#Erected at the end of the 19th century

[ltwilliammowett]

Glossary of Nautical Terms - as used in the late 18th and early 19th centuries

Aft: at or towards the stern or after part of a ship, the opposite of bow.

Aloft: overhead, or above.

Athwart: across.

Bank: a rising ground in the sea, differing from a shoal, because not rocky but composed of sand, mud or gravel.

Becalmed: to halt through lack of wind.

Bow: the foremost end or part of a ship, the opposite of stern.

Bowsprit: a large mast or piece of timber which stands out from the bow of a ship.

Burthen: the older term used to express a ship's tonnage or carrying capacity. It was based on the number of tuns of wine that a ship could carry in her holds, the total number giving her burthen.

Chase, to: to pursue a vessel in wartime with the aim of capturing, acquiring information from her, or destroying.

Colours: the name by which the national flag flown by a ship at sea is known, used to determine nationality.

Dead reckoning: a system of navigation where the position of a ship is calculated without the use of any astronomical observation whatever.

Fair wind: a wind favourable to the direction a ship is sailing.

Fathom: a measure of six feet, used to divide the lead (or sounding) lines in measuring the depth of water; and to calculate in the length of cables, rigging, etc.

Fore: the forward part.

Hail, to: to call to another ship.

Helm: the instrument by which the ship is steered, and includes both the wheel and the tiller, as one general term.

Jib: a triangular sail set by sailing ships on the boom which runs out from the bowsprit.

Jury-mast: a temporary makeshift mast erected to replace a mast that has been disabled or carried away.

Jury-rudder: a makeshift arrangement to give a ship the ability to to steer when she has lost her rudder.

Keel: the lowest and principal timber of a wooden ship - the single strongest member of the ship's frame.

Knot: the nautical measure of speed, one knot being a speed of one nautical mile (6,080 feet) per hour. As a measure of speed the term is always knots, and never knots an hour.

Landfall: the discovery of the land.

Land-locked: sheltered all round by the land, so that there is no view of the sea.

Lead: an instrument for discovering the depth of water, attached to a lead-line, which is marked at certain distances to measure the fathoms.

Lee: the side of a ship, promontory, or other object away from the wind; that side sheltered from the wind. It is the opposite side to windward.

Lee shore: a coastline on to which the wind blows directly - consequently it can be dangerous as the wind tends to force the sailing ship down on it.

Leeward: with the wind; towards the point to which the wind blows.

Letter of Marque: a commission issued in Britain by the Lord High Admiral or Commissioners of the Admiralty authorizing the commander of a privately owned ship to cruise in search of enemy merchant vessels. The letter of marque described the ship, her owners and officers, the amount of surety which had been deposited and stressed the necessity of having all prize vessels or goods seized condemned and valued at a Vice Admiralty Court for the payment of 'prize money'.

Lie-to: to prevent a vessel from making progress through the water - achieved by reducing sail in a gale. The objective is to keep the vessel in such a position, with the wind on the bow, as to ensure that heavy seas do not break aboard.

The Line (or 'Crossing the Line') Sailing across the Equator. Nautical tradition where seamen celebrate the crossing of the equator by dressing up and acting out a visit by King Neptune. Those who have not previously crossed the line are summoned to the court of Neptune for trial, followed by a ritual ducking (in a bathing tub of seawater) and sometimes lathered and roughly shaved.

Mainsail: the principal sail of a sailing vessel.

Mizzen (or mizen): the name for the third, aftermost, mast of a square-rigged sailing ship or of a three-masted schooner.

Muster: to assemble the crew of a ship on deck and call through the list of names to establish who is present and accounted for.

Muster-book: the book kept on board a vessel in which was entered the names of all men serving in the ship, with the dates of their entry and final discharge from the crew. It was the basis on which victuals were issued and payment made for services performed on board.

Pintle: a vertical metal pin attached to the leading edge of the rudder; it is fitted into the metal ring or 'gudgeon' bolted to the sternpost of a vessel. This provides the means for hinging the rudder on the sternpost and allows a rudder to be swung or turned as desired (by use of the tiller); where necessary (ie. when the rudder needs to be removed or repaired) the pintles can be unshipped quickly and the rudder detached.

Port: the left-hand side of a vessel as seen from the stern; also a harbour or haven.

Privateer: a privately owned vessel armed with guns which operated in time of war against the trading vessels of an enemy nation. Each privateer was given a a 'letter of marque' which was regarded as a commission to seize any enemy shipping as a 'prize'. The name 'privateer' has come to refer to both the ship and the men who sailed in her.

Prize: name used to describe an enemy vessel captured at sea by a ship of war or a privateer; also used to describe a contraband cargo taken from a merchant ship. A 'prize court' would then determine the validity of capture of ships and goods and authorize their disposal. 'Prize' in British naval history always acted as considerable incentive to recruitment with many men tempted to join the navy in anticipation of quick riches.

Prize Court: Captured ships were to be brought before prize courts where it was decided whether the vessel was legal prize; if so, the whole value was divided among the owners and the crew of the ship.

Prize Money: the net proceeds of the sale of enemy shipping and property captured at sea - these proceeds were distributed to the captors on a sliding scale from highest rank to lowest seaman.

Road or Roadstead: a stretch of sheltered water near land where ships may ride at anchor in all but very heavy weather; often rendered as 'roads', and does not refer to the streets of a particular port city but rather its anchorage, as in 'St Helens Roads', the designated anchorage for shipping located between St. Helens (Isle of Wight) and Portsmouth, or 'Funchal Roads' at the island of Madeira. (see Elizabeth Macquarie's 1809 Journal).

Quarter: (1)the direction from which the wind was blowing, particularly if it looked like remaining there for some time; (2)the two after parts of the ship - strictly speaking a ship's port or starbord quarter was a bearing 45° from the stern.

Ship: from the Old English scip, the generic name for sea-going vessels (as opposed to boats). Originally ships were personified as masculine but by the sixteenth century almost universally expressed as as feminine.

Shoal: a bank or reef, an area of shallow water dangerous to navigation. Sounding: the of operation of determioning the depth of the sea, and the quality of the ground, by means of a lead and line, sunk from the ship to the bottom, where some of the sediment or sand adheres to the tallow in the hollow base of the lead.

Sound: (1) to try the depth of the water; (2) a deep bay.

Sounding: ascertaining the depth of the sea by means of a lead and line, sunk from a ship to the bottom.

Soundings: those parts of the ocean not far from the shore where the depth is about 80 to 100 fathoms.

Spar: a general term for any wooden support used in the rigging of a ship - includes all masts, yards, booms, gaffs etc.

Squall: a sudden gust of wind of considerable strength.

Starboard: the right-hand side of a vessel as seen from the stern.

Stern: after-part of a ship or boat.

Tack: the nautical manouevre of bringing a sailing vessel on to another bearing by bringing the wind round the bow; during this manouevre the vessel is said to be 'coming about'.

Tide of Flood: the flow of the tidal stream as it rises from the ending of the period of slack water at low tide to the start of the period of slack water at high tide; its period is approximately six hours.

Trade Winds: steady regular winds that blow in a belt approximately 30 N. and 30 S of the equator. In the North Atlantic the trades blow consistently all year round, from the north-east; in the South Atlantic they blow from the south-east, converging just north of the equator. The meeting of the trade winds just north of the equator created the infamous 'doldrums', where sailing ships could be becalmed for days or weeks waiting for a wind to carry them back into the trades.They were known as trade winds because of their regularity, thereby assisting sailing vessels in reaching their markets to carry out trade.

Under way: the description of a ship as soon as she begins to move under canvas power after her anchor has been raised from the bottom; also written as 'under weigh.'

Voyage: a journey by sea. It usually includes the outward and homeward trips, which are called passages.

