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Hromund the Lame

Hromund the Lame (Icelandic settler said to have lived around the 10th or 11th century)

“I’m not doomed to die
today or yesterday,
I’m getting ready
to go to war.
The soldiers don’t worry me,
waving their red shields,
long ago our destiny
was decided.”

  • A poem attributed to Hromund the Lame recorded by Sturla Thordarson in chapter 168 of the Sturlubók (produced c. 1275-1280), the oldest existent version of the Icelandic Book of Settlements. The translation used here was by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards (University of Manitoba Press, 1772, 2006).

The Fortuitous Expedition Of Zhuang Qiao

During the reign of King Wei of Chu (r. 339-328 BCE), a nobleman named Zhuang Qiao was selected to lead an army of Chu warriors into the regions west of the kingdom. As the story goes, he trekked without much difficulty into the ancient western provinces of Ba, Shu and Qianzhong, then began campaigning downward against the so-called Southwestern Barbarians. Zhuang Qiao reportedly did not halt his army’s march until he reached Lake Dian in Yunnan Province. It was there, at that lake, where Zuang Qiao was said to have stopped to contemplate a return trip to Chu.

As the army at Lake Dian prepared for their homeward journey, they began to receive troubling news from the warring kingdoms back in the ancient Chinese heartland. They learned that Chu and other kingdoms had come under increasing pressure from an expanding state—Qin. King Huiwen (r. 337-311) of Qin and his successors were expanding their kingdom’s power and influence at an alarming rate, setting their dynasty on a path to eventually subjugate all of China by the late 3rd century BCE.

When Zhuang Qiao heard of the pressures and troubles faced by the kingdom of Chu, he had a selfish and opportunistic reaction. Instead of rushing home with his army to aid in the defense of Chu, Zhuang Qiao was said to have convinced his army to stay with him in the region of Lake Dian and to create their own dominion. Grand Historian Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE) commented on this, writing that Zhuang Qiao “returned to Lake Dian and with the men under his command made himself ruler of Dian, adopting native dress, following the customs of the people, and acting as their chief” (Shi Ji 116).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Image painted by Li Gonglin (1049–1106), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

 

Sources:

Coriolanus Confronted By His Family, Painted By Soma Orlai Petrich (1822–1880)

A Hungarian artist, Soma Orlai Petrich (1822–1880), painted the above scene, which depicts an event from the history of the ancient Roman Republic. Center stage—the seated man with a worried look on his face—is an artistic rendition of an ancient man named Gnaeus Marcius Coriolanus. He was said to have been a powerful figure in Rome who lived at the turn of the 6th and 5th century BCE. According to legend and tradition, Coriolanus rose to prominence as a war hero in the Roman army, and he used his reputation to ascend the political ranks in Rome. As a politician, Coriolanus reportedly sided with the oligarchic ruling class, and he allegedly masterminded several schemes to oppress the Roman commoners. He was said to have become way too extreme in his political maneuverings, however, and in the end, he was prosecuted by the outraged common masses. As Coriolanus had become too controversial, Rome’s oligarchs abandoned him and made no attempt to stop his banishment.

Unfortunately for Rome, Coriolanus was intent on revenge. As the story goes, the exiled warrior soon found asylum with one of the greatest enemies of the Roman people at that time—the Volscians.  Bitter about the oligarchs and commoners uniting against him, Coriolanus offered his military experience to the Volscian forces, and he allegedly became a general or advisor for their army. According to the Roman historian, Livy, Coriolanus helped the Volscians wage war against Rome from around 490-488 BCE, and he besieged Rome itself in the last year of the conflict.

During the siege, the Romans were said to have sent a very special delegation to negotiate with Coriolanus. Among the group were three generations of his family, including his mother, his wife, and his children, all begging for him to end his siege of Rome. This scene of Coriolanus being confronted by his family was captured by Soma Orlai Petrich in the painting shown above. The historian, Livy, similarly described the incident in his History of Rome:

“Coriolanus was profoundly moved; almost beside himself, he started from his seat and, running to his mother, would have embraced her had he not been checked by her sudden turn to anger…His wife and children flung their arms round him; the other women all burst into tears of anguish for themselves and their country, until at last Coriolanus could bear no more. He kissed his wife and the two boys, sent them home, and withdrew his army” (History of Rome, 2.40).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

  • The History of Rome by Livy, translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt. New York: Penguin Classics, 2002.

Emperor Tiberius (recorded by Tacitus)

Emperor Tiberius (r. 14-37)

“I was sent into Germany nine times by the divine Augustus, and I achieved less by force than by diplomacy.”

  • A quote attributed to Tiberius in The Annals of Imperial Rome (II.26), by Tacitus, translated by Michael Grant (Penguin Classics, 1996).

