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Olaf Tryggvason And Sigrid Storraade, By Lorenz Frølich (c. 1820 – 1908)

This drawing, by the Danish artist Lorenz Frølich (c. 1820 – 1908), was inspired by the legendary bad romance between King Olaf Tryggvason of Norway (r. 995-1000) and a Swedish noblewoman named Sigrid Storråda, known to the Norwegian and Icelandic storytellers as Sigrid the Haughty. Unfortunately, the veracity of the stories told about Sigrid are more difficult to assess and prove or disprove as compared to tales about her male counterparts, but nevertheless, the medieval writers had a lot to say about this curious character and her influence. As the legends go, she was the daughter of a great Swedish warlord named Skolgar-Tósti. Prior to Olaf’s courtship, she had reportedly been married to the important Swedish king, Eirík the Victorious (r. 970-995), and maintained control of great wealth and land during the reign of Eirík’s son, King Olaf Skötkonung (r. 995-1022). To King Olaf Tryggvason of Norway, the widowed (but evidently still young) Sigrid, with her ample money, land, and political clout in Sweden, was quite the enticing candidate for a political marriage.

King Olaf Tryggvason of Norway, so the stories go, formally began to court Sigrid Storråda for marriage. He was said to have sent her gifts and paid her visits, and they allegedly began to negotiate a betrothal agreement. Yet, the tale of their relationship did not end well. According to the folkloric tales about their interactions, King Olaf’s first mistake was sending Sigrid Storråda a gold ring that turned out to be a copper-filled counterfeit. On this incident, the Icelandic scholar, poet, historian, saga-writer and chieftain, Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), wrote, “They said that the ring was counterfeit. Then she had the ring broken in two, and there was seen to be copper inside it. Then the queen was furious and said that Oláf would defraud her in more things than that” (Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, Saga of Olaf Tryggvason, chapter 60). Despite this awkward incident, King Olaf was evidently able to do enough damage control to keep the betrothal agreement on track. Nevertheless, when the two next met in person, they allegedly began talking about the precarious topic of religion, and Olaf, a forceful Christian king, supposedly found something amiss with Sigrid Storråda’s faith.

Now roles reversed—instead of Sigrid being angry at Olaf, this time it was Olaf who became irate with Sigrid. Snorri Sturluson narrated the dramatic episode, writing, “Then King Oláf said that Sigrid should be baptized and accept the true faith. She replied in wise: ‘I do not mean to abandon the faith I have had, and my kinsmen before me. Nor shall I object to your belief in the god you prefer.’ The King Oláf became very angry and said hastily, ‘Why should I want to marry you dog of a heathen?’ and slapped her in the face with the glove he had in his hand. Whereupon he arose, and she too.” (Snorri Sturluson Heimskringla, Saga of Olaf Tryggvason, chapter 61). Lorenz Frølich’s artwork likely depicts this latter tense and angry exchange, as Olaf Tryggvason can be seen raising in his right hand the glove that he allegedly used to hit Sigrid. Understandably, after the harsh name-calling and the slap to the face, the courtship was unequivocally over.

Sigrid Storråda eventually had her revenge. As the tales go, she became a wife of mighty Sweyn Forkbeard of Denmark (r. 987-1014), and she allegedly was instrumental in pushing King Sweyn and King Olaf Skötkonung of Sweden to join together in a coalition against King Olaf Tryggvason of Norway. Olaf Tryggvason was killed by that coalition force at the Battle of Svold (or Svolder) in the year 1000.

 

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

John Jay

John Jay (c. 1745-1829)

“The pride of states, as well as of men, naturally disposes them to justify all their actions, and opposes their acknowledging, correcting, or repairing their errors and offences.”

  • From The Federalist No. 3, by John Jay in The Federalist Papers. Republished by the Henry Regnery Company (Chicago, Illinois, 1948).

The Many Sons-In-Law Of Helgi The Lean

Helgi the Lean was a man of Nordic and Irish descent who flourished in the 9th century, growing up in Ireland and the Hebrides. As told by the Icelandic sources, Helgi had close links to the prominent figure, Ketil Flatnose, a powerful chieftain of the Hebrides and other islands near Scotland. Helgi the Lean’s sister, Thurid, reportedly married Ketil Flatnose’s grandson, Thorstein the Red. In a similar match between the two families, Helgi the Lean personally married Ketil’s daughter, Thorunn Hyrna. Together, Helgi and Thorunn had at least eight children, including two sons, Hrolf and Ingjald, as well as six daughters—Ingunn, Helga, Thorhild, Thora, Hlif and Thorbjorg Island-Sun.

