FinermanWorks

The Empress Theodora died some 1400 years ago. Hollywood still might not be ready for her. So, how would I sell the ‘concept’…

“Trust me Bubbie-baby (Bubbie-sen in the case of Sony/Columbia), history makes a good story; in fact, that is why it is history! The storyline has sex, intrigue, war, plague, corruption and religion; of course, it can be funny. That’s how I intended it.

“The plot in a sentence? An intelligent prostitute works her way to the throne, where she plots, terrorizes, extorts and kills for the sake of justice, social reform, religious tolerance and governmental efficiency….No, she didn’t morph. The career change took several years.

“Yes, I suppose that there are marketing opportunities; maybe, Hanes could could come out with a line of tunics, or Monsanto could manufacture pre-fab mosaics. The Vandals, Goths and Huns would make great action figures. I’m not so sure about a tie-in with Hallmark; the only cuddly, little characters would be the court eunuchs.

“Theodora is a great role. She is a career woman, a 6th century feminist as well as a recovering nymphomaniac. Yes, I could see Meryl Streep trying her medieval Greek accent; we could call the film ‘Hagia Sophia’s Choice.’ Yes, it could be a vehicle for Brad and Angelina although the Emperor Justinian never did not his own fighting, especially single-handed. True, only three historians would know the difference.

“Music videos? Actually, Gregorian chants came a little later. I suppose if Evita Peron can sing, so can Theodora.

“Yes, I know that science fiction sells better than history. Perhaps we caould set the story in the 33rd century instead of the 6th. We can add the special effects that history lacks. You know, ‘Theodora and the Byzantine Empire’ does have an extraterrestrial ring to it. We can market it as a sequel to Barbarella.”

Who knows? I might end as successful a prostitute as Theodora.

On this date the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo was signed, ending the Mexican War rather decidedly in our favor. The U.S. Senate ratified the treaty in March. For some reason, the Mexican government was less enthusiastic about ceding half of the country and did not ratify the treaty until May.

Lou Dobbs of CNN has described (with a surprisingly straight face) the Mexican War as if it were a real estate transaction. Mexico apparently felt overstocked in land, and was willing to sell California, New Mexico, Nevada, Arizona, Colorado and Utah at fire sale prices (especially since the fires were in Mexico City, Veracruz and Monterey).

To quote the scoundrel Portfirio Diaz, the best president of Mexico that Standard Oil ever had, “Poor Mexico. So far from God, so close to the United States.”

On this day in 1649, King Charles I ascended the scaffold. He turned to the crowd and began making perfunctory compliments about English dairy products. With his usual keenness, Charles thought that he was addressing the opening of an agricultural fair. He could not ignore the angry cries of the mob, so Charles offered to cure any of them of scrofula.

Charles, who was known to have lost tic-tac-toe matches to an untrained chicken, had to be informed that he was the guest of honor at his execution. The embarrassed executioneer asked, “Don’t you remember your treason trial?” Charles recalled attending some sort of debate but really hadn’t follow the topic. “Boring lawyer chitchat, you know.”

Realizing now, however, that he was about to lose more than tic-tac-toe, Charles did rationalize the advantages of decapitation. “Well, it would make painting my portrait easier.”

p.s. I may have taken a few liberties with the last words (and meager thoughts) of Charles I. But the victory of Parliament over the King guaranteed me those liberties. Thank you Mr. Cromwell.

Let’s wish a Happy Birthday to Christian VII.  The King of Denmark and Norway would be 257 years old today.  Unfortunately, it would have been unwise to let him near lit birthday candles.  Christian’s hobbies included schizophrenia, paranoia and self-mutilation.  The King was left in the care of Dr. Johann Struensee, who assumed for himself both running the country as well as “conjugal” duties with the Queen.  (Dr. Struensee’s sidelines eventually earned him a decapitation.)

Stupidity usually guarantees the sanity of royalty.  You can’t lose a mind without having one.   Nonetheless, a number of royal families could have used ermine strait jackets.

Nero was the nephew of Caligula. The family resemblance is obvious.

France’s Charles VI had bouts of insanity. His daughter Catherine married Henry V–under duress; she was part of the booty of Agincourt. That union produced Henry VI–who also had bouts of insanity. Charles VI was succeeded by Charles VII; but since the French Queen played around–and admitted it–Charles VII evidently had a sane father. The widow of Henry V didn’t quite play around–but she certainly found solace in a Welsh knight named Owen Tudor. None of their children suffered insanity, although one great-grandson–Henry VIII–was a bit unstable.

Everyone knows of Mad King Ludwig of Bavaria. But he was a paragon of sanity compared to his younger brother and successor Otto. Otto actually thought that he was a dog. Although Otto nominally succeeded his brother, no one allowed him to bark in public. A series of  cousins maintained a regency in Bavaria.

