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

By
thehistorianshut
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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

 

Sources:

Immanuel Kant

By
thehistorianshut
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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).

The Tale Of Roman Nobleman Who Was Doomed By A Careless Herald

By
thehistorianshut
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Flavius Sabinus was a member of the Flavian clan and was related to the Roman emperors, Vespasian (r. 69-79), Titus (r. 79-81) and Domitian (r. 81-96). By the time of Domitian—who was Flavius Sabinus’ cousin—Sabinus had made it to the forefront of Roman politics and was holding increasingly important offices in the administration of the Flavian Dynasty. His crowning achievement was a victory in an election for the prestigious position of consul in Rome. Yet, this triumphant electoral win would also ironically prove to be Flavius Sabinus’ undoing—or, more precisely, it was the sloppy announcement of the victory that sealed the politician’s doom.

As the story goes, Flavius Sabinus’ life was plunged into dire jeopardy when an election official misspoke in his public announcement about the election results. Rather than confirm the nomination of Flavius Sabinus as the consul-elect, the bumbling speaker instead accidentally proclaimed that Sabinus was now the emperor-elect. Such a proclamation did not sit well with Emperor Domitian, who was paranoid about traitors and conspiracies. Unfortunately for Flavius Sabinus, the seed of doubt took root in the emperor’s mind after the election herald incident, and Domitian ultimately decided to execute his cousin. On Flavius Sabinus’ fate, the Roman scholar Suetonius (c. 70-130+) wrote, “Domitian put many senators to death, including some former consuls…and Domitian’s own cousin Flavius Sabinus by being mistakenly announced by the election-day herald as emperor-elect instead of consul-elect” (Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars, Domitian, section 10). The execution occurred in the year 84.

Domitian’s fears about conspiracies were not unfounded, it turned out, as the emperor would later be assassinated. Yet, ironically, the execution of Flavius Sabinus was a tipping point for many individuals in Domitian’s inner circle, because Sabinus had been the emperor’s kinsman and his death likely caused people to think that if Domitian was willing to kill his cousin, then nobody else was safe from execution. Such implications contributed to the decision of important figures like members of the Praetorian Guard and Domitian’s own wife to eventually join the plots against the unpopular emperor, who was killed in the year 96.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Scene from Roman History, with Draped Figure Presenting Book to Ruler, by After Eustache Le Sueur (c. 1617-1655), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Art Institute of Chicago).

 

Sources:

  • The Twelve Caesars by Suetonius, translated by Robert Graves and edited by James B. Rives. New York: Penguin Classics, 2007.

Alcestis and Admetus, by Gerard Hoet I (c. 1648 – 1733)

By
thehistorianshut
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This painting, by Gerard Hoet I (c. 1648 – 1733), was inspired by stories about the ancient Greek myth of Alcestis (daughter of King Pelias of Iolcos) and her husband Admetos (or Admetus)—the ruler of the Thessalian city of Pherae. Admetos was a divinely well-connected man, and he was particularly good friends with the god Apollo. Yet, having the close attention of the divine beings was not always a good thing, as the fickle gods could punish just as easily as they could bless. And that is exactly what happened in Admetos’ situation.

One fateful day, as the myth goes, Admetos was visited by his godly friend Apollo, but this time, Apollo was also accompanied by his divine sister, Artemis. Admetos and Apollo, as usual, got along splendidly. But Artemis, who decided to snoop around Pherae’s temples and shrines, soon fell into a foul mood, for she discovered that her due sacrifices and offerings in Pherae were not up to her standards. Being a typical ancient divinity, Artemis succumbed to the vice shared by most gods—wrath. In her fury over the deficient offerings, Artemis began to plot a deadly punishment against the king of the city. She was not subtle about her intentions, and Admetos became aware of his impending doom. Therefore, he went to his powerful and influential friend, Apollo, and begged for assistance. After listening to the situation, Apollo agreed to do what he could to help, but the god also explained that Artemis’ curse could only be delayed or transferred.

