The Failed Attempt Of Cylon To Become Dictator Of Athens

One of the earliest events in Athenian history, of which we are fairly certain of its date, is the attempt by Cylon to set himself up as tyrant of Athens. According to the account of Thucydides (c. 460-400 BCE), the would-be dictator was a man of impressive skill and status. Cylon was from a noble family and he even had enough athletic prowess to win glory in the Olympic Games. His influence and power was further increased when he married the daughter of Theagenes, a tyrant ruler of Megara. Cylon’s fame, wealth and powerful father-in-law allowed him to gather a large following of friends who were willing to lay down their lives for their leader.

With such good fortune in his life, Cylon eventually traveled to Delphi to get a glimpse from the oracle of what the gods had in store for his future. Apparently, the oracle suggested that an upcoming great festival of Zeus would be the perfect time for Cylon to seize the Acropolis of Athens. There is too little information to know if this was supposed to be a direct order from the oracle, or if Cylon just interpreted the oracle’s riddle in the way that suited his wants. Whatever the case, Cylon left Delphi thinking that the gods would support him in becoming a dictator of Athens.

Secretly, Cylon brought up the idea with his father-in-law, Theagenes, the tyrant of Megara. Theagenes fully supported the idea and lent Cylon a small band of Megarian soldiers. Cylon also brought his numerous loyal friends into the conspiracy. With his troops prepared, all Cylon needed was to wait for the next great festival of Zeus in order to seize power.

The time came in 632 BCE, when an Olympic festival was being held in the Peloponnesus. The Peloponnesian festival was not the only festival for Zeus scheduled in the near future, but Cylon thought it was an adequate event to meet the oracle’s requirements. It was also fitting because Cylon was a former Olympic champion. The allies and friends of Cylon must have also thought it was a good time to strike because they followed their leader into the Acropolis, where Cylon declared himself to be the dictator of Athens.

Unfortunately for Cylon, he had misjudged how much effort and military might it would take to bend the Athenians to his will. According to Thucydides, when word began to spread around Attica that Cylon was trying to set himself up as dictator of Athens, people came pouring into the city from the countryside to defend democracy. The conspirators soon found themselves besieged in the Acropolis, cut off from food and water. According to the account of Thucydides, Cylon and his brother miraculously slipped away from Athens before the Athenians solidified their blockade. Yet, the rest of Cylon’s followers were not so lucky.

The Athenians were not in a hurry, so they let the siege drag on and on until the conspirators still trapped inside the Acropolis began dying of hunger and thirst. When Cylon’s followers were too weak to stand their ground, they began withdrawing to the alters in the Acropolis. At this point, the Athenian besiegers sent messages to the starving men, promising mercy if they would surrender. According to Thucydides, most of the remaining conspirators agreed to the proposal and left the temple. Unfortunately, the Athenians were not in a merciful mood, so, despite the agreement, they executed all of the people that left the sanctuary of the gods. At one particular altar, the altar of the Dread Goddess, the Athenians apparently did not even wait for the conspirators to leave the temple before they began their slaughter. The impatient Athenians who insulted the Dread Goddess by spilling blood on her sacred ground were later considered cursed by the goddess and they were exiled from Athens.

In 2016, interest in the story of Cylon was revived after a mass grave of eighty bound ancient skeletons were found near Phalaeron, an ancient city located only four miles from Athens. The skeletons have been dated to 650-625 BCE, placing them around the time of Cylon’s failed coup in 632 BCE. Although it is impossible to say if the skeletons are the remains of Cylon’s ill-fated followers, the theory is intriguingly plausible.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Illustration from page 218 of "Pinnock's improved edition of Dr. Goldsmith's History of Greece, abridged for the use of schools" (1836), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• History of the Peloponnesian War by Thucydides, translated by Rex Warner and introduced by M. I. Finley. New York: Penguin Classics, 1972.
• https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/shackled-skeletons-unearthed-in-greece-could-be-remains-of-slaughtered-rebels-180958812/ 
• https://www.forbes.com/sites/kristinakillgrove/2016/04/15/what-is-the-real-date-of-cylons-murdered-conspirators-from-ancient-greece/#4d2e74e44b43  

The Odd Treason Trial Of Marcus Scribonius Libo Drusus During The Reign Of Emperor Tiberius

Tiberius was a Roman Emperor who ruled from 14-37, and his character and actions are still debated to this day. To some, he was a sympathetic figure—his brother died slowly from a broken leg, Tiberius was forced by Augustus to divorce the love of his life in order to marry another woman, and his only child from that first marriage was assassinated. Yet, to others, Tiberius was a bloodthirsty maniac who enjoyed scheming from the shadows and murdering innocents. Two incidents, in particular, contributed to Tiberius’ negative public image. For one, the man oddly withdrew to a life of isolation on the island of Capri around the year 27, only a little more than half way through his reign. The other major critique of the emperor was the numerous suspicious trials of alleged treason that occurred during the period of his rule.