And was Ludwig really insane? He was spending Bavaria into bankruptcy, but that is a royal prerogative. Ludwig’s only real manifestations of insanity were his fondness for Wagner and his public dislike of Bismarck. (The latter could be regarded as a death wish–and Ludwig did drown under mysterious circumstances.)

Be reassured, however.  The British Royal Family is as sane as a brick. 
 

On this day in 1547, Henry VIII evidently won his wager with Francis I as to which of them would first die of syphilis. The smart money would have bet on the French king; he had the disease first. In fact, he may have indirectly infected Henry. A pioneer of venereal environmentalism, Francis used to recycle his mistresses. Among his many “friends” was Mary Boleyn. (You certainly are familiar with her younger sister.) When Francis and Mary parted ways, she returned to England and became Henry’s mistress. She may have brought back more than French fashion.

Syphilis was one of the most popular imports from the New World. Columbus traded it for smallpox. The Europeans certainly got the better of the deal. After all, no one enjoys getting smallpox. Although the Spanish first imported the venereal disease, people tended to associate it with France. (Something about Torquemada just isn’t erotic.) So the malady initially was known as the French Disease; an invading French army did introduce it to Italy in 1494. By 1503, English doctors needed a name for the disease; however, begrudging the French credit for anything, they preferred the term “the Great Pox.”

The disease finally acquired its formal name in 1530. Girolamo Fracastoro, an Italian physician who dabbled in poetry, wrote an allegory of the disease attributing in origins to an amorous but incautious shepherd named Syphilus. The name, like the disease, caught on.

St. Artemas

Feastday: January 25

Martyr of Pozzuoli, Italy. He is traditionally described as a teenage boy in the Roman Empire who was stabbed to death with iron pens by pagan school classmates.

Artemas prayed to get a perfect score on his trig test. The miracle was granted but it ruined the curve for everyone else. His martyrdom ensued immediately.

St. Artemas is the patron saint of adolescent geeks, the ones who eagerly accept celibacy and who belong to the high school Math Club.

Today is the birthday of Frederick the Great! Genius is rare in royalty; in Prussian royalty it is extraordinary. Frederick was unique: imagine Oscar Wilde with an army. The politics of 18th century was based upon whom his scathing wit had offended. France and Austria had been enemies for 250 years. Frederick brought them together. He had ridiculed Madame de Pompadour, the mistress of Louis XV, for being an overreaching strumpet. Lest you think that Frederick was a self-righteous prig, he taunted the respectable Maria Theresa for her piety and fertility. Austrian empresses do not enjoy being described as broodmares. (Frederick had no empathy with heterosexual activities.) The strumpet and the broodmare overcame their incongruity and formed an alliance. This coalition was joined by Russia; theTsarina Elisabeth had not appreciated Frederick’s quips about her girth.

France, Austria and Russia planned the Seven Years War to be a going-away party for Frederick. Here is my dramatization of that conflict….

FinermanWorks presents: The Seven Years War

based on a farce performed on Frederick the Great

with

Frederick the Great, by his own assessment.

George II, a very German King of England. He is Frederick’s uncle but nothing like him.

Madame de Pompadour, mistress of Louis XV and the real ruler of France

Maria Therese, a nice conservative hausfrau–whose haus happens to the Austrian Empire

Tsarina Elisabeth, the daughter of Peter the Great. She inherited his realm and his size.

Peter III, Elisabeth’s very strange great-nephew and successor

George III, a king of England who finally sounds like one.

(George II and his nephew Frederick are walking down a street.)

Frederick: You actually like Handel? I knew England would ruin your appetite but your hearing too? Still I suppose I would trade places with you. You have non idee how much I hate the sound of German.

George II: You like der army.

Frederick: Well, I do like young men goosestepping.

(The men are suddenly confronted by Tsarina Elisabeth, Empress Maria Therese of Austria and Madame de Pompadour.)

Frederick: Are you three planning to proclaim my uncle the King of Scotland? He already is.

Pompadour: I am sure that you would rather be Queen of France.

Frederick: At least, Madame Fishmonger, with me Versailles would have something brighter than a Hall of Mirrors.

Elisabeth: You are a mean little man.

Frederick: Certainly half your size.

Maria Therese: You are a sacrilegious swine.

Frederick: You confuse my contempt for you with sacrilege. There is a considerable difference. Actually, I rather appreciate your piety and take full advantage of it. “The Austrian army’s idea of military manuevers is to attend mass.” (Actual quote by Frederick)

Pompadour: Let’s see if my nails are as sharp as your tongue.

(She lashes out at Frederick; Elisabeth and Maria Therese join in the assault. George steps aside, keeping a respectful distance from Elisabeth and while making polite overtures to Maria Therese.

George II: How are der children? You are looking vell. I can’t help reminiscing about our old alliance against France.

(However, George does periodically lunge against Pompadour, slugging her in the back, grabbing her jewelry and purse. While Frederick is trying to fend off the assault, his uncle hands him some of Pompadour’s cash.)

