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Olvir Of Egg And His Downfall In An Ambush By Saint Olaf

By
thehistorianshut
-

Olaf Haraldsson, a Christian convert with a background as a Viking and a mercenary, declared himself to be the next king of Norway in 1015. He waged war against his Norwegian rivals, as well as outside influences from Sweden and Denmark, until he reasonably consolidated power in 1016. Becoming King Olaf II of Norway, the new monarch went to work, systematically imposing his authority on the realm. He toured the kingdom and called assemblies, where the populace was expected to swear allegiance to the monarch and accept his laws and decrees. When the king’s new regime had stabilized, he became confident enough to start a crusade of cultural change in Norway—with ultimatums and military might, King Olaf II began forcing the people of Norway to abandon the Norse religion and convert to Christianity. For these religious efforts, he has become known as Saint Olaf.

Despite being labeled a saint, Olaf—as a Viking, mercenary and king—was quite a brutal man. Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), a Christian politician and historian from Iceland, described Saint Olaf’s militant campaign of conversion, saying, “he laid such stress on it that if he found anyone who did not want to abandon heathendom, he drove them out of the land. Some he had maimed, having their hands or feet lopped off or their eyes gouged out, others he had hanged or beheaded, but left no one unchastised who refused to serve God” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 73). Such authoritarian measures caused vassals that had backed Saint Olaf’s ascendance to the throne to later decide to abandon him—King Olaf crushed one such conspiracy in 1017, when he unearthed and defeated a plot by five minor kings who were planning to rebel.

Dissident nobles were not the only people in Norway offering resistance to the king. Communities that did not want to abandon their traditional Norse religion refused to stop holding their religious banquets and festivals. One of the greatest hotspots of stubborn Norse worship was the Trondheim region, where a network of towns persisted in hosting religious events. Snorri Sturluson, in his Heimskringla, claimed that an agent of King Olaf II reported that “It is their custom to perform a sacrifice in the fall to welcome winter, a second at midwinter, and a third in summer to welcome its arrival. In this, the people of Eyin, and those of Sparabú, of Vera Dale, and of Skaun participate” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 109). The community of Mærin, too, was involved in keeping Norse worship alive in Trondheim. All of these communities respected a certain man, named Olvir, who hailed from a farming estate called Egg. It was to him that these towns turned whenever the king started asking questions about their activities.

Between 1020 and 1021, when King Olaf was becoming increasingly annoyed at Trondheim’s religious insubordination, Olvir of Egg was sent as a representative to defend the actions of the region before the king. As Olaf was not a tolerant man, Olvir decided to downplay the feasts and festivals. According to Snorri Sturluson, Olvir described the celebrations in Trondheim as “drinking in company, or communal drinking bouts, and some entertainment between friends” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 106). The king let the spokesman say his piece, but Olaf was not convinced—he left his spies and informants in place within Trondheim and continued to request information about Norse religious activity in the region.

In 1021, King Olaf II learned from his informants that Olvir of Egg was in Mærin, where he was personally organizing a traditional religious feast. Upon receiving this report, the king hounded the region of Mærin for answers as to the purpose of their upcoming banquets. Once again, Olvir of Egg was sent to make a verbal defense. Using the same tactic from his previous audience with the king, Olvir downplayed the scheduled feasts, merely saying that “people consider it good entertainment to drink in a large company” (Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 106). As before, the king let Olvir say his excuse and leave. Yet, as Saint Olaf had spies in the region, he knew that Olvir was not being forthcoming with the religious significance behind the feasts that were being planned at Mærin. The king did not appreciate Olvir’s deceptive answers, and, by this point, Saint Olaf was beginning to lose his patience and restraint.

After his second audience with the king, Olvir of Egg was not dissuaded from continuing his preparations for the celebration scheduled to be held soon in Mærin. This did not escape King Olaf and his intelligence network. Instead of calling in Olvir for a third audience, the king of Norway decided enough was enough. Olaf readied five ships and mustered over three hundred warriors, then set off covertly toward Mærin, where he planned to make an example of the town. Snorri Sturluson described the scene:

“No one had imagined that the king would get there so quickly, but he arrived at Mærin during the night. The houses were at once surrounded. Olvir was captured and killed, together with many others. The king took all provisions and had them brought to his ships, along with all the properties, such as furniture, clothing, and valuables which had been moved there, and had them distributed as booty among his men. The king also had those men’s homes ransacked whom he suspected to have had most part in these doings. Some were captured and put in chains, some escaped by flight, and many had their goods confiscated” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 109).

