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The Tale Of The Golden Gear Of Rhazates

Rhazates was the name given by scholars of Constantinople to a general of the Persian army who clashed against Emperor Heraclius of Constantinople (r. 610-641) in a series of skirmishes and battles that were said to have occurred in 626. Emperor Heraclius, so the story goes, lured Rhazates into an ambush near the Great Zab River around December 12, 626. During this battle, Heraclius dealt a decisive defeat to the Persian forces and Rhazates (with many other Persian officers) was killed in battle. Curiously, if tales about Rhazates’ wardrobe are true, the Persian general’s own fashion choices may have contributed to his downfall, for he was allegedly not inconspicuous at all on the battlefield. Quite the opposite, he supposedly would have been dazzling, for Rhazates and his horse were evidently outfitted from head to toe in shining golden gear that would have been easily visible to every single glory-seeking warrior of Emperor Heraclius’ army. A chronicler named Theophanes (c. 750s-818) described Rhazates’ golden equipment in a list of items that were said to have been looted by Emperor Heraclius’ army after the battle near the Great Zab River. Theophanes wrote, “The Romans took many solid-gold swords, gold-encrusted belts, pearls, Rhazates’ solid-gold shield (which had a hundred twenty golden leaves), and his solid-gold corselet. They brought back his robe, his bracelets, his solid-gold saddle, and his head” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6118). Geared in golden armor or not, Rhazates did not survive the battle at the river.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Darius Marching to the Battle of Issus, produced by the workshop of Apollonio di Giovanni between 1450 –  1455, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Rijksmuseum).

 

Sources:

  • Theophanes, The Chronicle of Theophanes, translated by Harry Turtledove. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982.

Apollo And Daphne, By Felice Giani (c. 1758–1823)

This lightly-colored illustration, by the Italian artist Felice Giani (c. 1758–1823), depicts the red-cloaked god, Apollo, harassing a Naiad nymph named Daphne. Sitting behind them is likely Daphne’s father, a lesser river god, but he did not have enough power or supernatural influence to help his distressed daughter, who was being chased by Apollo. This tragic incident, so the ancient myths told, all began when Daphne had the misfortune of being near Apollo and the deity of love, Eros (or Cupid), while the two archer-gods insulted each other in an argument over which of them had a better claim to their favorite weapon—the bow. Apollo won the verbal debate, but Cupid was eager to seek revenge through a palpable display of his power over desire. The Roman poet, Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE) dramatically described the event:

“[Cupid] beat his wings and cut a path through the atmosphere,
nimbly alighting upon the heights of shady Parnassus.
Once there he drew from his quiver two arrows of contrary purpose:
one is for rousing passion, the other is meant to repel it.
The former is made of gold, and its head has a sharp, bright point,
while the latter is blunt and weighted with lead [on] one side of the reed shaft.
That was the arrow which Cupid implanted in Daphne’s bosom;
the other was aimed at Apollo and smote to the core of his being.
Phoebus [Apollo] at once was filled with desire, but Daphne fled
from the very thought of a lover”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, 1.466-475)

In Felice Giani’s illustration, Cupid/Eros decided to leave the scene of the crime, leaving his victims to continue their battle of escape and pursuit. According to the myth, Apollo was faster than Daphne, and he was steadily gaining ground on her. Yet, although Daphne’s physical strength and endurance was lacking, her adamant resolve to stay free of Apollo’s clutches remained unwavering. Daphne’s determination to get away, however, did not damper Apollo’s aroused mood. Ovid skillfully continued the tale:

“Flight made her all the more lovely; but now the god in his youthful
ardour was ready no longer to squander his breath on wheedling
pleas. Spurred on by desire, he followed the trail with new vigour.
Imagine a greyhound, imagine a hare it has sighted in open
country: one running to capture his prey, the other for safety.”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, 1.530-534)

In the end, the Naiad nymph had to take drastic action to escape her pursuer. As the story goes, Daphne thwarted Apollo’s desires by transforming herself into a laurel tree. Although Apollo could not fulfill his Cupid-inspired passions, his devotion to Daphne was said to have continued after her transformation through a newfound platonic affection for laurels.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

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Diodorus Siculus’ Alternate Account For The Phrixus And Helle Myth