Following Apollo’s guidance, Admetos was able to postpone Artemis’ vengeance, and in the meantime, the Fates were bargained with in order to give Admetos more options. As the story goes, the Fates were persuaded to allow for a willing volunteer to take Admetos’ place the next time the king faced death. Yet, the trick would be finding a person who was willing to make such a selfless sacrifice. As the reader might have guessed from the title of the painting, only Admetos’ wife, Alcestis, was prepared to give up her life so that her husband could keep living. Yet, Apollo, a prophetic god, might have known that Alcestis’ fate was not as hopeless as it seemed. This myth and its conclusion was described by a scholar known as Pseudo-Apollodorus (c. 1st-2nd century):

“Apollo advised him to propitiate the goddess, and demanded of the Fates that when Admetos was about to die, he should be released from death if somebody would freely choose to die in his place. When the day came for him to die, neither his father nor his mother was willing to die for him, so Alcestis died in his place. But Kore [or Persephone] sent her back to earth again, or, according to some accounts, Heracles fought with Hades for her [and returned her to Admetos]” (Apollodorus, Library, I.9.15).

Such, then, is the backstory for Gerard Hoet’s painting. It shows the busy bedroom of Alcestis and Admetos, with the sickly king seen lying on his deathbed. The painted scene likely captures the moment of Admetos asking for his wife to volunteer to go to the underworld in his stead. As the quote above conveyed, Alcestis agreed to the proposal. Thankfully for her, the gods or Heracles eventually arranged for Alcestis’ release from the underworld, allowing her to return to the land of the living.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

The Short, Disastrous Rebellion Of Patrician Gregory

By
thehistorianshut
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By the 640s, Constantinople’s imperial holdings in North Africa came to be overseen by a certain patrician named Gregory. The region he commanded had always been an important piece of the empire—in fact, the formidable emperor Heraclius (r. 610-641) had launched his bid for the throne from a base of power in North Africa. All this aside, Patrician Gregory, despite residing in North Africa with its importance to Constantinople and the ruling dynasty, likely soon felt vulnerable in his position. This was because the empire was starting to face increasing danger while Constantinople was simultaneously becoming less and less able to adequately defend its empire, especially the farthest reaches of its territory, such as North Africa.

Patrician Gregory’s era of the 7th century was a chaotic time for Constantinople, to say the least. The Lombards were chipping away at Constantinople’s control in Italy, and that conflict predated and overlapped with the great war that erupted between Constantinople and Persia in 602. Emperor Heraclius inherited that war with Persia in 610 and succeeded in finally winning the conflict in 628. Although the war with Persia was over, another great war was unfortunately just beginning. While the age-old rivals of the Roman Empire and Persia had been squandering each other’s resources and manpower between 602 and 628, Islam had come into being in Arabia and it was now time for aggressive Arab armies to 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). Emperor Heraclius was operating defensively by this point, trying to mitigate the damage of invasion, while also striving to fortify and garrison Anatolia. The able emperor, however, sickened and died in 641, and his immediate successors proved to be a destabilizing and ineffective bunch. Heraclius was succeeded by his sons, Constantine III and Heraclonas. Constantine III quickly died (likely of tuberculosis) before the year 641 was over, leaving his brother as the sole ruler. Yet, Emperor Heraclonas and his mother, Empress Martina, were soon accused (most likely wrongfully) of poisoning the late Emperor Constantine III, and these rumors caused Emperor Heraclonas to be ejected from power by his political rivals and enemies. This, too, occurred in that busy year of 641. Following the arrest, mutilation, and imprisonment of Heraclonas, the ousted emperor’s nephew, Constans (son of Constantine III), took power in Constantinople as Emperor Constans II (r. 641-668). With such a peculiar rise to power, in addition to the ongoing threat and reality of invasions at that time, it is not surprising that Constans II’s reign was plagued by many mutinies, revolts and rebellions—including one led by Patrician Gregory in North Africa.

