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Impotence can be hereditary. As if Henry IV had enough problems seizing a throne and suppressing the resulting civil wars, his children failed to understand the physical requirements of a dynasty. He had four adult sons and none of them had bothered to marry. (And, no, none of them went to a British public school.) At least Henry could coerce his daughters into marrying. In fact, the two girls had yet to reach puberty when they were bartered to husbands in Pomerania and Bavaria. That diplomatic brutality, however, gave Henry him his only legitimate grandchild. Six children, one grandchild–but in Bavaria: the Lancastrian dynasty was not exactly propagating. Even the number of illegitimate grandchildren was discouraging: four sons, two bastards—and they weren’t even healthy.

So when Henry IV died in 1413 at the age of 47, the Lancastrian dynasty seemed an oxymoron. Even then, his sons continued to avoid the marital necessities of monarchy; slaughtering the French was more fun. But the French did not think so; and in a peace treaty they offered Henry V a royal princess and the succession to the French throne. How could a romantic like Henry refuse? However, he now applied himself to domesticity with impressive diligence. Married in 1420, a father in 1421…and dead in 1422. (Perhaps it was too much of an exertion.) With the death of Henry V, and only an infant on the English throne, his two surviving brothers finally succumbed to the necessity of marriage.

(The Duke of Clarence managed to avoid the responsibility by getting himself killed; apparently, one Frenchman did know how to fight back). The Duke of Bedford married a duchess of Burgundy in 1423 and finally got her pregnant in 1432; but she died in childbirth. The Duke then married Jaquetta of Luxembourg in 1433; but he died two years later leaving no heirs. Don’t blame Jaquetta, she married again and had 16 children; and her descendants include the current pensioners living at Buckingham Palace.

The Duke of Gloucester at least had some heterosexual exercise. During his brother’s reign, the brother had sired an illegitimate daughter. Perhaps he was hoping to become Minister of Education because he named his daughter Antigone. The Duke became engaged to a Dutch countess, although her husband must have objected. Fortunately, the Pope could be bribed and an annulment was forthcoming. Their marriage occurred in 1423, and the Duke had a new mistress by 1425. In 1428, the Pope (the same one!) declared that the first annulment had been invalid, so the Duke married his mistress.

Strangely enough, the Duke was faithful to this wife; so people suspected that she was a witch. In fact, formal charges of witchcraft were eventually filed against her. (In a remarkable coincidence, the charges were leveled by political enemies of the Duke. And she was “persuaded” to admit her guilt, implicating her husband and causing his imprisonment.) Whatever her supernatural powers, her natural ones did not include fertility. Other than the uniquely named Antigone, Gloucester left no heirs.

As for the infant king, Henry VI grew up but in a chronic state of insanity. He did marry, and his wife had one child, but Henry’s participation in the conception is probably polite optimism. Neither Henry nor his “son” would survive the Wars of the Roses. Those prolific Yorkists knew how to make a dynasty.

You probably have never heard of the battle of Kleidon, but you may know of its aftermath. The Byzantines generally hated war: it was costly, unpredictable and vulgar. They preferred to charm, bribe or undermine their opponents. Give the semi-barbaric kinglet a tour of the splendors of Constantinople, present him with a few bolts of silk and the overawed warlord usually would behave himself. (At the same time, encourage his ambitious younger brother.) The Byzantines also used Christianity as a form of diplomacy. Converting to the Orthodox Creed was a submission to the spiritual leadership of the Patriarch of Constantinople–and guess who controlled him. (No, not Jesus.)

But Byzantine subtlety was lost on the Bulgarians. Since the Bulgarians had first crossed the Danube in the 7th century and made the once Greek Thrace irretrievably Slavic, they had been at odds with the Byzantines: sometimes a danger, always a threat. At times, the Bulgarians controlled more of Greece than the Byzantines did. The street signs of Athens could have been in Cyrillic. Forced to fight, the Byzantines experienced all the vagaries of war. The skull of one Emperor became a drinking goblet for the Bulgar king. That particular king was a pagan; Christianity may have improved the table manners of Bulgarian royalty but not their aggressiveness. The wars continued. However, Constantinople was impregnable, the Byzantine navy was unchallenged, and the Empire’s Asian provinces had the wealth and manpower to equip more armies that would eventually push the Bulgarians back.

