Home Blog Page 98

The Unflattering Aging Of The Graiai Over Centuries

By
thehistorianshut
-

As told in the tales of ancient Greek mythology, there was a unique group of divine sisters known as the Graiai who were included among the ranks of the gods. These Graiai were daughters of the sea-god, Phorcys, and they inherited his water divinity classification. The collective name of Graiai connotated shades of grey and white, and association with those colors narrowed their watery jurisdiction to seafoam. Yet, from their connection to grey, they also took on qualities of age, experience and knowledge. Keeping with their theme, the Graiai all were born with silvery hair, and due to this attribute, they came to be called the Old Women. The poet Hesiod (c. 8th century), our most ancient known source on the Graiai, claimed that all that was “Old”, per se, about the Old Women was their hair. Hesiod wrote, “with fair faces and gray [hair] from birth…these the gods who are immortal and men who walk on the earth call Graiai, the gray sisters, Pemphredo robed in beauty and Enyo robed in saffron” (Hesiod, Theogony 270 ff, trans. Evelyn-White)). Unfortunately, the writers who succeeded Hesiod would be far less kind in their descriptions of the Graiai.

By the time of the Eleusinian playwright, Aeschylus (c. 525-456 BCE), and the Lyric poet, Pindar (c. 518-446+ BCE), the reputation and community image of the Graiai had taken a noticeable dive. They were starting to take on the sinister aura of their aquatic clan of supernatural creatures, which had many monsters in the family tree, including Scylla and the Gorgons. Through the latter of these kinswomen, the Graiai became linked into the myth of the hero, Perseus, who slew the mortal Gorgon, Medusa. As the myth of Perseus was told and retold, references to the Graiai became more and more unflattering. Pindar might have made the earliest written reference to the Graiai being blinded by Perseus, writing, “He had made blind the grim offspring of Phorcys” (Pindar, Pythian Ode 12. 14). Aeschylus, however, went further in depicting the total reshaping of the Graiai image. He expanded them to be three in number and introduced the idea that they were largely eyeless and toothless. Additionally, in the playwright’s depiction of the Graiai, their age was not restrained to their hair, but to their bodies too. Instead, in their reimagined form, the Graiai’s only beauty came from their bodies being oddly fused with the shapes of swans. Aeschylus wrote, “[the Graiai are] ancient maids, three in number, shaped like swans, possessing one eye amongst them and a single tooth; neither does the sun with his beams look down upon them, nor ever the nightly moon” (Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound 788 ff (trans. Weir Smyth)).

Centuries later, in the time of the scholar, Pseudo-Apollodorus (c. 1st and 2nd century CE), the Graiai’s swan shapes had been erased and all that was left of their image was their designation as largely eyeless and toothless elderly women. Apollodorus did, however, record a new name for one of the Graiai. He wrote, “Enyo, Pemphredo, and Deino. Daughters of Phorcos [aka Phorcys] by Ceto, they were the sisters of the Gorgons, and had been old women from the time of their birth. The three of them had only a single eye and a single tooth, which they exchanged in turn between themselves” (Apollodorus, Library, 2.4.2). Besides Deino, the name Persis also came to be associated with the Graiai troupe. Curiously, in contrast to the increasingly frail and wizened bodies that these names were attached to, the meanings of the Graiai members’ personal names were anything but weak. Enyo’s name harkened to war, while Persis alluded to destruction and Deino reflected terror. Only the Graiai goddess, Pemphredo, had a peaceful-sounding name, with a meaning that loosely translated to “She Who Shows the Way.” Nevertheless, despite their empowering names and sea goddess natures, the Graiai were unfortunately stereotyped as the old crones of Greek mythology that had to share an eye and a tooth.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Cropped Perseus and the Graiai, by Walter Crane (English, 1845 – 1915), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and Artvee.jpg).

