Showing posts with label Economics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Economics. Show all posts

Monday, March 2, 2020

The Murder Of Wine-Merchant Christopher And The Hunt For His Killers



Around the year 585, France experienced a severe famine, which the merchant class savagely used to their advantage. A man named Christopher was one such opportunistic trader who scurried to sell food and drink to the parched and starving people of France at a predatory price. He was apparently from a larger merchant family, and with him in France was at least one other brother who was helping to administer the family’s business interests in the Frankish lands. Their buying and selling schemes were aided by the family’s access to a network of ships that could navigate the rivers and seas of Europe. Christopher’s last known mission brought him to the city of Orleans, where he ensured that a shipment of wine was loaded onto boats and sent down river to its destination. Although the wine was being carried by way of the river, Christopher went in a different direction. Instead of hitching a ride on one of the ships, he hopped on a horse and traveled by road in another direction. His path brought him into a forested region, yet his next mission and intentions are unknown, for he was murdered during his journey and all of his effects were stolen.

Before long, Christopher’s body was discovered, and his brother made his way to the vicinity of Orleans to complete the morbid task of overseeing the funeral arrangements. Yet, the brother was likely not prepared for the gruesome nature of the crime. Wounds on the victim’s body told a foul tale—he had been stabbed in the back and mutilated by blows to the head and torso. The number and ferocity of the blows hinted at the murder being a crime of rage and hate instead of a robbery gone wrong.

Christopher’s wealthy family strove to avenge their kinsman’s death. The brother in Orleans gathered a posse to hunt down the killers, and he already had some persons of interest in mind. In Orleans, witnesses had seen Christopher traveling with two servant-slaves of Saxon origin. While the late merchant had been brutal on the prices of his wares for the starving, he was even more savage in his treatment of his slaves. Christopher’s brother knew the two Saxon slaves had been flogged many a time by their late master and that the two had unsuccessfully tried to run away in the past—leading to even more punishment. As the slaves in question had not been found dead, injured, or present at the scene of the crime, they became prime suspects for the murder. As such, Christopher’s brother had his mercenaries and bounty hunters search specifically for the missing slaves.

After the death of Christopher, whether or not the Saxons were involved, the two servant-slaves fled from the scene and split up. One of the two was unluckily caught by the manhunters, but the Saxon did not give up without a fight. In a second escape attempt from his captors, the unlucky slave killed one of the mercenaries and tried to run away. He did not get far, however, and was soon recaptured. Christopher’s brother had apparently, by then, moved to Tours, so the arrested Saxon slave was brought there by the mercenaries for punishment. Christopher’s brother was in a bitter and unforgiving mood, leading him to push for a merciless and brutal sentencing. When the bounty hunters arrived in that city with their prisoner, tales of the grisly events that they were all involved in reached the ear of Tours’ bishop, Gregory (c. 539-594), who was a historian as well as a clergyman. Gregory of Tours recorded the account of Christopher’s murder for posterity and wrote that the captured Saxon slave was “taken by the others to Tours, submitted to various tortures and mutilated: then his corpse was hanged from a gibbet” (History of the Franks, VII.46). As for the surviving Saxon fugitive, he apparently escaped detection and was not seen again.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Illustration of the death of William the red, dated to c. 1864, by James William Edmund Doyle (1822–1892), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.

Wednesday, February 19, 2020

The Vast Vineyards Of Emperor Wu



Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty (r.  141-87 BCE) expanded his empire in all directions. He started attacking the nomadic Xiongnu coalition to his north around 134 BCE. In the south, the Chinese-Vietnamese borderlands of Southern Yue fell to Han forces between 112-111 BCE, and the emperor followed that up by conquering the North Korean kingdom of Chaoxian between 109-108 BCE. While these conquests were occurring, Emperor Wu had been sending explorers and diplomatic missions westward as far as the region now known as Uzbekistan. A primary task of these envoys was to find and obtain horses, for the horse population in China had suffered catastrophically as a result of Emperor Wu’s campaigns against the Xiongnu. As the envoys began cultivating relationships with the different states and rulers of Central Asia, other goods from the region besides horses began to catch their interest. When the envoys returned to China, they were accompanied by representatives of the foreign Central Asian rulers, and samples of goods from the west were brought before the emperor. Curiously, Emperor Wu was quite impressed by two crops in particular—grapes and alfalfa.

