Herodotus On How The Scythians Buried Their Kings

A Greek Portrayal of a Scythian Archer

The tombs of their kings are in the land of the Gerrhi, who dwell at the point where the Borysthenes is first navigable. Here, when the king dies, they dig a grave, which is square in shape, and of great size. When it is ready, they take the king’s corpse, and, having opened the belly, and cleaned out the inside, fill the cavity with a preparation of chopped cypress, frankincense, parsley-seed, and anise-seed, after which they sew up the opening, enclose the body in wax, and, placing it on a waggon, carry it about through all the different tribes. On this procession each tribe, when it receives the corpse, imitates the example which is first set by the Royal Scythians; every man chops off a piece of his ear, crops his hair close, and makes a cut all round his arm, lacerates his forehead and his nose, and thrusts an arrow through his left hand. Then they who have the care of the corpse carry it with them to another of the tribes which are under the Scythian rule, followed by those whom they first visited. On completing the circuit of all the tribes under their sway, they find themselves in the country of the Gerrhi, who are the most remote of all, and so they come to the tombs of the kings. There the body of the dead king is laid in the grave prepared for it, stretched upon a mattress; spears are fixed in the ground on either side of the corpse, and beams stretched across above it to form a roof, which is covered with a thatching of osier twigs. In the open space around the body of the king they bury one of his concubines, first killing her by strangling, and also his cup-bearer, his cook, his groom, his lacquey, his messenger, some of his horses, firstlings of all his other possessions, and some golden cups; for they use neither silver nor brass. After this they set to work, and raise a vast mound above the grave, all of them vying with each other and seeking to make it as tall as possible.

When a year is gone by, further ceremonies take place. Fifty of the best of the late king’s attendants are taken, all native Scythians- for, as bought slaves are unknown in the country, the Scythian kings choose any of their subjects that they like, to wait on them- fifty of these are taken and strangled, with fifty of the most beautiful horses. When they are dead, their bowels are taken out, and the cavity cleaned, filled full of chaff, and straightway sewn up again. This done, a number of posts are driven into the ground, in sets of two pairs each, and on every pair half the felly of a wheel is placed archwise; then strong stakes are run lengthways through the bodies of the horses from tail to neck, and they are mounted up upon the fellies, so that the felly in front supports the shoulders of the horse, while that behind sustains the belly and quarters, the legs dangling in mid-air; each horse is furnished with a bit and bridle, which latter is stretched out in front of the horse, and fastened to a peg. The fifty strangled youths are then mounted severally on the fifty horses. To effect this, a second stake is passed through their bodies along the course of the spine to the neck; the lower end of which projects from the body, and is fixed into a socket, made in the stake that runs lengthwise down the horse. The fifty riders are thus ranged in a circle round the tomb, and so left.

Such, then, is the mode in which the kings are buried.

Source:  The Internet Classics Archive

The Ancient Town of Ostia

 

Ostia was the port of Roma… it’s no longer on the Tiber River (silted up, time tends to scoot things away)… I want to go here…

 

And Now For A History Lesson… Starring Justinian & Theodora

Justinian and his bunk ass wife, Theodora, were two awesomely frightful bytches.   This was bad news for the poor bastards that lived under their rule (c. early 6th century CE), but good news for me because it makes for some damned exciting reading. 
Their debauchery and demonhood was documented in Procopius’ Secret History (also known as The Anecdota).   Justinian was the ‘Christian’ ruler of the Late Roman period who built the famed and fabled Hagia Sophia (The church of Holy Wisdom), but bytch was NOT a Christian.  He was a demon!  Or so says Procopius…
A few words about Procopius:  He was the secretary to Justinian’s general, Belisarius.  Belisarius was a good general.  He was also a way better man than the Emperor Justinian, and Procopius tended to respect him.  Procopius was a writer of History.  He wrote two volumes chronicling Justinian’s reign that showed the Emperor in a good light because that’s what writers of History had to do back in the day if they wanted to remain unmurdered. 
The Secret History was written while no one was looking.  Hello!  That’s why it’s phucking called The “Secret” History… I think Procopius emailed it to PostSecret, but I can not be sure about this.  The book  wasn’t even authorized, but common sense seems to point to the fact that Procopius wrote it, even though it pretty much contradicted everything he had previously written.  On purpose, though!   It was his ancient E! True Hollywood story.  He wrote it!  He so did.
Basically he found Justinian and his wife revolting.  Here is some of what he had to say about Justinian (I was going to add some passages about Theodora but I kind of don’t feel like doing that anymore):

“. . . I, like most of my contemporaries, never once felt that these two were human beings:  they were a pair of blood-thirsty demons and what the poets call ‘plaguers of mortal men’.  For they plotted together to find the easiest and swiftest means of destroying all races of men and all their works, assumed human shape, became man-demons, and in this way convulsed the whole world.”

