Tuesday, December 31, 2019

Hesiod’s Poetic Encounter With The Muses On Mount Helicon



Hesiod, an 8th-century BCE Greek contemporary of Homer, left for posterity several tidbits of personal information about his own life, which he wove into his timeless poetic works. Therefore, we know that Hesiod’s father originally came from the Aeolian city of Cyme, but that he sailed across the Aegean to settle in the town of Ascra, just to the east of Mount Helicon in Boeotia, Greece. Ascra was likely where Hesiod was born, and he grew up on a farm that his father built there. Hesiod spent much of his early life tending to his family’s farm, which was seemingly devoted to raising sheep on the mountainside. Therefore, Hesiod spent his youthful years shepherding his father’s livestock. The future poet had a brother named Perses, who ideally could have shared the duties of the day, but Hesiod described this sibling as a foolish and troublesome individual with a poor work ethic. All in all, life in Ascra was apparently a bittersweet experience for Hesiod. On a positive note, he found ample beauty and inspiration on the slopes of Mount Helicon. Yet, in his poem, Works and Days, he vented about his “miserable village, Ascra,” which he unflatteringly described as “bad in weather, foul in summer, good at no time” (line 640).

Despite Hesiod’s struggle to appreciate his hometown of Ascra, he had no lack of admiration towards Mount Helicon. While spending time on the mountainside with his lambs, Hesiod could feel close to the gods, particularly to Zeus, to whom an altar was built on the mountain, and to the Muses, who apparently saw Mount Helicon as an alternative home when they needed a break from the other gods on Mount Olympus.  The Muses, claimed Hesiod, could often be found there bathing in the mountain’s streams, or singing and dancing on the slopes. With both devout Hesiod and the generous Muses sharing the same mountain space, it was inevitable that a divine encounter would occur, one that would greatly influence Greek religion and literature.

As Hesiod tells it, he was nothing but a simple shepherd, with no talent in oratory, poetry or writing until he had a fateful encounter on Mount Helicon. One day, claimed Hesiod, nine Muses named Clio, Euterpe, Thaleia, Melpomene, Terpsichore, Erato, Polyhymnia, Urania and Calliope appeared before him and offered Hesiod the gift of poetry. On this alleged encounter, Hesiod wrote, “they breathed into me wondrous voice, so that I should celebrate things of the future and things that were aforetime. And they told me to sing of the family of blessed ones who are for ever, and first and last always to sing of themselves” (Theogony, line 31). In addition to giving the poet honeyed words, a silver tongue, and a penchant for verse, the Muses also taught Hesiod about the gods—starting, of course, with themselves—and as a graduation present for his successful crash course on everything divine, they also gave the fledgling poet a staff, which he wielded proudly.

Such was the way Hesiod claimed to have become a poet. Of course, readers interpret it in different ways. Skeptics might say he learned indirectly from the muses, studying from poets who passed through Boeotia, and then reflected on and improved upon these lyrical innovations while shepherding on the slopes of the inspiring Mount Helicon. Those who are religiously inclined, however, may infer that Hesiod truly had some sort of spiritual epiphany while he was out in the wilderness and that it inspired his poetry. Whatever the case, it makes a good and entertaining story, which, in the end, was one of Hesiod’s goals.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Hesiod and the Muse painted by Gustave Moreau  (1826–1898), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • Theogony and Works and Days by Hesiod, translated by M. L. West. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988, 1999, 2008.
  • http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Hes.+Th.+30&fromdoc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0130 
  • http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Hes.+WD+632&fromdoc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0132 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Hesiod  

