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Antium’s Stormy Return To Satricum In 341 BCE

By
thehistorianshut
-

Satricum, a city in ancient Italy, was the unfortunate target or site of many battles and military campaigns in the 4th century BCE. The region was coveted by Rome and the rival Volsci people (especially the Volscian city of Antium), and during their decades-long conflict, the envied Satricum region was violently captured and recaptured several times over. Between the years 386-377 BCE alone, the city had changed hands at least four times. A turning point occurred in 377 BCE, when Satricum (controlled by the Volscians at that time) was largely burned to the ground by an unidentified Latin army. The charred city was neglected for nearly three decades after the burning. Around 348 BCE, however, Antium committed its manpower and resources to rebuilding Satricum. Nevertheless, this prompted a Roman army to attack the refurbished city two years later, setting it once more ablaze in 346 BCE. After that, both sides left the largely abandoned site alone for a few years, but Antium’s people and other supportive Volsicans continued gazing on the coveted ground with an opportunistic eye.

To Antium’s interest, Rome became quite busy in the years following the second burning of Satricum. In 345 BCE, Rome waged campaigns against at least two foes, the Aurunci and the Volscian city of Sora. Yet, those conflicts did not provide much opportunity for Antium, since Rome won the two wars with ease. By 343 BCE, however, Rome found itself at war with a much more competent foe—the Samnites. The so-called First Samnite War (c. 343-341 BCE) began after the Samnites went to war with the Campanian League over the city of Sidicini. As the story goes, the Campanians did poorly in their war and ultimately had to surrender themselves to Rome for protection. Curiously, the Samnites at that time had been friends or allies of Rome, but once Campania became Roman territory, Rome broke off its friendly relationship with the Samnites and declared war. It was a rough war, with victories and defeats on both sides. Yet, for the Romans, the most dangerous situation during the first war did not involve the Samnites, but instead came from Rome’s own military. In 342 BCE, a revolt or mutiny broke out among the Roman troops stationed near Campania, and although the trouble was eventually resolved with legal and military change, the turmoil caused surrounding cities (including Antium) to think that Rome might be vulnerable.

In 341 BCE, just as Rome was beginning to sort out its military and political disputes, the Volscians began to act out, and inspired by the chaos, the city of Privernum also revolted against the Romans. It was at this time, while Rome was distracted by mutinies, wars and uprisings, that Antium decided to sneak some of its manpower once more over to Satricum. The Romans, however, did not overlook this maneuver.

During the course of 341 BCE, the Romans were militarily much better prepared than they were in the previous mutiny-plagued year. Rome’s re-disciplined armed forces quickly crushed the uprising in Privernum, and that victorious army, led by Consul Gaius Plautius, then marched on to the site of Satricum to confront the armed masses gathering there. Antium’s military and their Volscian allies, perhaps, were not expecting the Romans to arrive at Satricum so soon, but when the enemy army approached, the Antium-Volscian coalition whipped their forces into a battle formation. Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE), a Roman historian, recorded the story of what reportedly happened on that day of battle:

“The victorious army [of Romans from Privernum] was then taken on to Satricum to confront the Antiates. There the fighting was fierce, with heavy losses on both sides, and was interrupted by a storm before either army could realize its expectations…when the Volscians had counted up the men they had lost on the battlefield they were not at all eager to run into danger a second time, and marched off apprehensively to Antium during the night like defeated men, leaving their wounded and part of their baggage behind” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.1).

As the quote conveyed, a storm reportedly broke up the battle that occurred that day in 341 BCE at Satricum. Given this respite by nature, the people of Antium and their fellow allied Volscians second-guessed the wisdom of gambling precious manpower in a pitched battle against a formidable Roman army. Therefore, the Antium-Volscian coalition decided to retreat during the night rather than risk a decisive defeat the next morning. Regardless of the indecisive end to the battle, the Romans likely shed significant quantities of their foe’s blood, or perhaps they committed some guilty deed against the wounded who were left behind. Whatever the case, the Romans religiously gathered the loot from that battlefield as a burnt offering to the vengeful goddess, Lua Mater, whose ceremonies allowed the Romans to atone for the horrors of war.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (cropped section from The Death of Paulus Aemilius at the Battle of Cannae, painted by John Trumbull (c. 1756–1843), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Yale University Art Gallery).

