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The Capture Of The Pirate Blackbeard In 1718, Painted By Jean Leon Gerome Ferris (c. 1863–1930)

This action-packed painting was created by Jean Leon Gerome Ferris (c. 1863–1930), an American artist known for making artworks inspired by the history of Britain’s North American colonies and the United States. This particular scene depicts the final showdown between Edward Teach (more famously known as the pirate Blackbeard) and sailors from the British Navy. On the morning of November 22, 1718, Lieutenant Robert Maynard launched a surprise attack on Blackbeard’s position near Ocracoke Island, off the coast of North Carolina. The pirates reportedly tried to sail away, but when it became apparent that escape was not possible, Blackbeard opened fire on the British Navy. As the story goes, Lieutenant Robert Maynard was able to lure Blackbeard into prematurely making an attempt to board the British ships. In the hand-to-hand melee that ensued, Robert Maynard and the British sailors were able to overwhelm the pirates and kill Blackbeard. After the battle of Ocracoke, Lieutenant Robert Maynard traveled to Virginia, as his expedition to track down and attack the pirate hideout had been authorized and funded by Governor Alexander Spotswood of Virginia. With the lieutenant went the severed head of Blackbeard, which was subsequently put on public display in Virginia as a warning against piracy.

 

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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Confucius

Confucius (c. 551-479 BCE)

“In the morning, hear the Way; in the evening, die content!”

  • The Analects of Confucius (Book IV, section 8) translated by Arthur Waley (Vintage Books, 1989).

The Successful Aztec Ambush Of 2 Spanish Patrol Ships

When Hernan Cortes began his siege of the Aztec capital city of Tenochtitlan in 1521, he split his coalition of Spanish and allied native warriors among several officers and sent them to positions on different causeways that led toward the Aztec capital, which was built on a marshy lake. With the help of his native allies, Cortes was also able to build 13 ships to deploy on the lake around Tenochtitlan—theses ships aided his divided forces as they pushed up the causeways toward the city. In addition to supporting the Spanish ground troops and keeping hostile canoe fleets at bay, the ships also patrolled the lake at night in search of Aztec smugglers attempting to bring food and water into the besieged city. Hernan Cortes made mention of these anti-smuggling operations in his Third Letter to his liege, Charles V:

“I gave particular instructions to the commanders of these brigantines, to run day and night from one camp to the other, some one way and some to the other, since the enemy were in the habit of visiting part of the main land in the vicinity of the two camps with their canoes, which they loaded with water, fruits, maize, and other supplies” (Hernan Cortes, Third Letter).

Bernal Díaz del Castillo, one of the conquistadors who served with Hernan Cortes, also made note of the nightly conflict between patrol ships and smugglers in his memoir history, The Conquest of New Spain. He wrote of how hunting the smugglers served a dual purpose, for it disrupted the besieged city’s food supply and also expanded the diet of the Spaniards, themselves, as the Spanish infantry on the causeways were reportedly persisting mainly on scavenged vegetables and fruits. Therefore, when the patrols captured a shipment of meat, it not only deprived the much-needed food from the Aztecs, but also gave Cortes’ troops a more exciting meal.

As time went on, the Aztecs became aware of the campaign against their smugglers. At the same time, Cortes’ patrols in the lake began to underestimate their opponents as the Spanish successes in naval battles and smuggler seizures piled up. Taking advantage of this lack of respect and discipline, the Aztecs would soon make the hunters become the hunted.

One night, two Spanish patrol ships caught site of some enemy canoes paddling a cargo of what they thought was fresh water toward the city of Tenochtitlan. With their targets in sight, the patrol ships sped off in the direction of the smugglers. The rowers in the canoes, upon realizing that they were being pursued, frantically began paddling toward a nearby shore. Although the ships were closing in, the Aztec smugglers were able to reach a lakeside thicket that crept into the water. As the smugglers pulled their canoes ashore, the two patrol ships arrived near the thicket, hoping to catch their prey before the enemy could escape. Yet, as they rowed closer to the visible vegetation, the ships jolted to a stop. No matter how hard they rowed, the ships would not budge—as the Spaniards would later discover, the Aztecs had planted spikes in that area of water, which caught or impaled the hulls of the Spanish ships.

