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Faroald I, The First Lombard Duke Of Spoleto

Faroald was a nobleman of the Lombard people who followed King Alboin into Italy in 568, seizing a large portion of the Italian peninsula from the Empire of Constantinople by the time of Alboin’s death in 572 or 573. Unfortunately, little is known about what Faroald was doing during the reign of King Alboin or that of his successor, King Cleph (r. 572-574). By the time of Cleph’s death, however, Faroald had made himself into a powerful and influential Lombard lord, ruling over a sizable military force. Likely due to his skill in combat and strategy, Faroald was appointed as a duke (or dux)—one of several powerful Lombard lords, such as Zotto in Benevento and Euin in Trento, who would soon dominate Lombard politics. Faroald’s own ducal domain eventually centered on the city of Spoleto, from which he would prove to be an aggressive and expansionist leader. After the death of King Cleph in 574, the dukes suppressed the power of the monarchy, not recognizing Cleph’s son, Authari, as the new king until as late as 584. During that kingless intermission from 574 to 584, the Lombard dukes ran wild, working together and alone to expand their personal realms. Faroald proved himself to be one of the more successful of these self-serving dukes.

Although knowledge about Faroald’s reign as a duke is of short supply, some battles and dates can be attached to his résumé. For one, Faroald is presumed, along with his fellow duke, Zotto, to have been involved in a battle against Baduarius—a son-in-law to Emperor Justin II of Constantinople (r. 565-578). Baduarius, after setting out from the imperial stronghold of Ravenna, was defeated in battle and killed in 575 or 576 by a coalition of Lombard dukes. It has been proposed that this clash occurred while Dukes Faroald and Zotto were marching down the Italian Peninsula to establish themselves in their new realms of Spoleto and Benevento. Once Faroald did indeed entrench himself in Spoleto, he once more looked northward at Ravenna, the seat of power for Constantinople’s governors in Italy. Around the year 579, Duke Faroald marched an army toward Ravenna and seized the city’s strategic port town, which was then called Classis. A Lombard historian named Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799) recorded this feat, writing, “Faroald, first duke of the Spoletans, invaded Classis with an army of Longobards and left the rich city stripped, plundered of all its wealth” (History of the Lombards, 3.13). Yet, Faroald’s occupation of Classis, and the kingless nature of the Lombards in general, was only temporary.

In 584, Emperor Maurice of Constantinople (r. 582-602) and the Frankish king, Childebert II (r. 575-595), negotiated a military alliance against the Lombards. Emperor Maurice reportedly paid 50,000 pieces of gold to King Childebert II in order to entice the Franks to launch a major invasion into the Lombard-controlled section of Italy. In order to face this incoming onslaught of Frankish and imperial attacks, the Lombard dukes decided to put their divided lands once more under a central monarchal government. A majority of the dukes elected Authari, the son of the last king, as the new leader of the Lombard state, and they reportedly agreed to relinquish half of their possessions to the new king, for the upkeep of the monarch, his court, and the protection of the realm. Of course, there were dissidents—most notable of which was Duke Droctulft, who defected to the forces of Constantinople, and, much to Faroald’s annoyance, retook the port of Classis in 584 for Ravenna.

King Childebert II of the Franks was true to his word, invading Lombard territory in 584, 588, and 590. Fortunately for the Lombards, King Authari proved himself to be a capable leader, successfully minimizing and fending off the coordinated attacks from the Frankish and imperial armies. After beating back the Frankish invasion of 590, King Authari died during ongoing peace negotiations with King Childebert. Duke Faroald died not long after, in the year 591, and Ariulf succeeded him as the new duke of Spoleto.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Apparition of Saint George Appearing Before An Army, created by Gustave Dore and Héliodore Joseph Pisan (c. 19th century), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Rijksmuseum).

 

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Chiromancer, Painted By Pietro della Vecchia (c. 1602-1678)

This painting, by the Italian artist Pietro della Vecchia (c. 1602-1678), depicts a practitioner of chiromancy, a form of divination also known as cheiromancy, palmistry, or simply palm reading. The influential Malleus Maleficarum (published around 1487) described chiromancy as divination by one who “observes the lines of the hand, or of the paws of animals” and classified the practice as a type of divination that is “no more than a silent consideration of the disposition and movement of some thing, as of the stars, or the days, or the hours, and such things” (Malleus Maleficarum, Part I, Question 16). It was a grey area of magic, along with other divination methods such as horoscopes and astrology, which were often (but not always) condoned in medieval courts, whereas darker practices such as necromancy were more widely condemned. In Pietro della Vecchia’s painting, the chiromancer seemingly lived at a time or a place where his craft was accepted, for he displays little worry about his safety. Read more about the many forms of divination HERE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

  • The Malleus Maleficarum by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, translated by Montague Summers. New York: Dover Publications, 1971.
  • The Demonology of King James I, edition of Donald Tyson (Llewellyn Publications, 2011).
  • https://cyfrowe.mnw.art.pl/en/catalog/506608

Chief Joseph

Chief Joseph
(Nez Percé/Nimiipuu leader, c. 1840-1904)

“I do not believe that the Great Spirit Chief gave one kind of men the right to tell another kind of men what they must do.”

