2 November - All Souls' Day; Epitaphs

“Waking, sleeping, eating, drinking, chatt’ring, lying, life went by;

While of dying little thinking, down I dropp’d, and here I lie”

One of the Widow’s favorite pastimes is to wander through cemeteries and read the inscriptions on tombstones (although not at night.  Strange things can be found in cemeteries at night, like idiot kids who think desecrating tombstones is the height of cool).  Nowadays, of course, people don’t have the kind of stones on which one can write much (or knock over); most of the headstones have to be a certain (small) size and laid flat and a little below ground-level to make grounds-keeping easier.  Sigh.

(If this seems to be an odd pastime…. I suppose it is.  Genealogists do this sort of thing, you know.  In fact, should I ever deface my car with bumper-stickers, “I brake for cemeteries” will be first.)

Anyway, funeral art is a fascinating study in itself.  It is interesting to see how the ‘spirit images’ (or angels, or whatever current scholarship calls them now) developed over the years, even turning into portraits of the deceased, then moving away from death’s heads to urns and other classical motifs, then again to religious subjects like sculptures of weeping angels.  If you are interested in such things, check out The Association for Gravestone Studies.

I also enjoy epitaphs.  They are little windows into humanity, some of them quite funny, and I’ve considered what I would like the passerby to read on my own stone.

“Here lies the body of Mrs. Rudd

As bombshells go, she was a dud.”

I suppose, though, that if I am allowed a stone (and not just tossed into Potter’s Field), I should have something more useful like, “Of your charity, please pray for the soul of Mrs. Rudd”. 

Mrs. Rudd’s soul can use the prayers.

On those occasions when Mr. Rudd annoyingly channeled his inner three-year-old, I threatened to put this on his tombstone:

“Here lies my man, and for the best,

Because it gives us both a rest.”

Or

“Here lies the body of Mr. Rudd

Deeply regretted by those who never knew him.”

Or

“Here lies my husband.

Tears cannot bring him back,

Therefore I weep.”

He always countered with:

“Here lies my wife,

Cold as in life.”

(Of your charity, please pray for the soul of Mr. Rudd.)

Besides finding gems in the local cemeteries, I have a little collection of epitaph books. Here are some of my favorites.  Quite often the same epitaph with the same doggerel is found in several books, with only the names and/or locations different, so I’ve left the names and locations out.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Very common are the ‘memento mori’ messages, those reminding the reader that they too will face death:

“Remember, friend, as you pass by

As you are now, so once was I

As I am now, so you must be

So be prepared to follow me.”

To which one replies:

“To follow you is my intent

But first must know which way you went…”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“If Heaven be pleased when sinners cease to sin

If Hell be pleased when sinners enter in,

If Earth be pleased when ridded of a knave,

Then all are pleased for __________ ‘s in his grave.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Here lies _____________

Who died fighting for a lady’s honor

(She wanted to keep it.)”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I painted this on one of the ‘tombstones’ used for decorating our yard at Hallowe’en:

“He called Mr. Rudd a liar!”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

For a talkative person:

“Stranger, tread lightly over this wonder

If he opens his mouth, we’ll all go under.”

And an argumentative person:

“Tread lightly over her mouldering form

Or else you’ll raise another storm.”

And a drinker:

“Here lies _________________

Died sober.

Lord, Thy wonders never cease.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Here lies _________________

Who shot it out with four horse-thieves

And killed three of them.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Here lies the body of ____________, who departed this life suddenly by a cow kicking him.  Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Epitaph for a beloved Army mule, when the Army still had four-legged mules:

“In memory of Maggie, who in her time kicked two colonels, four majors, ten captains, twenty-four lieutenants, forty-two sergeants, 432 other ranks, and one Mills Bomb.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Here endeth the first batch of favorite epitaphs.

====================================================

Artwork

Master of Mary of Burgundy, 15^th century.  Illuminated page from the “Office of the Dead”, in the Hours of Engelbert of Nassau.

24 August - St. Bartholomew; Lava Cakes

Weather –As Bartholomew’s Day, so the whole autumn.

If Bartelmy’s day be fair and clear,

Hope for a prosperous autumn that year.

St. Bartholomew brings the cold dew.

If it rains on Bartholomew’s day, it will rain the forty days after.

however

St. Bartholomew’s mantle wipes dry all the tears that St. Swithin can cry.

[Yesterday was the last of St. Swithin’s Forty Days and the weather should be more settled now.  Should be.] 

Thunderstorms after Bartholomew’s Day are more violent [compared to what?]

If the day be misty, the morning beginning with a hoar frost, then cold weather can be expected soon, and a hard winter.

Saint Bartholomew

Brings the cold dew.

Saint Bartholomew shortens our afternoons.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

There is more about Saint Bartholomew, Apostle and Martyr, here.

 

In Belgium, servant girls were told to stay out of the cabbage field today, with the reason being that St. Bartholomew didn’t want their prying eyes watching him as he made the cabbage heads larger. [I think it was to keep the servant girls from meeting the farm boys out in the fields to make whoopee.  ‘Cause we all know what that leads to…  “Mom, where did I come from?” “The cabbage-patch.”]