The Annals of Imperial Rome by the Roman statesman and historian, Tacitus (c. 56-117), is one of the oldest surviving sources on this period of Roman history. For full disclosure, Tacitus was heavily biased against Tiberius, as well as the emperor’s mother, Livia. Yet, the historical information from which Tacitus reached his biased conclusions is considered trustworthy. Therefore, according to Tacitus, the first major victim of Tiberius’ Treason Trials was a man named Marcus Scribonius Libo Drusus.

This man, who Tacitus thankfully calls “Libo,” was a well-connected individual. He had blood ties to the imperial Julian family, but also to Caesar’s old foe, Pompey. In fact, Tacitus claimed that Libo was the grand-nephew of Augustus’ first wife, Scribonia, as well as the great-grandson of Pompey the Great. Yet, despite his laudable lineage and wealth, Libo reportedly only had one passion—the occult.

Of his supernatural interests, Libo was said to have been particularly drawn to divination and fortune telling. According to Tacitus, the curious Libo sought out astrologers, necromancers, oneiromancers (dream readers) and other teachers of magical rituals. Apparently, Libo’s pursuit of otherworldly knowledge brought him into bad company—Firmius Catus (a fellow fan of the occult) and a man named Junius (affiliated with necromancy) would both later testify against Libo during his treason trial.

Tacitus wrote that Catus was the ringleader of the group that set in motion Libo’s doom, but it was Junius, the supposed necromancer, who started the legal proceedings. He informed on Libo to a prosecutor named Lucius Fulcinius Trio, and Trio quickly demanded that the senate begin an investigation into Libo’s behavior. In 16 CE, Marcus Scribonius Libo Drusus was formally accused of subversive plotting against the emperor and was brought to trial before the senate.

Libo went to his friends and relatives, but he could not find anyone with political clout to speak on his behalf—Tacitus claimed this was caused by fear of Tiberius, who would be in attendance. By the time of the trial, Libo had supposedly fallen ill and had to be carried on a litter to the senate. He was said to have needed to lean on his brother in order to walk into the building. During the session, Libo’s accusers were almost all familiar faces, such as Catus, Junius and Trio, but others had come forward to join the prosecution team. Tacitus specifically mentioned Fonteius Agrippa and Gaius Vibius Serenus as being involved, and even some of Libo’s slaves were tortured and brought in to testify. They argued that Libo’s interest in divination was to obtain a favorable prediction about his own future wealth and political power. They also produced written evidence that supposedly proved that Libo had been hatching sinister plans against the emperor and other notable people in the empire. The handwriting on this document was verified as being that of Libo by one of the tortured slaves, but Tacitus thought this and other pieces of evidence brought before the trial were woefully inadequate.

Nevertheless, when the trial was adjourned, Libo was put under house arrest until the next session. At that time, Libo already knew there was not much hope for clearing his name. Therefore, in hopeless despair, Marcus Scribonius Libo Drusus committed suicide by stabbing himself to death soon after the Praetorian Guard escorted him to his home. After the grim deed was done, Emperor Tiberius allegedly chastised the action of the deceased, proclaiming that he would never have let the trial end in execution. Nevertheless, very little respect was shown to the fallen. The people who led the prosecution seized Libo’s property and senators among this group were also granted supernumerary praetorships. The senate also decreed that statues of Libo could not be used in funeral parades, and they barred the Scribonius family from ever using the name “Drusus,” which happened to be the name of Tiberius’ son. Perhaps worst of all, September 13, the day of Libo’s suicide, was formally made into a public holiday.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Mural of a Roman court painted by Albert Herter (1871-1950), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Annals of Imperial Rome by Tacitus, translated by Michael Grant. New York: Penguin Classics, 1996.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Tiberius 
• http://enacademic.com/dic.nsf/enwiki/885305 
• http://classics.oxfordre.com/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780199381135.001.0001/acrefore-9780199381135-e-5760 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Drusus-Julius-Caesar  

