Home Blog Page 27

Mysterious Kallinikos of Heliopolis, The Creator Of Greek Fire

By
thehistorianshut
-

Kallinikos (also spelled Callinicus) was a brilliant 7th-century artificer and engineer from Heliopolis. There is some debated evidence that he may have been Jewish. Whatever the case, Kallinikos’ family lived in Syria, which had fallen out of the Empire of Constantinople’s sphere of influence following the disastrous defeat of its forces by an Arab army at the Battle of Yarmuk (c. 636). Kallinikos eventually fled as a refugee from Syria, ultimately relocating to the imperial city of Constantinople. During the reign of Emperor Constantine IV (r. 668-685), Kallinikos became a leader of a top-secret project in Constantinople’s research and development department. In particular, Kallinikos was credited with inventing a flammable concoction that, when lit, could cover anything it touched with inextinguishable flames, and this fiery concoction could even float and burn on water. This Greek Fire, as it was called, was basically medieval napalm. A flame-thrower delivery method was developed in which the Greek Fire could be sprayed and set alight at a distance, posing a great threat to men and ships, alike.

A chronicler from Constantinople named Theophanes (c. 750s-818) wrote of Kallinikos and the first uses of Greek Fire in his Chronographia. Curiously, he mentioned the deployment of Greek Fire first, in an entry for Annus Mundi 6164 (September 672-August 673), and then spoke of Kallinikos in the following entry (Annus Mundi 6165 [September 673-August 674]), almost like an afterthought. The two references, rearranged for chronology, were as follows: “At that time Kallinikos, an artificer from Heliopolis, fled to the Romans. He had devised a sea fire which ignited the Arab ships and burned them with all hands. Thus it was that the Romans returned with victory and discovered the sea fire” (Theophanes, Chronographia, Annus Mundi 6165). Next, describing how Greek Fire was deployed in sea combat, Theophanes wrote, “When Constantine [IV] learned of the movement of God’s enemies against Constantinople, he prepared huge two-storied war-ships equipped with Greek fire and siphon-carrying warships, ordering them to anchor in the Proklianesian harbor of the Caesarium” (Theophanes, Chronographia, Annus Mundi 6164). Kallinikos’ Greek Fire proved to be a most useful weapon, turning the tide in Emperor Constantine IV’s struggle against Arab assaults.

Kallinikos likely oversaw several deployments of Greek Fire during his lifetime. The first use is somewhat disputed. Some scholars believe that Greek Fire may have been used during a sea battle off the Lycian coast in 671, but most historians place the first use of Greek Fire at the sea battle of Cyzicus in 673. Whatever the case, the deployment of Greek Fire was perfected during the Arab siege of Constantinople between 674 and 678, during which time Kallinikos’ flammable concoction wreaked havoc on the Arab fleet, forcing the Arabs to withdraw.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (illustration of medicine production, from Dispersed Manuscript of an Arabic Translation of De Materia Medica of Dioscorides, by Calligrapher Abdullah ibn al Fadl (c 1224), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

Sources:

Alexander The Great With His Generals, By The Master of Jean de Mandeville (c. 1350 – 1370)

By
thehistorianshut
-

An artist known as the Master of Jean de Mandeville (c. 1350 – 1370) created this manuscript illustration for a work called the Bible Historiale. Although the figures in the artwork look medieval in style, and the title of the text references the Bible, the artwork depicts a historical event that was neither medieval nor biblical. Instead, the artwork is meant to re-create a famous scene of Alexander the Great (r. 336-323 BCE) on his deathbed in Babylon. The incident in question is one of the more debated events from the Macedonian king’s life, as even the most ancient sources disagreed about the manner of Alexander’s death, as well as his final words to his trusted officers. Whatever the case, Alexander the Great fell incredibly ill after a heavy night of partying at Babylon in 323 BCE. By morning, he was bedridden and his health (deteriorated by an unhealthy lifestyle, disease or poison) never recovered. Alexander died at the young age of 32 years, an untimely death that would lead to the massacre of his family and the division of his hard-won empire between his ambitious generals. The Greek-Roman warrior and scholar, Arrian (c. 90-173+), summarized some of the differing reports of Alexander’s final moments, writing “The accounts of Ptolemy and Aristobulus end at this point [with the king’s death]. Other writers have added that the high officers most closely in his confidence asked him to name his successor, and that Alexander’s reply was ‘the best man’” (Anabasis of Alexander, Book 7, section 27). It is this scene of Alexander addressing his generals that the Master of Jean de Mandeville re-creates in his illustration.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Bede

By
thehistorianshut
-

Bede (c. 673-735)

“Battles were Virgil’s theme; let peace be mine,
Chanting in lieu of Helen’s wantonness
Divine compassion, to redeem and bless.”

