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The Birth Of Bacchus, By An 18th-Century Artist

This painting, by an unidentified 18th-century artist, strives to re-create the mythical birth scene of the ancient god, Bacchus—the Roman equivalent of the Greek Dionysus, a god of vegetation and wine. Despite the sense of peace and serenity displayed in the artwork above, Dionysus’ birth (as told in ancient myths) was anything but tranquil. There are two major birth myths attributed to Dionysus. Both myths share the same main godly figures, but they set the events differently. In both myths, Zeus is recognized as the father of Dionysus. Both myths also portray Hera as a character who wishes harm to be done against Dionysus and his mother. Additionally, Zeus saves his son in both of the stories, allowing the god of wine to be born again—which gave Dionysus the name, ‘Twice-born.”

In the normal origin myth, Dionysus was the son of Zeus and the Theban princess, Semele. For those not familiar with Greek and Roman mythology, Zeus was not married to Semele. No, he was already wed to another deity, the goddess Hera. By sleeping with Zeus, Semele brought upon herself the wrath of none other than the queen of the Olympian gods. Hera appeared to Semele and planted a terrible idea in the princess’ head. She convinced Semele that Zeus’ divinity needed to be proved, as Zeus had only met with the princess in a disguise. The next time Zeus visited Semele, the princess made the lightning god promise to reveal himself in all his godly radiance. When Zeus fulfilled the promise, Semele, who was pregnant with Dionysus, was either burnt to death by the incredible light, or she was struck dead by stray lightning. Dionysus was brought into the world by Zeus’ destructive power, but the young god was not yet fully developed. Zeus sewed Dionysus into his thigh until the god was old enough to be born again. The normal birth myth ends with Zeus tasking the messenger-god Hermes with the mission of delivering Dionysus to a group of nymphs, who would watch over him until adulthood.

The other Dionysus origin myth was attributed to the mythical singer Orpheus, for anonymous hymns and writings that were associated with Orpheus’ name eventually came to influence the cult of Dionysus. So-called Orphic hymns are believed to have been written in Imperial Rome, between the reigns of Augustus and Constantine. In the Orphic telling of the Dionysus origin myth, the wine god’s parents were Zeus and Persephone. In this myth, Hera let the young god be born and her wrath skipped Persephone to fall solely on the young Dionysus. To eliminate the unquestionable evidence of her husband’s infidelity, Hera hired the strongest possible killers available to assassinate Dionysus—the Titans. The infant Dionysus was lured away from the safety of his powerful father, and the titans ripped the boy-god into pieces and ate the scraps. A goddess (different accounts name Athena, Rhea or Demeter) was able to salvage Dionysus’ beating heart, which was then delivered to Zeus. The lightning god was then able to impregnate Semele with that heart, bringing Dionysus back to life.

These, then, are the grisly origin myths of Dionysus (or Bacchus) that inspired the artwork. Despite the painting being called “the Birth of Bacchus,” the artwork more likely shows the upbringing of the god. In particular, the image probably features the moments after Zeus tasked Hermes with taking Dionysus to be raised by nymphs.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

  • Marvin W. Meyer. The Ancient Mysteries: A Sourcebook of Sacred Texts. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 1987.
  • Euripides. The Bacchae in The Ancient Mysteries edited by Marvin W. Meyer. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 1987.
  • Livy. History of Rome in The Ancient Mysteries edited by Marvin W. Meyer. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 1987.
  • Rule of the Iobacchoi in The Ancient Mysteries edited by Marvin W. Meyer. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 1987.
  • https://www.artic.edu/artworks/87637/the-birth-of-bacchus

Sophocles

Sophocles (c. 496-406/405 BCE)

“Of course you cannot know a man completely,
his character, his principles, sense of judgment,
not till he’s shown his colors, ruling the people,
making laws. Experience, there’s the test.”

  • From Sophocles’ Antigone, approximately between lines 170-180, translated by Robert Fagles (Penguin Classics, 1982, 1984, 2018).

Aristotle’s Philosophical View On The Origins Of Government

Many famous philosophers presented theories envisioning how primordial authority structure and ancient governments might have formed at the dawn of civilization. From absolute divine mandates of power, to carefully-negotiated social contracts between leaders and the masses, the philosophers had varying opinions on the origins and nature of governments and their right to rule. The famous Greek philosopher, Aristotle (384-322 BCE), fell into the social contract category, particularly the camp of social contract philosophers who believed that the earliest humans decided of their own volition to give power to a leader of their choice.