Gregory, whether out of disillusionment, opportunism or anger, rebelled against the authority of Constantinople around 646 or 647 and decided to go it alone. Constans II’s reaction to the rebellion was slow and minimal, allowing Patrician Gregory to maintain his autonomy for the time being. Yet, Gregory’s momentary independence also left him as a vulnerable target for the observant Arab forces, and it was these outsiders who would ultimately prove to be Patrician Gregory’s undoing. On the downfall of the rebel, a chronicler from Constantinople named Theophanes (c. 750s-818), wrote, “In this year [Annus Mundi 6139 / 647-648 CE] the Saracens attacked Africa; they engaged and routed the rebel Gregory, slew his men, and drove him from Africa. After levying tribute on the Africans, they withdrew” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6139). Such was the fate of Gregory’s rebellion. As was stated in Theophanes’ quote, Patrician Gregory evidently survived the destruction of his rebellion, but whatever he chose to do next after his escape was not recorded by the chroniclers of Constantinople.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Byzantine mosaic wall with scenes from the lives of Matthew and Bartholomew).

 

Sources:

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

17th-Century Tapestry Depicting Charles Le Brun’s Painting Of The Family of Darius At The Feet Of Alexander

By
thehistorianshut
-

This 17th-century tapestry, woven by an unknown artist, re-creates a painting produced by Charles Le Brun (c. 1619-1690) that depicted the historical event of Alexander the Great (r. 336-323 BCE) meeting with the captured family of the Persian ruler, Darius III. To set the scene, the Battle of Issus in 333 BCE had just occurred, in which Alexander soundly defeated Darius III and his assembled forces. As the Persian ruler was chased off the battlefield, he had to leave behind his camp, as well as anything and anyone that had been in it at the time of the battle. Unfortunately for the defeated Persian king, he had left many of his loved ones in that camp, including his mother, wife and children, and they were subsequently captured by Alexander the Great. Arrian (c. 90-173+), a Roman biographer of Alexander, wrote, “Darius’ headquarters were stormed and captured; his mother was taken, together with his wife (who was also his sister) and his infant son; in addition to these, two of his daughters fell into Alexander’s hands with a few noble Persian ladies who were in attendance upon them” (Anabasis Alexandri, Book 2, chapter 12). When Alexander the Great became aware that he had captured Darius’ family, the first thing that he did was to send one of his companions to reassure the captives that Darius was still alive. On another day, he visited the captured Persian royals in person and made sure that they were kept safe. This meeting between Alexander the Great and the captive Persian royals is what inspired Charles Le Brun’s painting, which, in turn, was the model for the tapestry featured above. Darius’ family remained with Alexander the Great until around 331 BCE, when he left them behind in the city of Susa.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Yu the Great (from the Shang Shu)

By
thehistorianshut
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Yu the Great
(traditionally dated to the 21st century BCE or earlier)

“If a ruler knows how to rule properly and if this is echoed in the conduct of the officials and the execution of their responsibilities, then the Affairs of State will run smoothly.”

  • A saying attributed to the legendary figure, Yu the Great, in The Book of Documents/The Most Venerable Book (Shang Shu, chapter 3). Authorship of the text is vague, but the documents were said to have been edited by Confucius (c. 551-479 BCE). The translation used here is by Martin Palmer, Jay Ramsay and Victoria Finlay (Penguin Classic, 2014).

The Myth Of Antiope And Her Dramatic Conflict With Her Family In Thebes

By
thehistorianshut
-

According to ancient Greek myth and legend, Antiope was the daughter of Nycteus—a man who had served as a regent or steward ruler of Thebes and whose brother was King Lycos of Thebes. Although Nycteus did not share his brother’s throne, he nevertheless held great influence in Thebes due to his previous occupation as regent ruler, as well as from the respect and trust given to him by his brother, King Lycos. As for Antiope, even though she was not the daughter of the king, she nevertheless lived under the judgmental gaze of her father, Nycteus, as well as King Lycos and the Theban nobility, who all expected Antiope to behave as the prim and proper niece of the king. A chaste lifestyle was a given expectation for Antiope, since ancient and medieval monarchs all too often saw the women in their family as diplomatic tokens that were useful for creating alliances between royal houses. Suffice it to say, if Antiope had a romantic relationship before her father and uncle arranged a proper marriage for her, the consequences would be dire, and the severity of the punishment would be exponentially higher if Antiope became pregnant before her wedding day. Antiope took her situation seriously, but she unfortunately lived in the age of myth, populated by lusty Greek gods who did not care about the consequences of their actions.