  • From Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People (and relevant letters), Book 4, chapter 20, translated by Leo Sherley-Pride, R. E. Latham and D. H. Farmer (Penguin Classics, 2003).

The Amusing Imagination Of Lucian Of Samosata

By
thehistorianshut
-

Lucian of Samosata (c. 120-180+), a witty Roman satirist, was amused by the overly fantastical and otherworldly nature of ancient myths, legends, and exotic travel tales, as well as the populace’s willingness to believe that the outlandish tales were true. With these themes and topics in mind, the satirist decided to try his hand at writing an obviously fake history, filled with the most bizarre and ridiculous descriptions imaginable. The resulting literary masterpiece was Lucian’s A True History series, in which the author forthrightly warned, “I am writing about things I neither saw nor experienced nor heard about from others, which moreover don’t exist, and in any case could not exist. My readers must therefore entirely disbelieve them” (Lucian, A True History I, section 4). With this disclaimer out of the way, Lucian let loose a wonderful outflowing of imagination, culminating in a wild ride of creative literature that reads very much like a fantasy short story.

Lucian’s A True History series is set in a scenario similar to that of the Odyssey by Homer (c. 8th century BCE) and Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift (c. 1667-1745). Lucian’s characters in the narrative are seafaring adventurers who find themselves sailing into more and more magical and weird lands, encountering all sorts of odd life forms with peculiar habits and lifestyles. From warring factions fighting on the moon and islands filled with curious hybrid species, to civilizations living in a monstrous whale, and even an environment completely themed around dairy products, Lucian’s A True History has a little bit of everything.

One of the first fantastical entities that Lucian brought into his tale was a type of grapevine women. He wrote, “we found a most extraordinary kind of grapevine. In each one the trunk itself that came out of the ground was thick and well-grown, but the upper part was a woman, perfectly formed from the waist up: just like the paintings we’ve seen of Daphne changing into a tree when Apollo is about to catch her. Out of their fingertips grew branches covered in grapes. Even the hair on their heads was formed of tendrils and leaves and grape-clusters” (A True History I, section 8). Naturally, the vine-women turned out to be dangerous, entangling in their roots the men who got too close.

After fleeing the vine-women, the sailors became caught in a storm and, similar to Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, they were whisked (ship and all) up into the sky by a whirlwind. Their vessel now turned into a spaceship, the adventurers found themselves stuck in the middle of a celestial battle between the warring factions of the Sun (led by Phaethon) and the Moon (led by Endymion). Lucian’s adventurers were recruited by the lord of the Moon and joined his otherworld army. The forces of Endymion and Phaethon were made up of more hybrid species, as well as men riding atop of giant wildlife. To name a few, the armies of the Sun and Moon consisted of units such as Vulture-Cavalry, Ant-Cavalry, Cabbage-Wingers, Millet-Shooters, Garlic-Fighters, Flea-Archers, Wind-Runners, Sparrow-Acorns, Crane-Cavalry, Grass-Wingers, giant celestial spiders, Sky-Gnats, Sky-Dancers, mushroom-themed people, dog-faced men, and Cloud-Centaurs.

On the Cabbage-Wingers, Lucian wrote, “This is a massive bird, which is covered all over thickly with cabbage instead of feathers and has wings much resembling lettuce-leaves.” (A True History I, section 13). The Wind-Runners were amusingly described as infantry “borne through the air without wings. Their method of flight is that they girdle up their long tunics to form folds that fill with wind like sails, and so they are carried along like boats” (A True History I, section 13). As for the giant spiders, Lucian imagined them being used to create walkable bridges in the space between planets and stars. The satirist wrote, “Spiders in that region are numerous and very large–each of them much bigger than the Cyclades islands. These were ordered by Endymion to cover with a web the air between the moon and the morning star. As soon as they had done this and created a plain, he deployed the infantry…” (A True History I, section 15). For the Sky-Dancers, they were interesting not because of their appearance, but because of what they used to fight. As told by Lucian, “they catapulted enormous radishes at long range, and anyone so struck collapsed immediately and died of a foul-smelling wound” (A True History I, section 16). Also known for their equipment were the so-called Stalk-Mushrooms, whose “name arises from the fact that they used mushrooms for shields and asparagus stalks for spears” (A True History I, section 16). Conversely, the so-called Dog-Acorns were notable for their biology, as well as their mounts. Lucian wrote, “Beside them stood the Dog-Acorns, sent to him by the inhabitants of the Dog Star: these were five thousand dog-faced men, who fight mounted on winged acorns” (A True History I, section 16). These were the kinds of odd entities that made up the armies of Endymion and Phaethon in their celestial war.