And for some reason, people in Brittany and Belgium who suffered from catalepsy used to gather on St. Bartholomew’s eve at their local church and trip the light fantastic. [And I will bet that there were more than a few non-sufferers- or at least just-suddenly-came-down with the malady – dancing the night away.  Anything for a party!]

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Today is also dedicated to Saint Ouen (Owen) of Rouen.

And today in 79 AD, Mount Vesuvius erupted and shortly thereafter buried Pompeii and Herculaneum.

So, Fruit Leather for St. Bartholomew and Periwinkles for St. Ouen.  For Vesuvius, LAVA CAKES. One of Saint Bartholomew's miracles was to move a volcano away from a group of very, very nervous people and send it out to sea, so the recipe goes with his day as well.

I found this recipe on the inside of a Challenge Butter package, and is here reproduced with permission of Challenge Dairy Products, Inc., on whose website - www.challengedairy.com - you can find more delightful recipes.

 

1/2 cup (1-stick) Challenge Butter, melted

7 Tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup brown sugar

3 Tablespoons all purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

4 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 400°  F.

Use approximately 1 Tablespoon of the melted butter to brush the inside of six 4-ounce ramekins or custard cups; set aside.

In a large bowl, beat together remaining melted butter, cocoa powder, sugars, flour and salt.  Stir in eggs until smooth.  Stir in vanilla.

Pour batter into the prepared ramekins and set the ramekins in a large baking dish.  Pour hot water into the baking dish to a level about halfway up the side of the ramekins.

Bake for 14-15 minutes until the batter puffs but the center is not set.  The edges will be firm but the center will be runny.

[How can you tell?  Same as you would for a cake - with a toothpick - except that this time, you want to see the toothpick come out "not clean"].

Serve the cakes in the ramekins or run a knife around the edge of each cake and unmold onto plates [the buttering previously helps a lot with this].  Serve the cakes warm or chilled.  Garnish with raspberry sauce, fresh berries, vanilla ice-cream or a dusting of powdered sugar.

===============================================================

ARTWORK: “Saint Bartholomew” from the Hours of Catherine of Cleves, 15^TH century.

“Saint Bartholomew” woodcut from The Golden Legend, 1489.

21 August - Consualia; Aliter Isicia Omentata

Today, XII Kalends September in the Roman calendar, was the festival of Consualia, in honor of Consus, the deity in charge of counsel – especially kept counsel – and secrets.  Most famously it is known as a set-up by Romulus, by which he planned to keep his new city of Rome going through the forcible abduction of brides for his men.

Yep, this was the day of those sobbin’ women, “who lived in the Roman days.”

According to Sir William Smith in his Classical Dictionary of Biography, Mythology, and Geography: “In the fourth month after the foundation of the city, he [Romulus] proclaimed that games were to be celebrated in honour of the god Consus, and invited his neighbours, the Latins and Sabines, to the festival.  Suspecting no treachery, they came in numbers, with their wives and children.  But the Roman youths rushed upon their guests, and carried off the virgins.”  

They never did return their plunder   

The victor gets all the loot.  

They carried them home, by thunder, 

To rotundas small but cute.  

And you've never seen, so they tell me,  

Such downright domesticity. 

With a Roman baby on each knee  

Named "Claudius" and "Brute" 

             Johnny Mercer, “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers”, 1954.

Not a whole lot is known about Consus or his festival, although a lot of interesting stuff has been written.  Varying accounts by both ancient and modern writers have muddied the waters, identifying him with the gods of the lower world and of the harvest (making this another harvest festival.  Or perhaps the festival made him another harvest god.  Who knows?).  At some point, he was associated with Neptunus Equestris (in Greek, Poseidon Hippios, the Horse God), hence (supposedly) the prominence of horses, asses, and mules in the celebrations, where the equines were decorated with flowers and given a holiday from work.  Horse races and mule races in the Circus Maximus were traditional to the day, as was the annual unearthing of the buried altar of Consus in the Circus.

Pretty much, it seems like a day to have fun, which is probably what it was for the Romans.

======================================================

So what would the Romans eat as they watched the horse and mule races?   The Food Timeline has excerpts regarding ‘fast food’ in Rome along with the kinds of eatables at the Coliseum.  Since it is summer, I offer for your consideration a recipe from the famous ancient Roman cookbook of Apicius, De Re Coquinaria, for what Michaela Pantke calls “a kind of Roman burger”.

This version comes from Joseph Dommer Vehling, in his 1926 book “Apicius: Cookery and Dining in Imperial Rome”, available online at Project Gutenberg:

ALITER ISICIA OMENTATA

FINELY CUT PULP [of pork] IS GROUND WITH THE HEARTS OF WINTER WHEAT AND DILUTED WITH WINE. FLAVOR LIGHTLY WITH PEPPER AND BROTH AND IF YOU LIKE ADD A MODERATE QUANTITY OF [myrtle] BERRIES ALSO CRUSHED, AND AFTER YOU HAVE ADDED CRUSHED NUTS AND PEPPER SHAPE THE FORCEMEAT INTO SMALL ROLLS, WRAP THESE IN CAUL, FRY, AND SERVE WITH WINE GRAVY.