Pope Leo III Almost Lost His Eyes And Tongue

Upon the death of Pope Adrian I, in 795, Pope Leo III was elected as the new head of the Christian church. Although he claimed to have been elected through an anonymous vote, Leo still had enemies. For unclear reasons, some supporters of the previous pope were bitterly opposed to the new leader of the church. They accused him with charges of immorality and misconduct, and when words failed to have the desired result, the conspirators plotted more physical attacks. In the year 799, a gang of assailants ambushed Pope Leo III as he traveled through the street. The attackers attempted to gouge out his eyes and cut out his tongue. According to Einhard (c. 770-840), the aggressors succeeded in their tasks, but the later commentator, Notker the Stammerer (c. 840-912) claimed that the pope suffered nothing more than a slashed eyelid. Whatever the case, the pope survived the attack and his eyes and tongue either healed or, according to the more fantastic tales, miraculously grew back.

Even though the plot failed, the dissidents in Rome had enough power to threaten Pope Leo’s authority. Fearing for his life and position, Pope Leo III went to Charlemagne and asked for assistance. With the help of the Frankish king, the worst conspirators against the pope were discredited, arrested and faced exile or execution. On Christmas day in the year 800, not long after order was restored in Rome, Pope Leo III bestowed upon Charlemagne the titles of Emperor and Augustus, allowing his heirs to later call their lands the Holy Roman Empire.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Illustration of Pope Leo III, by Artaud de Montor (1772–1849), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Two Lives of Charlemagne, by Einhard and Notker the Stammer, translated by David Ganz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Leo-III
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Adrian-I
• https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/saint/st-leo-iii-pope-268
• http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/09157b.htm 

The Bare Charge Of The Spartan Warrior, Isadas

Around 362 BCE, the Spartan king, Agesilaus II (r. 400-360 BCE) left Sparta with an army intended to help the Mantineans rebel against Thebes. When the Theban military leader, Epaminondas, heard of the approaching army, he decided that Sparta needed to be dealt with before he could focus on subduing Mantinea. Therefore, he evaded King Agesilaus and began marching his Theban forces against the undefended city of Sparta.

Before the 4th century BCE, nobody would have dared to march against the Spartan homeland. The Spartans were so sure of their military might that they never built a wall around their city and they proudly bragged that no woman in Sparta had ever seen smoke from an enemy campfire. Yet, Epaminondas had shattered this arrogance. He had defeated a Spartan army in a pitched battle at Leuctra, in 371 BCE, and followed that up by besieging the city of Sparta in the winter of 370 and early 369 BCE. During that siege, king Agesilaus kept a strictly defensive strategy, and, for unknown reasons, Epaminondas eventually called off the siege and withdrew.

So, when Epaminondas marched into the Peloponnesus in 362 BCE, it was nothing new to him or to Sparta. Thankfully for the Spartans, King Agesilaus discovered Epaminondas’ plan and was able to return to Sparta before the forces from Thebes besieged the city. Although Agesilaus had chosen a defensive strategy in the earlier siege of 370 BCE, his reaction to the 362 BCE siege was vastly different. This time, the aging king (reportedly eighty-two years old) had the Spartans repel the Thebans by overwhelming force.

The Greek-Roman historian, Plutarch (c. 50-120 CE), described the siege in his biography of King Agesilaus II, included in his Parallel Lives. He wrote that the Spartan forces faced the Thebans in the narrow streets of the city. King Agesilaus micromanaged his troops with skillful coordination, attacking where the besiegers were thin and sending reinforcements to where his own soldiers faced pressure. Plutarch wrote that many Spartans showed heroism during the battle to end the siege, but that a young man named Isadas was the hero that stood out above the rest.

At the time of the siege, Isadas was in his teens or early twenties. Or, as Plutarch put it, “Handsome in appearance and tall in stature, he was at the age when the human physique reaches perfection as boyhood merges into manhood” (Life of Agesilaus, chapter 34). When the Spartans began to counter-attack, this ideal Spartan youth apparently burst out of his home completely in the nude and charged at the enemy with nothing but a spear in one hand and a sword in the other. Equipped in this manner, the naked warrior ran past his startled comrades and plunged straight into the shocked enemy lines. According to the tale, he struck down countless foes while not even suffering a scratch during his frenzied fight. The Thebans were apparently convinced that the nude warrior was protected from harm by the gods and granted superhuman strength. Against such staunch defenders, Epaminondas once again abandoned his siege of Sparta and withdrew his forces.