The Christmas Feud Of Sichar, Austregesil And Chramnesind

In the late 6th century, a feud broke out between two well-connected families from the city of Tours. Disagreements spiraled into violence around the year 585, with the fatal spark ironically igniting during a Christmas celebration at a village called Manthelan. As the story goes, Sichar and Austregesil—both influential citizens from Tours—were present for a festival hosted by a priest of Manthelan during Christmastime. During the course of the festivities, Austregesil somehow killed a servant, causing quite the uproar at the party. Yet, as Austregesil was a very influential man, he was confident of being able to escape any serious consequences for the killing. Sichar, however, was an acquaintance of both the priest hosting the party and the servant who had been slain. Fueled by food and drink from the festivities, Sichar publicly vowed to seek vengeance against Austregesil. This gossip eventually made its way to Austregesil, himself, and before long, the festival-goers were picking sides, rallying to the side of the murderer or the avenger. Contrary to the Christmas spirit, the two factions eventually ended up in a deadly brawl. Sichar’s group recieved the worst of it and retreated to the local priest’s home. Once inside, Sichar ensured that the priest would take care of a few of his injured friends, and then he wisely fled from the village. Not long after Sichar escaped, Austregesil and his rowdy thugs found their way to the priest’s house, where they killed the injured people left behind there and stole whatever they could get their hands on, including items belonging to both Sichar and the church.

In Manthelan, a tribunal of citizens began formulating a case against Austregesil for the murders and the thefts, yet before they could put the man on trial, Sichar decided to launch his own raid against a household belonging to Austregesil’s supporters. Austregesil was in some way related to a man named Chramnesind, whose father, uncle and brother were tasked with guarding Austregesil’s recent ill-gotten gains. It was the household of this trio that Sichar struck. In a raid at night, Sichar attacked the property and killed the father, uncle and brother of Chramnesind. Sichar went on to loot the estate, taking anything that could be moved. He even went so far as to steal the animals in the pasture.

At this point Bishop Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594) tried to intervene to stop the feud between the two factions in his flock. The bishop, who recorded the tale of this feud for posterity, attempted without success to bring about a peaceful end. Chramnesind wrested control of the anti-Sichar faction out of Austregesil’s hands and refused to make amends. Instead, he vowed to take revenge for the deaths of his father, uncle and brother.

Sensing the risk of danger from Chramnesind and his supporters, Sichar decided to flee from Tours and sought the protection of Queen Dowager Brunhild and her son, King Childebert II (r. 575-596). When Sichar abandoned his home, Chramnesind seized the opportunity to get some revenge. Rallying his supporters, the vengeance-seeker marched his mob to Sichar’s estates in Tours and went on a rampage. Slaves and servants were killed, anything not bolted down was stolen, and all of Sichar’s cattle were driven away. As a final touch, Chramnesind set fire to buildings and structures on his enemy’s land.

With the death and destruction caused by the feud continuing to escalate, Bishop Gregory of Tours, now aided by other authority figures, was able to bring Sichar and Chramnesind into negotiation. Both sides were fined, but as property belonging to the two rival leaders had been destroyed in the feud, the penalties were not too harsh. Upon reaching their agreement, Sichar and Chramnesind settled back down in Tours and tried to coexist. They surprisingly succeeded at the near-impossible task for a few years, successfully maintaining the facade of happy neighbors. Yet, Chramnesind could not bury his hate for Sichar, and his pent-up emotions eventually led to murder. The killing occurred between the years 587 and 588, and he did not stop with the act of murder, itself. According to the aforementioned Gregory of Tours, “Chramnesind stripped Sichar’s corpse of its clothes and hung it from a post in his garden-fence. He then climbed on a horse and went off to find the King” (History of the Franks, IX.19). As it had been Sichar, not Chramnesind, who had been favored by Queen Dowager Brunhild and King Childebert II, news of the murder was not well received by the royals. In consequence, Chramnesind had to flee to the realm of King Guntram of Burgundy (r. 561-593), who happened to be Childebert’s uncle. During Chramnesind’s exile, his property was sequestered, yet he was said to have eventually succeeded in having his lands restored to his possession.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Peasants Brawling by Hans Sebald Beham, German, 1500–1550, [Public Domain] via Smithsonian Institute Open Access and Creative Commons).
Sources:

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

Thórarin Nefjólfsson And King Olaf II Of Norway, Illustrated By Christian Krohg (1852–1925)

Above is an illustration by Christian Krohg (c. 1852-1925), which captures a supposed scene from the life of King Olaf II of Norway (r. 1015-1028). Although best known as a painter, Christian Krohg produced a series of black-and-white scenes in 1899 for a reproduction of the Heimskringla, an ambitious text by the historian Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241). It traced the history of Norway from mythical times up to the reign of King Magnus Erlingsson (r. 1162-1184) through a series of saga-biographies. The illustration featured above is located well into the text, taking inspiration from chapter 85 of Saint Olaf’s Saga in the Heimskringla.

