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6 Jun. 1857 - Prince Oscar, Duke of Östergötland (later Oscar II) and Sofia of Nassau (in Dutch, Sophia van Nassau, although she herself used Sophie) were married at Biebrich Palace.

The couple arrived in Stockholm on Jun. 18 and were greeted with salutes, singing and cheers that "never seemed to end". Sofia was seen as the solution to the Swedish-Norwegian succession problem and as a future Queen. The Hereditary Prince had died at only 2 years old, and Crown Princess Lovisa were unable to have more children due to health complications. This sent the union into a succession problem, and the hopes were that Sofia and Oscar would produce one or more sons.

At the Royal Palace in Stockholm, she was first presented to the Royal Court and then introduced to the Royal Family. Upon meeting King Oscar I - who by then was severely disabled due to a brain tumour and placed under the regency of Crown Prince Karl (later Karl XV) - she rushed to him, curtsied and embraced him.

Photo 1: Contemporary engraving of Prince Oscar and his wife-to-be (source Mina memoarer III by Oscar II). Photo 2: Portrait of Prince Oscar and Princess Sofia with their four children (photo by W. A. Eurenius & P. L. Quist, 1865).

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5 Jun. 1135 - This is believed to be the date Rikissa of Poland (Polish: Ryksa) and Prince Volodar of Minsk (Belarussian: Валадар) married. Most point towards this being an arranged marriage to benefit Rikissa’s father, the King of Poland.

Around the 1140s, Rikissa popped up in Sweden, and it’s believed that she had “divorced” the Prince, because in ca. 1148, she married Sverker the Elder and thus became Queen of Sweden for a second time.

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"Rābi‘a was a Muslim saint and Sufi mystic. Her contemporaries also considered her a teacher of character. There are strong elements of a Philosophy of Religion in her collection of poems which is one of the earliest to set forth a doctrine of Divine Love. The concepts that she propounds include a daring taxonomy of love and the notion that self-effacement does not erase one’s gender. She thus emphasized that women’s piety is superior to men’s (which suggests a feminist consciousness). Her poems reveal a refined mastery of Arab meters and an intricate reflection on Arabic letters and language. Her writing is part of early Sufi philosophy and has inspired Muslim mystics for centuries, among them luminaries al-Ghazzālī (d. 1111) and Farīd al-Dīn al-‘Aṭṭār (d. 1221). Some of her verses are present in all genres of Arab songs to this day.

Despite her fame as one of Islam’s greatest Sufi saints, the life of Rābi‘a al ‘Adawiyya al-Qaysiyya al-Baṣriyya (A. H. 95–185/C. E. 712–801), as she came to be known, “remains mostly elusive.” A number of Islamic sources state that she was born in Basra, a city founded by Muslims in 16/637 and known for its many ascetics. A more recent study suggests her native city may have been Damascus. Many Islamic biographical dictionaries record 185/801 as the year of her death, while one source indicates the year 135/752. The latter date seems highly unlikely, since Rābi‘a would then have been too young to meet some of the luminaries she is reported to have talked to, and she also would have died too early to have had exchanges with other distinguished visitors whose names have been associated with hers.

On occasion, her first name is given as Rāyi‘a, although this is no great concern since it may be safely imputed to the accidental addition of a diacritical point. The greater biographical question concerns her full name and whether it indicates that Rābi‘a (or her father) became a client to an Arab tribe upon conversion to Islam. And there is also the matter of her having been married or a singing slave-girl before she converted to mysticism. Part of the confusion is due to the conflation of the biographies of several female saints by the same first name or with a similar story. 

Without any question, Rābi‘a left an indelible mark on Islamic mysticism like no other Sufi before her, man or woman. Many of the encounters she is reputed to have had with fellow ascetics (zāhidūn, plural of zāhid) and mystics (ṣūfiyyūn, plural of ṣūfiyy) such as Mālik ibn Dīnār (d. 123/648), Ḥasan al-Baṣrī (d.110/728), Sufyān al-Thawrī (d. 161/777–8), Ibrahīm ibn Adham (d. 165/782) ‘Abd al-Wāḥid al-Zayd (d. 177/793), and Rabāḥ al-Qaysī (d. 180/796) are obviously anecdotal, if only because a look at their respective dates clarifies that Rābi‘a could not possibly have been a contemporary to all of them.

And yet, it is conceivable that the exchanges said to have taken place with some of these very distinguished figures in Islamic tradition belonged to conversations conducted with interlocutors whose names were either lost or less prominent, in order to grant Rābi‘a a higher status. An exception is Ḥadīth-scholar Sufyān al-Thawrī, whose dates confirm him as a contemporary of the saint of Basra and whose name also appears in al-Sulamī’s Memorial. Moreover, as the following will show, the stories involving him strongly suggest that he shared an intimate spiritual bond with her.