  • Chief Joseph’s Own Story (paragraph 26), by Chief Joseph, originally published in 1879; republished with an introduction by Bishop W. H. Hare and General Howard’s Comment in The North American Review (1879). Reprinted by Kessinger Publishing, 2010.

The Tale Of A Dragon Sighting In 6th-Century Rome

In 589 and 590, the city of Rome was faced by successive natural disasters. An interesting folkloric tale soon spread in the region to offer a supernatural explanation for Rome’s misfortune in those years. Roman woes at that time were caused, so the local legend claimed, by the nefarious influence of a dragon.

Rome’s first disaster in those two chaotic years was a great flood of the Tiber in 589, which destroyed buildings and ruined food supplies in the city. As the floodwaters overflowed into the city, so too were slithery aquatic creatures drawn to the flooded region. An unnatural amount of water snakes were reportedly seen in the bloated Tiber during the time of the flood, and leading this army of serpents, according to the legend, was a great dragon. This odd folktale was recorded by Bishop Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), who happened to have had a deacon named Agiulf abroad in Rome at the time to procure some saint relics. Gregory, who was a historian as well as a bishop, made sure to mention the dragon sighting in Rome within his Ten Books of Histories, also commonly known as the History of the Franks:

“My deacon (Agiulf) told me that the previous year, in the month of November, the River Tiber had covered Rome with such flood-water that a number of ancient churches had collapsed and the papal granaries had been destroyed, with the loss of several thousand bushels of wheat. A great school of water-snakes swam down the course of the river to the sea, in their midst a tremendous dragon as big as a tree-trunk, but these monsters were drowned in the turbulent salt sea-waves and their bodies were washed up on the shore” (Gregory of Tours, History of the Franks, X.1).

Two centuries later, the story about the dragon had changed slightly. Instead of the original tale of the snakes (and possibly the dragon) dying and littering the shore with their corpses, storytellers by the 8th century had refined the narrative to say that the serpents more mysteriously disappeared into the Mediterranean. This new version of the story was recorded by Paul the Deacon (lived approximately 720-799), who claimed, “a great multitude of serpents, and a dragon also of astonishing size passed by the city and descended to the sea” (History of the Lombards, III.24).

Rome’s serpentine visitors, and the alleged dragon leader of the slithering masses, were blamed for the next natural disaster that quickly followed upon the flood. In soggy, hungry Rome, poor conditions allowed a pestilence to spread widely in the region. By early 590, Rome found itself in the midst of a terrible epidemic, and even the pope could not escape from the illness. Pope Pelagius II (r. 579-590) died of the disease, and the epidemic was still ravaging Rome when his successor, Gregory the Great (r. 590-614), became the new pope.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Dragon from a manuscript labeled BL Harley 3954, f. 8v in The British Library, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

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Helen Brought To Paris, Painted By Benjamin West (c. 1738-1820)

This scene of ancient Greek myth and folklore was painted by Benjamin West (c. 1738–1820), an artist who was born and raised in Britain’s North American colonies, but relocated and lived in England before and after the American Revolution. West’s painting features Paris of Troy, dressed in green, and the runaway wife, Helen, whose affair with the Trojan prince sparked the Trojan War. Helen’s spurned spouse, Menelaus of Sparta, rallied his friends and allies to reclaim Helen from the Trojans. The scene above likely portrays a time in the war when Menelaus and Paris decided to have a duel to finally determine which of them would be Helen’s husband. Paris lost the duel, but his life was saved by the goddess Aphrodite. Although the Trojan prince’s health remained intact, his relationship with the queen of Sparta had become unstable. Paris’ dismal display in the duel caused Helen to begin second-guessing her decision to stay with the Trojan prince. The deities of love, however, disapproved of Helen’s lapse in infatuation, so Aphrodite quickly swooped in to push the queen of Sparta back into Paris’ corner. Although Helen resisted, she could not shake off the influence of Aphrodite. The ancient Greek poet Homer described the scene:

“Helen, child of Zeus, was terrified. She wrapped herself up in her shining white robe and went off in silence. Not one of the Trojan women saw her go: she had a protecting divinity to guide her. When they reached Paris’ superb house, the waiting-women in attendance at once turned to their tasks while Helen, goddess among women, went to her lofty bedroom. There the goddess herself, laughter-loving Aphrodite, picked up a chair, carried it across the room and put it down in front of Paris. Helen, daughter of Zeus who drives the storm-cloud, sat down on it but refused to look her husband in the face…” (Homer, The Iliad, Book 3, between lines 420-430).