As was often the case in Aristotle’s philosophy, virtue played a major role. Envisioning the civilizations of primordial days, Aristotle postulated in his text, The Politics, that early peoples chose as their kings the most virtuous and talented people from among the community. When civilization evolved and kingdoms expanded, allowing multiple extraordinary people to coexist in a kingdom at the same time, the communities (according to Aristotle) now transitioned to a proto-democracy which was designed so that the wise people could be leaders together. On this, Aristotle wrote, “An especial function of good men is to confer benefits, and it was in recognition of the benefits that they had conferred that men were appointed to be kings. Then, when a large number of men of similar virtue became available, people no longer tolerated one-man rule but looked for something communal, and set up a constitution” (Aristotle, Politics, Bekker number 1286b). These proto-democracies that Aristotle imagined, however, did not remain harmonious for long.

According to Aristotle’s theory of government origin, the proto-democracies eventually became unbalanced as the members of the government began to turn away from virtue and instead became self-centeredly focused on enriching themselves. Honest and virtuous leaders still existed in the proto-democracy, but they were soon overpowered by the wealth and machinations of their corrupted peers. This victory of a greedy few over the preexisting assembly of virtuous leaders is what led, according to the philosopher, to the birth of oligarchies. Aristotle commented on this envisioned transition, writing, “the good men did not remain good: they began to make money out of that which was the common property of all. And to some such development we may plausibly ascribe the origin of oligarchies, since men made wealth a thing of honour” (Aristotle, Politics, Bekker number 1286b). With the triumph of wealth and power over virtue, the political struggle for ultimate control was just beginning.

In Aristotle’s philosophical model of government origin, the unstable oligarchies released a wave of intrigue and bloodshed that was caused by oligarchs trying to leverage their wealth and power in order to gain control over their fellow oligarchs. When a particular oligarch succeeded in subjugating his powerful peers, the government became a tyranny, led by a dictatorial tyrant. Yet, as oligarchs and tyrants battled among themselves, they reduced each other’s power and simultaneously stoked the ire of the masses, paving the way for the eventual resurgence of democracy. Aristotle wrote, “the next change was to tyrannies, and from tyrannies to democracy. For the struggle to get rich at all cost tended to reduce numbers, and so increased the power of the multitude, who rose up and formed democracies” (Aristotle, Politics, Bekker number 1286b). Such was Aristotle’s vision of civilization’s progress from tribes, to kingdoms, to proto-democracies, to oligarchies and tyrants, and finally back to democracy. It should be reiterated that Aristotle was a philosopher and that the Politics was a philosophical text. His outline of civilization’s progress was more of a social commentary than an attempt at history.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Oedipus Going Into Exile From Thebes, By Henri Augustin Gambard (c. 1819–1882), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons, Artvee, and the Detroit Institute of Arts).

 

Sources:

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

The Shipwreck Of Agrippina, By Gustav Wertheimer (c. 1847-1902)

This artwork by the Austrian artist, Gustav Wertheimer (c. 1847-1902), was inspired by the elaborate tales of Nero’s plots to assassinate his own mother, Agrippina the Younger. As the great-nephew of the reigning Roman emperor, Claudius (r. 41-54), Nero always had been royalty, but was originally not very high on the list of imperial succession. This was especially true since Claudius had a son named Britannicus. Nevertheless, Britannicus’ mother, Messalina, was executed after having an affair, and at the time when Claudius became single, Agrippina (who was also a widow) caught Claudius’ eye. The two married in the year 49 and Claudius formally adopted Agrippina’s son, Nero. Under Agrippina’s influence, Claudius began to favor Nero as heir more than his own son, Britannicus, who was around four years younger than his stepbrother. When Emperor Claudius died in the year 54, after allegedly having been poisoned by Agrippina, the seventeen-year-old Nero (with the help of his mother) was able to ascend to the throne against very little resistance.