Note: ISICIUM refers to minced or hashed meat, like sausage meat. Ground beef works.  OMENTATA refers to the caul or intestinal membrane, such as used for sausage casings.  Since I’m not making sausage, I’ve left that out of my version of the recipe, along with the Wine Gravy.

For the modern kitchen:

Soak ½ cup of cream of wheat (or fine bread crumbs or two pieces of toast) in ½ cup of wine (or other liquid such as milk or water)

Crush 4 tablespoons of toasted pine nuts; reserve.

Mix the soaked wheat (and liquid if any is left) and crushed nuts with 1 lb of ground meat, ½ teaspoon of ground black pepper, ¾ teaspoon of ground allspice [aka the ‘myrtle berries’], and 3-½ tablespoons of garum (a salty fish sauce)* or substitute a mixture of a scant ½ teaspoon of salt dissolved in 3 – 4 tablespoons of white wine.  Shape into burgers and either pan-fry or grill until done.

Apicius didn’t serve his Aliter Isicia Omentata on a bun, but that shouldn’t stop us.

*You can buy garum or make it yourself.

Micaela Pantke entered her translations of some of Apicius’s recipes here, if you are interested in trying more Roman cookery.

=======================================================

Artwork:  Nicolas Poussin, c. 1635. The Abduction of the Sabine Women, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Wikipedia.

“Dinner Gong: A Roman gong from Pompeii”. Pen-and-ink drawing by Joseph Dommer Vehling, in his 1926 book Apicius: Cookery and Dining in Imperial Rome, available online at Project Gutenberg.

9 August - John Dryden

One of the Widow’s favorite poets, the English Laureate (and Stuart upholder) John Dryden was born today in 1631 in the village of Aldwincle, Northamptonshire where his grandfather was the Rector.

 

Besides his poetry (which has beguiled many of Madame’s free hours), and his plays, which, although labeled tragedies, are really quite comic, he is said to be the first person to rule that sentences should not end in prepositions, thus dividing the English-speaking world into those upon whose ears the stranded prepositions grate, and those who couldn’t care less whose ears they grate (and a few sub-categories who, like, really don’t understand what everybody is making a ruckus for, like y’know, who cares if you strand a preposition or dangle a participle?)

Moving along, here is one of my favorites, the song from his play Secret Love; or, The Maiden Queen.

 I feed a flame within which so torments me

That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me:           

’Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,

That I had rather die, then once remove it.           

 

Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;

My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.

Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,

But they fall silently, like dew on roses.

Thus, to prevent my love from being cruel,

My heart’s the sacrifice, as ’tis the fuel:

And while I suffer thus to give him quiet,

My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.

On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;

Where I conceal my love, no frown can fright me:

To be more happy, I dare not aspire;

Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.

[Oh, be still my beating heart!]

Now, isn’t that preferable to some neaderthal chanting “You mah bitch… you mah bitch… you mah bitch… oh baby, yeah…”

=====================================================

Artwork: Anonymous, “John Dryden”, c. 1670.  Wikipedia.  I love the studied nonchalance of Restoration undress.

Sir Peter Lely, “Nell Gwyn”, c 1675.  National Portrait Gallery, London.  Wikipedia.   Nell, Charles II's "Protestant Whore" as she called herself, acted in several of Dryden's plays.

17 July - King James tightens his belt; A Grande Sallet

In 1604, King James I of England found it necessary to reduce his household expenditure (which his loving subjects must have applauded) and announced today:

“We are truly informed by our Privy Council, that if some reasonable order be not taken to abate the great and daily charge of our household, which of necessity hath been much more increased since our coming to the crown, than it was in our dear sister’s time; and that to provide the same increase of provision will not only fall out more chargeable that we like of, but prove more burthensome and grievous to our loving subjects, whose quiet and welfare we greatly desire; First, therefore, to diminish our said daily charge, whereas ourself and our dear wife, the Queen’s majesty, have been every day served with thirty dishes of meat; now, hereafter, according to this book signed, our will is to be served but with twenty-four dishes every meal, unless when any of us sit abroad in state, then to be served with thirty dishes, or as many more as we may command.”

Sounds like he was making a real sacrifice.

Robert May wrote down a life-time’s experience of cooking for the Elizabethan and Jacobean nobility in his 17th-century book, The Accomplisht Cook, or, The Art and Mystery of Cookery (which you can read at Project Gutenberg).   He also gave bills of fare for every month and several ‘feast’ days, when the groaning board would be festively augmented. 

His suggested menu for Christmas Day looks like what the King was reducing, even though there are only twenty-one dishes per course:

     1^st Course

Oysters

A collar of brawn

Stewed Broth of Mutton marrow bones

A grand Sallet

A Pottage of caponets

A breast of veal in stoffado

A boil’d Partridge

A chine of beef, or surloin roast

Minced Pies

A Jegote of mutton with anchove sauce

A made dish of sweet-bread

A swan roast

A pasty of venison

A kid with a pudding in his belly

A steak pie

A haunch of venison roasted

A turkey roast and stuck with cloves

A made dish of chickens in puff paste

Two bran geese roasted, one larded

Two large capons, one larded

A Custard

     2^nd Course

Oranges and lemons

A young lamb or kid

Two couple of rabbits, two larded

A pig souc’t with tongues

Three ducks, one larded

Three pheasants, one larded

A Swan Pye

Three brace of partridge, three larded.