At the beginning of the 11th century, the Byzantines were led by one of the greatest warriors of his time: Basil II. Indeed, he was such a committed soldier that he never bothered to marry. Ahem. Basil had decided to destroy the Bulgarian Empire, and he had the ability and resources to do it. On this day in 1014, the invading Byzantines outflanked the Bulgarian army, capturing almost the entire force.

Basil had 15,000 prisoners and a pointed message for the Bulgarian king. The captives were blinded. Out of every hundred men, one would be spared (only losing one eye) to guide his blind comrades back home. So, through the Balkans staggered this horrid procession, one blind soldier clutching the shoulder of the blind man ahead him, with an one-eyed man leading them. It took this blind army two months to reach the Bulgarian capital. At this wretched sight, the Bulgarian Tsar died of a heart attack.

Bulgaria would soon be part of the Byzantine Empire. Basil certainly earned the epithet “the Bulgar-Slayer.” Ironically, history looks at the Emperor with a certain respect and even approval. After all, the Byzantines were more erudite and sophisticated than the Bulgarians. The more civilized are always the good guys.

EMMA THOMPSON TO WRITE ‘MY FAIR LADY’

The British actress will write the screenplay for a remake of “My Fair Lady.” The new version will draw on additional material from “Pygmalion.” New York Times

“My Fair Lady” is merely a masterpiece, the wonderful synthesis of Shaw’s wit and a glorious musical score. Has there ever been a better musical? But I am sure that Emma Thompson can improve it. And when will she be repainting the Sistine Chapel?

Couldn’t she be content to “improve” Shaw’s lesser works? No one would mind her writing a screenplay for “Captain Brassbound’s Confession”. Better yet, she could venture into originality. The world is ready for a new Gidget movie…Moon Doggie gets a surfing scholarship to Cambridge. Gidget follows him there, and finds herself being wooed by both Bertrand Russell and Virginia Woolf. …Yes, Ms. Thompson can even cast herself as Gidget. Just leave “My Fair Lady” alone.

Of course, that hope is futile because I can predict Ms. Thompson’s real goal. She intends to play Professor Higgins. I suppose you could rationalize a gender-reversed perspective. Emma Thompson did go to Cambridge where that sort-of-thing is part of the curriculum. So, her Henry Higgins picks up Eliza Doolittle(Colin Farrell) and attempts to teach intelligible English to the urchin. (I only wish someone tried that in real life with Farrell.) In this “My Fair Lady”, you could cast Maggie Smith as Colonel Pickering, Keira Knightley as Freddie Eynsford-Hill, Helen Mirren as Alfred Doolittle and Charlotte Rampling as Edward VII.

I will be rooting for Kaiser Wilhelm (Uma Thurman) to kill off half of the characters in this travesty. In reality, that would have happened. Did you think that Freddie or Colonel Pickering would still be alive by 1919?

If you’ve heard one town crier, you’ve heard them all: claiming a possible link between flea-infested rats and the bubonic plague. Some of you, in a panic over these wild rumors, might consider practicing hygiene. That is your choice. No one, however, should force you to be clean. Your filth is your right, and the facts are on your side.

Just consider these questions.

I. Is there really a bubonic plague?

Perhaps, half of the people in your village have suddenly died. Does that coincidence make it a plague? Did you check every corpse for boils? Of course not. So, why blame a disease, when the cause could have been a witch’s curse or the Jews poisoning the wells?

As for the rumors of the alleged plague devastating all of Christendom, how can you believe anything that troubadours sing? They indulge in gossip and sensationalism; what a sad commentary on the 14th century that a once honorable profession has strayed from entertainment into journalism.

