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The Death of Procris, By Benjamin West (c. 1738-1820)

By
thehistorianshut
-

Benjamin West (c. 1738-1820), an artist who was born in Britain’s North American colonies but lived in England before and after the American Revolution, made this painting about the ancient Greek myth of Cephalus and Procris. Like many other artists who painted mythological scenes, Benjamin West seems to have followed 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)

Such is the scene that Benjamin West re-created in his painting. It shows Cephalus kneeling over his mortally wounded wife. On the ground near Procris’ knees, the bloodied point of the javelin that dealt the killing blow can be seen, pointing at a trickle of blood rolling down Procris’ chest.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Livy

By
thehistorianshut
-

Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE)

“Only make a show of war and you will have peace. Let them only see you prepared for violent action and they will give you your due rights of their own accord.”

  • The History of Rome (book 6, chapter 18) by Livy, translated by Betty Radice. New York: Penguin Classics, 1982.

The Mysterious Death Of Prince Theodore Of Constantinople

By
thehistorianshut
-

Emperor Constans II of Constantinople (641-668/669), according to the historical tradition of his reign, was accused of murdering his own brother, Theodore, around the year 659 or 660. No clear account was given about how Theodore was killed or why, but the narrative presented by the chroniclers and historians of Constantinople was that Theodore was killed in some kind of plot or government action. One prominent chronicler, named Theophanes (c. 750s-818), wrote in his entry for the year Annus Mundi 6151 (659-660 CE) the following brief statement: “In this year Constans killed his brother Theodore” (Theophanes, Chronographia, Annus Mundi 6151). Unfortunately, no further information is given about the circumstances of the death. It should be noted that, due to religious issues and general tyranny in Emperor Constans II’s reign, the accounts of medieval chroniclers and historians from Constantinople were often biased and overly-hostile when discussing Constans’ actions. As such, it is difficult to say how involved Emperor Constans II truly was in the death of Theodore. Nevertheless, even if it could have possibly been rumor spread by the emperor’s enemies, the notion that Constans II had a hand in his brother’s death was an idea that festered in the minds of people in the empire, inspiring conspiracies. Indeed, the emperor was eventually assassinated by conspirators who reportedly cited the murder of Theodore as one of the reasons for the plot. Theophanes, in his entry for the year Annus Mundi 6160 (668-669 CE), wrote, “In this year the Emperor Constans was assassinated in Sicily at the Syracusan bath-house called Daphne. This was the reason: the Byzantines had hated him after he killed his brother Theodore…” (Chronographia, Annus Mundi 6160). Again, this later passage still leaves blank any detail about how and why the emperor’s brother died—the passages only divulge that Theodore died around 659 or 660, and the word around the empire was that the emperor was responsible for the death. Whatever the truth of the matter may be, questions about Prince Theodore’s death undoubtedly plagued Constans II’s reign and negatively affected his reputation and legacy.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Illustration labeled Roman Soldiers Arresting Saint Peter, attributed to an artist known as Polidoro da Caravaggio (16th century), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Art Institute of Chicago).

 

Sources:

  • Theophanes, The Chronicle of Theophanes, translated by Harry Turtledove. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982.
  • The Oxford Dictionary of Late Antiquity, edited by Oliver Nicholson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018.

Venus Tells Aeneas And His Friend Achates To Go To Carthage, Designed By Giovanni Francesco Romanelli (c. 1610–1662)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This tapestry, designed by the Italian artist Giovanni Francesco Romanelli (c. 1610–1662), was inspired by a specific scene from a poem called The Aeneid, written by the Roman poet Virgil (c. 70-19 BCE). Virgil’s poem tells the story of a band of Trojan refugees that was led by the hero Aeneas. These wanderers were forced to resettle after being defeated by the Greeks in the Trojan War. Unsure where to go, Aeneas’ crew initially sailed along the southern coastline of the Mediterranean, taking a brief rest on the Libyan coast. There, the goddess Venus (who was Aeneas’ mother) decided to intervene and encourage the Trojan refugees to set out for Carthage, ruled then by the legendary queen, Dido. As told by the Roman poet, Venus disguised herself as a huntress nymph and appeared before Aeneas and his friend Achates, acting the scene out as if she was looking for other nearby huntresses.  Virgil wrote:

“Aeneas moves out, with only Achates at his side,
two steel-tipped javelins balanced in his grip.
Suddenly, in the heart of the woods, his mother
crossed his path. She looked like a young girl,
a Spartan girl decked out in dress and gear
or Thracian Harpalyce tiring out her mares,
outracing the Hebrus River’s rapid tides.
Hung from a shoulder, a bow that fit her grip,
a huntress for all the world, she’d let her curls
go streaming free in the wind, her knees were bare,
her flowing skirts hitched up with a tight knot.”
(Virgil, The Aeneid, book 1, approximately lines 377-387).

