Emperor Vespasian Was Reportedly Pelted With Turnips

Vespasian was born around the year 9, and in his early decades of life, he followed the average path of the up-and-coming Roman statesman. He was successful (but remarkably average) in his early military and political career, ascending the typical Roman social ladder to power—moving through the ranks of military tribune, quaestor and aedile, and finally reaching the post of praetor in the year 39. Vespasian was able to maintain his growing power and prestige during the troubled reign of Caligula (r. 37-41), but it was during the time of Emperor Claudius (r. 41-54) that his career really began to skyrocket.

Vespasian was appointed as a legion commander (of the II Augusta) in the year 43, just in time for him to participate in Claudius’ invasion of Britain. During the war against the Britons, Vespasian distinguished himself and as a result, he was awarded triumphal decorations and prominent priestly titles. His next big step up the political hierarchy came in the year 51, when Vespasian became a consul—one of the loftiest positions in Rome. Just as Vespasian was reaching what he may have then considered the height of his political career, his potential for further advancement was suddenly thrown into chaos. In the year 54, Emperor Claudius died and was succeeded by Nero.

Vespasian and Nero seemed to have had a rocky relationship in the beginning. Over the years, however, the middle-aged military veteran and statesman was able to slowly, but surely, work his way into the good graces of the young and flamboyant Nero. The diligent relationship-building eventually paid off, and Vespasian was appointed by Nero as proconsul (governor) of Africa around the year 63. Although his term of office in North Africa was described by Suetonius as “characterized by justice and great dignity” (The Twelve Caesars, Vespasian, 4), Vespasian apparently had not yet refined his public relations skills, and many of the people under his governance showed him great hostility.

The most dramatic incident during his time as governor occurred in the region of Hadrumetum. For unexplained reasons, the inhabitants of that area became extremely outraged and they held Vespasian responsible for whatever it was the drew their ire. Vespasian, the dutiful proconsul, traveled to the epicenter of unrest in order to deal with the situation. The problem, he soon found out, could not have been famine—for there were so many vegetables on hand that the people vented their frustration by showering poor Vespasian with produce. As Suetonius bluntly put it, “the people of Hadrumetum rioted and pelted him with turnips” (The Twelve Caesars, Vespasian, 4). Unfortunately, Vespasian’s response to the turnip-pelting incident was not recorded. Whatever the case, Suetonius presented the situation as an anomalous, once-occurring incident that was never again repeated.

Turnips, however, cannot keep an ambitious man down. Vespasian was transferred by Nero to Judea between 66 and 67, where he and his son, Titus, led the Roman response to the Jewish revolt in the region. Finally, in 69, Vespasian used his connection in the Middle East and Africa to become the winner of the so-called Year of the Four Emperors, out-surviving and supplanting his rivals, Galba, Otho and Vitellius.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Image of Vespasian by Egidius Sadeler (1570–1629) over a picture of turnips, both [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.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Vespasian 
• https://www.ancient.eu/Vespasian/
• https://www.bbc.co.uk/history/historic_figures/vespasian.shtml 
• https://www.livius.org/articles/person/vespasian/  

Many Ancient Greeks Believed Earrings Were A Sign Of Weakness

In ancient Greece, a man wearing earrings could be accused of being weak or—gods forbid—of being womanly. The wearing of earrings was often associated with the Anatolian region of Lydia, which was long characterized by the Greeks as a place made soft by luxury. Herodotus summed up the Greek view of Lydia in this quote on Cyrus the Great’s pacification of the Lydians: “let the Lydians be pardoned; and lay on them this command, that they may not revolt or be dangerous to you; send, I say, and forbid them to possess weapons of war, and command them to wear tunics under their cloaks and buskins on their feet, and to teach their sons lyre-playing and song and dance and huckstering. Then, O king, you will soon see them turned to women instead of men; and thus you need not fear lest they revolt." (The Histories, Book I, section 155).