Helgi the Lean, Thorunn, and their large family eventually moved to Iceland, claiming great tracts of land around the Eyjafjörður area of northern Iceland. At the time of Helgi and Thorunn’s move, perhaps only Thorbjorg Island-Sun had not yet been born (Thorunn gave birth to her not long after they arrived in the Eyjafjörður region). Most of the other children were older, and at least one of Helgi and Thorunn’s daughters, Ingunn, was already married prior to the family’s move to Iceland. Ingunn’s husband followed the family to Iceland, and he was the first of Helgi the Lean’s large network of sons-in-law.

Ingunn’s husband was a man named Hamund Hel-Skin. As told in the Icelandic Book of Settlements, “Helgi the Lean granted land to Hamund, his son-in-law, between Merkigill and Skjalgdale River, and Hamund farmed South Espihill” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 230). Ingunn, unfortunately, died at a youthful age. She left behind a young son named Thorir.

Helga, next in our list of Helgi the Lean’s daughters, had the misfortune of marrying a man named Audun the Rotten. They had at least two children, named Einar and Vigdis. Helgi the Lean granted Audun and Helga “land between Hals and Billingadale. Audun lived at Saurby” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 232). Despite children, land, and family support, the marriage of Audun and Helga did not last. Maybe with a nickname like “the Rotten,” Audun could be speculated as a potentially poor husband. Whatever the reason, the marriage ended and Helga was once more a single woman. Her availability led to a curious incident—she married Hamund Hell-Skin, the widower husband of her later sister, Ingunn. Together, Hamund and Helga had a daughter who came to be known as Yngvild All-Men’s-Sister.

Helgi’s daughter, Thorhild, married a Norwegian settler of Iceland named Audolf. As told in the Book of Settlements, Audolf “went from Jæderen to Iceland and took possession of Oxnadale, from Thver River down to Bægis River, making his home at South Bægis River” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 226). Audolf and Thorhild had a daughter named Yngvild.

For his daughter, Thora, Helgi the Lean arranged a prestigious match with a man named Gunnar. This Gunnar was the son of the lawbringer, Ulfljot. As told in the Book of Settlements, Helgi the Lean granted the newlyweds “land between Skjalgdale River and Hals. Gunnar made his home at Djupadale” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 231). Gunnar and Thora had a large household of children, including three sons (Thorstein, Ketil and Stein-mod), as well as two daughters (Yngvild and Thorlaug).

Helgi the Lean arranged for his daughter, Hlif, to marry a man named Thorgeir Thordarson. Helgi, according to the Book of Settlements, granted them “land between Thver River and Vard Ravine” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 231). Thorgeir and Hlif built a home at a place called Fiski Brook and raised two children, named Thord and Helga.

Helgi the Lean’s youngest daughter, Thorbjorg Island-Sun, was married to an older man named Bodolf. Thorbjorg was Bodolf’s second wife, his previous marriage being to Thorolf the Wise’s daughter, Thorunn, with whom Bodolf had a son named Skeggi. According to the Book of Settlements, Bodolf laid claim to “the whole of Tjorness between Tungu River and Os” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 249). With Thorbjorg Island-Sun, Bodolf fathered a daughter named Thorgerd.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Image labeled “Ilustration til Fabricius Danmarks historie,” by H. C. Henneberg (c. 1826 – 1893), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Statens Museum for Kunst).

 

Sources:

  • The Book of Settlements (Sturlubók version) translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1972, 2006.
  • The Saga of the People of Laxardal and Bolli Bollason’s Tale, by an anonymous 13th-century Icelander and translated by Keneva Kunz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.
  • The Viking Age: A Reader, edited by Angus A. Somerville and R. Andrew McDonald. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2010.