Even though mother and son had made a remarkable climb up the social ladder of ancient Rome, tensions quickly arose between Agrippina and Emperor Nero (r. 54-68). Most ancient sources described Agrippina the Younger as a domineering woman who wanted to control her son, or at least to play a role in his decision-making process. Nevertheless, Nero was at that age when teenagers can only think of rebelling against their parents. The first major breach in the relationship between Nero and Agrippina occurred in the year 55, when the young emperor decided to use one of his mother’s tricks in order to remove a potential rival. Unfortunately, this rival was Nero’s own stepbrother, Britannicus, who was only fourteen years old at the time. According to the Roman historian, Tacitus (c. 56/57-117), Nero had Britannicus poisoned while they were both feasting together with other noble youths in Rome. While Agrippina the Younger had been more than happy to knock Britannicus down a peg in the imperial succession, she was extremely displeased about the boy’s assassination and made her opinion publicly known. In response, Nero took away her guards and forced her to move to a different residence.

By the year 59, Nero, with the support of his friends and confidants, began reportedly scheming about ways to kill Agrippina. Ancient Roman historians, like Tacitus, Cassius Dio and Suetonius, alleged that Agrippina the Younger had long been paranoid about assassination, and had taken precautions to prevent such an outcome. She was said to have stocked up on antidotes and was diligent in hiring food-tasters, and, more importantly, she was a cautious and observant woman. Even so, a man in Nero’s entourage thought up a plan that was intricate enough to overcome Agrippina’s caution. According to the ancient sources, a certain Anicetus engineered and manufactured a beautiful ship that Nero luxuriously decorated and furnished. All of this was allegedly done to make Agrippina covet the ship.

In the month of March, after Agrippina had become accustomed to the ship’s presence, Nero invited his mother out to a place called Bauli, in the coastal region of Campania. While there, Nero convinced Agrippina to ride on the ship. At first, she was hesitant, yet her son was unfortunately able to talk her out of her fears. When Agrippina and at least two friends boarded the ship, little did they know that Nero’s companion, Anicetus, had rigged the vessel to have a catastrophic failure. According to Tacitus, the ship’s cabin imploded mid-way through the journey, crushing to death one of Agrippina’s friends and injuring the others. The next step of Nero’s plan was to sink the ship. Some accounts claimed that Anicetus had set up some way for the ship to take on water, while others wrote that accomplices among the crew threw their own weight against the sides of the ship in an attempt to make it tip over. In any event, some crewmen were apparently in on the plot, for Tacitus claimed that one woman was beaten to death with oars when she was mistakenly identified as Agrippina. Whatever the case, the ship was a deathtrap and it is this diabolical plot in action that Gustav Wertheimer brought to life in his artwork.

As the story goes, Agrippina survived the deadly ship. Wounded but still mobile, she had managed to dive into the water and swim for safety. The danger, however, was not over. Although Agrippina allegedly knew that her son was behind the ship’s collapse, she decided to play ignorant, and sent a message to Nero, telling him that she was ok and that he did not need to worry. When the messenger arrived, Nero was said to have placed a sword by the man’s feet and then had him arrested, pronouncing that he was an assassin sent by Agrippina. With that staged excuse, Nero sent Anicetus with a band of soldiers to surround Agrippina’s home and to finally finish the job. The soldiers found the emperor’s mother in her bedroom, recovering from wounds she suffered while on the imploding ship. This time, the assassins did not fail.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Sources:

Mark Twain

Mark Twain (c. 1835-1910)

“As soon as one is at rest, in this world, off he goes on something else to worry about.”

  • From chapter 5 of Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur’s Court (Published in 1889). The edition used here is by Bantam/Random House (1981, 2005).

The Tale Of Sickly Zosimus The Bard

A man named Zosimus was a freedman who was employed as an entertainer by the Roman lawyer and statesman, Pliny the Younger (c. 61/62-113). Zosimus was an educated fellow with a talent for reading and reciting literature. He honed in himself the skills required for physically bringing literature to life, becoming a talented actor and a pleasant singer, as well as becoming an orator who could dynamically narrate poetry, books or speeches. These gifts were accompanied by great musical ability, as he could play musical instruments (his specialty being the lyre) to complement the literature that he presented. All in all, Zosimus was a talented performer who could dazzle any crowd. As described by his employer, Pliny the Younger, Zosimus was, “an honest fellow, obliging and educated, marked out by his talent for acting, where he has great success. His delivery is clear and intelligent, his acting correct and balanced, and he plays the lyre well, better than an actor need do. He also reads speeches, history, and poetry so well that it might be his sole accomplishment” (Pliny the Younger, Letters, 5.19). Pliny had a great affection for the entertainer, not just for the man’s impressive abilities, but also on a personal level as a human being and a friend.