From 104 BCE to 101/100 BCE, Emperor Wu sent his military to campaign against the cities in Central Asia, leading to the conquest or subjugation of states up to the Ferghana Valley. As a result, the emperor gained access to new herds of horses. He was particularly intrigued with a type of horse afflicted with a parasite that made the animal appear to sweat blood. While Han forces rounded up Central Asian land and horses, the emperor had another project in the works on his estates in China—systematically planting crops from the west around his palaces. According to Grand Historian Sima Qian, “when the Han acquired large numbers of the ‘heavenly horses’ and the envoys from foreign states began to arrive with their retinues, the lands on all sides of the emperor’s summer palaces and pleasure towers were planted with grapes and alfalfa for as far as the eye could see” (Shi Ji 123). Emperor Wu apparently used his vineyards for wine experimentation, while the grassy fields were used to supply fodder for his stables. The aforementioned Sima Qian mused, “The people love their wine and the horses love their alfalfa” (Shi Ji 123).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Chinese landscape labeled Walters 35101K, purchased by Henry Walters in 1915, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.
 

Sunday, January 19, 2020

The First Scandinavian Reported To Have Seen North America



Two sagas from the 13th century—Eirik the Red’s Saga and the Saga of the Greenlanders—unanimously declare that Leif Eiriksson was the first known Scandinavian to set foot on North America. Despite that acknowledgment, the Saga of the Greenlanders also claimed that at least one other person had seen the New World before Leif made his journey. The person in question was an Icelandic merchant named Bjarni Herjolfsson. Around 986, Bjarni was reportedly seeing to his trade route between Iceland and Norway when he received news that his father, Herjolf, was joining Eirik the Red’s expedition to settle Greenland. By the time Bjarni returned home, his father had already set sail for the new land. This realization disturbed the merchant—perhaps he was worried about his father’s ability to set up a farm alone, or maybe he was simply a filial type of guy who really loved his father. Whatever the case, Bjarni Herjolfsson quickly set back out to sea in order to meet up with his father in Greenland before winter, and he did not even take the time to unload or sell any of the cargo that he brought back from Norway before leaving port.

With his ship overweight and his navigation rushed, Bjarni soon found himself at the mercy of the weather. As the story goes, he was blown off course by storms and then found himself blinded by dense fog. Lost at sea, he continued sailing until finally, at long last, he spotted land. Yet, the sight of the coast perturbed Bjarni, for he had been given a description of his destination before he had set sail, and the lands he saw ahead were in no way Eirik the Red’s misleadingly-named Greenland. What was before him was an entirely different land.

Still eager to reach his father, Bjarni Herjolfsson did not stop to explore on foot, but instead sailed northward along the coast. He watched the geography change as his journey progressed. At first, the country he saw was extremely forested. Tree-covered hills began to give way to wooded flatlands, followed by a region of snow-capped mountains and a glacier on what seemed to be an island. Upon arriving in this more frigid and snowy place, Bjarni and his crew made the fortuitous decision to start sailing back east. Navigating this new route, the lost Icelanders finally reached Greenland, and Bjarni was reunited with Herjolf. Despite seeing plentiful land to the west, Bjarni apparently never attempted to go back to the places he witnessed. He did, however, spread the word in Greenland and similarly told his story in Norway whenever he visited for business.

Leif Eiriksson, according to the Saga of the Greenlanders, was one of the people reportedly captivated by Bjarni Herjolfsson’s tales of land to the west. Eirik the Red’s Saga, however, cuts Bjarni out of the story and instead insists it was Leif who, while returning home from Norway, was blown off course by storms and discovered the New World by accident. Whatever the case, either tipped off by Bjarni Herjolfsson or carried off course by his own fateful storm, Leif was said to have reached North America around the year 1000 and went one step further than Bjarni by actually stepping foot on the land, which he called Vinland.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:
  • The Vinland Sagas (Saga of the Greenlanders and Eirik the Red’s Saga) translated by Keneva Kunz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.
  • https://www.encyclopedia.com/science/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/bjarni-herjolfsson  