Sunday, December 29, 2019

The Humiliating Exit Of King Childebert’s Envoys To King Guntram



In the 6th century, the Frankish Empire was divided among several kings of the Merovingian Dynasty, all ruling at the same time. Sometimes, they would work together against neighboring powers. Yet, they also fought amongst themselves, and when they were not in open civil war, they plotted against each other from the shadows. King Guntram of Burgundy (r. 561-593) began his reign in partnership with three brothers, and all four of the siblings controlled portions of their late father’s empire. Of the three brothers with whom Guntram shared power, only one, King Charibert, was said to have met a natural death. His other two siblings, King Sigebert and King Chilperic, were both stabbed to death by assassins in 575 and 584 respectively. Sigibert was succeeded by his son, Childebert II (r. 575-596), who was only five years old at the time, and Chilperic was succeeded by his infant son Chlotar II (r. 584-629), who was born the very same year his father was assassinated. Thus, with the death of Chilperic in 584, the last survivor among the original four brothers, King Guntram, became the undisputed patriarch of the Merovingian Dynasty, ruling alongside two young nephews, one a teenager and the other an infant.

King Childebert II, although only about fourteen years old in 584, showed ambition at an early age, and he, like his younger rival, Chlotar II, had an extremely competent mother, as well as a court of dukes and counts ready to fight for their liege. Childebert II had long been an ally of Guntram against the erratic and hostile ways of the late king King Chilperic, but in the years just prior to Chilperic’s assassination, Childebert had defected to Chilperic’s side and plotted attacks against Guntram. These attacks were fended off by Guntram and a truce between uncle and nephew was reached. From then on, Guntram, despite the ceasefire, understandably had a more distant and skeptical relationship with Childebert II, so, when news of Chilperic’s assassination spread in 584, Guntram acted immediately to make sure that he personally had a strong advantage against the realms of his fellow Merovingian kings. He occupied Paris and also sent troops to take over lands that had once belonged to Childebert’s father, Sigebert, including the areas around Tours and Poitiers. King Guntram also brought young Chlotar II under his protection and sheltered the infant king’s mother, Queen Fredegund. Both of these moves angered young Childebert II; he felt he had more right than Guntram to the lands once controlled by Sigebert, and he also wanted custody of Fredegund, for she had participated in the assassinations of Childebert’s father and aunt.

Not long after Guntram’s occupation of Paris, Tours, Poitiers and other regions, King Childebert II sent a group of bishops, dukes and counts from his realm to negotiate with King Guntram about possibly transferring Sigebert’s old land to Childebert II, and they also asked for Fredegund to be handed over so that she would face justice for murder. Obviously, King Guntram was not interested in either of these requests, and the debate between the king and the envoys became quite testy. At one point in the heated discussions, one of the diplomats made the horrid mistake of threatening Guntram with assassination. This was not something that Guntram took lightly—after all, two of his co-king brothers had been assassinated, and another of his brothers, Chramn, had been murdered before they succeeded their father. Also, many numbers of Guntram’s uncles, nephews, cousins and kinsmen had died due to intrigue or simply in civil war against one another. As such, Guntram understandably felt great fear and paranoia at the thought of assassinations, and such talk instantly caused him to cease negotiations and to throw the envoys out of the city.

Guntram, quite bitter and angry about the threat of assassination, prepared a spectacularly messy and humiliating exit for Childebert’s rude diplomats. The peculiar scene was described by Bishop (and historian) Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), who wrote of the incident in his History of the Franks, stating, “He ordered decaying horse-dung to be flung over their heads as they went, wood-chips, straw and hay which had gone mouldy, and even stinking mud from the town-gutters. They were spattered all over with what was thrown at them, and they went their way beyond measure outraged and insulted” (History of the Franks, VII.14).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Punishment of Korah and Stoning of Moses, by Sandro Botticelli (c. 15th century), [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/Guntram-king-of-Burgundy 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Chlotar-II 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Childebert-II  

Thursday, December 26, 2019

The Tale of Priestess-Architect Aristarcha And Her Dream Blueprints



Greek settlers from the city of Phocaea colonized southern France, founding the city of Massilia (modern Marseilles) in 600 BCE or earlier. Folklore, legend and myth about the city and its foundation abound, and the Roman geographer Strabo (64 BCE-21 CE) was one of the many authors to write down a folkloric story about Massilia’s creation. His tale, however, did not focus on the colonial expedition’s leaders, or the political intrigue that the Greek sailors found themselves in once they reached the French coast. Strabo, instead, presented a story about a woman who was chosen by the goddess Artemis (or Diana for the Romans) as the architect for one of the first temples in the fledgling colony of Massilia.