Phrixus (or Phrixos) and Helle, according to their traditional story from Greek mythology, were a brother and sister pair forced to flee their Greek homeland of Orchomenos after suffering from a classic evil step-mother situation. Their father, King Athamas, had been turned against his children due to the machinations of his new wife, Ino. The threatened siblings, thankfully, were saved by their scorned mother, the cloud goddess Nephele, who came to the rescue of her children. Being a goddess, Nephele’s assistance naturally came in supernatural form. She arranged for a giant flying ram with a golden fleece to carry Phrixus and Helle to safety across the Aegean Sea. Tragically, Helle did not survive the journey, for she fell off of the ram mid-flight and plummeted to a watery death in a strait that would be named the Hellespont in her memory. Phrixus, meanwhile, flew on toward Colchis, where he eventually sacrificed the flying ram, and from the sacrifice of the heavenly animal came the city’s legendary Golden Fleece. Such, then, is the usual and most common storyline involving Phrixus and Helle. Yet, other peculiar variant stories existed, and one that comes to mind was that of Diodorus Siculus (c. 1st century BCE), who recorded an account of Phrixus and Helle that stripped the gods and flying rams from the tale.

Diodorus Siculus, a Greek-Sicilian historian from the 1st century BCE, took an interesting stance in his work by describing myths as true historical events, while also trying to siphon away the divine and fantastical elements from the ancient stories. Similarly, Diodorus often tried to explain away monsters and magical creatures, sometimes labeling them as real things, but stripping them of their supernatural shapes and powers. Diodorus used this tactic while describing the myth of Phrixus, Helle and their flying golden ram. According to the tale preserved by Diodorus, it was not a flying ram that allowed Phrixus and Helle to cross the sea, but instead a ship with a prow that was decorated with a Ram’s head ornament. In this second edition of the journey, Helle’s fate remained the same; this time, she fell overboard while struggling from sea sickness. After mourning her death, Phrixus and the remaining crew on the ship, continued on their way and completed their journey to Colchis. In Diodorus’ mind, the flying golden ram of the predominant myth storyline may have evolved from the more mundane tale of a ship with a ram-head decoration. Diodorus Siculus wrote, “the account of Phrixus underwent a similar working into a myth. For, as some men say, he made his voyage upon a ship which bore the head of a ram upon its bow, and Helle, being troubled by seasickness, while leaning far over the side of the boat for this reason, fell into the sea” (Diodorus Siculus, Library, 4.47). Such is Diodorus Siculus’ alternate version of the Phrixus and Helle myth.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (“So they went down to the black-sailed ship”, by Maud Hunt Squire (c. 1873-1954), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and Artvee).

 

Sources:

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

Clovis And Clotilde, By Antoine Gros (1771-1835)

This painting, by the French artist Antoine Gros (c. 1771-1835), depicts the Frankish power couple of King Clovis (r. 481-511/513) and his formidable wife, Queen Clotilde. Mighty King Clovis was the Merovingian Dynasty warlord who spread Frankish power to encompass most of France. Clotilde, before becoming queen of the Franks, had been the granddaughter of King Gundioc of the Burgundians. Upon the old Burgundian ruler’s death, the lands of Burgundy were split between Gundioc’s four sons: Chilperic (Clotilde’s father), Gundomar, Godigisel and Gundobad. The partition between the brothers, however, ended in bloodshed and civil war. By the time Clotilde had married Clovis in 493, she was already orphaned by the savage intrigue of Burgundian politics. In a ruthless power grab, Clotilde’s uncle, Gundobad, killed Clotilde’s mother and father. Clotilde understandably favored her uncle, Godigisel, over her other surviving uncle, Gundobad, and Clotilde succeeded in convincing her husband, Clovis, to offer some support to Godigisel in the Burgundian civil wars. Clovis’ brief help, however, did not stop Gundobad from ultimately slaying Godigisel and becoming the sole King of Burgundy. Queen Clotilde, besides bringing Burgundian politics into King Clovis’ household, also brought with her the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church. Clovis eventually decided to join his wife in adhering to Rome’s religious ways. Traditionally, Clovis’ baptism is dated to the year 496, soon after a military campaign against the Alemanni. Nevertheless, 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. Queen Clotilde’s last remaining uncle, King Gundobad of Burgundy, also eventually began following the Roman Catholic Church. After King Clovis died, Clotilde watched as the Frankish realm became divided and war-torn as her four ambitious sons jostled for power and territory. Queen Clotilde managed to keep a presence on the increasingly-hostile political stage of the Frankish Empire until she withdrew herself from affairs of state in 531 to focus on religion and public works. She died in 548.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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Euripides

Euripides (c. 485-406 BCE)

“A bad man’s gifts can bring no good.”