Aeneas Rescues Anchises From Burning Troy, Attributed To Johann Heinrich Schönfeld (c. 1609 – 1683)

This artwork, attributed to Johann Heinrich Schönfeld (c. 1609 – 1683), depicts an ancient mythical family that links the myths and legends of Troy to the tales of ancient Rome. Featured in the artwork is the Trojan hero, Aeneas, seen fleeing from his burning homeland along with his son, Iulus, as well as his elderly father, Anchises. The family’s flight from their defeated city was prompted by Aeneas’ godly mother, Aphrodite, who encouraged Aeneas to gather up his family and flee as the Greeks began ransacking and burning the Trojan capital. The hero obeyed his mother and rushed to collect his elderly father, his frightened wife, and their young son while time remained to escape. Virgil (70-19 BCE), a poet from Rome, assumed the point of view of Aeneas and described the family’s journey out of the defeated city:

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

In Virgil’s account, Aeneas’ wife later became separated from the rest and ultimately did not survive the sack of the city. In other accounts, however, she successfully survived alongside her husband. Johann Heinrich Schönfeld evidently followed the tradition in which Aeneas’ wife had died, for she is not present in the painting with the rest of the family. Virgil, in his poem, may have killed the poor woman off to allow Aeneas to uninhibitedly partner with new women that the Trojan hero would soon meet on his odyssey toward Italy, where, according to legend, Aeneas would become an ancestor of Romulus and Remus, who were said to have founded Rome.

 

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Emperor Jing

Emperor Jing (r. 157-141 BCE)

“It is said that Heaven rewards the doer of good with blessings and the doer of evil with misfortune.”

  • From a speech/edict delivered by Emperor Jing, recorded in the Records of the Grand Historian (Shi Ji, 106) by Sima Qian. Translated by Burton Watson (Columbia University Press, 1993).

Anna Komnene’s Curious 11th And 12th Century Stereotypes About Other Peoples And Groups That Came In Contact With The Imperial City Of Constantinople

Anna Komnene (c. 1083-1153) was a princess from the dwindling realm of the Eastern Roman Empire (also known at this stage of history as the Byzantine Empire), centering around Greece and the imperial capital of Constantinople. Anna was the daughter of the successful usurper and competent emperor, Alexios Komnenos (r. 1081–1118), who led the struggling realm against Norman incursions from the west and nomadic attacks from the north, while also defending against Islamic forces encroaching from the south and east. Around the same time, he was also negotiating with rowdy armies of international crusaders marching through his lands. Anna Komnene watched all of these events transpire from the safety of Constantinople, protected by its famous walls. The princess did not squander her regal position and privilege, with all of the resources and educational access that it provided—instead, she became a well-educated woman, keeping herself up to date with history, current events, philosophy and theology, as well as pseudo-sciences such as astrology and divination. Her intellectual pursuits culminated in The Alexiad, a biography and history that Anna Komnene wrote about the reign of her father, Emperor Alexios. The Alexiad is an admirable historical text and a great amount of valuable information can be gleaned from its enjoyable pages. Yet, for the purpose of this article, we are going to take a look at instances when Anna Komnene unleashed her inner Roman princess, letting slip curious remarks about foreign peoples and groups that interacted with the empire of Constantinople. Many of these comments were written in the formula of “such is the way of [insert group of people],” followed by an often-amusing stereotype or generalization about whoever Anna was describing.

Perhaps Anna Komene’s comments about crusaders would be a decent place to start. To this, we can also add groups of people that the Roman princess loosely described as Latins and Kelts, referring to Normans, Italians, French and other peoples who were involved in the First Crusade. Incredible numbers of these armed pilgrims marched through Anna Komnene’s homeland, and the spectacle left a great impression on the princess. She wrote, “Full of enthusiasm and ardour they thronged every highway, and with these warriors came a host of civilians, outnumbering the sand of the seashore or the stars of heaven, carrying palms and bearing crosses on their shoulders. There were women and children, too, who had left their own countries. Like tributaries joining a river from all directions they streamed toward us in full force, mostly through Dacia” (Anna Komnene, The Alexiad, X.5). As the leadership figures from among the crusaders made contact with Emperor Alexios’ court, Anna Komnene was able to become acquainted with a large number of European noblemen, but she evidently had trouble pronouncing and remembering the names of many of these foreigners. She did make note of and record the names of the most famous leading lords commanding the crusader armies, but she gave up on trying to remember the names of lower officers. The exasperated princess wrote, “For all my desire to name their leaders, I prefer not to do so. The words fail me, partly through my inability to make the unpronounceable barbaric sounds and partly because I am put off by just how many of them there were. In any case, why should I try to list the names of so enormous a multitude, when even their contemporaries became indifferent at the sight of them?” (Anna Komnene, The Alexiad, X.10).