Such is the scene that Benjamin West painted. It shows Aphrodite and Eros dragging the hesitant Helen towards Paris. Following the text, West painted Helen in white and made it so that she did not look at the Trojan prince. Meanwhile, back at the site of the duel from which Paris fled, Menelaus and the Greeks were outraged at the lack of Trojan compliance to the terms of the duel—the release of Helen and recompense for the war. Helen, however, was not relinquished by the Trojans and so the Trojan War continued.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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The Tale Of Ghino di Tacco—A Robber And Murderer Allegedly Rewarded By A Pope

Ghino di Tacco was a lawless nobleman of Siena who flourished in the late 13th century. His intriguing life might have been forgotten if not for the famous Florentine writers, Dante Alighieri (c. 1265-1321) and Giovanni Boccaccio (c. 1313-1375), who both referenced him in their masterpieces of literature. The poet, Dante, briefly alluded to Ghino’s most famous murder in his Divine Comedy, whereas Boccaccio penned out a broader prose outline of Ghino’s life and career in The Decameron. When the two literary references are put together, a vague picture of the Sienese brigand emerges.

Crime, it appears, was a family affair for Ghino di Tacco. Other relatives of his, such as Turrino da Turrita, were also notorious bandits who operated in the region of Tuscany. Ghino, however, had higher ambitions than the usual petty crimes of a highwayman. In one of his most famous heists, he occupied Santafiora Castle in the Tuscan Maremma region. Yet, with this crime, as the saying goes, Ghino di Tacco bit off more than he could chew. The castle theft drew the wrath of the powerful Aldobrandeschi family (who owned the fortress), and the crime ultimately caused Ghino to be exiled from his home city of Siena. Forced to relocate, the bandit moved to a new headquarters at Radicofani, which was perfectly located along the lucrative road between Siena and Rome. This backstory was summarized by Giovanni Boccaccio in his Decameron: “Giovani di Tacco, whose feats of daring and brigandage brought him great notoriety after being banished from Siena and incurring the enmity of the Counts of Santa Fiora, staged a rebellion in Radicofani against the Church of Rome; and having established himself in the town, he made sure that anyone passing through the surrounding territory was set upon and robbed by his marauders” (Tenth Day, Second Story).

Ghino di Tacco and his crew were able to manage public relations by generously dolling out their ill-gotten gains to their host community. Nevertheless, the law and the nobles and the victims of theft could not be placated. Ultimately, several of Ghino’s relatives were arrested and hauled off for trial. A judge named Benincasa of Arezzo executed these captured family members, and when this news reached Ghino he vowed revenge. The vengeful bandit tracked down Benincasa and stabbed him to death in front of many witnesses. It is this killing that Dante Alighieri referenced in his Divine Comedy:

“Here of Arezzo him I saw, who fell
By Ghino’s cruel arm;”
(Divine Comedy, Purgatory, Canto VI)

After the assassination of Benincasa of Arezzo, Ghino’s days were numbered. Yet, in the meantime, an interesting event supposedly happened to the wanted outlaw. The tale was recorded by Giovanni Boccaccio, who claimed in his Decameron that Ghino’s “worth was acknowledged by the Pope [Boniface VIII], who made peace with him and granted him a large priory in the Order of the Hospitallers, having first created him a Knight of that Order” (Tenth Day, Second Story). Despite being allegedly inducted into a holy order, Ghino di Tacco could not escape his criminal life. Around the turn of the 13th century into the 14th century, Ghino was killed by an unknown assailant.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Bandits on a Rocky Coast, painted by Salvator Rosa (c. 1615–1673), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

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Saint Sigismund Of Burgundy, Painted By Jan Jiří Heinsch (c. 1647-1712)