Made dish in puff paste

Bolonia sausages, and anchoves, mushrooms, and Cavieate [caviare?], and pickled oysters in a dish

Six teels, [teals] three larded

A Gammon of Westphalia Bacon

Ten plovers, five larded

A quince pye, or warden pie

Six woodcocks, three larded

A standing Tart in puff-paste, preserved fruits, Pippins, etc.

A dish of Larks

Six dried neat’s tongues

Sturgeon

Powdered geese

Jellies.

 [Alka-Seltzer™]

For days in Lent and fast-days throughout the year (there were several besides Fridays), the menu dropped down to sixteen dishes per course with no meat in sight.  Truly penitential!

Below is his recommended (and much lighter) bill of fare for July:

           1^st Course

Muskmelons

Pottage of Capon

Boil’d Pigeons

A hash of Caponets

A Grand Sallet

A Fawn

A Custard

          2^nd Course

Pease, or French Beans

Four Gulls, two larded

Eight Pewits, four larded

A quodling [green cooking apple] Tart green

Portugal eggs, two sorts

Buttered Brawn

Selsey Cockles broil’d

On hot July days, a GRAND SALLET would be easy, satisfying, and cool:

“Take a cold roast capon and cut it into thin slices square and small, (or any other roast meat as chicken, mutton, veal, or neat’s tongue) mingle with it a little minced taragon and an onion, then mince lettice as small as the capon, mingle all together, and lay it in the middle of a clean scoured dish. Then lay capers by themselves, olives by themselves, samphire by itself, broom buds, pickled mushrooms, pickled oysters, lemon, orange, raisins, almonds, blue-figs, Virginia Potato, caperons, crucifix pease, and the like, more or less, as occasion serves, lay them by themselves in the dish round the meat in partitions. Then garnish the dish sides with quarters of oranges, or lemons, or in slices, oyl and vinegar beaten together, and poured on it over all.  On fish days, a roast, broil'd, or boil'd pike boned, and being cold, slice it as abovesaid.”

[Sounds like a Salade Niçoise, or a classic Chef’s Salad.] 

To modernize May’s recipe, cut up roast chicken into small pieces, and mix with minced onion and tarragon (how much depends on your taste or the amount of chicken you are using, but a little tarragon goes a long way).  Tear lettuce into bite-sized pieces and mix together with the chicken.  Pile that in the middle of your salad dish.  Around it put various salad fixings: pickled capers, pickled mushrooms, olives of whatever kinds suit your fancy, small potatoes (cooked and chilled), peas and/or green beans (also chilled, marinated if desired), artichoke hearts, radishes, sliced cucumbers, tomato wedges, red-onion rings, etc.  If you want to be really Jacobean, do as May says and add clusters of raisins, almonds, figs, and citrus fruit to the nimbus around the lettuce (oh, and oysters…).  Edge the whole dish with half-moon slices of oranges or lemons.  Mix together ‘oyl and vinegar’ (1/2 cup of olive oil, 3 tablespoons of vinegar) and beat until well-blended.  Season with salt and pepper to taste, if desired.  May says to pour it on the sallet; I prefer to have it in a separate container and let the diner calculate the amount he needs.

=================================================

Artwork:

King James I at dinner, swiped from Wikisource

Woodcut, c. 1600, from the "Roxburghe Balades", found in Phillip Stubbes' Anatomy of Abuses in England.

9 July - Anne of Cleves is free

Farming and Gardening – St. Kilian sets the reapers going [i.e., the grain harvest starts today]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today in 1540, King Henry VIII of England annulled his marriage to Queen Anna von Kleve.  This may have been an unmitigated blessing to Anna, who had spent the previous six months being alternately praised and scorned, feted and ignored, and finally put in the terrifying position of wondering when her head would be forfeit.

Around the 23^rd of June, Anna was ordered by her husband to retire to the better air of Richmond, on the grounds that there was plague in London.  Henry then proceeded to consult his Archbishop of Canterbury concerning his doubts about the validity of the marriage undertaken the previous January.  On the 6^th of July, six months to the day after the wedding, the King’s doubts were presented to Parliament, which dutifully wagged its tail and petitioned their gracious King to allow the convocation of the clergy to investigate the marriage’s legality.  He was graciously pleased to grant their request “for he had no other object in view but the glory of God, the welfare of the realm, and the triumph of the truth” [and Katherine Howard].  A deputation was sent to Anna in Richmond the same day to express the same doubts and to find out if she would let the English clergy decide the question.  Believing that she was not only helpless but in danger, Anna agreed.  Convocation dutifully wagged its tail and after three days of investigation pronounced the marriage to be null and void on 9 June. 