After that peculiar method of introducing herself, Venus began regaling Aeneas about Queen Dido and the nearby realm of Carthage. When she noticed Aeneas was still unconvinced about what to do, and generally still mopey about the outcome of the recent Trojan War, Venus finally gave her son a more direct nudge toward Carthage. As told by Virgil, Venus proclaimed, “Whoever you are, I scarcely think the Powers hate you: you enjoy the breath of life, you’ve reached a Tyrian city. So off you go now. Take this path to the queen’s gates” (Virgil, The Aeneid, book 1, approximately lines 470-473). Such is the scene that is re-created in Giovanni Francesco Romanelli’s tapestry. It shows Venus, dressed as a huntress, appearing before Aeneas and his friend Achates in her effort to steer the Trojan refugees into going to see Queen Dido in Carthage. After a tragic stay with the Carthaginian queen, Aeneas and his crew would sail on to Italy, where Aeneas would play a role as an ancestor for the founding figures of early Roman legends and folklore.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

Xenophon

By
thehistorianshut
-

Xenophon (c. 420-350 BCE)

“We have much more horror of a traitor than of an enemy, since it is harder to guard against hidden dangers than open ones. And we hate traitors more than enemies, since with our enemies we can make peace and become friends again, but when we find that we have been betrayed by someone, we can never under any circumstances make peace with him and can never trust him.”

  • A History of My Times (Hellenica, II.3.29) by Xenophon, translated by Rex Warner. New York: Penguin Classics, 1966, 1979.

The Public Funeral Feast Of Marcus Flavius’ Mother

By
thehistorianshut
-

Around 328 BCE, a wealthy Roman man named Marcus Flavius threw a notable funeral event for his recently-deceased mother.  Prior to that time, Marcus Flavius’ was not well known, and his reputation mainly consisted of minor run-ins with the law, including an accusation of adultery, for which he was acquitted. This early character distinction, however, would soon be overwritten because of a lavish funeral service that he planned to throw in memory of his mother. Although he intended to honor his mother and give her a prestigious send-off, the event’s fame in Rome was actually due more so to the great amount of meat that was handed out to the public as a part of the funeral celebrations. It is unknown exactly how much meat was distributed, or to how many people the food was actually given, but it must have been significant, simply because of the impact that the curious funeral feast left on Roman history. In fact, according to the Roman historian, Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE), the funeral hosted by Marcus Flavius was one of the most memorable events that occurred that year besides the founding of a Roman colony at Fregellae. Curiously, the lavishness of the funeral celebration was later outshone by the impressive way that the funeral boosted Marcus Flavius’ reputation and propelled a future political career. On the funeral, the meat distribution, and the subsequent political ascendance, historian Livy wrote:

“[A] distribution of meat was made to the people by Marcus Flavius at his mother’s funeral. Some saw this as using the honor due to his mother as a pretext for paying off the debt he owed the people, because he had been acquitted when brought to court by the aediles on the charge of seducing a married woman. Though the meat was distributed on account of the favour previously shown him at his trial, it was also the cause of his gaining office; and at the next elections for people’s tribune he was chosen in absence, in preference to those who were canvassing for votes” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.22).

Although the cynical historical tradition claimed that the meat distribution was either something he was forced to do or a political scheme, the move was nevertheless received well by the Roman public, boosting Marcus Flavius’ name recognition and popularity. As a result, he won the election for tribune, beating other individuals who were actively campaigning for the position. If Marcus Flavius’ political victory truly did result from his meat distribution project, then the funeral event must have had quite a magnificent feast.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Cleopatra’s Banquet, by Gerard de Lairesse (c. 1641–1711), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Rijksmuseum).