Hidden stakes, however, were not the only threat faced by the stranded crews. Looking out from their ships, the conquistadors would have seen the thicket appear to start moving. The brushy vegetation started floating closer to the ships, and the sailors could start to discern distinct masses in the growth. Unfortunately for the Spaniards, the thicket was not really a thicket at all—actually, it was approximately thirty camouflaged canoes filled with warriors. Having successfully caught the two patrol ships in their trap, the Aztecs launched their attack. The aforementioned Bernal Díaz del Castillo recounted the ill fates of these sailors:

“When they reached the ambush all the pirogues came out together and attacked them, quickly wounding all the soldiers, oarsmen, and officers; and the launches could not escape in either direction on account of the stakes that had been planted. Thus they killed a certain Captain de Portilla, an excellent soldier who had fought in Italy, and wounded Pedro Barba, another good officer, whose launch they captured and who died of his wounds three days later” (Conquest of New Spain, chapter 151).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (cropped section from The Conquest of Tenochtitlán, painting dated to the 17th century, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

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Pyrrhic Dance, Painted By Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836–1912)

In the above painting, the artist Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836–1912) depicted what he believed an ancient Pyrrhic Dance may have looked like to an onlooking audience. The Pyrrhic Dance was a widely popular war dance in the Greek world that featured quick and precise movement. As it was so widespread, the exact motions of the dance and how the dancers were equipped could vary depending on the regions. Plato described the practical usefulness of the Pyrrhic Dance in war-torn Greece:

“It represents modes of eluding all kinds of blows and shots by swervings and duckings and side-leaps upward or crouching; and also the opposite kinds of motion, which lead to active postures of offence, when it strives to represent the movements involved in shooting with bows or darts, and blows of every description.” (Laws, 7.815a).

Despite the dance’s benefits for war training, the Pyrrhic Dance was also popular for pure entertainment. Xenophon—a philosopher, historian and mercenary general—mused in his Anabasis about a time when his army found great entertainment in watching a professional female dancer perform the war dance in front of the troops. According to Xenophon, an innovative mercenary “persuaded one of the Arcadians, who owned a dancing-girl, to let him dress her in the most beautiful costume he could find, give her a light shield, and then bring her on. She performed an elegant version of the Pyrrhic dance and received loud applause” (Anabasis, 6.1).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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Josephus

Josephus (c. 1st century)

“Diligence in a historian is not simply a matter of rearranging the overall scheme and detailed order of someone else’s work, but lies in tackling new subjects and creating a historical structure of one’s own.”

  • The Jewish War (Book I, section 15) by Josephus, translated by Martin Hammond (Oxford University Press, 2017).

Laraje—The Archer Demon

Laraje, as told by occultists and demonologists, is a spirit or demonic being with specialized supernatural powers. According to legend, he was one of 72 demons supposedly controlled by the biblical King Solomon. Most of these demons, listed and described in an uncanny grimoire called the Lemegeton (or the Lesser Key of Solomon) are believed by some to possess all sorts of impressive abilities, including teleportation, fortune telling, control of weather, physical transformation, emotion manipulation, the spreading of disease, and the poltergeist-like ability to topple structures by sheer spiritual force. Laraje, however, apparently shunned most of these magics and supernatural skills to pursue a more tangible craft—archery.

Whereas many of Laraje’s comrades among Solomon’s supposed 72 demonic recruits are said to prefer chimera appearances, taking the shape of certain creatures or mixtures of several animal shapes, Laraje is thought by the occultists to be most comfortable in the familiar shape of a human. Despite looking like a man, he would be easy to pick out from a crowd these days, as his wardrobe reportedly consists of outfits that resemble Peter Pan or Robin Hood costumes. According to the aforementioned Lesser Key of Solomon, “He is a Marquis Great in Power, showing himself in the likeness of an Archer clad in Green, and carrying a Bow and Quiver” (Lesser Key of Solomon, Shemhamphorash, 14). As mentioned by the quote, Laraje is said to be a fairly powerful figure in the supernatural hierarchy, and occult texts (such as the Lemegeton quoted here) claim that around thirty legions of lesser spirits heed his command. Although Laraje evidently does not like to use flashy magical abilities, he is said to have made one exception and, of course, it is connected to archery. This supernatural ability, it is said, allows Laraje to make arrow wounds suddenly petrify at his command. Unfortunately, whether or not he has been able to adapt to the evolution of modern projectile weaponry remains unknown.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: modified and cropped illustration by N. C. Wyeth  (1882–1945) for Paul Creswick’s book Robin Hood and his Merry Outlaws (1917), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons

 

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Rosamund Forced To Drink From The Skull Of Her Father, By Pietro Della Vecchia (1602/1603–1678)

Pietro della Vecchia (c. 1602/1603-1678), an Italian painter based in Venice, painted this unfortunate scene from history. On the right side of the canvas is King Alboin of the Lombards, who became the ruler of his people in the early 560s and continued to rule until around 572. His most famous deed was the role he played in leading the Lombards to Italy, a campaign that began in the year 568. Yet, before he made his great migration, King Alboin conquered a people called the Gepids and killed the Gepid king between 566 and 567. This brings us to the woman dressed in blue on the left side of the canvas. She is Pietro della Vecchia’s representation of Rosamund, the daughter of slain King Cunimund of the Gepids. Rosamund, unfortunately, became Alboin’s wife either by a failed peace negotiation during the war between the Lombards and the Gepids, or through capture and forced marriage after Alboin won the war. Their marriage, understandably, was never warm. Yet, Alboin ensured that no love grew between them by possessing a grisly trophy from his pre-migration war—he was said to have had a chalice built from the skull of Rosamund’s father, the late King Cunimund.

Pietro della Vecchia’s painting is set in Verona, after King Alboin had moved his people to Italy. According to legend, the Lombard king threw a feast there that would cause an irreparable divide between him and his ill-fated bride. Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799) described the supposed scene in his History of the Lombards:

“While he [King Alboin] sat in merriment at a banquet at Verona longer than was proper, with the cup which he had made of the head of his father-in-law, king Cunimund, he ordered it to be given to the queen to drink wine, and he invited her to drink merrily with her father” (History of the Lombards, Book II, chapter 28).

This gruesome event, described by Paul the Deacon and painted by Pietro della Vecchia, caused Rosamund to be justly irate at her husband, and she devoted herself from that time on to bringing about the death of King Alboin. Within a few years, she would successfully orchestrate a plot to assassinate her spouse, killing the Lombard king around 572. As for the skull chalice, Paul the Deacon believed it was an authentic historical item that was possessed by the Lombard royal family up to his own day in the 8th century. He wrote, “Lest this should seem impossible to anyone, I speak the truth in Christ. I saw king Ratchis holding this cup in his hand on a certain festal day to show it to his guests” (History of the Lombards, Book II, chapter 28).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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Anglo-Saxon Chronicle

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (historical record maintained between the 9th and 12th century)

“Alas! how false and how unstable is this world’s wealth! He who was before a powerful king, and lord of many a land, had then of all his land only a portion of seven feet; and he who was whilom decked with gold and with gems, lay then covered over with mould!”

  • The chroniclers wrote this quote after reporting the death of William the Conqueror in their entry for the year 1087. For this quote picture, the Cambridge University Press’ 2012 reprint of Benjamin Thorpe’s 1861 translation was used.

The Bizarre Way Alcibiades Became A Married Man

Alcibiades (c. 450-404 BCE) was a peculiar figure. In life and in history, he attracted ample attention to himself through his genius as a political maneuverer, as well as his egotistical and selfish personality that led him to jump between Athenian, Spartan and Persian courts, lending his services to any side that coincided with his interests. Due to his mischievousness and eye-catching influence on all parties involved in the Peloponnesian War (c. 431-404 BCE), trivia about Alcibiades was fairly widespread among ancient Greek sources.  As such, details of his early life, his political heyday, and his death in exile were recorded by various writers. The biographer Plutarch (c. 50-120) commented on how much more information could be found about Alcibiades as opposed to other famous Greeks from the Peloponnesian War era:

“Certain it is, that, though we have no account from any writer concerning the mother of Nicias or Demosthenes, of Lamachus or Phormion, of Thrasybulus or Theramenes, notwithstanding these were all illustrious men of the same period, yet we know even the nurse of Alcibiades, that her country was Lacedaemon, and her name was Amycla; and that Zopyrus was his teacher and attendant; the one being recorded by Antisthenes, and the other by Plato” (Parallel Lives, Life of Alcibiades, 1).