Antiope, according to myth, ended up being raped by the powerful god, Zeus, and she became pregnant with twins after the assault. Regrettably, Antiope had no family support after she was violated. Instead, her father, Nycteus, and her uncle, King Lycos, were both outraged over her premarital pregnancy. Their verbal lashings, as well as threats of punishment, ultimately caused Antiope to flee from her homeland of Thebes. While she was on the run, Antiope eventually found her way to the city of Sicyon, where she was given shelter by King Epopeus. Antiope and her savior hit it off, to say the least, for King Epopeus reportedly married Antiope within months of her arrival.

Back in Thebes, Nycteus and King Lycos were still in a disturbed state of mind over Antiope’s pregnancy, and they had only become more enraged after she fled to King Epopeus of Sicyon. The story of what Antiope’s father, Nycteus, chose to do next differs from storyteller to storyteller, but the common thread is that he died—yet, not before he gave a final wish to his brother, King Lycos, demanding that the Theban king retrieve Antiope from Sicyon. In one version of the story, Nycteus killed himself and left his demand in a suicide note of sorts. The other version of the tale, however, claimed that Nycteus went off on his own to fetch Antiope from Sicyon and died during his mission, leaving his brother with an obligation of seeking vengeance. Whatever the case, Nycteus was dead, and his brother, King Lycos of Thebes, declared war on Sicyon. This series of events was concisely summarized by the ancient mythographer known as Pseudo-Apollodorus (c. 1st-2nd century), who wrote: “Antiope was a daughter of Nycteus; and Zeus had intercourse with her. When she turned out to be pregnant and her father threatened her, she ran away to Epopeus in Sicyon, and became his wife. Nycteus was thrown into such despondency that he killed himself, ordering Lycos to punish Epopeus and Antiope. So Lycos marched against Sicyon, killed Epopeus, and took Antiope prisoner” (Apollodorus, Library, 3.5.5).

Around nine months had evidently spanned in the time between her encounter with Zeus and her later capture at Sicyon, for Antiope reportedly gave birth to twins (named Zethos and Amphion) while she was being hauled back to Thebes. The children, however, were born into a perilous situation. King Lycos of Thebes was not in a forgiving mood—instead, he still wanted to punish Antiope, and these vicious thoughts also extended to her newborn children. Rather than take in the innocent twins as family, he chose the horrible option of leaving the babies behind, exposing them to nature.

Dragged away from her abandoned newborns, Antiope was brought back to Thebes where she was left imprisoned and was generally mistreated by King Lycos and his wife, Dirce. That dismal status quo, unfortunately, persisted for years, with Antiope being kept under guard all the while. Her treatment caused even the gods to take notice and show pity, and they would eventually arrange for Antiope’s freedom and revenge. Nevertheless, she would have to wait for quite a time.

As Antiope languished in her imprisonment, her abandoned newborn twins fared much better. They were demigods, after all—sons of Zeus—so, of course, being left on the side of a road was not the end of their story. According to myth, Antiope’s twins, Zethos and Amphion, were found and taken in by farmers. The twins, unaware of their real mother’s suffering, were raised in a peaceful existence, occupying themselves with peaceful tasks such as tending to farm animals and learning to play music. When they reached adulthood, however, fate soon yanked them out of their tranquil lifestyles, because at that time in Thebes, a divine intervention was beginning to occur.

Antiope, after years of imprisonment, eventually went through the peculiar experience of having all of her bonds and chains suddenly become miraculously unfastened. Similarly, any doors she came across in her prison were that day unlocked, and all of the guards who were usually tasked with keeping an eye on her were at that time indisposed. Given this perfect set of circumstances, Antiope bolted from her prison and slipped out of Thebes without ever drawing the attention of the Theban authorities. After her escape, divine inspiration continued to pull Antiope, leading her on a particular path into the countryside. Antiope continued to follow the pull of fate until she eventually stumbled upon a very special farm—it was the home where her twins, Zethos and Amphion, were residing. A long-lost family reunion could not have gone smoother; Antiope recognized her sons instantly and they, too, quickly accepted that the newly-arrived guest at their home was their birth mother. After hearing her story and learning of her mistreatment, Zethos and Amphion became furious, vowing to punish King Lycos and claim Thebes for themselves. Antiope’s twins made good on their word, and did so in brutal fashion. The aforementioned mythographer, Apollodorus, described the family reunion of Antiope and her sons, as well as their campaign of revenge: “As for Antiope, Lycos and his wife Dirce kept her in confinement and ill-treated her. One day, however, without her jailers knowing it, her bonds untied themselves of their own accord, and she made her way to her sons’ farmhouse, hoping to find refuge with them. Recognizing her as their mother, they killed Lycos, and bound Dirce to a bull, and then, when she was dead, hurled her body into the spring that bears the name of Dirce on her account” (Apollodorus, Library, 3.5.5).