According to Strabo, the Phocaean colonizers of Massilia were approached by an oracle before they departed from their original Ionian homeland. This oracle reportedly encouraged the settlers to stop by Ephesus before they left the Aegean Sea. The oracle claimed that a person was living in the city whom the goddess, Artemis, wished would accompany the Phocaeans on their journey. Heeding the advice of the oracle, the expedition from Phocaea stopped by the city of Ephesus, but upon their arrival they realized that they did not know how to locate Artemis’ champion. Evidently, Artemis took matters into her own hands. According to Strabo, “The goddess appeared in a dream to Aristarcha, one of the most honourable women of the city, and commanded her to accompany the Phocaeans, and to take with her a plan of the temple and statues” (Geography, IV.1.4). Pious Aristarcha (a name that might be an early cult title or honorific) gathered the materials that Artemis directed her to bring and then presented herself to the loitering Phocaeans. After convincing them of her authenticity, Aristarcha joined their expedition and journeyed with them into the Mediterranean.

When the settlers reached the site where they would build Massilia, they soon began constructing a temple to Artemis based on Aristarcha’s blueprints. This temple, with its ties to Ephesus, was eventually called the Ephesium, and Aristarcha reportedly became the temple’s first priestess.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Diana the Huntress painted by Guillaume Seignac (1870–1924), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • Strabo’s Geography, translated by H.C. Hamilton and W. Falconer (1903 edition), republished in The Complete Works of Strabo (Delphi Classics, 2016).
  • https://www.ancient.eu/massilia/ 
  • https://www.britannica.com/place/Marseille/Administration-and-social-conditions#ref12516  

Monday, December 23, 2019

The Early Politics Of Earl Godwine And His Interesting Apology Gift To King Hardecanute



Earl Godwine of Wessex was one of the great power-players in 11th-century England. In that time of wild monarchal regime changes, Godwine was able to thrive. He navigated, sometimes with difficulty and bloodshed, between the various conquerors, usurpers and successors who claimed the throne of England. Godwine was appointed Earl of Wessex by King Canute the Great around 1018, after the Danish nobleman had outlasted the Anglo-Saxon monarchs Æthelred the Unready (d. 1016) and Edmund Ironside (d. 1016) in a war over the throne of England. Godwine watched as Canute spread his domain out from England to encompass Denmark and Norway, a kingdom for each of Canute’s three known sons: Harold Harefoot, Sweyn and Hardecanute. Hardecanute was reportedly the only legitimate heir of the brothers, yet Canute gave the other brothers governance roles. Sweyn was sent to oversee Norway and Hardecanute was appointed to rule Denmark, while Harold Harefoot remained behind in England, where he became quite close with the English nobility. When King Canute suddenly died in 1035, with succession not fully clear, savvy nobles such as Earl Godwine must have known the following years would be apt for intrigue.

Hardecanute easily maintained control over Denmark after his father’s death, but politics in England would prove much more difficult. In particular, Harold Harefoot was rallying English support in his own bid to seize the throne. Immediately after the death of Canute, Earl Godwine joined the faction that supported Hardecanute for the throne of England. During this time, the earl worked closely with Hardecanute’s mother Queen Emma, the twice-widowed Norman noblewoman who had been married first to Æthelred the Unready and, second, to King Canute. Together, Godwine and the queen were able to quarantine Harold Harefoot’s power to the position of co-ruler with Hardecanute, or possibly regent. Yet, Earl Godwine could sense that he was on the losing side in England, and before 1036, he defected to the faction of Harold.