Watch: (1) one of the seven divisions of the nautical day; (2) one of two divisions of the seamen forming the ship's company.

Wear: the nautical manouevre of bringing a sailing vessel on to another tack by bringing the wind around the stern.

Weather: in a nautical sense (rather than a meteorological) this is the phrase used by seamen to describe anything that lies to windward. Consequently, a coastline that lies to windward of a ship is a weather shore; the side of a ship that faces the wind when it is under way is said to be the weather side a ship, etc.

Weigh: to haul up.

Weigh anchor: the raising of the anchor so that the ship is no longer secured to the sea or river bottom.

Windward: the weather side, or that direction from which the wind blows. It is the opposite side to leeward.

Yard: (1) a large wooden spar crossing the masts of a sailing ship horizontally or diagonally, from which a sail is set. (2) a shortened form of the word 'dockyard, in which vessels are built or repaired.

Sources: JEANS, Peter D. Ship to Shore: a dictionary of everyday words and phrases derived from the sea. Santa Barbara: ABC-Clio, 1993.

The Oxford Companion to Ships & the Sea. (ed.) Peter Kemp. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976.

[mariacallous]

For the first time since World War II, one of Prague’s most historic synagogues has held a Jewish worship service.

Kol Nidre, the introductory service of Yom Kippur, took place in the Klausen Synagogue on Friday night, ending a hiatus that lasted more than 80 years and encompassed both the murder and suppression of Czech Jewry.

Originally erected in 1573 and rebuilt after a fire in 1694, the Klausen Synagogue is the largest synagogue in Prague’s Jewish Quarter and once served as a central hub of Jewish life. It’s known as the home of several prominent rabbis and thinkers, from Judah Loew — a 16th-century Talmudic scholar also known as the Maharal of Prague — to Baruch Jeitteles, a scholar associated with the Jewish Enlightenment movement of the 18th and 19th centuries.

But for more than 80 years after the Holocaust decimated Czech Jews, the Klausen Synagogue held no services.

That was until Friday evening, when about 200 people poured in for a service led by Rabbi David Maxa, who represents Czechia’s community of Progressive or Reform Jews. That community was joined by guests and Jewish tourists from around the world for Yom Kippur, according to Maxa. He saw the moment as a sign of Jewish life resurging in Prague.

“It’s quite remarkable that there is a Yom Kippur service in five historic synagogues in Prague,” Maxa told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

Under German occupation in World War II, the Klausen Synagogue was used as a storage facility. Although the Nazis and their collaborators killed about 263,000 Jews who lived in the former Czechoslovak Republic, they took an interest in collecting Jewish art and artifacts that they deemed valuable enough to preserve. The Jewish Museum in Prague was allowed to continue storing those objects, and the synagogue became part of the museum’s depository.

After the war, there were not enough survivors to refill services in the synagogues of Prague. The country became a Soviet satellite in 1948, starting a long era in which Jews were often persecuted and surveilled for following any religious practices. The last Soviet census of 1989 registered only 2,700 Jews living in Czech lands.

“During Communist times, it was very difficult to relate to Jewish identity,” said Maxa. “People who visited any kind of synagogue were followed by the secret police, and only after the Velvet Revolution in 1989 did it become possible for people to visit synagogues without the feeling of being followed and put on a list.”

After the end of communism, some synagogues returned to use by the few Jews who still identified as such. Two of the six synagogues that still stand in the Jewish Quarter now are in regular use as houses of worship.

But the Klausen Synagogue, which was added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 1982, remained part of the Jewish Museum, hosting exhibitions about Jewish festivals, early Hebrew manuscripts and Jewish customs and traditions.

Museum director Pavla Niklová said returning the synagogue to use for Yom Kippur happened almost by accident. Maxa was asking if she knew about a space large enough to host his growing congregation, Ec Chajim, for the holiest day in the Jewish calendar — its own space, which opened four years ago about a 20-minute walk away, could not accommodate the crowds expected for Yom Kippur.

Since the museum had just taken down its exhibition in the Klausen Synagogue after 28 years, she had an answer. The clean, empty space was ready to be refilled with Jewish life.

Visiting the synagogue just before Yom Kippur, Niklová said she was awed to see the building returned to its original purpose. She hopes that it will continue to be used for large services.

“I felt like the synagogue started breathing again,” she told JTA. “I believe it was a good move to take down the old exhibit, and now we can start anew.”

For many in Prague’s Jewish community, which is largely secular, Yom Kippur is the single most important service of the year. Even Jewish families that suppressed religious practices under Communism often passed on the memory of Yom Kippur, said Maxa.

Maxa founded Prague’s Progressive Jewish community in 2019, responding to a growing number of people who sought to explore their Jewish roots. The community currently has 200 members and adds about five more every month.

“Often, I meet people who simply want to learn about the culture, tradition and religion of their grandparents,” said Maxa. “They say, my grandmother and grandfather were Shoah survivors — can I come and learn more about Judaism? We offer a wide range of activities, including of course regular services, but also educational courses to help these people reconnect with the tradition.”

Maxa, who himself grew up in Prague with little connection to his Jewish roots, wants to revive some of the rituals that threaded through Prague’s pre-war Jewish world — including a tradition of organ accompaniment in the city’s synagogues. On Friday, Jewish organist Ralph Selig performed during his service.

Like many of his congregants, Maxa’s family history intertwines with the losses of the last century. His father came from Prague and survived the Holocaust. He does not know if his father visited the Klausen Synagogue, but he knows it was a familiar part of his world.

“It means a lot for me that the tradition was not exterminated, and that this is coming back, even to a place where no services were held since World War II,” he said.

[throwaway-yandere]

𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗/𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖑𝖊 [Yandere Prince!Scaramouche/Reader]

A/n: After reading so many tyrant otome isekai manhwas, I thought I should give writing one a try... This story ended up being a bit more “real”(?) than OI. And I forgot the isekai part LOL. Love this fic a lot because the (L/n) family says the most banger lines. They spitting facts. Anyways, welcome to another throwaway-thursday, enjoy this one, @vennnnn-diagram because... lol.

Unreliable Synopsis: Exiled in Watatsumi island after publishing two anti-colonial novels outside their homeland, the famous reformist writer and physician (L/n) (Y/n) faces several familial deaths— and it all leads back to one man...

Content Warnings/Tags: Yandere themes, mentions of miscarriage (note: this is because this is very loosely based on a real life hero's biography), "lovers" to enemies, angst, character deaths, church corruption, politics, etc. Prioritize your mental health. The fic is meant to be a bit dark. You can listen to this song for the vibes 💖

"Are you going to Watatsumi Fair, Niwa?"

"Well, of course! The Lector works hard to make sure it's grander each year."

"Our Lector… I hope (L/n) is doing alright. It must be incredibly heartbreaking to lose a newborn son under three hours…"

"Indeed…"

It’s the 19th century and the streets chatter on about the upcoming festival. Seri, mitsuba, yomogi, and shiso— murmurs of food and spices exchanged at the Watatsumi Fair circulated. However, these four wonderful things wouldn't be there without a certain exile transforming the island into a thriving island: Lector (Y/n) (L/n).

Prince Kunikuzushi's most esteemed “rival”.

You were an exemplary philosopher and ophthalmologist who published two novels abroad that reflected Inazuma's social issues and military abuses. Of course, you were born in a noble clan. Only the wealthy can study outside Ritou and attain higher education beyond the basic arithmetic and religion Inazuman Colonizers gatekept your people with. You were slaves.

But these colonizers feared educated colonies would demand rights; hence, after publishing those eye-opening novels, you became Public Enemy #1. Charges against you were not absolved, but Inazumans could not execute you upon arrival. You were not a revolutionary, but a pacifist reformist. You made the government and clergy's behavior known worldwide, hence the military banished you to Watatsumi— another Inazuman colony and barren land. 

