Mad Monarchs: Elegabalus

by Heather Domin

When you think of mad monarchs and Ancient Rome, names like Caligula or Nero probably come to mind. Several emperors were eccentric, and a few were truly odd, but none quite match the short and bizarre reign of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus, known to history as Elegabalus. But was this boy-emperor really mad, or one of the most misunderstood figures ever to sit on the Roman throne?

Elegabalus was born Varius Avitus Bassianus in what is now Syria. His family were priests of the sun god El-Gabal, from which Elegabalus took his nickname. He became high priest while still a child, an elevation that played a major role in his identity. Elegabalus' mother Julia was a cousin of Emperor Caracalla; when Caracalla was assassinated in 217, his successor Macrinus exiled the royal family back to Syria, where it only took them a year to plot Macrinus' overthrow. Julia then thrust her son into the spotlight, claiming he was Caracalla's illegitimate son and therefore heir. (The fact that she would push her child onto a throne stained with the blood of two predecessors says a lot about Elegabalus' upbringing.) Macrinus told the Senate the boy was insane, but with the army’s support Elegabalus was given the regal name Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus and proclaimed emperor at the age of 14.

His career was doomed from the start. He brought his Syrian entourage to Rome and placed them in positions of power, alienating the Roman elite. He had no intention of giving up his priesthood – instead, he built a temple to El-Gabal on the Palatine and filled it with statues of Roman gods pilfered from their own temples. He forced Senators to take part in these rituals, and commanded Christians and Jews to relocate their worship services to El-Gabal's temple; he then tried to merge his god with the Roman sun god Sol Invictus, elevate him above Jupiter, and marry him to Minerva. Rome was appalled.

But if his religious behavior caused outrage, his sexual proclivities were an even greater scandal. While Roman sexuality was more fluid than many realize, men were expected to conform to an ideal of masculinity, an ideal which Elegabalus flouted at every opportunity. He forced the Senate to watch him dance in women's clothing, performing sexual rites with El-Gabal's priests. He married a Vestal Virgin -- in itself an unthinkable taboo -- but his true love was a male slave named Hierocles whom Elegabalus proclaimed to be his husband. Roman writers claimed he married Hierocles in a public ceremony and referred to himself as "the wife and queen of Hierocles". In any Roman man such behavior would be shocking, but in the emperor it was intolerable. Stories of his worst crimes were most likely embellished; one described an orgy where participants smothered to death under a mountain of rose petals, while Cassius Dio claimed the young emperor set up a brothel in the palace where he prostituted himself to hand-picked "customers". Rumors spread of human sacrifice and sado-masochistic atrocities – such tales were overkill, though, as the emperor's public behavior was enough to ensure a short reign.

Elegabalus was emperor for four years. In 222, when his grandmother realized his downfall was imminent, she threw him to the wolves and hatched a plot to assassinate him, replacing him with his equally inexperienced but much more malleable cousin. Elegabalus and his mother tried to flee back to Syria, but they were captured and murdered, their mutilated bodies put on display before being thrown into the Tiber. Elegabalus was just 18 years old.

The story of Elegabalus embodies the unbridled debauchery historians blamed for Rome's decline. But was he actually insane, or too different and uncontrollable to tolerate? Here is a teenager who grew up in extreme privilege, venerated from childhood, manipulated by his mother, used as a pawn and thrust into a role for which he was neither prepared nor suitable. He was certainly a terrible ruler – he did nothing but spend money and alienate government, army, and populace alike. Add in religious fanaticism and sexual nonconformity, and you have one of the most disastrous emperors in Roman history. But was there more to it than that? Some today think Elegabalus was actually transgender; his legendary offer to give half the Empire to any doctor who could give him female genitalia certainly supports that theory. Being trans, of course, is in no way a mental illness, but in the Roman world it would have been considered so. It’s hard enough being a trans teenager in 2015; being one in Ancient Rome could certainly have exacerbated any other emotional struggles (and in those circumstances, there were probably quite a few). Was Elegabalus an unhinged religious extremist, a spoiled brat unraveling in depravity? Or was she a lonely girl starving for love, desperate to make her life match her identity? No matter the answer, Elegabalus is one of the most tragic of all the Roman emperors, whose tumultuous personality made for a legacy as one of the worst of the mad monarchs of Rome.