At some point during Zosimus’ employment with Pliny the Younger, the entertainer began to fall seriously ill. Zosimus, however, continued to push through his illness and performed despite his increasingly concerning symptoms. Ultimately, Zosimus was said to have been in the middle of a performance when he finally reached a breaking point that could no longer be ignored. As told by Pliny, “Some years ago he was exerting himself during a passionate performance when he began to spit blood. I then sent him to Egypt, and after a long stay there he recently returned with his health restored. Now after demanding too much of his voice for several days on end he has had a slight return of his cough as a reminder of the old trouble, and once again has brought up blood” (Pliny the Younger, Letters, 5.19). With the sudden and dramatic return of the performer’s symptoms, Pliny the Younger decided to send Zosimus off on another vacation for some rest and relaxation. Instead of sending the entertainer back to Egypt, this time Pliny sent Zosimus to the south of France (Gallia Narbonensis) to stay on the estate of a friend named Valerius Paulinus. The move likely did not improve Zosimus’ sickly condition, but Pliny and other friends kept the ailing performer well looked-after and presumably in good spirits until the end.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Musician from a terracotta amphora (jar), c. 490 BCE, attributed to the so-called Berlin Painter, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET.jpg).

 

Sources:

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

Achilles Mourning The Death Of Patroclus, By A Member Of The Circle Of Jacques-Louis David (c. 1748-1825)

This painting, produced by a member of the circle of Jacques-Louis David (c. 1748-1825), shows a pivotal scene from the storyline of the hero, Achilles, featured in Homer’s Trojan War epic poem, The Iliad. The artwork takes a snapshot of a specific event that occurred well into Homer’s war-torn plot, and before we comment further on the painting, a quick recap of The Iliad’s storyline may be helpful to bring context to the scene.

Achilles, while he served alongside the warriors of the Greek coalition during the Trojan War, had to grudgingly follow the lead of King Agamemnon (the commander-in-chief of the Greek forces for the duration of the Trojan War). Achilles’ obedience to the Greek leader was tested, however, when a chaotic dispute broke out over two women who had been captured by the Greeks during their siege of Troy. The women were named Chryseis and Briseis, the former being held by Agamemnon, and the latter being claimed by Achilles.

Chryseis, so the story goes, was the daughter of a priest of the god, Apollo. Her priestly father was greatly respected by the god that he served, and Apollo, in response to the imprisonment of his favored priest’s daughter, decided to ravage the Greek army with a terrible plague. In order to end the plague, the king needed only to return Chryseis to her father. Ultimately, Agamemnon agreed to let Chryseis go, but the king loathed to lose his spoils of war and decided to make up his losses by commandeering a captive from another leader in his army. To the dismay of the whole Greek coalition, Agamemnon decided that he wanted the other recently-captured woman, Briseis, whom Achilles had taken into custody. Although Achilles balked at the demand, King Agamemnon ultimately used his authority and status as leader of the Greek coalition to force Achilles to give up Briseis.

Agamemnon’s acquisition of Briseis came at a steep price. Although Achilles did indeed hand over the captive woman, the incident consequently angered the mighty Greek hero to the extent that he decided to cease his cooperation with the Greek war effort. At first, Achilles’ band of elite warriors—the Myrmidons—decided to join their leader in his protest. Yet, when the Greek forces at the siege of Troy began to struggle in the absence of their greatest fighters, certain members of Achilles’ warband felt the need to rejoin the battle, regardless of Achilles’ feud with Agamemnon. This brings us to the character, Patroclus—Achilles’s best friend and the man to whom the Greeks and other battle-eager Myrmidons turned when Achilles refused to fight.

Patroclus, unwilling to continue sitting out the war, decided to rejoin the battle. Hoping to boost the morale of the Greeks and to demoralize the Trojans, Patroclus decided to go to battle not in his own set of armor, but instead to show up for war in the famous gear of Achilles. When Patroclus did this, his actions, indeed, caught the eyes of the Trojans. In particular, it attracted the attention of Troy’s greatest hero, Hector, who engaged Patroclus in battle. Although Patroclus was a mighty warrior, he stood no match against Hector. In the end, Hector slew Patroclus in battle and looted the armor of Achilles that had been brought to the battlefield. News eventually trickled back to camp that Patroclus had died, and when Achilles learned of his best friend’s death, he flew into a rage. Achilles’ horrifying howls could be heard from the battlefield, flipping the momentum of the fray back into Greek favor. Patroclus’s body was recovered by Achilles, who decided to rejoin the war effort to seek revenge against Hector.