Whoever Rābi‘a’s pious visitors were, they all bowed down before her extreme asceticism and the purity of her mystical experience. But this did not prevent them from sometimes provoking her and even testing the sincerity (ṣidq) of her religious sentiments. Agile of mind and never at loss for the right words, Rābi‘a always had the upper hand. One gets the impression that she welcomed the opportunity for verbal jousts. For instance, knowing her love of God, someone hoped to trick her by asking: “How is your love for the Prophet (may God bless and preserve him)?” She replied: “Verily, I love him. But love for the Creator has turned me away from love for created things”. Another visitor inquired about her take on Satan to which she answered: “My love for God leaves no room for hating Satan”.

On occasion, tradition recorded Rābia’s own questions to a number of individuals, making one wonder whether some of her interlocutors were not actually students of hers rather than frequent visitors. For instance, she asked them about “truthfulness” and “generosity,” clearly expecting them to give lacking answers that she would have to—and did—straighten out. Her style is reminiscent of the “What is”-question used among the “acusmatici” in the Pythagorean school. This is not to suggest that Rābi‘a was following the teaching model of this ancient Greek school, only that the parallel questioning style supports the assumption that Rābi‘a was teaching and not just receiving guests.

Some reactions to statements made in her presence, show how annoyed she could be at what she perceived to be pseudo-pious utterances. Sāliḥ al-Murrī(d. 176/792–93), who enjoyed reiterating, “When someone keeps knocking at the door, it will in time open for him,” was admonished by Rābi‘a: “How long will you keep saying that? When was the door ever closed, that it might have to open?” .This sharp riposte clearly suggests that she was in a position of authority when al-Murrī repeated his remark.

If incensed deliberately, Rābi‘a could be punishingly cruel. Thus when Ḥasan al-Baṣrī is said to have invited her to pray with him on the bare surface of a lake, Rābi‘a scolded him for being boastful. She then threw her prayer rug in the air and asked him to join her above the ground, which shamed him endlessly, since he was unable to comply. Naturally, neither of the two saints could have achieved the physical exploits they are credited with (apart from the fact that they couldn’t even have met at a stage in their lives when they were both spiritually mature), but the story nevertheless conveys how strongly Rābi‘a felt the need to correct her fellows, including well-established ones like al-Baṣrī, when she found them lacking in humility.

If nothing else, this “ḥikāya” tells us about how she was perceived. While the details of the sayings and deeds attributed to Rābi‘a may never be validated, nor falsified for that matter, what does come across is that Islam’s mystical tradition considers her a paragon in terms of her austerity, piety, and mystical teaching. Moreover, one senses the respect she was granted is not the expression of mere veneration for a person more advanced on the religious path. Rather, it is coupled with deference to an authoritative figure whose character and teaching were deemed exemplary."

Albertini Tamara, "Rābi‘a al-‘Adawiyya of Basra, 712–801/185–95", in: Waithe Mary Ellen, Boos Dykeman Therese (eds.), Women Philosophers from Non-Western Traditions: The First Four Thousand Years

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Ingeborg Håkonsdatter

Ingebjørg Håkonsdatter (1301–1361) was a Norwegian princess and the only legitimate child of Håkon V Magnusson (r. 1299–1319) [...]. Ingebjørg was brought up at the Norwegian royal court until she married Erik Magnusson of Sweden, Duke of Södermanland, in 1312. This marriage was undoubtedly part of a broader political alliance as Håkon V supported Erik and his brother Valdemar in their struggle against their brother, King Birger Magnusson (r. 1290–1318). The early years of the marriage were relatively uneventful, and Ingebjørg gave birth to a son, Magnus Eriksson, in 1316.

In 1317, however, hostilities between Birger and the dukes broke out once more when Erik and Valdemar were imprisoned at Nyköping Castle at the king’s behest. Ingebjørg immediately sprang into action, mobilizing her husband’s allies and even negotiating with Danish aristocrats for military support against Birger and his ally, Erik VI Menved of Denmark. Dukes Erik and Valdemar were murdered in 1318, but Ingebjørg continued to act in her late husband’s name as duchess dowager. Danish and Swedish aristocrats launched several expeditions against the Swedish Crown, conquering most royal castles and forcing Birger into exile. After the death of Håkon V in 1319, Ingebjørg’s son Magnus acceded to the Norwegian throne, and he was also elected king of Sweden later the same year.

After she oversaw Birger’s deposition and secured her son’s election, Ingebjørg became one of the most powerful political figures in Sweden, and her power and influence in Norway remained considerable. She acted as the de facto leader of the Swedish royal council and controlled an expansive network of castles centered around her stronghold of Varberg. Ingebjørg also took many decisions as a territorial princess, perhaps best exemplified by her abortive expedition to Skåne in 1322, launched in conjunction with her favorite and future husband, the Danish aristocrat Knud Porse. Her uncompromising attitude and reliance on foreign favorites, however, led to growing opposition from the Swedish aristocracy, and her holdings were confiscated and her decision-making powers removed by the royal council in 1326. Following her fall from grace, Ingebjørg lived in close proximity to her son Magnus until she passed away in 1361.