Sunday, November 10, 2019

The Entrepreneurial Woes Of Margery Kempe



Margery Brunham was born in 1373 to a prominent and wealthy merchant family from King’s Lynn, Norfolk. Her father, John Brunham, was one of the most influential men of the Lynn community, serving in such roles as Member of Parliament, Mayor of Lynn, Justice of the Peace, chamberlain, and alderman of the local guild. He even held the office of coroner. John Brunham was an undoubtedly successful man in both finances and politics, and his daughter, Margery, consequently lived like an heiress, wearing the latest fashion trends and soaking up the local limelight. Margery Brunham described her early wardrobe to a scribe, who wrote “She wore gold piping on her headdress, and her hoods with the tippets were fashionably slashed. Her cloaks were also modishly slashed and underlaid with various colours between the slashes, so that she would be all the more stared at, and all the more esteemed” (The Book of Margery Kempe, chapter 2). Her philosophy in wearing such garb, she claimed, was simply that wearing anything less than the best would be a dishonor to the Brunham family’s lofty prestige.

Margery’s expensive lifestyle would change, however, when she was about twenty years of age.  The change came because of her marriage to John Kempe around 1393—he was described by his wife as a tender and compassionate man, but Mr. Kempe was far less successful than Margery’s father in business and politics. This was a problem for the new Mrs. Kempe, as she was loath to decrease her wardrobe expenses, regardless of who she married. The newlywed couple soon began to clash over their finances. Margery Kemp apparently scoffed at her husband’s attempts to curtail her spending, and admitted in her autobiography that she “answered [him] sharply and shortly,” arguing that if he did not have the means to satisfy her wardrobe demands, then he should not have married a proud woman from the Brunham family. Margery did, however, eventually relent somewhat to her husband’s concerns, and she ultimately tried to start her own businesses so that she could pay for her lifestyle out of her own pocket.

In her first entrepreneurial endeavor, Margery Kempe launched an ale brewery operation. According to her autobiography, she became “one of the greatest brewers in the town of N. [Lynn] for three or four years” (The Book of Margery Kempe, chapter 2). Her self-proclaimed ‘greatness,’ unfortunately, was measured by quantity, not quality. Although she apparently had one of the largest brewing operations at the time, the beverages she produced must have been terrible. Her autobiography recounted how “all the ale was lost in one brewing after another, so that her servants were ashamed and would not stay with her” (The Book of Margery Kempe, chapter 2). Faced with no sellable product and abandoned by her workers, Margery gave up her brewery ambitions. Yet, her entrepreneurial endeavors were not yet exhausted.

Not long after she abandoned her brewery, Margery Kemp soon bought herself a milling business. She obtained a horse-mill, and brought in two horses, plus a handler to work the animals and the contraption. Her business plan was to grind peoples’ grain for a fee, and looked forward to raking in cash while the horses did their simple job. Yet, Margery Kempe made a horrible mistake—she seemed to have bought the single worst pair of horses in all of Lynn. The horses refused to work with the mill or the miller, grinding the enterprise’s productivity to a halt. Both horses put up such a stubborn fight that Margery’s single employee at the mill quit his job in frustration, and the reputation that the mill gained in its short lifespan made it impossible for Margery to hire another mill operator. In Lynn, Margery’s back-to-back business failures apparently became a favorite subject of local gossip. The aforementioned autobiography claimed, “it was noised about in the town of N. [Lynn] that neither man nor beast would serve the said creature [Margery], and some said she was accursed” (The Book of Margery Kempe, chapter 2). After the failure of her mill, Margery gave up her private business endeavors. Her passion, however, simply shifted from entrepreneurship to spiritual pursuit. To the dismay of John Kempe, his wife’s new phase was quite expensive, as Margery’s spiritual drive led her to go on pilgrimages to lands such as Germany, Spain, Rome and Jerusalem.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Young woman drawing, painted by Marie-Denise Villers  (1774–1821), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • The Book of Margery Kempe, dictated by Margery Kempe, and translated to modern English by B. A. Windeatt. New York, Penguin Classics, 2000.
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Margery-Kempe  

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

The Wrath of Hardecanute Against The City Of Worcester



In 1040, King Harold Harefoot of England died, and the English throne passed to his estranged half-brother, King Hardecanute of Denmark. There was no love lost between Hardecanute and his late half-brother. Hardecanute thought he, himself, should have been king of England from the beginning, and Harold Harefoot’s successful ascendance to the throne was deemed unforgivable by the new king. Hardecanute was such a wrathful and vindictive man that when he finally inherited England in 1040, one of his first actions was to dig up his half-brother’s body and unceremoniously throw it into a sewer, river or wetland. This king—impulsive, unforgiving, grave-exhuming Hardecanute—is the monarch from which the city of Worcester decided to withhold their taxes in 1041. Even worse, the city announced its taxation rebellion by killing two tax collectors who had come with Hardecanute from Denmark.

