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Odysseus and Nausicaa, Painted By Salvator Rosa (c. 1615-1673)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, by the Italian artist Salvator Rosa (c. 1615-1673), depicts a scene from Homer’s epic poem, The Odyssey. In particular, the artwork re-creates an episode from the poem in which the main character, Odysseus, was washed ashore by one of Poseidon’s great storms onto the coastal territory of a mythological or legendary people called the Phaeacians. Due to the influence of Odysseus’ guardian goddess, Athena, it was divinely planned that the stranded hero would soon be introduced to new allies among the Phaeacians who would help him on his journey. This help came in the form of Nausicaa, daughter of the Phaeacian rulers, King Alcinous and Queen Arete.

As it happened, Odysseus was beached at Nausicaa’s favorite spot where she and her maids often cleaned laundry and bathed in a tributary river. Much to the stranded traveler’s benefit, it was currently laundry day, so Nausicaa and her companions traveled to the river with armfuls of clothing, as well as some provisions and toys. It was from the loud revelry of these merry women that Odysseus was awakened from his shipwrecked stupor. Homer described the memorable first interaction between these characters:

“So Odysseus, naked as he was, made a move towards these girls with their braided hair; necessity compelled him. Grimy with salt he was a gruesome sight, and the girls went scuttling off in every direction along the jutting spits of sand. Alcinous’ daughter Nausicaa was the only one to stand firm. Athena put courage into her heart and took away the fear from her limbs, and she stood her ground and faced him. Odysseus considered whether he should throw his arms round the beautiful girl’s knees and beg for help, or just keep his distance and beg her with all courtesy to give him clothing and direct him to the city. He decided that as the lady might take offence if he embraced her knees it would be better to keep his distance and courteously plead his case” (Homer, The Odyssey, book 6, approximately lines 120-150).

It is this scene of naked Odysseus—strategically covered by some vegetation—revealing himself (pun intended) to the Phaeacian women that Salvator Rosa re-creates in his painting. Despite Odysseus’ awkward introduction, he succeeded in winning over Nausicaa. She, in turn, helped Odysseus gain an audience with her regal parents, the king and queen. Fortunately, Odysseus and his hosts got along well, and the Phaeacians ultimately agreed to ferry the traveler back to his home in Ithaca.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Felix The Grammarian And His Treasured Staff

By
thehistorianshut
-

Felix the Grammarian was a scholar and teacher who flourished in war-torn Italy during the transition period between the 7th and 8th centuries. He was particularly active within the regions of Italy that were controlled by the Lombards at that time, and his presence did not go unnoticed by the nobility. The Lombard monarchy eventually decided to recruit Felix into their court, and the grammarian accepted their offer of patronage. Exactly how the monarchy utilized Felix is vague, but the grammarian was said to have grown particularly close to King Cunincpert of the Lombards (r. 688-700). The affection was evidently mutual, for the king was said to have personally rewarded Felix with many gifts for his services, making the grammarian the envy of the realm’s scholars. Of the gifts and rewards, the most famous present was a staff that was lavishly adorned with gold and silver. Felix’ fame and rewards were commented on by the Lombard historian, Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799), who was curiously educated by the grammarian’s nephew. Paul wrote, “At that time Felix, the uncle of my teacher Flavian was renowned in the grammatical art. The king loved him so much that he bestowed upon him among other gifts of his bounty, a staff decorated with silver and gold” (Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards, 6.7). Unfortunately, little else is known about the fate of Felix the Grammarian in his later life, or about what became of his opulent staff.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Figure study, old man with staff, possibly Polonius in “Hamlet” by Edwin Austin Abbey (c. 1852–1911), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Yale University Art Gallery).

 

Sources:

  • History of the Lombards by Paul the Deacon, translated by William Dudley Foulke (c. 1904). University of Pennsylvania Press, 1907, 1974, 2003.

Cincinnatus Receiving The Ambassadors From Rome, by Alexandre Cabanel (c. 1823-1889)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, titled Cincinnatus Recevant Les Ambassadeurs De Rome (or Cincinnatus Receiving The Ambassadors From Rome), was created by the French artist Alexandre Cabanel (c. 1823-1889). Cabanel’s painting re-creates a famous legend from the days of the early Roman Republic. In particular, the scene is set in the year 458 BCE, when the Romans were facing a combined threat from Aequians and Sabines, who had managed to trap and besiege a Roman army led by Consul Minucius. Filled with fear and anxiety over the army’s dire predicament, the Romans decided to appoint a dictator to quickly pull together a new force to rescue Consul Minucius’ besieged forces. Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus was the man chosen for the job, but, as the story goes, Cincinnatus was not present when the government nominated him as dictator. Therefore, messengers had to go to Cincinnatus’ farm to tell him of his powerful appointment. The famous scene was described by the Roman historian Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE):