Endymion and Phaethon battled it out and soon came to a peace agreement. Lucian’s adventurers, still stuck in space, took a tour of the moon and realized it had a womanless society. “Firstly,” Lucian wrote, “they are not born of women but of men: they marry men, and they don’t even have a word for woman. Up to the age of 25 each acts as a wife, and after that as a husband. They carry their babies not in the belly but in the calf of the leg” (A True History I, section 22). Another, more disgusting, example of life in space was a type of being that originated after a man’s genitalia had been planted in the ground. Lucian graphically explained, “From this grows a very large tree, made of flesh and shaped like a phallus, with branches and leaves, and fruit in the form of acorns a cubit long. When these are ripe they pick them and shell out the man” (A True History I, section 22). Most curiously, Lucian imagined a city in space that was entirely inhabited by living lamps. On them, Lucian wrote, “we arrived around evening at Lamp City…We landed, but couldn’t find any men, only a lot of lamps rushing around, and busy in the square and around the harbour. Some were small and poor-looking, but a few, who were large and powerful, shone very bright and clear. They all have their own separate houses and lamp stands, and they have names like men, and we could hear them speak” (A True History I, section 29). Also of note in space was a location with a well of knowledge that allowed people to hear all conversations and see all cities. As told by Lucian, “A large mirror is placed over a well, which isn’t very deep, and if you go down the well you can hear everything that is said amongst us on earth; and if you look into the mirror you can see all the cities and all the countries, as if you were actually standing in each” (A True History I, section 26). After bizarre sights such as these, the adventurers and their ship managed to safely float back down to earth and settled safely on the ocean.

Not long after returning to sea, the adventurers began to be chased by sea monsters. Among the monstrosities was a behemoth of a whale, which caught the seafarers and swallowed them whole. Inside the belly of the whale, the adventurers found many islands that were forested and populated with life. Lucian’s sailors fortuitously landed on a safe island, inhabited mainly by an old man and a boy—both perfectly human. On all other nearby islands, however, there were a wide variety of hostile tribes of mutated beings. On these local tribes, Lucian wrote, “In the western or tail-end of the forest live the Saltfish tribe, with their eel’s eyes and crayfish faces; they are quarrelsome, bold, and flesh-eating. On one side, by the right-hand wall, are Sea-Satyrs, who are like men in their upper halves and lizards in their lower” (A True History I, section 35). Other mutant tribe names included Crabclaws, Tunnyheads, Crabs and Solefeet. They were intelligent and sentient beings, makings alliances among themselves and using oysters as a currency. Despite their intelligence, the tribes had one major flaw—they used primitive weapons. Exploiting this weakness, Lucian’s adventurers declared war on the mutant tribes and slaughtered all of the non-humans with their superior weaponry. After conquering the inside of the whale and living there for a while, the adventurers ultimately decided to escape from the sea monster and return to the open sea. To do this, they set fire to the forested islands inside the whale and managed to prop open the monster’s mouth.

After escaping the whale, Lucian’s adventurers noticed the color of the sea was changing, and even nearby islands were beginning to look peculiar. Upon further inspection, the sailors made a shocking discovery. Lucian wrote, “we came to a sea of milk, instead of water, and a white island appeared in it, full of vines. The island was composed of a huge cheese, as we learned later by eating it, and it was about three miles in circuit. And the vines were covered in grapes, but when we squeezed and drank them, it wasn’t wine but milk” (A True History II, section 3).  Upon setting sail from Cheese Island and leaving the milk sea, the crew encountered cork-footed people who could walk on water. Lucian wrote, “We were astonished to see them not sinking, but travelling about confidently on the top of the waves. Some of them approached us and greeted us in Greek, saying that they were making for their native Corkland” (A True History II, section 4). Leaving behind the Corkfeet from Corkland, the sailors found their way to the Isle of the Blest, also known as the Island of the Blessed, home to afterlife-themed locales such as the City of the Blessed, the Elysian Plain, and a Tartarus-styled Place of Punishment.

