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Samson and Delilah, by Jan Havicksz Steen (c. 1626-1679)

This painting, by the Dutch artist Jan Havicksz Steen (c. 1626-1679), was inspired by the Biblical story of Samson and Delilah. The first of the pair, Samson, was a legendary Israelite warrior featured in the biblical Book of Judges. As the story goes, Samson was a scourge to the Philistines, a mysterious seafaring people that invaded and settled a section of the Palestine coast around the 12th century BC, becoming a serious threat to ancient Israel. While the Philistines had formidable weaponry and an admirable military organization, the Israelites had legendary heroes. Wielding superhuman strength, Samson proved to be almost an indomitable foe for the Philistines. Yet, as the biblical story and the painting above divulge, there was an exploitable weakness to Samson’s strength—hair. If Samson’s long locks were cut, then so would his strength also be shorn away. As the story goes, the Israelite warrior unwisely told this secret to a woman named Delilah, who then conveyed the secret to the Philistines and plotted with them to capture Samson. The Book of Judges described the story of what happened next:

“After putting him to sleep on her lap, she called for someone to shave off the seven braids of his hair, and so began to subdue him. And his strength left him. Then she called, ‘Samson, the Philistines are upon you!’ He awoke from his sleep and thought, ‘I’ll go out as before and shake myself free.’ But he did not know that the Lord had left him. Then the Philistines seized him, gouged out his eyes and took him down to Gaza” (Judges 16:19-21, NIV version).

Jan Havicksz Steen’s painting re-creates (albeit with curious wardrobe choices) this scene of Delilah betraying Samson to the Philistines. As mentioned in the quote, he did not get away from the ambush. Yet, Samson would have the last laugh. As his hair began to grow back, so did his strength. With a few prayers to supplement his recovering power, he was said to have summoned enough strength to demolish the Philistine temple where he was being kept, killing himself and many of his captors.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Søren Kierkegaard

Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855)

“Anyone who in demanding a person’s love believes that this love is demonstrated by his becoming indifferent to what he otherwise cherished is not merely an egotist but is also stupid, and anyone demanding that kind of love simultaneously signs his own death sentence insofar as his life is centered in this desired love.”

  • From Soren Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling (Problema 2), translated by Howard V. and Edna H. Hong (Princeton University Press, 1983).

Aristotle On the Need For A Strong Middle Class

Philosophical arguments of Aristotle (c. 384-322 BCE) often worked by pointing out two extremes and advocating for a balanced middle ground between the two. For example, in terms of virtue, Aristotle praised the virtuous quality of sincerity, and contrastingly criticized people who were too humble (as humility may undermine a person’s sincere worth) as well as arrogant boastfulness (as arrogance does not lead to sincere self-analysis). Aristotle took a similar stance on society and politics. He noted that in governance there will always be tension between the extremely wealthy and the extremely poor and that there needed to be a strong presence of people in the middle to form a calming bridge between the two antagonistic sides. In a sense, he advocated for the need of a strong middle class, albeit his notion of a “Middle Class” is different than the modern day concept. After all, Aristotle lived in the 4th century BCE, a time with very different societal, economic and class structures than modern times. Despite these cultural differences, Aristotle’s viewpoint on a middle class is worth reading. Speaking on the poor, wealthy and the middle class, as well as the best government representation ratios of these classes, Aristotle wrote:

“Where the number of the poor is sufficiently large to exceed the given ratio, there democracy will depend on the type of people which has the numerical superiority in each case…Where, on the other hand, the rich and notable people have a greater qualitative superiority than quantitative inferiority, there an oligarchy naturally arises, and once again its type will depend on the degree of superiority in those who form the oligarchical body. But at all times a legislator ought to endeavour to include the middle people in the constitution…Whenever the middle people outweigh a combination of the two extremes, or even one only, then there is a good chance of permanence for the constitution. There is no danger of rich and poor making common cause against them; for neither will want to be slaves to the other, and if they are looking for a constitution more acceptable to both, they will not find any better than this. Their mistrust of each other would make it impossible for them to accept alternation in office. But in all places the mediator is best trusted by the parties, and the one in the middle is a mediator” (Aristotle, The Politics, Bekker number 1296b).