On 10 June, Cranmer reported this to the House of Lords, and the King’s Commissioners (Suffolk (Lord President of the Council), Southampton (Lord Privy Seal), and Wriothesley, (the King’s Secretary) went to Richmond to convey the news to Anna.  She, understanding little English, but fully aware of the fates of her predecessors, fainted in terror, and it was some time before the commissioners could make her understand that the king proposed to adopt her as his sister, giving her precedence of every lady in the court, except his daughters and his future consort, and endowing her with estates worth £3000 a year and the household of a royal princess.  When she was finally convinced that they were not here to escort her to the Tower, she resigned her position and her husband with an alacrity just short of insulting.  On the following day, she sent a letter to Henry, in which she acquiesced to the decision of Parliament and subscribed herself, “Your majesty’s most humble sister and servant, Anna, of Cleves.” [Of course, the shadow of the Tower might have influenced the quick acquiescence.  Subsequent letters to her family warned them nicely that any attempts on their part to upset the status quo would most likely be visited on her head.]

On July 13^th, a mere eight days from the start of this disgraceful business, a bill to invalidate the marriage passed unanimously.  Again she was visited by the commissioners, who brought her a down payment of £500; in return she sent her wedding ring with its inscription “God Send Me Well to Keep” back to Henry.  Her household was broken up on 17 July, those who had sworn to serve her as Queen were dismissed, and a new set of servants chosen by Henry arrived.  Prior to this she had again written to her quondam husband, thanking him for his goodness to her:

“Most excellent and noble prince, and my most benign and good brother, I do most humbly thank you for your great goodness, favor and liberality, which as well by your majesty’s own letters, as by the report and declaration of your councilors, the lord great master, the lord privy seal, and your grace’s secretary, I perceive it hath pleased you to determine towards me.  Whereunto I have no more to answer, but that I shall ever remain your majesty’s most humble sister and servant.”

Henry wrote his own version to his ambassadors, making the whole thing sound simple and reasonable: “As We could no longer entertain her as our Queen, We could nevertheless, for the honour of her house and parentage, and in respect of her truth and conformable behavior, entertain her in our Realm as our sister, and endow her with such a state of honor, as all her friends and allies should have just cause to be contented, pleased and satisfied…. And so she dismissed from her, in a very quiet, genteel and honorable fashion, such as had waited and attended upon her in the state of a Queen, and remained then as in her own house, by our assignment, still at Richmond, where she yet continues, accompanied with her officers and servants, agreeably to her present state… with a good cheer and manner, devising daily the politic order of the state she now has and enjoys….”

Anna was given the palace at Richmond and a house in Chelsea, along with several other properties, many from the estate of the lately executed Earl of Essex, formerly Thomas Cromwell, the architect of her marriage.  All this was given to her on the condition that she not leave the country, and in spite of the constant watchfulness where Henry was concerned, she accepted, was naturalized an English subject, and settled down to enjoy life.  Henry’s daughters Mary and Elizabeth visited her; so also did Henry, now married to Katherine Howard, and the royal pair often invited her to Hampton Court. 

This led to one of those delightful scandals that no novelist could ever use and few people realize: at the same time that rumors of Queen Katherine’s behavior reached the king, rumors also reached him that Lady Anne had given birth to a ‘fair son’ whose father was purported to be Henry himself.  Henry was no end alarmed by this, and for two weeks two commissions sifted the evidence about two wives (one of them an ex, and styled ‘sister’).  The rumor seems to have started when Anna took to her bed with an undisclosed illness at the time of the queen’s downfall.  In Anna’s case, the commission found that it was merely scandalous gossip and committed two of the gossips to the Tower.  Katherine Howard wasn’t so fortunate.

After Katherine’s execution, Anna’s brother of Cleves seems to have broached the subject of the king’s remarriage to his sister, but the suggestion was ignored and quietly died, and I’m sure Anna breathed a sigh of relief.

The rest of her life was spent very comfortably in England.

“Madame of Cleves has a more joyous countenance than ever.  She wears a 

great variety of dresses, and passes all her time in sports and recreations.”   

Marillac, Ambassador of France, Sept. 1540.

=========================================================

 Artwork: Anne of Cleves, c. 1540, attributed to Barthel Bruyn the Elder.  Swiped from Wikipedia.

21 April - Founding of Rome

According to tradition, this is the dies natalis of the city of Rome, future ruler of most of the known world, founded by Romulus in 753 B.C. on the left bank of the Tiber River.

You know already the story of Romulus and Remus, the twin sons of Mars and grandsons of the exiled king Numitor; how the usurping king ordered the semi-divine infants drowned in the Anio River, and how instead their cradle drifted downstream until it was cast ashore on the banks of the Tiber; how they were suckled by a she-wolf until they were found and raised by shepherds on Palatine hill; how they learned of their true birth and avenged their grandfather by slaying the usurper and returning the rightful king to his throne.

If you don’t know it, you should.

This version of the founding of Rome is taken from “A Classical Dictionary of Biography, Mythology, and Geography” (1891), by Sir William Smith:

“Romulus and Remus loved their old abode, and therefore left Alba to found a city on the banks of the Tiber.  A strife arose between the brothers where the city should be built, and after whose name it should be called.  Romulus wished to build it on the Palatine, Remus on the Aventine.  It was agreed that the question should be decided by augury; and each took his station on the top of his chosen hill. 

