Home Blog

The Raucous Rise Of Emperor Leo III

By
thehistorianshut
-

The future Emperor Leo III of Constantinople (r. 717-741) was born near what is now Kahramanmaraş, Türkiye, and heralded from the Isaurian stock of south-central Anatolia (hence the name of the Isaurian Dynasty he founded). and his family was relocated to Thracian Mesembria during the first reign of Emperor Justinian II of Constantinople (r. 685-695). Leo’s childhood and young adulthood remain relatively obscure, but according to the chronicler Theophanes (750s-818), Leo and his family did well for themselves in Mesembria, acquiring wealth and influence. During the time when Emperor Justinian II was subsequently displaced by Leontios (r. 695-698) and then Tiberius III (r. 698-705), Leo grew to possess the prestige required to gain an audience with emperors, and he had the means to throw material support behind factions of his choosing. Consequently, when Justinian II later returned (with Bulgarian allies) to seize back his throne from the usurpers in 705, young Leo was able to raise imperial eyebrows by allegedly donating 500 sheep to Justinian’s war effort. Impressed by the gesture, Justinian II granted Leo the title of spatharios (or sword-bearer) and recruited him to serve as one of his officers. On this, Theophanes wrote, “When Justinian came there with the Bulgars during his second reign, Leo met him with a gift of five hundred sheep. Flattered, Justinian made him a spatharios on the spot and judged him a true friend” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6209). After that fortuitous meeting, Leo was reportedly dispatched by Emperor Justinian II (r. 685-695, 705-711) to the Caucasus region, where he was involved in supporting the Byzantine-aligned Alans (or Alani) against the Arab-allied Abasgians.

Leo’s adventures in Abasgia were a complex and complicated saga, and there is difficulty discerning the true history from the encompassing folklore and legend of that period. Nonetheless, according to the narrative told by the chronicler Theophanes, Leo and the Alans concocted a plan to trick the Abasgians into believing that the Alans would betray Leo and the empire. The scheme, so the story goes, was for Leo to be handed over to the Abasgians as a sign of good will and partnership, after which the Alans (on the pretense of now being an Abasgian ally) would clandestinely scout out the lands and defenses of Abasgia. Prompt in their scouting, the Alans were able to ambush the Abasgian convoy that was transporting Leo, and they successfully freed him before he could be moved to a secure location. On the trickery and the surprise assault, Theophanes wrote: “The Abasgians’ envoys took the spatharios and his men, bound them, and went off. The Alans and their lord Itaxes overtook the Abasgians from behind; they killed them and hid Leo. Once they had levied troops, they marched on Abasgia and unexpectedly penetrated its passes. They took a great number of prisoners and worked destruction on the Abasgians” (Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6209). Suffice it to say, the Alan war against Abasgia went extremely well. But the recognition that Leo gained from his involvement in the campaign came at a price, because Emperor Justinian II was a paranoid man who grew increasingly tyrannical after all of the betrayals he faced in his troubled life. Leo, sensing that his successes and popularity might make him a target of the suspicious emperor, allegedly began surveying the region for safe havens.

Around the same time when Leo was involved in the Abasgian campaign, Emperor Justinian II had also reportedly dispatched some troops to assault Arab positions in Lazica (the eastern coastlands of the Black Sea region, approximately the western half of the modern country of Georgia). Whereas the Alan campaign against Abasgia had gone well, the raids against Lazica played out abysmally, and as a result of the chaos, around 200 members of the dispatched force became caught in the nearby Caucasus Mountains, where they sustained themselves through banditry. Refocusing on Leo, when he learned he was at risk of becoming a target of Emperor Justinian’s suspicion and paranoia, it was to this band of mountain-dwelling brigands that Leo reportedly turned.

Disregarding instructions from Emperor Justinian II to return home through Abasgia, Leo and some Alan guides instead reportedly trekked over the Caucasus Mountains to find the camp of the 200 stranded warriors. As told by Theophanes, Leo “took fifty Alans and crossed the peaks of the Caucasus with snowshoes (in May!). He found the men and joyfully asked them, ‘Where is your army?’” (Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6209). There, with that band of rugged mountaineers, Leo’s alleged adventures became even more grandiose.

Leo, after reportedly placing himself in command of the troops of the mountain camp, set his eye on a nearby Arab-aligned fortified position called Sideron. There, a commander named Pharasmanios, led a garrison that manned a formidable fortress. As the story goes, Leo and his small army laid siege to Sideron, and managed to do so in a way that never revealed their small numbers. At that same time, Leo reportedly made contact with a leader named Marinos, from Apsilia (another land from the eastern Black Sea region of Lazica), and recruited him as an ally. Although Marinos, at first, was also kept unaware of Leo’s manpower shortage, the Apsilian turned out to be a great partner in Leo’s time of need.