This Greek disapproval of earrings, and prejudice against Lydians, reappeared in Xenophon’s Anabasis Kyrou (Upcountry March/Expedition of Cyrus), in which he documented the experiences of a Greek mercenary army, called the Ten Thousand, that was caught up in an ill-fated rebellion of Cyrus the Younger of Persia. By book III, section 1 of that text, the Greek mercenaries found themselves in dire straits—Cyrus the Younger was slain, the Greek mercenary generals had been arrested or executed, and angry Persian satraps were stalking the Greeks like vultures. The mercenary army, stranded deep in Persian territory without their chief generals, camped with an uncertain future awaiting them in the morning. Yet, although the generals were gone or dead, many of their second-in-commands and company commanders were still alive and with the army. Fortunately for the rest of the Ten Thousand, around 100 of these surviving mercenary officers convened to decide what the mercenary company should do next.

Xenophon was one of the men present and he would later take command of the mercenary army’s rear guard. According to Xenophon, there was a man named Apollonides at the officer meeting, who argued that the mercenaries should surrender to the Persians. Xenophon claimed that he personally rebuffed Apollonides’ opinion by referencing the recent executions of the mercenary generals and called Apollonides an oaf and a fool, not qualified for any military position except that of baggage handler. According to Xenophon, another officer at the meeting took a much more personal jab at Apollonides. This second attack involved both earrings and Lydia. A certain Agasias of Stymphalus reportedly proclaimed before the gathered officers, “ he [Apollonides] doesn’t belong in Boeotia or anywhere in Greece: he has both ears pierced, Lydian-style—I’ve seen them.’ This was true, [stated Xenophon] and they evicted the man from their company” (Anabasis Kyrou, Book III, section 1).

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Painting from the House of Marcus Fabius Rufus in Pompeii, Italy, executed in the Second Style and depicting the Greco-Roman goddess Venus Aphrodite, c. 1st century BCE, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

Sources:

• Anabasis Kyrou (The Expedition/ Upcountry March of Cyrus) by Xenophon and translated by Robin Waterfield. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005.
• The Histories by Herodotus, translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt and revised by John Marincola. New York: Penguin Classics, 2002.
• http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Herodotus/1C*.html
   

The Torments Of Bishop Priscus Of Lyon

A clergyman named Priscus succeeded Saint Nicetius as the bishop of Lyon in 573. That same year also saw the election and consecration of Bishop Gregory of Tours. Gregory held a grudge against Bishop Priscus for various reasons, some of them plain, others more vague. For one, Priscus reportedly tried to defame Saint Nicetius (a relative of Gregory), and also was said to have persecuted the late Nicetius’ friends in Lyon. Besides the attacks on Nicetius’ legacy, Gregory also took offense at Bishop Priscus being a married man with children. Unfortunately for Priscus, Gregory of Tours was a prolific writer whose History of the Franks would become the main source for information on 6th-century France. When, in the narrative of his History, it came time to introduce Bishop Priscus into the historical narrative, Gregory of Tours decided to avenge his kinsman by doing some defaming of his own.

Interestingly, the behavior of Bishop Priscus and his wife, Susanna, inspired (at least according to Gregory) the wrath of supernatural forces, including the spirit of the late Saint Nicetius. At first, the hauntings seemed concentrated on the church-house (or rectory). One deadly incident occurred when Bishop Priscus decided to add another floor to the building. As construction was ongoing, an unnamed deacon who had been an enemy of Nicetius (and therefore an ally of Priscus) reportedly climbed up to the construction area. As the deacon, standing atop a beam, was surveying the builders’ progress, he reportedly muttered some rude words about the late saint-bishop. According to Gregory of Tours, it was only mere seconds after this disparaging comment that the wood on which the deacon stood collapsed, and he fell to his death. Unfortunately, the deacon would not be the last victim of the supposedly haunted holy house.

A major catalyst for the supposed hauntings of Priscus and his family was the entry of the bishop’s wife, Susanna, into the rectory despite a “rule long observed by earlier bishops that no woman should go into the church-house” (Gregory of Tours, HF, Book 4, section 36). Susanna’s presence in the church-house was one thing, but the conduct of husband and wife in their alone time was another thing, entirely. The ghost of Saint Nicetius apparently was aghast that Priscus and Susanna had other things in mind at night besides singing hymns and taking Communion—the saint’s spirit would even reportedly invade the dreams of more pious members of the clergy to go interrupt the naughty Bishop Priscus. As told by Gregory of Tours, “While the Bishop and his wife were misconducting themselves in this perverse way, Saint Nicetius appeared in a dream to a certain man. ‘Go,’ said he, ‘and tell Priscus to stop behaving so badly and to mend his ways’” (HF, 4. 36).

