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blackswaneuroparedux · 2 years ago

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imperium cupientibus nihil medium inter summa aut praecipitia

- Tacitus

Among those seeking power there is no middle ground except either triumph or complete failure.

Farewell Nicola Sturgeon, the Jimmy Krankie of Scottish politics.

Nicola Sturgeon will go down as one of the most formidable election winners in Scottish history. Her legacy is rooted in success at the ballot box and can be seen in the many defeats inflicted on her opponents. As she said during her resignation press conference, she fought eight elections as First Minister and won them all. Nobody has done this before.

But winning elections is always a means to an end. And the question has to be asked: what did Sturgeon do with the power at her disposal? The main goal of Sturgeon’s time in power had been the secession of Scotland from the rest of the United Kingdom, and in this she has decidedly failed. Taking office as head of the SNP in 2014 after a decisive independence referendum loss, Sturgeon failed to move the ball forward no matter what she tried. Although the party was keen to dub local, regional, and national elections as “de facto referendums,” no second vote was ever called. A recent bid to force the issue ended with defeat in the United Kingdom’s Supreme Court, which found that a new referendum run only under Scotland’s devolved powers would be unconstitutional.

Sturgeon was a supreme communicator, and her public relations team - run out of the first minister’s official residence, Bute House - effectively outmuscled all Scottish opposition. SNP spinners outnumbered the journalists sent by the national broadcaster, the BBC, to cover Scottish politics; and Sturgeon cannily used press conferences during times of crisis, including the COVID-19 pandemic, to undermine the U.K. government’s claims of national unanimity. She would either preempt British announcements, sometimes only an hour or so earlier, or publicly disagree with them - all in an always successful bid to capture headlines. Sturgeon’s opponents grumbled at these efforts - they called them stunts. But they always worked, and she never lost an election as SNP leader.

But Sturgeon’s tenure exposed many of the shortcomings of nationalist and populist politicians after they’ve taken power. They campaign largely on the basis of a single slogan and policy. And when they return again and again to office - especially if they cannot enact their chosen policy or slogan - they begin to struggle and suffer. Sturgeon wished dearly to be Scotland’s first leader after the country seceded from the United Kingdom. Scotland would much rather she focused on the immediate challenges of dealing with the growing NHS crisis, the education gap, and the cost of living crisis. In all this she failed.

Sturgeon tried to style herself as a social democrat, obviously a nationalist and a feminist – but not the type to lecture you about the heteronormative capitalist patriarchy. Her audience was down-to-earth folk who would have laughed if she had started talking about women having penises. Yet she ended up promoting a policy of allowing trans people to change their legal sex by self-declaration alone – a policy that, when rolled out in the prison’s service, led to a double rapist being placed in a women’s prison.

How could this happen? You almost begin to believe in Elon Musk’s ‘woke mind virus’. How could a lifelong feminist promote a policy that was not only based on the absurdity of ‘women’ having male genitals, but that also endangered the safety of female prisoners – many of them only inside for trivial offences like non-payment of fines. Only she knows and now she’s walked off the anvil of politics because she wants to spend more time with her family - one of the least believable lines in British politics. Yet the truth is that the walls were closing in on Nicola Sturgeon: she leapt before she was pushed.

Much will be made of her bizarre gender ideology, which led Scottish institutions to the conclusion that it was perfectly acceptable to send a male rapist to a women’s jail, on the grounds that his decision to declare himself a woman after he had committed his offences must be unquestioningly respected. Sturgeon later, after a great deal of public outrage, opposed the move, but the scandal underlined the foolish and naive thinking behind her gender recognition bill. Yes, it turned out, sex offenders really will take advantage of a system which allows them to change their gender at whim, just as many women’s groups had warned.

Some of Nicola Sturgeon’s fans on social media have claimed that she didn’t know about what was happening in Scotland’s prisons. But she could scarcely have failed to notice that her favourite government-funded charity, the Scottish Trans Alliance, had been advising the Scottish Prison Service on self-ID since 2014. If she didn’t know, it would be astonishing negligence, and Nicola Sturgeon is famous for being meticulously well-briefed. She is no fly-by-night blusterer like Boris Johnson. No, the first minister accepted self-ID in prisons because of her adherence to the Stonewall dogma that ‘transwomen are women’. No buts, no qualifications. As her Green Party coalition partners put it, denying that transwomen are women is the ‘definition of transphobia’. So when the Scottish Prison Service was instructed to follow this dogma it started to house offenders according to the ‘social identity’ they presented.