Marinos brought troops to reinforce Leo’s difficult siege of Sideron, and Marinos’ presence reportedly convinced Pharasmanios to surrender the fortress. Yet, Leo had no intention of occupying the fort with his meagre band of warriors. Instead, he reportedly decided to burn the place to the ground and then withdrew with his new friend, Marinos, to Apsilia. From there, Leo was able to assess the mood of Emperor Justinian II and orchestrated for himself a relatively safe reintroduction to the imperial court of Constantinople. On these events, Theophanes wrote, “he ordered the citadel [of Sideron] set afire. There was a great conflagration; the families came out, snatching up whatever they could of their property. After they spent another three days there, the troops razed the fort’s walls to the ground. With the Apsilian leader Marinos they went to Apsilia, where the Apsilians received them with great honor. From there Leo went to the coast, crossed, and went to Justinian” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6209).

Despite Leo’s earlier fears about Justinian II, the returned officer faced no known punishment, harassment or legal issues from the emperor. The only sign that Justinian II may have been displeased with Leo was the poignant absence of any new tasks or appointments of note given to him by the emperor. Ironically, this could have been a blessing, as Leo was able to remain safely out of sight and mind during the chaotic time when Emperor Justinian II was subsequently overthrown by the rebel, Philippikos (r. 711-713), whose power was then usurped by Emperor Anastasius II (r. 713-715). It was the latter ruler, Anastasius II, who brought Leo back to the forefront of leadership, appointing him as the military leader and governor (or strategos) of the empire’s Anatolic region (or theme). This point in the narrative, it should be noted, is when Theophanes’s account of Leo’s origin starts to become truly verifiable and cross-checkable.

Upon his appointment as a governor in Anatolia, Leo was loyal to Emperor Anastasius II, but the ruler was soon ousted by a rebellion that put Emperor Theodosios III (r. 715-717) on the throne. Leo refused to recognize Theodosios as a legitimate ruler and immediately launched a rebellion of his own. Leo also enticed his son-in-law, Artavasdos (strategos of the Armeniac Theme), to join him in the revolt. The timing of their rebellion could not have been better, for it occurred at a moment when Umayyad Arab incursions into the imperial realm of Constantinople were increasing in intensity, placing Emperor Theodosios III and his lands in real peril. The rebels and the Arabs had a tense truce, and Leo and the leaders of the nearby invading armies frequently exchanged correspondence. Yet, the rebel general feared being captured and exploited as a puppet by the Arabs, so he remained wary in his movements and tried to keep his distance from the Umayyad forces. Leo, avoiding Arab armies and loyalist forces of Theodosios, was able to weave his way to the city of Nikomedeia, where he reportedly managed to capture the emperor’s son. Leveraging this abduction, Leo convinced Theodosios III to renounce his claim to the throne, as well as that of his son, and abdicate in favor of Leo. On this, Theophanes wrote:

“…Leo went to Nikomedeia. He met Theodosios’ son and captured him, the entire imperial retinue, and the palace’s leading figures. The general took counsel with his men; he took the Emperor’s son to Chrysopolis as a prisoner…When Theodosios learned what had happened he consulted the patriarch Germanos and the senate. Through the patriarch he received a pledge from Leo that he would not be harmed and that the church would not be disturbed, and on those terms entrusted the Empire to him. Theodosios and his son became clerics, and lived out the rest of their lives in peace” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6208 [Sep 715-Aug716]).

Thus, Emperor Leo III (r. 717-741) assumed the throne, ushering in the Isaurian Dynasty that would dominate Constantinople for the rest of the century. Dynastic legacy aside, the inaugural years of Leo’s reign would be a challenge, as the Arab forces in the region converged on Constantinople to besiege the imperial city between 717-718. Using Constantinople’s formidable Greek Fire, the imperial navy was able to break through the siege just in time to confront and suppress a rebellion that broke out in Italy. The rebellion was thwarted and the conspirators were rounded up by 719, earning Leo and his empire some much-needed peace and stability. Leo’s path to power was truly a raucous and chaotic rise to the top.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Tremissis (Coin) of Leo III, dated between 720–741, [Public Domain] via 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.
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Leo-III

Abduction Of The Sabine Women, By An Unknown 16th Or 17th Century Artist

By
thehistorianshut
-

This rather damaged painting by an unknown 16th or 17th century artist re-creates an infamous legend from the history of ancient Rome. Specifically, it envisions Rome’s legendary founder, Romulus (traditionally dated to the 8th century BCE), carrying out his premeditated plot to abduct untold numbers of Sabine women. According to the Roman historian, Livy (59 BCE-17 CE), Romulus recognized that the greatest existential threat to the fledgling city of Rome was that “There were not enough women,” and that without boosting the female population of the fledgling city-state, Roman “greatness seemed likely to last only for a single generation” (Livy, Roman History, 1.9). In true ancient tribal warfare fashion, Romulus decided that the best way for Rome to increase its female population was to abduct women from neighboring regions. After surveying his options, Romulus chose to target the nearby Sabine settlements.