To set the scene for the illustration, King Olaf II was staying at Túnsberg (now Tønsberg), Norway, when a prominent Icelandic merchant named Thórarin Nefjólfsson arrived in the vicinity. The merchant was an intelligent, eloquent and candid individual, yet he was unfortunately known quite famously for another quality—ugliness. Due to Thórarin’s wealth, influence and good character, he was invited to personally stay with King Olaf for the remainder of his stay in the city, even having the honor of being able to sleep in the same hall as the king and his close entourage.

During this regal sleep-over, however, Thórarin Nefjólfsson faced a fair bit of jesting over his ugliness. King Olaf II shared in these jokes about the merchant’s appearance, giving him a particularly hard time about his feet. One morning, while the members of King Olaf’s party were beginning to rise from their bunks in the hall where they slept, the king spotted one of Thórarin’s bare feet sticking out from under his covers. Seizing the moment, King Olaf II lightheartedly proclaimed for all to hear in the hall that Thórarin’s foot was the ugliest foot in all of Túnsberg. The merchant, for his part, disputed the king’s claim that the uncovered foot was the ugliest in the town. To prove his point, Thórarin Nefjólfsson brought out his other foot—the one that was hitherto still covered—and waved it around for his audience in the hall. The new foot had a toe or two amputated for some reason or other, and therefore the merchant claimed it was uglier than the first. This triumphant presentation of the second foot is what Christian Krogh captured in the above illustration.

For a fuller account of this tale and King Olaf’s response, read about it HERE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Scene of Thorarin Nefjolfsson and King Olaf II illustrated by Christian Krohg (1852–1925), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

Christine de Pizan

 

Christine de Pizan (c. 1364-1430)

“Those who criticize the female sex because they are inherently sinful are men who have wasted their youth on dissolute behavior and who have had affairs with many different women.”

  • The Book of the City of Ladies (Part I, chapter 8) by Christine de Pizan, translated by Rosalind Brown-Grant (Penguin Classics, 1999).

Alexander The Great Refuses To Take Water, Painted By Giuseppe Cades (c. 1750–1799)

Above is a painting by the Italian artist, Giuseppe Cades (c. 1750–1799). This particular feat of art is thought to have been completed in 1792. Known for drawing upon literature and history for his work, Giuseppe Cades used an event from the life of Alexander the Great (r. 336-323 BCE) as inspiration for this piece of art. Historians, even in ancient times, debated where exactly the incident in question took place. The biographer, Plutarch, proposed it was early in Alexander’s campaign, while the conqueror was chasing the Persian king, Darius III (d. 330 BCE). Historians, Curtius and Arrian, disagreed—the former claimed the scene took place in Sogdiana, while the latter chose Alexander’s harrowing crossing of the unforgiving Gedrosian Desert as the setting of the story.

Wherever the tale in question might have occurred, it was a location where Alexander the Great and his troops were marching over long stretches of inhospitable terrain. Of all the problems they faced in the region, lack of drinkable water posed the greatest threat. During the army’s tortuous trek through the dry and scalding landscape, Alexander reportedly led by example and tried not to consume any more food or drink than what was available to the average warrior serving under his command in the midst of that trying time. Giuseppe Cades’ painting depicts one such instance when Alexander publicly shared in the hardships of his comrades, who, at the time, were deathly close to dying of thirst. Arrian narrated the story as follows:

“As they toiled on, a party of light infantry which had gone off looking for water found some—just a wretched little trickle collected in a shallow gully. They scooped up with difficulty what they could and hurried back, with their priceless treasure, to Alexander; then, just before they reached him, they tipped the water into a helmet and gave it to him. Alexander with a word of thanks for the gift, took the helmet and, in full view of his troops, poured the water on the ground. So extraordinary was the effect of this action that the water wasted by Alexander was as good as a drink for every man in the army” (Anabasis/The Campaigns of Alexander, 6.26).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

The Tale Of Thor’s Epic Fishing Trip

All fishermen have a favorite tale they tell about a huge creature they one day hauled up from the depths, or the even more monstrous beasts that were able to escape from their lines. Try as these fishermen storytellers might to exaggerate and embellish their sailor yarns, their nautical fishing deeds will never measure up to the epic haul that the famous Norse god, Thor, was said to have pulled up from the ocean. One particular fishing trip where Thor reportedly fished alongside a giant became a popular myth among followers of the Norse religion, and the Vikings brought that story with them on their voyages. As such, picture stones depicting the tale in question can be found in places such as Scandinavia and the British Isles. The Gosforth Fishing Stone in Cumbria, England, dated to the 10th or 11th century, is one example. Thor’s epic fishing trip was also included in Hymir’s Poem (or Hymiskvida), preserved in the 13th-century Poetic Edda, and Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241) also wrote down another version of the myth in his Prose Edda.