In short, Aristotle wrote that constitutions and government structures needed to balance the wealth and influence of the well-off in a stable way with the numerical superiority of the poorer portions of society. If wealthy individuals were able to monopolize too much power and influence, an oligarchy could arise. Yet, contrastingly, extreme power in the hands of the poorest people could also lead to dangerous outcomes. In Aristotle’s opinion, tyrannical oligarchies and rabble-rousing revolutionaries were not a recipe for a stable state. Therefore, he favored a strong middle class of moderates. These middlemen of society would be able to be allies and mediators of both the rich and the poor, keeping the two juxtaposed extremes from scratching at each other’s throats. If the middle class could be empowered and fulfill this stabilizing role, then Aristotle believed that such a society’s constitution, and the government formed from it, would have a chance at long-term survivability.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Antique Greek costumes by Friedrich Hottenroth (c. 19th century), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Smithsonian).

Sources:

  • The Politics by Aristotle, translated by T. A. Sinclair and revised by T. J. Saunders. London: Penguin Classics, 1962, 1992.

Sigurd Syr, Åsta, Olav og Rane, by Christian Krohg (c. 1852–1925)

This rather abstractly painted artwork, by the Norwegian artist Christian Krohg (c. 1852–1925), was inspired by the storied life of the historical figure, Olaf Haraldsson (c. 995-1030), known as Saint Olaf and King Olaf II of Norway (r. 1015-1028). In particular, it depicts the main parental and mentoring figures in the early life of the king. A brief summary of Olaf’s family would be helpful for understanding the intricate relationships of the people in the scene.

Olaf Haraldsson was the son of Harald of Grenland and Ásta in Norway. They were a noble family with links to the Fairhair or Finehair Dynasty, named after King Harald Finehair of Norway (r. 860-940). Olaf’s father, Harald of Grenland, was life-long friends with a man named Rane (or Hrani) the Widely-Traveled. This Hrani aligned himself closely with Olaf’s family and their political interests. The family’s status quo, however, was thrown into chaos when Harald was murdered around 995, the death occurring shortly before Olaf’s birth. Hrani the Widely-Travelled was said to have helped Ásta and young Olaf escape their enemies, and he remained allied to the family when Ásta remarried. Her new husband was Sigurd Syr (sometimes spelled Sigurth Syr), ruler of Hringaríki. These figures—Olaf Haraldsson, his mother Ásta, his stepfather Sigurd Syr, and the loyal family friend Hrani the Widely-Travelled—are the characters featured in the artwork above. Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), an Icelandic politician, scholar, and prolific author, described the close relationship of these people in his Heimskringla (History of the Kings of Norway). He wrote, “Oláf, the son of Harald of Grenland, was brought up in the establishment of Sigurth Syr, his stepfather, and his mother Ásta. Hrani the Widely-Travelled lived with Ásta and was Oláf Haraldsson’s foster father” (Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 1).

At Ásta’s encouragement, Olaf Haraldsson and Hrani the Widely-Travelled grew to have a close bond. Going above and beyond in his role as the young noble’s foster father, Hrani served as a mentor and guardian during Olaf’s early adventures. There was no shortage of adventuring opportunities at that time, for a massive wave of Viking activity was targeting England in the first decades of the 11th century. Teenage Olaf joined in on the trend, reportedly reaching the shores of England around 1009. During that transformational journey, Olaf was accompanied by his right-hand man, Hrani, and a fleet of ships crewed by a veteran band of loyal warriors. For the next years, Olaf operated as a Viking and a mercenary leader in the regions of England, Spain and Normandy, gaining great wealth and also acquiring a valuable knowledge of war and politics. Around 1015, Olaf—now a well-traveled, wealthy, and militarily-experienced Viking warlord—finally returned to his homeland to seize the Norwegian throne, which had been left vacant since the death of King Olaf Tryggvason (r. 995-1000). On this return to his home and the announcement of his ambitions, Snorri Sturluson wrote:

“Now on a certain day, when King Oláf had not been there so very long, he asked King Sigurth [Syr] his stepfather, his mother Ásta, and his foster father Hrani to have a private conference with him. Then he spoke as follows…Now I shall disclose to you what has been in my mind for a long time, which is that I mean to regain my paternal inheritance; nor shall I go to see either the king of Denmark or the king of Sweden to ask them any favor, although they have for some time called their own what was the heritage after Harald Finehair. Rather, to tell you the truth, do I intend to seek my patrimony at the point of the sword…” (Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 35).