Rather than mobilize his forces to raid foreign territory, Romulus instead took the opposite route and decided to lure his victims to Rome. To fulfill this scheme, Romulus and his people advertised to neighboring settlements that Rome would be hosting a religious festival. The ploy worked, and the deceitful news of Rome’s upcoming festivities piqued the interest of the Sabine community. Whole families visited Rome on the appointed day to partake in the religious worship and the accompanying entertainments that had been promised. The hoped-for day of family fun, however, turned into an infamous incident of chaos and trauma. As narrated by the historian Livy, “at a given signal all the able-bodied [Roman] men burst through the crowd and seized the young women. Most of the girls were the prize of whoever got hold of them, but a few conspicuously handsome ones had been previously marked down for leading senators, and these were brought to their houses by special gangs” (Roman History, 1.9). It is this scene that the unknown artist re-created in his painting.

Understandably, the actions of Romulus and his Romans enraged the Sabines, and war quickly erupted between the two peoples. Nevertheless, the Sabine women, who after the initial shock of abduction had begun to accept life in Rome, were conflicted by the war. According to legend, the Sabine women rushed out onto the battlefield, and putting themselves between the two armies, they forced the Romans and the Sabines to make peace and unite.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Virgil

By
thehistorianshut
-

Virgil (c. 70-19 BCE)

“Fortune befriends the bold.”

  • This quote comes from approximately line 284 of Book 10 from Virgil’s Aeneid. The translation used here is by John Dryden and edited by Charles Eliot in The Harvard Classics: Virgil’s Aeneid (P.G. Collier & Son, 1937). It is a variant of the popularized Roman proverb, “Fortune favors the bold.”

Alternate translations of the same line include:

“Fortune speeds the bold!”
-From The Aeneid (Book 10, approximately 340) by Virgil, translated by Robert Fagles (Penguin Classics, 2010).

“Fortune favours the brave.”
-Vergil, Aeneid, A Translation into English prose by A. S. Kline (2002)

“Fortune will help the brave.”
-Vergil. Aeneid. Theodore C. Williams. trans. Boston. Houghton Mifflin Co. 1910. (via Perseus.Tufts.edu)

“Fortune aids daring.”
-Virgil, Aeneid (Book 10, between lines 262-296), translated by J. W. Mackail (dated 1885) via Project Gutenberg.

Were Music Competitions Once Part Of The Olympic Games?

By
thehistorianshut
-

Ancient Greece’s Olympic Games were part of a large religious festival honoring the god, Zeus. They were hosted in the hilly environs of Olympia, along the Alpheus River in the region of Elis, and the Olympic administrative offices for the Games were located in Olympia’s Altis precinct, where the temples of Zeus and Hera were located. Traditionally, the Games were said to have been founded in the times of myth and legend, attributed to figures such as King Pelops (who lent his name to the Peloponnese and won a chariot race in his myths) or his famous descendant, Heracles, the mighty demigod adventurer. Myth and legend aside, the first properly documented Olympic Games sport event reportedly occurred in 776 BCE (considered the 1st Olympiad), at a time when only a sprinting competition (the stadion) took place. In the decades that followed, different types of foot and horse races, as well as wrestling, boxing, pankration (or pancratium) fighting, and other competitive events were soon added to the great festival. The vast majority of the competitions were sports, but every now and then it was not unheard of for a non-athletic contest to make an appearance in the ancient Games. Curiously, musical competitions appeared several times.

One great source for the ancient Olympics, the early Olympic champions, and their respective events, is the Palestinian–Roman historian, Eusebius (c. 260-339 CE), who recorded centuries-worth of Olympic competitions and champions in his Chronicon (or Chronicle). He mainly chronicled the winner of the stadion for each Olympiad, but the historian also made sure to note any time a new Olympic competition was added to the Games, or when anything truly spectacular took place, such as when an athlete triumphed in multiple events, or if there were crimes or scandals that occurred. It is in this context that musical events were mentioned in connection with the Olympic Games.

According to Eusebius’ list of Olympic competitions, the 26th Olympiad (676 BCE) may have played host to a curious competition for citharodes, namely bards who were masters of the cithara (a lyre-like string instrument). For full disclosure, this is the most dubious of the potential Olympic musical events. Nevertheless, this is what Eusebius wrote: “[26th Olympiad] Callisthenes of Laconia, stadion race. Philombrotus of Laconia won the pentathlon at three Olympic games. The Carneia, a contest for citharodes, was held for the first time” (Eusebius, Chronicle, Book II, The Greek Olympiads, entry for 26th Olympiad/676 BCE). The mention of the Carneia (or Carnea) is curious, as that was the name of a Dorian Greek festival honoring Apollo—specifically his form as Apollo Carneius (in which the god is depicted with a cithara or lyre). The Carnea festival was known to have been held in multiple cities, but Sparta was the location most associated with the celebration. Unfortunately, the Carneia festival remains largely obscure, but it is known to have featured music competitions and a running event. With this in mind, it is possible that Eusebius’ reference to citharodes and the Carneia during the 26th Olympiad may have been an allusion to an outside historical event, placed there for context and timeline purposes. Then again, it could be that a music competition or the Carneia footrace took place at the Olympics that year. Either way, the passage is vague.

