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Decius Mus Addressing the Legions, by Peter Paul Rubens (c. 1577 – 1640)

This painting, by the Flemish artist Peter Paul Rubens (c. 1577 – 1640), was inspired by a legendary story from the history of the ancient Roman Republic. The scene is set in 340 BCE, when the consuls Publius Decius Mus and Titus Manlius Imperiosus Torquatus were leading the forces of Rome in a war against the Latin League. According to legend, both consuls of Rome had dreams (or perhaps nightmares) in which godly messengers demanded that a Roman consul had to die if the Roman army wanted to be victorious during the campaign against the Latins. Naturally, neither of the consuls was eager at the moment to take one for the team, as it were. Despite their pre-battle impass, Publius Decius Mus and Titus Manlius Imperiosus Torquatus did come to a morbid agreement—they decided that if the battle began to go bad for the Romans, fulfilling the dream’s orders would be the duty of the consul whose respective wing of the army was faltering. They also reportedly divulged this agreement to other officers of the Roman army, so that the officers could plan and prepare for the worst. On this, the ancient historian Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE) wrote, “so they summoned the legates and tribunes and publicly announced the gods’ commands, hoping thereby that the army in the field would not be alarmed by a consul’s voluntary death. They then agreed together that on whichever flank the Roman army started to give way, the consul in command there should sacrifice himself…” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.6). It is this scene, of Publius Decius Mus bringing his officers into the loop, that Peter Paul Rubens re-creates in paint.

Unfortunately for Publius Decius Mus, when a battle ensued against the Latin coalition, it was his own wing of the Roman army that began to lose ground. Acknowledging defeat in the competition with his fellow consul, Decius allegedly slipped away from the frontline and found a nearby priest to conduct an impromptu ceremony to devote himself to the gods. This ritual, performed as the battle raged, allegedly required that Decius dress in a purple toga, stand on a spear, and recite a long speech about offering himself to the gods on behalf of Rome. With that, the preparations were done and the sacrifice could reach its conclusion. Publius Decius Mus, however, would not end his life like a sacrificial animal. Instead, he met his end, weapon in hand, by charging into battle, where he fought to the death against the Latins. After Decius’ sacrifice, the surviving consul Titus Manlius Torquatus was able to swoop in and steer the battle safely to a Roman victory.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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The Legend Of The Spirit Animal Brawl Between Dufthak And Storolf

Around the 9th or 10th century, two peculiar and mysterious individuals lived adjacent to each other in southern Iceland, specifically in the region above the Vestmannaeyjar archipelago. The names of this odd pair were Storolf and Dufthak. They had quite the different backstories, but they acquired very similar reputations. Storolf was born in Iceland, growing up on the estate of his prominent father, Ketil Trout, who came to the island from Norway during the reign of the Norwegian king, Harald Finehair (r. 860-940). When Storolf grew to adulthood, he settled down at a place called Hvoll. As for Dufthak, who lived just south of Hvoll at a place called Dufthaksholt, he was said to have been a former slave or prisoner who was accepted into the Icelandic community. He reportedly hailed from somewhere in the British Isles, but no specific location of origin was known. After arriving in Iceland and obtaining autonomy, Dufthak negotiated with Ketil Trout to gain possession of the land that would become his home. Dufthak and Ketil Trout evidently had a cordial relationship as neighbors, but the relationship was more complex when it came to the interactions between Dufthak and Ketil’s son, Storolf.