After the raid, an assembly was called of the surviving population from Mærin, where they were forced to renew their oath of allegiance to King Olaf II and to renounce the Norse religion. Before leaving, Olaf organized for priests to be relocated to the town and he also arranged for churches to be built in the region. Like Olvir of Egg, several of the people captured during Olaf’s raid were executed. Other punishments inflicted on those caught up in the ambush reportedly included mutilation, banishment and fines. As for Olvir’s family, his wife and two sons were deprived of their land and wealth. Olvir’s widow reportedly only regained status and wealth when a chieftain named Kalf Árnason later married her and succeeded in recovering her late husband’s estates.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Image by Erik Werenskiold  (1855–1938) for an edition of the Heimskringla, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

Sources:

Calgacus at Mons Graupius, by William Greatbach (c. 1802-1885)

By
thehistorianshut
-

In the scene displayed above, the British illustrator William Greatbach (c. 1802-1885) brought to life a pre-battle speech said to have occurred in the year 83. Standing on the chariot, in the center of the crowd, is the military leader of a coalition of Pict tribes—an alliance broadly called the Caledonians by the Romans. The Caledonian leader, whose name was recorded as Calgacus by scholars in Rome, is depicted here speaking to troops before the battle of Mons Graupius, where the Caledonians would soon clash with the Roman army of Governor Julius Agricola. Thankfully for posterity, the Roman governor’s son-in-law was the great historian, Tacitus (c. 56-117+), who wrote of the Battle of Mons Graupius in a biographical eulogy simply entitled, Agricola. Although Tacitus, obviously, was not present among the ranks of the Britons to hear the war-chief’s speech, the historian did an admirable job channeling the feelings of the Caledonians in order to invent a pre-battle address for Calgacus in his text. Tacitus wrote a multiple page speech for the leader, including lines such as “Robbery, butchery, rapine, these liars call ‘empire’: they create desolation and call it peace” (Agricola, section 30) and “Apprehension and terror are weak bonds of affection, just break them, and, where fear has ended, hatred will begin” (Agricola, section 31). Despite the inspiring words, Calgacus would soon be definitively defeated in the Battle of Mons Graupius by Tacitus’ father-in-law, Julius Agricola. Read an in-depth article about the impressive battle, HERE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

  • Agricola and Germania by Tacitus and translated by Harold Mattingly and revised by J. B. Rives. New York: Penguin Classics, 2009.

Lao Tzu

By
thehistorianshut
-

Lao Tzu (c. 6th-5th century BCE)

“It is because the sage never attempts to be great
that he succeeds in becoming great.”

  • From Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching (Book Two, LXIII), translated by D. C. Lau (Penguin Classics, 1963).

The Musical Love Story Of Sima Xiangru And Zhuo Wenjun

By
thehistorianshut
-

Born in Chengdu, within the province of Shu, Sima Xiangru would become one of the most impressive figures to live in the 2nd century BCE. He was a renaissance man, skilled in a wide variety of subjects, including art, war and statesmanship. Although he was not of noble blood, his talents caught the attention of the imperial government, eventually leading him to be recruited in order to serve princes and emperors.

Sima Xiangru was said to have been born in 179 BCE, at the beginning of the reign of Emperor Wen (r. 180-157 BCE). He was born into a family of some wealth, allowing him to become a well-read individual during his upbringing. He also studied the art of war, reportedly becoming a respectable swordsman. In music, too, he received some education, allowing him to eventually become a skilled player of the lute. His moderate wealth, immense knowledge and noted fighting ability impressed Emperor Jing of the Han Dynasty (r. 157-141 BCE), for whom Sima Xiangru accepted a position as one of the emperor’s personal guards.  Yet, he found his employer’s company to be unfulfilling, as according to Grand Historian Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), “Emperor Jing had no liking for literature” (Shi Ji 117).

In order to further his personal studies, Sima Xiangru began searching for new employment. He found his opportunity when the imperial capital was visited by Prince Xiao of Liang, who brought a troupe of scholars in his accompanying entourage. Sima Xiangru was so impressed by the prince’s companions that he retired from his position as an imperial guardsman and relocated to Liang, where he studied under the musicians, rhetoricians and writers in that court. Sima Xiangru’s talents flourished in that environment, and during his stay in Liang he penned his first major poem of public acclaim—the Zixu fu, a title translated variously as Sir Fantasy or Master Nil. Sima Xiangru remained in Liang honing his craft until around 144 BCE, when the death of Prince Xiao prompted the burgeoning poet to return home to Chengdu, in Shu Province.