It should be noted, Christian Krohg was not explicitly clear about any specific time or setting for his painted meeting between Olaf, Ásta, Sigurd, and Hrani. Nevertheless, based on the ages of the figures and the seemingly intense and serious nature of the discussion, it is likely that the artwork depicts Olaf’s revelation to his family that he intended to become the king of Norway. As the opening sentence of the article gave away, the nobleman’s campaign for the throne was successful and he became King Olaf II of Norway (r. 1015-1028).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

  • Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.
  • The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012.
  • The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester translated by Thomas Forester. London: Petter and Galpin, originally published 1854.
  • https://www.nasjonalmuseet.no/en/collection/object/NG.K_H.1957.0067

Aeschylus

Aeschylus (c. 525-456 BCE)

“What good are the oracles to men? Words, more words,
and the hurt comes on us, endless words
and a seer’s techniques have brought us
terror and the truth.”

  • From Aeschylus’ Agamemnon (approximately around line 1135), translated by Robert Fagles. New York: Penguin Classics, 1979.

The Story Of Emperor Constantine IV’s Mutilation Of His Brothers

Constantine IV was a son and successor of Emperor Constans II of Constantinople (r. 641-668/669). Constans II, like many emperors of Roman and European tradition of the time, dreamed of creating a power-sharing agreement between his sons. Constantine IV was the senior sibling, crowned as an heir in 654. Constantine’s brothers, Herakleios II and Tiberius, were also crowned as heirs, receiving their designations before Emperor Constans II set off on his ambitious, but ultimately unsuccessful, campaign to reconquer Italy in 662 or 663. Hopeful power sharing agreement aside, most responsibilities were placed on Constantine IV, including administrative control of Constantinople, while the emperor was focusing on the Italian campaign. Unfortunately for Constans II, he would never return from Italy, as the emperor was assassinated while he stayed in Syracuse around 668 or 669.

Upon the death of Constans II, the emperor’s children ascended to the throne. As had been the case when Constans II was still alive, Constantine—now Emperor Constantine IV (r. 668/669-685)—maintained firm control of the most important elements of the empire’s government, to the detriment of his brothers’ influence. Consequently, he was able to immediately mobilize the empire’s military and promptly set out to crush the rebellious forces responsible for the assassination of Constans II in Sicily. The rebels were reportedly defeated and executed within the year, allowing Emperor Constantine IV to quickly return to the capital and consolidate his authority over the government. A medieval chronicle known as the Chronographia, written by the scholar Theophanes (c. 750s-818), reported that Emperor Constantine IV rushed to ruthlessly purge factions that attempted to elevate his brothers to higher influence in government. In an entry for the year Annus Mundi 6161 (September 669-August 670), Theophanes wrote:

“The troops of the Anatolic theme came to Chrysopolis, saying, ‘We believe in a Trinity: let us crown the three.’ Constantine grew alarmed, for he alone had been crowned: his brothers had no rank at all. He sent out the patrician Theodore of Koloneia, who harangued the men and put them to flight in this way: he took their leaders into the city so they could take counsel with the senate and do what they decided. But the Emperor immediately hanged some of them at Sykai; seeing this, the Anatolic troops were dishonored, and went back to their own land in dismay. The emperor slit his brothers’ noses” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for the year Annus Mundi 6161).

There are a few historical inaccuracies in the quoted passage that should be addressed—the brothers, Herakleios II and Tiberius, had indeed been crowned as heirs during the reign of Constans II, and their mutilation has been dated to have actually occurred in 681 or 682, instead of the earlier date of 669/670 given in the entry for Annus Mundi 6161. Whatever the case, the quote showcases Emperor Constantine IV’s efforts to consolidate all real power under his own control and to keep his brothers sidelined. The political games ended in 681/682, when Emperor Constantine IV deposed, disowned and mutilated his brothers, cutting their respective branches of the family off from the line of succession. Theophanes, the aforementioned chronicler, wrote of that event, stating, “In this year Constantine removed his brothers Herakleios and Tiberius from imperial power, and ruled alone with his son Justinian [II]” (Chronographia, entry for the year Annus Mundi 6173). Unfortunately, the case of Constantine IV mutilating his brothers was not a unique story; power sharing arrangements, even among siblings, rarely resulted in peaceful successions among the kingdoms and empires of ancient and medieval history.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Middle Ages — costumes and weapons of the Byzantines from the year 700 to 1000, by Friedrich Hottenroth (c. 1840-1917), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Smithsonian).

Sources:

  • Theophanes, The Chronicle of Theophanes, translated by Harry Turtledove. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982.
  • History of the Lombards by Paul the Deacon, translated by William Dudley Foulke (c. 1904). University of Pennsylvania Press, 1907, 1974, 2003.
  • The Oxford Dictionary of Late Antiquity, edited by Oliver Nicholson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018.