Despite their differences in upbringing and personal history, Dufthak and Storolf actually were said to have had a lot in common in terms of their character and personality. From the perspective of their Icelandic neighbors, the two were both highly spiritual—to the point that there was gossip that both men possessed knowledge of advanced forms of magic and sorcery. Due to their reputation of dabbling in eccentric occult practices, the two were similarly viewed by the community as suspicious and dangerous individuals. While Storolf and Dufthak could have become great friends, growing closer through their shared interest in magic and the supernatural realm, they instead began to quarrel over grazing rights. The Icelandic community (or, at least, its gossips) watched the dispute between the two sorcerous individuals with great interest, perhaps hoping for a magical showdown to occur. Curiously, it was another supernaturally-inclined figure who apparently led the rumor mills, because the lead source of the gossip was a person who claimed to have superhuman eyes that let him or her see the magic and magical beings that Storolf and Dufthak were supposedly capable of unleashing. The odd tale of the two alleged sorcerers and their special-sighted witness was recorded in the Icelandic Book of Settlements, which stated:

“One evening, about sunset, someone with second sight noticed a huge bear set out from Hvoll, and a bull from Dufthaksholt. They met at Storolfsvoll and set upon one another in a fury, the bear getting the best of it. In the morning, people saw there was a hollow where they had met, and it was just as if the earth had been turned upside down. Nowadays the place is called Oldugrof. Both men were badly hurt” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 350).

If the legend was built around gems of truth, perhaps some sort of geologic event occurred at Oldugrof, and maybe Storolf and Dufthak were both injured or sick around the time that it occurred. Whatever the case, the gossips—led by their leader with second sight—did not believe in coincidences, and instead a story was proposed that claimed the earthen hollow, along with the ailments of Storolf and Dufthak, were all caused by an epic nighttime duel between conjured spirit animals. If the two men survived their mysterious maladies, they likely discovered that their reputations as suspected sorcerers had greatly grown while they were bedridden.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Illustrasjon til “Olav den Helliges Saga”, artwork by Erik Werenskiold (c. 1855–1938), [Public Domain / no restrictions] 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.

The Three Fates, by Susan MacDowell Eakins (c. 1851 – 1938)

This intriguing painting, created by the American artist Susan MacDowell Eakins (c. 1851-1938), was inspired by the Fates (or Moirai) of Greek mythology. Named Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, the Fates were an enigmatic trio of goddesses who oversaw births, deaths, and the string of destiny that links the two events together. Ancient Greek sources had little consensus on the origins of these goddesses, and similar complex impasses were reached in discussions about the mind-boggling power dynamics that occurred whenever the Fates encountered other gods and goddesses. As for the original parentage question, many names were proposed as the possible progenitor of the Fates. Some claimed they were spawned by primordial Chaos; others proposed they were daughters of Night; Necessity was also an offered name, and the goddess, Earth, was mentioned as a possible parent, as was the great god Zeus. In regard to hierarchy between the Fates and the gods, the situation is the same. Many poets and scholars claimed they were led in some way by the high-god, Zeus, but this theological opinion was countered by a rival faction of writers who declared that Zeus and all the gods were solidly bound to the decrees of the Fates. It mattered little to Zeus, for regardless of if he was the father or the leader of the Fates, he found them to be staunch supporters and active allies of his reign in Olympus. While no quotes from the texts of the ancients seem a perfect match for Susan MacDowell Eakins’ painting, this passage from Plato’s Republic comes close:

“Three other women were also sitting on thrones which were evenly spaced around the spindle. They were the Fates, the daughters of Necessity, robed in white, with garlands on their heads; they were Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropos, accompanying the Sirens’ song, with Lachesis singing of the past, Clotho of the present, and Atropos of the future. Clotho periodically laid her right hand on the outer circle of the spindle and helped to turn it; Atropos did the same with her left hand to the inner circles, and Lachesis alternately helped the outer circle and the inner circles on their way with one hand after the other” (Plato, The Republic, 617c).