II. Is there a link between vermin and disease?

According to tentative preliminary speculation, some Moorish doctors in Spain have noticed a correlation between their personal hygiene and their patients’ survival. These findings may only indicate that doctors are unhealthy for patients. Furthermore, the research was conducted by heathens who, in any case, are going to burn in Hell.

A study of history would refute any connection between hygiene and health. Methusaleh never bathed and lived to be 969 years old; Nero bathed and died at 31. In our own times, many sainted hermits have lived more than 80 years, garbed only in their lice.

III. Are rats and fleas unhealthy?

On the contrary, they are essential to your spiritual and physical well-being. The presence of rats means the absence of cats, those familiars of Satan. Every rat in your home is a guardian angel.

Fleas are invaluable in drawing off the foul humors of the blood. Without those beneficial bites, you would die of vapors or require the emergency application of leeches. And just imagine how expensive healthcare would be without fleas.

IV. What is the real motive behind the Hygiene Lobby?

Hygiene is an unnatural act, but we can respect a person’s right to indulge in it in private. If we can tolerate their fetish, however, they should not begrudge us our natural state. Why are they trying to force hygiene on us?

It certainly is not for our own good. If there were a moral justification for hygiene, baptism would be as frequent as mass. In fact, hygiene is part of an alien agenda to subvert and replace our society. The type of people, who want you to be clean, also want you to be literate. Feudalism isn’t good enough for them; they want a Renaissance, and these neo-pagans intend to clean your body and clutter your mind. Don’t let them.

The Republicans are denouncing the apparent bias of the media: Why aren’t both presidential candidates being depicted as doddering incompetents! Blaming the media for any unfortunate semblance to the truth is convenient but it is a also time-honored tradition dating back 1300 years to my beloved Byzantines. In just a 50-year period, c. 630 to 680, the Byzantine Empire had lost two-thirds of its territory: the provinces that we would recognize as Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, Libya and Morocco. Incompetent generals were partially responsible: try not to station your troops downward from a sandstorm and Arab arrows. But the Arab Conquest could also be attributed to Islamic Charm.

Many Christians in the Middle East and all the Jews actually preferred the Arabs to the Byzantines. Constantinople had never been light with taxes, but it was even heavier with its dogmatic if erratic religious policies. Every week, it seems, Constantinople was issuing a different interpretation of the Trinity and all Christian subjects were expected to keep up with the theological fashion. That would have exhausting for a dutifully orthodox Greek, but it was exasperating for the Christians of Syria and Egypt who generally adhered to a different Christian denomination. Most of Egypt’s Christians were Coptic, many of Syria’s Christians were Nestorians; but in Constantinople’s view, they were all heretics. The Byzantine government had occasional persecutions with a few martyrs, but lacking a consistent ferocity, the Byzantines were more aggravating than intimidating. They only succeeded in making the Arabs look like the lesser of two evils.

The Moslems promised religious tolerance and also less taxes; but for their polygamy, they could have been Libertarians. Syria and Israel barely resisted. Jerusalem, the city that defied the might of Babylon and Rome, nonchalently submitted to ragged bedouins without siege equipment. Alexandria threw open its gates, welcoming a flabbergasted Arab cavalry patrol that never expected to take the second city of the Byzantine Empire.

So, how did the Byzantines react to these humiliating losses and defections? They blamed the media, of course. The denounced media, however, was not left-leaning scribes or town criers with liberal biases. No, the accused culprit was art, specifically religious paintings. What could be more obvious! Why were the Arabs winning? Their Islamic faith forbade the making and worship of graven images, a prohibition derived from the Christians’ Bible. Yet, the Christian churches were adorned with art and every Byzantine home had an icon or two of Christ and a favorite saint. This veneration of icons smacked of paganism. All those prayers before graven images were an affront to Heaven. If you are praying to an icon of St. Michael, you might as well be praying to an idol of Ares. No wonder God was siding–temporarily–with Moslems. If aesthetic deprivation was good for Islam, then it should be even better for the true religion. (The Byzantines never considered emulating the Islamic practice of circumcision.)