— Beñat Elortza Larrea, "Aristocratic Women as Leaders of Dissent in Medieval Scandinavia: Source Misrepresentation, or Agency through Ultranormativity?", Gender and Protest: On the Historical and Contemporary Interrelation of Two Social Phenomena. The image was taken from here.

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Kleopatra Thea

In dynastic terms, the history of the Seleukid Kingdom between 150 and 121 was dominated by Kleopatra Thea, the wife and queen of three rulers: Alexander Balas, Demetrios II, and Antiochos VII Sidetes. The competing candidates for the throne created an unstable system in which the role of queens increased enormously, becoming a stabilizing factor. This was partly because some male rulers died in battle or were taken into foreign captivity.

Alexander I Balas was probably a natural child of Antiochos IV Epiphanes, like his sister Laodike. The sources do not agree on the matter, but the tradition denying the royal descent of Balas seems to have been formed by the Romans for their own political interests in Syria. When it comes to queens, Kleopatra Thea (married three times), daughter of Ptolemy VI, was imposed on Balas as wife and queen in 150 and won a particular position. This royal couple minted coins with a double portrait of the rulers: Kleopatra is depicted in the foreground. Kleopatra bore Antiochos VI Dionysos, who became the ephemeral child puppet-king of the usurper Tryphon. The sources ascribe the killing of Antiochos VI either to Tryphon or to Demetrios II.

Alexander Balas was overthrown by Demetrios II. Ptolemy VI gave Balas no aid and handed over Kleopatra Thea to Demetrios II (145–139/138) as his wife. This new union produced three children: Seleukos V Philometor, Laodike, and Antiochos VIII Grypos. Demetrios tried to reclaim Babylonia but was defeated and captured by the armies of Mithradates I of Parthia (in the war of 139–138). He spent nine years in honorable captivity in Parthian Hyrkania where he married Mithradates’ daughter Rhodogune. The Parthians intended to use Demetrios II in their policies toward the Seleukid state. Demetrios II’s marriage to Rhodogune, who gave birth to children, was a breakthrough event and symbolic landmark, with the Seleukids, the declining dynasty in Western Asia, becoming the pawns of the Arsakids. In diplomatic-dynastic terms, the Parthians respected the Seleukids because of their high political reputation.

Kleopatra Thea became regent of the kingdom in the absence of her husband Demetrios. She tried to strengthen her dynastic position and married her husband’s brother, Antiochos VII Sidetes. In this intelligent way, she eliminated the threat from Antiochos VII, who would surely have initiated a fight for the throne. Kleopatra did not forget that Demetrios had married Rhodogune, so jealousy played a role (App. Syr. 68). When Antiochos VII took over the throne alongside his powerful consort, the split in the Seleukid dynastic house deepened. Kleopatra Thea bore him five children, three of whom died of disease at a young age. The fourth, Seleukos, was probably detained by the Parthians in 129 after his father’s defeat. The youngest child was Antiochos IX Kyzikenos. Antiochus VII took his juvenile son Seleukos and the daughter of Demetrios II, Laodike, on a campaign. The latter became a wife of the Parthian king Phraates II.94 Seleukos was captured by king “Arsakes,” i.e. Phraates II, and was kept in royal style as a prisoner (Porphyrios BNJ 260 F32.19 = Euseb. I 255–7 Schoene).

In the face of the invasion of Antiochos VII, Demetrios II was released from captivity by the Parthians (130) and made efforts to regain his kingdom (129–125). In 125 he was defeated by Alexander II Zabinas. After Kleopatra Thea refused to help him, he was killed in Tyros. In the face of many coups and dynastic struggles, Kleopatra cleverly sent her two sons, Antiochos Grypos (the “hook-nosed”), by Demetrios II, to Athens, and Antiochos Kyzikenos, by Antiochos VII, to Kyzikos to be educated (App. Syr. 68).

Kleopatra turned out to be a ruthless ruler. Appian reports her atrocities when the infant Seleukos V proclaimed himself king (Syr. 68): “As soon as Seleukos assumed the diadem after his father’s death, his mother shot him dead with an arrow, either fearing lest he should avenge his father or moved by an insane hatred for everybody.” Kleopatra minted coins in her own name (126/125). To strengthen her political position, she shared the throne (124–121) with her son, Antiochos VIII Grypos (Just. 39.1.9). As with Alexander I, the coin portrait of Kleopatra is in the foreground. In 124/123 Ptolemy VIII gave his grand-nephew Antiochos VIII his daughter Kleopatra Tryphaina as wife. A conflict arose between the two ambitious queens, the queen mother and queen consort, i.e. Thea and Tryphaina. When Grypos became more independent, Kleopatra Thea decided to eliminate him, but Grypos killed her first (in 121).