 

Sources:

Calliope, Muse of Epic Poetry, Painted By Charles Meynier (c. 1768-1832)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, by the French artist Charles Meynier (c. 1768-1832), was inspired by the ancient Greek goddess, Calliope, whose name loosely translates to Beautiful-Voiced. As the title of the artwork divulges, Calliope was one of the Muses, and her usual spiritual jurisdiction was over epic poetry. As the story goes, the Muses were the daughters of the high-god, Zeus, and the goddess, Mnemosyne (Memory). In terms of hierarchy among the sisters, the ancient Greek poet, Hesiod (c. 8th century BCE), claimed that Calliope was “chief among them all” (Hesiod, Theogony, approximately line 75). A later poet, the Roman writer Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE), imagined Calliope playing music and reciting one of her epic tales with the following words:

“Calliope. She, with her flowing hair in ivy wreath,
rose up and strummed a few plangent chords to test her lyre strings,
then firmly plucked them to launch at once on the following lay.”
(Ovid, Metamorphoses, 5.335-340)

Charles Meynier, in his painting of Calliope, agreed with Ovid that a wreath headpiece should be included in the poet-Muse’s wardrobe. Yet, Meynier and Ovid diverged on the Muse’s choice of musical instrument. Whereas Ovid and other ancient sources often described Calliope having a lyre, Charles Meynier’s painting of Calliope features a horn.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

The Tale Of The Frankish Heist For Saint Benedict’s Remains

By
thehistorianshut
-

In the middle of the 7th century, a plot was hatched by Frankish religious figures that would ignite a rivalry lasting well over a thousand years (and counting). This story centers around the body of Saint Benedict—developer of the Benedictine Rule and founder of the Monte Cassino (or Montecassino) abbey—who died around the year 547. About twenty years following Benedict’s death, the Italian political landscape was greatly changed by the arrival of the Lombards, who invaded Italy in 568 and seized a large portion of the Italian peninsula from the Empire of Constantinople. During, or just before, the reign of the Lombard King Authari (r. 584-590), Monte Cassino was attacked by Lombards. The common date given for the assault is 589. On this attack, Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799), a clergyman who lived at the restored Monte Cassino, wrote, “the monastery of the blessed father Benedict which was situated in the stronghold of Casinum (Monte Cassino) was attacked by the Langobards [aka Lombards], and although they plundered everything, they could not get hold of one of the monks” (Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards, IV.17). Although the monks were allegedly unharmed, the sacking of the monastery evidently put the site temporarily out of use. By the time Paul the Deacon was flourishing in the 8th century, Monte Cassino was once again an active monastic site, but during the preceding period of abandonment, a controversial incident occurred.

During the 7th century, Frankish religious figures learned that the site of Monte Cassino was in disrepair, and they took the opportunity to plot some holy tomb robbing. A curious pro-Frankish account was discovered by the French Benedictine monk, Jean Mabillon (c. 1632-1707), who unearthed a manuscript that was allegedly contemporaneous with Paul the Deacon’s lifetime or older. The manuscript read:

“[A] learned Priest who set about to journey towards Italy, that he might discover where were the bones of our father St Benedict, no longer worshipped by men. At length he came into a desert country some 70 or 80 miles from Rome, where St Benedict of old had built a cell whose indwellers had been bound together in perfect charity. Yet, even then, this Priest and his companions were disquieted by-the uncertainties of the place, since they could find neither vestiges of the monastery nor any burial-place, until at last a swineherd showed them, or hire, exactly where the monastery had stood… Then, searching the spot with greater diligence, they found a marble slab which they had to cut through. At last, having broken through the slab, they found the bones of St Benedict, and his sister’s bones beneath, with another marble slab between; since (as we believe) the almighty and merciful God would that those should be united in their sepulcher who, in life, had been joined together in brotherly and sisterly love, and in Christian charity. Having collected and washed these bones they laid them upon fine clean linen, each by itself, to be carried home to their own country. They gave no sign to the Romans lest, if these had learnt the truth, they would doubtless never have suffered such holy relics to be withdrawn from their country without conflict…” (Mabillon, Vetera Analecta, vol. IV, 1685, pp.451-453).