As was curiously not uncommon in the tales of several medieval saintly spirits, the ghost of Nicetius could become quite vengeful (and violent) if he was disobeyed or ignored. In the case of one deacon who had received orders from the spirit but did not carry them out, Gregory claimed that once the man fell asleep, “Nicetius began to hit him in the throat with his clenched fists. When the day dawned, the deacon’s throat was painfully swollen” (HF, 4. 36).

When sending messengers via dream invasions did not work to halt Bishop Priscus’ behavior, the ghostly Saint Nicetius reportedly took a more direct route for punishment. In a Biblical-style supernatural affliction, the saintly spirit was said to have administered on Priscus’ entire family a hefty dose of holy madness. Gregory of Tours vividly described the peculiar scene:

“In the end God in His majesty took vengeance on the family of Bishop Priscus for these sins. His wife Susanna was possessed of a devil. In her madness she ran through the whole city, with her hair loose about her shoulders, confessing that this holy man of God [Nicetius], whom she had denied while she still had her wits, was in fact Christ’s friend, and calling upon him to spare her. The Bishop was seized with a quartan ague [malarial fever] and began to shake. When he recovered from his ague, he continued to tremble and was dull-witted. His son and his whole household became white in the face and lost their wits, too, and it was clear to all that Saint Nicetius had struck them with his miraculous power” (HF, 4. 36).

The dull-wittedness and trembling must have disappeared or subsided to a manageable level, for Bishop Priscus continued to rule his bishopric for over a decade. He was known to have been present at a council at Mâcon, which took place in the first half of the 580s. There, Priscus’ servants were said to have caused some drama by quarreling with the staff of Duke Leudegisel. At that time, Bishop Priscus still had enough wits about him to be able to smooth things over by giving the duke a gift of money. Bishop Priscus eventually died in 586, followed not long after by Gregory of Tours in 594.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (San Pedro de Alcántara by Luis Tristán (1586–1624) (Museo de El Greco, Toledo), [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/Saint-Gregory-of-Tours
  
• https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/basis/gregory-hist.asp
  
  

The Attempted Assassination Of Northumbrian King Edwin And The Easter Sacrifice Of Lilla

As Easter Day of year 626 approached, the powerful King Edwin of Northumbria had a lot on his mind. He had recently married Æthelburh of Kent, and their first child was fast approaching. Along with thoughts of childbirth, Edwin was musing over the teachings of a certain Paulinus, a Roman missionary and newly-consecrated bishop who had accompanied Æthelburh to Northumbria as her personal chaplain and spiritual advisor. Despite pressure from his wife and his wife’s priestly companion, King Edwin was still indecisive on whether to become a Christian convert, himself, and he was also unsure on whether to grant his wife’s wish for her unborn child to be baptized and raised in her faith. In matters such as these, the king preferred to make his decisions only after long periods of deliberation. An unexpected guest, however, would shock King Edwin from his pensive reverie.

On Easter Day, a man known as Eomer arrived at the court of King Edwin and announced that he had an important message to deliver. With charisma and confidence, Eomer talked his way into receiving an audience with the king and eventually was introduced into the throne room. The messenger was reportedly slow to reveal his purpose—he began delivering a rehearsed story to the Northumbrian monarch, all the while mentally preparing himself for his real mission. At a random moment during his speech, the messenger abruptly pulled out a concealed blade that was long enough to pass through a man’s chest. With this weapon drawn, Eomer charged for the vulnerable King Edwin, who was only a short distance away.