The City of the Blessed was a place of valuable treasures, both naturally and made by hand. Lucian wrote, “The city itself is made entirely of gold, and there is an emerald wall surrounding it. There are seven gates, all made of cinnamon-trunks. The foundations of the city and the ground area within the walls are ivory. Then there are temples of all the gods built of beryl, which contain huge monolithic altars of amethyst on which they offer sacrifices. Around the city flows a river of the finest myrrh, a hundred royal cubits wide…” (A True History II, section 11). Inhabiting the precious city were ghostly entities, described as bodyless souls that retained human shape and sentience. On these spectral beings, Lucian wrote, “naked souls go around clad in a likeness of a body. Indeed, if you didn’t touch them you couldn’t prove that what you saw wasn’t a body: they are like upright shadows, though not black. No one grows old, but stays the same age he was when he arrived there” (A True History II, section 12). These beings lived in the light of an eternal dawn and in the season of an eternal spring. They were sustained by rivers of milk and wine, as well as orchards that provided more fruit than they could eat and fields that grew grains that magically baked themselves into bread.

Similar overabundant living conditions were present in the Elysian Plain. There, crystal trees grew crystal cups that would magically fill with wine after being plucked from the trees. Many familiar names were present at the festivities held in the Elysian fields. Lucian named many demigods, legendary figures and famed individuals. Among them were Homer, Hesiod, Odysseus, Eunomus of Locris, Arion of Lesbos, Anacreon, Stesichorus, the Cyruses of Persia, Anacharsis of Scythia, Zamolxis of Thrace, Numa from Rome, Lycurgus of Sparta, Phocion and Tellos of Athens, as well as Socrates, Nestor, Palamedes, Hyacinthus, Narcissus, Hylus, Aristippus, Zenodotus, Aristarchus, Epicurus, Aesop, Diogenes, Achilles, Theseus, Pythagoras, and even the Corinthian courtesan, Lais.

While Lucian’s adventurers were rubbing elbows with this famous crowd, they received word that there had just been a prison break in the Place of Punishment, resulting in some of the most devious villains of ancient Greek mythology escaping. The demigods and heroes at the Elysian Plain quickly mobilized and did battle with the villains. As the heroes had defeated all of the villains before in previous tales of myth, it was a straightforward and easy battle, ending with the villains being safely placed back in confinement. Prison break aside, the Elysian Plain was a drama-filled place. A second Trojan War was nearly started when Helen was once again kidnapped by a hero of Elysium, and Odysseus clandestinely recruited Lucian’s adventurers to send a letter to his former lover, Calypso.

Accepting Odysseus’ request, the adventurers departed from the Island of the Blessed. With Calypso’s island a long way off, the crew made a stop at the nearby Island of Dreams. This elaborately-described place was dominated by Sleep Harbour and a sanctuary of the Rooster. The local city was surrounded by a rainbow-like wall with four access points. On this, Lucian wrote, “The city wall is high and multi-colored, very like a rainbow to look at, and it has four gates in it…Two of these look towards the Plain of Stupor, one made of iron and the other earthenware: it is through these they say that terrifying, murderous, and cruel dreams go forth. The other two face the harbour and the sea, one of which is of horn, and the other, by which we came in, of ivory” (A True History II, section 33). Inside the city was a temple dedicated to Night and a palace that housed the local ruler, Sleep. A complicated temple complex was also located at the central market square. There, separate temples to Truth and Falsehood could be found, as well as an oracular shrine where an interpreter of dreams was employed. An intriguing cast of dream entities inhabited the city. Lucian wrote, “The dreams themselves had no fixed nature or appearance: some being tall, good-looking, and well-shaped, others short and ugly; and some seemed made of gold, others humble and shabby. Among them too were some with wings, some monstrous, and others equipped as if for a pageant, dressed up as kings and gods, and so on” (A True History II, section 34). The mixture of sleep, dreams and nightmares extended to the local flora and fauna. Some of the noted native plants and animals included poppies, mandrakes and bats.

