The Tale Of How Pericles Consoled A Sailor Frightened By An Eclipse

Pericles (c. 495-429 BCE) was the leading figure in Athens at the start of the Peloponnesian War (c. 431-404 BCE). During the first years of the war, both sides attacked their opponent using the strategy they were most comfortable with—the Spartan-led Peloponnesians invaded enemy territory by land, while the Athenians mobilized their navy and raided the Peloponnesian coast by sea. With this strategy in mind, Pericles gathered 100 Athenian ships and 50 allied vessels, loaded with thousands of heavy infantry and hundreds of bowmen and cavalry. Yet, as Pericles was preparing his forces for war, the cosmos threw in his path one of the most ominous and supernaturally-significant omens known to the ancient world—a solar eclipse. Thucydides (c. 460-400 BCE) dated this eclipse to the first year of campaigns in 431 BCE, while the Greek-Roman biographer, Plutarch (c. 50-120 CE), claimed this took place just before Pericles’ second campaign, in 430 BCE, at which time the Athenians tried and failed to besiege the city of Epidaurus.  Whatever the case, Pericles’ navy reportedly witnessed this ominous solar event, and the Athenian leader had to act quickly to keep the morale of his sailors from plummeting.

Thucydides described the eclipse itself, writing “there was an eclipse of the sun after midday. The sun took on the appearance of a crescent and some of the stars became visible before it returned to its normal shape” (History of the Peloponnesian War, Book II, section 28). Plutarch, using whatever sources were at his disposal, wrote about how the eclipse affected the Athenian navy. He wrote, “it happened that the sun was eclipsed, and it grew dark on a sudden, to the affright of all, for this was looked upon as extremely ominous” (Plutarch, Life of Pericles, 35.1). Of the Athenian sailors who were frightened by the event, Pericles’ own flagship steersman displayed some of the worst symptoms; the solar eclipse left him frozen in shock and paralyzed by fear. This stupefied sailor, thankfully, would soon be saved by his captain’s quick thinking and reasoning.

As the story goes, Pericles was able to calm his panicking steersman using a tried-and-true calming method used on all forms of animals, to this day. To snap the sailor back into reality, Pericles used sensory deprivation—specifically blocking the man’s sight. Pericles, it was said, grabbed a nearby cloak and held it in front of the steersman’s eyes. If he was in a particularly dramatic mood, perhaps the Athenian leader tossed the cloak over the sailor’s head, as if it were a birdcage. Once the sight-deprived sailor had begun to calm down, Pericles then began whittling away at the man’s fears through reason, explaining that the solar eclipse, while indeed dramatic, was no more dangerous or ominous than the simple cloak that was before his eyes. Plutarch claimed that this tale, including Pericles’ reasoning, became a favorite story that Athenian philosophers started to teach their students.

Yet, for the Athenians at the time, they likely would have thought that the ill omen of the solar eclipse was justified in their case. The naval expeditions against the Peloponnesus in 431 and 430 BCE were inconclusive, and, even worse, a deadly plague hit Athens in 430 BCE that wiped out a large portion of the city’s population. Pericles, too, died not long after the eclipse, breathing his last in 429 BCE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Scene from the life of Gelon, painted by Michele Panebianco (1806–1873), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Plutarch’s Lives edited by Charles W. Eliot in the Harvard Classics series. New York: P. F. Collier & Son, 1909, 1937.
• History of the Peloponnesian War by Thucydides, translated by Rex Warner and introduced by M. I. Finley. New York: Penguin Classics, 1972. 
• http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Plutarch/Lives/Pericles*.html#ref:eclipse_of_Pericles 
• http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Gazetteer/Topics/astronomy/_Texts/secondary/journals/The_Observatory/Eclipse_of_Pericles*.html 
• https://eclipse.gsfc.nasa.gov/SEsearch/SEsearchmap.php?Ecl=-04300803

Crocell—An Underwhelming Demon Who Supposedly Excels At Warming Baths

Crocell, according to occultists, is a spiritual being or demon with powers related to water. According to legend, he was one of 72 demons supposedly controlled by the biblical King Solomon. These demons, listed and described in a peculiar grimoire called the Lemegeton (or the Lesser Key of Solomon) are said to have all sorts of flashy abilities, including teleportation, fortune telling, control of weather, physical transformation, emotion manipulation, the spreading of disease, and the poltergeist-like ability to topple structures by sheer spiritual force. Poor Crocell, however, is not said to wield any of these powers.