Whatever the Franks dug up that day was brought back to France and was eventually enshrined at the Benedictine Abbey of Fleury at Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire. Although, as Mabillon’s manuscript relayed, the Franks were secretive about their expedition to obtain Saint Benedict’s remains, the Italians did indeed find out. The aforementioned Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799) wrote an accusatory account of the incident in his history; and, for context, it should be remembered that he lived and wrote at Monte Cassino. On the Frankish expedition to find Benedictine relics, Paul the Deacon’s account stated:

“[W]hile they pretended to keep a vigil by the venerable body they bore away the bones of the reverend father and also of the reverend Scolastica his sister, and carried them to their own country…But it is certain that the venerable mouth, sweeter than all nectar, and the eyes beholding ever heavenly things, and the other members too have remained to us, although decayed” (Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards, VI.2).

As a result of this medieval incident, reportedly dated to the year 672, two monasteries now claim to have the remains of Saint Benedict. The Abbey of Fleury in Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire maintains that the abandoned remains of Saint Benedict were successfully transported to their cloister. Monte Cassino, however, since the time of Paul the Deacon, has counter-claimed that most, if not all, of Saint Benedict’s remains never left Italy. As told by Monte Cassino’s spokespeople, the remains of Benedict and Scholastica were held in an alabaster urn, which was protected by a lead container. On these remains, Monte Cassino’s official website states, “experts conducted a thoroughly documented study at Montecassino and agreed on the authenticity of the remains, reaffirming like others have in the past, that they indeed belong to St. Benedict and his sister St. Scholastica” (www.abbaziamontecassino.org). As with most religious questions, it could be said that the decision of which religious institution holds the right set of 6th-century Italian bones is a matter of faith.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Cropped scene of The Translation of Josaphat’s Relics to a Church By a King and Procession, by the workshop of Diebold Lauber (c. 1427 – 1467), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Getty Museum).

 

Sources:

The Rape of the Sabine Women, by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (c. 1696-1770)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, by the Italian artist Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (c. 1696-1770), was inspired by an uncomfortable legend from the history of ancient Rome. The painting, and the folkloric tale that influenced it, share the same unpleasant title—The Rape of the Sabine Women. This infamous incident, so the myths and legends of ancient Rome claim, occurred during the reign of Rome’s founder, Romulus, whose mythical reign was traditionally dated to about 753-717 BCE. According to the Roman historian, Livy (59 BCE-17 CE), Romulus recognized that primitive Rome’s greatest existential threat was that “There were not enough women,” and that without boosting the female population of the fledgling city-state, Roman “greatness seemed likely to last only for a single generation” (Livy, Roman History, 1.9). In true ancient tribal warfare fashion, Romulus decided that the best way for Rome to increase its female population was to capture women from nearby rival cities—notably the Sabine settlements. Therefore, the plot for the so-called Rape of the Sabine Women was concocted.

In order to lure women to Rome, Romulus and his people were said to have advertised to neighboring settlements that Rome would be hosting a religious festival. Unfortunately, curiosity was indeed piqued in nearby communities by the deceitful news of Rome’s upcoming festivities. Whole families visited Rome on the appointed day and at the arranged time to partake in the religious worship and the accompanying entertainments that had been promised. The hoped-for day of family fun, however, turned into an infamous incident of chaos and trauma. As narrated by the historian Livy, “at a given signal all the able-bodied [Roman] men burst through the crowd and seized the young women. Most of the girls were the prize of whoever got hold of them, but a few conspicuously handsome ones had been previously marked down for leading senators, and these were brought to their houses by special gangs” (Roman History, 1.9). Such is the scene that can be seen unfolding in Giovanni Battista Tiepolo’s painting.