Leaving the Island of Dreams behind, the adventurers eventually managed to reach the island of Calypso and delivered to her Odysseus’ letter. In it, Odysseus told Calypso, “I am in the Island of the Blessed, bitterly regretting having given up my life with you and your offer of immortality. So if I get the opportunity, I shall run away and come to you” (A True History II, section 35). After having dinner with Calypso, the adventurers returned to sea and had the misfortune of quickly falling under attack by waves of increasingly bizarre pirates. Among these were the so-called Pumpkin-pirates. As told by Lucian, “Their boats are large pumpkins, sixty cubits long: they take a dried pumpkin, hollow it out and remove the pith, then sail in it, using reeds for masts and a pumpkin-leaf for a sail. They attacked and fought us with two crews, and wounded many of us by shooting pumpkin-seeds at us” (A True History II, section 37). Before long, a rival faction of pirates appeared—the Nut-sailors. As one might expect because of the previous description, the Nut-sailors crewed ships made from giant nut shells. The Pumpkin-pirates and the Nut-sailors happened to be fierce enemies, so they began fighting amongst themselves instead of their original prey. The Nut-sailors won, for their ships had the sturdier hulls. Meanwhile, a new gang of dolphin-riding pirates joined the fray. Describing this strange group, Lucian wrote, “we were assailed by about twenty men riding on enormous dolphins, and these were pirates too. The dolphins carried them safely, leaping up and neighing like horses. As they approached us they separated into two groups, shooting at us from both sides with dried cuttlefish and crabs’ eyes” (A True History II, section 39). Fortunately, like back in the monstrous whale, the adventurers were able to fight off the various pirates by using their superior Greco-Roman weaponry. Dried cuttlefish, it turned out, were no match against spears and arrows.

Following the encounter with the odd pirates, Lucian’s ship and crew began experiencing a slew of miracles. As told by the satirist, “Our stern-post goose figure suddenly flapped its wings and gave a cackle, our helmsman Scintharus, bald up to now, grew a shock of hair, and, most incredible of all, the ship’s mast put forth buds and branches and bore fruit at its top—figs and black grapes, not yet ripe” (A True History II, section 41). While the crew was recovering from the shock of these miraculous happenings, the ship found itself at the edge of a floating forest, with the trunks and root systems of the trees growing straight out of the water, with no soil to be seen. The canopy of the forest was solid and supported a great deal of weight, so the adventurers climbed up to the top, hauled up their ship with a makeshift cable system, and, spreading out the sails, managed to sail across the tree tops. On the other side of the floating forest, they found a parted sea. Lucian wrote, “the water stood there as if split in two! But as we stared around, we saw not very far away to the right a bridge constructed of water, which linked the surfaces of the two seas, flowing from one to the other” (A True History II, section 43). After fearfully crossing the water bridge and sailing on, the adventurers found new groups of seafaring peoples, including another group of dolphin-riders. This time, the dolphin-riders were friendly. These people, wrote Lucian, were “sitting on corks and harnessing a pair of dolphins, which they drove with reins, so as they moved along they pulled the corks with them. These did us no harm, nor did they try to avoid us, but drove along unconcerned and peacefully, wondering at the style of our boat and examining it from every side” (A True History II, section 45).

When the adventurers successfully parted ways with the curious dolphin-riders, the crew eventually found their way to an island inhabited by beautiful women. As told by Lucian, “They came up to us and welcomed us warmly, all of them young and pretty and dressed much like courtesans with long robes that swept the ground. The island was called Mischief Island…” (A True History II, section 46). Unfortunately for the adventurers, the local island women were not up to the good kind of mischief. Instead, the locals were quite deadly. Thankfully, the adventurers fortuitously noticed red flags about the women and even spotted skeletal remains that had been poorly hidden. As the revelations set in, the locals were interrogated. It soon became apparent that the women were hybrid beings possessing donkey legs and a knack for shapeshifting. In a comical dialogue, Lucian wrote, “I noticed that she didn’t have a woman’s legs but the hooves of an ass. So, drawing my sword I seized and bound her and demanded that she tell me everything. She replied, although reluctantly, that they were women of the sea, called Asslegs, and they made a meal of visiting strangers” (A True History II, section 46). With this timely interrogation and confession, the crew was warned and saved from the deadly machinations of the dastardly Asslegs. As the adventurers began to fight back, they were astounded by the donkey-women’s ability to transform into water.