---

Heather Domin is the author of the Valerian's Legion series, set in Augustan Rome, and Allegiance, set in 1922 Dublin. She has been an Unusual Historicals contributor since 2011.

Mad Monarchs: Divine Justice on Duchess Geilana

By Kim Rendfeld

Geilana wasn't crazy to order the death of the missionary who had told her husband to separate from her.

The seventh century Thuringian duchess was following a common practice of dispatching enemies. When I researched the history of my novels set in eighth century Francia, again and again, I came across blindings and assassinations, from Rome to Francia to Constantinople.

But Geilana had chosen the wrong victim, and she paid a high price: her sanity and her life.

We know about Geilana through the various legends about Saint Kilian, an Irish-born cleric. After receiving papal permission, Kilian and two companions started their work in 687 in Würzburg.

Thuringian Duke Gozbert was soon baptized and let Kilian preach wherever he wanted. Within two years, much of the populace accepted Christianity. Just one problem: when Gozbert was still a pagan, he had married his brother's widow, Geilana.

In medieval times, marriage was a means to secure alliances between important families and amass wealth, and that might have been the purpose of Gozbert and Geilana’s union. However in the eyes of the Church, Gozbert and Geilana became spiritual siblings when she married his brother. Her second marriage violated canon law.

Kilian waited a while before he broke the news to the duke, but when he did, he framed the separation as proof of Gozbert's commitment to Christianity. Gozbert responded this was the most difficult sacrifice Kilian had asked of him, but he finally agreed to put his wife aside after he returned from war. 

Perhaps, Gozbert’s reluctance stemmed from the risk a feud with her family, who would see the repudiation as an insult, and he wanted to fight only one battle at a time. Another reason: he apparently was satisfied with his marriage. Geilana’s responsibilities were far more bearing her husband an heir. Aristocratic medieval wives controlled access to their husbands, were responsible for the treasury, and impressed important guests with the family’s wealth. In short, she was a chief of staff, treasurer, and diplomat. Kilian never accused Geilana of being a bad or unfaithful wife. 

The legends portray Geilana as an enraged woman defending her status. When she ordered an assassin to behead Kilian and his companions, she might have justified her decision as a way to avoid a feud and keep peace within Thuringia. On July 8, 689, the missionaries became martyrs. Kilian urged them not to resist. At night, they were buried where they were killed, along with sacred vessels, vestments, and books.

At first, Geilana explained the missionaries’ absence as their leaving town. But the executioner, seized with guilt, revealed the murder and said Kilian's God was burning him with an inextinguishable fire. One version has him tearing at his flesh with his teeth before dying miserably.

Geilana met a similar fate. She was tormented by the devil and died crying out that Kilian was haunting her.

Or she was imprisoned after the murder, and the pagans dared Gozbert to release her, saying they would convert only if they witnessed the Christian God avenge the death of His servant. Geilana did not enjoy her freedom. She went mad and tore her flesh with her teeth until she died.

So is this story true? The older Passio about Kilian’s life might date to the veneration of his relics in 752. He probably was martyred, and it is possible a noblewoman desperate to keep peace in her realm and her status in a ruling family would resort to the brutal tactics of her time.

I will leave the veracity of divine justice to the reader, although I doubt Geilana would have been tormented by a guilty conscience. However, her story would have been real to its early medieval audience. The faithful believed the same God who granted an army victory in battle, gave a family a longed-for heir, and healed the sick also punished sinners.

Sources

-The Roman Breviary: Reformed by Order of the Holy Oecumenical Council of Trent

-Papers of the Manchester Literary Club

-Foxe's Book of Martyrs

-"St. Kilian" by Friedrich Lauchert, The Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 8

---

Kim Rendfeld explores religion, warfare, justice, and love in her novels set in eighth century Francia: The Cross and the Dragon (2012, Fireship Press), in which a young noblewoman contends with a jilted suitor and the fear of losing her husband in battle, and The Ashes of Heaven’s Pillar (2014, Fireship Press), where a mother will go to great lengths to protect her children. To read an excerpt and the first chapter of either book, visit kimrendfeld.com. You're also welcome to check out her blog Outtakes of a Historical Novelist, like her on Facebook, or follow her on Twitter, or contact her at kim [at] kimrendfeld [dot] com.