Apollon et Daphné, by George Desvallières (c. 1861-1950)

This colorful and abstract painting was created by George Desvallières (c. 1861-1950), and its image was released to the public by the Musée de Reims and the Desvallières family under a Creative Commons 2.0 license. The artwork re-creates a famous myth of the ancient god, Apollo, and his pursuit of a nymph named Daphne. As the story goes, Daphne had the misfortune of being near the gods, Apollo and Cupid, while the two archer-deities insulted each other in an argument over which of them had a better claim to their favorite weapon, the bow. Apollo won the verbal debate, but Cupid was eager to seek revenge. Flexing his sensual powers, Cupid roped in the innocent bystander, Daphne, to unknowingly participate in a palpable display of the power that desire has even over the gods. According to the tale, Cupid forced Apollo to fall in love with Daphne, who, in turn, was conversely inspired by the love-god to reject all erotic urges. And so, a chase began in which lustful Apollo relentlessly tried to overtake the unreciprocating and terrified Daphne.

Unfortunately, the fatigued nymph could not outrun her fleet-footed pursuer forever, and as the artwork portrays, Apollo was eventually able to overrun his prey. In the end, the only way for Daphne to escape the clutches of Apollo was for the nymph to plead for help from her river-god father, Penéüs, and muster all of her own power as a nymph in order to bring about a supernatural solution to her predicament. As the story goes, Daphne ultimately thwarted Apollo’s desires by transforming herself into a laurel tree. Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE), a Roman poet, described the transformation, writing:

“She hardly ended her prayer when a heavy numbness
came over her body; her soft white bosom was ringed in a layer
of bark, her hair was turned into foliage, her arms into branches.
The feet that had run so nimbly were sunk into sluggish roots;
her head was confined in a treetop; and all that remained was her beauty.
Tree though she was, Apollo still loved her.”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, book 1, approximately lines 548-553)

It is the end of the chase and Daphne’s transformation into a laurel tree that George Desvallières re-creates. Daphne can be seen mid-metamorphosis, with her feet and legs being encased in wood as nearby Apollo watches with his arms in the air. Although Apollo could not fulfill his Cupid-inspired passions, his devotion to Daphne was said to have continued. The complicated relationship between the god and Daphne evolved into Apollo having a newfound platonic affection for laurels.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Dante Alighieri

Dante Alighieri (c. 1265-1321)

“He listens to good purpose who takes note.”

  • Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy (Inferno, Canto XV), 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 Militant Rise And Rebellious Fall Of Baanes

A man named Baanes came to prominence as a military officer serving in the armed forces of Constantinople in the early 7th century. Baanes lived in a dangerous time of intrigue and war. In domestic politics at the time, conspiracy and rebellion was rife. Emperor Maurice of Constantinople was overthrown by a military rebellion in 602 and replaced by Emperor Phocas (also spelled Phokas). Phocas’ ascendance, however, sparked a devastating war with between Constantinople and Maurice’s powerful friend, Khosrow II of Persia, who immediately declared war on the usurper in Constantinople. Emperor Phocas ultimately could not maintain control of either his realm’s internal politics or the war with Persia. As Persian armies rampaged in Constantinople’s imperial territories, Emperor Phocas was eventually overthrown and replaced by Emperor Heraclius (r. 610-641), who continued the war between Constantinople and Persia. It was in the armies of Emperor Heraclius that the man named Baanes would eventually make a name for himself.

Emperor Heraclius spent the first decade of his rule mainly focused on solidifying his control in Constantinople and also dealing with more immediate threats from Avar incursions near the capital city. Yet, around 622, the emperor decisively shifted to an offensive stance in his war against Persia. Heraclius marched his forces toward Armenia and then began pushing down deeper and deeper into the heartland of the Persian Empire with each successive year. Emperor Heraclius and his troops, including Baanes, outmaneuvered and defeated several Persian armies, putting Khosrow II and his generals on an increasingly defensive footing. During these campaigns, Baanes particularly caught the eye of Emperor Heraclius during battles and skirmishes that occurred around the Zab Rivers. The chronicler, Theophanes (c. 750s-818), noted one ambush around December, 626, in which Baanes played a major role. Theophanes wrote, “The Emperor sent out his general Baanes with a few chosen soldiers, who encountered a Persian battalion. They slew its count and brought back his head and a solid-gold sword” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6118). Baanes’ leadership during that ambush impressed Emperor Heraclius, and he would keep Baanes in mind for future military leadership appointments. In the meantime, however, Emperor Heraclius continued to chase Khosrow II into the heartland of the Persian empire, reaching the vicinity of the Persian capital, Ctesiphon, by 628. Persia’s poor response to Heraclius’ advance caused anger and intrigue to mount against Khosrow II, eventually resulting in a revolt from Khosrow’s eldest son, known variously as Shērōē (or Siroes), Qobad, or Kavadh II. After the successful coup by the treacherous son in 628, Khosrow II was executed and peace was finally made between Constantinople and Persia.