Upon returning to his home town, Sima Xiangru reportedly found that his family’s wealth had collapsed during his absence. With no opportunities to be had in Chengdu, he moved to the district of Linqiong, where a friend of his was serving as the local magistrate. As a courtier of emperors and princes, as well as a published poet, Sima Xiangru was something of a minor celebrity at that point. Therefore, he was held in high regard in Linqiong, with influential people of the district frequently coming to his temporary residence to pay him respect while he stayed in the area. Besides making calls at his abode, other well-to-do figures in Linqiong were said to have thrown parties for Sima Xiangru—one of these hosted banquets would prove to be one of the most significant events in the poet’s life.

A wealthy merchant named Zhuo Wangsun was one of the figures in Linqiong who held a feast in honor of Sima Xiangru. Attending the party was anybody and everybody who was important in the district. Yet, despite the presence of all the distinguished guests, Sima Xiangru became fixated on one person in particular—a woman named Wenjun. She was the daughter of the party’s host, Zhuo Wangsun, and she had been married in the past, but was widowed at a young age. For Sima Xiangru, it was apparently love at first sight, and he was not dissuaded by the possible taboos or improprieties involved in pursuing her. As soon as the poet learned that she was a sucker for music, he requested that a lute be fetched with great haste, and, when one was brought to him, he used all his poetic and musical skill as a bard to impress Wenjun. Grand Historian Sima Qian described the scene, saying “he used the lute to pour out his heart in an effort to win the young girl’s attentions…the young girl secretly peered in through the door at him and her heart was filled with delight; she felt an instant love for him, and her only fear was that she could not have him for her husband” (Shi Ji 117). As the final finishing touch for his campaign of courtship, Sima Xiangru sent Wenjun presents, accompanied by letters expressing his deep respect and admiration. The poet’s lute playing and love letters greatly affected the woman—perhaps too much. Instead of encouraging marriage negotiations, Wenjun ran away from home and joined Sima Xiangru. Not waiting for her father’s blessing, the runaway and the poet eloped to Chengdu, where they began living as a married couple.

Wenjun’s father, Zhuo Wangsun, disapproved of his daughter’s actions and reportedly cut her off from all of his resources. Yet, Wenjun had a feeling that she and her new husband could eventually win their way back into Wangsun’s good graces. After staying out of sight and out of mind for a time, the newlyweds moved back to Linqiong, where they reportedly set up a winery. Through hard work at their winery, and the help of sympathizers in Linqiong, they were able to slowly but surely mend their relationship with Wangsun. Once the merchant father allowed himself to once more dote on his daughter, he began pouring funds and gifts into the hands of Wenjun and Sima Xiangru. According to Sima Qian, “Zhuo Wangsun finally gave his daughter Wenjun 100 servants, 1,000,000 cash and the clothing, quilts, and other articles that she had received as a dowry at the time of her first marriage. Wenjun and Xiangru then returned to Chengdu, where they purchased a house and some fields and lived a life of ease” (Shi Ji 117). Sima Xiangru’s newfound life of leisure would allow him to focus more time on his literary pursuits. He would eventually be invited to the court of Emperor Wu (r. 141-87 BCE), who commissioned more poetry from Sima Xiangru and reintroduced the poet into government affairs.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Musicians from the Yanju tomb paintings, c. 5th century, also known as Jiuquan Dingjia Gate No. 5 Tomb, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

Sources:

Aeneas’ Flight From Troy, By Federico Barocci (16th Century)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This scene, painted by the 16th-century Italian artist Frederico Barocci, depicts the famous escape of Aeneas from Ilium at the end of the legendary Trojan War. Aeneas was a demigod, the son of Aphrodite. As the Greeks broke into the city, ransacking and burning the Trojan capital, Aphrodite encouraged Aeneas to gather up his family and flee. The hero obeyed his divine mother and rushed to collect his elderly father, his frightened wife, and their young son while time remained to escape. Virgil (70-19 BCE), a poet from Rome, assumed the point of view of Aeneas and described in verse the scene that Frederico Barocci would later paint:

“So come, dear father, climb up onto my shoulders!
I will carry you on my back. This labor of love
will never wear me down. Whatever falls to us now,
we both will share one peril, one path to safety.
Little Iulus, walk beside me, and you, my wife,
follow me at a distance, in my footsteps.
…With that,
over my broad shoulders and round my neck I spread
a tawny lion’s skin for a cloak, and bowing down,
I lift my burden up. Little Iulus, clutching
my right hand, keeps pace with tripping steps.
My wife trails on behind. And so we make our way
along the pitch-dark paths, and I who had never flinched
at the hurtling spears or swarming Greek assaults—
now every stir of wind, every whisper of sound
alarms me, anxious both for the child beside me
and burden on my back.”
(The Aeneid, Book II, approximately lines 880-910)

In Virgil’s account, Aeneas’ wife later became separated from the rest and ultimately did not survive the sack of the city. In other accounts, however, she successfully survived alongside her husband. Virgil, in his poem, may have killed the poor woman off to allow Aeneas to uninhibitedly partner with new women that the Trojan hero would soon meet on his odyssey toward Italy, where, according to legend, Aeneas would become an ancestor of Romulus and Remus.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

  • The Aeneid by Virgil, translated by Robert Fagles. New York: Penguin Books, 2006.