There were of course many other reasons for Nicola Sturgeon’s departure from office, not least her failure to shift the dial on Scottish independence, but self-ID was a very large part of it. The popular press in Scotland had started running increasingly lurid tales of sex offenders being placed in the women’s estate – not just double rapist Bryson. A 6ft 5in male-bodied paedophile, Katie Dolatowski, had also been housed in Cornton Vale women’s prison. Another self-declared transwoman, Sophie Eastwood (formerly Daniel), who strangled his cell mate with his shoelaces, is currently being held at HMP Cornton Vale, too. Eastwood currently self-identifies as a baby and is given nappies and baby food by prison officers.

The Scottish Prison Service had been piloting self-ID for years prior to Sturgeon’s plan to extend it Scotland-wide. Most of the Scottish media have, like the BBC, been observing informal self-censorship on the trans issue. There was little comment on these cases, which were well known to Scottish feminists. It was and still is seen as rather indecent in the middle-class media to mention prisons and the risks of allowing men to become legally female just by putting on a dress and calling themselves a woman. Last September, Nicola Sturgeon insisted such concerns were ‘not valid’.

But Sturgeon’s failures don’t end there. Her zero-Covid policy, which briefly made her so popular in the summer of 2020 as infection rates in Scotland fell below those in England, was undermined by longer term data: Scotland did not handle the pandemic much better than England. Moreover, the implosion of China’s own zero-Covid policy after the masses began to rebel against being regularly locked in their homes showed what a blind alley it was. Then there is the shame of Scotland’s drug deaths, which numbered 1,300 in 2020 alone, three and a half times the rate of England and more than three times the rate of the second-worse European country, Sweden. It is all the worse because of Sturgeon’s boasting about leading a “progressive” drugs policy - even down to trying to ban the use of use of such words as “addict” on the grounds that they are stigmatising.

Education, in particular the narrowing of the attainment gap between children of different socio-economic backgrounds, was supposed to be one of Sturgeon’s great legacies. She even set up a new system of measuring education attainment in order to demonstrate progress in this area – but the data failed miserably to show much. Scotland’s NHS, too, failed on her watch – in spite of Scotland receiving particularly high funds thanks to the Barnett Formula.

But what finally did for Sturgeon was surely the realisation that her dream of Scottish independence was going nowhere. Briefly, at the end of last year, at the height of the Conservative government’s trouble, it seemed as if the polls might finally have shifted in favour of Scottish independence. Come the new year, and normality was restored: a poll this week showed Scots to be against independence by a margin of 56 percent to 44 percent - almost exactly the same result as the 2014 referendum, the SNP’s failure to win which brought Sturgeon to power in the first place.

All that politicking, all that trying to drive a wedge between Holyrood and Westminster, all the games with the Supreme Court over her second referendum, all the efforts to use Brexit to try to drive the case for a breakaway Scotland: all came to nothing. She was back where she began, leading an SNP which is deeply-frustrated with the voting public.

Critics allege that she had very few plans to govern Scotland as a devolved leader, had little interest in doing so, and felt that she was an international figure deserving of a global platform accorded to a head of state or government. Now she may well get her chance as she seeks a bigger stage as part of some UN body as an ambassador. She has every chance of continuing to fail upwards.

Farewell Wee Nippy!

#tacitus #latin #classical #quote #politics #success #failure #power #white sturgeon #nicola sturgeon #scotland #holyrood #scottish indepedendence #resignation

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ordinum · 10 months ago

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VIth legion engineer unit trust party.

architectus ordinum: aquilinus lux silvius.

a gun wielder with additional magitek weapons as support. favours the magitek bit and a replica-sized armoured weapon. from his position of engineer officer, he has come to possess and occasionally use a gunblade as well.

legionarius: tacitus oen urbicus.

a gladiator-style tank with a basic shortsword and lantern shield. he heads the party and takes damage first, but as commander, aquilinus is the true leader.

medicus: octavia jen corvinus.

utilises scientific garlean medicine to cure allies. slower than aetheric healing, but can be highly effective.

architectus: renatus jen amata.

also a gun wielder, he and aquilinus often switch roles - one focusing on magitek piloting with the other as a ranged firearm user. because the guns require reloading, covering for each other proves a helpful strategy in overcoming the inability to use automatic aetheric bullets.

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quixotickeeper · 1 year ago

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The Progeny of the House of Mischief (ocs, picrew).

Picrews used: pepperjackets: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1322863 chicken.nuggts: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1427462 hunbloom: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/626197

Going forward, the first and middle names, as well as the ordinal numerals, of the characters will be listed. Their shared surname is 'Mischief'.