Proof that he was, in fact, demon:

“Some of those who were in the Emperor’s company late at night, conversing with him . . . thought they saw a demonic  form in his place.  One of them declared that he more than once rose suddenly from the imperial throne and walked  round and round the room . . . and Justinian’s head would momentarily disappear, while the rest of his body seemed to continue making these long circuits. . . A second man said that he stood by the Emperor’s side as he sat, and saw his face suddenly transformed into a shapeless lump of flesh:  neither eyebrows nor eyes were in their normal position, and it showed no other distinguishing feature at all; gradually, however, he saw the face return to its usual shape.”

Procopius hastens to add that:

“I did not myself witness the events I am describing, but I heard about them from the men who insist that they saw them at the time.”

Hahahahahahhaa!
More proof!  This time we have the story of monk who was ‘highly favored by God’.  He set out to the city of Byzantium to ask Justinian to help out some desert-dwelling people who were going through harsh times):

“On his arrival there he was at once admitted to the Emperor’s presence; but when he was on the point of entering the audience chamber and had put one foot in the door, he suddenly drew it back and retreated.  The eunuch who was escorting him and others who were present urged him to go on; but he gave no answer, and as if he had suddenly gone crazy he dashed away back to the apartment where he was lodging.  When those who accompanied him asked him to explain his strange behavior, we understand that he said straight out that he had seen the King of the Demons in the Palace, sitting on the throne, and he was not prepared to meet him or to as any favor of him.”

I’ve saved the best for last.  All of the above instances naturally forced Procopius to arrive at the phollowing conclusion:

“. . . How could this man be other than a wicked demon, when he never satisfied his natural appetite for drink, food, or sleep, but took a casual bite of the good things set before him and then wandered about the Palace at untimely hours of the night, although he had a demonic passion for the pleasures of Aphrodite?”

asdfghjkl111!!!   

 

Athens…

The Parthenon, of course.  The Temple to Athena Parthenos (maiden, virgin), the patron goddess of Athens.  There was once a ‘battle’ for Athens between Poseidon and Athena.   She obviously won, but I will tell the tale, anyway.  At the time, the city was ruled by a King named Cecrops.  He was maybe half-snake, but I’m going to apply the ‘one-drop’ rule here and call him a snake king just because I’m bored.

Poseidon struck a rock or something on the acropolis and a spring of water surged.  Athena produced an olive tree, and the olive tree was deemed more useful.

Poseidon was said to have flooded Athens in a pissed off rage…

* More on the Parthenon HERE.

BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH

 

Today is the Ides of March.   The Romans had a very odd way of keeping their calendar, and all this means is that it is the middle of the month.  Usually the 15th.  Some months, however, the Ides falls on the 13th.  Julius Caesar’s soothsayer (or whatever the phuck you call those people) told him to “Beware the Ides of March,”  but Caesar went about his business as usual and got murdered in a theater at the foot of a statue of Pompey Magnus, the general he defeated at Pharsalus. 

The senate had been conducting business in this theater for reasons I forget.   Anyway, Caesar was stabbed a whole bunch of times, and this is where he uttered the famous line:  “Et tu, Brute?”  Because his good friend, Brutus delivered the coup de grace or something.   I’m being ultra silly.   Tired.  Woo-hoo!

Actually, Caesar probably never actually literally said this to Brutus.   That line is actually from Shakespeare’s eponymous play.   According to Suetonius (who I talk about a lot, he is after all, my very dead and very ancient boyphriend), if Caesar said anything to Brutus, he said it in Greek, and not Latin.   And that would be: “Kai su, teknon,” meaning “you too, my child?”

That was a bloody mouthphul.  

In modern days, the phrase signifies any sort of impending doom.  I wonder if that’s why the number 13 has bad connotations.  Probably not.  Who cares. 

*  Incidentally, that group called “Anonymous” is staging a mass protest against the Church of Scientology today.   That is not a coincidence.   

*  In Rome, this group of mental wetodds is doing their annual toga run in the Forum to commemorate the assassination of Caesar.  I call them wetodds, but I secretly wish I was amongst them.  Oh yes, I do.   That’s also their picture I snatched.  It’s bloody cool.

The First Emperor Of Rome Was A Dichotomous Bytch

^ Not an actual picture of Octavian and Cleopatra.  It’s a still from that flawed but scrumptious series from HBO. 

I am going to gloss over an awful lot of information about  Augustus.  Most of it you already know:   that he was the first emperor of Rome, that he was Julius Caesar’s adopted son (actually the daughter of his niece, Atia) and that after Caesar’s assassination on the Ides of March 44 BC, he became his rightful heir.

Augustus was all of 19 years old when he set out to avenge the murder of his “father.”  He was also largely unpracticed on the battlefield, often in poor health, and written off by the Senate (led by Cicero)who were under the false impression that they could play him like fiddle.  

They were so wrong.   Underneath the youthful exterior, he was a cold, calculating son of a bytch.   If you saw any of HBO’s Rome they sort of nailed his characterization.  That was one of the only things that series was spot on about, though.    