Yet, for Achilles to go back to battle, he would need a new set of armor, as his previous gear had been taken by Hector. This predicament was solved by Achilles’ mother, the influential nymph Thetis, who quickly traveled to the craftsman god Hephaestus and convinced the talented deity to fashion a new set of armor that was exponentially better than the last. It is approximately this point in the plot that is featured in the scene from the painting above—Achilles is displayed mourning over the body of Patroclus, presumably while Thetis is off fetching a new set of armor for her son. After Achilles accepted his new gear and ended his mourning, he rejoined the war and ultimately slew Hector in a famous duel. With Hector no longer manning the walls of Troy, the city was doomed to inevitably fall to the Greek siege. Yet, Troy’s last stand would also fatefully prove to be Achilles’ final battle.

 

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

The Bizarre Hiring Of Prime Minister Fu Yue

A mysterious wiseman named Yue lived a bizarre life around the late 13th century BCE. He was a contemporary of King Wu Ding of the Shang/Yin Dynasty (r. 1238-1180) and Yue’s fate would be intriguingly intertwined with that of the king. As the legends go, King Wu Ding spent the first years of his reign in silence and meditation. While he was in a meditative state or dreaming, the king allegedly had a vivid vision of a man who he believed would be a perfect mentor and official. After this experience, the king became obsessed with finding this person. He summoned artists and described for them the figure he had seen from his mind. The artists went to work and produced an illustration of the man the king had seen—unbeknownst to the king and his artists at that time, the artwork closely resembled the wiseman Yue.

King Wu Ding, determined to find the person from his vision, ultimately equipped trusted agents with the illustration of the mysterious figure and sent them out into the kingdom to search for anyone who resembled the artwork. It took some time, but the agents eventually ran into the mysterious wiseman, Yue, in a region called Fu Yan. This tale of King Wu Ding having a vision of the wiseman and then sending agents out to locate him was recorded in the Book of Documents (Shang Shu), otherwise known as the Most Venerable Book, a text that has its origins in the days before Confucius (c. 551-479 BCE). Purporting to quote King Wu Ding, the Shang Shu stated, “’while I was in a state of grace, meditating on the proper way ahead, I had a dream sent from on high. I saw that I had been bestowed a good advisor who would speak for me.’ The king then described the person he had seen in is dream and had a portrait made of him, which was sent throughout the land. As a result, it was found that only a man named Yue, then living in the wilderness of Fu Yan, fitted the description” (Shang Shu, chapter 21). This account, describing the wiseman living in the wilderness, makes Yue seem like an ascetic figure communing with nature. Other accounts, however, made Yue’s time in the Fu region seem less picturesque.

Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), the Grand Historian during the time of Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty (r.  141-87 BCE), made brief mentions of Yue in his text, the Shi ji (Records of the Grand Historian). Sima Qian and other sources referred to the wiseman as Fu Yue, with Fu (mentor) being a reference to the sage’s eventual role of instructing and advising King Wu Ding. In one section of the Shi Ji, Sima Qian quoted a poem by Jia Yi (c. 201-169 BCE), in which it was stated that “Fu Yue was sent into bondage” (Shi ji 84). In a later section of his text, Sima Qian elaborated further on the wiseman’s chained origins, stating, “Fu Yue served as a convict labourer among the cliffs of Fu” (Shi ji 124). These passages, instead of painting Yue as an ascetic mystic camping in the wilderness, contrastingly present an opposing view that Yue had been arrested and was an imprisoned laborer in the time before he was fortuitously discovered by King Wu Ding’s agents. Whatever the case, Yue was an intelligent and philosophically-astute person who gained the trust of the king and also earned the respect of other advisors in the king’s court.

Once Yue was finally discovered and ventured to the court of King Wu Ding, he began his duties by teaching the king the way of virtue. As the story goes, Yue and the king met twice a day—in the morning and evening—in order to discuss how a virtuous ruler should act. These lessons on virtue eventually transitioned into general advice on life, as well as suggestions for governing the realm. According to sayings attributed to the wiseman in the Shang Shu, Yue taught that rulers should operate with caution and situational awareness, and advocated for kings to rule through a system of virtuous meritocracy that rewarded both talent and virtue. Contrastingly, he warned rulers against succumbing to personal complacency and he also advised that states should cut down on arbitrary, burdensome ceremonies. In addition, Yue also stressed that instead of just knowing what is right and wrong, people should put that knowledge into action and make an effort to act virtuously. King Wu Ding was impressed and satisfied with these teachings and he eventually decided to promote Yue to the position of Prime Minister of the kingdom.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Sage Under Windy Tree, made by an unidentified artist from the 18th–19th century, [Public Domain[ via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

