My recent Byzantine history postings have left me musing on how little known many of the powerful, interesting women of Byzantium are today, so I’ve decided to start an occasional series of posts on them.

The logical place to start is Helena, mother of Constantine the Great, who is probably one of the best known, yet still much about her life remains obscure.

She’s been, inevitably, captured by the Christians as the mother of the “first Christian” emperor (well, he was more a man hedging his bets in truth), but she does seem to have been genuinely converted in later life, although seems to have been a “heretic” in church terms, being at least strongly sympathetic to Arianism.

Her journey to the east of the empire in 327-328 was probably not, as described by Eusebius, a pilgrimage, but a political expedition to dampen down disaffection there about the suppression of pagan cults. She was, as befits the mother of an emperor, a political animal.

A good place to start is the biography on Feminae Romanae. She was, of course, created a saint, so this is the Catholic view.

An interesting sideline is Evelyn Waugh’s short novel Helena, which he considered his best work, although few critics agreed. It is a good read – he makes Helena into a old woman pursuing a singleminded mission, a captivating character. There’s an excellent essay on the novel here.

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palmbeauty, originally uploaded by natalieben.

.. the rather awkwardly named “Ancient Art to Post-Impressionism” exhibition at the Royal Academy, which finishes on December 10.

I wasn’t much taken with the modern stuff, mostly just the usual suspects you can see in regular exhibits around London, but the ancient collection, covering (mainly) Egypt and Rome is spectacular.

A 26th-dynasty bronze mongoose struck me as rare (usually you get animal-headed gods). The label said that mongooses were regarded as sacred, since they protected the sun god Re against Apophis, serpent of the underworld. If the latter was not killed (presumably by a mongoose) each night, the sun would not rise. More here.

Also on Egyptian gods there was a Ramesside era Seth in bronze that had later been remodelled, the jackal’s head being ingenious turned into a ram, presumably by a bit of “panel-beating”, and the addition of horns. Fashions in gods change, as in all else.

I was also taken by some of the Greek sculpture, excavated from the “Gardens of Sallust” a posh area in the north of ancient Rome, in the late 19th century. It had been put there by Roman collectors, to them already up to 600 years old, then re-collected by a rich Dane 2,000 years later.

There’s a lovely circularity there. Just imagine an archaeologist striking the British Museum 2,000 years from now.

More on the gardens here.

There’s also sculpture from the sanctuary of Diana on the shores of Lake Nemi in the Alban Hills, famous for its method of governance – the priesthood was held by a runaway slave who gained his position by murdering his predecessor. The sanctuary has apparently been reburied since the 1890s.

There’s also a small but select collection of Palmyrian sculpture, including the above “Beauty”. (I’m sure she looked better before she lost half her nose, but aren’t her eyes awfully close together?

The existence of what has been called the “third sex” in Byzantium, the eunuchs, could be useful for women in giving them an alternative cross-dressing option.

I’ve commented elsewhere on how eras of gender-distinctive clothing could help women disguise themselves, but passing as a eunuch was even easier – no need to lower your natural voice tone or even pretend to shave. And since eunuchs could become monks, hermits, priests and even in at least two cases patriarchs, there were plenty of career choices available.

So women in Byzantium “pursued their dedication to the spiritual life. In numerous stories written about them, they fled arranged marriages, repented of their previously unchristian lives as prostitutes and sought refuge in monasteries of men, where their angry relatives were least likely to come looking for them.” (p. 109)

Among them were St Eugenia, who in a typical twist in the tale was accused of adultery as a man, and St Euphrosyne, who offers spiritual counsel to her own father without being recognised.

Characteristic of the “reformed” group is St Pelagia of Antioch, said to have died 481 who after a successful career as a prostitute. She “gave away to the poor the enormous wealth she had amassed by her immorality and went secretly to Jerusalem, where, under a man’s name as the monk Pelagius, she shut herself in a cell on the Mount of Olives and there began a strict ascesis of fasting, prayer and vigils.”