Upon successfully escaping from the donkey-women-shapeshifters of Mischief Island, the adventurers became shipwrecked on a nearby landmass. At that point, Lucian promised, “What happened in that continent I’ll tell you in the following books” (A True History II, section 47). That statement, like the entire A True History series, was not real—for Lucian did not write any further additions to the story. Once again, it should be noted that nothing in Lucian’s A True History should be taken as an accurate depiction of ancient Greco-Roman folklore or myth. Instead, it is satire and an important, unique instance of an ancient author openly writing a fantasy story.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Vertumnus, painted by Giuseppe Arcimboldo (Archimboldo), via Creative Commons and the Skokloster Castle Museum).

Sources:

  • Lucian, Selected Dialogues, translated by C. D. N. Costa. Oxford: Oxford University Press (Oxford World Classics), 2005, 2006, 2009.

The Battle Between The Horatii And The Curiatii, Painted By An Unknown 15th-Century Artist

By
thehistorianshut
-

This rather damaged painting, by an unknown 15th-century artist, re-creates a story from the early folkloric history of the ancient kingdom of Rome and its interactions with the nearby community of Alba Longa. Historically, Alba Longa is thought to have been a significant settlement well before 1,000 BCE and remained a powerful city in Italy until the 7th century BCE, when it was presumably challenged by Rome and ultimately destroyed around 600 BCE. While we will never know specific details of the conflict between Rome and Alba Longa, writers such as Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE) preserved the conflict, albeit in a dramatic and embellished fashion, within their works on the folklore of early Rome.

In his History of Rome, Livy alleged that the war between Rome and Alba Longa began because of a cattle dispute—both cities were reportedly stealing the livestock of the other and neither side wanted to return the stolen property. War was eventually declared because of the issue, but before battle commenced, the leaders of the cities agreed to an odd solution—the war would be settled with a duel between chosen champions of each city. Oddly enough, both Rome and Alba Longa chose as their champions sets of triplet brothers—the Horatiii and the Curiatii. According to Livy, there was some debate about which group of brothers belonged to which city, but most accounts of the tale placed the Horatii in the Roman camp.

Both the Horatii and the Curiatii agreed to fight to the death on behalf of their homelands, and the showdown was facilitated by the construction of a special arena that was put together by the two armies. The duel, narrated dramatically by Livy, allegedly began to the sounds of trumpets and cheers—it was quite the raucous event as the fight ensued. To the horror of the Romans, their Horatii triplets began the fight terribly. The Roman brothers fell in quick succession until only one, Publius Horatius, was left alone to face all three Curiatii siblings. Nevertheless, by using expert footwork, patience, and well-placed blows, the lone Roman was able to evade his enemies until an opportune moment arrived, allowing him to counter-attack and slice through his three pursuers, dropping one after the other as they carelessly raced toward his readied blade. With the duel over, the Albans were said to have made momentary peace with Rome.

This ancient tale of the duel between the Horatii and the Curiatii is the story that is re-created in the artwork featured above. Publius Horatius can be seen delivering the final blow to the last Curiatii opponent. It should be said, however, that although the artwork focuses on the combat of the tale, there is much more to the story of the Horatii and the Curiatii than just the duel, itself. As added drama, legend claimed that the rival triplets were all about to be brothers-in-law before the duel occurred, for a sister of the Roman Horatii had been recently engaged to marry one of the Curiatii brothers. Despite the close relationship between their two clans, the rival sets of triplets agreed to fight, for the theme to Livy’s tale was that the city is more important than love and family. Emphasizing the tragic nature of the duel, the would-be groom from the Curiatii brothers was said to have shown up to the fight proudly wearing a cloak that had been lovingly made for him by his betrothed. The token, however, did not help him, as the Curiatii brothers, including the one that was engaged to be married, were all killed in the duel.

In a disturbing epilogue to the tale, the lone victor of the duel, Publius Horatius, was said to have gone on to murder his sister who had been formerly engaged to marry the slain Curiatii brother. Horatius was reportedly acquitted with almost no punishment after the murder. Adding insult to injury, it soon turned out that the Curiatii triplets, the two Horatii brothers and their tragically slain sister all ironically died for nothing, because, despite the duel, the Albans eventually resumed their hostilities against Rome. In response to the end of the truce, Rome once again went to war and this time destroyed the city of Alba Longa.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Ovid

By
thehistorianshut
-

Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE)

“Myself, I can’t stand fighting,
Peace is my thing: You know: make love not war.”

also translated as

“Whilst I, whom neither seas nor arms invite,
In love alone, the fruit of peace, delight;”

or

“I hate all warfare:
I delight in peace, and to find love in its midst.”