After joining the camp of Harold Harefoot, Earl Godwine quickly showed that he was willing to get his hands dirty. He was unfortunately implicated in one of the most gruesome events of the power struggle between Queen Emma and Harold Harefoot—in 1036, Alfred, one of Queen Emma’s sons by the late Æthelred, was kidnapped in England by Godwine and other members of Harold Harefoot’s faction. While in their custody, Alfred was allegedly tortured and mutilated to such an extent that he died of his wounds. The horrible death of Alfred showed the growing advantage of Harold Harefoot in England, and, by 1037, Harold was able to proclaim himself sole king of England, forcing Queen Emma to seek shelter in Flanders.

Unfortunately for Harold Harefoot, fate gave him very little time to enjoy his victory in England. Harold died in 1040 and was succeeded by Hardecanute. Upon arriving in England, Hardecanute was apparently so irate at his late brother’s successes, that he had Harold’s body dug up and rudely tossed the remains into a wetland, a sewer, or the Thames.

Although Hardecanute cared little about the death of Harold Harefoot, he was more protective of his other half-brothers, especially those born to his mother, Queen Emma. This put Earl Godwine in an awkward situation, as he had personally played a role in the torture and mutilation that had led to the death of Hardecanute’s half-brother, Alfred, in 1036. In order to apologize to the new king, Earl Godwine pulled together a mixture of showmanship and wealth in hopes of gaining Hardecanute’s forgiveness. The gift-giving feat of Earl Godwine was described in fine detail by the Chronicle of Florence of Worcester: 

“Godwin, to obtain the king’s favour, presented him with a galley of admirable workmanship, with a gilded figure-head, rigged with the best materials, and manned with eighty chosen soldiers splendidly armed. Every one of them had on each arm a golden bracelet weighing six ounces, and wore a triple coat of mail and a helmet partly gilt, and a sword with gilded hilt girt to his side, and a Danish battle-axe inlaid with gold and silver hanging from his left shoulder; in his left hand he bore a shield, the boss and studs of which were also gilt, and in his right hand a lance” (Florence of Worcester, AD 1040).

After this floating gift-basket was presented to Hardecanute, Earl Godwine reportedly gave the king a typical ‘I was only following orders’ excuse for his part in the death of Alfred. King Hardecanute apparently accepted the apology, and Earl Godwine was allowed to continue building his family’s power in England, ultimately setting up his son, Harold Godwinson, to eventually participate in the famous multi-pronged power struggle for the throne of England in 1066.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Scene showing Walter Espec and William of Albemarle, illustrated by James William Edmund Doyle (1822–1892), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

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

Sunday, December 22, 2019

The Revenge Of Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth Of Orkney Against The Viking, Eyvind Úrarhorn



Eyvind Úrarhorn was a Norwegian man-of-action who supported King Olaf II Haraldsson of Norway (aka St. Olaf, r. 1015-1028) by doing such tasks as hunting down unwanted Vikings in Norwegian waters and forcing out foreign tax collectors who were trying to extort King Olaf’s borderland subjects. In 1018, however, Eyvind Úrarhorn decided to take a break from his domestic duties to go raiding abroad. His Viking expedition brought him to the British Isles, and after some pillaging, Eyvind apparently signed his crew up as mercenaries for a certain King Connor in Ireland. Unfortunately for Eyvind Úrarhorn, the contract with the Irish king brought him into hostile contact with another Viking crew that was skulking around Ireland. In the fall of 1018, Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth of Orkney (r. 1014-1020) appeared in Ireland and clashed with the Irish King Connor. Eyvind Úrarhorn, heeding his mercenary contract, joined the Irish side in the battle and fought against the army from Orkney.

King Connor and Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth met in battle at Lough Larne, in Northern Ireland. According to the accounts of the Orkneyinga Saga and the Heimskringla, King Connor won a great victory that day and forced the jarl of Orkney to retreat. The Orkneyinga Saga, describing the battle from Jarl Einar’s point of view, claimed it was a “crushing defeat with heavy loss of life” (chapter 15). The rebuffed Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth was sorely aware that a band of Norwegian mercenaries had aided King Connor during the battle, and although the jarl may not have known who commanded the mercenaries at the time, he was determined to discover who led the group and to seek revenge. For the meantime, however, Eyvind Úrarhorn enjoyed the victory and spent the rest of the year without any harassment from Orkney.