Assured that you've done nothing wrong, you stayed in Watatsumi. With nothing but your firm beliefs, your days of exile were your most productive. Using your skills as a physician and some wits on land surveying, you've improved Watatsumi’s quality of life in under 6 months. 

You're far from home with little spare change, yet you provided medicina gratis. With you, you’ve helped open the people’s eyes. 

You lived under the scrutinizing eyes of the Queen, yet you erected streetlights in each dark street. With you, you’ve helped the people see in this dark age. 

And most importantly, you have established Watatsumi's first school.

With you, the people understood the truth of their situation: they had been living under a tyrant’s rule for the past few decades.

And all you asked in return was for the people to help you in your ventures to improve the island's agriculture and spices.

How can the people of Watatsumi not love you for this martyrdom?

“(L/n) is organizing a secret rebellion association planning to overthrow the government”. That was the Queen’s grounds for exile, including false testimonial and documentary evidence. It was obvious that your books were in strong opposition to the current Inazuman Government.

Hence, Archbishop Sangonomiya Umiko was incredibly fond of you.

"I still believe I am innocent of the crime of rebellion, illegal association, and sedition. All I did was publish two novels!" You hummed. "When the Shogun calls for my execution— and she will— do immediately ask for my body. They will likely throw it wherever they please. Worse, Kunikuzushi might use me as his doormat." 

The Archbishop laughed. "I can see that. His Highness does fit that character."

You and Umiko sat far from the festivities. Sangonomiya Umiko was neither friend nor foe. She is the current leader of Watatsumi Island, but she is restricted by the commands of the Queen and her children. Umiko cannot even preach about her true faith, hiding her birthright as the Divine Priestess and instead donning the title foreign title of Archbishop. Even with friendly demeanors, there’s an unmistakable grim air on both your faces.

No passerby would mistake this meeting as a romantic date. You have a wonderful spouse waiting home, appearing as crest-fallen as you do now. 

… But "Spouse" is a rather loose term. You and your partner were forbidden to have a wedding. Prince Kunikuzushi would not allow an exile to marry and no priest would disobey him. Hence, you and your lover decided to merely promise to the God you believe in that you'll remain loyal to one another. That faith and loyalty brought about a prematurely birthed child— who only had three hours to live until his breath was cruelly stripped away…

And historians would attribute your son’s death as a cause for your morbid obsession with your own future execution.

"Kunikuzushi is a personification of what's wrong with the Inazuman Empire," you said casually. "He will be the core of what causes the revolution, not I."

Umiko did not miss the way you addressed the Prince. You spoke without honorifics, an aspect in both Watatsumi and Inazuma's language that is evident in everyday conversations. Most revolutionists emphasize his high station with hatred. You emit those titles and call him by name.

As though it was a habit.

As though you were once friends and more.

"Lector (Y/n), do watch your tongue," she shook her head. "The walls have ears."

"And what if the walls have eyes and ears? They shall see and hear my innocence." You sipped your tea before you snapped your fingers with a grin. "Oh, and do me one last favor. When they'll let me face my executioners, armed with polished guns and a shoveled ground:"

"Only the guilty are shot in the back. Let me face the firing squad and spare my head so that I may die facing the heavens."

A glimpse of (h/c) hair ran past in the streets of Inazuma City, carrying a child in his arms. The child was injured but otherwise “fine”— as fine as children could be amidst the rains of ashy woods and turbulent fires. The city capital reeked of gunpowder and a nauseating metallic scent. The (h/c) haired man may not have any blood relations to the person whom they’re protecting, nor does he know her name, but he held onto the 8-year-old dearly. 

Despite the chaos that surrounded him, your older brother cannot help but think of one hopeful thought:

With the recent loss of (Y/n)’s son, maybe they’d be willing to adopt this little girl as my new niece? 

But all that ended abruptly when a loud voice resonated throughout the streets.

“DON’T LET A SINGLE ONE OF THEM ESCAPE. NO SURVIVORS!”

Prince Kunikuzushi stood proud in the middle of it all. With calm finesse, he ordered the generals to order their soldiers to kill without a hint of remorse. His eyes were dull. All he knew was that his mother wished for the death of revolutionaries hiding in the capital. Whether these rumors were falsehoods or not, the Queen did not care. Fear is the family’s greatest weapon, bloodshed is nothing to them.

Death is nothing for a mother's puppet like him.

The Prince truly didn't have any care for this war. He's only following orders under the reward that he'll be able to have you. It was the Queen's promise, and she had always been relentless in any pursuit of honor and glory.

In return for his familial services, Queen Ei might consider his proposal. The royal family dreaded the death of their former matriarch, Makoto, and the prince showed no attraction to any of his valid consorts. Should he show loyalty to the end, the Queen will allow him to marry anyone to his liking.

That's why he's putting up with this.

He looked at the horizon, seeing nothing but fire instead of the deep ocean.

Why did Watatsumi have to be so far away?

Why did you have to be a sea away?

As fate would have it, a young soldier spotted the two. A hunt between two red-tagged innocent civilians and a greenhorn murderer commenced. Limping slightly, your brother attempted to push down restaurant chairs and other outside furniture in hopes he’d lose track of them.

The soldier did not know that the person he was tracking was your older brother.

Had he known, he would’ve left him alone.

And as much as fortune favors the bold, it was not on your sibling’s side.

The soldier fired his first reckless shot and hit its target.

Your brother stumbled, holding his stomach. He gasped, coughing as he subconsciously let the child go. But he did not fear for his life, but hers. He knew that the child was asleep on a park bench when the horns rang for danger. She was homeless with nothing but bedclothes and a short makeshift blanket, and now she’ll be forced to witness a traumatizing scene.

Poor child… You must be frightened…

I hope…

Your brother remains adamant that the child must live, even as the barrel of the enemy's rifle is pointed at his chest. A look of stern determination, mixed with fear, can be seen in his eyes as he stands his ground despite the threat of death.

That (Y/n) will raise you right…

“S-Scaramouche’s crown's resplendent band shows no natural light. The ocean's glimmer elucidates more hope than your vile scarlet battalions could ever hope for!!!” Your older brother yelled, weakly hiding the child behind him.

The soldier cocked the barrel against his forehead.

“There is no emprise to plundering, to murder and genocide—” he continued, coughing blood at the corner of his lips. “You will all be remembered in history as those who had foolishly paraded without genius. Death has a more ambrosial scent than a life of servitude under your heels.”

SHOT!!!

…

…

“M-Mister?... M-Mister?! MISTER!!!”

The child screamed as your brother fell to the ground. With the remaining humanity the young soldier clung to, he turned a blind eye towards the little one crying silvery tears. Truth be told, the new soldier himself had forgotten what it was he was fighting for. What was the point in this death, this pain, if not to harm both sides? But a good soldier does not question his orders and he leaves the child without a word.

She did not know his name. She did not know his status as a (L/n). She did not know he was the older brother of the famous physician (Y/n) (L/n). She did not know he was a martyr way before his true death.

But she still held his corpse with abandon. His body heat was slowly growing cold. Though her stature was short and small, her tears were heavier than her heart could manage.

(L/n)s may meet horrid ends, but Fate grants you all one last wish.

You all have the privilege of dying whilst facing the heavens, and that is the final honor your brother can carry with him in his passing. 

“My dear, a letter arrived,” your spouse spoke. “It came from your mother…”

It was deep into the night and you had just fixed yourself up for bed, but you’re not one to turn down letters. Perhaps your old friend from Opera Epiclese had sent you a reply? Igniting the nearby lamp, you lovingly kissed their hand before taking the letter.

“Thank you, love,” you cooed. “I’ll surely be writing a letter back, so why don’t you rest before me? I shall accompany you later.”