As can be guessed, the actions of Romulus and his Romans enraged the Sabines, and war quickly erupted between the two peoples. Nevertheless, the Sabine women, who after the initial shock of abduction had begun to accept life in Rome, were conflicted by the war. According to legend, the Sabine women rushed out onto the battlefield and, putting themselves between the two armies, they forced the Romans and the Sabines to make peace and unite.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

The Great Pestilence Of Ticinum In The 7th Century

By
thehistorianshut
-

During the relatively quiet reign of King Perctarit of the Lombards (r. 671-688), the Lombard capital of Ticinum (later Pavia) and several other cities in Italy were reportedly ravaged by an unidentified pestilence—presumably plague. The incident was said to have taken place around 680, ominously taking hold of the region not long after lunar and solar portents had supposedly been seen in Italy. Whatever the timeline, Lombard tradition held that Ticinum was struck by a disease that had the potential to eradicate whole households. Facing this pestilential onslaught, many people evidently flocked to the countryside to escape the horrors of the city. Yet, waiting out the disease might have taken the medieval Lombards longer that they had planned, as the peak period of the pestilence reportedly lasted for about three months. A vivid description of the deadliness and the length of the outbreak was recorded by the Lombard historian, Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799), in his History of the Lombards:

“[T]here followed a very severe pestilence for three months, that is, in July, August, and September, and so great was the multitude of those dying that even parents with their children and brothers with their sisters were placed on biers two by two and conducted to their tombs at the city of Rome. And in like manner too this pestilence also depopulated Ticinum so that all citizens fled to the mountain ranges and to other places and grass and bushes grew in the marketplace and throughout the streets of the city” (Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards, VI.5).

While the citizenry of Ticinum were fleeing to the countryside for salvation from the disease, the local clergy had their own plan for aid—saint’s relics. As the city writhed, a shrine was built for Saint Sebastian (d. 288), a patron saint of plague victims. Along with the construction of the special shrine, which was placed in Ticinum’s church of Saint Peter, Bishop Damianus of Ticinum (aka Damian of Pavia) began negotiations with the pope in Rome for the acquisition of relics of Saint Sebastian that could be displayed at the shrine. While this period of brainstorming, building and relic negotiation had been ongoing, the outbreak of disease was naturally beginning to peter out. Therefore, when a relic of Saint Sebastian finally arrived in Ticinum, the ravages of disease were largely over. This correlation caused the church to proclaim that the arrival of Sebastian’s relics in Ticinum had saved the city from the pestilence.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Saint Sebastian Interceding For The Plague Stricken by Josse Lieferinxe (c. 1493-1505), [Public Domain, CCO] via Creative Commons and the Walters Art Museum).

 

Sources

Solon Before Croesus, by Nikolaus Knüpfer (c. 1603 – 1655)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, by the Dutch artist Nikolaus Knüpfer (c. 1603 – 1655), re-creates a legendary meeting between King Croesus of Lydia and the Athenian law-giver, Solon, who both flourished in the first half of the 6th century BCE. For information on the ancient story that inspired this scene, we can turn to the writings of Herodotus (c. 490-425/420 BCE) and Plutarch (c. 50-120 CE). Herodotus, in his Histories, wrote that “Solon left home and, after a visit to the court of Amasis [Ahmose II] in Egypt, went to Sardis to see Croesus. Croesus entertained him hospitably in the palace, and three or four days after his arrival instructed some servants to take him on a tour of the royal treasuries and point out the richness and magnificence of everything” (Herodotus, The Histories, 1.30). Plutarch’s later account is slightly different; he downplays the role of the servants to refocus the tale on the bejeweled figure of King Croesus. Plutarch wrote:

“[Croesus] was decked out with everything in the way of precious stones, dyed raiment, and wrought gold that men deem remarkable, or extravagant, or enviable, in order that he might present a most august and gorgeous spectacle. But when Solon, in this presence, neither showed any astonishment at what he saw, nor made any such comments upon it as Croesus had expected, but actually made it clear to all discerning eyes that he despised such vulgarity and pettiness, the king ordered his treasure chambers to be thrown open for the guest, and that he should be led about to behold the rest of his sumptuous equipment” (Plutarch, Parallel Lives, Life of Solon, 27.2-3).