The Arab threat had not ended against the Byzantine Empire; the Caliph wanted Constantinople for his capital. By 717, the Arabs had a wealthy empire and could send a powerful army and fleet to attack the Byzantine capital. Constantinople withstood the 12-month siege, but the Emperor Leo III was not complacent about his victory. God had given the Empire a second chance, and Leo would restore his realm by a puritanical austerity. In 730, Leo ordered the churches of the Empire to remove, cover or destroy all art that depicted the human form. Unadorned crossed would be the sole art permitted in the Empire’s churches. Additional edicts prohibited icons in homes. This aesthetic suppression is known as iconoclasm–the breaking of icons.

The policy was very unpopular. Church leaders protested and risked persecutions. Many individuals refused to turn over or destroy their household icons. One province successfully revolted against iconoclasm. An iconophilic bishop raised a local militia to defend his diocese’s art. The Byzantine governor backed down and gave up any further attempt to enforce iconoclasm. So, that successful rebellion has preserved for us some of the best examples of early Byzantine art, and you can see those glorious mosaics today in that renegade province–Italy. As for the bishop, he apparently enjoyed raising armies, wielding power and defying Constantinople. He certainly established a number of precedents for his successors. The political independence of the Papacy begins with a bishop’s devotion to religious art.

Yet, for all the unpopularity and defiance of iconoclasm, it remained the policy of the Empire from 730 to 787. Why? Because the Byzantine armies started winning, pushing back barbarians in the Balkans and Moslems in Asia Minor. Evidently God really was an iconoclast. In 787, however, the dynasty of iconoclast rulers ended with the death (possibly suspicious) of a young emperor; his widow (possible suspect) wanted to rule in her own right and so she courted popularity by restoring art to the churches. She did last on the throne until 802. And that aesthetic restoration did not coincide with any catastrophes to the Empire–at least for a while.

Iconoclasm can be regarded as an aesthetic disaster. Very little Byzantine art survived the period. Greek artists, many of whom were monks, actually were in danger. Some ended up imprisoned; a few were executed. Ironically, a number of Byzantine artists found haven in the Arab world. The Caliphate had no prohibitions against art in the Christian churches in its realm. The Byzantine artists were free to paint whatever they wanted in Arab-controlled Damacus and Jerusalem. Other Greek artists ventured west. They found work with a family of nouveau riche–Pepin and his son Charlie–who wanted to be classy. So Iconoclasm may have been beginning of French art.

NEW YORK TIMES REJECTS McCAIN OP-ED

Dear _____

Thank you for your interest. Unfortunately, we find your article does not suit our needs at this time.
When submitting an article for publication in the New York Times, please remember the following rules.

Within the first paragraph mention your Ivy League school, a Pre-Raphaelite artist and, when applicable, any sexual orientation. For example, an essay on the International Monetary Fund could begin, “In my Junior year at Yale, I fantasized a tour of London based on the delirium tremens of Dante Gabriel Rossetti.” Please note that the International Monetary Fund was not mentioned here and indeed could be omitted from the entire article. This would be irony–and we just love that.

Please remember that any submitted article must contain the following words or phrases: post-modernist, bildungsroman, louche, byzantine, angst and “the alleged works of William Shakespeare.”

Following these precepts will elevate you above those presumptuous parvenus whose slush pile entries are just a needless risk of papercuts. And even if your article is still rejected, think of it as being slapped in the face by Marcel Proust. You can feel a little more significant just by the mere contact.

Henry IV was very disappointed in the Percy clan. It was a powerful family in Northern England and very useful to a conniving usurper. After helping him seize the English throne and kill the rightful (if preposterously incompetent) King Richard II in 1399, however, it turned out that the Percys could not be trusted. The rapacious family actually expected every title and estate that Henry had promised them. Didn’t they understand politics? Apparently not. The Percys rose in rebellion, having suddenly realized that Henry was an usurper. The now legitimatist nobles were supporting the royal claims of the Earl of March–who happened to be related to the Percys by marriage.