 

Sources:

Nausicaa Brings The Shipwrecked Odysseus’ Clothes, painted by Wilhelm Marstrand (c. 1810 – 1873)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, by the Danish artist Wilhelm Marstrand (c. 1810 – 1873), depicts a scene from Homer’s epic poem, The Odyssey. In the events preceding this scene, Odysseus—the namesake of the poem—had been shipwrecked by angry Poseidon’s great storms. Fortunately, due to the protection of the sea-goddess Leucothoe, Odysseus managed to safely wash ashore upon a river-divided coastline in the land of the Phaeacians, a mythological or legendary people. Once he was on land, the protective baton was passed from Leucothoe to Athena, who ensured that the stranded hero would soon be introduced to new allies that would help him on his journey. As was divinely planned, help came in the form of Nausicaa, daughter of the local Phaeacian ruler. Odysseus, fortunately, had passed out in vegetation near the river that fed into the sea, and this river happened to be a favorite spot used by Nausicaa and her maids to clean laundry and bathe. 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).

Such is the scene that is taking place in Wilhelm Marstrand’s painting. It shows Odysseus, clothed only by a handful of strategically placed twigs, speaking with Nausicaa and her companions. Despite his awkward introduction, the shipwrecked hero succeeded in winning over Nausicaa to his cause. She, in turn, helped Odysseus gain an audience with her parents, King Alcinous and Queen Arete. 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:

Livy

By
thehistorianshut
-

Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE)

“Peace is the desire even of men well able to conquer; what then should our own desire be? Should we not forget hope and anger, those treacherous counsellors, and entrust ourselves and all our interests to the integrity we know?”

  • The History of Rome (book 7, chapter 40) by Livy, translated by Betty Radice. New York: Penguin Classics, 1982.

The Easter Revenge Of The Lombards Against The City Of Forlimpopoli

By
thehistorianshut
-

King Grimoald, who usurped power over the Lombards in 662, faced an early crisis when Emperor Constans II of Constantinople (r. 641-668) personally departed from Greece and moved to Italy in 663. While residing in Italy, the emperor had three main objectives—to build power in Sicily, to dominate the Roman popes, and to wage war against the Lombards, who had wrested much of Italy from Constantinople’s control during the last century. While King Grimoald did not care much about Sicily or the pope, he did take seriously the increased pressure that Emperor Constans was putting on the Lombard kingdom’s southern territories.

In particular, the Lombard dukedom of Benevento—ruled by Grimoald’s bastard son, Duke Romuald—was potentially in danger of being overrun by Emperor Constans’ armies. King Grimoald saved Benevento, however, by personally moving south with troops and supplies, driving off the imperial armies and allowing Duke Romuald and the Beneventines to instead go on the offensive. Yet, although most of the fighting at that time was occurring in southern Italy, the Empire of Constantinople still controlled land in northern Italy, too. Notably, the imperial stronghold of Ravenna was a major thorn in the side of the Lombard kingdom. But, curiously, another imperially-aligned city in the same northern area proved even more annoying than Ravenna for the Lombards while Grimoald and Emperor Constans II were at war. The name of this second city was Forlimpopoli.

Located just south of Ravenna, the city of Forlimpopoli curiously became aware of a path that Lombard messengers and couriers were using during the war between King Grimoald and Emperor Constans II. With this intelligence in their possession, Forlimpopoli decided to help the imperial cause by sabotaging and harassing the Lombard supply lines and communications network. King Grimoald took bitter notice of the city’s enthusiastic actions against the Lombards. According to the Lombard historian, Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799), Grimoald quickly filled with rage against this “Forum Populi (Forlimpopoli), a certain city of the Romans, whose citizens had inflicted certain injuries upon him when he was setting out for Beneventum and had often annoyed his couriers going from Beneventum and returning” (Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards, 5.27). To King Grimoald, such harassment could not go unanswered. And answer it he would.

Unfortunately for Forlimopopoli, the Lombard king already had an inflated hate of all things related to the Empire of Constantinople. This hatred formed in the king’s youth, when imperial officials reportedly assassinated two of his brothers. Therefore, when King Grimoald was masterminding his revenge, his plans did not include mercy. To have his vengeance, the Lombard king also allegedly did not mind a little sacrilege, for he scheduled his military operation to occur on the Easter holiday. An account of what reportedly happened next was recorded by the aforementioned historian, Paul the Deacon:

“[W]ithout any knowledge of the Romans, he rushed unexpectedly upon that city on the holy day Sabbath of Easter itself in the hour when the baptism was occurring and made so great a carnage of men slain that he killed in the sacred font itself even those deacons who were baptizing little infants. And so he overthrew that city and very few inhabitants remain in it up to the present time” (Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards, 5.27).