Nikolaus Knüpfer brings this legendary tale to life in his painting. King Croesus, sitting high in his expensive regalia on his well-furbished platform, pridefully points out to his guest the nearby hoard of treasures, which spill out of shelves and cabinets to haphazardly litter the floor. Solon, according to both Herodotus and Plutarch, acknowledged that Croesus had a great quantity of wealth, but instead of being impressed, Solon found the heaps of jewels and precious metals to be distasteful and dangerous. As the story goes, Solon tried to give Croesus a cautionary lesson on the wide-spread ancient Greek belief that great fortune can easily and unexpectedly plummet into terrible misfortune. This philosophy often was encapsulated by catchy sayings such as ‘don’t count a living person lucky or happy until they meet death with their wealth, happiness and reputation still unscathed.’ The Lydian king, however, did not take the lesson to heart; instead, he quite angrily expelled Solon from his court. Nevertheless, there had been truth to Solon’s warning, for Cyrus the Great and the Persians conquered Croesus’ kingdom in 546 BCE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

Giovanni Boccaccio

By
thehistorianshut
-

Giovanni Boccaccio (c. 1313-1375)

“The poets have always found more to sustain them in their songs, than many a rich man has found in his treasures.”

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

The Treasure-Rooted Marriage Of Ketil Thorirsson And Arneid

By
thehistorianshut
-

A man named Ketil Thorirsson was an early settler of Iceland, who moved to the island in the 9th century. Ketil and his brother, Atli, claimed land and began building homes around the Lagarfljót area of eastern Iceland. Yet, Ketil Thorirsson also made sure to allow himself time off from the monotony of building and developing his Icelandic estate. As told in the medieval Landnámabók (Book of Settlements) and the Droplaugarsona saga (The Saga of Droplaug’s Sons), Ketil Thorirsson sailed away for one particularly consequential adventure, which eventually brought him to the household of a powerful figure named Vethorm Vermundarson. This Vethorm and his clan had reportedly warred against a certain Jarl Asbjorn Skerry-Blaze of the Hebrides, and in that violent struggle, Vethorm’s family was triumphant, ultimately killing Jarl Asbjorn, looting his estate, and hauling off captives as slaves. One such prisoner brought back to Vethorm’s homeland was Asbjorn’s daughter, Arneid, who was still present around Vethorm Vermundarson’s property when Ketil Thorirsson arrived.

Arneid viewed the arrival of Ketil as an opportunity to escape from her life of servitude on the estates of her father’s killers. Ketil Thorirsson was unmarried at the time, and she used all of her powers to catch his attention. Nevertheless, romance was not the only route of persuasion she took. She also let Ketil know that he would receive great financial gain if he took her from Vethorm’s clutches. Arneid’s proposed monetary incentive, so the story goes, was her knowledge of a great hoard of buried treasure, which she would reveal to Ketil after he delivered her from her father’s killers. Ketil Thorirsson believed her promises, and was quite smitten with her, so he began pressuring Vethorm to sell Arneid. Vethorm ultimately caved, and, for a hefty sum, handed Arneid over to Ketil, who then freed and married her. On this tale, the Book of Settlements stated, “For Arneid Asbjorn’s-daughter Ketil paid double Vethorm’s original price, and after the bargain was struck Ketil made Arneid his wife. Afterwards she found a hoard of silver buried under the roots of a tree. Then Ketil offered to take her back to her family, but she chose to go with him” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 278). With their silvery treasure in hand, the newlyweds sailed back to Iceland and construction was resumed on their estate in the Lagarfljót region of the island. Their family home, curiously named after Arneid, was called Arneidarstead.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (cropped and modified Frithiofs lycka (ur Frithiofs saga), painted by August Malmström (c. 1829-1901), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the National Museum of Stockholm Sweden).