Dante Alighieri

By
thehistorianshut
-

Dante Alighieri (c. 1265-1321)

“Of gold and silver ye have made your god,
Differing wherein from the idolater,
But that he worships one, a hundred ye?”

  • Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy (Inferno, Canto XIX), translated by Henry F. Cary in the Harvard Classics series, edited by Charles W. Eliot, and published by P. F. Collier & Son (1909, 1937).

The Tale Of A Medieval Thief Who Confessed To His Crimes Because Of A Muscle Spasm

By
thehistorianshut
-

Around 585, Bishop Gregory Of Tours (c. 539-594) traveled through a community called Carignan, located where the Chiers and the Meuse Rivers meet. A cloister of monks lived there, led by a curious saint known as Vulfolaic, who’s name eventually evolved to Walfroy in France. Gregory of Tours, a historian as well as a bishop, interviewed Vulfolaic on a variety of topics, some biographical and others concerned more with daily events in Carignan. During these talks, Vulfolaic told Gregory several tales, ranging from his early days as an ascetic monk, to stories about local criminals, and also accounts of miracles that had reportedly occurred in the region. Gregory of Tours, a great fan of gossip, folklore and moral tales, eagerly committed the tales to memory and preserved them by splicing the stories into his historical text, known as The History of the Franks.

One of the stories told by Vulfolaic to Gregory featured a prolific thief from Carignan who developed a clever way to escape from his crimes.  As it was a monastery town with a highly devout population, the thief found that if he swore (falsely) on the name of God and the saints that he was innocent, the people of Carignan would take the oaths at face value and would not prosecute him for any crimes.  With this exploitive observation on his side, the thief continued committing his heists and hold-ups.

Criminal success from this cultural loophole inevitably led to laziness and sloppiness in the way that the thief carried out his craft. Consequently, one of his robberies was botched to such a degree, with so many witnesses seeing the crime, that the population of Carignan did not buy his pleadings of innocence. This time, the thief would need to swear his false oath in a more dramatic setting to convince his peers—he chose the local church as the setting for his nefarious speech. This, however, proved to be the thief’s undoing, for as soon as he entered the church (with a weapon in hand, for some reason), he had a severe muscle spasm in his chest. Although more irreligious than the rest of the population, the thief was still a spiritual man, and at that moment he thought the pain in his chest meant he was about to be struck down by God. Gregory of Tours described the scene, “As he came in through the door, his axe slipped from his hand and he himself fell to the floor, with a severe spasm in his heart. Thereupon the miserable wretch confessed his crime in the very speech in which he planned to swear that he was innocent” (History of the Franks, VIII.16).

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (The Confession Of The Giaour, By Eugène Delacroix (1798–1863), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

Sources:

  • The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.

Surrender Of King John II Of France At The Battle Of Poitiers, By Henri-Louis Dupray (c. 1841-1909)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This image, created by the French artist Henri-Louis Dupray (c. 1841-1909), depicts the surrender of King John II of France to the forces of Edward “the Black Prince” of England at the Battle of Poitiers on September 19, 1356. Dupray’s illustration closely follows the account of the chronicler, Jean Froissart (c. 1337-1410), who wrote of how the English troops struggled amongst themselves to be the first to capture the French king and the king’s son, Philip, who was also present at the battle. Amid the cacophony of Englishmen shouting “surrender” in poorly-pronounced French, one of the voices (speaking the king’s language perfectly) stood out to King John II—this eloquent knight is likely the man Henri-Louis Dupray depicted in the center of the image, with his arm outstretched toward King John and Prince Philip. Jean Froissart described the scene:

“’Who are you?’ the King asked. ‘Sire, I am Denis de Morbecque, a knight from Artois. But I serve the King of England because I have been exiled from France and have forfeited all my possessions.’ Then, as I [Jean Froissart] was informed, the King answered, or probably answered: ‘I surrender to you’, and gave him his right-hand glove” (Chronicles, Book One, Penguin translation pg. 141).