Such was the fate that the city of Forlimpopoli reportedly experienced after stoking the wrath of King Grimoald. In the same state of mind, the king also personally was said to have eradicated the Constantinople-aligned city of Opitergium or Oderzo. Unlike at Forlimpopoli, Grimoald resettled the second destroyed city with Lombards.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Siege of Jerusalem from BL Royal 20 C IV, f. 263v, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons, Europeana, and The British Library).

 

Sources:

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

The Death Of Lucius Aemilius Paullus At The Battle Of Cannae, Painted By John Trumbull (c. 1756–1843)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, by the American artist John Trumbull (c. 1756–1843), was inspired by the famous Battle of Cannae, fought in 216 BCE during the opening years of the Second Punic War (c. 218-201 BCE) between the rival ancient superpowers of Rome and Carthage. In the inaugural year of the war, Carthage’s great military leader, Hannibal Barca, crossed the Alps into Italy, after facing harassment from Pyrenean, Gallic, and Alpine peoples, not to mention further punishment from the weather. Despite suffering losses on his mountainous march, Hannibal’s army remained strong enough to repeatedly defeat challenges from the Roman military in 218 and 217 BCE. In 216 BCE, while Hannibal was threatening strategic local water and food supplies at Cannae, the Romans decided to make a bold gamble by dispatching Rome’s two consuls, Lucius Aemilius Paullus and Gaius Terentius Varro, with a huge army that was nearly double the size of Hannibal’s own force. Nevertheless, people who gamble big are vulnerable to huge losses.

The Battle of Cannae, it can be said, was Hannibal’s masterpiece of troop and terrain management. Virtually nothing was left unchecked in Hannibal’s masterminding of advantages for his outnumbered force. He controlled the region’s water and food supplies; the dusty winds harmlessly hit his army’s back, whereas they irritated the eyes of the Romans; and he forced the battle to occur along a valley and river that made it awkward for the Romans to comfortably deploy their massive army. These were some of the terrain advantages that empowered the Carthaginian army. Yet, Hannibal’s managing and maneuvering of his troops during the battle were what really cemented the fame of Cannae. When the battle commenced, Hannibal’s smaller army pulled off an impressive maneuver known as a double envelopment. Simply put, Hannibal lured the Romans deep into a crescent-shaped formation, and before the Romans realized that they were beginning to be dangerously outflanked by the edges of the Carthaginian crescent, Hannibal sent his cavalry to attack the Romans from behind, completing the encirclement of the Roman army. A massacre ensued, and according to the ancient sources, between 55,000 and 70,000 Romans died on that battlefield, including the consul Lucius Aemilius Paullus. The Roman historian, Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE), recorded an account of how Paullus was said to have died:

“The whole force was now broken and dispersed. Those who could, recovered their horses, hoping to escape. Lentulus, the military tribune, as he rode by saw the consul Paullus sitting on a stone and bleeding profusely…The two men were still speaking when a crowd of fugitives swept by. The Numidians were close on their heels. Paullus fell under a shower of spears, his killers not even knowing whom they killed” (Livy, History of Rome, 22.49)

It is this scene of the defeated consul, Lucius Aemilius Paullus, sitting helplessly on a rock as the circle of Carthaginians tightens its stranglehold on the Roman army, that the artist, John Trumbull, paints in the artwork above. As the quote conveyed, Paullus would be killed before the day was over, along with the vast majority of the Roman army that had been deployed for battle. The other Roman consul, Gaius Terentius Varro, was able to escape the slaughter and returned safely to Rome with other survivors.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

Lua Mater—Goddess Of Blood, Loot And Fire

By
thehistorianshut
-

Lua Mater, or Mother Lua, was a mysterious ancient Italian goddess who provided a paradoxical spiritual service for the ancient Romans. On the one hand, Lua offered the Romans a way to atone for the bloodshed and cruelty of war through ceremonies that were carried out in her honor. Yet, on the other hand, Lua also had a reputation of being a potentially destructive and dangerous war goddess who needed to be kept happy. Thankfully for the Romans, a single ritual could be performed that fulfilled both of these required actions of appeasement and atonement. This ceremony entailed the sacrificial burning of loot that had been plundered from enemies of Rome.

Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE), a historian from ancient Rome, recorded two descriptions of how the ancient Romans might have performed their burnt offering rituals for Lua. The first that he described was an impromptu ceremony organized after the Romans defeated an army from Antium around 341 BCE. As told by Livy, “A great quantity of arms was found, not only amongst the enemy’s dead but also in their camp. The consul announced that he was dedicating these to Mother Lua, and proceeded to lay waste to the enemy’s territory as far as the sea coast” (Livy, Roman History, Book 8, section 1). Shifting tens of books ahead, and therefore skipping centuries into the future in Livy’s narrative, another offering to Lua was described that took place around 167 BCE. This time, it was a much more formal ceremony, and other war-associated deities were included in the festivities. Livy wrote, “After the festival had been held and the bronze shields loaded into ships, the rest of the arms of all kinds were piled up into a great heap, and the general, after prayer to Mars, Minerva, Mother Lua, and the other gods to whom it is right and lawful to dedicate the spoils of the enemy, with his own hands put the torch to the pile; then each of the military tribunes as they stood round about tossed in [more] fire” (Livy, Roman History, 45.33). Through ceremonies such as these, the Romans could both placate the goddess and expiate themselves from the spiritual and psychological burdens of bloodshed.

Unfortunately, any further details about the goddess, herself, are few and far between. These quotes from Livy, describing the war-themed offerings burned in her honor, are the bulk of what is known about her personalized responsibilities as a goddess. Besides her individualized connection to destruction, war and atonement, Mother Lua is best known for being the consort of the Roman god, Saturn.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Minerva in a Chariot, by Abbott Handerson Thayer (1849-1921), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Smithsonian Institute).

 

Sources:

Penelope Unraveling Her Web, by Joseph Wright of Derby (c. 1734 – 1797)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, by the English artist Joseph Wright (c. 1734 – 1797), was inspired by a scene from The Odyssey, an ancient Greek epic poem written by Homer (c. 8th century BCE). In the artwork, Joseph Wright features two of the poetic tale’s key characters, Penelope and Telemachus, the wife and child of Odysseus—the man that the Odyssey was named after. Clever and cunning Odysseus had left his homeland of Ithaca to participate in the Trojan War, where his keen intellect played a significant role in the eventual Greek triumph over the Trojans. Unfortunately for Penelope and Telemachus, Odysseus’ stint in the Trojan War lasted for ten years, and his monster-fraught journey home took just as long. To Penelope’s credit, she never ceased in her hope and belief that Odysseus would one day return, even as her agonizing wait reached its twentieth year. Others in Greece, however, were not so sure that Odysseus would ever come home. Therefore, opportunistic gentlemen callers began to crowd into Penelope’s estate, hoping to win her hand in marriage (along with her wealth and land). Penelope, nevertheless, always managed to find a way to fend these men off, including in the way shown above in Joseph Wright’ painting.

As the story goes, Penelope’s father-in-law, Laertes, was growing quite old while the family was still awaiting Odysseus’ return, and people feared that Laertes was nearing death’s door. Penelope used the morbid prospect of his potential death as an opportunity to delay the marriage proposals of the suitors, claiming that she was duty-bound to weave a burial shroud for Laertes, and that she could not begin to humor the idea of a new marriage until she finished her father-in-law’s shroud. The suitors agreed to her demand, but they soon became wrestless and suspicious as Penelope’s weaving dragged on for years. Homer, narrating from the viewpoint of the suitors, described this clever episode, writing, “On her loom in her house she set up a great web and began weaving a large and delicate piece of work…So by day she used to weave at the great web, but every night had torches set beside it and undid the work. For three years she took us in by this trick” (The Odyssey, Book 2, approximately lines 90-110). Such is the scene that is unraveling (pardon the pun) in the painting above.

Unfortunately for Penelope, one of her servants betrayed the secret of the shroud to the suitors, who then forced the outed woman to complete the sabotaged garment. Yet, just as the suitors were beginning to gain an advantage in their struggle to force Penelope to choose a new husband, Odysseus finally returned to Ithaca. Odysseus, understandably, did not take kindly to the vultures he found circling his family and home. In the end, Odysseus massacred all of the suitors who had been pestering Penelope for so long.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

Machiavelli

By
thehistorianshut
-

Machiavelli (c. 1469-1527)

“The chief foundations of all states, whether new, old, or mixed, are good laws and good arms.”