  • From The Amores (3.2.50) by Ovid, translated by Peter Green in The Erotic Poems (Penguin Classics, 1982). The second translation version is from HERE and the third is from HERE.

Pythagoras’ Curious Relationship With Beans

By
thehistorianshut
-

Pythagoras was a 6th-century BCE intellectual from Samos whose lectures were incredibly influential in matters of ancient Greek mathematics and religion, as well as in music theory and astronomy. A Pythagorean cult quickly formed around his teachings, and followers collected sayings, verses, and maxims from their leader that detailed a proper Pythagorean lifestyle. Much about the Pythagorean code of ethics was fairly standard and universal, such as advising people to strive to be good, to shun evil thoughts and actions, to honor family, to be forgiving, to be thoughtful before speech or action, so on and so forth. Like other religious codes, the Pythagorean cult also had its own food restrictions. Several existent texts attributed to Pythagoras or his disciples advocated various degrees of vegetarianism. Along with anti-meat sentiment, it was also known that Pythagoreans were instructed by their beliefs to have a complicated relationship with beans. One version of the ancient so-called Symbols of Pythagoras stated “Abstain From Voting With Beans” (translation by University of Massachusetts Boston) while another, more popular, iteration of the Symbols simply commanded, “Abstain from beans” (translation by Bridgman). The latter abstinence from beans command was something that many ancient commentators were aware of and, unfortunately, no clear reasoning was given as to the exact reasoning behind the prohibition.

In the answerless vacuum, many ancient scholars (such as Aristotle, whose work on this matter has sadly been lost) went on to theorize and speculate about why Pythagoras did not approve of beans. Ideas ranged from religious and symbolic reasons, to digestive and health-related reasons, and it was also proposed that Pythagoras was merely a picky eater. The scholar Diogenes Laertius (3rd century), summarizing the ideas of various authors that came before him, wrote that Pythagoras advised followers to “abstain from beans because they are flatulent and partake most of the breath of life; and besides, it is better for the stomach if they are not taken, and this again will make our dreams in sleep smooth and untroubled” (Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, 8.1.24). Later, in a passage insinuating that the problem with the beans potentially resided in mystic ritual purification issues, Diogenes Laertius wrote that Pythagoras called for, “abstaining from meat and flesh of animals that have died, mullets, gurnards, eggs and egg‑sprung animals, beans, and the other abstinences prescribed by those who perform mystic rites in the temples” (Lives of Eminent Philosophers, 8.1.33). Finally, in terms of potential symbolic reasons for the bean ban, Diogenes wrote, “According to Aristotle in his work On the Pythagoreans, Pythagoras counselled abstinence from beans either because they are like the genitals, or because they are like the gates of Hades . . . as being alone unjointed, or because they are injurious, or because they are like the form of the universe, or because they belong to oligarchy, since they are used in election by lot” (Lives of Eminent Philosophers, 8.1.34). All in all, despite the imaginative theorization, no one quite knew why the Pythagoreans kept away from beans.

While the ancient philosophers, scholars, historians and biographers debated their various bean theories, the satirist Lucian of Samosata (c. 120-180+) opted to take the Occam’s Razor approach and propose a simple solution to the bean dilemma. What if, perhaps, Pythagoras simply was a picky eater who did not like beans. With this in mind, Lucian imagined Pythagoras in a fantastical afterlife scenario, where the Pythagorean founder was struggling to fit in among a troupe of bean-eating heroes. Lucian wrote, “Well, they then boiled beans, as they usually do when they have won a battle, and had a feast and a long holiday to celebrate the victory. Pythagoras alone did not take part in it: he sat apart without eating, because he loathed beans” (Lucian, A True History II, chapter 24). Whatever the reasoning for the bean ban, be it personal taste, or health, or symbolism, beans unfortunately became intertwined with the legends about Pythagoras’ life. According to a popular (but historically-rejected) legend, Pythagoras’ feelings toward beans were so strong that he died after he refused to escape through a field of beans while being chased by hostile pursuers.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Cropped print of Pythagoras, provided by the Austrian National Library, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons, Europeana and the Austrian National Library).

