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The Triumph of Alexander the Great in Babylon, By An Anonymous Follower of Charles Le Brun (c. 1619-1690)

This painting, by an anonymous follower of Charles Le Brun (c. 1619-1690), was inspired by accounts of Alexander the Great’s entrance into Babylon. The Macedonian conqueror visited the famous city twice. The first occasion was in 331 BCE, while Alexander was campaigning against Darius III of Persia (who would be murdered by his own followers the next year). Alexander and his warriors were warmly welcomed into the city of Babylon, as the Babylonians disliked Persian rule and were happy to have Alexander overthrow the Achaemenid Empire to which Darius III belonged. Ancient biographers of Alexander, such as Diodorus Siculus (1st century BCE) and Arrian (c. 90-173 CE), recorded similar stories about Alexander’s entrance into Babylon—that Alexander’s army was met with cheers, celebration, and general wining and dining with the best food and drink that the city had to offer. Diodorus Siculus described the scene, writing that Alexander “arrived with his whole army at Babylon. Here the people received him gladly, and furnishing them billets feasted the Macedonians lavishly. Alexander refreshed his army from its previous labours and remained more than thirty days in the city because food was plentiful and the population friendly” (Library of History, 17.64). Years later, Alexander the Great would come back to Babylon during his return trip from campaigning in the borderlands of India. It was during this second visit to Babylon, in 323 BCE, that Alexander the Great mysteriously became ill and died.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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The Humble Life And Fragrant Death Of The Constantinople Nobleman, Gregory

A man named Gregory was the son of a brother of Emperor Heraclius of Constantinople (r. 610-641). Gregory’s father, Theodore, had played a prominent role in Emperor Heraclius’ reign, leading troops into battle, carrying out important diplomatic missions, and otherwise acting as a trusted agent of the emperor. Theodore’s son, Gregory, contrastingly, decided to stay out of the limelight. Gregory evidently did, however, follow his father’s example in regard to loyalty and support for the ruling line of the family, making no personal bids for power or influence, and he also pointedly kept out of the way and off the toes of Emperor Heraclius’ successors, Emperors Constantine III (r. 641), Heraklonas (r. 641) and Constans II (r. 641-668). Rather than throw himself into the peril of medieval politics and family power struggles, Gregory instead kept to himself in cities away from the imperial court of Constantinople. He eventually found himself living at Heliopolis, where he ultimately died around 652 or 653. At the time of his death, Gregory had successfully maintained his impeccable reputation, and the respect that he had cultivated during his life was reciprocated in the way Gregory’s remains were treated, and how the funeral procession was carried out by the officials of Constantinople and Emperor Constans II. As was recounted by the chronicler, Theophanes (c. 750s-818), “In this year [Annus Mundi 6144 or 652-653 CE] Herakleios’ nephew Gregory died at Heliopolis. His body was embalmed in myrrh and brought to Constantinople” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6144). Such was the reward of Gregory’s loyal and untroublesome way of living—he lived a full life, was preserved with expensive myrrh, and his body received a hero’s welcome in Constantinople.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Fragment of a Floor Mosaic with a Personification of Ktisis, c. 500–550, with modern restoration, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

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

The Meeting Of Antony And Cleopatra, By Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (c. 1696–1770)

This painting, by the Italian artist Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (c. 1696–1770), strives to re-create (albeit with historically inaccurate wardrobes) an early encounter between one of the ancient world’s most famous power couples. Standing in a yellow dress with the large white collar is Queen Cleopatra of Egypt (r. 51 BCE-30 BCE). In front of her, seen kissing the queen’s hand, is the prominent Roman general and triumvir, Mark Antony (c. 83-30 BCE). Inspiration for this scene was likely drawn from elaborate ancient descriptions recorded about Cleopatra and Antony’s romance, such as this passage from the biographer, Plutarch (c. 50-120), who described an encounter between Antony and Cleopatra at the Cydnus (Berdan) River. He wrote:

“She came sailing up the river Cydnus, in a barge with gilded stern and outspread sails of purple, while oars of silver beat time to the music of flutes and fifes and harps. She herself lay all along under a canopy of cloth of gold, dressed as Venus in a painting, and beautiful young boys, like painted Cupids, stood on each side to fan her. Her maids were dressed like sea nymphs and graces, some steering at the rudder, some working at the ropes. The perfumes diffused themselves from the vessel to the shore, which was covered with multitudes, part following the galley up the river on either bank, part running out of the city to see the sight. The market-place was quite emptied, and Antony at last was left alone sitting upon the tribunal” (Plutarch, The Parallel Lives, Life of Antony, chapter 26).