“Cincinnatus, the one man in Rome who reposed all her hope of survival, was at that moment working a little three-acre farm (now known as the Quinctian Meadows) west of the Tiber, just opposite the spot where the shipyards are today. A mission from the city found him at work on his land—digging a ditch, maybe, or ploughing. Greetings were exchanged, and he was asked—with a prayer for God’s blessing on himself and his country—to put on his toga and hear the Senate’s instructions. This naturally surprised him, and, asking if all were well, he told his wife Racilia to run to their cottage and fetch his toga. The toga was brought, and wiping the grimy sweat from his hands and face he put it on; at once the envoys from the city saluted him, with congratulations, as Dictator…” (Livy, History of Rome, 3.26).

Such is the scene that Alexandre Cabanel re-creates in his painting. Shirtless Cincinnatus can be seen standing in front of his beasts of burden and speaking to a group of messengers from the city of Rome. His wife, Racilia, had perhaps just been sent off to fetch a toga for Cincinnatus, who was being told that he was now dictator of Rome.

As Cincinnatus was a figure of legend, it comes as no surprise that he produced legendary results during his short term in office. As the story goes, he quickly trained the remaining manpower in Rome into an elite fighting force. After they reached their destination, Cincinnatus’ troops reportedly freed Consul Minucius’ army by attacking the besiegers at night, winning victory by dawn. When the victorious Cincinnatus returned to Rome, he reportedly resigned from his powerful position as quickly as possible. According to the aforementioned historian Livy, Cincinnatus held the office of dictator for fifteen days in 458 BCE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

Lucan

By
thehistorianshut
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Lucan (c. 39-65)

“Blind fool! What god besides Death can guarantee
that you’ll feel no shock of war, that you’ll be free
from a world in trouble?”

  • From Lucan’s Civil War (Book 5, approximately between lines 209-239), translated by Matthew Fox (Penguin Classics, 2012).

The Legendary Grudge Of Thorstein The Shipbuilder

By
thehistorianshut
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Thorstein the Shipbuilder (also known simply as Thorstein Shipbuilder) was, as his name conveys, a man who built ships in 11th-century Norway. He specifically was known for constructing trade ships (as opposed to warships), but his proclivity for building mercantile sea crafts instead of war vessels was jolted out of balance when King Olaf II of Norway (r. 1015-1028) one day commandeered Thorstein’s most prized trade ship. Although the date and circumstances of this incident were left vague by medieval historians and storytellers, the seizure of the beloved ship was a traumatic and life-altering event for Thorstein. After the confiscation of the prized ship, he evidently held an undying grudge that festered for years.

Thorstein the Shipbuilder was likely happy when King Olaf II of Norway began to face trouble in 1028. That year, powerful Canute (or Knút) the Great, who had been the ruler of England since 1016 and king of Denmark since 1019, spectacularly dethroned Olaf II with an impressive campaign of diplomacy and military posturing, ultimately forcing the Norwegian king to flee from Norway. King Olaf II, however, was not willing to relinquish Norway to Canute without a fight, even if that fight came belatedly. In 1030, Olaf invaded Norway with an army in an attempt to reclaim his kingdom.

When Olaf II returned to Norway, he was not given a warm reception. Canute’s deputies in Norway were able to recruit enough anti-Olaf Norwegians to build a defending army that was larger than the invading force. Thorstein the Shipbuilder, still holding his grudge, was quick to answer the call of the anti-Olaf recruiters. He was not a recruit that would have been looked down upon, for he was quite experienced in war. Like many other Nordic seafaring merchants of that time, Thorstein had dabbled in Viking raids and had proved himself to be effective in that line of work. Therefore, the ship builder was no stranger to the armor and axes with which he equipped himself for battle.

In the Battle of Stiklestad that ensued that year (1030) between Olaf and his resistors, Thorstein was said to have played an incredibly significant role. As the story goes, he fought his way into the thick of the action, eventually reaching the target of his bitter grudge. According to the Icelandic historian, Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), “Thorstein Shipbuilder hewed at King Olaf with his battle-axe, and the blow struck his left leg above the knee” (Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 228). Thorstein’s revenge came at a price—he was immediately killed by Olaf’s guards after the blow was delivered. Nevertheless, the damage was done. Slowed and weakened by Thorstein’s axe blow, Olaf could no longer defend himself, and he was quickly killed in battle by Thorstein the Shipbuilder’s comrades in arms.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Viking Ships, painted by Hans Gude (c. 1825-1903), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the National Museum in Norway).