By the summer of 1019, Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth had learned of Eyvind’s part in the battle at Lough Larne, and he was keeping his agents busy searching for the Norwegian. It was at this inopportune time that Eyvind Úrarhorn decided to return home to Norway. In a curious move, Eyvind made the bold decision to plot his course past Orkney during his return trip. He might have been able to get away with this move if fate had been kinder, but the weather betrayed Eyvind Úrarhorn, forcing his ship to make landfall. Of all the places he could have been driven ashore, Eyvind was unlucky enough to find himself beached at a place called Osmundwall, located in the southern section of the Orkney archipelago.

Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth soon learned about Eyvind Úrarhorn’s presence in Orkney and he quickly mobilized his fleet, eager to exact his revenge. Before Eyvind could set sail, the jarl’s fleet descended on the Norwegian Vikings and caught them by surprise. In the encounter that ensued, there was not much of a battle, and Jarl Einar was allegedly able to take the stranded crew captive without any difficulty. According to both the Orkneyinga Saga and the Heimskringla, Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth used the situation to execute Eyvind Úrarhorn. With the Viking leader’s death, the jarl’s drive for vengeance was sated, and he ultimately let most of Eyvind’s crew return home. When King Olaf II of Norway learned of his friend’s death, he took no official act against Orkney, although he did begin to show public support for Einar’s rivals on the Orkney Islands, especially for Einar’s brother, Jarl Thorfinn the Mighty (r. 1014-1064), who traveled to Norway to meet with King Olaf II in 1020. During that very year, King Olaf II was likely pleased to learn that Einar Wry-Mouth was murdered by one of Jarl Thorfinn’s associates before the end of 1020.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Scenes from the Bayeux Tapestry, [Public Domain] via flickr.com and Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • Orkneyinga Saga, written anonymously approximately c. 1200, translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. New York: Penguin Classics, 1981.
  • Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.  

Thursday, December 19, 2019

Hernán Cortés Reportedly Burned 17 Aztec Military Leaders To Death During Montezuma’s Captivity



On November 8, 1519, Hernán Cortés and his band of conquistadors entered the Aztec capital city, Tenochtitlan, where they met Montezuma II, the leader of the Aztecs at that time. Cortés and Montezuma were able to maintain a cordial relationship for a while, as the Aztec ruler invited the Spaniards to his feasts, allowed them to build a chapel, and let the conquistadors tour the city’s markets and temples in peace. Yet, both sides were naturally suspicious of the other, and while Cortés and Montezuma were acting amiably in public, both were secretly plotting ways to gain an advantage over their rival.

Cortés and the Spaniards especially feared that Montezuma would one day withdraw his protection and order an attack, leaving the conquistadors surrounded by foes in a hostile labyrinth of a city. Such paranoia caused the Spaniards to start brainstorming ways to gain leverage over the Aztecs. They eventually decided upon a bold plan to take Montezuma hostage, yet they hesitated in carrying out their mission, presumably waiting for some affront to occur which would justify their action.

The spark that the Spaniards were waiting for did not occur in Tenochtitlan, but back at the Spanish colony of Veracruz. Hernán Cortés had founded the settlement before marching off to Tenochtitlan, and a certain Juan Escalante was deputized as the constable of the colony during Cortés’ absence.  While Cortés was doing his part in Tenochtitlan, Escalante was seeing to Spanish interests at the colony, which brought him into contact with a leader named Qualpopoca, who led an Aztec-aligned city that the Spaniards called Almeria. In the so-called Second Letter that Hernán Cortés sent back to his liege, Charles V, it was reported that Qualpopoca deceived Escalante into thinking that Almeria wanted to submit to Spanish rule. Four Spaniards from Veracruz were sent to Almeria to negotiate with Qualpopoca, but upon their arrival, the Veracruz diplomats were ambushed and two were killed. The surviving two fled back to Escalante, who immediately gathered forces to seek revenge. According to Cortés’ Second Letter, Escalante marched with a force of 40 or 50 conquistadors (aided by thousands of allied natives) against Almeria.