Giovanni Battista Tiepolo’s painting, in contrast to Plutarch’s description, is much more landlocked in its scope. Pieces of a ship, however, can be seen in the background, with the stern and the mast of the vessel peeking out from behind the buildings and people at the forefront of the painting. After this encounter (or at least after the encounter that Plutarch described), the relationship between Antony and Cleopatra advanced in the natural way—they planned a dinner date. Impressively, at that later meetup, the banquet that Cleopatra prepared was said to have been even more extravagant than the luxurious barge on which she had sailed down the Cydnus.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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The Thousand and One Nights

The Thousand and One Nights
(a large collection of anonymously-authored stories of Indian, Persian and Arabian origin, compiled and edited between the 9th and 15th centuries)

“Whoever helps those who deserve no help,
Will be like one who rescues a hyena.”

  • This quote comes from The Thousand And One Nights (specifically the story of The Fisherman and the ‘Ifrit). The translation used here is by Malcolm C. Lyons (Penguin Classics, 2010, 2019).

The Roman Senatorial War Against Gymnastic Games

Ancient Romans loved the Greek culture and had a habit of assimilating Greek philosophy, arts and mythology into the Roman culture and way of life. Yet, not all Greek customs were received with equal enthusiasm in Rome. In particular, the Romans had a difficult time accepting Greek gymnastics. On the one hand, the Romans recognized that gymnastics had athletic and military value, especially if they augmented Greek gymnastic techniques for their own intended Roman purpose. Yet, many philosophers and statesmen of Rome also thought that gymnastics, in its original Greek form, focused too much on artistry and body aesthetics to an excessive extent that it was detrimental to potential Roman warriors.  The Greek-Roman scholar, Plutarch, wrote of the Roman attitude toward gymnastics, writing, “[T]he Romans used to be very suspicious of rubbing down with oil, and even to‑day they believe that nothing has been so much to blame for the enslavement and effeminacy of the Greeks as their gymnasia and wrestling-schools, which engender much listless idleness and waste of time in their cities, as well as paederasty and the ruin of the bodies of the young men with regulated sleeping, walking, rhythmical movements, and strict diet; by these practices they have unconsciously lapsed from the practice of arms…” (Plutarch, Moralia, Roman Questions, section 40). Despite this attitude being held by a large group of Roman statesmen, the practice of gymnastics nevertheless spread in the Roman Empire and some cities sponsored Gymnastic Games.

One of the most prominent Roman Gymnastic Games was held in the region of Gallia Narbonensis, hosted by the Rhône riverside city of Vienna (modern Vienne). Vienna’s Gymnastic Games were so prevalent that the senators and emperors of Rome took notice and began contemplating shutting the games down. The clamor to end the games reached a height during the socially-focused reigns of Emperors Nerva (r. 96-98) and Trajan (r. 98-117). Local anti-gymnastics officials and politicians kicked off the movement to close down the city’s games, and the emperors in Rome decided to support the campaign. One man who was involved (at least as a consultant) in closing the gymnastics games was the avid letter-writing lawyer and official, Pliny the Younger (c. 61/62-113). Concerning this business, he wrote, “I have just answered a summons to act as assessor to our noble Emperor during an inquiry he is holding on the gymnastic games at Vienna. These used to be celebrated under the terms of some person’s will until Trebonius Rufinus (a distinguished citizen and friend of mine) became a local magistrate and took steps to have them suppressed and abolished” (Pliny the Younger, Letters, 4.22). Although Trebonius Rufinus faced some pushback from the locals of Vienna, he eventually had his way, especially when other senators and the Roman emperor decided to support his campaign. On the end of the gymnastic events at Vienna, Pliny the Younger wrote, “It was decided to abolish the games at Vienna, for they had long been a corrupting influence in the town” (Pliny the Younger, Letters, 4.22). Ironically, similar Gymnastic Games were also held in the city of Rome. Although these games, too, were seen as a corrupting influence, the senators found the gymnastics events in Rome to be more difficult to ban than those in the Gallic city of Vienna.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Cropped section of a terracotta stamnos (storage jar) depicting athletes, c. 525–500 BCE, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