— Marek Jan Olbrycht, "Seleukid Women", The Routledge Companion to Women and Monarchy in the Ancient Mediterranean World (Edited by Elizabeth D. Carney and Sabine Müller)

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Galla Placidia

Galla Placidia was the daughter of the Byzantine emperor, Theodosios the Great. Theodosios had two sons, Arkadios and Honorius who were born to his first wife Aelia Flaccilla in 377 and 384. In 383, Theodosios made Arkadios co-ruler in the East and, in 393 or 394, made Honorius emperor in the West. Galla was probably born in 388 or 389, or perhaps as late as 392, to Theodosios’ second wife, also called Galla (Flavia Galla), who was a daughter of Valentinian I (364–75). Galla Placidia was given estates by her father when she was very young and honoured with the title nobilissima puella. Her mother died in 394, when she was about six, and her father a year later in Milan, where he had a palace. After her father’s death, Galla was brought up by Serena, Theodosios’ niece, and her husband Stilicho, a Vandal, who had been greatly favoured by Theodosios. Galla was intended at least for some time to marry their son, Eucherius. However, both Stilicho, in 408, and Serena also, in the following year, were suspected of treason and put to death by Honorius.

Galla was in Rome from 408 and, when it was besieged by Alaric the Visigoth in 410, she was taken hostage. In 414 she married Alaric’s successor, Ataulph. She soon after bore a son, Theodosios, who died as an infant, and in the same year, 415, Ataulph also died. Honorius brought her back to Ravenna and forced her in 417 to marry a Roman general, Constantius, who was made co-emperor in 421 (Constantius III), but he died seven months later. Galla had two children with him: in 417 or 418 a girl, Honoria and, in 419, a boy, Valentinian. On the death of Constantius, Galla fled with her children from Ravenna to Constantinople, but, after the death of Honorius in 423, she returned to Ravenna and assumed rule in the name of her son, Valentinian III, then aged six, who was made emperor in the West.

Galla led a powerful but complex life, in terms of both family and political connections. She was at the heart of the power struggles between the eastern and the western parts of the Roman empire, the ongoing strategies between the various tribes on the borders of the empire, such as the Vandals and the Visigoths, the balance between the authority of the military and the emperors, the divisions in the church between Orthodoxy and Arianism, and above all the elaborate power balance of the Theodosian dynasty with the complications of young boys elevated to power and intricate interfamilial and diplomatic marriages. She was a central player in these dynamics, as a child the only daughter of a celebrated Roman emperor and his imperially born wife, and as an adult, a strong mother assuming political power.

— Cecily Hennessy, "Patronage and Precedents: Galla Placidia’s chapel in Ravenna and the Holy Apostles, Constantinople", Byzantinoslavica 74 (2016). The picture was taken from here.

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In one of his last interviews, Rick James remembered first seeing her: “I fell in love. Because she was the only girl, the only woman, who was totally cutting edge. I mean, she was what funk was... She was funking! Rock ’n’ rolling. Doing it all. And she was Black! She had the biggest Afro. She was wearing these fly-ass street clothes. She was just free with her stuff, man.”

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Again, interestingly, the Victorians, based on a dodgy sketch that we now no longer think is her, came up with the idea of her being very short and plump or curvaceous. That's actually not backed up; she's described as very little so the height they get right. We wouldn't be seeing a tall person walking towards us. We would be seeing someone quite thin, slender is the word used. But the word over and over again is beautiful, they just say she's very beautiful. A palace servant called William Thomas, who at this point worked for John Dudley, so he worked in and around where we're standing, but he went later on to become a clerk of the privy council, he says she was a great beauty. So we don't exactly know apart from the fact slender, short, and beautiful. That's it.

The Six Tudor Queens, Catherine Howard - Historic Royal Palaces Podcast, featuring Gareth Russell

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1815 / 1795

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Beautiful and clever, Maria of Trebizond (c. 1404–1439) was the last crowned Byzantine empress. Active and dearly loved, she lived through the twilight years of the empire.

A homeland in peril

Maria was the daughter of Emperor Alexios IV Megas Komnenos of Trebizond and his wife, Theodora Kantakouzene. The Empire of Trebizond was a Byzantine successor state that emerged following the sack of Constantinople in 1204. Maria had four siblings and, according to all contemporary sources, was a woman of striking beauty.