The monk and chronicler, Florence of Worcester (d. 1118), described this event in great detail, no doubt benefiting from his personal connection to the city. According to Florence, two Danish tax collectors, whom he named Feader and Thurstan, arrived in Worcester to collect taxes and tribute for King Hardecanute. As the story goes, on May 4, 1041, the Danes were lured into a tower of the local abbey, where they were ambushed and killed by a group of citizens who did not want to pay taxes to Hardecanute.

It did not take long for King Hardecanute to discover that two of his Danish comrades had been killed, and that the city of Worcester was responsible. The king quickly called on all the earls of England to mobilize their troops for a great punitive campaign against the audacious tax-evading city. Florence of Worcester described the scale of mobilization for the mission and the drastic orders that were given to the army:

“This [slaying of the tax collectors] so incensed the king , that to avenge their deaths he sent Thorold, earl of Middlesex, Leofric, earl of Mercia, Godwin, earl of Wessex, Siward, earl of Northumbria, Roni, earl of Hereford, and all the other English earls, with almost all his huscarls, and a large body of troops, to Worcester…with orders to put to death all the inhabitants they could find, to plunder and burn the city, and lay waste the whole province” (Chronicle of Florence of Worcester, AD 1041).

Hardecanute’s punitive army was on the march by November, 1041, but the city of Worcester was fortunate enough to receive prior warning of the incoming force. Thankfully, by the time the army reached Worcester on November 12, 1041, a great majority of the city’s population had been evacuated. Yet, as with natural disasters, there are always a few who try to ride out the storm.

Those who did flee the city limits spread out in multiple directions, but a huge portion of these refugees apparently grabbed weapons, boarded boats, and sailed out into the River Severn. They reportedly anchored at a small island in the river and set up camp there while Hardecanute’s army occupied the city of Worcester. The king’s troops reportedly pillaged the city for four days and, according to Florence of Worcester, they even set it on fire. While this rampage was ongoing, the marauding army discovered the island of refugees in the Severn. Yet, the army was content to quarantine the armed refugees to that island while Worcester was ravaged. Hardecanute’s army reportedly withdrew on the fifth day of the occupation, allowing the refugees from the island and elsewhere to return to their pillaged and burned city.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Siege of Jerusalem from BL Royal 1 E IX, f. 222 (c. 1400-1425, [Public Domain] via picryl.com and Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester translated by Thomas Forester. London: Petter and Galpin, originally published 1854
  • The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012. 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Harold-I 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Hardecanute

Sunday, August 18, 2019

The Torturous Tax Conflict Between King Chilperic And The City Of Limoges



King Chilperic (r. 561-584) of the Franks was said to have dramatically raised taxes in his realm around 578 or 579. In particular, the landowners were hit hard by the policy, as, among other things, they were taxed per every half acre they owned, as well as the number of workers they employed. The new taxes were so unbearable that many people fled to the less-taxed lands of Chilperic’s fellow Merovingian co-kings, Guntram (r. 561-593) and Childebert II (r. 575-595). The rest who stayed in Chilperic’s kingdom divided into two camps—those who were willing to live with the new taxes, and those who wished to stop the implementation of the new tax code.

The landowners of Limoges were in the latter camp and were willing to go to extremes to resist the taxes. According to Bishop Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), a tax collector named Mark was responsible for implementing the new code in Limoges. As could be expected, Mark’s occupation made him extremely unpopular in the region. When Mark attempted to collect the tax, the people of Limoges erupted into a violent mob and attempted to kill the official. The beleaguered tax collector reportedly only survived because he was given shelter by Bishop Ferreolus. With Mark off limits, the mob went for the next best thing—the tax books and records. After seizing all of the tax collector’s documents, the rioters built a great bonfire and burned every tax-related item they could find.