 

Sources:

  • Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.

The Victory of Alexander over King Porus, by Charles-André Vanloo (aka. Carle Van Loo, c. 1705 – 1765)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, by the French artist Charles-André Vanloo (aka. Carle Van Loo, c. 1705 – 1765), was inspired by a battle won by Alexander the Great (r. 336-323 BCE) near the end of his impressive career of conquests. Vanloo’s artwork is set in the year 326 BCE, by which point Alexander had arrived at the borderlands of India, following years of pushing his way through Anatolia, trekking down the Mediterranean coast to Egypt, and then relentlessly piercing his way through the Achaemenid Empire of Persia, ultimately defeating its King of Kings and claiming its land as his own. By 326 BCE, after the Achaemenid Dynasty was toppled and other vestiges of Persian resistance were crushed, Alexander the Great set his sights on the borderlands of India, where he eventually clashed with a local king who was known to the Greeks as Porus. The opposing forces met in the Battle of the Hydaspes, named after a river commonly identified with the modern Jhelum River.

As told in an account of the battle written by the historian, Arrian (c. 90-173+), Alexander launched a three-pronged assault across the river and was able to successfully maneuver his cavalry and infantry to encircle Porus’ army. Porus had elephants on his side, but these creatures had a reputation for being fickle in battle, sometimes posing just as much of a threat to their own army as to the opposing side. Whatever the case, Alexander was able to contain and overcome the challenge posed by the elephants during the foray. Arrian described the battle:

“Among the [Indian] dead were two sons of Porus, Spiaces the local Indian governor, all the officers in command of the elephants and chariots, and all the cavalry officers and other commanders of high rank. The surviving elephants were captured…Throughout the action Porus had proved himself a man indeed, not only as a commander but as a soldier of the truest courage…It was only when he was himself wounded that he turned the elephant on which he rode and began to withdraw” (Arrian, Anabasis of Alexander, 5.18).

It is difficult to say what particular part of the battle Charles-André Vanloo wished to re-create in his painting. Perhaps the artwork shows the death of one of Porus’ sons, or maybe the figure being lowered to the ground is meant to be King Porus, himself, who suffered a non-fatal injury during the battle. Whatever the case, Alexander the Great evidently admired the Indian king and, after accepting his surrender, Alexander let Porus continue to govern the local area.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

Pope Gregory II’s Golden Exchange For Cumae

By
thehistorianshut
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Pope Gregory II (r. 715-731) lived at a time when the city of Rome was becoming increasingly estranged from Constantinople and the Eastern Roman Empire—a trajectory that would eventually lead to the independence of the Papal States in 756. Despite this future, Pope Gregory II’s Rome remained politically and militarily aligned with the Eastern Roman Empire. Constantinople, however, was suffering at that time from decades of frequent regime changes, and the weary imperial city could not adequately defend its waning territory in Italy. Therefore, Rome and other imperial strongholds in Italy had to start taking the initiative to coordinate together on their own against external threats.

Rome’s greatest physical threat in the 8th century was the kingdom of the Lombards, led at that time by formidable King Liutprand (r. 712-744). Since their arrival in Italy around the year 568, the Lombards had been waging a multi-generational campaign of conquest in Italy, with the Lombard kings and their often loosely-controlled dukes taking control of great swaths of land. Pope Gregory II was still facing this relentless expansion in the 8th century. One of the earliest Lombard assaults during Pope Gregory’s time in power occurred around 717, when an army of Lombards (presumably led by Duke Romuald II of Benevento) successfully stormed and captured the fortress of Cumae. Constantinople was a bit busy at that time, for Emperor Theodosius III (r. 715-717) was being overthrown by Emperor Leo III (r. 717-741), meaning a timely response from an emperor would be unlikely. Therefore, Pope Gregory II decided to take it upon himself to provide an incentive for imperial strongholds in Italy to respond to the Lombard attack.

As the story goes, Pope Gregory II reached out to the Eastern Roman Empire’s leader of the Naples region and proposed a deal. If the Neapolitan troops could retake the fortress of Cumae from the Lombards, the pope was prepared to hand over a reported seventy pounds of gold to the leader of Naples. The local leader of the Neapolitans agreed to the arrangement and rallied his troops for battle. These back-and-forth campaigns for Cumae were recorded by a Lombard historian named Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799), who wrote:

“While the blessed Pope Gregory indeed of the Roman See was still living, the fortress of Cumae was taken by the Langobards of Beneventum, but…certain of the Langobards were [later] captured and others were killed by the duke of Naples. Also the fortress itself was retaken by the Romans. For the ransom of this fortress the Pontiff gave seventy pounds of gold as he had promised in the first place” (Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards, 6.40).