Between 1426 and 1427, her father was approached by Cardinal Bessarion, who requested Maria’s hand in marriage on behalf of John VIII Palaiologos (1392–1448), the penultimate Byzantine emperor. At the time, Trebizond was facing severe challenges: external invasions, internal instability, and family rivalries. Her brother Alexander would later be forced to flee and join Maria in Constantinople. This marriage thus offered both a valuable alliance and an escape from a precarious situation.

Maria arrived in Constantinople by boat on August 29 or 30, 1427, and married John VIII in September of that year. John had been married twice before, though both unions were nominal. The emperor was a scholarly man, fond of hunting, and known to enjoy Western secular music.

The city that greeted Maria was a mere shadow of its former glory. The Byzantine Empire, much diminished in size and power, was struggling to survive.

Loved beyond measure

John and Maria’s marriage was happy, marked by affection and mutual respect. The Ecthesis Chronica records that John loved her “beyond measure” for her beauty and wisdom.

The Castilian traveler Pero Tafur described their palace life in evocative detail:

"The Emperor's Palace must have been very magnificent, but now it is in such state that both it and the city show well the evils which the people have suffered and still endure. At the entrance to the Palace, beneath certain chambers, is an open loggia of marble with stone benches round it, and stones, like tables, raised on pillars in front of them, placed end to end. Here are many books and ancient writings and histories, and on one side are gaming boards so that the Emperor's house may always be well supplied. Inside, the house is badly kept, except certain parts where the Emperor, the Empress, and attendants can live, although cramped for space. The Emperor's state is as splendid as ever, for nothing is omitted from the ancient ceremonies, but, properly regarded, he is like a Bishop without a See."

Maria went hunting with her husband or alone. She frequently rode on horseback and did so astride. The contemporary traveler Bertrandon de la Broquière once saw her as she had left the palace to dine elsewhere:

"She did not have with her more than two ladies and two or three noblemen and three such men as the Turks have to guard their wives. And when she came out from the inn a bench was brought on which she stepped and then a very handsome horse (ronchin) saddled with a richly decorated saddle was brought for her. One of the noblemen approached the bench and took the long coat which she wore and went to the other side of the horse and liſted the coat as high as he could. She then placed the foot in the stirrup, and like a man mounted the horse. He then placed the coat over her shoulders and put one of the long, pointed hats of Greece which bears along the said top three golden feathers and which fitted her very well. She seemed to me as beautiful as before. (...) She wore make up, which was unnecessary because she was young and fair-skinned. In each ear she had a hanging earring, large and flat bearing several stones, mostly rubies."

Though her political involvement was discreet, it was nonetheless real. Maria likely participated in patronage, as her name appears in several documents and on buildings. Her husband also valued her counsel.

The parting

By the 1430s, the Byzantine Empire was in crisis, with the Ottomans gaining territory steadily. In a desperate attempt to secure military aid, John VIII traveled to Italy in the winter of 1437 to negotiate a church union with the Catholic Church.

The journey and the council were grueling for John, who suffered from gout: he could ride, but not walk. In his absence, it seems that Maria and her mother-in-law, Helena Dragaš, played a role in governing the city. On one occasion, Maria even dispatched officials to update her husband on conditions in Constantinople. She also wrote him letters.

When the Patriarch Joseph died in Florence, John refused to appoint a successor until he had consulted both his mother and Maria.

During that period, Maria once again received Pero Tafur, who had recently traveled to Trebizond. She eagerly asked about her homeland. After he shared news of her family, she replied "You could not have done more if you had been of our nation."

The fatal comet

While John was still abroad, Maria fell ill. Her death was said to have been foretold by the appearance of a comet. She died on December 17, 1439, and was buried in the Pantokrator Monastery during a storm.

News of her death was withheld from John until his return to Constantinople. His advisors feared that his grief would delay their already difficult journey home.

It was thus his mother, Helena Dragaš, who broke the news upon his return to the capital in 1440—six weeks after Maria’s death. John mourned deeply and never remarried. When he died in 1448, he was buried in Maria’s tomb. He was succeeded by his brother, Constantine XI, the last Byzantine emperor.

If you enjoy this blog, consider supporting me on Ko-fi!

Further reading:

Melichar Petra, Empress of Late Byzantium

Philippides Marios, Constantine XI Dragaš Palaeologus (1404-1453): The Last Emperor of Byzantium

Tafur Pero, Travels and Adventures

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"Byzantium has a reputation for misogyny and is often dubbed a patriarchal state. Certainly there were misogynists in Byzantium and they were in a position to be heard at the time and to leave behind evidence of their opinions. As members of the educated clergy or literate ascetics, they were respected for their holiness by their contemporaries and their writings were collected and copied for the benefit of the next generation. They survive for historians to study because they were important in their own time. But the prevalence of unflattering opinions or prescriptive denouncements on women signals several things. As in the case of all frequently voiced material, whether it is a law or a sermon, its very frequency often betrays that its demands are not being obeyed. It has been said that the perennial problem of a patriarchal society is that women are absolutely crucial to its continuance but they must never be allowed to realise their importance or act on it. Byzantium recognised the importance of women in economic terms and in terms of their function as child-bearers, particularly in law.