Plutarch wrote that the government of Sparta recognized Isadas’ valor after the battle. The youth was given an honorary crown by the Ephors of the city, a governing council that shared power with the Spartan kings. Yet, they also wanted to use the occasion as a teaching point—in addition to the crown, they fined Isadas 1,000 drachmas as punishment for the idiocy of charging into battle without armor.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Ancient Greek running warrior by a Colmar Painter (–520–445 BCE), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• On Sparta (Life of Agesilaus), by Plutarch excerpted from his Parallel Lives, translated by Richard J. A. Talbert. New York: Penguin Classics, 2005.

The Future King Of Norway, Harald Hardrada, Supposedly Conquered A City By Playing Sports

From around 1038 to 1041, the Byzantine Empire’s talented general, George Maniakes, carried out a military campaign that led to the momentary conquest of the island of Sicily. Harald Sigurdsson, also known as Harald Hardrada or Harald the Ruthless, was one of the foreign mercenaries that took part in the campaign. He would later become King Harald III of Norway, but for now, he was leading the Varangian Guard, the most renowned mercenary company in the empire that took orders only from the Byzantine emperor.

The Greek historians, such as Michael Pseullus and John Skylitzes, mainly focused on the actions of George Maniakes in their commentaries on the Sicilian campaign. They acknowledged that foreign mercenaries were also present on the island and some admitted that Harald Hardrada accomplished impressive feats while in Sicily. They, however, reserved their highest praise for George Maniakes, who, by 1039, had conquered most of the island, and was said to have personally captured thirteen Sicilian cities.

Nevertheless, the future Norwegian king received more recognition from his Scandinavian peers. The great Icelandic historian and saga writer, Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), wrote a dramatic account of Harald’s war-torn life in King Harald’s Saga. In it, Sturluson claimed that Harald led his band of mercenaries in four successful sieges against Sicilian cities. Although each of these four supposed sieges were accomplished through very unique and memorable means, today we will only focus on the third city that Harald attacked.

After taking one city by setting it on fire, and another by tunneling under its walls, Harald Hardrada came across a third city that was populous and wealthy. The settlement was described as having strong walls, a moat, and enough supplies to last through a long siege. In addition, Harald thought that the local garrison in charge of the defense of the city looked competent enough to repel anyone trying to scale the walls with ladders. According to Sturluson, the defenders lined up on their walls and opened their gate, beckoning the invaders to attack. Still wary, the future king held his troops back and made camp.

Instead of storming the city, Harald marched his men over to a spot that was out of range from enemy projectiles and then had his men remove their equipment to start playing sports and games. Harald kept his troops playing these games (in shifts) for several days. With time, the besieged town took interest in the spectacle and people would crowd the walls to have a look at the ongoing competitions. As the days went on, the city grew lazy with its defense—spectators on the walls were unarmed and they would habitually leave their gate open.

On a certain day, the sporting event was being held as usual. This time, however, the competing mercenaries looked a little bulkier than usual; they had on hoods or large hats, and their clothing was looser than usual. The city defenders realized too late that the athletes were wearing helmets under their headgear and had swords stowed away under their tunics. Each soldier that happened to be playing a sport that day suddenly rushed toward the city’s open gateway. The defenders, unprepared and surprised, managed to keep this first wave of attackers from fully entering the city, but they could not close the gate. Then, as planned, Harald Hardrada charged in with his remaining band of fully equipped mercenaries and pushed his way into the city through the opening. The town fell shortly after that, but the assault was said to have been the most costly attack that Harald enacted in Sicily, primarily because the first wave of his soldier-athletes were wearing very little armor when they entered combat.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (A game from the Cantigas de Santa Maria, c. 1280, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• John Skylitzes. A Synopsis of Byzantine History: 811-1057, translated by John Wortley. Original text c. 11^th or early 12^th century. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
• https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/basis/psellus-chrono04.asp 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Harald-III-Sigurdsson 
• http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100130762  

Cynisca, The First Woman In Greece to Win An Olympic Chariot Race

Cynisca was the sister of Agesilaus II, a king of Sparta from about 400 to 360 BCE. Agesilaus was known to help his friends, even if it required corrupt action, so when his sister, Cynisca, became passionate about horse breeding and chariot racing, the king gave her patronage and support.