Just as the assassin was about to reach his target, one of the king’s thanes made a quick decision. Lilla, a trusted courtier and a good friend of the king, threw himself in front Edwin at the last moment. Unfortunately for the thane, the assassin had committed himself to the attack and his extended blade plunged with incredible force into and through Lilla’s chest. The momentum of the blow pushed the selfless thane backward against the king, and the assassin’s blade protruded far enough out of Lilla’s back to give Edwin a flesh wound. Before Eomer could push the dying Lilla aside and finish off the king, the other courtiers in the room finally recovered from their shock and joined the fray. The assassin managed to strike down one more member of the court, a certain Fordhere, before he was dealt with by the king’s men. Specifics on Eomer’s fate are unfortunately vague—sources such as Bede, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, and Florence of Worcester did not mention if the assassin was killed outright or captured alive.

In the aftermath of Eomer’s attack, both Lilla and Fordhere died. King Edwin’s own wound was serious enough for him to need some time to rest, but he regained his health quickly. Yet, fate would not let Edwin’s adrenaline level wane that Easter. It was said that the king’s wife, Æthelburh, went into labor that very day and gave birth during the night to a daughter named Eanfled. Her birth, and the assassination attempt, were reportedly a significant event in convincing Edwin to convert to Christianity. As the story goes, the pagan king vowed that he would allow his new daughter to be baptized and raised as a Christian if God helped him track down and punish those who were responsible for the assassination attempt.

King Edwin’s investigators made quick progress in their search. They were ultimately able to determine not only the kingdom but also the specific nobleman who was responsible for the assassin—Cwichelm, the son of King Cynegils of Wessex (r. 611-643), was charged as the mastermind in sources favoring both Northumbria and Wessex. King Edwin of Northumbria reportedly waited only as long as he needed to recover from his wound before launching a reprisal invasion of Wessex. According to Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People, King Edwin “either slew or forced to surrender all those who had plotted his murder” (Book II, chapter 9). Interestingly, King Cynegils of Wessex and his son Cwichelm were both in the latter category of submission, not execution. Keeping his word, Edwin allowed his daughter to be raised as a Christian and he, along with many of his courtiers, were baptized a year later in 627.

Unfortunately for King Edwin, escaping the assassin Eomer was only a momentary delay in his grisly fate. In 633, Penda of Mercia and Cadwallon of Gwynned defeated the forces of Northumbria at the Battle of Hatfield Chase, in which King Edwin fell in battle. After the death of the king, Æthelburh and Bishop Paulinus fled back to Kent.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (The arrest of William Hastings illustrated by  James William Edmund Doyle (1822–92), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012.
• Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People (and relevant letters), translated by Leo Sherley-Pride, R. E. Latham and D. H. Farmer. New York: Penguin Classics, 2003. 
• The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester translated by Thomas Forester. London: Petter and Galpin, originally published 1854. 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Edwin 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Cynegils 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Paulinus  

The Unflattering Mission Of The Conquistador, Heredia

Hernán Cortés, when he explored Yucatan and the Mexico region, was dead set on destroying native temples and replacing them with Christian altars. He did, however, use the native religion to his advantage whenever it suited his goals. 16th-century Spanish writers, such as the conquistador Bernal Díaz del Castillo, claimed that many of the natives believed the Spaniards were gods. Whether or not this debatable claim was fully accurate, Hernán Cortés and his comrades did reportedly try to associate themselves with the local pantheon of gods. This was particularly clear in an odd mission that Cortés gave to one unfortunate conquistador.

In 1519, just after the Spaniards had founded Vera Cruz, Hernán Cortés thought up an interesting scheme to boost the already sky-rocketing reputation of the conquistadors among the locals. He launched this plan when the Totonac people (Cortés’ allies who had recently rebelled against the Aztecs) asked for Spanish help against hostile warriors who were marauding around a nearby town. Cortés, indeed, agreed to aid the Totonacs, but his help came in a very odd form. He gave the chiefs a single old veteran conquistador, confidently assuring the allied chieftains that the one Spaniard had more than enough strength to demolish all of the marauders.