It is interesting that such gender-bending behaviour was treated approvingly by the church – these stories would have been read out on the saints’ holy days. But of course it couldn’t last …

“By the eighth century, the pattern of creating female Byzantine saints had changed radically and early Christian opportunities for travel, pilgrimage or pursuing a solitary or communal life disguised as a eunuch had been gradually removed. Women could still be sanctified by martyrdom, by demonstrations of excessive piety and good works, especially if miracles occurred at their tombs, but it was no longer considered suitable for them to adopt the disguise of the eunuch.” (p. 110)

Which doesn’t mean of course that they didn’t do it.

From Judith Herrin, Women in the Purple, Rulers of Medieval Byzantium, Wiedenfeld & Nicolson, London, 2001.

The Maya’s ruined temples reveal a frightening message for us all, says archaeologist Ronald Wright.

As I cycle through London, dodging those ridiculously large Mercedes (why are they allowed to manufacture cars too wide for an ordinary lane!), Range Rovers, and even one night a Hummer! (which nearly took my shoulder off – the driver obviously had no idea of its real size) I wonder what the people who buy and use these vehicles can be thinking of.

The ice cap is melting, the polar bears are doomed, Australia is looking at a year-round bushfire season, and still they drive on.

What we need to do is redevelop charivaris (“rough music”), shaming rituals, to show them their behaviour is just not acceptable. (That’s failing the government banning all of these, which of course it won’t have the guts to do.)

(Via Scribbling Woman)

Sorry, I’ve had a depressing morning, but increasingly I’ve concluded that we are right on the environmental tipping point, and once we’ve gone past that, there’s no going back.

For any experts out there: I’m trying to greatly reduce the gap between my blog description and the first post, which is usually off the bottom of the screen. I’ve just spent half an hour playing with all the numbers in the template, or so it seems, without success. All help gratefully received!

* My Journey to Lhasa, Alexandra David-Neel, “The personal story of the only white woman who succeeded in entering the forbidden city”. First published 1927, my copy is a 1940 war-time austerity edition with some wonderful adverts in it that I might get around to scanning later. With a faithful companion lama, Yongden, she pretended to be a mendicant pilgrim, an arjopa. For the women writers reading group.

* Memoirs of Hadrian, Margeurite Yourcenar, prompted by the earlier discussion of another of Yourcenar’s books.

*Fanny Burney, by Christopher Lloyd, 1936, Longmans, London, claimed to be the first biography. The introduction says of her: “As a result of a curious connection of circumstances, she, the most retiring of women in that garish age, was drawn into the Court of George III and Napoleonic France. Her attitude even after she had attained fame as the outstanding novelist of her day, was always the same : that of an intelligent, humourous, essentially feminine observer; ready to note the absurdities of the world and yet always idealising those she loved as a result of her deep sense of loyalty: passive, conservative, modest, amused – a very woman”. (p. 9) Mmm …

* Dame Alicia Chamberlayne of Ravensholme, Gloucestershire: Memories of Troublous Times, by Emma Marshall, 1887, Selley and Co, London. An interesting piece of Victorian fiction. I’m wondering why the Victorians seem to have been so keen on historical fiction, particularly, it seems from what I’ve stumbled across, about the Civil War. (This covers the siege of Gloucester of 1643.)

* The Measure of Man: Incursions in Philosophical and Political Anthropology, David J. Levy, 1993 – a second-hand bookshop sale (always fatal). It may have some relevance to current musings on atheism – that’s the excuse anyway.

* Woman in the Nineteenth Century and Other Writings, by the American feminist and journalist Margaret Fuller, of whom I confess I have not previously heard. “Susan B. Anthony judged that Fuller had a greater influence on the nascent women’s movement than any other writer of her time.”

* Lying in State, a thriller by Julian Rathbone. (I really enjoyed his Kings of Albion, so couldn’t resist another sale cheapie.)