Escalante’s battle at Almeria is a difficult event to gauge. Hernán Cortés, in his Second Letter, downplayed the battle to his liege, telling Charles V that the campaign against Almeria was a straight-forward success, in which Escalante crushed Qualpopoca’s army, forced the enemy to abandon the city, and then burned Almeria to the ground. Bernal Díaz del Castillo, one of Cortés’ conquistadors, had a vastly different view of the battle, which he presented in his Conquest of New Spain. In total disagreement with Cortés, Bernal Díaz claimed that the battle at Almeria was a defeat and disaster suffered by the Spaniards. Far from a steamrolling of Qualpopoca’s forces, the clash at Almeria was apparently a brutal battle. According to Bernal Díaz, a great number of Escalante’s native allies died in the attack, and around 8 of the 40-50 Spaniards who participated in the attack died from wounds sustained at Almeria—Escalante, himself, was one of those who would succumb to his wounds. Furthermore, the conquistadors’ poor showing at the battle reportedly boosted morale of the Aztecs and demoralized the communities that had been working with Veracruz. To conclude his summary of the Battle at Almeria, Bernal Díaz wrote, “It was the first defeat we had suffered in New Spain, and misfortunes, as the reader will see, were now descending upon us” (Conquest of New Spain, chapter 93-94).

Although Cortés downplayed the events of Almeria in his letter to Charles V, his actions in Tenochtitlan when he learned of the battle show that his true impression of the attack was much more aligned with Bernal Díaz than the letter let on. News of Almeria and Escalante’s death spurred Cortés and the conquistadors in Tenochtitlan to launch their plot to take Montezuma hostage. They successfully kidnapped the Aztec leader, and one of the first demands they made of their royal captive was for Montezuma to summon to Tenochtitlan Qualpopoca and other chiefs involved in the Almeria incident. According to Cortés’ Second Letter, 17 chieftains answered Montezuma’s summons, including Qualpopoca and one of his sons. They apparently did not suspect that anything was amiss, for Qualpopoca entered the city leisurely, carried on a lordly litter. Their ignorance, however, did not last long—under pressure from his conquistador captors, Montezuma had the 17 military leaders arrested and handed them over to Cortés.

According to both Hernán Cortés and Bernal Díaz, the imprisoned chieftains were interrogated (and probably tortured), and the questions of the interrogators pried for information as to how involved Montezuma was in Qualpopoca’s hostile actions. The chieftains started out by acknowledging that they were loyal to the Aztec ruler, but also insisted that Montezuma was not directly involved in the Almeria attack. As the interrogation persisted, however, the chieftains began to change their story to implicate Montezuma more and more. Satisfied with their answers, Hernán Cortés was ready to pronounce the punishment for the leaders who had killed his friend, Escalante—it would be brutal.

When it came to punishing the leaders of the Almeria incident, Hernán Cortés did not simply want recompense or apology; instead, he wanted to take the opportunity to display his power and to instill terror on the city of Tenochtitlan. What Cortés did next apparently even caught Montezuma completely off guard, and he would react worse to this decision than he had to being kidnapped by the Spaniards. Bernal Díaz vividly described the fate of the 17 chieftains in his Conquest of New Spain:

 “Cortés sentenced the captains [of Almeria] to be burned to death before the royal palace. This sentence was immediately carried out and, to prevent any interference, Cortes had Montezuma put in chains while they were being burned. The prince roared with anger at this indignity, and became even more alarmed than before” (Conquest of New Spain, chapter 95).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (The Torture of Cuahutemoc, painted in the late 19th-century by Leandro Izaguirre, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • The Conquest of New Spain by Bernal Díaz, translated by J. M. Cohen. New York: Penguin Books, 1963.
  • https://archive.org/details/lettersofcorts01cortuoft/page/240 
  • https://www.gutenberg.org/files/32474/32474-h/32474-h.htm 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Montezuma-II 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Hernan-Cortes 
  • https://www.ancient.eu/Montezuma/  