  • From Euripides’ Medea (approximately line 615), translated by James Morwood in Medea and Other Plays (Oxford University Press, 1997, 1998, 2008).

The Stressed Family Audience At Calpurnius’ Poetry Recital

A young aspiring poet named Calpurnius tried his hand at composing and performing poetry around the late 1st century or early 2nd century. After writing some verses in which he had confidence, Calpurnius decided to organize a public reading in Rome. There was evidently some buzz arising in Rome’s literary scene about the young poet, for Calpurnius drew a decent crowd to his reading event. Among others, the public reading drew the attention of the poetry enthusiast and avid letter writer, Pliny the Younger (c. 61/62-113), who made sure to attend the young poet’s oration. When he showed up and began observing the event, Pliny’s attention curiously drifted away from the young poet, Calpurnius, and instead became fixated on the poet’s family. Pliny spotted Calpurnius’ mother and brother, who were both exhibiting a great deal of visible anxiety as they watched their loved one recite poetry for the crowd. Although Pliny kept his ears attuned to Calpurnius’ oration, his eyes were observing the rollercoaster of emotions that the poet’s family was enduring as the recital took its course. Pliny made sure to take mental notes of the sights and sounds of that day and he later described the event in a letter to one of his pen pals. Pliny, a lawyer and public speaker in his own right, applauded Calpurnius’ dynamic performance with appraising compliments, such as, “he showed an appropriate versatility in raising or lowering his tone, and the same talent whether he descended from the heights to a lower level, rose to complexity from simplicity or moved between a lighter and more serious approach to his subject” (Pliny the Younger, Letters, 5.17). Pliny added further compliments, saying that the general sound of Calpurnius’ voice suited public readings and that the poet’s mannerisms and gestures while speaking where spot-on to emphasize the poetry. Pliny also described the heartwarming amusement he felt while watching Calpurnius’ family react to the oration. Pliny wrote, “his excellent mother and brother who, as a member of the audience, won as much credit…for the concern he [the brother] showed during the recital and his delight afterwards were most striking” (Pliny the Younger, Letters, 5.17). After the poetry performance was over, Pliny went to Calpurnius and his relieved family members and gave them these compliments in person.

 

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Picture Attribution: (Top of a marble funerary relief with portrait busts of a young man and an elderly woman, dated c. 138–141, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

Sources:

The Letters of Pliny the Younger, translated by Betty Radice. New York: Penguin Classics, 1963, 1969.

Between Scylla And Charybdis, By Adolf Hirémy-Hirschl (c. 1860–1933)

This painting, by the Hungarian artist Adolf Hirémy-Hirschl (c. 1860–1933), was inspired by one of the most famous scenes in Homer’s epic poem, The Odyssey.  It shows the harrowing choice given to Odysseus either to chart his course by Scylla (a man-eating monster living in a seaside cave) or Charybdis (a personified and deified whirlpool). Odysseus was briefed on these two obstacles by the goddess, Circe. On the first of the two Perils, she said:

“‘It is the home of Scylla, the creature with the dreadful bark. It is true that her yelp is no louder than a newborn pup’s, but she is a repulsive monster nevertheless. Nobody could look at her with delight, not even a god if he passed that way. She has twelve feet, all dangling in the air, and six long scrawny necks, each ending in a grisly head with triple rows of fangs, set thick and close, and darkly menacing death. Up to her waist she is sunk in the depths of the cave, but her heads protrude from the fearful abyss…” (Homer, The Odyssey, Book 12, approximately line 90).

Next, Circe told Odysseus of Charybdis, a foe that she claimed was much worse than Scylla. She explained, “A great fig-tree with luxuriant foliage grows upon the crag, and it is below this that dread Charybdis sucks the dark waters down. Three times a day, she spews them up, and three times a day she swallows them down once more in her horrible way” (The Odyssey, Book 12, approximately lines 100-110).

Odysseus decided to steer closer to monstrous Scylla instead of testing the unstable seas around Charybdis. He was able to successfully keep his ship intact as he sailed precariously between the two threats. Nevertheless, Scylla did not let Odysseus’ crew pass by her lair unscathed.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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Ovid

Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE)

“My gift
Is poetry, the praise
Of beautiful girls. I can make them immortal. Fine dresses,
Jewelry, gold, all perish. But the fame
Bestowed by my verse is perennial.”

  • From The Amores (1.10.60) by Ovid, translated by Peter Green in The Erotic Poems (Penguin Classics, 1982).