 

Sources:

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

A Vestal Virgin, by Nathaniel Sichel (c. 1843-1907)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This illustration, by the German artist Nathaniel Sichel (c. 1843-1907), strives to re-create a member of the ancient Roman religious order of the Vestal Virgins. According to the ancient sources, candidates for the female-exclusive priestly office were selected when the girls were between the ages of six and ten. After being chosen, the new Vestal would be shepherded away by the pontifex maximus of Rome to join the cult of the hearth goddess, Vesta—the namesake of the order. As the Vestal Virgin title implied, the members of the order swore a temporary oath of chastity, and this vow, along with other religious duties, was no laughing matter. Vestal Virgins could be beaten for neglecting their responsibilities in the order, and if they were proven to have broken their vow of chastity, the punishment was execution. As it was taboo and sacrilegious for the blood of a Vestal Virgin to be spilled, the method of execution used against a disgraced Vestal was often horrifyingly inhumane, such as death by being buried alive (a way in which no blood would be shed). Fortunately, members of the Vestal Virgins did not spend their entire lifetime in the order. Instead, the typical amount of time that a woman spent in the order averaged around thirty years. Once they were officially out of the order, the former Vestals could marry—though most reportedly did not—and they also, unlike most other women in Rome, were able to oversee their own properties and estates without the influence of male kinsmen.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Al-Ghazālī

By
thehistorianshut
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Al-Ghazālī (c. 1058-1111)

“The sensory world is a ladder to the rational world, for, if there were no connection and relationship between the two, the way of climbing to the rational world would be blocked.”

  • From The Niche of Lights (second chapter) by Al Ghazālī, translated by David Buchman. Utah: Brigham Young University Press, 1998.

The (Mostly) Lost Myth Of Cínyras And The Temple Of His Daughters

By
thehistorianshut
-

In ancient Greek and Roman mythology, a tale existed about a certain Cínyras whose family ran afoul of the gods, ending with the man’s daughters being cruelly punished by the wrathful entities. His tale could be connected to (or be an alternative telling of) a similar Cinyras character based out of Cyprus, whose sons and daughters, and finally himself, fell victim to the gods over various sleights and crimes. Yet, the many tales of that Cinyras of Cyprus do not match with the particular tale that will be featured below about a Cínyras whose daughters were punished by magically being transformed into parts of a temple.

It was the Roman poet, Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE), who recorded the tale in question about a mysterious Cínyras and the temple of his daughters. Narrating as if Cínyras’ myth was featured on an artwork, Ovid wrote:

“[The] design showed Cínyras in his bereavement,
embracing the temple steps which had once been the limbs of his beautiful
daughters, and seeming to weep as he lay prostrate on the marble.”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, book 6, approximately lines 98-100).

Ovid’s passage is the only one of its kind about a Cínyras whose daughters were turned into marble components of a temple. Unfortunately, Ovid divulged no further information about where this particular Cínyras lived or why his daughters were transformed. Again, it is tempting to connect this man to the aforementioned Cínyras of Cyprus, whose daughters were similarly transformed by the gods as punishment (in the case of the Cyprian daughters, their transformation was usually said to have been into halcyons or kingfishers). Nevertheless, even Ovid, himself, treated the tales of these two Cínyras characters separately—for the story about the man whose daughters were turned into temple stones occurred in book 6 of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, whereas the different tales of the family on Cyprus were covered by Ovid in book 10 of his long poem. Such are the difficulties of trying to differentiate or piece together vague ancient tales.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Stage Design, Temple Atrium, by Angelo Toselli (c. 1765? – 1826), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Smithsonian).

Sources:

  • Metamorphoses by Ovid. Translated by David Raeburn. Penguin Classics; Revised Edition, 2004.
  • Apollodorus, The Library of Greek Mythology, translated by Robin Hard. New York, Oxford University Press, 1997.
  • https://pantheon.org/articles/c/cinyras.html

Photogravure Of The Last Day Of Herculaneum, Based On A Painting By Louis-Hector Leroux (c. 1829-1900)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This print, produced in the medium of a line photogravure from a steel engraving, re-creates a painting (albeit in a flipped fashion) called The Last Day Of Herculaneum by the French artist, Louis-Hector Leroux (c. 1829-1900). Herculaneum, the place referenced in the artwork, was a prosperous Roman settlement that flourished in the stretch of land situated between Mt. Vesuvius and the Gulf of Naples. The town housed an estimated population of 5,000-10,000, only around half of its nearby rival of Pompeii, but Herculaneum had more than its fair share of luxuries and public structures. The town offered something for everyone, including a palaestra for training and competition, pools for both swimming and bathing, as well as a theatre for viewing performances, and, of course, marketplaces for buying commodities and brothels for purchasing pleasure. Like Pompeii, Herculaneum and its establishments sported decorations with numerous sculptures of marble and bronze, as well as painted works of art.