In appearance and ability, Crocell comes across as a humble demon with humble powers. Whereas other spirits in the Lemegeton are described as having monstrous shapes, riding on bizarre mounts, and having gravelly voices, Crocell apparently has no steed and prefers to be seen in his original angelic fallen-angel appearance. As said earlier, Crocell’s abilities are said to be connected to water. For one, he can make the sound of water fill the air, even when there is no water present. Besides that, the Lemegeton claims Crocell can additionally “warmeth Waters, and discovereth Baths” (Lesser Key of Solomon, Shemhamphorash, 49). If finding and warming baths were not enough, Crocell also apparently is quite good at geometry. While these abilities are not as grandiose as teleportation or the power to smite cities, Crocell’s bath warming prowess supposedly has earned him dominion over 48 legions of lesser spirits.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: ('Imperial' porcelain roll-rim bath. Plate 1090-G, (c. late 19th century) and an image from The Violet Fairy Book (1906), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Three Magical Books of Solomon by Crowley, Mathers and Conybear. Vega Publishing, 2019 (original publications c. 1888, 1898, 1904. 
• https://www.sacred-texts.com/grim/lks/lks05.htm 
• https://www.sacred-texts.com/grim/lks/index.htm  

The Eerie Book Of Settlements Entry For Thorkel Farserk

Thorkel Farserk was a 10th-century Icelander who was a cousin and contemporary of Eirik the Red. The two cousins were close, and when Eirik the Red set out to colonize Greenland around 985, Thorkel was one of the men who signed on for the adventure. Upon arriving in the new land, he set up a home in a fjord near Eirik the Red’s settlement and reportedly started a dynasty that for centuries ruled the land around his homestead. Interestingly, Thorkel’s relationship with Eirik the Red and his participation in the colonization of Greenland were not what he was best known for by the medieval Icelanders. Instead, he was remembered as being a superhuman figure who possessed uncanny abilities both in life and in death.

As described in the Book of Settlements, Thorkel Farserk was “a man of unusual powers” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 93). Much of his uncanny power was apparently physical in nature, such as limitless endurance and a resistance to cold. He performed his most famous alleged feat of strength on a day when Eirik the Red visited Thorkel’s home for a social gathering. Thorkel Farserk may have been superhuman, but he was also a terrible event planner—when Eirik’s arrival was imminent, Thorkel discovered, with shock, that he had no presentable food on hand at his dwelling and no ship nearby with which he could quickly reach his livestock, which were grazing on an island that lay over a mile off-shore. Without a boat, the swath of icy water was an intimidating obstacle that potentially blocked Thorkel from saving his feast and reputation. He, however, was (according to legend) a cold-resistant, supernaturally-gifted man with Herculean strength, so Thorkel Farserk simply dove into the water and swam the mile-long distance to the sheep-inhabited isle. He then picked out the animal of his choice, jumped back into the water with the sheep on his back, and retraced the mile-long journey through the cold water until he reached home.

When Thorkel Farserk eventually died, his legend and reputation continued to grow. According to Folklore, he did not rest in peace, but instead chose to haunt his lands in perpetuity. As the Book of Settlements eerily phrased it, “Thorkel was buried in the enclosure of Hvalseyjarfjord, and has been there, round about the house, ever since” (Landnámabók, Sturlubók manuscript, chapter 93).

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (swimming scene from the saga of Olaf Tryggvason, illustrated by Halfdan Egedius (1877–1899), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Book of Settlements (Sturlubók version) translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1972, 2006.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Erik-the-Red 
• https://www.biography.com/explorer/erik-the-red  

The Lightning Curse Of The Volga Bulgars

An Abbasid diplomat named Ibn Fadlān traveled northward between the Caspian and Aral Seas to reach the Volga Bulgars around May 922. The diplomat found them living in yurts and tents at a seasonal market location along the Volga River. The khan of the Volga Bulgars was a recent convert to Islam, and thousands of his people converted with him. Yet, many of the Volga Bulgar people retained their original Tengri faith, and recent converts were slow to leave behind their traditional customs and superstitions.