As was said earlier, Anna Komnene labeled many of the crusaders as Latins or Kelts. Although the princess often used these designations interchangeably, she seemed to use the word “Latins” more often, usually referring to the forces and allies of the Norman lords, Robert Guiscard and Bohemond, who launched attacks against Emperor Alexios’ realm from Italy. On these so-called Latins, Anna Komnene wrote, “As I have said before, the Latin race at all times is unusually greedy for wealth, but when it plans to invade a country, neither reason nor force can restrain it” (The Alexiad, X.6). Additionally, as there was a rivalry between the popes of Rome and Constantinople’s own ecclesiastical patriarch, it naturally followed that Anna Komnene was biased against the religious beliefs of the so-called Latins. The pro-Constantinople princess wrote, “The Latin customs with regard to priests differ from ours. We are bidden by canon law and the teaching of the Gospel, ‘Touch not, grumble not, attack not—for thou art consecrated.’ But the barbarian Latin will at the same time handle sacred objects, fasten a shield to his left arm and grasp a spear in his right…Thus this barbarian race is no less devoted to religion than to war” (Anna Komnene, The Alexiad, X.8). As for Anna Komnene’s label of Kelts, she did not lambast or stereotype this group as often as the Latins. Nevertheless, she did write one of her longest generalizing descriptions while discussing “Keltic” crusaders. She wrote:

“The truth is that the Keltic race, among other characteristics, combines an independent spirit and imprudence, not to mention an absolute refusal to cultivate a disciplined art of warfare; when fighting and warfare are imminent, inspired by passion they are irresistible, evident not only in the rank and file, but in their leaders too, charging into the midst of the enemy’s line with overwhelming abandon—provided that the opposition everywhere gives ground; but if their foes chance to lay ambushes with soldier-like skill and if they meet them in a systematic manner, all their boldness vanishes. Generally speaking, Kelts are indomitable in the opening cavalry charge, but afterwards, because of the weight of their armour and their own passionate nature and recklessness, it is actually very easy to defeat them” (Anna Komnene, The Alexiad, XI.6).

Readers may have noticed in some of Anna Komnene’s previous quotes that she had a habit of referring to foreigners as barbaric or barbarians. There are many more quotes from Anna’s text in which she whips out the barbarian label while talking about various peoples and groups that interacted with her father’s realm. By today’s standards, her dialogue concerning “barbarians” is inconsiderate and insensitive, yet these statements are also some of her more amusing comments. A few choice examples are as follows. For one, Anna Komnene wrote, “That is the way of all the barbarians: their mouths gape wide for gifts and money, but they have no intention whatever of doing the things for which the money is offered” (The Alexiad, XIV.2). She also claimed, “barbarians are arrogant by nature, with their heads almost in the clouds” (Anna Komnene, The Alexiad, XV.6). Speaking of violence, the Roman princess wrote, “Such is every barbarian—constantly lusting after massacre and war” (The Alexiad, IX.3). Lastly, in one final jab, Anna Komnene wrote: “The truth is, all barbarians are usually fickle and by nature are unable to keep their pledges” (The Alexiad, VII.6).

In addition to the crusaders, Latins, Kelts and barbarians, Anna Komnene also took time to critique mankind, in general. Speaking of medieval slavery and serfdom, Anna Komnene commented, “It is a fact that slaves are in any case by nature hostile to their masters, but if they cannot strike at them, they seize the chance to become intolerable to one another” (The Alexiad, II.4). She had more to say about the flip-flopping ways of the masses and the carousel of ambitious individuals vying for power. Concerning the changing whims of mankind, Anna Komnene wrote, “weak-minded folk are quite unstable, moving with the current, first one way, then another, like Euripos” (The Alexiad, II.3). Expanding on this belief, the Roman princess later wrote, “Such is the way of men—today they cheer, escort, treat with honour, but once they see the fortunes of life reversed, they act in the opposite manner, without a blush” (Anna Komnene, The Alexiad, IX.9). On the potential leaders (in this case a so-called Kelt) trying to sway the impressionable masses, Anna wrote, “That is typical of the Kelts: they are inconsistent, changing to opposite extremes in the twinkling of an eye. You can see one and the same man boasting that he will shake the world and the very next minute cringing prostrate in the dust—and this is even more likely to happen when they meet stronger characters” (The Alexiad, XIII.10). Curiously, that quote addressing a supposed Kelt was actually about the Norman nobleman, Bohemond, and his chaotic back-and-forth relationship with Emperor Alexios.