Of course, Shakespeare covered this topic–in iambic pentameter–in Henry IV, part I. So you know that the rebels were led by the dashing teenage jock, “Hotspur” Percy but he was killed at the battle of Shrewsbury in a climactic duel with that reprobate teenager Prince Hal. Well, not quite….

Hotspur once had been a teenager; it is a prerequisite when you are 38 years old. That was his age at the battle of Shrewsbury. In fact, he was two years older than Henry IV. Prince Hal actually was a teenager–16–but he did not kill Hotspur. That deed was accomplished by an anonymous archer whose arrow determined the outcome of the battle. Up to Hotspur’s unlucky catch, his forces seemed to be winning; not a knockout decision but ahead on corpse totals. However with the death of their leader, the rebels abandoned the field and Henry IV retained the throne.

But that was Percy luck. Even the competent commanders in the family tended to get killed; and you can imagine the actuarial tables for the inept ones. Here is a brief recitation. Hotspur’s father was killed fighting against the Lancastrians. Hotspur’s son was killed fighting for the Lancastrians. (Changing sides did not improve the family luck.) Hotspur’s grandson was killed fighting for the Lancastrians. Hotspur’s great-grandson was killed in a rent riot. (Now that has to be embarrassing, killed by your disgruntled tenants.)

By some fluke, Hotspur’s great-great grandson died of natural causes at the age of 50. (16th century medicine was as deadly as the warfare.) Of the great-great-great grandsons, one may have died of natural causes; but being a Catholic once engaged to Anne Boleyn, he was definitely on Henry VIII’s “To-Do List.” And his brother was decapitated–as was his son! The 8th Earl of Northumberland–the great-great-great-great-great grandson–was mysteriously shot while in the Tower of London. (It must have been a suicide!)

You have to wonder why the British royals did not simply strip the Percys of their titles and properties, reducing them to fishmongers in Newcastle. Perhaps the Percys offered the Renaissance equivalent of a fox hunt: just catch and kill them. You could also wonder why the Percys did not choose a safer social niche. They must have felt a certain glamour to it all. Whether riddled with arrows or in the midst of their decapitation, they would have gasped “What, and give up show business?”

Last week’s New York Times had an article on the Duchess of Northumberland. Being egaliterian/vulgar Americans, we would call her Mrs. Percy. After six hundred years, that is definitely job security.

Rambling 1:

Republican lobbyists are trying to extort contributions to the George W. Bush Presidential Library. The Bush Library sounds about as logical as the Gore Vidal Bowling Alley.

Rambling 2:

As you know, this is the 1494th anniversary of the death of Pope Symmachus. During the time of his pontificate (498-514), the chief talent of a pope was sychophancy. Italy was ruled by the Ostrogoths, and the Pope had to play up to the guys with the swords. At the same time, he couldn’t be too nauseatingly obvious about it. After all, at the time the unquestioned leader of Christendom was not a threadbare bishop in ransacked Rome but the Emperor in Constantinople.

However, Symmachus seemed more sincere in his grovelling to the Ostrogoths; so the Byzantine partisans conspired against him. They accused Symmachus of fornication. The Pope successfully defended himself by saying that he only had one mistress. In Italy, that evidently counts as celibacy.

Rambling 2 postscript:

Here is a surprise. The Catholic Encyclopedia’s article on Pope Symmachus omitted any reference to the fornication controversy.

Rambling 3:

The South could have avoided the Civil War with a little corporate tact. Instead of referring to its “guest-workers” as slaves, it should have used a more congenial term like “associates.” If Simon Legree had simply described Uncle Tom as an associate, a stakeholder or a team mate, why would Mrs. Stowe or Mr. Lincoln object to such a productive partnership?

On this day in A.D. 64, Rome would have made a great music video for “Light My Fire.” This is not to compare Nero with James Morrison, although I am not sure who would suffer more by the comparison. If you believe “Quo Vadis”, then Nero started the fire if only to give himself a topic for an epic poem. But then you would also have to believe that Deborah Kerr would really prefer a frigid corpse like Robert Taylor to the adorable Peter Ustinov.