Leaving them with a blush, you shut the door behind you. Despite the struggles in your relationship, your love for your gorgeous spouse will never disappear over the unplanned loss of your first child.

Unlike Kunikuzushi’s…

You entered the living room and closed the door behind you. A wise decision, given the contents that were about to crush the little mental stability you had left.

“My Dearest (Y/n), It is with a heavy heart and trembling hand that I take quill to convey news that no mother should ever have to write down. As I write these words, tears splotch the paper, and each stroke of the pen is a painful reminder of the sorrow that has befallen our clan. My dearest child, it grieves me beyond measure to inform you that your beloved older brother, (B/n), has departed from this world. The weight of this solemn news rests heavily upon my shoulders, and the burden is almost too much to bear. The tragedy unfolded in the heart of the capital, where (B/n), in an act of unparalleled heroics, sacrificed his own life to save that of a young girl during a merciless ambush. His valor shone through, but the cost is another pain you must bear after the death of your own child. Oh, my (Y/n), the pain is unbearable. I wish I could shield you from this heart-wrenching truth, but I believe in your resilience. The thought that you are in exile, far from my comforting embrace, only adds bitterness to my heart. The cruel hand of fate has robbed you of the chance to bid a final farewell to your dear brother, to stand beside his resting place and pay tribute to his funeral. The distance that separates Ritou and Watatsumi feels insurmountable, and I ache at the thought of your solitary grief. I hope your spouse shall accompany you in these troubled times. In these dark hours, know that you are not alone in grief. Though separated, we mourn the loss of a beloved son and brother, the heir of the (L/n) clan. May time and the tender embrace of cherished memories bring some measure of peace to your soul. With all the love a grieving heart can muster, Mother”

As the ink on your mother's heartbreaking letter crumpled with sorrow in your heavy trembling grip, a weighted silence filled the room. The words she penned— each a painful jab to your psyche— threatened to spill tears you've fought so desperately to hold back for weeks since you didn’t want your spouse to worry.

Before you can succumb to weeping on the floor with a contorted expression and writhing body, the door opens, disrupting your peace. 

Prince Kunikuzushi, adorned with his mother’s feather and opulent regalia, strode into your humble abode with an irritating aura of entitlement. His presence, a stark contrast to the mourning atmosphere, successfully transformed your grief into weaponized spite.

"Still holding another Watatsumi Fair, are we?" he sneered, disdain dripping in every word. The callousness in his eyes and “indifference” to your mourning made the air all the more sharper.

“Why are you here, Your Highness?” You spat out. “Had your clow— soldiers failed to entertain you?”

“They are nearly as boring as your spouse in bed.” He snarled. “And I wager that their lives last longer than they do.”

You bit your tongue. Your spouse had made an effort to teach you not to reply to any insult he had towards them, and you had done decently enough to honor their wishes by merely scowling at the royal instead of equipping any nearby blunt weapon.

“Allow me to ask again,” you forced yourself to be cordial. “What are you doing here, Kunikuzushi?”

The prince clicked his tongue.

“Do I not have the authority to visit you?”

“You do,” you said. “But you do not have the right to barge in as you please, much like how Lord Hiroshi shouldn’t have decided to conquer my homeland Ritou and decide to claim it as Inazuman property for your mother’s ever-so-eternal happiness.”

“He was only claiming what is rightfully ours.”

Prince Kunikuzushi looked over at your bedroom door. You took large steps forward, blocking his way. You won’t allow him to disturb your lover’s good night’s rest.

He frowned.

"You should have been mine," he muttered softly. 

You hated this about Kunikuzushi the most. He speaks with audacity that knows no bounds as he criticizes your spouse, but would sound the most pure when addressing his own emotions. “You should’ve said yes. You should’ve ruled these nations with me, and more. But you threw it all away and for what? Fragile patriotism? You are defending an island that will suffer the same fate as your beloved Ritou.” 

In the eye of this tempest, your mother’s burning words fuels a fire that burns brighter than any royal decree. 

"You speak of love and marriages," you seethed, voice cutting through the tension, "but you know nothing of the bonds that truly matter."

…

…

…

As the realization dawns upon him, his arrogance wavered. 

He had not realized early on that news about your brother’s death had reached you already.

"An accident," he stammered, attempting to deflect blame. "If I knew, I would have spared him in that ambush. I’m not an All-Knowing God, so it’s genuinely just an accident."

With a chilling calmness, you locked eyes with him. "That wasn't an accident— our previous affairs were an accident. What you've done was murder." 

Your words hung in the air, leaving no room for denial.

“I love you,” the prince spoke in near-whisper. “You know better than anyone that I would never do anything to hurt you this bad. You know that I am the voice that called for your exile instead of execution. I never would’ve asked for his death.”

His claim was also true. 

You knew you were the only person who he had fallen for his whole life. You knew because when you were studying abroad, you had strange chance encounters with him. You knew because he was mildly stalking you and would’ve for a long time had you not offered a seat in the library. You knew because he had been a difficult person to court, always bottling his own emotions and lashing out in retorts you had dubbed “adorable” at a time. You knew because he had told you himself years ago that…

"You are insufferable. And yet, I find myself inexplicably drawn to your company. It's horridly vexing. Your presence lingers in my thoughts long after you've departed, like an annoying insect. I must confess, despite my best efforts, I find myself rather fond of you too— ridiculously enough."

... But what you didn’t know during your studies in Fontaine was that Kunikuzushi was the son of the Queen you despised and wrote articles against in editorial jobs to earn not only spare cash but the enlightenment of your people back home. What you didn’t know was that the prince had been sent by his mother to monitor your actions.

What you did not know came to haunt you on your way back home. 

So you rid yourself of these memories and cornered him into a wall, a hand just behind his head. The sound of your hand slamming made the intimidating prince flinch, and he trembled at the dullness of your eyes.

“And yet whose orders was it? Whose order was it to ensure there would be no survivors in that location? WHOSE WAS IT, KUNIKUZUSHI?! ANSWER ME!!!”

Your spouse called your name from the other room. “(Y/n), is everything alright?”

With their voice, your anger faded slightly, yet your breathing remains loud and manic. “I’m alright! Do not leave the room, dear!”

“Scaramouche” took that as an opportunity to digress.

“I saved you from death before. Do not forget that.” His face hardened. “In case you've forgotten, I'm no saint. Many people will want to seek me out and settle the grudges they've built against me, and what better way to avoid that than to route those future seeds of rebellion?” 

The prince took your hand off the wall.

“Mother had enough, she sees no reason to hold back against those who rebel and she had filed an order to reopen your case. And if my blood and hers are the same, I guarantee you that she will only provide you with the worst defense attorney possible. You will surely receive the death sentence.”

He placed your hand on his chest, gripping it so desperately tight to the point of it hurting.

“So choose me,” Kunikuzushi mumbled. “Choose me, and save yourself. Do not follow your brother’s path. Choose me. I’m your only option.”

And heavens above, does he take delight in that.

You met his gaze with a resolute determination. 

"I appreciate your offer," you replied, your voice steady, "but I refuse. My brother's legacy, as tarnished as it may be, deserves justice, and so do I."

A flicker of frustration passed across Kunikuzushi's face. 

"You're being naive," he retorted, the desperation in his voice taking a sharper edge. "An arraignment is on its way. The military court will not deliver justice. It will devour you. I’m offering you a fucking lifeline, a chance to escape the inevitable."

“I won't tarnish my brother's memory by succumbing to the same shadows that claimed him."

Kunikuzushi's eyes, once filled with a glimmer of hope, darkened with frustration. "You're condemning yourself—" he argued, "—for an idealistic notion of justice that doesn't exist. You're a fool."

"Perhaps I am a fool," you admitted, "But I am a fool who is sure of their innocence. I am not a revolutionary, I only spoke and wrote of the truth. I will not compromise my integrity for the sake of expedience."