One such superstition that Ibn Fadlān witnessed during his stay with the Volga Bulgars involved lighting. Like many cultures, the Volga Bulgars considered lightning to be an omen—in their case, a bad omen. If lightning struck one of their tents, the Volga Bulgars reportedly treated the spot as if it were infested with plague. The tent was abandoned, and all of the items that happened to have been inside the tent at the time of the strike were left behind. Even humans who survived such a strike were reportedly shunned and left behind. On this interesting tradition, Ibn Fadlān wrote:

“I have never seen more lightning than in their country. When it strikes a tent, they do not go near it again but leave it as it is, together with anything that is inside it—men, goods or other things—until time has destroyed them. They say that it is a tent upon which the wrath of God has fallen” (Ibn Fadlān, Risala, Penguin edition pg. 37)

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Volga River trade negotiations, painted by S. V. Ivanov  (1864–1910), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Risala by Ibn Fadlān, translated by Paul Lunde and Catoline Stone. New York, Penguin Classics, 2012.

A Sneeze Was Seen As A Good Omen In Ancient Greece

Throughout history, religious humans of various faiths have long believed that certain emotions, feelings or sensations could be inflicted on people by supernatural forces. For instance, in the ancient Greco-Roman society, many thought that a deity called Eros or Cupid inspired the feeling of love. Similarly, according to some teachings of the Abrahamic religions, sinful temptations are caused by the machinations of demons. In that same strain of thought, the ancient Greeks also believed that sneezes could be divinely inspired. In fact, a sneeze was believed to be a good omen if it occurred after a serious statement or a decision.

This belief made an appearance in writing as early as the age of the 8th-century BCE epic poet, Homer. Odysseus’ wife, Penelope, professed her belief that a sneeze was a sign of the gods’ support in book XVII of The Odyssey. In that scene of the poem, Penelope had just finished longingly prophesying about how Odysseus would purge the shameless suitors in her home once he returned to Ithaca. As soon as Penelope ended her hopeful speech, her son, Telemachus, let out a great sneeze. After hearing her son’s powerful sneeze, Penelope cheerfully exclaimed, “Didn’t you notice that my son sneezed a blessing on all I had said?” (Book 17, approx. line 540, Penguin, 2009).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (cropped and sneeze-modified tondo from an Attic red cup, possibly Briseis and Phoenix (Louvre caption) or Hecamede and Nestor, ca. 490 BC. From Vulci. [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Odyssey by Homer, translated by E. V. Rieu and edited by D. C. H. Rieu. New York: Penguin Classics, 2009. 

The Supernatural Nursery Room Of Augustus

Shortly after Augustus’ death in the year 14, the Roman Senate declared him to have ascended to divinity and an order of priests and priestesses was formed to begin maintaining sacred rites in his honor. In addition to this, geographical locations that played important roles in Augustus’ life were not only deemed to be historical landmarks, but also were venerated as sacred land.

Among the list of regions viewed as sacred were some of the places where Augustus had spent his childhood. The Roman scholar, Suetonius (c. 70-130+), wrote that a shrine was built on the place where Augustus was born. Yet, one of the most peculiar of the baby Augustus’ sacred sites was a nursery with a fearsome reputation for supernatural power.

According to Suetonius, Augustus was raised near the region of Velitrae in a country mansion owned by his grandfather. In the mansion was a small room that looked similar in size to a food pantry. Food, however, was not kept in that room—it was instead a nursery for Augustus, the first emperor of Rome.

After Augustus’ death and deification, the small nursery was treated with great honor. According to Suetonius, people were urged not to enter the nursery wantonly or without a genuine, urgent cause. In addition, visitors were expected to undergo some rite of purification before entering the sacred nursery. Surprisingly, despite the honor shown to the room, the nursery (and the mansion encompassing it) reportedly remained privately owned, so there were no guards to ensure that respect was shown. Even so, the lack of security was not a problem because, according to legend, the nursery had its own otherworldly protectors.