Driven by her ambition and backed by her family’s wealth, the Spartan princess created one of the most talented horse breeding and training programs in 4th-century Greece. Her chariot teams won glory in the Olympic Games of 396 and 392 BCE, making her the first woman in recorded Greek history to own a victorious Olympic chariot team. The historians, Plutarch (c. 50-120 CE) and Pausanias (143-176 CE), both wrote of her successes. Plutarch’s account presented her only as the trainer and owner of the chariot teams, with no role in the physical operation of the vehicles. Pausanias was more vague in his wording, with a general statement that she won victories at the Olympics. Yet, he, too, did not explicitly credit her with the act of driving the chariot during the race. Nevertheless, she was honored with a statue and a stone inscription at Olympia for her accomplishments. The inscribed stone base still survives today and is on display at the Museum of the Olympic Games in Olympia, Greece.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (The Chariot Race in the Circus Maximus, by Alfredo Tominz (1854–1936), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• On Sparta (Life of Agesilaus), by Plutarch excerpted from his Parallel Lives, translated by Richard J. A. Talbert. New York: Penguin Classics, 2005.
• http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Paus.%203.8.1&lang=original 
• http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Paus.%203.8.1&lang=original 
• http://www.open.edu/openlearn/history-the-arts/world-changing-women-cynisca 
• https://www.encyclopedia.com/women/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/cynisca-fl-396-392-bce 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Pausanias-Greek-geographer 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Plutarch  

The Absolute Cheesiest Tale About Charlemagne

In the 880s, a monk named Notker the Stammerer decided to write about the life of Charlemagne, the famous king of the Franks who took power in 768 and died in 814. Notker, however, was not the king’s first biographer. The Life of Charlemagne by Einhard was written in the 820s and was already a widely read text by the time Notker began writing. Nevertheless, Notker the Stammerer must have felt that Einhard’s text was lacking in one aspect of Charlemagne’s life—religion and the church. In fact, nearly the entire first book of Notker’s Deeds of Charlemagne consisted of numerous bizarre stories told to Notker by a certain cleric named Werinbert. These tales were unfortunately often left devoid of names, locations and dates, so it is difficult to assign any historical validity to the stories of Notker’s first book. Even so, the strange tales are immensely entertaining and can give a window into the mind of a 9th-century author.

One of Notker’s stories told of an anonymous bishop who resided along an inland route that Charlemagne used frequently for his travels. While the king of the Franks was there, the unnamed bishop offered the king his hospitality, supplying food and drink from his own stores. The local church had plenty of supplies to feed the monarch, but there was a problem—the king arrived on the Friday Fast and, as a devout Christian, Charlemagne refused any dish made with meat from land animals or birds. Fish was an acceptable meal for the fast, but as the king was in an inland bishopric, Charlemagne would have been long gone before any seafood could be carted into town. Unfortunately for Charlemagne, all that the bishop could provide on that Friday was cheese.

Surrounded by his attendants and the bishop, Charlemagne prepared for his meal. As the bishop blushed with embarrassment, a wheel of cheese was brought before the king. It was the best cheese that the region had to offer, but it must have looked unappetizing, especially the rough, dry edges of the wheel. According to the tale, Charlemagne withheld any comment and silently cut away the edges, intending to eat only the smooth and creamy center. When the bishop realized what the king was doing, he hesitantly approached and lightly commented that Charlemagne had cut away the best part. It was a comment that the bishop would likely come to regret.

As the tale goes, Charlemagne trusted the bishop and looked for the choicest section of the unseemly hardened ends of the cheese. He cautiously ate the selected piece, slowly but methodically devouring the specimen. When the king finally swallowed the cheese, he enthusiastically turned to the bishop and agreed that the ends were delicious. Charlemagne was so delighted with the taste that he demanded two full carts of the cheese ends to be shipped to his capital at Aachen on an annual basis. The king even specified how the cheese should be shipped: The cheese wheels were to be cut in half, with the best halves going to the king and the lesser sections staying behind to feed the bishopric. The king’s cheese selections would then be skewered together and placed in a barrel, which, in turn, would be placed in the two carts that would carry the cheese to Aachen.