With such scrutiny on Alcibiades’ daily activities, stories and anecdotes were recorded about almost every phase of his life, from cradle to grave. Yet, quantity does not always mean quality, and many of the tales about Alcibiades have a heavy dose of folklore and exaggeration. One such bizarre tale concerns how Alcibiades became a married man. Not too surprisingly, the tale involves one of Alcibiades’ most famous personal traits—his fondness for lavish parties.

One day, as the story goes, Alcibiades was out partying hard with his friends and—as often happens—they soon lost all judgment and inhibitions due to drink. In the midst of their happy buzz, the celebrants spontaneously began challenging each other to audacious dares. When it came time for Alcibiades to accept one of these dares, the inebriated carousers chimed that he should find a certain rich and respected man, named Hipponicus, and bop him on the ear. The naturally unscrupulous Alcibiades was even more indifferent to right and wrong during that particular party, so he eagerly prowled Athens for his target. When he found poor Hipponicus, he gave the unsuspecting man a strong smack on the ear and escaped to inform his friends of his success. On this incident Plutarch wrote, “this he did unprovoked by any passion or quarrel between them, but only because, in a frolic, he had agreed with his companions to do it. People were justly offended at this insolence, when it became known through the city” (Parallel Lives, Life of Alcibiades, 8).

Facing the community’s disapproving glare over having thwacked the ear of a respected gentleman, Alcibiades decided the only way to regain his reputation was to humble himself before his victim and plead forgiveness. As the story goes, the young Athenian sought his absolution in a very public way. He traveled to Hipponicus’ home and, once allowed inside, he handed the man some sort of flail or whip and, with great pageantry, disrobed to expose his back to Hipponicus. With all of this done, Alcibiades told the man to take whatever retribution on his flesh he desired. Hipponicus, however, did not inflict any pain or punishment on Alcibiades. Instead, according to Plutarch, “Hipponicus forgot all his resentment, and not only pardoned him, but soon after gave him his daughter Hipparete in marriage” (Parallel Lives, Life of Alcibiades, 8). Such was the way Alcibiades was allegedly introduced to his wife and in-laws. As can be guessed by his eccentric, mischievous and bawdy lifestyle, he later proved to not be a very good husband to his wife from this arranged marriage.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Socrates Tears Alcibiades from the Embrace of Pleasure, by Jean-Baptiste Regnault (1754–1829), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons.jpg).
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Fredegund Watching The Marriage Of Chilperic And Galswintha, Painted By Lawrence Alma-Tadema (c. 1835-1912)

Lawrence Alma-Tadema (c. 1836-1912), a Dutchman by birth and an Englishman by choice, painted this historically-inspired scene. The piece is set in a royal court of 6th-century France, ruled at that time by the Merovingian Dynasty of the Franks. The woman in the forefront of the painting is Fredegund, a servant-turned-concubine of King Chilperic I of Soissons (r. 561-584). She stares out from her dark room at a wedding ceremony—the wedding of her lover, Chilperic—which occurred around 566 or 567. King Chilperic was marrying Princess Galswintha, a daughter of King Athanagild of the Visigoths (r. 551/554-567). Despite the wedding, Fredegund’s influence over Chilperic was in no way over. She was a sly and competent woman, and she made sure that King Chilperic did not lose interest in her. Fredegund ultimately forced the king to choose between herself and the foreign princess. King Chilperic chose Fredegund and they horrifically had Galswintha murdered in 567 or 568. This crime, however, quickly caused political chaos, as Chilperic’s brother, King Sigebert of Austrasia (r. 561-575), had married Galswintha’s sister, Brunhild. The murder would launch a decades-long, multi-generational feud between Queen Brunhild and Queen Fredegund, who drove their husbands and offspring to go to war against each other.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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