Emperor Heraclius unfortunately did not have long to celebrate peace. Although the war with Persia was over, another great war was just beginning. It just so happened that Islam came into being in Arabia while the age-old rivals of the Roman Empire and Persia were squandering each other’s resources and manpower in their latest long war (lasting from 602-628). Therefore, after Persian troops had marched to the vicinity of Constantinople, and after Heraclius subsequently reversed the tide of war and marched his forces to the outskirts of Ctesiphon, it was now time for Arab armies to pour out of Arabia and wreak havoc on the exhausted realms of Constantinople and Persia. During the reign of the first caliph, Abū Bakr (r. 632-634), Arab armies began expanding into the regions of Jordan, Palestine, Syria and Iraq, and these expansionist wars increased dramatically during the reign of the second caliph, Umar I (r. 634-644).

Aging Emperor Heraclius had grown sickly in the time between the end of the Persian war and the start of the Arab onslaught. Unlike his previous war with the Persians, the emperor now chose not to personally lead his troops into battle against the new threat. Instead, the increasingly ill emperor left the defense of the empire in the hands of his governors and generals. Notably, he placed trust in his brother Theodore to lead armies, and it was now that Baanes was given a leading role to command armies. By 634, Theodore was tasked by Emperor Heraclius with fending off Arab attacks threatening the Syrian cities of Damascus and Emesa (now Homs) and Baanes was dispatched to reinforce and coordinate with Theodore. This was all a part of a larger plan by Emperor Heraclius to delay the Arab advance while he tried to muster together a large defensive force, which he planned to station near Antioch. For a while, Theodore and Baanes worked together well and put up a semi-successful resistance against the Arab attacks on the Syrian border, but by 636 their coordination and decision-making began to slacken. That year, a large Arab force outmaneuvered Baanes and Theodore, threatening Damascus while the two generals were separated and unprepared. Baanes was the first to become aware of the situation and he quickly sent messengers to Theodore, asking him to bring his army (and presumably the troops being amassed at Antioch) toward Damascus. Theodore agreed to the request and speedily steered his forces to join Baanes in defending the Damascus region. Yet, in their rush to defend the city, the generals overestimated their own armies, underestimated their foes, and also neglected the close coordination needed to push back the Arab forces from Damascus. As a consequence, the upcoming battles would go poorly for the generals of Constantinople.

Details of what exactly happened next are convoluted. In one interpretation of an account written by the chronicler, Theophanes, one could imply that Theodore and Baanes united their armies and faced the Arabs in battle near Damascus. In another interpretation of the same passage, it could also be implied that Baanes was already imperiled in or around Damascus and that Theodore was cut off by the Arab forces before being able to actually unite with Baanes. Whatever the case, a battle erupted between Constantinople’s forces (with an emphasis on Theodore’s army) and the Arabs near Damascus around August 20, 636. On this, Theophanes wrote:

“In this year a countless host of Saracens left Arabia behind and campaigned in the vicinity of Damascus. When Baanes learned this he sent a message to the imperial sakellarios Theodore so he and his army could come help Baanes because of the Arabs’ numbers. The sakellarios came to Baanes; they departed from Emesa and met the Arabs. On the first day of the engagement (it was the third day of the week, and the twenty-third of Lōos) the sakellarios’ troops were defeated” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6126).

Again, from this wordy passage, it is difficult to discern if Theodore and Baanes were together during the battle, or if Theodore’s army was intercepted and defeated by itself while it was on its way to reinforce Baanes. Either way, the battle left Theodore’s army weakened and it also left Baanes’ troops incredibly demoralized. After the failed attack on the Arab forces, coordination between Baanes’ and Theodore’s armies completely broke down. Baanes and his army were said to have become so disillusioned after the defeat that they were overtaken by rebellious sentiment against Emperor Heraclius’ regime. The atmosphere of revolt aside, Baanes and his mutinous troops evidently remained on the front line, determined to fight the invaders. Nevertheless, this division and dissension in the military of Constantinople made the Arab campaign in the Damascus region all the easier, and they quickly pressed their advantage. After around six days of skirmishing, Arabs forces were able to lure the poorly led troops that Emperor Heraclius had amassed in Syria into a large battle that turned out catastrophically for Constantinople. Theophanes continued his convoluted commentary on the armies of Baanes and Theodore, as well as the fate of most of Constantinople’s troops in Syria, stating:

“Baanes’ men rebelled and chose him Emperor, renouncing Herakleios. Then the sakellarios’ [Theodore’s] troops withdrew; the Saracens found an opportunity to join battle. Since the south wind was blowing against the Romans, they were unable to face their foes because of the dust, and were defeated. They leaped into the Yarmuk River where it is narrow, and were destroyed there: both generals had 40,000 men. Upon their decisive victory, the Saracens went to Damascus; they took it and the land of Phoenicia” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6126).

Such was the way Baanes was remembered in Constantinople. Whether or not he and his troops really mutinied, they (as well as the army of Theodore) were caught up in the nearly week-long Battle of Yarmouk or Yarmuk (August 636), masterminded by the brilliant Arab general, Khalid ibn al-Walid, in which tens-of-thousands of Constantinople’s warriors were killed. Bannes and Theodore were said to have both died during the course of the long battle.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Two miniatures from two Greek bibles, housed in the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and Europeana).

Sources:

Theophanes, The Chronicle of Theophanes, translated by Harry Turtledove. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982.

Cato The Younger’s Death, by Johann Carl Loth (c. 1632–1698)

This painting, by the German artist Johann Carl Loth (c. 1632–1698), depicts the final chapter in the life of the Roman senator, Marcus Porcius Cato (c. 95-46 BCE), better known as Cato the Younger. He was a brilliant Roman statesman who spent his life fighting against corruption and defending the status quo of the Roman Republic against prospective dictators, such as Julius Caesar and Pompey. Along with the famous silver-tongued Cicero, Cato was one of the key politicians in the Roman Senate that sided against Julius Caesar during the long Roman Civil Wars. The Republic and its defenders, however, lost the war. This is the setting for the painting above, featuring Cato ominously wielding his knife.

In 46 BCE, Cato must have known that the Roman Republic, as he knew it, was coming to an end. Pompey the Great had already been defeated by Caesar and was assassinated in Egypt. The other extremely skilled general, Labienus, had just lost a major battle in North Africa against Caesar at Thapsus. Cato, from his position in Utica (located in modern day Tunisia), could only gloomily observe as the Roman Republic fell, once again, into the hands of a dictator.

While most of Caesar’s armed opponents fled to Spain after the Battle of Thapsus, Cato remained where he was in Utica. There, the hopeless politician decided to end his life, no matter what it took to get the job done. The usually charismatic and gregarious Cato became bizarrely introverted and calm. He checked that the finances of Utica were all tidy, and then he withdrew from governing the city. Cato’s friends and family, suspicious of the statesman’s sudden change of character, followed him home and kept a constant watch on the man. They even searched Cato’s home, locking away all the dangerous instruments they could find. Nevertheless, as the artwork gives away, Cato somehow found a knife.

What happened next, as told by the accounts of Plutarch (c. 50-120), Cassius Dio (c. 163-235) and Julius Caesar, himself, was grisly and disturbing. On a certain day, after having just finished an evening meal with his comrades, Cato retired to his room to read. That night, it is said he read Cicero’s entire Phaedo, a collection of arguments for the immortality of the soul. After reading his final book, Cato produced the knife that he had managed to hide from his friends and vigorously stabbed himself in the gut. This scene, or rather the moment immediately before it, is what Johann Carl Loth re-created in his artwork. Unfortunately, the tale does not end there.

Losing strength and consciousness, Cato fell to the floor with enough force to alert his nearby friends. The already-wary friends and family rushed into the room, staunched the bleeding and quickly brought in a doctor to stitch up the knife wound. Miraculously, the doctor stabilized the statesman. Cato eventually regained consciousness, however, and he was still determined to die. With his own two hands, he reportedly ripped open the doctor’s stitches and brought about his death by yanking out his own innards, one handful at a time.

Counselors, professional help, and other suicide prevention resources can be found at the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

  • War Commentaries by Gaius Julius Caesar and Aulus Hirtius, translated by W. A. McDevitte and W. S. Bohn, 2014.
  • Roman Lives by Plutarch, translated by Robin Waterfield. Oxford: Oxford University Press (Oxford World Classics), 1999, 2008.
  • https://open.smk.dk/en/artwork/image/KMSsp154