  • From The Prince (chapter 12) by Machiavelli, translated and printed by the Henry Regnery Company, 1948.

The Migration Of Thorhadd The Old’s Temple To Iceland

By
thehistorianshut
-

A man known as Thorhadd the Old reportedly was the priest and owner of a temple in the Møre (or Moere) and Trondheim area of Norway, which was a sacred region for the traditional Norse religion. Thorhadd was a contemporary of King Harald Finehair of Norway (ruled approximately 860-940), whose reign coexisted with the so-called Age of Settlement period in Iceland (c. 860-930). Many Norwegians were, at that time, sailing to Iceland to start new lives on the island, and Thorhadd, too, was infected by the frenzy to claim new land. He joined the proverbial bandwagon (or ship), as it were, and began readying himself for a journey overseas to Iceland. Thorhadd, however, did not want to leave his temple and his religious duties behind. He nevertheless worked out a fix for his problem, and, as the legend goes, this solution was to bring his temple with him to Iceland.

Driven by his desire to travel, Thorhadd began carefully deconstructing his temple and preserving its pillars with as little damage as possible. He also scooped up some earth from the grounds of the temple, packaging the soil for sea travel. With his sacred lumber, earth and other supplies packed, the old priest was ready for his voyage. These details and more were preserved in the medieval Icelandic Books of Settlements (Landnámabók), which stated “Thorhadd the Old was a temple priest at Moere in Trondheim. He had a great desire to go to Iceland, but before he set off, he dismantled the temple and took the pillars and some earth from under the temple with him” (Landnámabók, Stulubók manuscript, chapter 297). After setting sail with his mobile temple and blessed earth, Thorhadd successfully crossed to the eastern coast of Iceland and disembarked near the Stöðvarfjörður region. There, Thorhadd the Old reportedly reassembled his temple and proclaimed that the nearby fjords were sacred land.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (cropped and modified section of The Reconciliation (from Frithiof’s saga), by August Malmström (c. 1829-1901), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the National Museum in Stockholm Sweden).

 

 

Sources:

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

King Midas Turns An Oak Branch To Gold, Painted By Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, by the French artist Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665), was inspired by the most famous ancient myth about King Midas of Phrygia. In the events preceding this scene, Midas or his people had come across a lost and drunk satyr named Silenus, who was searching for his companions. Met with this satyr in need, King Midas decided to help Silenus find his way back to his people. Midas succeeded in his quest, and found that Silenus’ friends were quite a peculiar bunch—it was the god, Dionysus (or Bacchus), and his festive entourage.

When Midas strolled with the misplaced satyr into the presence of Dionysus, the god was happy to see his friend returned. In gratitude, Dionysus decided to grant Midas a wish, and the chosen gift could even be the bequeathment of a supernatural power. Midas gleefully accepted the offer and asked for an ability that let him turn anything he touched into gold. Dionysus granted his wish, and King Midas walked away from the meeting imbued with the newfound power that he had wished for. Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE), a Roman poet, narrated what happened next:

“Midas departed in high delight with his bane of a present,
and put the gift to the test at once by touching some objects.
Passing an oak with low green boughs, he uncertainly pulled
at a leafy twig; the twig and its foliage turned to gold.
He lifted a stone from the ground; that also became pure gold.
He touched a clod; the power in his fingers converted the soft earth
into a hard nugget. Plucking the ears in a ripe cornfield,
he reaped a harvest of gold. He picked an apple and held it—
a present from the Hesperides’ garden? He rested his hands
on the doors of his lofty palace: the doors appeared to be glowing.”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, 11.106-115)

Nicolas Poussin depicts the first of Midas’ golden test runs in the painting. Following Ovid’s account, Midas can be seen holding a branch pulled from the oak tree, albeit he does so curiously in front of an audience of scantily-clad figures. After the scene at the tree, and once Midas returned to his palace, he soon found his new powers to be more of a curse than a gift. Food and drink turned to gold at his touch, and he could not avoid transforming these vital forms of sustenance by using utensils, for even if morsels or liquid entered his mouth unchanged, they would turn to gold as soon as they touched a side of his throat. He ultimately begged Dionysus to take back the gift, and, to the god’s credit, Dionysus did remove Midas’ powers before the king died of malnutrition or thirst.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

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