King Chilperic was reportedly outraged at the insurrection that occurred in Limoges. According to Gregory of Tours, the king’s response to the city was brutal. Troops and officials were sent to Limoges to enforce law and order. Those who were believed to be ringleaders of the riot were rounded up, tortured and executed, apparently including a few local priests. After meting out these punishments, King Chilperic then reimposed his taxes on the city at an even greater rate than had been originally demanded. Fortunately for the city, the new tax code only lasted until 580. Yet, it was bittersweet news, for the taxes were lowered in response to a widespread epidemic of dysentery in France.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (The Village Lawyer's Office, by Pieter Breughel the Younger (1564–1638), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971. 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Chilperic-I 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Guntram-king-of-Burgundy 
  • https://www.britannica.com/place/Limoges  

Sunday, November 11, 2018

An Interesting Way That The Extravagant Emperor Claudius Supposedly Attempted To Restrain Extravagance In Rome



As early as the reign of Augustus (r. 31 BCE – 14 CE), the emperors of Rome had adopted the powers wielded by the office of the Censor. The Roman Censor had duties such as organizing censuses, evaluating the membership of Roman societal classes (including the Senate), and keeping an eye on financial practices in Rome. With such powers, it is easy see why the emperors wanted to absorb the duties of the Censor for themselves.

As suggested by the name “Censor,” the holders of this office were additionally tasked with keeping immorality and excessive indulgence under control in Rome. It was an ironic role for the emperors, as many among their ranks led lives of unimaginable debauchery and wastefulness. Nevertheless, a few of the emperors took their role as a moral Censor seriously. Others, however, half-heartedly made a show of condemning extravagance while simultaneously emptying the treasury to fund massive public entertainment.

Emperor Claudius (r. 41-54) was one of those ironic Roman rulers who held the role of Censor, but also hosted magnificent shows of all kinds. For example, according to Suetonius (c. 70-130+), Claudius used gladiators to recreate in Rome the realistic siege and pillaging of a town, and he even inaugurated the completion of a canal project by holding a mock sea battle on Fucine Lake.

According to Suetonius, Emperor Claudius did carry out at least one memorable action specifically in his role as Censor, although even this was done with a flair of showmanship. One day, Claudius apparently decided it was time to make a public display against extravagance.  With this in mind, the emperor headed to the Sigillaria (a market street) and searched for something that was particularly decadent. After perusing the wares, he finally picked an ornate silver-plated chariot and had it rolled out to a public space. Then, with the curious eyes of the Roman people watching, Emperor Claudius reportedly had his soldiers hack the expensive chariot to pieces. With his duty as censor apparently complete, Claudius went back to planning his next great gladiatorial extravaganza.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Chariot of the mascarade des artistes français in Rome c. 1748. [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • The Annals of Imperial Rome by Tacitus, translated by Michael Grant. New York: Penguin Classics, 1996.
  • The Twelve Caesars (Divus Claudius, 15) by Suetonius, translated by Robert Graves and edited by James B. Rives. New York: Penguin Classics, 2007.

Wednesday, February 7, 2018

The Spicy Demands of The Visigoth King Alaric



Alaric was a Visigoth who, like many of his kinsmen, had served in the Roman military under Emperor Theodosius I (r. 379-395). Upon the death of Theodosius I, the emperor’s two sons, Arcadius and Honorius, took control of the eastern and western halves of the empire, respectively. Around that same time (c. 394-395), Alaric also ascended to power—he became King of the Visigoths. With the empire fractured and going through the strains of succession, King Alaric seized the opportunity to forcefully renegotiate the status quo between his people and the Romans.

Seeking resources, land and, if possible, citizenship in the Roman Empire, King Alaric led his Visigoths first against the Roman east. He was quickly diverted, however, and rerouted his ambitions to the west, with his sights specifically set on the city of Rome. For most of the first decade of the 5th century, Alaric’s maneuvers were constantly countered by the skilled Roman-Vandal general, Flavius Stilicho. Emperor Honorius, however, executed Stilicho in 408, leaving King Alaric’s growing power unchecked.