Wednesday, December 18, 2019

The Opportunistic Ascendance Of Wei Man In Korean Chaoxian




Prior to the ascendance of the Qin Dynasty (221-206 BCE) over the kingdoms of ancient China, the Chinese Kingdom of Yan had spread its influence past the Yalu River into the Korean Peninsula. When King Zheng of Qin (the eventual First Emperor) captured King Xi of Yan in 222 BCE, the Korean holdings of Yan were absorbed by the growing Qin Empire. The Qin Dynasty, however, did not enjoy supremacy in China for long—massive rebellions broke out in 209 BCE, toppling the Qin emperors by 206 BCE. Civil war then broke out between the successful rebellion leaders, and from the ashes came Emperor Gaozu, who killed or subjugated all of his rival warlords by 202 BCE and founded the Han Dynasty. Emperor Gaozu appointed his childhood friend, Lu Wan, as a vassal king of Yan, including control of Yan’s Korean territory. Lu Wan abandoned his kingdom, however, and defected to the nomadic Xiongnu in 195 BCE, leaving a power vacuum in Yan, especially on the Korean frontier. It was then that a mysterious figure named Wei Man (or Wiman) made his bid for power in the unclaimed Korean lands formerly held by the Kingdom of Yan.

Little is known about the origins of Wei Man. He appears to have been a man of wealth and influence in the Yan-Korean region, but we have no knowledge about how he lived before 195 BCE. Whatever the case, he reportedly had the means and charisma to raise a personal army of over 1,000 men in the aftermath of Lu Wan’s defection, and he used this force to begin taking control of the communities of Northern Korea. Knowing that he would not be able to maintain control with a small garrison of 1,000 men, Wei Man actively assimilated himself into the culture of the natives he wished to rule. He stylized his hair and his wardrobe to make himself more palatable to the Korean population, and apparently succeeded in winning over Koreans to join his army and to support his regime. To further add to his numbers, Wei Man made an effort to recruit refugees who fled from the Han Dynasty. With this coalition of his personal army, Chinese refugees, and native supporters, Wei Man gained control of a sizable chunk of northern Korea, and eventually set up his base of operations at Wangxian (modern Pyongyang). With land and power consolidated under his rule, Wei Man declared himself King of Chaoxian (or Chosŏn), named after the Chinese designation for the land located east of the Yalu River.

Wei Man’s curious rise to power was noticed by the Han government, especially by the governors of Liaodong Province, who administered Han lands that bordered Chaoxian.  Despite this awareness, the Han authorities decided not to interfere in Wei Man’s power-grab over lands that at one point had been under Chinese imperial control. Fortunately for the upstart king of Chaoxian, the early Han rulers were inwardly-focused and more intent on consolidating and enforcing their authority on the kingdoms in the heartland of their empire, rather than expanding imperial influence into the fringe frontiers or beyond. As a result, Emperor Gaozu and his immediate successors tried to keep foreign wars to a minimum, so that they could spend their time and effort on domestic politics and policy. With this philosophy in mind, the early Han emperors made peace with the Xiongnu nomads, and condoned the existence of upstart kingdoms born on the frontiers of the collapsed Qin Empire, as was the case with both the Kingdom of Southern Yue (in the Vietnam area) and Wei Man’s Kingdom of Chaoxian in Korea. The earliest Han Emperors were content to offer these frontier kingdoms peace in exchange for non-aggression pacts and some diplomatic shows of deference.

With Han recognition of his authority as king of Chaoxian, Wei Man continued to gain power, wealth and territory in Korea. He turned his regime into a hereditary monarchy that would continue to rule the kingdom of Chaoxian independently from Han authority for many more decades. The kingdom, however, would ultimately fall when Chaoxian was invaded and conquered by the expansionist Emperor Wu of Han in a war which took place from 109-108 BCE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Emperor Kangxi on an inspection tour, painted by Wang Hui (1632–1717), [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.
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Wiman