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Muse and Poet, by Alfred Edward Chalon (c. 1780-1860)

This ink and wash artwork, by the English artist Alfred Edward Chalon (c. 1780-1860), depicts an ancient scene of a young poet lounging with one of the Muses of ancient Greek mythology. Chalon did not specify if the youth was anyone in particular, but the scene is similar to the backstory of the famous ancient Greek poet, Hesiod (c. 8th century BCE). He claimed to have met the Muses on Mount Helicon in Boeotia, Greece, where the generous goddesses gave him wisdom about the gods and infused him with a great talent for poetry. Speaking of himself, Hesiod poetically wrote:

“And once they taught Hesiod fine singing, as he tended his lambs below holy Helicon…and they gave me a branch of springing bay to pluck for a staff, a handsome one, and they breathed into me wondrous voice, so that I should celebrate things of the future and things that were aforetime. And they told me to sing of the family of blessed ones who are for ever, and first and last always to sing of themselves” (Theogony, approximately line 29).

Alfred Edward Chalon’s artwork displays a similar scene of a muse and an aspiring poet spending time together in a peaceful environment of nature. Unlike Hesiod, the poet in the illustration does not have on or around him any gifts from his patron muse, such as Hesiod’s staff. Otherwise, perhaps the poet and muse are still getting to know each other before any gifts are exchanged, or, contrastingly, maybe the two have known each for a long time and the poet chose to leave his muse-given gifts at home for this particular trip to the wilderness. Whatever the case, all the poet really needs is words and a muse.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

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Euripides

Euripides (c. 485-406 BCE)

“They say that to keep one’s principles unswervingly in life
leads to a fall more often than it brings joy
and fights a greater war with our health.
And so I praise excess
less than moderation.
And wise men will agree with me.”

  • From Euripides’ Hippolytus (approximately between lines 260-270), translated by James Morwood in Medea and Other Plays (Oxford University Press, 1997, 1998, 2008).

The Legend Of Chi You—The Ancient Chinese Founding Father Of Rebellion

As was told in ancient Chinese mythology, legend and folklore, the worldwide violent human proclivity for rebellion and war all began with a curious primordial figure named Chi You. His life occurred, so the stories tell, in the pre-history age of the ancient Chinese god-monarchs, such as the Five Heavenly Emperors (known as the Green, Red, White, Black, and Yellow Emperors). He was often associated with the court or followers of the Red Emperor, but some versions of the tale even claimed that Chi You might have been the revered Yellow Emperor’s half-brother. Despite the possible familial connection, Chi You became a great enemy of the godly Yellow Emperor.

Prior to Chi You’s ascendance, as was hinted above, the world allegedly knew little of revolt or warfare, and was at relative peace. As a result of such tranquil coexistence, there had also supposedly been little in the way of weapon development, for there had been no need for such weapons of bloodshed. Chi You’s ascendance, however, would change things. As the story goes, he began inventing weapons and used the new tools of destruction for his unique and new concept in that primordial time—the idea of war and rebellion.

After equipping his followers with weapons and teaching them in the ways of rebellion and war, Chi You began attacking the territories of rival factions that neighbored his own. Chi You’s introduction of the concept of rebellion was mentioned by the Shang Shu (variously translated as The Book of Documents or The Most Venerable Book), an intriguing text that originated in the days before Confucius (c. 551-479 BCE). The Shang Shu stated: “The ancient stories tell us that the first person to launch a rebellion was Chi You, chief of the Miao people, and that this had a deep impact on all the ordinary people” (Shang Shu, chapter 55).

Due to Chi You’s wars and the resulting waves of opportunistic crime and violence that emerged in the war-torn regions, the Yellow Emperor and his forces had to stoop to Chi You’s level and launch a war of their own. As told by the Shang Shu, “The Imperial Ruler was moved to pity by the suffering of the innocent masses who were being killed. In response, he brought down his wrath upon the Miao tribe [and Chi You]. Initially he curbed them, but ended by wiping out the entire tribe so that they would have no succeeding generations. They were exterminated for ever” (Shang Shu, chapter 55). With such a law and order conclusion to the tale, it is no surprise that the story of rebellious Chi You was also associated with the beginning of the so-called Five Punishments of ancient China—including branding, nose-slitting, amputation (of body parts such as ears and feet), castration, and, of course, execution (sometimes extending to three generations of the criminal’s family). Despite the Yellow Emperor’s crushing of Chi You’s rebellion, and the imposition of the Five Punishments, the concept of war and rebellion, nevertheless, could not be stamped out. Chi You, too, even after being killed, continued to hold influence. As a founding father of war and rebellion, he came to be known as something of a war deity.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Dish with three heroes from Water Margin, painted by an artist from the Qing dynasty (1644–1911), specifically the Kangxi mark period (1662–1722), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