Mad Monarchs - Mad Sweeney, Irish: Suibhne Geilt

By J.S. Dunn

Madness has a long and proud history in Ireland, at least as long as Eire's occupation and pillaging by foreigners since prehistory. Jonathan Swift endowed the first mental institution for the Irish in Dublin, and cheerfully observed that his bequest “shewed by one satyric touch / No nation wanted it so much.” Swift does not directly reference Mad Sweeney in his works, but our man Sweeney first pops up in medieval texts and then leaps, irrepressible and disheveled, from James Joyce to Flann O'Brien and on to Seamus Heaney and even Neil Gaiman.

Sweeney's frenzy allegedly began from attacking a clergyman who is sounding a bell to mark out the boundaries for a church and who curses Sweeney for the attack. Said curse results in Sweeney's madness and a series of episodes, seven years of wandering the island naked and eating watercress, which tints his face green. A variant is that he goes mad hearing the din from a great battle, and morphs into a great bird that leaps from tree to tree and mountain to mountain. That version includes much older elements of birds acting as sacred totems.

He is ultimately murdered by a jealous husband in roughly the 7^th century AD. In the Christianized version of the ancient bird-man story, Sweeney has been reconciled with the new faith by one Saint Molling at a monastic settlement. Those ruins still exist at St. Mullins on the River Barrow in Ireland.

Like the Arthurian Merlin figure, the solitary and wandering Mad Sweeney is at odds with social changes including the early church. He longs for better (prior) days, and laments his wild, crazed state that has him pitted against the elements. He has a magic touch at times, and Sweeney waxes poetic about nature despite hunger and lack of clothing.

  

Birds, specifically the black-winged sea eagle, featured in Orkney's prehistoric religion and sea eagle talons were interred with prominent cremations. Another early Gaelic myth, Destruction of Derg's Hostel, has a wild bird-man warn Connery, young warrior-lord at Tara, of things he must not do so that his reign will be a success.

For a look at Mad Sweeney's original tale Buile Suibhne in an English translation, see the website:  http://www.ucc.ie/celt/online/T302018.html .  Seamus Heaney's poetic version called Sweeney Astray is particularly fine.

About The Author

J.S. Dunn lived in Ireland during the past decade, on 12 lovely acres fronting a salmon river. The author continues to research and travel the Atlantic coasts and is helping to shift the old paradigm of “Celts” with a second novel set at 1600 BCE.

Mad Monarchs: Sultan Mustafa I of the Ottoman Empire

By Lisa J. Yarde

Representation of Mustafa I, painted in 1815

The Ottoman Empire produced some of the brilliant rulers of Turkey. Their names have come down through the centuries; Orhan, Mehmed the Conqueror, Suleiman the Magnificent.  But several of the nation's rulers began precarious lives as young princes, trapped behind the harem's walls, never knowing how fate might alter from one day to the next and if they might survive the turmoil that often followed the death of the reigning monarch. Sultan Mustafa I is a prime example of an Ottoman ruler who likely lived a tortured existence from boyhood.

He was a great-great-grandson of Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, born in 1591 to Alime Sultan (Ottoman royal women were designated in this way, rather than Sultana) at the palace in Manisa, western Turkey. For almost two centuries before Mustafa's birth, Manisa had been the place where future crown princes and Sultans of Turkey learned about administration and government, rather than in the capital of their fathers, Istanbul. Mustafa was the second son of Sultan Mehmed III, who upon ascension followed an Ottoman tradition established in the time of Mustafa's grandfather Murad III; the deaths by strangulation of all close male relatives. In this way, the Ottomans eliminated rival claimants to the throne.