George: Keep up der gut fight.

(Then Elisabeth manages to smash Frederick in the head, nearly knocking him out. However, the exertion also kills her. She is succeeded by her great nephew Peter III who has a big surprise.)

Peter: Oh, Frederick, what are those bitches doing to you! I’m switching sides.

Pompadour: That’s an understatement.

George II: Excuse me, I have enjoyed dis immensely but I now must act mein age und die.

George III: I say, what, what. Jolly good war but I think that we should say cheerio.

Frederick: After 46 years of ruling Britain, someone in the royal family finally learned English. Shall we end this war?

Maria Therese: We’ll call it a draw.

Frederick: Since I am still breathing, I’d call it a victory.

Anticipating the need for a Jeopardy category, Emperor Charles VI created the principality of Liechtenstein on this day in 1719. Even if the Holy Roman Empire was–in the words of Voltaire–neither holy, nor Roman nor an Empire, its Emperor still had an important and unique prerogative. He alone could create titles.

In case you were wondering or were nurturing megalomaniacal ambitions, you can’t just declare yourself a King or a Grand Duke. The title has to be officially established. So, who can you charm or bribe? Well, no one now. Even the Pope does not have that authority, although he certainly could add some prestige to your coronation. While the Holy Roman Empire existed, the Emperor alone had the power to create a title.

For example, the de Medicis had more money than God and proved it by buying a Papal election. Yet, they couldn’t get themselves declared Dog Catchers of Tuscany without the consent of the reigning Hapsburg. In fact, when Medici were opposing Emperor Charles V, their social standing was stuck at “upper-middle class.” Once, however, they learned to grovel, the Emperor rewarded their kneeling by elevating them to Grand Dukes of Tuscany.

At the onset of the War of the Spanish Succession, Emperor Charles VI wanted the assistance of the Prussian army. He secured that aid by elevating the rank of the Prussian ruler from elector to King. The newly crowned Frederick I proved that one could social-climb and goosestep at the same time.

The Holy Roman Emperor did not have the power to abolish a title once conferred, but he could always change his mind about creating a title. Charles the Rash (1433-1477) was NOT content to be a mere duke. Ruling an area encompassing modern Belgium and Holland, Charles thought that he had the land, wealth and power worthy of a king. So, in a campaign combining pleas, bribes and military threats, the Duke sought to be elevated to a king. In 1473, Emperor Frederick III finally agreed and arranged to invest Charles at the town of Trier. Meeting the Duke on the eve of the ceremony, the Emperor found him unbearable. Rather than spending another moment with Charles–and making him a King, the Emperor slipped out of town that night. So Charles never got to be a King.

(Ironically, the only child of the Duke ended up marrying the oldest son of the Emperor. However, it was not an awkward wedding. Charles was already dead, having proved his rashness in one battle too many.)

Only one man did not respect the prerogative of the Holy Roman Emperor. Napoleon made himself an Emperor in 1804.

So, perhaps there is still hope for you megalomaniacs.

January 17th A.D. 395: the Emperor Theodosius definitely had a bad day. However, he was one of the few Roman Emperors to die of natural causes.

Theodosius might be considered the true father of the Byzantine Empire. Until him, the Roman Empire had been considered one realm, even if it often had co-emperors to rule (and plot against each other). Theodosius decided simply to divide the empire in two, and it just so happened that he had a son for each half. His son, Arcadius the affable dolt, received the eastern half. It became the Byzantine Empire. His son, Honorius, the degenerate dolt, received the western half. It became a ruin. (Theodosius did have a reasonably bright child, but the Empire wasn’t ready for an Empress. She had the “consolation” of being the mother of an emperor, Honorius’ successor. Unfortunately, her son Valentinan III was just as degenerate as his uncle.)

Theodosius was also the first emperor to enforce the new religion on the Empire. Banning the Olympics was just one of his ways of suppressing the remaining institutions of paganism. Temples, and any of their assets, were seized. Some were converted into churches; many of the oldest churches today quite literally have pagan foundations. The other pagan buildings were used as quarries for their marble and columns; their material ended up in churches, too.

Theodosius’ polices incited a pagan rebellion in western Europe. The pagans’ choice for an Emperor was a grammarian named Eugenius. Since the annals do not record an Emperor Eugenius, you can guess who won.

On this day in 86 B.C., the Roman leader Gaius Marius died.  Being an excellent general, enlightened reformer, and unimaginatively heterosexual, he would never merit a series on PBS or HBO.  Marius never even got a supporting role in a Hollywood epic.  Because of his poor sense of timing, he lived too late for Hannibal and too soon for Spartacus.  (It is Marius’ unique misfortune that Hollywood insists on historical accuracy only where he is concerned.)

Nevertheless Marius has a vicarious glamour.  He married into a family of aristocratic underachievers named Caesar.  With Uncle Marius’ help, young Gaius Julius would amount to something.