For three years the bishop meticulously carried out Charlemagne’s orders, selecting, barreling and shipping two cart loads of the excellent cheese to Aachen each year. The burden of finding enough pristine cheese to meet the king’s demands was no easy task, yet the bishop always met his quota and usually drove the carts to Aachen himself. After the third annual shipment was received at Aachen, Charlemagne released the dutiful bishop from the job of being the king’s supplier of cheese. Perhaps, Charlemagne recognized the effort it took for the bishop to collect the cheeses, or the king could have simply grown tired of cheese after three years. Whatever the case, Charlemagne rewarded the bishop for his three years of service by adding to his bishopric new tracts of fertile lands, which were pristine for the cultivation of grain and wine vineyards.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (“Still Life With Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels”, by Clara Peeters (1594–), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Two Lives of Charlemagne, by Einhard and Notker the Stammer, translated by David Ganz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.  

The Medieval Tale About The Devil Impersonating A Priest And Giving A Perfect Sermon

The Malleus Maleficarum, published by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger in 1487, was one of the most popular texts on witchcraft and demonic forces during the age of the witch craze. Between sections describing monsters, spells and demonic abilities, the authors of The Malleus Maleficarum included tales of witchcraft that they heard from other inquisitors, or allegedly experienced themselves during their time as active witch-hunters. While most of the stories they recorded focused on the dastardly deeds of witches, some of the tales also contained subtle jabs at the 15th-century religious community.

One humorous criticism of the Christian community was quietly placed into the end of Part II, Question 1, Chapter IX of The Malleus Maleficarum. It comes in the form of a short tale, which took up the space of only one paragraph.

According to the story, an anonymous clergyman went to hear a sermon delivered by an anonymous priest of an anonymous church in an anonymous town. As you can see, names, dates and locations are often lacking in the tales found within The Malleus Maleficarum. Nevertheless, the unnamed clergyman entered the church and took his seat to hear the sermon. As he watched the priest speak, something about preacher’s demeanor made the clergyman in the audience suspect that all was not as it seemed. Somehow, instinct told the attendee that the priest was not a man of God at all, but rather the Devil.

Convinced that Satan was preaching to the congregation, the clergyman listened carefully to every word that the Devil spoke. When the Devil inevitably spoke some blasphemy or heresy, the clergyman planned on denouncing the demonic priest to the congregation, revealing him as Satan. Yet, as the clergyman listened to the sermon, he could find nothing wrong with what the Devil was saying. The theology was correct. The interpretation of scripture was sound. The prescribed advise and religious counsel was pure. Satan channeled his angelic past to deliver the ultimate sermon. To the clergyman’s chagrin, he could not find a single criticism of the Devil’s speech and allowed the sermon to be concluded without interruption.

When the sermon was over and the congregation had funneled out of the church, all that remained in the sanctuary was the priest and the man who had seen the demon within. When confronted, the demonic priest, indeed, confessed that he was Satan. The clergyman conceded that the sermon was perfect, and only asked for an explanation from the Devil as to why he did not deceive the congregation. In response, Satan joked that although he had taught the congregation the way of supreme holiness, none of them would implement his teachings into their lives, making the scheme all the more diabolical.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Saint and the devil, by Michael Pacher (1435–1498), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• From The Malleus Maleficarum by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, translated by Montague Summers (Dover Publications, 1971).

Medieval Inquisitors Believed That Witches Allegedly Collected Living Severed “Members”

The European and colonial witch hunters believed many bizarre ideas about witches, but some theories were more baffling than others. The Malleus Maleficarum, published by the inquisitors Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger around 1487, served as the go-to guide for those who wanted to root out witchcraft for most of the witch-hunting era. In it, the inquisitors wrote about witches, demons, monsters, spells and other miscellaneous dark content. One of the more peculiar spells that witches were able to cast could allegedly make men believe that their manhood was missing. Supposedly, the spell was an illusion that left only smooth skin visible to the victim’s eye. We have already published a small article on that strange magic, HERE. Yet, there was an additional quirk to the spell. The witches, according to the inquisitors, liked to hoard the illusory severed members in hidden locations.

