play a crucial role. Under Agrippina’s influence, Claudius began to favor Nero as heir more than his own son, Britannicus, who was around four years younger than his stepbrother. Agrippina further ingratiated her son into the emperor’s family by arranging a marriage between Nero and Claudius’ daughter, Octavia, yet again cementing Nero’s high status. Finally, in the year 54, Emperor Claudius suspiciously died, allegedly after being poisoned by Agrippina. Following the emperor’s death, seventeen-year-old Nero (with the help of his mother) was able to ascend to the throne against very little resistance. As for young Britannicus, despite being displaced and disenfranchised by the machinations of his step-mother, he evidently had a good relationship with Agrippina the Younger, and she reportedly did not wish the boy any real harm.

Unfortunately, as the title of the article gave away, young Britannicus did eventually meet with an untimely demise. In the year 55, the young emperor, Nero, reportedly decided to use one of his mother’s tricks, poison, in order to remove his most dangerous potential rival—Britannicus, the biological son of Claudius. The renowned Roman historian, Tacitus (c. c. 56/57-117+), narrated the alleged poisoning in his Annals of Imperial Rome:

“It was custom for young imperial princes to eat with other noblemen’s children of the same age at a special, less luxurious table, before the eyes of their relations: this was where Britannicus dined. A selected servant habitually tasted his food and drink. But the murderers thought of a way of leaving this custom intact without giving themselves away by a double death. Britannicus was handed a harmless drink. The taster had tasted it; but Britannicus found it too hot, and refused it. Then cold water containing the poison was added. Speechless, his whole body convulsed, he instantly ceased to breathe. His companions were horrified. Some, uncomprehending, fled. Others, understanding better, remained rooted in their places, staring at Nero. He still lay back unconcernedly—and he remarked that this often happened to epileptics; that Britannicus had been one since infancy; soon his sight and consciousness would return. Agrippina tried to control her features. But their evident consternation and terror showed that, like Britannicus’ sister Octavia, she knew nothing…Britannicus was cremated the night he died. Indeed, preparations for his inexpensive funeral had already been made” (Tacitus, Annals of Imperial Rome, 13.16-17).

So ended the young life of Britannicus, or, at least, that was the predominant story accepted by the ancient Roman public and its scholarly circles. As the quote conveyed, Agrippina the Younger reportedly responded with shock and disapproval, dare we say horror, after the death of Britannicus. This dark event became a major milestone in the great schism that would eventually form between Agrippina the Younger—a domineering woman who wanted to control or advise her son’s administration—and the increasingly independent and impulsive Nero. The culmination of the divide between mother and son arrived in the year 59, when Agrippina the Younger was reportedly assassinated or executed on the order of Emperor Nero.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Death of Britannicus, by Pieter Tanjé, after Louis Fabritius Dubourg, 1743, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Rijksmuseum).

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