Divorce by consent was permitted until the sixth century. Thereafter there was a list of reasons for which divorce was allowed: adultery, impotence, madness, and treason. The church saw marriage as a union of two people intended by God to last until the death of one of the parties. The consequences of this development for women can be argued two ways. In one way, easy divorce disadvantaged women because their husbands could legally dispose of them in favour of a younger or prettier woman; alternatively, they themselves could also escape an unhappy marriage more easily. On the other hand, the church, while insisting that the union was indissoluble, also advocated choice in marriage, a novel development for a culture which had not previously consulted a woman’s preferences. However, the list of possible reasons for divorce was more comprehensive for men, including in some ages a wife displeasing her husband by staying out of the house for too long. Another new development was the licence allowed by the church if one of the parties wished to enter the monastic life. Either a husband or a wife could divorce their spouse to take holy vows: sometimes a virtuous couple separated to live in different monasteries after their children were grown up.

A woman’s rights over her dowry, the property a woman took from her family to a marriage, were vigorously defended. Because so much property was tied up in marriage, property disputes are one of the most common areas in which to see the law applied to women. The dowry belonged to the wife, although her husband could administer it. If he allowed it to diminish, the wife could administer it herself. The wife also had the full ownership and use of the nuptial gift from her husband, which was given at marriage and which was set at a percentage of the dowry. Of course both dowry and nuptial gift were intended to benefit the children of the marriage ultimately, and should the wife die before her husband, the children were next in line to inherit it before their father. When the man of the family died, his widow was the natural guardian of their children and the estate. As head of the family, she had all the responsibilities of a man and the legal authority to carry them out. On her shoulders rested estate administration, and the education, dowering and marriage of the children. This included the administration of the empire if the widow was an empress. Widowhood was the most powerful position that a woman could hold as far as legal rights went. On remarriage, the widow normally lost all control over her first family, and of the property of the family, except for her nuptial gift.

Remarriage was therefore a disabling option for women. This was not the only restriction on their activity. The emperor Leo VI (886–912) had forbidden women to appear as witnesses or to give testimony in court. He felt that it violated the natural order of things. Despite this law, many women did appear on their own behalf, especially well-born or rich women. There were other strange assumptions enshrined in the law which do not shine a favourable light on the morals of Byzantine men or the expected intelligence of Byzantine women. For example, women were unpunished in many cases because they could not be expected to understand the law or to know the difference between right and wrong, since they were women. The only crimes for which a woman was normally convicted were murder and adultery.

Byzantine women were not cloistered and they were not subject to constricting dress codes. But it was not usual to see many women on the streets, and it was usual for them to wear a veil. Often a contemporary historian will make a point of describing women in the streets or tearing their veils to emphasise how shocking an event was. The eleventh-century mumblings of the old general Kekaumenos about the wisdom of keeping your womenfolk from meeting strange men in your own house and the dangers that could result show that normally women were at large in their own homes. Although the empress had ‘women’s quarters’ in the palace these were only curtained off from the main receiving rooms and men were certainly allowed into them. There was a separate room, covered in purple, in which the empress spent her last days of pregnancy and gave birth. This gave rise to the epithet ‘purple-born’ or *porphyrogennitos which designated the legitimate children of the emperor. In these quarters in her last days of pregnancy she probably sewed clothes for the forthcoming child. Clothes-making was one of the most important activities of women of all social levels, although it was by no means their only commercial activity. Documents survive revealing women’s activities in retail trade, group exploitation of mines, production and sale of food, and investment in long-distance trade. The aristocratic widows mentioned above often managed the fortune of the family directly, not only the day-to-day running of the estate. This commercial activity necessitated contact with the world of men to an extent which seems at odds with the dominant ideology of female submission propounded by the early church fathers of Byzantium."

Imperial Women in Byzantium 1025-1204: Power, Patronage and Ideology, Barbara Hill

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"The new Queen processed with such gravity and grace that she seemed born to the purple. Though small in stature, she carried herself so upright in her gold mantle that all remarked how she outshone even the jewels of her crown." — Calendar of State Papers, Venetian, Vol. 2 (1867), ed. Rawdon Brown, p. 2 (Andrea Badoer to the Signory, July 1509)

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Ladislaus II Jagiello + women in his life

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"In Adernò (Catania), a grief-stricken Gaetana Stimoli, believing a neighborhood witch responsible for her two children's deaths, enacted a terrible revenge. From September 5th to October 8th, 1895, Stimoli, with the help of seven others, enticed ten innocent village children before administering fatal poisons, leading to their tragic demise."