It should be pointed out that all of the quotes listed above have been cherrypicked for entertainment value; they do not represent Anna Komnene’s views, as a whole, but only represent one small aspect of the Roman princess’ tone and character, devoid of fifteen chapters-worth of context from her complete text. The awkward quotes about fickle and greedy barbarians are outnumbered and outweighed by Anna Komnene’s many passages containing sage advice and wisdom that is still applicable to this day. That aside, at least by this writer’s judgment, there is still some entertainment to be found in reading a Roman princess’ critiques of supposed barbarians.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (The Pedestal of the Obelisk of Tuthmosis III in Constantinople, by Melchior Lorck (c. 1526 – 1583), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Statens Museum for Kunst).

 

Sources:

  • The Alexiad by Anna Komnene, translated by E. R. A. Sewter. New York: Penguin Classics, 2009.

Latona And Peasants, By An Unknown 16th Century Artist

This artwork, created between 1585 and 1590 by an unknown artist influenced by Annibale Carracci (1560–1609), was inspired by a mythological tale concerning the divine family of Latona (known as Leto to the Greeks). She was the mother of the twin deities, Apollo and Diana (aka Artemis), who are depicted as newborns in the painting. The father of the children was the mighty arch-god, Jupiter (or Zeus), but as he was already married to the wrathful queen goddess Juno (or Hera), Leto decided to go into hiding with her newborns to keep them away from Jupiter’s jealous wife. This brings us to Latona’s encounter with the Lycian peasants. As the story goes, wearied Latona reached a certain small marshy lake in Lycia not long after she gave birth to her twins. She was understandably tired and irritable at this point, and she desperately wanted to drink a handful or two of water from the pond. Nevertheless, local farmers—the so-called Lycian peasants—did not react kindly to the appearance of the mysterious woman with her twin babies. When Latona began trying to drink some of the water, the locals started to heckle her and some went so far as to stomp and splash in the water, making it too muddy to drink. Prior to this rude display from the locals, Latona had evidently been concealing her divine nature (she and her children were in hiding, after all), but the behavior of the Lycian peasants ultimately caused the goddess to lash out with her godly powers. As narrated by the Roman poet, Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE):

“[The Lycian peasants] even disturbed the water itself
with their hands and feet, and spitefully stirred the soft and swirling
mud right up from the bottom by jumping wildly about.
Latona’s anger made her forget her thirst for the moment.
She refused to humble herself any longer before these louts
or to plead any more for kindness in such an ungoddesslike manner.
She raised her hands to the heavens and cried, ‘May you live in your filthy
pool for ever!’ Her prayer was answered.

[E]ven today they continue to wag
their tongues in loud and unseemly arguments; shameless as ever,
although they are under the water, they’ll try to indulge in abuse.
Their voices too have gone hoarse; their throats are inflated and swollen;
their noisy quarrels have stretched their jaws to a hideous width.
Their shoulders rise to their heads as their necks appear to have vanished;
their backs are green, while their huge protruding bellies are white.
They leap about in the muddy pool transmuted to frogs.’”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, book 6, approximately lines 363-381)

It is this ancient tale of Latona being confronted by the Lycian peasants that the artwork re-creates. Latona and her children can be seen by a tree at the water’s edge, where several rude men block the goddess’ access to the pond. The artwork must depict the myth at the beginning of the story, as the peasants have not yet been transformed into frogs by the annoyed deity. Ironically for the Lycian peasants, although being turned into frogs is not a pleasant fate, they might also be counted as lucky that they got off with such a light punishment after slighting Latona. Especially after Apollo and Diana grew up, Latona and her children proved to be an incredibly wrathful and brutal trio.

 

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Aeschylus

Aeschylus (c. 525-456 BCE)

“[R]adiant dreams are passing in the night,
the memories throb with sorrow, joy with pain…
it is pain to dream and see desires
slip through the arms,
a vision lost for ever
winging down the moving drifts of sleep.”

  • From Aeschylus’ Agamemnon (approximately lines 420-425), translated by Robert Fagles. New York: Penguin Classics, 1979.

Pliny The Younger’s Speak-For-Itself Speech Advice

A man named Vettenius Severus was elected as a consul of Rome around the time that Emperor Trajan (r. 98-117) completed his campaign against Dacia in the year 106. As Vettenius Severus was expected to give a victory speech after becoming consul-elect, he decided to reach out to the prominent lawyer and statesman, Pliny the Younger (c. 61/62-113), who had previously served as consul back in the year 100. Vettenius Severus, in particular, wanted advice on how emperor-centered his election victory speech should be, specifically on the question of how much, or little, praise to Emperor Trajan would be proper in such a speech.