More certainty can be found in the 96th Olympiad (396 BCE). That year saw the bizarre inclusion of contests for trumpeters and heralds in the Olympic Games. This was recorded by Eusebius, who wrote: “[96th Olympiad] Eupolemus of Elis, stadion race. A contest for trumpeters was added, and the winner was Timaeus of Elis. A contest for heralds was added, and the winner was Crates of Elis” (Eusebius, Chronicle, Book II, The Greek Olympiads, entry for 96th Olympiad/396 BCE). In this section of the chronicle, Eusebius was clearer. He specifically wrote that the competitions for trumpeters and heralds were “added,” insinuating that it was added to the Olympic Games. Also unlike with the citharodes and the Carneia, Eusebius was now able to provide the names of the winners of the events, with Timaeus of Elis emerging as the greatest trumpet player and Crates of Elis defeating his rival heralds on the Olympic stage.

Citharodes and heralds made a reappearance in another Olympics. In 65 CE, Emperor Nero (r. 54-68) called together the games of the 211th Olympiad, and he featured many of the unorthodox Olympic events. The great Roman historian, Tacitus (c. 56/57-117), wrote a scathing, unflattering account of Nero’s personal involvement in such competitions. He wrote:

“The five-yearly Games were now close. The senate tried to avert scandal by offering the emperor, in advance, the first prize for song, and also conferred on him a crown ‘for eloquence’ to gloss over the degradation attaching to the stage. But Nero declared that there was no need for favouratism or the senate’s authority; he would compete on equal terms and rely on the conscience of the judges to award him the prize he deserved. First he recited a poem on the stage. Then, when the crowd shouted that he should ‘display all his accomplishments’ (those were their actual words), he made a second entrée as a musician. Nero scrupulously observed harpists’ etiquette. When tired, he remained standing. To wipe away perspiration, he used nothing but the robe he was wearing. He allowed no moisture from his mouth or nose to be visible. At the conclusion, he awaited the verdict of the judges in assumed trepidation, on bended knee, and with a gesture of deference to the public. And the public at least, used to applauding the poses even of professional actors, cheered in measured, rhythmical cadences. They sounded delighted. Indeed, since the national disgrace meant nothing to them, perhaps they were” (Tacitus, The Annals of Imperial Rome, 16.4).

Eusebius corroborated that Nero competed in Olympic events centered on verse and music. And he mentioned a few more unusual competitions that Nero ushered into the Olympics. On this topic, Eusebius wrote, “[211th Olympiad] These games were not held [at the usual time] because Nero postponed them until his visit to Greece. They were held two years later, and Tryphon of Philadelphia won the stadion race. Nero was awarded the crown in the contests for heralds, performers of tragedy and citharodes; and also in the races for chariots drawn by colts, mature horses and ten colts” (Eusebius, Chronicle, Book II, The Greek Olympiads, entry for 211th Olympiad/65 CE). Therefore, not only were there musical competitions in the Olympic Games, but one of the musical Olympic champions was the infamous Emperor Nero.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Leto, Apollo, and Artemis, from a Terracotta bell-krater (bowl for mixing wine and water), attributed to the Villa Giulia Painter ca. 460–450 BCE, [Public Domain] via the MET).

Sources:

Saint Eligius, By An Unknown 18th Century Artist

By
thehistorianshut
-

An unknown 18th-century artist created this painting of Saint Eligius, an altruistic artisan and bishop who lived during the time of the Merovingian Frankish kings. He was born in 588 at Chaptelet (modern Haute-Vienne) within the region of Limousin in central France. He apprenticed to a goldsmith and went on to become a renowned craftsman of ornate golden tableware, crosses, plaques, gilded furniture, and other such items that decorated the abodes of the nobility, clergy, and royalty. In particular, Eligius and his goldsmithing activities were associated with the Kingdom of Neustria, whose ruler, King Chlotar II (r. 584-629), united the embattled Frankish realms in 613 after multiple generations of Merovingian Dynasty feuding. Eligius was known to have created thrones for King Chlotar II, who, impressed by the gold craftsmanship, hired Eligius as a general supplier of golden items for the kingdom’s churches, tombs, monuments, and the royal court. Eligius also became associated with the then royal treasurer, Bobon (or Bobo), and involved himself in the minting process at Paris and Marseilles. His access and influence in the Neustrian court continued into the reigns of Chlotar’s successors, King Dagobert (r. 623-639) and King Clovis II (r. 639-657). By then, the goldsmith pivoted to join the clergy and he began to donate his considerable wealth to construction projects, such as the founding of local monasteries. It was during that mid-life change of focus when King Clovis II orchestrated Eligius’ appointment as the bishop of Noyon, Paris, in 641.