As you spoke, the defeat in Kunikuzushi's eyes began to settle. 

"You're determined," he snarled. "So stubbornly determined to die!"

"Perhaps," you acknowledged, "Choosing you would be an escape, but it would also be a betrayal of everything I stand for. And I…"

You smiled.

“I love my spouse,” you said. “And the child we made that was taken from me all so suddenly. Hence, I do not need your love, Prince Scaramouche.”

Kunikuzushi tensed up.

Your child was baptized by the Inazuman priests. 

And Inazuman priests serve the royal family and their constituents.

History’s eyes will speculate that Prince Kunikuzushi was the reason your child had died, that he had ordered your son's immediate poison upon birth.

And Kunikuzushi knows it to be true.

But you will never know that.

You will never know the full extent of what this man had taken from you.

With those words, you turned away from Kunikuzushi, leaving him and his offer behind. You opened the door and gestured for him to leave. Neither of you knew at the time that this would be the last night you’d spend in the comfort of your own home.

Before you knew it, you were writing your final farewells.

(Y/n) (L/n) was subjected by the military court on ████████ ██, ████ and was sentenced to death at six in the morning.

The people saw no justice for their hero, and your body was buried in Inazuma City. If it were not for all you and your clan had given, there would be no freedom in Watatsumi Island and Ritou. Had your brother not saved the young girl, she would not become the matriarch of the Yuna Clan, who led the first Navy in the revolution.

And had you not died in Inazuma City, there would be no Resistance.

But that was centuries ago. 

Divine Priestess Sangonomiya Kokomi sat on her desk, examining previous preliminary investigations. She racked her brain over the testimonies of the seven members of the military court, the judge advocate, the defense counsel, and the prosecuting attorney. The prince was right when he stated the trial would not be fair for you were forced to employ a Lt. Arataki as your defense. It was a prejudged trial. Despite the obvious assertion of innocence, you were still acquitted of your allegations of treachery.

It never fails to make the current Head Priestess feel sour over a 5 centuries-year-old case.

"In their last moments, (L/n) penned Watatsumi Fair and Canticle, two sonnets kept hidden in an alcohol burner." Kokomi murmured as she read. "Although the prince barred their spouse entry, several other family members and friends came to visit (L/n) with the Orobashi coral statue provided by the townsfolk. The sculpture was created for them during the aforementioned fair."

Are you going to Watatsumi Fair?

"In their Fontainian black suit, hat, shoes, and white vest, (L/n) walked calmly outside their prison cell to the execution site in Inazuma City. They've even checked (L/n)'s pulse and felt no irregularities. (L/n) were tied elbow-to-elbow despite their visible acceptance of fate."

"It was speculated that Prince Kunikuzushi was the last person whom they talked to, looking rather somberly with disdain. He spoke in a foreign language so only (L/n) and he knew of their conversation."

 

Seri, mitsuba, yomogi, shiso.

"But Archbishop Sangonomiya Umiko understood what he had said. Je t'aime, mon grand amour… ma première trahison. Roughly translated as I love you, my grand love… my first betrayal."

"Lector (Y/n) (L/n) was commanded to face the ground when the firing squad pulled the trigger, but they still tried to face their executioners. They fell to the shoveled ground, looking at the gray morning skies. They were buried at seven."

“From then on, the name Kunikuzushi changed its meaning to Country Destroyer— for he had successfully demolished the Inazuman Empire upon sitting on the throne through violent means. When asked about this, the King responded with:”

Remember me to one who lives there.

“I didn't desire the Empire that took away my (Y/n). I didn't crave any of it. As soon as I was coronated, my heart stopped beating. And so, I enticed the neighboring King Morax to crumble the very essence of the Inazuman Empire. What purpose do these soldiers have in life, when all they've done is obediently follow ruthless commands and snuff out the ones who hold my heart?

When it’s said and done, I will be empty— a blank slate, destined to wander the desolate corridors of a nation bygone.

Only to honor these filthy human emotions called “love” that never came to be.”

He once was a true love of mine.

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist <3): @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram , @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl @kitkareen

[bobemajses]

Esther, wife of the Persian king Ahasuerus, and her cousin Mordechai saved the lives of thousands of Jews in Susa from the intrigues of the king’s chief commander, Haman, as described in the biblical book of Esther, and is enacted every Purim in all the Jewish communities of the world. Ecbatana, the former capital of the Medes, and in our times Hamadan, was the summer residence of the Persian kings, to which Esther and Mordechai are said to have retired from the court after the death of Ahasuerus. Here they were buried in a common tomb, which is still the most important Jewish pilgrimage site in Iran.

We do not know how the original tomb looked. The modern building was constructed in 1602, in the time of Shah Abbas the Great. It follows with its double inner space, burial chamber, community room, and the dome crowning the tomb, the type of the Shiite pilgrimage sites erected for the emamzâdehs, the descendants of the holy Imams. As the first picture above shows, in the early 19th century it still stood outside of the city, but by the end of the century the local bazaar flowed around it. Thousands of Jews from Iran and other countries visited this place every year, covering a grueling trip to the desert surrounding Hamadan on foot or with caravan. According to contemporary travelogues, one could approach the tomb only with a local, through a maze of doorways and inner courtyards, with the way to the sarcophagi leading through a small rose garden and an ornate gate.

[scotianostra]

On September 17th 1854 David Dunbar Buick was born at 26 Green Street, Arbroath.

You might recognise the name Buick, and yes he is the man behind the famous car manufacturer. The iconic brand Buick motors have the distinction of being the oldest American brand of what the yanks call automobiles, but Scotland has the honour of being home to its founder.

Like the founding titans of American industry before him, David Buick travelled to America with his family as an infant. After leaving school, he took work manufacturing plumbing equipment, but before long he was showing an aptitude for innovation, including an early lawn sprinkler and a cost-effective means for enamelling cast iron bathtubs.

It was in the 1890s when Buick began showing interest in the motoring world. He had a particular interest in combustion engines – so much so that he all-but-ignored the plumbing business, ending with the eventual dissolving of the company. In 1899, the Scot set up Buick Auto-Vim and Power Company in Detroit, Michigan, selling combustion engines in the hope of revolutionising agriculture.

Over the next three years, he set his sights on producing a complete vehicle, draining his resources while generating no return and the finished car, created with chief engineer Walter Marr. He was out of money and a single car to show for his work. Despite the immeasurable odds being stacked against him, he founded Buick Motor Company in early 1902 and immediately set to work developing a revolutionary ‘valve-in-head’ overhead valve engine.

Today’s overhead cam engines are all generally derived from David Dunbar Buick’s innovative designs. By 1906, Buick’s frivolity had caught up with him. He was awarded a severance package from the company he had helped build and left with only one share in the firm. Buick Motor Company’s president, William C. Durrant – former General Manager and Buick’s chief investor – purchased his share for $100,000, equal to $2.7million today.

For those left in any doubt about Buick’s significant role in the history of motoring, his life’s work would later become the foundation on which General Motors was established. The Scot unsuccessfully revisited the automotive industry in 1921 with Lorraine Motors, but was almost completely broke by 1928 and in 1929 he died from cancer, aged 74. David Dunbar Buick was ushered into the Automotive Hall of Fame in 1974 for his contribution to the fledgling industry in the late 19th Century.

At the turn of the millennium, over 35,000,000 motor cars had been built in his name, which will never be lost to history.

The statue in the pic was unveiled in Michigan, another was planned for Arbroath as far back as 2018, but as yet so far it has not been erected.

[ginandoldlace]

On the evening of 11th October 1844, Queen Victoria held a State Banquet in honour of King Louis Phillipe I visit.

The centrepiece of the elaborate banquet was actually displayed on temporary giltwood structures which were erected at the east and west ends of the hall so that George IV’s magnificent Grand Service could be displayed. The arrangement was intended to complement the gold dinner service on the dining table.