Sources:

Muse of Music, by Henry Siddons Mowbray (c. 1858–1928)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, by the American artist Henry Siddons Mowbray (c. 1858–1928), claims to depict a Muse of Music from ancient Greek and Roman mythology. Muses were the daughters of the high-god, Zeus, and the goddess, Mnemosyne (Memory), and they served as goddesses of arts, sciences and creativity. The scholar, Diodorus Siculus (c. 1st century BCE), summarized ancient beliefs about the Muses, writing:

“The majority of the writers of myths and those who enjoy the greatest reputation say that they were daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne; but a few poets, among whose number is Alcman, state that they were daughters of Uranus and Gê. Writers similarly disagree also concerning the number of the Muses; for some say that they are three, and others that they are nine, but the number nine has prevailed since it rests upon the authority of the most distinguished men, such as Homer and Hesiod and others like them…To each of the Muses men assign her special aptitude for one of the branches of the liberal arts, such as poetry, song, pantomimic dancing, the round dance with music, the study of the stars, and the other liberal arts” (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History, 4.7).

Hesiod (c. 8th century BCE), who was mentioned by Diodorus Siculus, is thought to have been the first to name the Muses with their canonical names. He wrote, “the Muses sang, who dwell in Olympus, the nine daughters born of great Zeus, Clio and Euterpe and Thaleia and Melpomene, Terpsichore and Erato and Polyhymnia and Urania, and Calliope, who is chief among them all” (Hesiod, Theogony, approximately lines 76-79). Focusing back on Mowbray’s Muse of Music painting, it should be noted that several of the Muses were associated with music and none of them held a monopoly on the Muse of Music title. Euterpe was the Muse of flute playing. Polyhymnia, in fitting with her name, was a Muse of hymns. Terpsichore and Erato governed forms of lyric poetry that could accompany music. Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry, was also heavily linked to music. Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE), a Roman poet, imagined Calliope reciting her poetic tales to the sounds of a lyre. He wrote:

“Calliope. She, with her flowing hair in ivy wreath,
rose up and strummed a few plangent chords to test her lyre strings,
then firmly plucked them to launch at once on the following lay.”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, 5.335-340)

In short, there were many musical Muses. Yet, not all of the Muses were associated with the flute that is referenced in Henry Siddons Mowbray’s artwork. Calliope and Erato were mostly associated with the lyre. Contrastingly, Terpsichore and Euterpe both were indeed depicted with flutes in ancient art, but Terpsichore was also frequently shown wielding string instruments. Of the Muses, Euterpe was the one most specialized around playing flutes, especially double-flutes, which is the type of instrument featured in the artwork above. Therefore, Euterpe is the best guess as to which Muse is depicted in Mowbray’s Muse of Music painting.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Franz Kafka

By
thehistorianshut
-

Franz Kafka (c. 1883-1924)

“Is there a bureau of control? There are only bureaus of control.”

  • From The Castle (chapter 5) by Franz Kafka. The translation used here is by John R. Williams (Wordsworth Editions, 2009).

Ancient Heraea’s Chance Battle Against Bribery

By
thehistorianshut
-

According to the famous philosopher, Aristotle (c. 384-322 BCE), an ancient Greek city called Heraea had an elected government system that became so corrupt that the elections were always won by candidates who bought the most voters with bribes or other forms of solicitation. Fed up with this unscrupulous government, a faction in Heraea was able to change the constitution of the government in order to combat the bribery problem. The fix that the reformers came up with, however, was an odd solution that would bring about unpredictable results. On this, Aristotle wrote, “At Heraea they changed from holding elections to drawing lots, simply because they found that the successful candidates were those who solicited votes” (Aristotle, Politics, Bekker number 1303a). Therefore, to stop politicians from perpetually winning elections by buying and trading votes, the people of Heraea decided to just leave appointments up to chance and the luck of the draw. Unfortunately, Aristotle did not elaborate on what happened in the political scene of Heraea after the city made this constitutional gamble.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Terracotta skyphos (deep drinking cup) attributed to Polion ca. 420 BCE, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

Sources:

  • The Politics by Aristotle, translated by T. A. Sinclair and revised by T. J. Saunders. London: Penguin Classics, 1962, 1992.
1...262728...369Page 27 of 369

RECENT POSTS

POPULAR