 

Sources:

Alexander Of Macedon In The Camp Of King Darius, Painted By Karol Bechon (1732-1812) And Franciszek Smuglewicz (c. 1745-1807)

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, attributed to Karol (or Charles) Bechon (c. 1732-1812) and Franciszek Smuglewicz (c. 1745-1807), draws its inspiration from an event that occurred during the remarkable reign of Alexander the Great of Macedonia (r. 336-323 BCE). In particular, the artwork re-creates a scene that occurred after the Battle of Issus in 333 BCE, where Alexander defeated the forces of Darius III of Persia. As the Persian ruler was chased off the battlefield, he had to leave behind his camp, as well as anything and anyone that had been in it at the time of the battle. Unfortunately for the defeated Persian king, he had left many of his loved ones in that camp, including his mother, wife and children. Therefore, when Darius was defeated and forced to flee, his family was subsequently captured by Alexander the Great. Arrian (c. 90-173+), a Roman biographer of Alexander, wrote, “Darius’ headquarters were stormed and captured; his mother was taken, together with his wife (who was also his sister) and his infant son; in addition to these, two of his daughters fell into Alexander’s hands with a few noble Persian ladies who were in attendance upon them” (Anabasis Alexandri, Book 2, chapter 12). When Alexander the Great became aware that he had captured the family of Darius, the first thing that he did was to send one of his companions to reassure the captives that Darius was still alive. On another day, he visited the captured Persian royals in person and made sure that they were kept safe. This meeting between Alexander the Great and the captive Persian royals is what is reproduced in the painting above. Darius’ family remained with Alexander the Great until around 331 BCE, when he left them behind in the city of Susa.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

King Childebert II Of Austrasia Had Three Fathers

By
thehistorianshut
-

Childebert II, born around 570, was the son of King Sigebert and Queen Brunhild. Their particular family was one branch of the large and powerful Merovingian Dynasty that ruled over the Frankish Empire. Sigebert ruled over the portion of the empire called Austrasia, and at the time of Childebert’s birth in 570, the rest of the empire was ruled by Sigebert’s brothers, Chilperic (the King of Soissons and Neustria) and Guntram (the King of Orleans and Burgundy). Despite their sibling status, the three brothers did not coexist peacefully. King Sigebert and King Chilperic were in a bloody feud, waging war against each other from both the shadows and on the battlefield. King Guntram, watching his brothers fight, would join one side and then the other in hopes of maintaining some sort of balance. Nevertheless, while Guntram could try to limit the damage of open war, he was not able to stop the more subtle assaults from assassins. As such, in 575, when Childebert II was only five years old, his father, King Sigebert, was struck dead by an assassin’s blade. Although Guntram could not save Sigebert, he did protect young Childebert from the hostile intentions of King Chilperic, ensuring that the boy would live to inherit his slain father’s kingdom.

Warfare, intrigue and disease made it difficult to keep a stable household of children in the Merovingian Dynasty. By 577, King Guntram had no more living sons to inherit his kingdom, so he adopted King Childebert II and named him his heir. Similarly, King Chilperic also had no living sons as of 581, so he, too, adopted Childebert II as his son and heir in that year. Therefore, at that odd period in time, young Childebert had three fathers—his slain natural father, Sigebert, his protective adopted father, Guntram, and the much more violent and nefarious adopted father, King Chilperic. In the tug-of-war over their shared adopted son, Guntram beat Chilperic by ceding land to Childebert, convincing the young king and his court to realign Austrasia’s military and resources with Guntram. In response, Childebert was quickly disowned by King Chilperic as soon as he had another son.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Scenes of Guntram and Childebert from BL Royal 16 G VI, f. 72v, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons, Europeana, and The British Library).

 

Sources:

1...979899...369Page 98 of 369

RECENT POSTS

POPULAR