Susan MacDowell Eakins paints a similar scene in her artwork. It shows the three Fates, Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, sitting side-by-side and interacting with each other. Their fateful spinning wheel, for now, sits off to the side of the sisters as they enjoy a break from their destined work.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

  • Republic by Plato, translated by Robin Waterfield. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 1994, 2008.
  • Apollodorus, The Library of Greek Mythology, translated by Robin Hard. New York, Oxford University Press, 1997.
  • Theogony and Works and Days by Hesiod, translated by M. L. West. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988, 1999, 2008.
  • https://www.theoi.com/Daimon/Moirai.html
  • https://collections.dma.org/artwork/4174628

Euripides

Euripides (c. 485-406 BCE)

“There’s no trusting the tongue. It can give counsel to other people’s thoughts, but when it speaks for itself, it brings abundant trouble upon us.”

  • From Euripides’ Hippolytus (approximately between lines 390-400), translated by James Morwood in Medea and Other Plays (Oxford University Press, 1997, 1998, 2008).

Rome’s Destruction Of Velitrae After the Latin Wars

After the Romans suffered the humiliation of the Gallic Sack of Rome (dated between 390-386 BCE), the Roman Republic’s growing influence over the Italian city-states faced an increasing wave of challenge from the Latin League. Emboldened by the Gallic blip in Rome’s early history, the Latin League pulled away from the Romans and aligned itself with its former enemies, the Volscians, and also courted the aid of disgruntled Roman colonies. Velitrae was one such colonial city that had ties to Rome, but it reportedly joined the anti-Roman coalition as early as around 385 BCE. Velitrae’s new stance came at a cost, however, as its territory became a frequent battleground when Rome and its resistors clashed over the next decades. The city of Velitrae, itself, did not go unscathed during the many years it participated in the jostling over land and power in ancient Italy—Rome occupied the city in 380 BCE, and again in 368 BCE. These early brushes with the Roman military, however, did not stop Velitrae from continuing to side with Rome’s enemies. By around 358 BCE, the rebellious city was once more in a state of armed hostility against the Romans, going so far as to launch raids against Rome’s territory. Less than two decades later, Velitrae became a major player in the final phase of the Roman-Latin conflict, greatly involving itself in the so-called Latin Wars that erupted between 341-388 BCE.

Unfortunately for Velitrae, it chose the wrong side in the conflict. Rome, led by the consuls Titus Manlius Imperiosus Torquatus and Publius Decius Mus, reportedly defeated the Latin League in two pitched battles during the year 340 BCE. After a brief pause, Rome renewed its military campaigns with a vengeance again in 339 and 338 BCE, in which the Latin League and its allies were dealt a total defeat. As told by Roman tradition, Rome’s consuls for 338 BCE (Lucius Furius Camillus and Gaius Maenius) were able to quickly hunt down and ambush the smaller warbands of the individual cities in the Latin League, destroying or disrupting the separate contingents before the troops of the anti-Roman cities could ever gather into a formidable coalition army. These Roman successes, compounded with Rome’s earlier victories two years prior, evidently left the Latin League and its allies with a depopulated and debilitated military. Before the year 338 BCE was over, the Roman military was able to sweep through the region, forcing all of its adversaries in the Latin Wars to submit to Rome’s judgment.

Unfortunate Velitrae was among the cities that Rome occupied as a result of the war. With the troublesome city at their mercy, the Romans decided to rid themselves of their Velitrae problem once and for all, sentencing the city to some of the harshest treatment meted out in the post-war process. The ancient Roman historian, Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE), described the fate of Velitrae:

“The Veliterni, Roman citizens of long standing, were savagely penalized for having rebelled so many times: their walls were pulled down, their senate deported, and its members ordered to live on the far side of the Tiber on the understanding that if one of them were caught on the near side, his ransom should be no less than a thousand pounds of bronze and his captor should not release him from bondage until the money was paid. Colonists were sent to occupy the senators’ land, and when they were enrolled Velitrae recovered its previous appearance of having a large population” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.14).

Such was the fate of Velitrae. Its walls were demolished; its government was dissolved; its leaders were quarantined; and its remaining population was counterbalanced with a large injection of Roman colonists. After these measures were imposed, Velitrae ceased to pose a threat to the Roman Republic.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Cropped section of a Roman assault, drawn by Giovanni Guerra (c. 1542 – 1618), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Statens Museum for Kunst).