The Royal Family and court are notably wearing mourning attire which was most likely for mourning the death of Prince Albert’s father in January of that year. It was custom during the 19th Century for immediate family to be in mourning for a year, courtiers were required to follow this tradition when in attendance at court.

Queen Victoria’s Journal:

“ At 4 o'clock we again went to the King's rooms & I gave him a large cup ornamented with St. George & the Dragon, which he admired very much. We then drove out, the King, with me, in my little Phaeton, Albert, Montpensier, Fritz Strelitz & a good many of the Gentlemen riding; Mama & the 2 Princesses, as well as some of the Ladies, followed in other carriages. We drove round Virginia Water, the King after saying "il n'y a rien de plus beau que Windsor." He was enchanted with the Park, the trees, & everything & so was Montpensier. In coming home, there was a great crowd again at the Gates, who cheered heartily. When we got back to our room we found most beautiful toys, which the King is giving the Children. I have also been sent a very pretty glass vase, by Madame Adélaïde. The King is so generous, & in such a kind, delightful way. — We dined at 7, & I annex the account. It really was very splendid. The King is full of admiration for these Banquets in St. George's Hall. Sat between the King & Montpensier & Mama on the King's other side. In the course of conversation the King told me he had never thought he would return to France again.”

[gliklofhameln]

'The Chuts'. Dutch Cigar Makers’ Sabbath meal in London's East End, 19th century • Sandys Row Archive

From the 1840s onwards a small group of pioneering Dutch Jews (about 50 families), mainly from Amsterdam, settled in an area in West Spitalfields known as the Tenterground. Hugeunot silk weavers, erected homes and workshops there in the eighteenth century, later becoming occupied by this small tight-knit Dutch immigrant Jewish community, known as “the Chuts.” These little known Dutch Jewish immigrants pre-date the mass migration of Ashkenazi Jewish migrants who fled persecution in the Pale of Settlements and arrived in their thousands to the area from 1880s onwards. The Dutch immigrants who established Sandys Row Synagogue were economic migrants seeking a better life, rather than refugees fleeing persecution. They had their own practises and customs, which were different to other Ashkenazi Jewish groups and refused to join any of the existing synagogues. Most of the newly arrived Dutch Jews were skilled workers, predominately involved in the trades of cigar and cigarette making, diamond cutting and polishing, slipper and cap making. Skills were passed on from generation to generation, making this small community of about a thousand people extremely self sufficient.

[connectparanormal]

Haunted Chepstow Castle

One of the most historically significant and aesthetically stunning castles in Britain is Chepstow Castle, which is located spectacularly on a limestone cliff overlooking the River Wye in Wales. Built soon after the Norman Conquest in 1067, Chepstow Castle stands as one of the nation's first stone fortresses. Its strategic location on the England-Wales border served as a defensive bastion and established Norman authority over the unstable Welsh Marches. Chepstow Castle has witnessed social transformation, military wars, and political turmoil over the ages, and it now serves as a reminder of the creativity and aspirations of its architects. It is now thought to have ghosts as well. William FitzOsbern, a close associate of William the Conqueror, is credited with erecting the fortress when he was given the responsibility of protecting the recently conquered area. As an enduring symbol of Norman domination, Chepstow was built primarily of stone from the beginning, in contrast to many other early Norman fortresses that were created as wooden motte-and-bailey buildings. Its design has elements that were novel for their period and represents the changing architectural style of medieval castles. Later occupants enlarged and altered the Great Tower, one of the castle's earliest remaining sections, and it serves as a strong reminder of its early Norman origins.

Chepstow Castle saw numerous changes over the Middle Ages, each of which reflected the shifting interests and requirements of its residents. During the 12th and 13th centuries, the castle expanded to incorporate more defensive walls, gates, and towers, transforming it into a formidable stronghold. Interestingly, the early 13th-century wooden castle doors are some of the oldest castle doors still standing in Europe. These substantial, iron-studded doors demonstrate the castle's emphasis on protection and resiliency during a time of recurrent conflict. The plan of the castle became more intricate with each stage of building and restoration, transforming it from a fortification to a home worthy of its aristocratic owners. Owain Glyndŵr's uprising in the early 15th century was one of the historical wars in which Chepstow Castle was central. Withstanding sieges and offering safety to its defenders, the castle functioned as a stronghold of English power as tensions between the Welsh and English grew. During the 17th-century English Civil War, Royalist soldiers took control of it, subsequently handing it over to Parliamentarians. Chepstow's military importance ended with the battle, and by the late 17th century, the fortress had become partially abandoned and in ruins. But later, in the 18th and 19th centuries, when the Wye Valley gained popularity as a destination for scenic tourism, its majestic structure and lovely ruins would enthrall artists and tourists.

The Welsh government's historic environment service, Cadw, is in charge of maintaining Chepstow Castle, a beloved historical landmark. Its stunning setting and the chance to visit its well-preserved ruins (spiders and all), which offer an intriguing window into medieval life, attract tourists. The castle's expansive views of the River Wye and the surrounding area enhance its appeal and give a hint of its former strategic significance. Every stone in its construction tells a story of conquest, defense, and final decline, revealing its complex history from its Norman beginnings to its involvement in later conflicts. Apart from its historical significance, Chepstow Castle has also been the focus of local folklore and ghost stories, which have given its already dramatic presence a sense of mystery. Stories of spectral figures, weird sounds, and unexplained events have further enhanced its reputation as a place of intrigue, making it a focal point for paranormal aficionados. Regardless of whether a visitor comes for its architectural beauty, historical significance, or eerie reputation, Chepstow Castle continues to stand as a testament to the lasting influence of Britain's past. Its imposing walls, historic doors, and dominant location over the River Wye guarantee its status as one of Wales' most recognizable monuments.

[coolancientstuff]

The Sacred Band of Thebes (Ancient Greek: Ἱερός Λόχος, Hierós Lókhos) was a troop of select soldiers, consisting of 150 pairs of male lovers which formed the elite force of the Theban army in the 4th century BC, ending Spartan domination. Its predominance began with its crucial role in the Battle of Leuctra in 371 BC. It was annihilated by Philip II of Macedon in the Battle of Chaeronea in 338 BC.

According to Plutarch, the 300 hand-picked men were chosen by Gorgidas purely for ability and merit, regardless of social class. It was composed of 150 male couples, each pair consisting of an older erastês (ἐραστής, "lover") and a younger erômenos (ἐρώμενος, "beloved"). Athenaeus of Naucratis also records the Sacred Band as being composed of "lovers and their favorites, thus indicating the dignity of the god Eros in that they embrace a glorious death in preference to a dishonorable and reprehensible life", while Polyaenus describes the Sacred Band as being composed of men "devoted to each other by mutual obligations of love".

Defeat came at the Battle of Chaeronea (338 BC), the decisive contest in which Philip II of Macedon, with his son Alexander the Great, extinguished Theban hegemony. The battle is the culmination of Philip's campaign into central Greece in preparation for a war against Persia. It was fought between the Macedonians and their allies and an alliance of Greek city-states led by Athens and Thebes. Diodorus records that the numbers involved for the two armies were more or less equal, both having around 30,000 men and 2,000 cavalry.

The traditional hoplite infantry was no match for the novel long-speared Macedonian phalanx: the Theban army and its allies broke and fled, but the Sacred Band, although surrounded and overwhelmed, refused to surrender. The Thebans of the Sacred Band held their ground and Plutarch records that all 300 fell where they stood beside their last commander, Theagenes. Their defeat at the battle was a significant victory for Philip, since until then, the Sacred Band was regarded as invincible throughout all of Ancient Greece. Plutarch records that Philip II, on encountering the corpses "heaped one upon another", understanding who they were, wept and exclaimed,

Perish any man who suspects that these men either did or suffered anything unseemly.