As told by Paul the Deacon, Pope Gregory II’s plan worked, with the duke of Naples successfully reconquering Cumae in exchange for the pope’s payment. Nevertheless, this would not be the last time the Lombards and Rome clashed, especially after the Eastern Roman Empire’s Italian cities began to resist and rebel against Constantinople during the Iconoclasm Controversy. In addition to Pope Gregory II, King Liutprand of the Lombards also waged war against Pope Gregory III (r. 731-741) and Pope Zacharias (r. 741-752).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Pope and Queen from BL Royal 16 G VI, f. 239, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons, Europeana and The British Library).

 

Sources:

Selene and Endymion, Painted By Ubaldo Gandolfi (c. 1728-1781)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, by the Italian artist Ubaldo Gandolfi (c. 1728-1781), was inspired by the story of the mythological figure, Endymion. His tale is a hybrid of myths from the Eleian and Carian regions, combining to form a narrative about a beautiful prince or king who was granted eternal sleep, and whose never-waking body became the object of obsession for a goddess. A scholar known as the Pseudo-Apollodorus (c. 1st-2nd century) summarized the myths of Endymion:

“Calyce and Aethlios had a son, Endymion, who led the Aeolians out of Thessaly and founded Elis. It is said by some, however, that Endymion was a son of Zeus. Because of his exceptional beauty the Moon fell in love with him; and when Zeus allowed him the choice of whatever he wished, he chose to sleep for ever and so remain untouched by either age or death” (Apollodorus, Library, I.7.5).

In keeping with the myths, Ubaldo Gandolfi depicts Endymion sound asleep, albeit on curious rocky steps that would be an uncomfortable place to spend an eternal nap. Floating above him is the moon goddess, Selene, who was sometimes swapped out with the fellow goddess, Diana/Artemis, by other artists in their own paintings of the Endymion tale. Flying beside Selene is Cupid (or the Greek Eros)—a love god keeping the goddess infatuated with the sleeping hero.

 

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

Giovanni Boccaccio

By
thehistorianshut
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Giovanni Boccaccio (c. 1313-1375)

“So let the critics hold their tongues, and if they are unable to radiate any warmth, let them freeze, let them pursue the pleasures that appeal to their jaded palates, and leave me to enjoy my own in the brief life that we are given.”

  • The Decameron (Fourth Day, Introduction) by Giovanni Boccaccio, translated by G. H. McWilliam. New York: Penguin Classics, 2003.

The Grudging Tale Of Ketilbjorn The Old’s Buried Silver

By
thehistorianshut
-

A man named Ketilbjorn the Old was said to have been a Norwegian nobleman who settled in Southern Iceland around the 10th century, building an estate called Mosfell. Over his life, he was said to have acquired a great amount of wealth, and much of this opulence was allegedly made up of precious metals. In particular, he was said to have possessed a huge quantity of silver. According to legend, he had so much silver on hand that Ketilbjorn thought he would be able to melt it down to create a silver ingot so large that it could serve as a crossbeam for a temple. Outlandish as it sounds, that is exactly what he reportedly decided to do with his great supply of silver. Yet, when the aging settler expressed this wish to his large household of children (Teit, Thormod, Thorleif, Ketil, Thorkatla, Oddleif, Thorgerd, Thurid and Skaering), the shocked offspring scoffed at the idea and refused to help their father bring his project to fruition.

Ketilbjorn, it was said, did not take well the rejection of his silver crossbeam idea. In fact, he seemed to be quite angry and begrudging in response to the family intervention. After failing to get his family onboard with his costly temple beam idea, he evidently came to an interesting decision—if he could not have his giant silver beam, then his children would not have the silver either. This peculiar tale and Ketilbjorn’s ultimate actions were recorded in the medieval Icelandic Book of Settlements, which stated, “Ketilbjorn was so wealthy he told his sons to forge a cross beam of silver for the temple they built, but they wouldn’t do it. Then he took the silver and hauled it up to the mountain by means of two oxen and with the help of his slave Haki and his bondmaid Bot he buried the silver, and it’s never been found” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 385). With the location of the treasure being such an important secret, Ketilbjorn the Old could only trust himself. Therefore, naturally, he was said to have quickly murdered his accomplices, Haki and Bot.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Cropped illustration titled “Variant av illustrasjon til ‘Håkon den godes saga’ i Snorre Sturlason, Kongesagaer, Kristiania 1899,” by Christian Krohg (c. 1852-1925), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the National Museum of Norway).

 

Sources:

  • The Book of Settlements (Sturlubók version) translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1972, 2006.
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