by Molly Owen | Jan 14, 2013 | Angelyn Schmid, Blog
Forcible, yes, but not quite in the way you might think it was.
The story of the Rape of the Sabine Women surfaces in a massive history of Rome written by the chronicler Livy. Livy was a contemporary of Emperor Augustus and served as advisor to Claudius, the Imperial grand-nephew. He was fond of recounting past deeds of heroism which told of Rome’s founding, particularly those that promoted the moral qualities of pre-Imperial rulers.
Rape of the Sabine Women by Giambologna – note the crouching figure beneath the Roman
It is probably safe to say that Livy’s departure from Rome coincided with the ascension of Tiberius, no fan of republican sentiments. Before he left, however, Livy’s history was widely accepted as the true chronicle of Rome’s founding.
It was Livy who recounted that Romulus, fresh from an act of fratricide, had staked out a claim on the Tiber River. His group of mostly male followers began to cast about for wives from the neighboring Sabine tribe. The Sabines looked upon these amorous suitors with great suspicion. They were like the monster in Jaws. All they wanted to do was to march around, eat and make little Romans. (more…)
by Molly Owen | Dec 14, 2012 | Angelyn Schmid, Blog
Nicholas of Myra (circa 270 – 343 AD) was a Greek bishop hailing from an ancient province in what is modern-day Turkey. The acts attributed to him are so random and secretive, he has bedeviled many a hagiographer.
St. Nicholas Smiting the Heretic
He attended the Council of Nicaea and punched a heretic, only to be recorded as absent and without his mitre.
The people were starving from famine yet he resurrected three children who had been butchered and pickled to be sold as ham.
He was the patron saint of pawnbrokers–always showing up to make good on the debts of others.
Thieves were in his special care, not because he would aid them in their endeavors, but because he kept appearing at the most inopportune times, foiling their heists and cajoling them to repent. (more…)
by Molly Owen | Nov 14, 2012 | Angelyn Schmid, Blog
Lady Emma Hamilton (1761 – 1815) was famous before she became Admiral Horatio Nelson’s lover. One could argue she was the only girl in the late eighteenth century that the casual viewer could identify by sight alone. It was a remarkable feat in the days before mass media.
In western Wales lies a natural harbor that had been used over the centuries by various groups to attack Ireland–Vikings, Norman Plantagenets, Cromwell’s Roundheads. Milford Haven came to Sir William Hamilton (1731 – 1803) via his wife, the heiress of the Barlow family. The marriage ended after twenty-four years when she died, childless. Sir William remained a widower, travelling abroad as a diplomat and collecting priceless object d’arts.
His young nephew, Sir Charles Francis Neville, was an adventurer and a bit of a speculator. He proposed his uncle fund the development of a new harbor a Milford Haven. Sir William was amenable and a whaling centre was built and initially inhabited by seven Quaker families from America. It later grew into a port for His Majesty’s navy. (more…)
by Molly Owen | Oct 14, 2012 | Angelyn Schmid, Blog
“I will not spend another hour in this accursed house, for tonight I have seen that which I hope to God I never see again.” — HRH George, Prince of Wales
Baroque face – Raynham Hall
This was the first time we have credible documentation of a haunting at Raynham Hall in Norfolk. No wonder–this was about the time when it became fashionable to go country-house visiting, a custom begun by the Regent himself. Now, for the first time, the old house was to host overnight visitors outside the family–and regularly.
Raynham Hall was an older Baroque mansion. It had been built in 1630, rather grand and up-to-date for its owner, Sir Roger Townshend, not well known for either quality. A little Palladian design was added in the Regent’s time with a pediment supported by Ionic columns on the seldom-seen east side.
Raynham Hall has remained in the Townshend family for over three hundred years. (more…)
by Molly Owen | Sep 14, 2012 | Angelyn Schmid, Blog
Wentworth Woodhouse began as a Baroque mansion in the early eighteenth century, built in South Yorkshire, England by the 1st Marquess of Rockingham (1693 – 1750). His son, the 2nd Marquess, was a powerful Whig in politics and could not bear the fact his house was already old-fashioned.
His friends thought it more suited to a Tory. (more…)
by Molly Owen | Aug 14, 2012 | Angelyn Schmid, Blog
Yester Castle (licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0)
The Borders of Scotland have always been the inspiration of superstition. The Catholic Church and its successor, the Presbyterian one, never had strong influence there and commanded even less obedience. These are fertile grounds for tales of necromancers, long thought to be dead, easily resurrected by the fire of Romanticism.
Sir Walter Scott loved tales of magic almost as much as he loved the Lothians. After he published the Lay of the Last Minstrel in 1805 (see Wizard Lady of Branxholm), he published Marmion (1808). In it, readers are seduced to descend to an underground vault beneath the castle of Yester called Goblin Hall:
Of lofty roof and ample size, Beneath the castle deep it lies;
To hew the living rock profound, The floor to pave, the arch to round,
There never toiled a mortal arm; It all was wrought by word and charm.
(more…)
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