The night passed away, and as the day was dawning, Remus saw six vultures; but at sun-rise, when these tidings were brought to Romulus, 12 vultures flew by him.  Each claimed the augury in his own favor; but the shepherds decided for Romulus, and Remus was obliged to yield. 

Romulus now proceeded to mark out the pomœrium of his city, and to raise the wall.  Remus, who still resented the wrong he had suffered, leapt over the wall in scorn, whereupon he was slain by his brother. 

[The Pomœrium was a symbolical wall, marked by stones or stone pillars erected at intervals.  The custom when founding a new town was to yoke a bullock and a heifer to the plow, and draw a furrow, with the clods falling inward, around the place to be occupied.  The furrow represented the moat, and the little mound of clods formed the symbolical wall. The actual stone walls were built outside this furrow, but near to it. The original pomœrium probably ran around the foot of the Palatine hill.]

Map of Ancient Rome

Palatine Hill (Romulus) in red

Aventine Hill (Remus) in blue

Capitoline Hill and Quirinal Hill (Sabines) in green

Tiber River in brown.

As soon as the city was built, Romulus found his people too few in numbers.  He therefore set apart, on the Capitoline hill, an asylum, or a sanctuary, in which homicides and runaway slaves might take refuge.  The city thus became filled with men, but they wanted women.  Romulus, therefore, tried to form treaties with the neighboring tribes, in order to obtain connubium, or the right of legal marriage with their citizens, but his offers were treated with disdain, and he accordingly resolved to obtain by force what he could not gain by entreaty.

In the fourth month after the foundation of the city, he proclaimed that games were to be celebrated in honor of the god Consus, and invited his neighbors, the Latins and Sabines, to the festival.  Suspecting no treachery, they came in numbers, with their wives and children.  But the Roman youths rushed upon their guests, and carried off the virgins.  The parents of the virgins returned home and prepared for vengeance.”

[Battles ensue, first one side gaining, then the other.]

“At length, when both parties were exhausted with the struggle, the Sabine women rushed in between them, and prayed their husbands and fathers to be reconciled.  Their prayer was heard; the two people not only made peace, but agreed to form only one nation.  The Romans continued to dwell on the Palatine under their king Romulus; the Sabines built a new town on the Capitoline and Quirinal hills, where they lived under their king Titus Tatius.  The two kings and their senates met for deliberation n the valley between the Palatine and Capitoline hills, which was hence called comitium, or the place of meeting.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In honor of Eternal Rome, fix a Roman banquet.  This website has several delightful recipes and a few extras to help give your dinner a Roman ambiance.  If you can’t manage all three courses or the ingredients are just too wild to try, fix something simple like Chilled Peas Vinaigrette or Carrots Sautéed in Peppered Wine Sauce from the Gustatio (1^st course) and Pears Cooked with Cinnamon and Wine or Roman Custard from the Secundae Mensae (3^rd course). 

Eating while reclining is optional.  A good centerpiece for the Christian table would include a lion or two.

Bonum Appetitionem!

============================================================

Artwork:

SPQR by Piotr Michal Jaworski.  Swiped from Wikipedia

Map taken from Sir William Smith, “Map of Ancient Rome Showing the Walls of Servius and those of Aurelian”, from A Classical Dictionary of Biography, Mythology, and Geography (1891) p. 646

Guercino, Hersilia Separating Romulus and Tatius, 1645, Louvre. Swiped from Wikipedia.

18 April - Lucrezia Borgia

“In Rome (or possibly Subiaco), to Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia and Vannozza Catanei, wife of Giorgio di Croce, a daughter, Lucrezia.”

That’s the way the announcement could have read in the local rag in 1480, if they had such things then.  The problem was that Rodrigo belonged to that cadre of men who weren’t supposed to sire children – not that that stopped him or any of his fellow fornicating men-of-the-cloth.  Everyone knew they did it, but for form’s sake, the polite world went along with the polite fiction that the children of popes, cardinals, bishops, et al, were (in public) ‘nieces’ and ‘nephews’.

[No, children.  Lucrezia and her siblings were not the first or only children of the highest Catholic prelates.  There were others, fore and aft.]

Rodrigo as pope

Lucrezia’s father, Roderigo Borgia, was born into the Catalan (Spain) family of Lanzol.  His mother’s brother, Alonso de Borja, Bishop of Valencia, had risen to power in the court of Alfonso V of Aragon (Spain).  When Alfonso finally ascended to the throne of Naples, his diplomatic bishop accompanied him, and by dint of reconciling his sovereign and his pope in a serious quarrel, received the cardinal’s hat.  Elected in 1455 as a compromise candidate for the Chair of Peter, the former cardinal –  now Callixtus III – raised two of his nephews to the position of cardinal – one of them being Roderigo, who by now had taken his uncle’s name of Borja (Borgia in Italy).