The kafes

As a younger brother to the presumed crown prince Ahmed born a year before, Mustafa must have been aware daily of the fate surely awaiting him at the death of their father. After all, Mehmed III had ended the lives of nineteen brothers when he claimed the throne. Why should Ahmed have done any differently when he became the Ottoman Sultan at the age of 13 in 1603? However, a swift end to Mustafa's life did not occur. Defying precedent, Ahmed I did not send the executioner with a bowstring. Instead, Mustafa became a resident of the kafes, or "the cage" -  a section of the imperial harem within the Topkapi palace complex, where the Sultan and his household resided. Why did Ahmed allow this, rather than killing Mustafa? Perhaps because he remained the only viable heir, especially if Ahmed died without producing any sons to inherit.

Another image of Mustafa I

With servants and concubines for company, Mustafa filled his days and nights with alcohol and opium, while Ahmed enjoyed the attentions of his favorite Greek concubine and later wife, Kosem, who was the same age as Ahmed. During his fourteen-year reign, she gave him three sons, except his eldest son Osman, who was born from another earlier union. Again breaking with tradition, Ahmed kept Mustafa alive although there were now at least four legitimate heirs to the Ottoman throne. One wonders at the motivation. Was it genuine brotherly love or pity ensuring Mustafa remained among the living? 

A crisis occurred when Ahmed died at the age of twenty-seven.  As all of his sons were minors, Mustafa became Sultan. Despite the established tradition of murdering potential rivals, Ahmed's sons went to the kafes, like their uncle had done. Even before Mustafa's reign began, his courtiers and servants might have witnessed his strange behavior in the kafes. He had the habit of "scattering the gold and silver coins... to the birds and the fish in the sea...." If anyone acknowledged him as an imbecile openly, perhaps they also hoped that after his long confinement, the reintroduction to court and the world outside the kafes would improve Mustafa's mind.

It did not. As Mustafa I continued to knock the turbans off of his viziers' heads during meetings with his council, they must have realized their folly in having placed him on the throne. In February 1618, they locked Mustafa  back up in the kafes and selected his fourteen-year-old nephew to reign as Osman II. The fickle nature of political life at the Imperial palace did not assure Osman's future; he made the mistake of tangling with the Janissaries, the elite infantry historically comprised of non-Muslim boys enslaved as household troops and bodyguards for the monarchs. Osman ordered severe punishments, including five hundred lashes for any Janissary found in a tavern. Four years after he came to power, they had him strangled and gave their oath of allegiance to Mustafa, who became little more than their puppet.

The throne room at Topkapi palace

His second reign lasted from May 1622 to September 1623, during which Mustafa again displayed the signs of madness. He ran through the palace at all hours of the day and night, crying out for Osman, whom he believed was still alive, to rescue him from the burden of power.  In exasperation, the high judges and ministers sent word to his mother. They intended to test his intelligence, requiring him to answer just two questions; "whose son are you?" and "what is the day of the week?" Perhaps knowing her son's mental state could not encompass a response to even these inquiries, Alime Sultan agreed Mustafa could not remain on the throne and pleaded for his life.

Murad IV became Sultan at the age of eleven. He was the eldest son of Ahmed I and Kosem. He too spared Mustafa a quick death. The mad former ruler returned to the kafes, trapped as much behind its walls as surely as by the ravages of his mind. He died in 1639 at the age of 48. His body is entombed in Istanbul's Hagia Sophia courtyard.

Sources: Harem: The World Behind the Veil by Alev Lytle Croutier and The Ottoman Empire, 1300-1650: The Structure of Power by Colin Imber. Images are public domain, royalty-free from Wiki Commons. 

Lisa J. Yarde writes fiction inspired by the Middle Ages in Europe. She is the author of two historical novels set in medieval England and Normandy, The Burning Candle, based on the life of one of the first countesses of Leicester and Surrey, Isabel de Vermandois, and On Falcon's Wings, chronicling the star-crossed romance between Norman and Saxon lovers before the Battle of Hastings. Lisa has also written four novels in a six-part series set in Moorish Spain, Sultana, Sultana’s Legacy, Sultana: Two Sisters, and Sultana: The Bride Price where rivalries and ambitions threaten the fragile bonds between members of a powerful family. Her short story, The Legend Rises, which chronicles the Welsh princess Gwenllian of Gwynedd’s valiant fight against English invaders, is also available.