 

Sources:

  • The History of Rome (Rome and Italy) by Livy, translated by Betty Radice. New York: Penguin Classics, 1982.
  • The Beginnings of Rome by T. J. Cornell. New York: Routledge, 1995.

Balder’s Death, Painted by Peter Cramer (c. 1726 – 1782)

This painting, by the Danish artist Peter Cramer (c. 1726 – 1782), re-creates the dramatic death-scene of the Norse god, Balder (also spelled Baldur or Baldr). Ironically, it was Balder’s near-invincible nature that put him in peril. As the story goes, Baldr’s mother, Frigg, obtained promises from fire, water, metals, stones, plant life, animal wildlife, poisons and even diseases and viruses, all swearing that they would not harm her son. When all of the oaths were collected, Baldr was so invulnerable that the mighty gods amused themselves by punching, throwing stones, shooting arrows, even striking or stabbing at Baldr, all to no effect. Baldr’s newfound defensive prowess was lauded and praised by the gods—well, all except one. Loki, the usual delinquent deity of Norse mythology, loathed Baldr’s invulnerability. Therefore, Loki began to investigate, hoping that, like Achilles, a vulnerable chink could be found in Baldr’s supernatural armor. During his investigation, Loki relied on his expertise in shape shifting. He transformed himself into a woman and then struck up a conversation with Frigg. Unfortunately for Balder, Frigg was too trusting during her conversation with the disguised stranger, resulting in Loki learning that there was still one plant that could cause harm to Balder—mistletoe.

After discovering the secret, Loki set off in search of the deadly plant. He successfully found a twig of mistletoe that could pass off for a projectile, and with this in hand, he returned to the homeland of the gods, where the deities were still amusing themselves by launching blows against Balder. Mischievous (or in this case, murderous) Loki now sauntered over to a blind god named Hod and encouraged him to join the fun of attacking Balder’s near-invulnerable skin. Hod unfortunately agreed, and Loki eagerly put the stick of mistletoe in the blind god’s hands. The Icelandic writer, Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), described the dramatic scene:

“Hod took the mistletoe and, following Loki’s directions, shot at Baldr. The shot went right through Baldr, who fell to the ground dead. This misfortune was the worst that had been worked against the gods and men. Baldr’s death left the gods speechless and so weak that they were unable to muster the strength to lift him up in their arms” (Snorri Sturluson, The Prose Edda. Gylfaginning, section 49).

After Balder’s death, the gods sought out Hel, the goddess of the dead, and tried to negotiate for Balder’s return. She conceded that if everything in creation wept over Balder’s death, she would agree to let him go free. As the story goes, the gods nearly met Hel’s conditions, but, once again, Loki was there to interfere. Loki’s involvement in Balder’s death and imprisonment in the underworld enraged the rest of the Norse gods. In revenge, the deities captured, bound and left the nefarious trickster underneath a snake that continuously dripped venom down toward his face.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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The First Qin Emperor’s Diving Expedition To Recover The Lost Cauldrons Of Zhou

In the year 256 BCE, King Zhaoxiang of Qin absorbed the realm of Zhou and put an end to the prestigious Zhou Dynasty—a family that had allegedly held a loose and ever-weakening hegemony over the kingdoms of China for just a few centuries shy of a millennium. When the Qin Kingdom occupied the Zhou Dynasty’s land, it also got its hands on the fallen dynasty’s remaining wealth and treasures. Of the Zhou relics, the most coveted were the so-called Cauldrons of Zhou.