In short, the nursery had a reputation for rampant supernatural hauntings. Many of the incidents in the room were fairly psychological—people would enter the room, only to flee from the nursery because a sudden sense of overwhelming terror flooded their thoughts after they had crossed the doorway. The supernatural protectors, however, did not only tinker with emotions. In other reported hauntings, the nursery guardians were much more physical.

Suetonius recorded an odd piece of folklore about the nursery, in which an unnamed owner of the Velitrae mansion decided to spend the night in the haunted room. Several motives were proposed, including that the owner wanted to test the rumors, or that he was ignorant of the room’s reputation and simply wanted to spend a night in a historic landmark. Whatever the case, the unseen protectors of the sacred site apparently became infuriated with this new owner, who had prepared himself a temporary bed in the venerated nursery of Augustus. As the story goes, the disrespectful mansion owner was grabbed by an invisible force in the middle of the night and ingloriously hurled out of the nursery with such force that he was found half dead the next morning, with all of his bedding strewn around him.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Brutus haunted by the ghost of Caesar, by Edward Scriven  (1775–1841), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Twelve Caesars by Suetonius, translated by Robert Graves and edited by James B. Rives. New York: Penguin Classics, 2007.
• The Roman History by Cassius Dio, translated by Ian Scott-Kilvert. New York: Penguin Classics, 1987.  

Yakudoshi—The Historical Japanese Superstition of Unlucky Ages

In Japan, many people have an interesting belief that certain years during a person’s life are much more deadly and unlucky than others. These treacherous years are called yakudoshi, which translates approximately to “unlucky years.” Generally, the modern unlucky years for women are the ages 19, 33 and 37; and the same for men are 25, 42 and 61. While these are the most common unlucky years feared in Japan today, they are not set in stone—people from different eras believed in different unlucky ages, and the list of unlucky years often varies significantly from region to region in Japan. In all, it is a complicated subject, with the years preceding and following the unlucky ages also being slightly tainted with misfortune.  If you fall under one of these many unlucky years, fret not. It is said that the bad luck can be overcome with a large dose of caution, prayer and some help from purchasable charms or amulets that can bring some much-needed luck.

The tradition of yakudoshi is not a new superstition. It is believed to have begun at least in the Heian Period of Japan, which spanned from 794-1185 CE. It is said to have sprung from the cosmological belief in the intermingling, but opposite, forces of Yin and Yang, which serves as a foundation for much of Asia’s religions and philosophies. The idea of yakudoshi played prominently in The Tale of Genji, considered to be the world’s first true novel, written by the 10th- and 11th-century authoress, Murasaki Shikibu. In her lengthy tale, several of the female characters suffered illness or death during yakudoshi years—the age of 37 was an especially dangerous time for women in The Tale of Genji.

As mentioned before, the superstition of yakudoshi still persists in Japan to this day, where shrines post lists of unlucky years, and items and actions are prescribed to secure good (or at least stable) fortune. Similarly, in some countries linked to the Western civilizations, there are people who fear the number “13” and are superstitious about “Friday the 13th.” That said, many people, in all cultures, are assuredly skeptical of humanity’s bizarre superstitions. Nevertheless, even the skeptics sometimes seem to willingly heed some of the superstitious advice just to be safe, or for the simple enjoyment of being “creeped out” together as a society.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Top picture attribution: (Japanese Shrine with a Yakudoshi list posting, photographed by mrvacbob, licensed as Creative Commons 2.0 (CC 2.0)).

Sources:

• Murasaki Shikibu's The Tale of Genji, translated by Royall Tyler. New York: Penguin Classics, 2003. 
• https://www.kcpinternational.com/2013/11/yakudoshi-japanese-unlucky-ages/ 
• https://www.japan-talk.com/jt/new/yakudoshi 
• https://www.japantimes.co.jp/community/2011/01/15/our-lives/facing-your-unlucky-years/#.WdZt0YZrzdc