Oh, one point I should make:   Augustus was not his birth name.  The name “Augustus” (exalted one) was conferred on him by the Senate in 27 BC.  This was done because he had basically ended the civil wars that had plagued the city ever since the death of Caesar and because he had ”restored the Republic”.

He was born Gaius Octavius in 63 BC.  His name, at the time of his adoption by Caesar became Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus, though he much preferred folk to go ahead and call him ‘Caesar’ for obvious reasons.  Out of all the emperors (and most especially the Julio-Claudians), Augustus is painted as the benevolent ruler par excellence.  In some parts of the empire he was seen as a messianic figure, and in a way I suppose he was.  He ended the bloodshed and brought peace and prosperity to Rome.  He also reformed the army, ushered in the golden age of Latin  literature and made the city worthy of being called the capital of the world.  

No small feat.

Exciting Stuff! The Proscriptions!

There is always a risk when you talk about historical stuff relying solely upon your memory.  There’s always the chance that you’re slanting shit, forgetting shit, making up shit, or are plain ephing wrong about shit.  Thus, historically themed posts have been few and far between here because it is not in my best interest to mislead or give faulty information and I don’t have all that much time to check up on my facts.  

Besides, when I get on here i.e., log into WordPress I just want to be silly because (to be quite blunt)  my life BLOWS CHUNKS right now. 

I have been sans the boyfriend for about a month now.   Makes me sad.  I refuse to call him and I guess the same goes for him as pertaining to me.   Whatever.  I think I already know who I want my next boyfriend to be.  And even though you don’t know him, you should send up a general prayer for him and all other souls who have been marked for ruin.

PROSCRIPTION.

(I know, right? That was the slickest transition evers!)  Out of all the carnage I have come across whilst I have studied the history of the Ancient Roman peoples, the Proscriptions stick out in my mind.  Because they were so cold blooded. 

Proscription was a way of getting rid of political enemies when a new power assumed control.  Sort of.  To be proscribed meant to be put on a list that basically said your ass was dead meat and that anybody who wanted to kill your ass would be monetarily rewarded by the state provided they had proof that they killed you.   There is a classier definition I’m stealing it from one of my professors and it goes something like this:  “To be proscribed meant your life was forfeit.”  Booyah.

The first official proscription was carried out by Sulla in 82 B.C.   He was sort of a brutal, nasty dude.  His proscription list started with 80 names but it sort of kept growing as the days went by.  It was pretty ridiculous.  Allegedly some rather bold and ancient smart ass told him:  “We are not asking you to absolve from punishment those you have decided to kill . . . but to absolve from uncertainty those you have decided to keep alive.” [1]   An eloquent way to say “Who ain’t you gonna kill mothaphucka?!”  Hahahahaha! That kills me and I don’t know why!

I mentioned something earlier about political enemies being the persons who were proscribed.  Not so much all the time. 

This was obviously more sinisterly inspired than that.  Plus, who would argue with the dictator of Rome when he called someone a political enemy?    These killings  were also a way to usurp property.   Actually, that was probably the motive 99% of the time.   So sayeth my ancient boyfriend, Plutarch:   ”Only a tiny portion of the dead were killed because they had angered or made an enemy of someone; far more were killed for their property, and even the executioners tended to say that this man was killed by his large house, this one by his garden . . . .” [2]  That makes me laugh too, by the way. 

If it makes you feel any better, Sulla’s evil arse died from an intestinal ulcer that caused his flesh to rot and develop lice. [3] 

Herodotus: On Cats In Egypt c.500 B.C.

The number of domestic animals in Egypt is very great, and would be still greater were it not for what befalls the cats.  As the females, when they have kittened, no longer seek the company of the males, these last, to obtain once more their companionship, practise a curious artifice.  They seize the kittens, carry them off, and kill them, but do not eat them afterwards. Upon this the females, being deprived of their young, and longing to supply their place, seek the males once more, since they are particularly fond of their offspring. On every occasion of a fire in Egypt the strangest prodigy occurs with the cats.  The inhabitants allow the fire to rage as it pleases, while they stand about at intervals and watch these animals, which, slipping by the men or else leaping over them, rush headlong into the flames. When this happens, the Egyptians are in deep affliction. If a cat dies in a private house by a natural death, all the inmates of the house shave their eyebrows; on the death of a dog they shave the head and the whole of the body.

The cats on their decease are taken to the city of Bubastis, where they are embalmed, after which they are buried in certain sacred repositories. The dogs are interred in the cities to which they belong, also in sacred burial-places. The same practice obtains with respect to the ichneumons; the hawks and shrew-mice, on the contrary, are conveyed to the city of Buto for burial, and the ibises to Hermopolis. The bears, which are scarce in Egypt, and the wolves, which are not much bigger than foxes, they bury wherever they happen to find them lying.

Book II. 66.