Twenty-six year-old Rodrigo was created a cardinal in 1456; a year later, he was made vice-chancellor of the Church of Rome.  Even after Uncle Callixtus’ death in 1458, when the jealous Italians drove out the Spaniards who had swarmed in on the heels of a Spanish pope, Rodrigo managed to maintained his wealth and position.  He built a handsome palace for himself and indulged his sensual nature – collecting art, holding orgies, setting out on romantic adventures… the usual leisure-time occupations of Cardinals.

So NOT in accordance with the life of a Christian prelate was his conduct, that he earned a written rebuke from Pope Pius II: “Our displeasure is beyond words, for your conduct has brought the holy state and office into disgrace… This is the reason the princes and the powers despise us and the laity mock us; this is why our own mode of living is thrown in our face when we reprove others.  Contempt is the lot of Christ’s vicar because he seems to tolerate these actions… We leave it to you whether it is becoming to our dignity to court young women, and to send those whom you love fruits and wine, and during the whole day to give no thought to anything but sensual pleasures… A cardinal should be above reproach and an example of right living before the eyes of all men… “ And, as Rodrigo no doubt yawned, ‘blah blah blah’.  He promised to amend his ways, but then a dark eye full of ‘come hither’ was flashed at him, and off the straight and narrow went the cardinal.

Looking at his picture, one might find it hard to believe that he could lead the life of Don Juan, but descriptions of him gave him an elegant figure and a serene countenance:  “He is handsome; of a most glad countenance and joyous aspect, gifted with honeyed and choice eloquence.  The beautiful women on whom his eyes are cast he lures to love him, and moves them in a wondrous way, more powerfully than the magnet influences iron.” “… tall and neither light nor dark; his eyes are black and his lips somewhat full.  His health is robust, and he is able to bear any pain or fatigue; he is wonderfully eloquent and a thorough man of the world.”

Vannozza in later years

Around 1466 or 67 (perhaps even earlier), Cardinal Borgia attracted a woman of Roman or possibly Mantuan family, Vannozza Catanei, age 24 or 25.  Rumor has it that she might have been the beautiful 17-year-old wife of a clueless husband in Mantua, who was seduced by a handsome but unnamed Cardinal when Pius II took his Court to Mantua in 1459.  Cardinal Borgia did assuage his boredom while in Mantua with parties and what could be coyly termed ‘romantic adventures’, so it is not outside the realm of possibility that this was the start of the liaison between the two.    Probably very beautiful, passionate, and intellectually vigorous, she was an excellent businesswoman and administrator, who owned and managed several properties including inns and a large-scale pawnbroking business, by which she amassed a tidy fortune – apart from the generosity of Rodrigo.  At the time of Lucrezia’s birth, she was 38, had possibly been widowed twice, was currently married to Giorgio di Croce, an apostolic secretary (thanks to his wife’s lover), and living in Rome in a house near the Cardinal’s palace on the Piazza Pizzo di Merlo.

Lucrezia had several siblings, beside the three brothers who were also children of Rodrigo and Vannozza.  By another woman, Rodrigo had sired a son, Pier Luigi and two daughters, Girolama and Isabella, all three at least a decade older than Lucrezia.  Her eldest full brother, Giovanni (from whom descended Saint Francis Borgia) was born in 1474, Cesare followed in 1476, and her youngest full brother, Giuffre, was born in 1481 or 1482.  Since Rodrigo didn’t give up his way of life, even after becoming Pope, there were at least a couple more half-siblings to follow.

Young Lucrezia

 How long Lucrezia lived with her mother is unknown, as is the age at which she was entrusted to her father’s cousin Adriana del Mila Orsini and went to live in the Orsini palazzo on Monte Giordano (near her father’s residence).  She was living with Madonna Adriana at age 9, when young Giulia Farnese (soon to be Rodrigo’s mistress) arrived to marry Adriana’s son Orsino.  Here, Lucrezia received a perfect education in style, manners, culture, religious piety, and all the social graces.  She learned to speak and write fluently in French, Spanish and Italian, less fluently in Greek and Latin, composed elegant poetry in these languages, took lessons in music, drawing, embroidering, and classic literature, and had access to the greatest philosophers and humanist thinkers who attended her father’s court.  With Giulia as her father’s mistress and Adriana promoting the liaison, Lucrezia also learned a few things about the seamier side of life.

Descriptions of Lucrezia always mentioned her beautiful golden hair and pleasant countenance: “She is of medium height and slender figure.  Her face is long, the nose well defined and beautiful; her hair a bright gold, and her eyes blue; her mouth is somewhat large, the teeth dazzlingly white; her neck white and slender, but at the same time well rounded.  She is always cheerful and good–humored.”

Rodrigo was always looking for ways to advance his family, legitimate or otherwise.  At age 11, Lucrezia was contracted to marry (the following year) Don Cherubino Juan de Centelles, a nobleman of Valencia in Spain, with a huge dowry in money, jewels, and other valuables.  At the exact same time, another betrothal contract with a different Valencian noble was signed.  Neither one was fulfilled.  Before she could be sent off to Spain as a bride to either of these men, Pope Innocent VIII died, and Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia was elected in his place (or, to quote Gregorovius, “To him, the highest bidder, the papacy had been sold”), taking the name Alexander VI. 