— Plutarch, Pelopidas 18

Pausanias in his Description of Greece mentions that the Thebans had erected a gigantic statue of a lion near the village of Chaeronia surmounting the tomb of the Thebans killed in battle against Philip.

In 1818, a British architect named George Ledwell Taylor spent a summer in Greece with two friends at Livadeia. On June 3, they decided to go horseback riding to the nearby village of Chaeronea using Pausanias' Description of Greece as a guidebook. Two hours away from the village, Taylor's horse momentarily stumbled on a piece of marble jutting from the ground. Looking back at the rock, he was struck by its appearance of being sculpted and called for their party to stop. They dismounted and dug at it with their riding-whips, ascertaining that it was indeed sculpture. They enlisted the help of some nearby farmers until they finally uncovered the massive head of a stone lion which they recognized as the same lion mentioned by Pausanias. Parts of the statue had broken off and a good deal of it still remained buried. It was later pieced back together in 1902 after obtaining permission from the Greek government.

In the late 19th century, excavations in the area revealed that the monument stood at the edge of a quadrangular enclosure. The skeletons of 254 men laid out in seven rows were found buried within it. A tumulus near the monument was also identified as the site of the Macedonian polyandrion where the Macedonian dead were cremated. Excavation of the tumulus between 1902 and 1903 by the archeologist Georgios Soteriades confirmed this. At the center of the mound, about 22 ft (6.7 m) deep, was a layer of ashes, charred logs, and bones about 0.75 m (2.5 ft) thick. Recovered among these were vases and coins dated to the 4th century BC. Swords and remarkably long spearheads measuring about 15 in (38 cm) were also discovered, which Soteriades identified as the Macedonian sarissas.

[o-link]

Building Trajan's Column

Today, Trajan’s Column rises above the busy cityscape, dominated by the gargantuan Altare della Patria, built in the end of the 19th century. But when the monument was erected in the 2nd century CE, the 38-meter column was an integral part of the Forum of Trajan, a piece of art that celebrated Trajan’s splendid victory over the Dacians. The construction of the Forum began almost immediately after the end of the war. The endeavor was financed by the huge war booty seized from the vanquished Dacians. Most of the work was completed within five years. Trajan’s Column was put in place in 113 CE, with the special commemorative coin depicting the Column issued for the occasion.

[xavierbautistagarcia]

The Saint and his fortress

The Fortezza Guaita was the oldest and most emblematic tower of San Marino. It was built in the 11th century on Monte Titano. The tower was part of the defensive system of San Marino, one of the oldest republics in the world, and was essential for the protection of its population.

Its first builders were the inhabitants of San Marino themselves, who erected it to defend themselves against medieval invasions and looting. Over the centuries, the fortress was enlarged and reinforced to adapt to new techniques of warfare.

During the Middle Ages, the Fortezza Guaita played a key role in the defence of the Republic, especially against neighbouring cities, such as Rímini, which often tried to expand their territory. The tower also served as a prison, thanks to its sturdy and impregnable structure.

At the end of the 15th century, the lord of Cesena, Cesare Borgia, tried to conquer San Marino, but failed to bring down its defences. And this was only one of the times the fortress was attacked in its history.

San Marino drafted its constitutional rules around 1600 and in 1631 the Papacy recognised its independence, which was endorsed by Napoleonic France in 1797 and by other European countries at the Congress of Vienna in 1815.

Over time, the Fortezza Guaita was modernised in response to new military developments, but retained its medieval character. It remained in use until the 17th century, when the political and military situation in Europe meant that San Marino no longer needed its defences as much.

During the 19th century, the fortress was restored to preserve its historical and architectural value. This restoration allowed it to maintain its imposing presence, making it a national symbol of freedom and independence.

Today, the Fortezza Guaita is one of San Marino's main tourist attractions and, along with other towers and historic buildings of the republic, was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2008. Its history reflects the resilient spirit of San Marino, which it has maintained since its foundation more than 1700 years ago, when the saint after whom the country is named established there.

[ltwilliammowett]

The Legend of the Princess Augusta or the Palatine Ship

The legend goes back to the historic shipwreck of the Princess Augusta at Block Island in 1738. The ship is known from several contemporary accounts and from statements made by the surviving crew after the sinking, which were discovered in 1925 and reprinted in 1939. The British merchant ship Augusta sailed from Rotterdam in August 1738 under Captain George Long and a crew of fourteen, carrying 240 immigrants to the English colonies in America. The passengers were German Palatines who came from the Palatinate, which is why the ship was referred to as the "Palatine Ship" in contemporary documents, which explains the later confusion about the name. The ship was on its way to Philadelphia, from where the passengers were possibly travelling to a German-owned settlement on the James River in Virginia.

The Burning Ship, by Albert Bierstadt 1869

The Princess Augusta's voyage was ill-fated: The water supply was contaminated, causing a "fever and flux disease" that killed 200 passengers and half the crew, including Captain Long. First Officer Andrew Brook took command when severe storms forced the ship off course to the north, where the survivors were exposed to extreme weather conditions and dwindling supplies for three months. According to the crew, Brook forced the passengers to pay for the remaining rations. Apparently he tried different routes to Rhode Island and Philadelphia, but the storms drove the damaged and leaking Augusta to Block Island. She ran aground in a snowstorm at Sandy Point at the northernmost end of the island at 2 p.m. on 27 December 1738.

According to reports, Brook rowed to shore with the entire crew and abandoned the passengers on board. The Block Islanders apparently did what they could to help. They convinced Brook to let the passengers disembark the next day, and later retrieved their belongings when he left them on board. They also buried about 20 people who died after the shipwreck; the Block Island Historical Society erected a memorial plaque at the site of the "Palatine Graves" in 1947.

The authorities took statements from the crew, but what happened afterwards is unclear. Apparently the crew was not charged for their actions, and they and most of the surviving passengers made it to the mainland, from where little is known about them. Two survivors remained on Block Island and settled there. Most reports indicate that the ship was deemed unsalvageable and was forced out to sea to sink. It may have been set on fire to sink it. According to some reports, a woman, sometimes referred to as Mary Van Der Line, was driven mad by her suffering; she was forgotten and sank with the ship, according to these reports. However, no remains of the wreck have ever been found, and there are indications that the Augusta may have been repaired and sent on to Philadelphia.

There is a rich oral tradition of this event, and numerous sightings were reported in the late 18th and 19th centuries. The legend was immortalised by the poet John Greenleaf Whittier in "The Palatine", which faithfully reproduces the traditional story in verse. Which gave the Legend it's name. On Saturdays between Christmas and New Year's Eve, locals still sporadically report seeing a burning ship pass by. Folklorist Michael Bell, investigating the legend, found that almost a year after the incident, two versions of the night's events were circulated.

The Palatine Graves

The Block Islanders insisted that their citizens had made a valiant attempt to rescue the crew, while the New England mainlanders suspected the islanders of having lured the ship to them in order to seize their cargo. Both legends agreed that a female passenger had refused to abandon ship when it sank, and those who claim to have witnessed her reappearance say that her screams were heard from the ship.

Today, a plaque at the Mohegan Bluffs where the ship is said to have run aground reads: Palatine Graves - 1738. Some claim that those who died that night are buried underground. However, Charlotte Taylor of the Rhode Island Historical Preservation and Heritage Commission has stated that no physical evidence has ever been found to support either this claim or the legend itself.

[plovdifyme]

There is much controversy in Plovdiv at the moment about whether this monument should be removed.

From the linked article:

"The communist-era landmark - 'Alyosha' - known formally as the Monument to the Soviet Army in Plovdiv, tops one of several prominent hills that rise above the center of the city. The stone soldier was erected in 1957 above a plate engraved with the message, "Glory to the invincible Soviet Army of liberation." Alyosha was modeled on a Russian Red Army soldier named Aleksey Skurlatov who served in Bulgaria during World War II and died in 2013.