Skeptics may have wondered if the goldsmith was up to the task, given his close relationship with royalty and the king’s involvement in his appointment, but Bishop Eligius soon put worries to rest with his actions and abilities. He became a celebrated speaker, continued his support for construction projects, and also served as a respected diplomat. Despite the new duties and obligations, Bishop Eligius kept up his close relationship with the Neustrian court and the royal family. Around 648, after King Clovis II married his dominant Anglo-Saxon queen, Balthild (who was allegedly a former slave), Bishop Eligius became a counselor, confidant, and ally of the formidable woman. This was an influential relationship for Eligius to possess, for, following Clovis’ death in 657, Balthild would emerge as a talented matriarch and regent for her three sons: King Chlotar III (r. 657-673), King Childeric II (r. 662-675), and King Theodoric III (r. 673, 675, 676-690/691). Eligius and Balthild had a lot in common, notably their shared interest in the religious cloistered lifestyle, and they both were avid investors in monasteries. Interestingly, Bishop Eligius and Balthild are believed to have contributed to the decree from the Council of Chalon (c. mid 7th century) that insisted there should be restrictions on the slave trade and that slaves should be treated more humanely.

Bishop Eligius of Noyon died in 660, while Balthild was at the height of her power—she was later edged out of politics in 665, whereupon she lived as a nun at Chelles until her death in 680. As for Eligius’ posthumous reputation, his ability as a preacher and his investment in monasteries and church infrastructure gave him ample prestige for his legacy, but it was his earlier career as a goldsmith that truly gave his legend staying power. It was a time when relics were all the rage, after all, and the plentiful examples of his golden craftsmanship gave admirers a tangible, shiny vestige of his existence to ponder. Plaques, goblets, crosses, and other golden items fashioned by Eligius’ hands became celebrated tourist attractions and the sites of pilgrimages. It is that archetype of the goldsmith-turned-bishop that the anonymous 18th-century painter re-created in his artwork, and the anvil seen at the saint’s feet alludes to Eligius long career as a metalworker and artisan. Tragically, no undisputed examples of Eligius’ golden works have survived the ravages of time and human conflict.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain)

By
thehistorianshut
-

Samuel Clemens (alias Mark Twain, c. 1835-1910)

“I’m not a man to waste time after my mind’s made up and there’s work on hand.”

  • From chapter 2 of Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur’s Court (Published in 1889). The edition used here is by Bantam/Random House (1981, 2005).

Who Really Slew Goliath?

By
thehistorianshut
-

King David is often deemed the most famous king of ancient Israel and arguably ranks as one of the most memorable figures whose legends and stories have survived the erosions of time. Then and now, David emerged as an idolized and revered figure, serving as a standard by which other rulers were judged and measured. Even so, the real King David remains an enigma, as even the Bible is contradictory and inconsistent about the renowned king’s deeds and character. These questionable conflicting narratives span the entire life of the king, and even his most famous deed—David’s heroic slaying of the Philistine champion, Goliath—can be thrown into serious doubt by the Bible’s conflicting statements.

In the predominant account of the Goliath tale, as presented in First Samuel, David was a musically talented shepherd from Bethlehem when the army of King Saul of Israel (said to have ruled approximately c. 1021-1000 BCE) arrived in the region of Judah to face off against a force of Philistines, presumably from their nearby stronghold of Gath. Saul, suffering from ill health and a troubled mind (or an evil Spirit, as the Bible puts it), recruited David to be his court musician. David’s music brought Saul some comfort and peace of mind, and the thankful king consequently promoted David to become an armorbearer—a squire of sorts. On this, the Bible stated:

“‘I have seen a son of Jesse the Bethlehemite who is skillful in playing, a man of valor, a warrior, prudent in speech, and a man of good presence, and the Lord is with him.’ So Saul sent messengers to Jesse and said, ‘Send me your son David, who is with the sheep.’… And David came to Saul and entered his service. Saul loved him greatly, and he became his armor-bearer. And whenever the evil spirit from God came upon Saul, David took the lyre and played it with his hand, and Saul would be relieved and feel better, and the evil spirit would depart from him” (1 Samuel 16.18-23, NRSVUE translation).

While David juggled his three duties as a musician, squire, and shepherd, a tall Philistine warrior—Goliath of Gath—caused a stir by challenging the warriors of King Saul’s army to face him in a duel. This “champion named Goliath, of Gath,” the Bible intimidatingly reported, towered “six [or four] cubits and a span. He had a helmet of bronze on his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail; the weight of the coat was five thousand shekels of bronze. He had greaves of bronze on his legs and a javelin of bronze slung between his shoulders. The shaft of his spear was like a weaver’s beam, and his spear’s head weighed six hundred shekels of iron…” (1 Samuel 17.4-7, NRSVUE translation). All of King Saul’s warriors, according to this version of the tale, were too frightened to accept Goliath’s challenge, which caused hot-headed and zealous David to rebuke them all in a public speech. After criticizing the army, David vowed to take up the duel, himself, and he personally pled his case to King Saul. The king offered to lend the young shepherd different kinds of weapons and armor, but the gear was too cumbersome and unfamiliar. Therefore, David spurned the king’s equipment and instead entered the duel with his iconic sling. On the famous fight that ensued, the Bible stated:

“When the Philistine looked and saw David, he disdained him, for he was only a youth, ruddy and handsome in appearance. When the Philistine drew nearer to meet David, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet the Philistine. David put his hand in his bag, took out a stone, slung it, and struck the Philistine on his forehead; the stone sank into his forehead, and he fell face down on the ground. So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone, striking down the Philistine and killing him; there was no sword in David’s hand” (1 Samuel 17.42-50).