Lucrezia’s life changed rapidly.  For a start, Alexander acquired and furnished a residence for her near St. Peter’s called Santa Maria in Portico, where the 12-year-old girl held court, accompanied by her governess and preceptress, Adriana Orsini, and her good friend, Giulia Farnese Orsini.  And since the daughter of a pope could look much higher for a spouse than a mere nobleman, the previous marriage contracts were nullified, while scions of the ruling houses of Italy offered themselves or their relatives.  In June 1493, age 13, the Pope’s ‘niece’ (as she was referred to publicly) celebrated her first wedding, marrying the 26-year-old Giovanni Sforza, Lord of Pesaro – a relative of Lodovico il Moro of Milan – in the Vatican with all the ostentatious pomp and publicity that her father delighted in.

You know the rest of the story.  Or think you do.

 ==================================================================

Artwork:

Cristofano dell’Altissimo, [posthumous] Portrait of Pope Alexander VI, mid-16^th c. Corridoio Vasariano Museum, Florence.  Swiped from Wikipedia.

Vannozza dei Catanei, a contemporary portrait, 16^th century.

Pinturicchio, Lucrezia Borgia as Catherine of Alexandria, c. 1494, The Vatican.  Swiped from Wikipedia.

21 February - Feralia; Pan de Muerto

Now ghostly spirits and the entombed dead wander,

Now the shadow feeds on the nourishment that’s offered

------------------------------------------------------------------

This day they call the Feralia because they bear

Offerings to the dead: the last day to propitiate the shades.

                                                                                                            Ovid, Fasti, Book II

Today is the ancient Roman festival of Feralia, when the spirits of the dead were believed to hover above their graves.  To propitiate them, food and drink and little gifts were left nearby. 

And if you don’t believe in spooks, I have full proof.  I once left a hip flask of whiskey on a grave and – yes!  It was empty the next day!  The pie-eyed sexton swore he knew nothing about it, so that just shows you, doesn’t it?

And the grave must be honored. Appease your fathers’

Spirits, and bring little gifts to the tombs you built.

Their shades ask little, piety they prefer to costly

Offerings: no greedy deities haunt the Stygian depths.

A tile wreathed round with garlands offered is enough,

A scattering of meal, and a few grains of salt,

And bread soaked in wine, and loose violets:

Set them on a brick left in the middle of the path.

Not that I veto larger gifts, but these please the shades:

Add prayers and proper words to the fixed fires.

A friend of my mother’s used to take a bottle of (Irish) whiskey and pour it on her (Irish) husband’s grave every year on the anniversary of his death.  This story smote my poor husband to the heart and he lamented, “Couldn’t we run it through our kidneys first and then baptize the grave?”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Since this is something akin to All Souls Day and Dios de los Muertos (and another cold day in winter), make a PAN DE MUERTO or “Bread of the Dead”.  You don’t have to leave it on a loved one’s grave; indeed, after smelling this sweet, cinnamony bread baking, you’ll be hard put to share it with the living!  But remember your own dear departed today, and send up prayers for the Holy Souls, that their stay in Purgatory may be lessened.  To pray for the dead is a spiritual work of mercy and one that should be done often.  Other ways to honor the deceased are to decorate their photos with flowers, or light a candle for each one on your family altar or at the church.

This is a yeast bread.

Cut up ¼ cup of butter into small pieces.

Separate 1 egg.

Bring ¼ cup of milk to scalding; remove from heat and stir in the pieces of butter, ¼ cup of sugar, and ½ teaspoon of salt.  Allow the mixture to cool.

In a large bowl, mix 1 envelope of dry yeast with ¼ cup of warm water.  Let it stand for about 5 minutes, then add the milk mixture, 1 egg, the separated egg yolk, and 2-1/3 cups of flour.  Blend well.

Turn out the dough on a well-floured surface and knead for about 5 minutes or until it is smooth and velvety.  Return the dough to a bowl, cover (a dish towel will do), put it in a warm place, and allow it to rise for about 1½ hours or until doubled.

When doubled, turn it out again onto a floured surface, and knead for a couple of minutes (this expels the air bubbles).

Grease a baking sheet.

Cut off a piece of dough about the size of 1/3 cup and reserve.  Divide the remaining dough into 3 equal parts; roll each part into a rope about 12 inches long.  Braid the ropes, pressing the ends together securely to make a wreath.  Place this on the greased baking sheet.

Divide the reserved dough in half and shape each piece into a ‘bone’, by rolling the middle and leaving the ends as knobs (I put an indentation into the ends of the knobs to make them look like a femur).  Cross the bones on top of the wreath.  Cover the whole again lightly and allow to rise in a warm place for about 30 minutes, until puffy looking.

Preheat the oven to 350° F.

Lightly beat the reserved egg white and brush it gently over the dough.  Mix together 2 teaspoons of sugar and ¼ teaspoon of cinnamon, and sprinkle this over the dough, avoiding the bones. (When baked, the bones will be shiny atop the dull sugary surface of the wreath.)

Bake for about 35 minutes or until brown.  Serve warm.