Despite the king’s submittal to Sir Denis de Morbecque, the squabbles among the Englishmen about who would claim credit for the capture did not abate until the Black Prince sent trusted aides to the scene to ensure the king and his son were treated with respect.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Sources:

  • Chronicles of Jean Froissart, translated by Geoffrey Brereton. London: Penguin Classics, 1968, 1978.
  • The Chronicles of Froissart, translated by Lord Berners, in Chronicle and Romance: Froissart, Malory, Holinshed, edited by Charles W. Eliot in the Harvard Classics series. New York: P. F. Collier & Son, 1910, 1938.

The Buddha

By
thehistorianshut
-

The Buddha (c. 6th-5th century BCE)

“An uninstructed person
ages like an ox:
his bulk increases,
his insight does not.”

  • The Dhammapada (Verses on the Way, Chapter 11), recorded in the 3rd century BCE. Translation by Glenn Wallis, 2004.

The Generous Rise And Authoritarian Crash Of Spurius Maelius

By
thehistorianshut
-

According to ancient scholars such as Quintus Ennius (c. 239-169 BCE), Lucius Cincius Alimentus (flourished c. 200 BCE) and Livy (59 BCE-17 CE), their homeland of Rome experienced a severe famine in 440 BCE. The scale of the crisis prompted both government and private citizens to launch relief efforts to ease the suffering of the Roman people. On the government side, famine countermeasures were orchestrated by Lucius Minucius, the official in charge of Rome’s grain supply. Of the private citizen endeavors to alleviate Rome’s hunger, none ran a better operation at that time than Spurius Maelius, a wealthy plebeian with powerful friends in Etruria. Livy commented on Spurius Maelius’ greatly successful grain supply system:

“At his own expense he bought grain in Etruria through the agency of friends and dependants in that country—a proceeding which in itself, I believe, had adversely affected government efforts to bring prices down—and then started to distribute it free amongst the poor. Such generosity won their hearts, and crowds of them followed him wherever he went, giving him an air of dignity and importance far beyond what was due to a man who held no official position” (History of Rome, 4. 13).

As Spurius Maelius continued to offer food to the starving people of Rome at a cheap or free price, his popularity skyrocketed. All the while, the complications that the private citizen’s grain campaign placed on the government’s official famine relief efforts quickly caused friction to build between Rome’s grain official, Lucius Minucius, and the charitable organization of Spurius Maelius. Seeing the growing popularity and influence of his private sector counterpart, Minucius became more and more suspicious and paranoid about Maelius’ intentions.

By 439 BCE, the grain official convinced himself that Maelius intended to join the fray of politics, where he could possibly use his newfound public support to overthrow the government. Minucius brought his concerns to the Roman Senate, who similarly agreed with their grain official that Maelius could soon become a problem for the government. According to legend, the concerned senators then sought advice and direction from the old former dictator, Cincinnatus, who had held ultimate power for a time in 458 BCE, when Rome was endangered by the Aequi. Cincinnatus, too, apparently agreed that Spurius Maelius was a threat, and the Roman Senate decided that something had to be done. According to legend (one likely not true), the Senate supposedly named Cincinnatus dictator once more so that he could do everything in his power to end the threat posed by Maelius.

Whatever the case, be it dictator or senate, the Roman government reportedly decided to arrest Spurius Maelius and put him through interrogation. The charitable grain lender understandably was confused and frightened by the government’s actions. In his confusion (which was shared by the public), Maelius seems to have resisted arrest and, in the struggle that ensued, he was killed by one of the men sent to make the apprehension. As a startled crowd was present to witness the botched arrest of Maelius, the government felt that it had to give a speech about the incident. As the story goes, Cincinnatus emerged to deliver the statement, in which he accused the dead man of having ambitions of kingship. Livy described the scene:

“Uncertain of the significance of what had happened, the crowd was in a state of excitement, when Cincinnatus called for silence and addressed them. ‘Maelius,’ he declared ‘has been justly killed, even if he was not guilty of aiming at the throne; he was summoned by the Master of the Horse to present himself before the dictator and refused: that in itself was a capital offence” (History of Rome, 4. 13).

After the death of Spurius Maelius, the government seized the deceased man’s lands and assets. His personal wealth was taken, and his possessions were sold, with the proceeds going to the public funds. When the dead man’s home was finally cleared out of items and furniture, it was demolished and the land there was left undeveloped. The empty lot eventually became a landmark known as the Aequimaelium.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Hadrian visiting a pottery shop, painted by Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836–1912), dated 1884, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

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