Despite the Zhou title of these cauldrons, the prized pots were said to have been created long before the time of the Zhou Dynasty. According to legend, the crafting of the relics was dubiously attributed to the legendary or mythical reign of the great flood-tamer, Emperor Yu (traditionally dated to the 21st century BCE or earlier). As told in the folklore and myth preserved by the ancient Chinese historian Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), the relics were made when “Emperor Yu collected metal from the nine ancient provinces and cast nine cauldrons. All of them used the cauldrons to boil offerings and present them to the Lord on High and the other spirits” (Sima Qian, Records of the Grand Historian, Shi Ji 28).

When King Zhaoxiang of Qin seized the Zhou treasures in 256 BCE, the inventory reportedly included objects alleged to be the fabled sacred relics from the myth-veiled reign of Emperor Yu. As told by Sima Qian, “the Zhou people fled to the east and their sacred vessels, including the nine cauldrons, passed into the hands of Qin” (Shi Ji 5). Evidently, something was suspicious about the items, and King Zhaoxiang doubted if they were the true and authentic Cauldrons of Zhou. In particular, the king came across a disturbing legend that claimed that the real cauldrons had been lost during the long history of the Zhou Dynasty. Once more we turn to Grand Historian Sima Qian, who recorded the tale that “when the virtue of the Zhou rulers declined…the cauldrons sank into the waters and disappeared from sight” (Shi Ji 28). As time went on, later rulers of the Qin Kingdom began to increasingly doubt the authenticity of the looted cauldrons, and instead thought that the real ones remained lost.

King Zhaoxiang’s great-grandson, Zheng, was particularly convinced that the real Cauldrons of Zhou were still hidden somewhere underwater. Yet, treasure hunts would have to wait, for Zheng became a busy man when he ascended to the throne of the Qin kingdom in 247 BCE. Launching relentless military campaigns and fortifying his authority with a harsh legalistic philosophy, King Zheng of Qin conquered all of his Chinese rivals by 221 BCE, allowing him to formally assume the title of First Emperor of Qin (Qin Shi Huang, or Shi Huangdi). After he became emperor and founded a new imperial dynasty, Qin Shi Huang curiously started to spend time traveling on tours around his realm and simultaneously began developing an interest in supernatural matters. His interest evolved into obsession, eventually ending in the emperor funding large expeditions that allegedly sent thousands of people off on odd quests, such as searching for immortals on magic islands in the ocean.

At the time when he was searching for the lairs of immortals, Qin Shi Huang remembered the dubious Cauldrons of Zhou that his family had obtained long ago. Since he was already planning expeditions in search of other hidden legends, the emperor naturally wasted no time pulling together a party of divers who were tasked with investigating if the real Cauldrons of Zhou were truly submerged somewhere underwater. Qin Shi Huang and his researchers concluded that the Si River was the likeliest bet for the treasures, so the emperor’s entourage and an army of swimmers marched in that direction. On the progress of this expedition, Grand Historian Sima Qian wrote, “The First Emperor returned by way of Pengcheng, where he fasted and purified himself and performed sacrifices, hoping to recover the cauldrons of Zhou from the Si River. He ordered 1,000 persons to dive into the water and search for them, but they could not find them” (Shi Ji 5). Qin Shi Huang eventually called off the search for the cauldrons, at least in that section of the river, but his interest in hunting down mysterious items, places and beings did not wane. The emperor died in 210 BCE, while still traveling around China in search of immortal entities and the enticing secrets they could share.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Scene from the landscapes of Shitao (Zhu Ruoji) (c. 1642–1707), leaf h, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET.jpg).

 

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Hercules and Omphale, painted by Pinturicchio (c. 1454–1513)

The Italian artist, Pinturicchio (c. 1454–1513), created this painted panel to adorn the palace of Pandolfo Petrucci, who held despotic power in Siena, Italy, at the beginning of the 16th century. Depicted in the artwork is the famous ancient hero, Hercules (or Heracles to Greek sources), seen wearing his trademark lion’s pelt. Across from him, the woman dressed in red and white is the character, Omphale, who was said to have been a queen of the ancient kingdom of Lydia in Anatolia.