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Plague In Rome, Painted By Jules Elie Delaunay (c. 1828-1891)

This painting, by the French artist Jules Elie Delaunay (c. 1828-1891), was inspired by a particular tale from the Golden Legend, a large collection of stories about Christian martyrs and saints that was compiled by Jacobus de Voragine (c. 13th century). As the title of the artwork explains, the scene depicts a plague in Rome. Although Jules Elie Delaunay did not explicitly state exactly which plague from the text he was re-creating, context clues and educated guessing can narrow down the options. The likeliest bet is that the scene was inspired by the account of St. Sebastian, found in volume 2, chapter 32, of the Golden Legend. St. Sebastian’s life was said to have been set in the time of Emperor Diocletian (r. 284-305) and Emperor Maximian (r. 286-305), under whose reigns St. Sebastian was reportedly executed during the persecutions against Christians. The martyred saint came to be known as a protector against pestilence, and, digressing on this aspect of Sebastian’s reputation, the Golden Legend fast-forwarded centuries into the future, when St. Sebastian’s relics were said to have played a role in ending a plague that occurred around 680 or 681, during the reign of King Cunincpert of the Lombards (r. 671-688). On this later medieval plague, the Lombard historian Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799) wrote:

“[T]here followed a very severe pestilence for three months, that is, in July, August and September, and so great was the multitude of those dying that even parents and children and brothers with their sisters were placed on biers two by two and conducted to their tombs at the city of Rome. And in like manner too this pestilence also depopulated Ticinum [aka Pavia]…Then it was said by a certain man by revelation that the pestilence itself would not cease before an altar of St. Sebastian the martyr was placed in the church of the blessed Peter which is called ‘Ad Vincula.’ And it was done, and after the remains of St. Sebastian the martyr had been carried from the city of Rome, presently the altar was set up in the aforesaid church and the pestilence itself ceased” (Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards, 6.5).

This event described by Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799) was later included in the Golden Legend of Jacobus de Voragine (c. 13th century), who elaborated the story with added suggestions that angels and demons supposedly were involved in overseeing the plague. In Jacobus de Voragine’s book, the name of the Lombard capital city of Ticinum was changed to its later designation of Pavia, and King Cunincpert’s name also somehow bizarrely changed to King Gumbert. Despite these name changes and the scary imagery of angels and demons, the basic outline of the story largely remained the same in the later account. The Golden Legend (translated here with unfortunate ye olde English) claimed:

“[I]n the time of King Gumbert all Italy was smitten with so great a pestilence that unnethe they that were alive might bury the dead, and this pestilence was most at Rome and Pavia. Then the good angel was seen visibly of many, and an evil angel following bearing a staff whom he bade smite and slay, and as many strokes as he smote an house, so many dead persons were borne out of it. Then at last it was shewed to one by God’s grace that this pestilence should not cease till that they had made an altar to St. Sebastian at Pavia…” (Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend, 2.32).

It is this scene that seems to have inspired Jules Elie Delaunay’s painting. Following the Golden Legend’s description, the artwork shows an angel, together with what may be a demon, knocking on a door in Rome, tapping out the number of people who would die in the household. In another similarity to the Golden Legend, Jules Elie Delaunay seemed to be more interested in representing the ancient time that St. Sebastian lived in, instead of depicting Rome in the medieval 7th-century setting in which the plague actually occurred. Therefore, instead of medieval dress, many of the figures on the canvas are clothed in ancient Roman togas.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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Immanuel Kant

Immanuel Kant (c. 1724-1804)

“Nothing can possibly be conceived in the world, or even out of it, which can be called good without qualification, except a Good Will.

  • From the Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals (First Section) by Immanuel Kant (c. 1724-1804). The translation is by Thomas Kingsmill Abbott (d. 1913), republished by The Great Books Foundation (1949).