Details of Thor’s fishing trip vary slightly between the accounts presented by stone, poetry and prose. They all agree, however, that Thor and a giant (named Hymir by the written sources) fished together, and during that time Thor used a peculiar type of bait for his line. In Hymir’s Poem, Thor arrived in the domain of the giant while on a quest to find a huge cauldron for an upcoming feast of the gods. In Snorri’s Prose Edda, the god and Hymir made their fateful encounter at a time when Thor was aimlessly wandering in the guise of a small boy. During Thor’s stay in Hymir’s domain, he and the giant decided to go out fishing together. The hammer-wielding god either led the way in suggesting the trip, or he followed the giant’s lead. Whatever the case, before heading to the ship, Thor made a visit to the giant’s pastures to gather bait. There, among the livestock, he found his unfortunate fish food—an ox. Using his super strength, Thor ripped off the head of the choicest beast and brought the fresh ox head with him to where Hymir’s ship was waiting.

Killing the giant’s prized animal was a bad start to the relationship between Thor and Hymir, but tensions would only continue to rise as the fishing trip progressed. Both fishermen were extremely competitive, each wanting to haul up a bigger prize than their rival. In addition, Thor was rudely dismissive of Hymir’s favorite fishing spots, and kept insisting that they should row farther out into deeper water. Thor’s persistence won out, and Hymir unhappily allowed himself to be brought out to where the water’s depth was greatest. As they rowed out over the watery void, the giant warned Thor that they had entered a section of the ocean where the mighty Midgard Serpent was known to travel.

Now that Thor was pleased with their fishing location, the pair began casting their lines. Hymir, an experienced fisherman, struck first by making an incredible catch before Thor could even prepare his bait. Hymir’s Poem described the scene:

“The brave and famous Hymir alone caught
two whales at once on his hook,
and back in the stern Odin’s kinsman,
Thor, cunningly laid out his line.”
(Poetic Edda, Hymir’s Poem, stanza 21)

Although the giant, Hymir, had hauled up two whales with little difficulty or effort, Thor had a much bigger prize in mind. Securing the freshly detached ox head to his line, the god made his cast and sent the hook and bait sinking down into the depths. Thor’s timing could not have been more perfect. As the ox head sank toward the seabed, it happened to fall in front of the face of the Midgard Serpent. The behemoth of a snake took the bait and eagerly chomped on the ox head, initiating a battle of strength between the Norse pantheon’s greatest warrior versus a serpent so huge that it wrapped around the world. Snorri Sturluson skillfully narrated the scene:

“The Midgard Serpent opened its mouth and swallowed the ox head. The hook dug into the gums of its mouth, and when the serpent felt this, he snapped back so hard that both of Thor’s fists slammed against the gunwale. Thor now became angry and, taking on his divine strength, he strained so hard that both his feet pushed through the bottom of the boat. Using the sea floor to brace himself, he began pulling the serpent up on board” (Prose Edda, Gylfaginning, 48).

The showdown between Thor and the serpent was truly epic, with huge rogue waves rolling this way and that way because of the writhing of the beast under the water. Thor, in a trance of determination, kept reeling the Midgard Serpent’s head closer and closer to the surface, eventually causing the monster’s mountainous face to emerge from the water. While Hymir was paralyzed by shock and fear, Thor eagerly grabbed his mighty hammer, Mjölnir, and began bashing the great snake over the head. In Hymir’s Poem, the Midgard Serpent survived the blows and was able to finally break free from the line and return to the safety of the ocean. Yet, in Snorri Sturluson’s account, Hymir recovered from his shock and cut Thor’s fishing line to put an end to the apocalyptic battle—in the prose version, this caused Thor to throw Hymir overboard in anger. Hymir’s Poem, however, claimed that the giant and the god simply rowed home, both of them angry at the other. As for Thor and the Midgard Serpent, they would meet again at Ragnarok, where they would bring about mutual destruction.

 

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (left: Midgard Serpent found in the 17th-century Icelandic manuscript AM 738 4to. Right: Scene of Thor, Hymir and the Midgard Serpent found in the 18th-century Icelandic manuscript SÁM 66, both [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

  • The Prose Edda by Snorri Sturluson, translated by Jesse Byock. New York: Penguin Classics, 2005.
  • Hymir’s Poem, an old poem which was preserved in the 13th-century Poetic Edda which was produced anonymously in Iceland. Translation by Carolyne Larrington (Oxford University Press, 2014).

Lao Tzu

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

“The empire is a sacred vessel and nothing should be done to it. Whoever does anything to it will ruin it; whoever lays hold of it will lose it.”

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