From 408-410, King Alaric held annual sieges of Rome. Much of this time he spent trying to negotiate with Emperor Honorius. He was willing to return to his position as an ally of Rome if his people were granted land, resources and an improved status in the empire. Alaric, however, could never get the emperor to make a deal, even after capturing Honorius’ sister, setting up a puppet emperor, and obtaining the promise of the Roman Senate to mediate negotiations between Alaric and Honorius.

As he was still trying to negotiate with the Romans, King Alaric was willing to accept bribes to call off his sieges of Rome. In 408, the Senate was said to have paid off the Visigoths with an enormous two tons of gold, and thirteen more tons of silver. Alaric was also given thousands of silk garments and fleeces. Yet, the Visigoth king also wanted another luxurious commodity—Piper nigrum, better known as black pepper, which was perhaps the most demanded spice in the ancient and medieval world. Along with the other bribes sent in 408, the Romans were said to have scrounged together a whopping 3,000 pounds of black pepper to be sent to the Visigoths.

Despite the material bribes, Alaric never received his true goals from the years of negotiating with the Romans. He eventually lost his patience in 410 and sacked the city of Rome for three days. Not too long after, King Alaric died of illness and was buried by his forces somewhere in southern Italy.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (King Alaric in Athens, by Ludwig Thiersch, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • Vanished Kingdoms: The Rise and Fall of States and Nations by Norman Davies. New York: Viking (Penguin Group), 2011. 
  • Transnationalism in Ancient and Medieval Societies: The Role of Cross-Border Trade and Travel by Michael C. Howard. North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2012. 
  • https://www.ancient.eu/Alaric/ 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Alaric 
  • http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/romans/enemiesrome_gallery_01.shtml  

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Darius the Great’s Palace of International Imports



The Persians, themselves, were not generally known for being expert craftsmen or monument-makers—buying finished goods or contracting skilled tradesmen from different conquered regions in the empire was more their style. Nevertheless, the wide variety of resources that were accessible to the Persian King of Kings, as well as the organization and administrative ability to pool all of these resources together for a single construction project, allowed the Persians sponsor some unique architectural feats constructed from multicultural labor and artists.

Historians know a great deal about the wide variety of resources that Persian kings like Darius I “the Great” (c. 550-486 BCE) were able to obtain for their construction projects. Darius I was known to have funded great building programs in the cities of Pasargadae, Susa and Persepolis. In the latter two cities, Darius the Great built great palaces. Despite the palace complex of Persepolis eventually gaining more grandeur and prestige, especially after additions made by Xerxes I (r. 486-465 BCE), it was the palace at Susa that was alleged to be Darius the Great’s favorite residence.

From what we know about the palace, the residence at Susa was quite a feat of logistics and labor organization. For the brickwork of the palace, Darius brought in brickmakers from Babylon. The lumber used in constructing the palace was acquired from regions such as Lebanon, Iran and Afghanistan. All of this wood was shaped and cut by carpenters from Sardinia and Egypt. Sardinians also served as stonecutters, alongside similar craftsmen from the Greek-settled portion of western Annatolia, known as Ionia.

The Ionian stonecutters brought with them an assortment of ornaments and decorations to be mounted on the palace. Ionia was not alone in this—even more precious metals and gems were brought in from other sections of the empire. From the modern regions of Afghanistan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, Darius I gathered luxurious commodities such as gold, lapis-lazuli, carnelian, turquoise and ivory. Further shipments of ivory also came from the regions of Pakistan and Ethiopia. Likewise, Egypt contributed to the beauty of the palace at Susa by supplying ebony and silver. Just like the woodcutters and the stonecutters, the artists that were brought in to decorate the palace were also from regions conquered by the Persian Empire. Egyptians and Medes worked as goldsmiths and jewelers, and provided much of the artwork on the walls of the palace.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Top picture attribution: (Archers frieze from Darius' palace at Susa (cropped). Glazed siliceous bricks, c. late 6th century, approximately 510 BCE, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • Transnationalism in Ancient and Medieval Societies: The Role of Cross-Border Trade and Travel by Michael C. Howard. North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2012. 
  • https://www.ancient.eu/Darius_I/ 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Darius-I 
  • https://www.britannica.com/place/Persepolis