KILGORE FITZGERALD II [he/him] "His House in Ruination" / "The Laurel Wreath" The eldest sibling of his generation, as well as the oldest brother. Of respectable military standing, even if granted due to his family's status. Is probably a nice guy under the mask. Probably in his 40s, for what that's worth. Prickish. Not much is known of his personal life or inner machinations.

AURELIUS ALOYSIUS V [he/him]

"His Mind Transcends Us" / "The Left Hand" Probably the finest mind the Family has produced. Lord knows he hides it well. Of a hedonistic and flighty disposition. A most reliable fellow in times of crisis. Known for his dalliance with his fellows among noble poets. In his late 30s, most likely. A 31th century rake.

TACITUS KILROY VI [he/him]

"His Strength Rivalled by Nature" / "The Inexorable Man" A kind-hearted fellow of prodigious strength and cosmic determination. Quiet and withdrawn, yet charitable. Product of curious experimentation during pregnancy. Around the same age as Aurelius, but a bit younger. Could carry the weight of the world, if sufficiently motivated. Considers himself a cinephile.

FLORENTIA SISYPHUS X [she/her]

"Her Estate Tainted and Unearned" / "The Heiress of Mischief" The oldest daughter and the heiress apparent of the Family. Often away in distant continents¹ attending to personal business, as it is called. Socially maladjusted, though good at acting like she isn't. Coddled beyond belief for her value to the bloodline. Doesn't have an opinion on much of anything. Likes her siblings well enough, especially her younger ones. Mid 30s, most likely. Prefers to be left alone.

FELIX MADSEN VII [he/him]

"His Knowledge Transient and Absurd" / "The Scholar" Twisted by his pursuit of knowledge that is not desirable to be known. Discovered the answer of the so-called 'MCV² spiral question', a metaphysical anomaly studied for centuries by modern academia. No one would understand if he ever thought to publish his findings. Prone to lapses into lucidity, in which he will be polite if a bit absent-minded. Has a love for ufology and conspiracies. Early 30s.

TITUS PERICLES VI [he/him]

"His Heart Rejects Us" / "The Brother-Keeper" The goodest of good fellows. Not terribly smart. Partial to Old-World³ mysticism. Forsook the Family for his brother's sake, and he didn't even need to be asked. Unintentionally funny. Has a brain-to-brain connection with Andronicus, though this manifests in sapping away Andronicus' IQ to temporarily add to his own. Unwaveringly optimistic. Probably late 20s to early 30s, though not as 30ish as Felix. Brief stint as a lawyer. Professional mobster impersonator.

ADDYSON ISADORA III [any, but prefers she/her or they/them]

"Their Mind Fractal Yet Unified" / "The Mind of Madness" The heiress presumptive of the Family, though this will never amount to anything. The kindest one of all, even if it manifests in odd puppet-based ways. Loves good fashion and magic tricks. Styles herself as a magician supreme. Has produced a series of puppets based upon her family members. Is not respected by the older members of her family, though looked on as a source of entertainment by her juniors. Late 20s.

ANDRONICUS VALERIUS II [he/him]

"His Brother's Keeper" / "The Heir of the World" A gentleman of supreme anxiety and intellect. A quiet and unnoticed scion, even at his birth. Fled into exile with Titus not long ago. Supported by his siblings in his gestalt of identity. Touched by cosmic chance. Professional lawyer impersonator. Brief stint as a mobster. Tries to help as much as he can, regardless of circumstance. Has plans of godhood. Mid 20s but feels much older. The youngest brother of the Family.

SIOBHAN LUCILLE IV [she/her]

"Her Creed Dappled with Sorrow" / "The Prime Philosophist" The Family's resident philosopher, even if she isn't very good at coming up with her own ideas. Or having an actually coherent philosophy at all. A source of vexation to the members of her Family who remember she exists. Bought one of those scam degrees online and thinks it makes her a true 'philosophist'. The only sister born out of the Iridescence⁴. Dalliances with local non-nobles are overlooked due to her insignificance to the Family's grand enmachinations. Probably had the best relationship with Andronicus not counting Titus. I'd say about early 20s, maybe very late teens.

GANYMEDE HESTIA VIII [he/she]

"His Pride Laid to Waste" / "The Speaker to Crocodiles" A mild-mannered and fun-loving child. Considers the conservation of 'special' animals to be of the utmost importance. Volunteer of the month 16 months running at the local animal sanctuary in Zürich. To be quiet honest, barely anyone in the Family remembers she even exists. Sometimes mistaken for a burgularish urchin when returning home. I'd say mid teens — 15, say.