The Iconic David and Goliath moment was born. This feat of giant-slaying cemented David’s place as a legendary hero, a skilled warrior, and a champion for Israel against its foes. Yet, the Biblical narrative then abruptly and oddly pivots in awkward fashion to reintroduce David to King Saul. It is quite a baffling scene, because even though David was by this point the king’s beloved musician and squire, Saul now seems to forget his well-known companion, asking him detached questions such as, “Whose son are you, young man?” (1 Samuel 17.58), despite the Bible earlier stating that “Saul sent messengers to Jesse and said, ‘Send me your son David, who is with the sheep’” (1 Samuel 16.19). The odd structure and the inconsistencies of the David and Goliath passages have a tendency to cause inquisitive readers to wonder if the narrative was a later addition or an alternate origin story that was haphazardly spliced into the earlier storyline of David entering Saul’s orbit as a court musician.

Given these questions, it must be asked: Did David really slay Goliath? And, if not, was it perhaps someone else’s deed that was later ascribed to David for propagandic purposes? Biblical authors provided additional curious evidence to ponder just one book later in the Bible, where a brief and mysterious reference to another slaying of Goliath can be found. In Second Samuel, the Bible ascribes the slaying of the giant, Goliath, to an entirely different man from Bethlehem. In a passage devoted to recounting the giant-slaying deeds of David’s companions, the Bible states, “there was another battle with the Philistines at Gob, and Elhanan son of Jaare-oregim the Bethlehemite killed Goliath the Gittite, the shaft of whose spear was like a weaver’s beam” (2 Samuel 21.19). Presented with these two accounts, one may ask whether there were two giants named Goliath. Perhaps. As “Gittite” means “from Gath”, it must also be asked whether there might have been two giant Goliaths from Gath. Possibly. Could the two separate Goliaths from Gath have possessed identical spear shafts specifically described like a weaver’s beam? Maybe. Yet, on the other hand, could the tale of Elhanan slaying Goliath be an alternative narrative (perhaps the original narrative) in which David never slew the giant? Certainly.

One curiosity to point out is that when David eventually revolted against King Saul’s dynasty to begin his own rebel kingdom in Judah, he took the curious step of seeking the protection of the Philistine ruler, King Achish of Gath, to escape King Saul’s wrath. The Bible states, “So David set out and went over, he and the six hundred men who were with him, to King Achish son of Maoch of Gath. David stayed with Achish at Gath, he and his troops, every man with his household, and David with his two wives, Ahinoam of Jezreel and Abigail of Carmel, Nabal’s widow. When Saul was told that David had fled to Gath, he no longer sought for him” (1 Samuel 27.2-4). It would be a bold and curious move, indeed, for the famous slayer of the Gittite champion, Goliath, to later seek asylum in the slain hero’s home city of Gath. In fact, David was still allied with Gath when the Philistines killed King Saul of Israel and his heir apparent at the Battle of Gilboa. It could be that David appropriated the story of Elhanan’s slaying of Goliath as a nationalistic counterbalance meant to mask his own origins as a Philistine-allied rebel who carved out a kingdom in Judah at a time when Israel was in an existential succession crisis at a time of war.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Samuel Anoints David, and David Defeats Goliath, created by Jacob Folkema in 1791, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Rijksmuseum).

Sources:

Oedipus And Antigone, By Christoffer Wilhelm Eckersberg (1783 – 1853)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting by Christoffer Wilhelm Eckersberg (1783 – 1853) was inspired by stories about the legendary ancient Greek character, Oedipus, and his dutiful daughter, Antigone. Specifically, Eckersberg’s artwork brings to life a scene from late in Oedipus’ complicated life. To recap, Oedipus was the estranged son of the king or tyrant, Laius, of Thebes and his wife Jocasta, but the newborn’s fate was cursed by an oracle that predicted he would one day kill his father. Due to this prophecy, baby Oedipus was murderously abandoned by King Laius, but the agents tasked with disposing of the child decided to give the baby another chance and arranged for him to be brought to King Polybus and Queen Merope of Corinth. Oedipus was accepted by the Corinthian royals and he grew to love his adoptive family. Yet, his fate was once more ravaged by prophecy—this time, the oracle foretold that he would kill his father and marry his mother. Hearing this, Oedipus decided to never return to Corinth to spare his adopted parents from possible harm.