This painting, by the Czech artist Jan Jiří Heinsch (1647-1712), purports to depict King Sigismund of Burgundy (r. 516-523). Although curiously labeled a saint, Sigismund was known to have sometimes acted far from saintly. His most notorious scandal occurred when, after marrying a new wife, Sigismund had his son by his previous marriage executed. A 6th-century bishop and historian, Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), described the assassination, writing, “One day when the boy had drunk wine with his lunch Sigismund sent him to lie down in the afternoon. As he slept a cloth was slipped under his neck and knotted under his chin. Two servants tugged at the ends and so the boy was throttled. The father was grief-stricken at what he had done, but it was too late” (History of the Franks, III.5). This murder of the youth, whose name was Sigeric, caused a stir among the European powers that had family ties to Burgundy—King Theoderic the Great of the Ostrogoths (r. 493-526) had been Sigeric’s grandfather through the boy’s mother, whereas the Frankish brother-kings Chlodomer, Childebert I, and Chlotar I were related to the Burgundian royals through their mother, the Burgundian princess Clotild (her parents had been slaughtered by Sigismund’s father). These outside observers became hostile to King Sigismund after the assassination became public, and the Franks ultimately invaded Burgundy in 523. Sigismund was captured after being defeated in battle. His fate was an example of the saying that those who live by the sword die by the sword. As told by the aforementioned Gregory of Tours, “Sigismund and his wife and children were murdered out of hand: Chlodomer ordered them to be thrown down a well at Saint-Péravy-la-Colombe, a small township in the Orléanais” (History of the Franks, III.6). Sigismund’s brother, King Godomer, would continue to resist the Franks, but the Kingdom of Burgundy was ultimately conquered by 534.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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Sunshu Ao (recorded by Sima Qian)

Sunshu Ao (7th-6th century BCE)

“If orders are issued too frequently to the people they will not know which ones to obey.”

  • A saying attributed to Sunshu Ao, recorded by Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE) in his Records of the Grand Historian (Shi Ji 119). The translation used here is by Burton Watson (Columbia University Press, 1993).

The Straightjacket-Like Corê Sleeve Reportedly Used In The Ancient Persian Court

Ancient Greek writers who were exposed to the ancient Persian court were intrigued by a curious garment that was said to have been used when Achaemenid Kings of Kings met with their courtiers. At times, so the story goes, the Persian king would force his guests to wear a certain item of clothing, called a corê, which acted like a straightjacket, preventing anyone with ill intentions from using their arms in any harmful way. This was mentioned by the scholar and mercenary, Xenophon (c. 420-350 BCE), who claimed that his Persian acquaintance, Cyrus the Younger, put one of these corê sleeves to good use. In his Hellenica, Xenophon wrote, “Cyrus put to death Autoboesaces and Mitraeus, the sons of Darius’ sister (daughter of Xerxes, the father of Darius). He did this because they failed to push their hands through the corê —a gesture that is made only in the presence of the king. (The corê is a kind of sleeve, longer than the cheiris, and anyone with his hands inside it would be incapable of doing anything” (Xenophon, Hellenica, II.1.8). Xenophon might have personally seen this garment himself, as he fought in Cyrus’ failed campaign to become king in 401 BCE. Alternatively, he could have learned of the corê from the writings of his contemporary, Ctesias, who was a doctor in the court of Artaxerxes II (r. 404-359/358 BCE).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Illustration inspired by a wall from the Palace of Artaxerxes II, printed by Friedrich Richter (c. 1822-1873), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the New York Public Library).

 

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The Witch Of Endor Raising The Spirit Of Samuel, By William Blake (c. 1757-1827)

This painting, by the English poet and artist William Blake (c. 1757-1827), depicts the Biblical tale of King Saul of Israel (dated to the 11th century BC) meeting with the so-called Witch of Endor. As the story goes, King Saul went to the Witch of Endor—a necromancer—on the eve of a battle with his persistent foe, the Philistines. Saul wanted the witch to conjure the spirit of the then recently deceased Samuel, a prophet and military leader who had first supported King Saul’s reign, but died denouncing Saul’s kingship. The Witch of Endor agreed to the task and succeeded in summoning Samuel’s spirit for a conversation with King Saul. It is a scene described in the First Book of Samuel:

“Then the woman asked, ‘Whom shall I bring up for you?’
‘Bring up Samuel,’ he said.
When the woman saw Samuel, she cried out at the top of her voice and said to Saul, ‘Why have you deceived me? You are Saul!’
The king said to her, ‘Don’t be afraid. What do you see?’
The woman said, ‘I see a ghostly figure coming up out of the earth.’
‘What does he look like?’ he asked.
‘An old man wearing a robe is coming up,’ she said.
Then Saul knew it was Samuel, and he bowed down and prostrated himself with his face to the ground.”
(1 Samuel 28: 11-14, NIV version)

Such is the scene that is occurring in the painting by William Blake. It shows King Saul prostrating himself before the summoned ghost of Samuel. Unfortunately for the king, the late prophet’s newest prophecy was not a good one. As the story goes, the summoned Samuel told Saul that the forces of Israel would be defeated in the upcoming battle with the Philistines, and that Saul and his sons would be killed. Samuel’s prediction proved true, but the defeat of King Saul paved the way for the ascendance of King David.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

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