After killing Lycos and Dirce, the twins successfully seized the throne of Thebes and notably were said to have constructed the city’s walls. Triumph and kingship aside, the brief happiness of Amphion and Zethos would only be temporary. Both of the brothers were wrapped up in tragedy, and each would eventually meet unnatural deaths. Zethos’ death is obscure, with the Greek scholar, Pausanias (c. 2nd century), only saying that “Zethos himself died of a broken heart” (Pausanias, Description of Greece, 9.5.9). Amphion, on the other hand, had a more infamous demise. His wife, as it happened, was the famous tragic figure, Niobe, whose many children were hunted down and killed by the twin-deities, Artemis and Apollo. Niobe’s slain children were also the sons and daughters of Amphion, and just like Niobe perished from sadness after the killing of her offspring, so, too, did Amphion eventually die as a result of his grief and rage. As for Antiope, following the killings of King Lycos and Dirce, the god Dionysus was said to have struck ever-unlucky Antiope with madness. She was aided in her recovery by man named Phocus of Tithorea and eventually married him. Hopefully, after such a long series of unfortunate twists and turns, Antiope finally found some peace.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Engraving of Antiope (figure by Gilles Rousselet, c. 1614–1686) and etching (background by Abraham Bosse, c. 1602,04–1676), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET.jpg).

 

Sources:

Apollo Pursues Daphne, Drawn By An Unidentified Artist between 1578 – 1660

By
thehistorianshut
-

This drawing, produced by an unidentified artist from the 16th or 17th century, depicts the ancient god, Apollo, and the Naiad nymph, Daphne. The drawing seems to be based on a painting of Apollo and Daphne made by the Italian artist Francesco Albani (c. 1578–1660). As told in the ancient mythological tales, Daphne—the female character on the left side of the drawing—had the misfortune of being near Apollo and Cupid while the two archer-gods 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 through a palpable display of his power over desire. What Cupid did next would ignite the scene displayed above in the drawing. Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE), an ancient Roman poet, described the event in his great poetic work, Metamorphoses:

“[Cupid] beat his wings and cut a path through the atmosphere,
nimbly alighting upon the heights of shady Parnassus.
Once there he drew from his quiver two arrows of contrary purpose:
one is for rousing passion, the other is meant to repel it.
The former is made of gold, and its head has a sharp, bright point,
while the latter is blunt and weighted with lead [on] one side of the reed shaft.
That was the arrow which Cupid implanted in Daphne’s bosom;
the other was aimed at Apollo and smote to the core of his being.
Phoebus [Apollo] at once was filled with desire, but Daphne fled
from the very thought of a lover”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, 1.466-475)

Such is the scene playing out in the drawing. It shows the events that unfolded after Cupid forced Apollo to fall in love with Daphne, who, in turn, was conversely inspired to reject all erotic urges. And so, the chase began. Ovid skillfully continued the tale:

“Flight made her all the more lovely; but now the god in his youthful
ardour was ready no longer to squander his breath on wheedling
pleas. Spurred on by desire, he followed the trail with new vigour.
Imagine a greyhound, imagine a hare it has sighted in open
country: one running to capture his prey, the other for safety.”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, 1.530-534)

Apollo was faster than Daphne and was steadily gaining ground on her. In the end, the Naiad nymph had to take drastic action to escape her pursuer. As the story goes, Daphne thwarted Apollo’s desires by transforming into a laurel tree. Although Apollo could not fulfill his Cupid-inspired passions, his devotion to Daphne was said to have continued after her transformation through a newfound platonic affection for laurels.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

John Jay

By
thehistorianshut
-

John Jay (c. 1745-1829)

“Among the many objects to which a wise and free people find it necessary to direct their attention, that of providing for their safety seems to be the first.”

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