According to myth, Hercules and Omphale had an incredibly awkward relationship. Their story followed the typical model of Herculean stories. Step one: Heracles is found in a situation where he causes death and destruction. Step two: Heracles seeks out prophecies or oracles about how to atone for his sins. Step three: Heracles overcomes trials and tribulations to expiate himself of his misdeeds and mistakes.

In the prelude to the tale of Heracles and Omphale, Heracles had wrongfully killed a man named Iphitus and, while consulting with the Oracle of Delphi about this killing, he worsened the situation by sacrilegiously trying to steal from the temple. After these antics, the angry gods and their messengers decided to inflict on Heracles a humbling punishment—for him to atone, the Greek hero would have to live for three years as a slave. Hermes, the messenger god, saw to the arrangements, eventually selling Heracles to Queen Omphale of Lydia. The proceeds of the sale were sent to the family of Iphitus, the man that Heracles had killed.

Despite the peaceful, pastoral scene shown in Pinturicchio’s painting, Omphale let Heracles do what he did best during his years of bondage in Lydia—the slaying of men and beasts. An ancient scholar known as Pseudo-Apollodorus (c. 1st and 2nd century) briefly summarized some of the myths linked to Heracles’ three captive years in Lydia, writing, “While serving Omphale as a slave, Heracles captured and bound the Cercopes at Ephesus, and at Aulis he killed Syleus—who compelled strangers to dig [in his vineyard]—and also his daughter, Xenodice, and burned his vines to their roots” (Apollodorus, Library, 2.6.3). Such were the quests that Heracles was undertaking in Lydia when he was not lounging with Queen Omphale in her pastures.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

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Socrates

Socrates (c. 469-399 BCE)

“A man who really fights for justice must lead a private, not a public, life if he is to survive for even a short time.”

  • This saying, attributed to Socrates, was recorded in Plato’s Apology (section 32a). The translation used here is by G. M. A. Grube, revised by John M. Cooper (Hackett Publishing, 2000).

The Looted Origin Of Ancient Rome’s Sacred Rostra

In the Forum of ancient Rome, there was a special platform that was used by Roman orators as the venue for important speeches. The platform in question reportedly received its name—The Rostra—in the aftermath of Rome’s wars with the Latin League and its allies in the 4th century BCE. Although the Roman-Latin conflict that century spanned decades, the greatest and most consequential clash between the two sides occurred between 341-338 BCE.

During those years, the Romans destroyed and dismantled the Latin League, winning two major battles in 340 BCE, and followed it up with an impressive divide-and-conquer campaign in 338 BCE that led to the Roman occupation of the Latin cities. Allies of the Latin League at that time faced the same fate, and this is an important point for the history of the Rostra. One such ally of the Latin League was the Volscian city of Antium—a long rival and enemy of the Romans. Like the Latin cities, Antium was defeated and occupied during the course of the 338 BCE campaign. With Antium at their mercy, the Romans decided to make sure that the Volscian city would never again pose a problem.

In order to defang and pacify Antium, the Romans sent a great number of colonists to counterbalance the Antiate population, but the preexisting Antiates were also granted Roman citizenship. Rome reportedly took the extra precaution, though, of barring the people of Antium from sailing into the sea, and they emphasized this decree by seizing the city’s entire fleet. On these commandeered warships and their relationship to the Rostra, the Roman historian, Livy (c. 59-17 CE), wrote, “Some of the ships from Antium were laid up in the dockyards at Rome, while the rest were burnt, and it was decided to use their prows or beaks to decorate a platform set up in the Forum; this sacred place was named the Rostra, or The Beaks” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.14). Such, then, is the traditional origin story for the Rostra, or at least its name. The title was derived from the bronze beaks, salvaged out of the seized fleet of Antium, that were used to adorn the platform in the Roman Forum.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Roman Man-of-War, 200 B.C., from the Military Series (N224) issued by Kinney Tobacco Company c. 1888 , [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

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