The Legend Of King Wu Ding’s Years Long Silence

In the days of the Shang Dynasty, there ruled a curious king named Wu Ding. His reign traditionally was dated to between 1324-1264 BCE, but has since been pushed forward by archaeologists to around 1238-1180 BCE. He ruled at the dynasty’s recently-built city of Yin, which had been designated as the new seat of power for the realm by Wu Ding’s uncle, King Pan Geng (r. 13th century BCE). Pan Geng was succeeded by his younger brother, Xiao Yi, who was the father of Wu Ding. When Xiao Yi died and the throne passed to his son, freshly-crowned Wu Ding was said to have taken a vow of silence as a form of ritual mourning in order honor his late father. As the story goes, Wu Ding strictly followed his vow, refusing to speak for a period of at least three years (which was a timeframe deemed appropriate for ritualistic mourning). During these years of silence, Wu Ding was able to govern his kingdom by answering questions and petitions through the means of letters and other forms of written statements. Although the king’s silence during the period of mourning was an inconvenience, the courtiers understood the situation and everyone did their best to adapt. After three years, the period of mourning was finally over and the courtiers were able to breathe a sigh of relief that their king could finally end his vow of silence. Yet, to the great confusion and shock of the court, King Wu Ding reportedly continued to strictly remain silent even after the official period of mourning had ended.

When Wu Ding’s advisers and counselors recovered from their surprise, they eventually confronted the king and asked him directly about why he persisted in remaining silent even though the period of mourning had elapsed. This tale, and the king’s response to the question, was recorded in the Book of Documents (Shang Shu), otherwise known as the Most Venerable Book, a text that has its origins in the days before Confucius (c. 551-479 BCE). The text stated, “The king rightly mourned for the prescribed period of three years. However, when this time had passed, he still did not speak. His statesmen were very worried by this and remonstrated with him…In response, the king wrote the following: ‘I do not speak because although I am the ruler of the Four Quarters I do not feel virtuous enough to tackle the tasks ahead’” (Shang Shu, chapter 21).

In order to achieve his desire to become more virtuous, Wu Ding hired at least two wisemen to be his mentors. One known advisor was a man named Gan Pan, but it was really a mysterious sage named Yue (or Fu Yue) who became the king’s chief instructor and counselor. As told in the Shang Shu, the king and the wiseman Yue began meeting for lessons about virtue at least twice every day, with the classes occurring in the morning and the evening. After being instructed about the ways of virtue in this manner, King Wu Ding eventually felt confident enough to speak.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Poets Gathering in the Orchid Pavilion, attributed to Qian Gong and dated to 1607, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

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Diogenes In The Barrel, Painted By An Unknown 17th Century Artist

This painting, by an unknown 17th-century artist, depicts a unique and peculiar philosopher from the 5th century BCE who was called Diogenes the Cynic. Originally born in the Greek-colonized city of Sinope on the Black Sea coast of Anatolia, he eventually moved to the ancient Greek intellectual hub of Athens. There, Diogenes made a name for himself by undermining and critiquing (or, you could say, belittling) the theories of other philosophers, and doing so with a great deal of showmanship. He gained a reputation for being brilliant and witty, but his pranks also often annoyed his targets and their friends. Nevertheless, he seemed to have more fans than foes.

Another interesting aspect of Diogenes’ character—which the painting highlights—was the philosopher’s adherence to an ascetic lifestyle. He was a minimalist and not picky at all about where he lived and what he ate or drank. This characteristic was summarized by Diogenes Laertius (c. 3rd century), a biographer of philosophers, who wrote, “he used any place for any purpose, for breakfasting, sleeping, or conversing. And then he would say, pointing to the portico of Zeus and the Hall of Processions, that the Athenians had provided him with places to live in… he took for his abode the tub in the Metroön, as he himself explains in his letters. And in summer he used to roll in it over hot sand, while in winter he used to embrace statues covered with snow, using every means of inuring himself to hardship” (Lives of Eminent Philosophers, 6.2.22-23). Diogenes’s portable tub home, or barrel (as it is more popularly represented) may have needed to be replaced from time to time. Yet, thanks to Diogenes’ fans and admirers, the public was said to have made sure that Diogenes was given a new tub or barrel whenever the current one broke. Describing one such occasion, Diogenes Laertius wrote, “when a youngster broke up his tub, they gave the boy a flogging and presented Diogenes with another” (Lives of Eminent Philosophers, 6.2.43). Such is the reason for why Diogenes the Cynic can be seen in a barrel in the painting above.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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