Oedipus’ travels brought him in the direction of Thebes, where he indeed unknowingly killed his father, Laius, and married his mother, Jocasta. Oedipus and Jocasta (who were not aware of their mother-son connection at the time) had four children: two daughters, Antigone and Ismene, as well as two sons, Polynices and Eteocles. Although the family initially lived in happy ignorance, the truth eventually came out, which had devastating consequences for Oedipus’ family. After discovering the truth, Jocasta ended her own life; Oedipus blinded himself and abdicated his power to go into exile; this caused Polynices and Eteocles to erupt into a civil war over their father’s vacated throne. Oedipus’ daughters, unlike his sons, stood by their father and continued to actively care for him. Ismene tracked down further oracles and prophecies in hopes of improving Oedipus’ fate. Antigone, meanwhile, stayed with her father to act as his constant guide and aide. This father-daughter partnership was featured in the play, Oedipus at Colonus, written by the Athenian playwright, Sophocles (c. 496-406/405 BCE). He wrote:

“Antigone, from the time she left her childhood behind
and came into full strength, has volunteered for grief,
wandering with me [Oedipus], leading the old misery, hungry,
feet cut through the bristling woods…
an eternity—worn down by the drenching rains,
the scorching suns at noon. Hard labor,
but you endured it all, never a second thought
for home, a decent life, so long as your father
had some care and comfort.”
(Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus, around line 340-350)

It is this imagery of Antigone guiding Oedipus through the bristling woods of the Greek countryside that inspired the painting featured above. According to the aforementioned playwright, the wanderings of Oedipus and Antigone ultimately brought them to Colonus, which was within walking distance of Athens and the reigning Athenian king, Theseus. Oedipus spent his final days at Colonus, cursing the unfilial conduct of his sons to the bitter end. Antigone, after her father’s death, returned to Thebes and worked alongside her sister Ismene to attempt (unsuccessfully) to end the civil war between their brothers. In the end, Polynices and Eteocles slew each other in battle, resulting in Thebes coming under the rule of their uncle, Creon, who soon after imprisoned Antigone and Ismene.

 

Sources:

James Fenimore Cooper

By
thehistorianshut
-

James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851)

“[I]t is better for a man to die at peace with himself than to live haunted by an evil conscience!”

  • From James Fenimore Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans (chapter 8), originally published in 1826. The reprinted edition used here is from the De Luxe Editions Club / The Country Life Press (New York, 1950s?).

The Tricky Treachery Of Palaepolis And Its Samnite Allies During A Roman Siege

By
thehistorianshut
-

In the second half of the 4th century BCE, the Romans began aggressively consolidating power and territory in Italy. Their rapid expansion forced neighboring independent and autonomous city-states to deliberate over the existential question of whether they should willingly submit to Rome or if they should attempt to resist the Romans on the battlefield. Those who decided to oppose Rome at that time often forged alliances with the Samnites, a powerful federation of Oscan-speaking tribes that controlled a large territory around the Apennine Mountain range in central Italy. Although they were powerful, the Samnites lost to the Romans during the course of the First Samnite War (343–341 BCE), after which Rome absorbed the land of the Campanian League. Rome then went on to solidify power in its heartland by crushing opponents during the Latin War (340–338 BCE), resulting in the cities of Latium being placed within Roman territory and citizenry. Roman conquests and annexations, in addition to a renewed wave of intrusive colonization, caused concern, anger, and fear among the leaders of Rome’s remaining neighbors in Italy. Around 327 BCE, Greek warriors from Palaepolis (near Neapolis) poured proverbial oil on the fire by raiding Roman territory in Campania, which provoked a declaration of war from Rome. The Samnites came to Palaepolis’ aid, forcing nearby city-states and peoples such as the Lucanians, Apulians, Nolani, Vestini, and the citizens of Neapolis to deliberate over whether they should join Rome, attempt to stay neutral, or openly align with the Samnites against the Romans. Of those mentioned, the Lucanians and Apulians decided to work with Rome for the time being, while the Vestini remained neutral. In contrast, Neapolis and the Nolani joined with Palaepolis and the Samnites.

Around 327 BCE, Rome mobilized forces and dispatched armies against Palaepolis and the Samnite land of Samnium, with the then consuls Lucius Cornelius Lentulus and Quintus Publilius Philo leading the armies. A brief period of political chaos occurred in Rome when the consuls’ term of office expired, but the Roman senate decided to allow the former consuls to remain in command of the armies while new leadership was elected in Rome. A brief dictatorship by Marcus Claudius Marcellus was quickly succeeded by an interregnum (a temporary council set up to govern until elections were held), and finally two new consuls, Gaius Poetelius and Lucius Papirius Mugillanus, were elected for the new year.