An aging Basque warrior by the name of Heredia was chosen for this mission. Unfortunately, his reason for selection was not very flattering. As Cortés wanted the conquistadors to be connotated with the local gods, Heredia reportedly was chosen solely because he resembled some of the idols and religious representations that the Spaniards had seen during their travels. The Spaniards, however, thought very little of the appearances of the native gods, often describing them as monstrous, hideous and ugly. Therefore, poor Heredia had the misfortune of being considered one of the ugliest men among Hernán Cortés’ expeditionary force.

Bernal Díaz del Castillo was a member of Cortés’ expedition and described Heredia as “an old Basque musketeer with a very ugly face covered with scars, a huge beard, and one blind eye. He was also lame in one leg” (The Conquest of New Spain, chapter 49). Before Heredia set off with his trusty musket, Cortes gave the gruff and tough veteran some instructions. Cortés reassured the man that he would not actually be fighting the reported marauders alone. Instead, Heredia’s true mission was to look intimidating and march with their Totonac allies to a nearby river. He was also told to continually fire his musket, so that those with him could hear the explosion of the shot, and see the flash of powder and the billowing gun smoke. Even if Heredia’s firearm did not impress the natives, Hernán Cortés was sure that the man’s appearance would leave a great impression. According to Bernal Díaz, Heredia was told directly by Cortés that “when they see your ugly face they’ll certainly take you for one of their idols” (The Conquest of New Spain, chapter 49).

Heredia was apparently a good sport and went along with the plan. Putting on his best impression of a god, the blind-eyed, lame-legged and well-aged warrior marched with a force of locals, firing occasional shots from his musket at nothing in particular.  Each blast, it was said, amazed the natives who were within earshot and eyesight of the man. When Heredia reached a nearby river, he began to loiter there by washing his hands in the stream and taking a drink of water. As was preplanned, a messenger from Cortés then arrived to halt the war party. In his message, Cortés claimed that, although Heredia could have done the job alone, Hernán Cortés had decided to show his dedication to the Totonac people by leading his whole army of conquistadors, in person, against the nearby marauders. According to Spanish sources, Cortés’ scheme worked and the Totonac people disseminated propaganda that claimed there was a god marching with their forces. Yet the Totonacs caught the Spaniards in a ruse of their own—when Cortés and his army reached the locations of the so-called marauders, he discovered no hostile forces, but instead found that his Totonac allies had led him to a long-hated rival city. Although some looting and pillaging occurred upon arrival, as soon as Cortés discovered the truth of the situation, he reportedly halted the assault and brokered a truce or alliance between the two enemy peoples.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (The conquistadors pray before entry to Tenochtitlan, painted by Margaret Duncan Coxhead, [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://www.britannica.com/biography/Hernan-Cortes
• http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32474/32474-h/32474-h.htm 

The Dangerous Divorce Of King Cenwalh Of Wessex

Cenwalh succeeded his father, Cynegils, as king of Wessex in 643. He came to power in the midst of a great power struggle in England between the mighty King Penda of Mercia and the powerful kings of Northumbria. The kings of Wessex, the eventual masters of England, were at that time only a minor player in regional politics, hemmed in by the strength of central and northern English kingdoms. Penda of Mercia had invaded Wessex in 628, during the reign of Cenwalh’s father. Unlike many of Penda’s adversaries, the monarchs of Wessex had survived the war, but the peace agreement that resolved the conflict brought them under Penda’s influence. To strengthen the bond between Mercia and Wessex, Penda’s sister married Cenwalh sometime before his ascension to the throne of Wessex in 643. Yet, as was sometimes prone to happen with arranged marriages, Cenwalh and his bride did not get along. As such, within only two years of becoming king of Wessex, Cenwalh made the dangerous decision to divorce himself from his marriage to Penda’s sister.

Cenwalh’s decision would have been safer if he had been related in marriage to a passive and non-aggressive king. Penda, however, was a bloodthirsty and irritable conqueror who would attack his neighbors for little-to-no reason. By the time that Cenwalh became king of Wessex in 643, Penda had already killed at least four rival English kings—Edwin of Northumbria (d. 632), Kings Sigebert and Ecgric of East Anglia (d. 636), and King Oswald of Northumbria (d. 642). This rampaging warrior-king was the wrathful brother of the wife whom Cenwalh wanted to divorce. Yet, despite the obvious possible consequences of his actions, King Cenwalh proceeded with his plan and divorced his Mercian bride.