The wording used by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger to describe this bizarre theory in The Malleus Maleficarum is too entertaining to be paraphrased, so it will be quoted here. Witches that used the dismembering spell “sometimes collect male organs in great number, as many as twenty or thirty members together, and put them in a bird’s nest, or shut them up in a box, where they move themselves like living members, and eat oats and corn, as has been seen by many and is a matter of common report” (Part II, Qn 1, ch 7).

In some of the odd tales, the witches who allegedly used spells to make men think that their members were gone would eventually direct the emasculated victims to one of these wriggling hoards. The Malleus Maleficarum reported one account where a witch supposedly instructed one of these memberless men to climb a tree and pick out his lost limb from a crowded nest that was filled with wiggling manhoods. When the unnamed victim chose the largest one in the nest, the witch chastised the man and made him pick again, saying that the one he was holding belonged to a parish priest.

As was stated earlier, the dismembering and the hidden hoards were all allegedly an elaborate illusion. But beware, The Malleus Maleficarum later stated that the Devil was also known to take genitals if the good angels allowed, and when Satan gathered manhood, it was apparently no illusion.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Witches' Sabbath, by Francisco Goya  (1746–1828), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

From The Malleus Maleficarum by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, translated by Montague Summers (Dover Publications, 1971).

Infant Wine Baths In Ancient Sparta

The great scholar, Plutarch (c. 50-120), was a polymath born in Roman-controlled Greece. Though he wrote prolifically on theology, philosophy and other topics, he is best known for his series of biographies on important figures from ancient Greece and Rome, known together as the Parallel Lives. Interestingly, Plutarch’s biographies on the people who shaped the city of Sparta provide much of what we know about daily life in ancient Sparta.

According to Plutarch, a mysterious man named Lycurgus brought about the famous ascetic militancy that came to define ancient Sparta. Plutarch freely admitted that the accounts about Lycurgus presented more of a myth than man, and that accurately dating Lycurgus’ life was nearly impossible. At best, Lycurgus could be said to have lived as far back as the 9th century BCE, in the time of Homer, or as late as the 6th century BCE, when Sparta started to become noticeably more militant and luxury-opposed than their neighbors. No matter the date of Lycurgus’ life, the Spartans attributed their new lifestyle to his teachings.

One of the more notorious elements of the ancient Spartan way of life was how the elders would reportedly decide which newborns lived or died. Plutarch wrote that Lycurgus imposed a system of state-sponsored eugenics, where procreation was encouraged among pairs who would bring about strong children—even if extramarital affairs were required to do so. In this societal model, children were not raised for the sake of a family, but rather for the protection and longevity of Sparta. As such, Plutarch reported that Spartan parents did not have the right to decide if their children were worthy of joining the community. Instead the newborns were brought to a meeting called a lesche, where the elders would determine the fate of the child. Plutarch wrote that, if healthy, the child was guaranteed a portion of land and was approved for upbringing. If the elders disliked what they saw, the newborn was condemned to abandonment at Apothetae, “the place of rejection,” located near Mount Taygetus.

Even though the fate of their child was out of their hands, Plutarch wrote that some Spartan mothers were impatient, or perhaps anxious, about the lesche and therefore devised their own tests to evaluate the vigor of their infants. In one such test, the baby was bathed not in water, but in undiluted wine. According to Plutarch, the mothers could get a sense of their child’s fate based on the baby’s reaction to the potent alcohol. Lycurgus’ ideal baby supposedly would endure the stinging, staining and powerful fumes, while the weak would allegedly lose control of their senses or stiffen in discomfort.

Despite the obvious ethical issues with the extreme Spartan attitude toward children, Plutarch wrote that nurses from the Spartan culture were coveted in other regions of Greece. The Spartan nursemaids had talents that any parent would dream about—Plutarch listed that they were skilled at teaching children not to be fussy about their food, could root out childhood fears of the dark and even specialized in stopping temper tantrums and fits of crying. Nevertheless, these enviable abilities by far did not make up for the horrid system of Spartan child culling.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Wine selling advertisement and prices, "Ad Cucumas" shop, ancient roman painting in Herculaneum, Italy. [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• On Sparta (Life of Lycurgus), by Plutarch excerpted from his Parallel Lives, translated by Richard J. A. Talbert. New York: Penguin Classics, 2005.
• https://www.britannica.com/topic/Parallel-Lives
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Plutarch 
• https://www.ancient.eu/sparta/
• https://www.britannica.com/place/Sparta