Pliny the Younger, for his part, seemed to advise against hollow flattery. In his return letter to Vettenius Severus, Pliny wrote that Trajan was not the kind of man who expected or would appreciate flattery in a consul’s election speech. Quite the opposite, gratuitous adulation seemed to be out of fashion due to the recent memory of imperial tyrants—such as Caligula, Nero and Domitian—who had been overly-flattered in their lifetime, only to have their reputations demolished after their deaths. Less was more, according to Pliny, and although Emperor Trajan was an impressive and virtuous figure on his own, his character could be left to speak for itself, without flattery. On this speech advice, Pliny wrote:

“You ask me to consider what tribute you should pay the Emperor in your speech as consul-elect. His virtues provide abundant material, so that it is easy enough to think of subjects but not so easy to choose between them. However, I will write and send you my opinion…I am wondering whether I ought to advise you to do as I did when I was consul-elect. I made a point of avoiding anything which looked like flattery, even if not intended as such, acting not on any principle of independence but on my knowledge of our Emperor. I realized the highest praise I could offer him was to show that I said nothing because it was expected of me. I also had in my mind the many tributes paid to the worst of his predecessors, and I felt that nothing could distinguish our noble Emperor from them so well as a different type of speech” (Pliny the Younger, Letters, 6.27).

Such were the words of wisdom that Pliny the Younger sent to his colleague. After giving that advice, Pliny did concede that years had passed since he, personally, had given his own consul-elect speech to the emperor, and times and the emperor’s mentality had changed since then. Therefore, in conclusion, Pliny advised it would not harm Vettenius Severus to praise the virtue and recent military achievements of Emperor Trajan in the upcoming speech, as long as the comments were not gratuitous in their flattery.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (The Catilinarian conspirators before the Senate, illustrated by Ferdinand Max Bredt (c. 1860-1921), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the NYPL).

 

Sources:

  • The Letters of Pliny the Younger, translated by Betty Radice. New York: Penguin Classics, 1963, 1969.

Study Of Composition From Roman History, By Milan Thomka Mitrovský (c. 1875–1943)

This artwork, vaguely labeled “Round Study of Composition from Roman History” and created by Milan Thomka Mitrovský (c. 1875–1943), seems to have been inspired by the ancient tale of Picus, a man of myth or legend who was said to have ruled a kingdom in Italy. Picus allegedly was one of the most handsome men of his age, and he had countless lustful admirers from both the mortal and immortal communities. Yet, of these willing women, Picus devoted himself only to one—a nymph named Cánens—and to her Picus remained steadfastly faithful.

Unfortunately for Picus, the magically-masterful goddess, Circe, was one of the many unsuccessful suitors that sought his attention. Since Picus was the handsomest man in the land, the sight of him naturally filled Circe with desire and she decided to have a go at seducing him. Calling on all of her magical knowledge and power, Circe conjured an illusory animal to lure King Picus away from any guards and attendants. She similarly summoned darkness and mist to blind Picus’ kingdom while she tried to charm the king. Nevertheless, all of Circe’s magic and planning was for naught; when the goddess revealed herself to Picus and tried to seduce him, the faithful king rejected her advances. Circe, of course, was irate after her desires were thwarted, and in her wrath, she decided to use her characteristic transformation magic to punish King Picus. The Roman poet, Ovid (c. 43 BCE-17 CE), described what happened next:

“[Circe shouted] ‘You’ll learn what a woman in love who is injured
can do; and Circe is surely an injured woman in love!’
The sorceress then turned twice to the west and twice to the east;
she struck the young king with her wand three times, and she spoke three spells.
Picus took to his heels but soon was surprised to discover
himself running faster than usual. Wings had sprung from his body!
A new type of bird had suddenly joined the forests of Latium”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, 14.384-390)

Milan Thomka Mitrovský’s artwork likely depicts Circe after she was rejected by King Picus. In the scene, the goddess can be seen holding up a wand, which she would use in her efforts to transform Picus into a bird. Once the spell had run its course, the king would be completely metamorphosized into a woodpecker. Most shocking to the avian monarch was the new addition of a beak on his face. So the story goes, it was his hatred of (or confusion over) this new body feature that caused the kingly woodpecker to begin pecking on tree trunks.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

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