King Penda responded quickly to the poor treatment of his sister by promptly invading Wessex in 645. Little is known about the battles and military maneuvering that may have taken place during Penda’s campaign into Wessex, but the result of the war was a clear Mercian victory. King Cenwalh was forced to flee from Wessex, whereupon he fled to the court of King Anna of East Anglia.

Penda, however, was a busy man with other lands to invade and kings to kill. He eventually lost interest in punishing King Cenwalh, allowing the refugee monarch of Wessex to return to his kingdom in 648. It was an opportune time for Cenwalh to leave King Anna’s court, as Penda invaded East Anglia in 653 or 654 and killed the East Anglian king.

Fortunately for Cenwalh, Penda’s luck was about to run out. In 655, the Mercians invaded Northumbria, where the forces of King Oswiu (r. 642- 670) finally put a stop to the marauding warlord. King Penda was slain at the Battle of the Winwaed near Leeds in 655. As for King Cenwalh, he remarried and continued to rule Wessex until 672. His second wife, Seaxburg, was said to have ruled in Wessex for a year after Cenwalh’s death.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Augustine of Canterbury preaches to Ethelbert of Kent, painted 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.
• Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People (and relevant letters), translated by Leo Sherley-Pride, R. E. Latham and D. H. Farmer. New York: Penguin Classics, 2003. 
• The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester translated by Thomas Forester. London: Petter and Galpin, originally published 1854. 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Cenwalh 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Penda
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Edwin
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Sigebert-king-of-the-East-Angles
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Oswald
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Oswiu

The Costly Human Toll Of Emperor Wu’s Unannounced Imperial Tour Of 114 BCE

When Emperor Wu (r. 141-87 BCE) of the Han Dynasty went on the first official tour of his empire in 114 BCE, it caused quite a stir in the realm. The tour was apparently not widely publicized and, perhaps for the sake of security, few of the provincial governors knew where or when the emperor would appear. Unfortunately, several of the unprepared governors would lose their lives because of the emperor’s surprise visits.

The governor of Hedong Province was reported to have been the first provincial official who was blindsided by the emperor’s unexpected arrival. Due to the secrecy of the tour, no preparations had been made whatsoever. There was no public fanfare, no feast or entertainment for the imperial entourage, and no proper quarters were set up for the emperor’s large party. In shame, the governor of Hedong committed suicide.

Although word was now leaking out about the imperial tour, Emperor Wu could march his army of attendants with surprising speed. As such, the emperor was able to catch another governor off guard—this time the governor of Longxi province. This latest victim of the emperor’s surprise tour and speedy march had apparently heard that the imperial procession would be eventually heading his way, and therefore the governor of Longxi began hoarding supplies for their arrival. Yet, due to Emperor Wu’s fast pace, the governor did not have enough time to gather the required food to feed the veritable army of imperial attendants that were following in the emperor’s wake. As with the previous official, the governor of Longxi was now irrecoverably scandalized by his lack of preparation. Following the same pattern as his peer from Hedong, the provincial leader of Longxi also committed suicide. 

While the emperor was in Longxi, the other provincial governors along the tour route were apparently able to fill their larders in preparation for the emperor’s visit. Yet, Emperor Wu was a sharp critic with a keen eye, and, unfortunately for another official, the emperor’s gaze found a troublesome flaw in the jurisdiction of the governor of Beidi. While the emperor was out hunting (accompanied by 20,000-30,000 horsemen, it was said), he noticed that large swaths of land were unguarded and unpatrolled, posing a security risk to the empire. Consequentially, Emperor Wu had the governor of Beidi, the governor’s lieutenants, and all of their favorite advisers executed because of the province’s poor defenses. After the deaths of the governors of Hedong, Longxi and Beidi, the other provincial leaders finally got their acts together, obtaining enough food and organizing enough patrols to satisfy the emperor and save their lives.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Sources:

• 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/Wudi-emperor-of-Han-dynasty 
• http://www.chinaknowledge.de/History/Han/personshanwudi.html