HUXLEY JAZMINE XII [they/them]

"Their Goal Obfuscated by Spite" / "The Young Doctor" A young academic type. Lives in the lower levels of the House, close to the foundations. Lives where many haven't walked in years. Dreams of achieving the perfect biological gestalt being. I'd say early to mid teens.

ATHANASIA BARNUM I [she/her]

"Her Defiance Enrages Us" / "The Witch" The youngest child of the Family. Touched by something sinister, buried deep in the ruins of the Old-World. A complete unknown to the Family. Still has regular appointments with the house doctor. 13 years old.

¹Mainly in Asia, but occasionally in the Americas ²A reference to The Library of Babel by Borges, page 2 I believe ³Anything predating the year 2401 AD ⁴Referring to the hair colour represented here as blue, denoting afab children as possible heiresses

#my ocs #picrew #The Mischief Family

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pocketbelt · 1 year ago

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A Most Dangerous Book: Tacitus’ Germania From The Roman Empire To The Third Reich

I suppose a historical account book is a bit at odds with the usual fare, isn’t it

Still, it’s a really good read, one that cites and proves its history very effectively while telling in a compelling style; paths and people are linked and retread, the dense layers of the many people obsessed with using (and abusing) an ancient old man’s metaphorical sniping at his society and fellows to wholesale invent and craft mythologies to, to be perhaps cruelly reductive, seem cool and special ‘like everyone else’…and how that goes off some fucking rails.

It’s fascinating from many angles; in how texts from antiquities survived to modern times, in the many different ways texts are interpreted and misinterpreted, deliberately and sometimes not, and just how fucking long obsessions can settle into the cultures and mindspaces and persist even after their memberships have been changed entirely by time, and even long after they are gone.

And how, in some ways, there is truly nothing new under the sun.

I highly recommend, for many reasons; knowledge of history is always good, it’s densely reinforced by evidence, citations and research, it’s interesting seeing the perceptions of societies change and the emergence and evolution of nation-states even here, how easy it is for some to invent history wholesale and push myth. And hell, like a lot of these, knowledge of how texts and ancient history was preserved and transmitted forward, and how people interacted with it and why, these things can be damn useful for creative works or similar, too.

Some more of these may pop up, initially things often cited (and actually accessible) by that professor’s blog I’ve been reading, but hell, I’m of a mind to start poking around for more.

#pocket-media-tag

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fayemuseum · 3 months ago

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03.24.23/ First-year Greek and Roman history

“This settlement was a great success and protected the interest of our allies, but it gave Germanicus little joy because of the arrogance of Piso, who had been ordered to lead some of the legions to Armenia under his own or his son’s command. Piso had neglected to do either. When the two finally met at Cyrrhus. In the winter quarters of the tenth legion, they were both careful to control their appearance. Piso concealed his fears, and Germanicus avoided any appearance. Piso conceals his fears, and Germanicus avoids any appearance of a menace. He was indeed, as I have said, a kind-hearted man. His friends knew only too well, however, how to inflame this quarrel, and they began to exaggerate what was true and add lies in addition, alleging various charges against Piso, Plancia, and their sons."

The Julio-Claudians (Tacitus: The Trial of Piso 57.1-57.10)

Annals by Tacitus was written in the second century AD and recounts The Trial of Piso from the perspective of Germanicus, the nephew of Tiberius. In the chosen exert, Rome is dealing with the unstable country of Armenia, where Germanicus appoints a new king in hopes of fixing the country’s ruinous state. During this, Germanicus shows discontent with Piso, as he fails to follow orders and lead his legion into Armenia. Throughout Tacitus’ writing there is an obvious dissemblance between Piso and Germanicus, many times throughout the chosen exert and throughout the Annals, Tacitus uses a stark difference in tone when writing about Piso and Germanicus. When writing about Germanicus, Tacitus uses bold and positive language and constantly praises him, often writing in a more epic style, rather than an academic historical recount. While referring to Piso, Tacitus does not shy away from insulting and using villainous and tyrannic language. Lastly, Tacitus is highly recognized for his anti-Tiberius and tyrannic writing, further showing his socio-political biases. Modern-day historians may use the work of Tacitus as an example of the importance of proving authenticity in ancient writing. Taking into account any hints of socio-political biases, the use of emotion and tone, and the amount of information writers choose to withhold or heighten can testify to a work’s authenticity. Additionally, Historians can then use biased writing, not as accurate tellings of historical events or people, but rather look into why an ancient writer may think the way they do, and what socio-political events took place that may have affected historical recounts.