Most of the campaigning during Rome’s war against Palaepolis occurred in 326 BCE. Former consul Quintus Publilius Philo reportedly marched his army between Palaepolis and Neapolis, two Greek-populated cities in Italy with ties to the Greek colony of Cumae. Before Publilius and the Romans could implement a functioning siege of Palaepolis, Samnite and Nolani reinforcements were able to join the defenders within the city walls. These events were reported by the Roman historian, Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE), who wrote, “Publilius reported that two thousand soldiers from Nola and four thousand Samnites had been given entry to Palaepolis…Publilius had already occupied a convenient site between Palaepolis and Neapolis, and had deprived the enemy of the mutual sharing of assistance which they had made use of as one place or the other was in difficulties” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.23).

The amassed forces at Palaepolis posed a serious obstacle to Quintus Publilius Philo and his Roman army. Yet, Palaepolis’ formidable defenses were undermined by tension and infighting between the different peoples who were trapped together during the siege. Ancient Roman historical tradition was not certain on who betrayed whom first, but a serious wedge formed between the citizen of Palaepolis and their allies, the Samnites and Nolani. As the siege ground on, internal infighting evidently became unbearable and the different factions became treacherous toward each other.

According to the historian Livy, the foremost storyline of what happened was that the leaders of Palaepolis decided it would be in their best interest to lay down their arms and capitulate to Rome. Nevertheless, they feared that the thousands of Samnites and Nolani present in the city would react violently if the topic was submitted for deliberation among the allies. Therefore, fearing the response of their partners, the leaders of Palaepolis decided to clandestinely orchestrate the surrender on their own. As the story goes, one leader named Charilaus was put in charge of secretly meeting with the Roman army leadership, while another man, named Nymphius, was tasked with keeping the Samnites and Nolani distracted, while also trying to have them relocate their forces to disadvantageous positions.

Charilaus successfully slipped out unnoticed from Palaepolis and survived making contact with the Roman camp. After identifying himself as a representative of the city, the conspirator was allowed to meet the commanding officer of the Roman army, Quintus Publilius Philo. Once in audience with the general, Charilaus reported that the people of Palaepolis were ready to surrender and that they would be willing to turn on the Samnites and Nolani to end the siege. In exchange, all that Charilaus asked was for the people of Palaepolis to be shown mercy. Publilius Philo agreed to the envoy’s proposal, and the two concocted a plan for Charilaus to secretly smuggle a large contingent of Roman warriors into the city.

Charilaus’ co-conspirator, Nymphius, was also making progress back in Palaepolis. As the story goes, Nymphius was able to keep the Samnites and Nolani thoroughly distracted and confused. But most importantly, he was able to convince the Samnite commander that it was the opportune time for their forces to sneak out to the docks and ready the ships for a sea raid against Rome. Following this advice, the bulk of the Samnite defenders reportedly walked out to the coast, without their equipment, with the aim of preparing the ships for departure. It was at this time that Charilaus returned and secretly ushered Roman warriors into the main citadel of the city. On this, Livy wrote:

“While Nymphius was killing time in the dark and deliberately issuing conflicting orders to confuse the men, whose large numbers were also proving a hindrance, Charilaus was let into the city by his fellow-conspirators as arranged, and after occupying the citadel with Roman soldiers, ordered them to raise a cheer. Hearing this, the Greeks stayed quiet, as instructed by their leaders, but the Nolani rushed out of the city in the opposite direction by the road which leads to Nola. The Samnites, being cut off from the town, had the advantage of an easier escape but one which appeared in a more disgraceful light once the danger was over. Unarmed, with everything abandoned to the enemy, they returned home destitute, stripped of all they had, a laughing stock to their own people as well as to strangers. I am aware of the alternative tradition, whereby the betrayal of Palaepolis is ascribed to the Samnites, but have chosen to follow the more reliable authorities; furthermore, the treaty with Neapolis—where the Greeks transferred their centre of administration from then on—makes it seem more probable that they renewed their friendship with Rome of their own accord” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.26).

As the quote conveys, the Roman siege of Palaepolis was hastened by treachery, either by the people of the city betraying their allies, or by the Nolani and Samnites abandoning the people of Palaepolis. For Livy, he was partial to the account of Palaepolis orchestrating its own surrender to Rome in 326 BCE. Whatever the case, the Nolani and Samnites withdrew from the region during the incident, causing Neapolis to join its sister-city, Palaepolis, in submitting to Rome.

Although the battle for Palaepolis was over, the overall war between the Romans and the Samnites had just begun. In the immediate aftermath of Rome’s expansion into Palaepolis and Neapolis, the Tarentines became hostile to Rome and they lured the Lucanians back into the Samnite alliance. Similarly, the powerful coalition of the Vestini, Marsi, Paeligni and Marrucini people also allied with the Samnites against Rome. In effect, Palaepolis was a spark that ignited a much larger conflict. Rome’s Second [or Great] Samnite War (326–304 BCE) was underway.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Cropped section of A Roman Battle, by Simon Peter Tilemann (1601 – ), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the National Museum of Stockholm).

Sources:

123...372Page 1 of 372

RECENT POSTS

POPULAR