Historians believe that the Great Fire was just a natural calamity, the unfortunate flammable nature of Rome’s crowded wooden tenements. Yet, the Imperial government found a scapegoat for the conflagration: a small cult of Jewish schismatics. The cult’s numbers would not have totalled enough for an interesting persecution, and the group was so obscure that it should have escaped notice. Only the other Jews were somewhat familiar with it, and they didn’t like it much. However, the Romans barely tolerated any Jews. Nero took a particular pleasure in baiting them, sending increasingly more rapacious and cruel governors to ravage Judea. (The province finally revolted in 66.) So, given their general unpopularity in the Hellenized world, Jews would have made a much easier scapegoat for the Great Fire.

Why did the Imperial government overlook the easier target, and sift through all the Jewish sects to persecute one particular group? As we know from this cult’s earliest writings, the group was apocalyptic and awaiting the imminent end of the world. Its Rome congregation, witnessing the imperial city in flames, must have seen this as proof of the end times. With that impression, they would have celebrated the conflagration as their theological fulfillment. So, although they had not started the Great Fire, they were probably cheering it on; and their pagan neighbors would have resented that. The subsequent complaints led to the cult’s arrest and prosecution. The Roman government really thought that these pyrophiles were guilty, in thought if not deed.

As it turned out, the world did not end. Neither did that cult; it simply rescheduled its promised Apocalypse to an unspecified time.

Among Eastern Orthodox Christians, it is a custom to keep a votive candle always lit next to the family’s household icon. We Americans have a similar devotion of keeping the television perpetually on. As a child of my times, I couldn’t be expected to eat lunch at home without the accompaniment of the TV. And I can justify my habit by the cultural tutorial I gain.

At least, I am catching up on series that didn’t really interest me in the first place. For instance, by now I have seen every episode of “Crossing Jordan”, the adventures of a crime-solving, sexy coroner. (But aren’t they all?) Of course, after I have watched about five episodes, I had a pretty good idea what every show would be like. It seems our heroine–Jordan– has an unfortunate tendency to wake up drunk next to a corpse and there is always incriminating evidence against her. (The severed head in one hand and the bloody axe in the other could give people the wrong impression.) She then will spend the rest of the episode proving her innocence.

After a five-year run, “Crossing Jordan” was cancelled by NBC. I am surprised that the History Channel did not pick up the show. Think of all the historical murders that our heroine could solve. “Jordan wakes up in a car in Sarajevo. Next to her are the bullet-riddled corpses of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and the Archduchess Sophie; and our heroine is holding the murder weapon. Can she solve the crime before Austria-Hungary and Germany declare war on her?”

Of late, my lunchtime viewing is “Law and Order.” First, how can I avoid a series that been on the air for 230 years and has 98 spin-offs? But the show has a titillating appeal–its “ripped from the headlines” plots. The writers glean the news for names and storylines, and blends them into a sensational recipe–and two months later, there is an episode where Ben Bernanke kills Heath Ledger over incriminating photos of France’s First Lady Carla Bruni. So, two New York detectives have to first talk their way into the French Consul by claiming to be bidet salesmen. After beating a French attache into a confession, they then learn their mistake and that Bernanke was seen murdering Ledger. (Jerry Orbach apologizes to the semiconscious Frenchman by doing a Maurice Chevalier imitation.) And that is just the first 30 minutes. Then, you get to see amazing and horrifying machinations of lawyers. For example, 40 witnesses saw Bernanke strangle Ledger; but Bernanke’s lawyer suppresses their testimony on the grounds that they were violating Mr. Bernanke’s privacy. Although the murder indictment is throw out, the District Attorney manages to convict Bernanke of using the Federal Reserve Board as a front for a porn ring.

And if that particular episode had good ratings, Dick Wolf would plan a new series where Ben Bernanke kills another celebrity each week.