Sources:

The Emperor Heraclius Carrying the Cross, by Pierre Subleyras (c. 1699-1749)

This painting, by the French artist Pierre Subleyras (c. 1699-1749), recalls stories of Emperor Heraclius of Constantinople (r. 610-641) and the role that he played in rescuing a holy relic. The relic in question was an item of interest during a long war between Constantinople and Persia that occurred between 602 and 628. War between the two empires was sparked in 602, when Emperor Phocas took power in Constantinople by overthrowing the previous emperor, Maurice—an emperor who had close and friendly relations with the Persian ruler, Khosrow II (r. 591-628). When news of Emperor Maurice’s downfall reached Persia, Khosrow II declared war on the upstart emperor, Phocas, beginning a conflict that would rage for over two and a half decades. Phocas’ military fared poorly against the Persians, and general discontent with his rule ultimately led to the ascendance of Heraclius, who overthrew and executed Phocas in 610.

As the new emperor of Constantinople, Heraclius now had to deal with the war with Persia, which had been going poorly for Constantinople up to that point. Heraclius, however, did not rush to face the Persians—he spent his first decade in power mainly solidifying his authority and also dealing with more immediate threats from Avar incursions near the capital city. During that time, the Persian onslaught was still continuing, and most important for the painting above, the Persians conquered the regions of Syria and Palestine in 614. While passing through Jerusalem, the Persians obtained a relic that was supposedly a piece of the cross used in Jesus’ crucifixion (a relic often referred to as the “precious and lifegiving wood”). The chronicler, Theophanes (c. 750s-818), referenced the event of this relic being obtained by the Persians. He wrote, “The Persians captured and led off to Persia Zachariah the patriarch of Jerusalem, the precious and lifegiving wood, and many prisoners” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6106).

Around 622, Emperor Heraclius finally shifted to an offensive stance in his war against Persia, and in the following years of warfare he brought the Persian court to its knees by boldly invading deep into Persian territory, where he outmaneuvered and inflicted successive defeats on Persian armies. Khosrow, after being chased by Heraclius all the way back to the Persian capital city of Ctesiphon in 628, found himself imperiled by mutinous generals and treacherous family members. Ultimately, Khosrow II was overthrown by his eldest son, known variously as Shērōē (or Siroes), Qobad, or Kavadh II. This treacherous son made peace with Emperor Heraclius, and in the negotiations that ensued, the cross relic that had been taken from Jerusalem was transferred into the custody of Heraclius. Peace achieved and the cross relic in his possession, Emperor Heraclius first returned to Constantinople, but then he quickly arranged for a trip to Jerusalem, where the cross relic would be returned. Commenting on this pilgrimage to Jerusalem, the chronicler Theophanes wrote, “Herakleios entered Jerusalem. He restored Zachariah the patriarch and the precious and lifegiving wood to their own place and gave thanks to God” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6120).

The cross, however, did not remain long in Jerusalem. Although the war with Persia was over, another great war was just beginning. It just so happened that Islam come 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 the 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). The threat from these invasions caused Emperor Heraclius to retrieve the cross relic from Jerusalem. Theophanes, the aforementioned chronicler, wrote, “Herakleios had despaired and abandoned Syria; he took the precious wood from Jerusalem and went off to Constantinople” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6125).

Unfortunately for Constantinople, 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, while Heraclius personally went to great lengths behind the scenes to improve the military readiness and fortifications of Anatolia. When Emperor Heraclius finally died of his cumulating health ailments in 641, the exhausted military of Constantinople had not been able to push back the Arab gains in the Middle East and therefore the cross relic remained kept away from Jerusalem.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

Lord Shang (recorded by Sima Qian)

Lord Shang (c. 4th century BCE)

“If you are going to act the part of a great man, you must expect the censure of the age. When one is unique in the wisdom of his foresight, he is bound to rouse the animosity of the people. The stupid are blind even to things already done, but the wise can spy what has yet to put out sprouts.”

  • From dialogue attributed to Lord Shang (c. 4th century BCE), recorded in the Records of the Grand Historian (Shi Ji 68) by Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE). Translated by Burton Watson (Columbia University Press, 1993).