Bulletin of the Royal Carabinieri, 1895, p. 56 (my translation)

In September of 1895, a chilling mystery gripped Adernò (modern-day Adrano), a prosperous town near Catania. A mysterious affliction began claiming the lives of children between the ages of 4 and 16. The young victims endured agonizing pain and violent vomiting before succumbing. Some even vanished without a trace. Terrified parents whispered of a witch's curse, their fear palpable as the inexplicable deaths continued.

The truth began to unravel on October 12th. A distraught couple arrived at the local Carabinieri station, their son gravely ill with the same excruciating pains and vomiting. Sergeant Giovanni Colombo listened intently. A doctor, summoned to examine the child, quickly recognized the unmistakable signs of poisoning. Miraculously, the dose proved non-lethal in this instance, turning the tide of the investigation. This wasn't a plague; it was a deliberate act of malice.

The young survivor, once strong enough, revealed a shocking detail: a woman, Gaetana Stimoli, had offered him sweets and sweet wine just before he fell ill. The revelation sent shockwaves through the community; no one would have suspected a 33-year-old housewife of being a serial poisoner.

The Carabinieri swiftly moved to Stimoli's home. Confronted with her discovery, Gaetana frantically tried to end her own life, attempting to slash her throat with a piece of broken glass. Her attempt was thwarted, and she was arrested alongside her husband and several family members. To prevent a mob lynching, she was immediately transferred to Catania.

Initially, Stimoli vehemently denied everything, but the truth soon emerged. She confessed to the poisoning and murder of 23 children. Her motive was born from a profound and twisted grief: the recent deaths of her own two children, whom she believed had been hexed (strogati) by a witch. Driven by this dark conviction, Gaetana sought a horrific revenge, not only on the supposed culprit but on every single child in Adernò. She admitted she "couldn't stand seeing the other parents being happy." Her depravity knew no bounds, as she even poisoned her own sister's only child. She meticulously crafted a deadly concoction of phosphoric acid and the juice of carramuni (Bivona's spurge), using it to coat homemade sweets or mix into sweet drinks she offered to unsuspecting children.

Despite the horrific nature of her crimes, Gaetana Stimoli was deemed competent to stand trial. During interrogations, she chillingly revealed the burial sites of only 10 victims, stubbornly refusing to disclose the locations of the remaining children. She was ultimately sentenced to 30 years in prison, after which she lived out her days quietly, never showing a hint of remorse.

Sources

Bollettino dei Carabinieri reali, 1895

Gaetana’s revenge: 23 children victims of superstition in Italy at the end of the 19th century

Maggi Virginia, Gaetana Stimoli, infanticida siciliana tra magia e medicina

Oliveri Maria, La Mangiabambini di Sicilia, una (orribile) storia vera: ne uccise 23 con il "carramuni"

Salemme Pasquale, Gaetana Stimoli, ho vendicato i miei figli "strogati"

Sanna Andrea, Halloween e l'infanticida Gaetana Stimoli

[historicwomendaily]

Known as “The Captain” and “The Mother of the Nation,” María Remedios del Valle (c. 1766–1847) distinguished herself in the struggle for Argentina’s independence. Her courage and self-sacrifice earned her a place as a national heroine.

A free woman of Buenos Aires

A free woman of African descent, María was born in Buenos Aires between 1766 and 1767. Due to the racial and social prejudices of the time, her freedom afforded her little more than physical mobility. At an unknown date, she married and had two sons—one biological, the other adopted. She also had daughters, though little is known about them.

In 1810, Buenos Aires took its first step toward independence from the Spanish Empire. María was among the women who joined the fight.

On June 20, 1810, she left Buenos Aires with her family, following her husband and sons on a military expedition into the interior provinces led by commander Bernardo de Anzoátegui.

The Captain

María and her family took part in several military campaigns in Potosí (present-day Bolivia). She served as a soldier, spy, and nurse. After her husband and sons died in battle, she continued fighting. She played an active role in two major victories in northern Argentina: the Battle of Tucumán (September 24, 1812) and the Battle of Salta (February 20, 1813). It was during this time that soldiers began calling her “The Mother of the Nation.”

Observers praised her courage, selflessness, and generous spirit. She cared for the wounded and sick, washed and mended clothes, fought in battle, and suffered six serious bullet wounds. She also engaged in espionage to foment uprisings. According to one testimony, she was “in competition even with the bravest soldier,” and her contributions were appreciated by all.

As a result, she was promoted to the rank of Captain. During the Battle of Ayohuma, she was joined by her two daughters, and carried jugs of water to the soldiers as long as the gunfire lasted.

After the defeat at Ayohuma, María was captured by the Spanish for aiding prisoners in their escape. She was harshly treated and publicly flogged for nine consecutive days.