As the artwork’s named settlement co-existed with nearby Pompeii, it comes as no surprise that Herculaneum, too, eventually was caught up in the catastrophic volcanic eruption of Vesuvius in the year 79, which famously destroyed Pompeii and other nearby cities, including Herculaneum. Fortunately for us, a written account produced by someone who experienced the ancient eruption first-hand still survives. The name of this ancient witness is Pliny the Younger (c. 61/62-113), whose uncle—Pliny the Elder (c. 23-79)—sadly died during the eruption. A friend of their family was the great Roman historian, Tacitus (c. 56-117+), and being his inquisitive self, he asked Pliny the Younger to write him a description of what happened during the volcanic eruption. Pliny the Younger accomplished this task by sending two separate letters to the historian, and he thankfully retained copies of the two letters for himself. Pliny’s hoarding of his own letters was important, because from Tacitus’ own writings, no information about Vesuvius can be gleaned except the faintest of references in his Histories. Instead, it was Pliny the Younger’s own personal copies of the letters that survived to become the most important eye-witness accounts of the Vesuvius eruption.

According to Pliny the Younger’s own recollection, he was seventeen years old when the Vesuvius volcano exploded. The two Plinys—Older and Younger—and their close family were staying at the nearby naval base of Misenum (modern-day Capo Miseno) at the time. In the days prior to the eruption, there had been mild earth tremors, enough to be noticeable, but not so violent as to cause alarm at the time. Yet, worry eventually began to build on an early afternoon when a strange plume of smoke began billowing out of Vesuvius, reaching great heights in the sky. Pliny wrote, “Sometimes it looked white, sometimes blotched and dirty, according to the amount of soil and ashes it carried with it” (Pliny the Younger, Letters, 6.16). Young Pliny’s influential uncle, who commanded the local fleet, quickly realized that the darkening skies boded trouble, and he rushed to mobilize the ships under his command and embark on rescue missions to help people in the endangered cities. It was a mission from which Pliny the Elder would not return.

Back in safer Misenum, the younger teenage Pliny and his mother were going through their own scary experiences. As the eruption worsened, an earthquake shook the region. Pliny the Younger wrote, “The buildings round us were already tottering, and the open space we were in was too small for us not to be in real and imminent danger if the house collapsed” (Letters, 6.20). By now, debris and smoke in the air was darkening the sky, which made the view of the volcano all the more foreboding. Pliny the Younger wrote, “Meanwhile on Mount Vesuvius broad sheets of fire and leaping flames blazed at several points, their bright glare emphasized by the darkness of night” (Letters, 6.16). From his survivable vantage point, teenage Pliny witnessed the volcano’s ash start raining down around him, covering the landscape. Writing on behalf of himself and his mother, he stated, “We were terrified to see everything changed, buried deep in ashes like snowdrifts” (Letters, 6.20). Yet, despite these memorable darkening skies, lava, fires and falling ash, something else left more of an impression on young Pliny. This was the pyroclastic flow and the waves of gas and ash that seemed to roll over the land and sea. Pliny the Younger wrote, “Soon afterwards the cloud sank down to earth and covered the sea; it had already blotted out Capri and hidden the promontory of Misenum from sight…I looked round: a dense black cloud was coming up behind us, spreading over the earth like a flood” (Letters, 6.20). This tsunami of ash buried cities, such as Pompeii and Herculaneum, killing thousands of people who had not yet fled the region. The body of Pliny the Elder was reportedly recovered two days after the eruption. This was lucky, as the remains of thousands of other victims of the volcano were entombed deep under the newly deposited ash and pumice.

Herculaneum was only rediscovered around 1709, when workers who were digging a well fortuitously struck their shovels against an ancient Roman wall belonging to the city’s amphitheater. As archaeologists began to unearth the center of the millennia-old town, they thankfully found few human remains, leading them to believe that the city had been successfully evacuated. Nevertheless, during the 1980s, excavations of the Herculaneum docks revealed at least 300 skeletons in or around the empty boathouses near the beach. As far as archaeologists have discovered, all the viable ships of Herculaneum had already departed, leaving these victims stranded on the beach with only a broken and unusable vessel at their disposal.  The ruins of Herculaneum, Pompeii and Torre Annuziata were named UNESCO World Heritage Sites in 1997. The excavation of Herculaneum, just like Pompeii, is still ongoing.

That, then, is the historical story that inspired the artwork above. Rather than show the actual close-up destruction of Herculaneum, Louis-Hector Leroux’s scene instead depicts a group of distraught Romans watching the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius from afar. Regardless of Leroux’s angle and distance, the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius was indeed the last day of Herculaneum.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

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