In early January, Plovdiv councillors from the PP-DP coalition party proposed removing the monument by the end of 2024, describing it as "not part of the cultural tradition and collective memory of Plovdiv, especially if we compare it with the monuments of notable Bulgarian national heroes who participated in national liberation struggles in the 19th and 20th centuries." The populist There is Such a People party has since called for a public referendum on the matter."

[scotianostra]

On August 29th 1930 36 people, the entire population of St Kilda were evacuated from the island.

On 10 May 1930 the people of St Kilda sent a collective letter to William Adamson, the Secretary of State for Scotland, requesting that they should be evacuated from their home. By the end of August that year the evacuation was completed and the process of resettlement on the Scottish mainland had begun. The abandonment of St Kilda is sometimes described as one of the few occasions when the ending of a community has taken place in a voluntary fashion.

Generations had struggled to scrape a living from the unforgiving land far out in the Atlantic, but the 20th century had finally caught up with the harsh reality of existence there. It was a brutal process, as they carried their possessions and their furniture on their backs to the pier, the men had the unenviable task of drowning their working dogs in the sea, as they were not allowed to take them with them to the mainland, it was either that or leave them to starve, a very harsh ending to their life on the archipelago. Their cats were left to fend for themselves, but from what I can gather were eventually all killed off by the military over the next few years.

St Kilda is not unique, other Scottish Islands were abandoned beforehand, most notably, Handa, off Sutherland which met its doom in the 1840s. Mingulay, in the Outer Hebrides that was deserted by 1912. The Islands of St Kilda though had become a curiosity, a sort of freak show for tourists to observe.

St Kilda is actually the name given to the group of islands, though most people when quoting St Kilda, really mean the largest island where the actual village was, that is actually called Hirta, I myself when posting here have occasionally just title the photos St Kilda, rather than correcting myself, lazy, a wee bit I just find it easier than explaining the Island group each post.

Hirta was occupied by humans for over two thousands of years by various residents and there were many traditions handed down the generations, traditions influenced by monks, viking sailors, medieval rulers and landowners.

What remains there now are the ruins of both their original houses, mainly blackhouse type houses, alongside slightly newer houses which had been built for them in the later years. The layout of the 19th-century village remains to this day, and over 1,400 stone-built Cleit for storing food and fuel are scattered all over the islands, and even on the sea stacs.

In 1726 a St Kildan visited Harris, caught smallpox there, and died from it. His clothes were returned to St Kilda in 1727, and brought the disease with them. Most of the islanders died, only 1 adult and 18 children survived the outbreak. However, 3 men and 8 boys escaped the disease as they had been left on Stac an Armin to collect gannets. The disease spread while they were there and nobody could go to fetch them. They were eventually rescued 9 months later. The owner of St Kilda had to send people from Harris to repopulate St Kilda.

As if the harsh conditions weren’t enough the Islanders had to cope with the effects of the First World War, the Royal Navy erected a signal station on Hirta, and daily communications with the mainland were established for the first time in St Kilda’s history. In a belated response, a German submarine arrived in Village Bay on the morning of 15 May 1918 and, after issuing a warning, started shelling the island.

Seventy-two shells were fired, and the wireless station was destroyed. The manse, church & jetty storehouse were damaged, but no loss of life occurred. As a result of this attack, a 4-inch Mark III QF gun was erected on a promontory overlooking Village Bay, but it never saw military use.

[photo-snap-stories]

PL:

Zamek królewski w Sandomierzu

W XIV wieku z fundacji króla Kazimierza Wielkiego na miejscu drewnianego grodu wzniesiono murowaną gotycką budowlę z murem zamkowym oraz wieżą obronną, zbudowaną na ośmiobocznym planie. Kronikarz Janko z Czarnkowa wymienia sandomierski zamek wśród 32 innych wystawionych z polecenia króla w ramach akcji wzmocnienia obronności kraju i poszczególnych miast. Ok. 1480r. wzniesiona została baszta południowa tzw. „kurza noga”, obecnie najstarsza zachowana część zamku.

W XVI wieku z inicjatywy króla Zygmunta I Starego rozpoczęto przebudowę gotyckiego zamku w renesansową rezydencję. Przebudowę upamiętniono tablicą erekcyjną z okolicznościowym napisem: „Zygmunt z łaski Bożej król Polski, wielki książę litewski, ruski, pruski, pan i dziedzic roku pańskiego 1520”.

Za panowania następnego króla Zygmunta II Augusta kontynuowano prace przy rozbudowie zamku. Obejmowały one budowę skrzydła zachodniego zakończonego narożną wieżą oraz połączenie muru północnego z wieżą bramną.

Za panowania króla Jana Kazimierza w 1656 r., w czasie „potopu” zamek został wysadzony w powietrze przez wycofujące się wojska szwedzkie. Zniszczeniu uległy skrzydła wschodnie i południowe. Od tego czasu stał się budynkiem użyteczności publicznej: urzędem, sądem i więzieniem. W 1768r. w czasie konfederacji barskiej zamek został ponownie zniszczony, tym razem przez kwaterujące w nim wojska rosyjskie.

Po III rozbiorze Polski zaborca austriacki przeznaczył zamek na sąd i więzienie. W 1844r. przebudowano pozostałości królewskiego zamku nadając mu surowe klasycystyczne formy architektoniczne. W końcu XIX stulecia półokrągły dziedziniec więzienny obudowano nowym skrzydłem tzw. „rogalem”, a w mur północny wstawiono budynek dla administracji więziennej. Tak ukształtowany zamek pełnił funkcje więzienne do 1959r.

W późniejszych latach przeprowadzono gruntowne prace remontowo-konserwatorskie, rozebrano budynek administracji i okalający dziedziniec, a w 1986r. przeznaczono zamek na siedzibę Muzeum Okręgowego w Sandomierzu.

EN:

The Royal Castle in Sandomierz, Poland

In the 14th century, founded by King Casimir the Great, a brick Gothic building with a castle wall and a defensive tower, built on an octagonal plan, was erected on the site of the wooden stronghold. The chronicler Janko from Czarnków mentions the Sandomierz castle among 32 others erected by order of the king as part of a campaign to strengthen the defense of the country and individual cities. Around 1480 the southern tower, the so-called "chicken leg", was erected, now the oldest surviving part of the castle.

In the 16th century, on the initiative of King Sigismund I the Old, the reconstruction of the Gothic castle into a Renaissance residence began. The reconstruction was commemorated with an foundation plaque with the occasional inscription: "Sigismund, by the grace of God, King of Poland, Grand Duke of Lithuania, Ruthenia, Prussia, master and heir of the year of our Lord 1520."

During the reign of the next king, Sigismund II Augustus, work on the expansion of the castle continued. They included the construction of the western wing ending with a corner tower and the connection of the northern wall with the gate tower.

During the reign of King John Casimir in 1656, during the "deluge", the castle was blown up by retreating Swedish troops. The eastern and southern wings were destroyed. Since then, the castle has become a public building: an office, a court and a prison. In 1768 during the Bar Confederation, the castle was destroyed again, this time by the Russian troops quartered there.

After the Third Partition of Poland, the Austrian partitioner used the castle as a court and a prison. In 1844 the remains of the royal castle were rebuilt, giving it strict classicist architectural forms.

At the end of the 19th century, the semicircular prison yard was enclosed with a new wing, the so-called "croissant", and a building for the prison administration was built into the northern wall. The castle shaped in this way served as a prison until 1959.

In later years, thorough renovation and conservation works were carried out, the administration building and the surrounding courtyard were demolished, and in 1986 the castle was designated as the seat of the District Museum in Sandomierz.