The fight for a pension

María’s whereabouts after Ayohuma are largely unknown, and the remainder of her military career is shrouded in obscurity. In 1826, she petitioned the government for a pension. Argentina’s highest-ranking military leaders supported her request. Though initially denied, María persisted. In 1828, she was promoted to the rank of Sergeant of Cavalry, and in 1829, her name was included among the senior military staff.

In 1830, she was officially granted a pension corresponding to the rank of military commander, which she received until her death on November 8, 1847.

Thanks to the efforts of various organizations, María’s legacy has been revived in recent years. In 2013, the Argentine government established the “Day of Afro-Argentines and Afro-Culture” in her honor. A monument was erected to commemorate her, and her face now appears on the 10,000 pesos banknote.

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Further reading:

Guzmán Florencia, Edwards Erika Denise, “María Remedios del Valle, Nineteenth-Century Argentina”, in: Ball Erica L., Seijas Tatiana, Snyder Terri L. (eds.), As if She Were Free, A Collective Biography of Women and Emancipation in the Americas

Mitrovich Valentina, “María Remedios del Valle, la capitana de la patria"

"Quién fue María Remedios del valle?”

[historicwomendaily]

Female detective, Serio-Comic Journal (1885)

"A man walked into the shop. It was November 1883 and the high street in Chipping Barnet was beginning to look festive in anticipation of Christmas. There were likely oranges piled in pyramids, chestnuts in boxes packed with straw alongside red and green apples and mottled pears, brought by horse and cart to the great markets at Covent Garden from the orchards of Kent.

The woman behind the counter looked the man up and down. Jemima Davis was the shopkeeper’s wife. At thirty-seven, she had four children (Martha, Adelaide, Hector and Maud) and had been married to George, fishmonger and greengrocer, for almost a decade. She knew her apples, and this customer looked like a bad one. He paid a florin for a couple of bloaters (smoked herring) and, after handing him his change, she inspected the two-shilling piece closely. Jemima had seen forged coins before. Often the queen’s head was badly imitated; sometimes the lettering was wrong, or they felt suspiciously light in the hand. There were hundreds of snides – false coins – in circulation, defrauding honest shopkeepers like herself. She was sure this was one of them.

Jemima glanced up from the till. The man had melted. She rushed after him into the street; he was nowhere to be seen. At this point, most shop owners would have folded their arms and written off the transaction as one of those many irritations with which existence is rife. But Jemima Davis was not that kind of woman. She ran along the High Street, peering in at each shop window. There he was! The man was taking tea in a coffee shop. Jemima trailed him to a sweet shop. When she asked behind the counter if she could see the half-crown he had tendered, she saw immediately that this coin, too, was bad. The same was true of the chemist he visited next. Certain now that the man was not just an unlucky punter who had been given one bad coin while shopping, but was himself a counterfeiter, Jemima ran to fetch a policeman.

Constable Bristow, whether out of inexperience or nerves, headed off in the wrong direction to arrest the suspect: he went back to the chemist. Jemima’s aim was surer. She caught up with the man in the baker’s, further along Chipping Barnet High Street, where he had just used false coin to buy some buns. Jemima confronted him and pushed him back into the shop, from which he was trying to beat a hasty retreat. She grabbed his bag. There was a struggle. When the man tried to escape, she seized firm hold of him. And, despite the fact that he ‘threw her through the shop window’, she succeeded in holding him fast and long enough that PC Bristow caught up and the suspect was apprehended.

Thomas Wise (forty), a blacksmith who had been working in Liverpool, was found to have twenty-three counterfeit half-crowns and four counterfeit florins on his person, wrapped in a kid glove. He claimed that he had found the hoard by accident in a gypsy encampment, but this story failed to impress the magistrate, who sentenced him to twelve months with hard labour. Jemima Davis’s capture of the ‘smasher’, or forger, was commemorated in several newspapers.

For the modern reader who visualises the Victorian period chiefly through novels written by and for middle-class men and women, Jemima’s actions are significant because they remind us that working-class women’s bodies and behaviour did not adhere to the constraints we often imagine governed female physicality in the period. We are more accustomed to scenes in which Victorian women faint, paint and look out of windows than scenes in which women run after criminals, wrestle with them and are thrown through windows."

The Mysterious Case of the Victorian Female Detective, Sara Loge

[historicwomendaily]

​​The rationale was the same in the nineteenth century as it had been in the early fifteenth, when the practice originated: if every dynastic male was eligible for the throne, each required and deserved a politically savvy mother whose life was devoted to his cause. Roxelana shouldered the burden of parceling her loyalties among her sons, arguably the most difficult challenge encountered by any Ottoman consort. — Empress of the East: How a European Slave Girl Became Queen of the Ottoman Empire (2017), Leslie P. Peirce