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linneatanner · 9 months ago

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S.P. Somtow IMPERATRIX #HistoricalFiction #AncientRome #LGBTQ+ #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub @somtow @cathiedunn

FEATURED AUTHOR: S. P. SOMTOW I’m delighted to welcome S.P. Somtow as the featured author in The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour held January 31st - February 2nd, 2024. S.P. Somtow is the author of the Historical Fiction / Ancient World / LGBTQ+ Interest, "IMPERATRIX: The Empress who was once a Slave (Nero and Sporus Series, Book 2), released by Diplodocus Press on 24th December 2023 (276 pages). Below are highlights of IMPERATRIX, S.P. Somtow's author bio, and a snippet from his book. Tour Schedule Page: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2024/01/blog-tour-imperatrix-by-sp-somtow.html HIGHLIGHTS: IMPERATRIX IMPERATRIX: The Empress who was once a Slave (Nero and Sporus Series, Book 2) By S.P. Somtow Blurb: Captured by pirates and sold to a Roman aristocrat as a sex slave, Sporus attracted the attention of no less a personage than the Emperor Nero, ruler of the known world. Would-be poet, patron of the arts, aesthete, and brutal autocrat, the Divine Nero saw in the boy a startling resemblance to the Empress Poppaea - and made him an empress as well. Suetonius, Tacitus, and other Roman historians have given tantalizing glimpses into the incredible life story of the boy who became twice an empress to two emperors, and was condemned to die in the arena by a third. In this meticulously researched trilogy World Fantasy, award-winning author S.P. Somtow lays bare the darkest secrets of Imperial Rome - its triumphs and its nadirs, its beauty, and its cruelty. Through this chaos, a contorted mirror of our contemporary world, this figure of Sporus moves, all too knowing yet all too innocent, providing a worm's eye view of one of the wildest periods in ancient history. Imperatrix, the second volume of the tale, takes us into the heart of the Imperial palace with all its intrigue, depravity, and splendor. Buy Links: This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited. Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/mV2EaJ AUTHOR BIO: S. P. SOMTOW Once referred to by the International Herald Tribune as 'the most well-known expatriate Thai in the world,' Somtow Sucharitkul is no longer an expatriate, since he has returned to Thailand after five decades of wandering the world. He is best known as an award-winning novelist and a composer of operas. Born in Bangkok, Somtow grew up in Europe and was educated at Eton and Cambridge. His first career was in music, and in the 1970s, upon his first return to Asia, he acquired a reputation as a revolutionary composer, the first to combine Thai and Western instruments in radical new sonorities. Conditions in the arts in the region at the time proved so traumatic for the young composer that he suffered a major burnout, emigrated to the United States, and reinvented himself as a novelist. His earliest novels were in the science fiction field, and he soon won the John W. Campbell for Best New Writer as well as being nominated for and winning numerous other awards in the field. But science fiction was not able to contain him and he began to cross into other genres. In his 1984 novel Vampire Junction, he injected a new literary inventiveness into the horror genre, in the words of Robert Bloch, author of Psycho, 'skillfully combining the styles of Stephen King, William Burroughs, and the author of the Revelation to John.' Vampire Junction was voted one of the forty all-time greatest horror books by the Horror Writers' Association. In the 1990s Somtow became increasingly identified as a uniquely Asian writer with novels such as the semi-autobiographical Jasmine Nights and a series of stories noted for a peculiarly Asian brand of magic realism, such as Dragon's Fin Soup, which is currently being made into a film directed by Takashi Miike. He recently won the World Fantasy Award, the highest accolade given in the world of fantastic literature, for his novella The Bird Catcher. Returning to Thailand in 2001, he became artistic director of Opera Siam and has had more than a dozen operas produced around the world including The Snow Dragon and The Silent Prince, premiered in the United States, Helena Citronova, an opera set during the Holocaust, and the ten-part DasJati: Ten Lives of the Buddha. In the last few years he has made a return to writing novels with the Nero and Sporus trilogy and the young adult series, Club X. In 2021, the film he produced and wrote, The Maestro: Symphony of Terror, received over forty awards at international festivals, and in 2023, the Thai government officially elevated him to the status of National Artist. Read S.P. Somtow’s interview on Literary Titan about Imperatrix at https://literarytitan.com/2024/01/21/the-core-of-innocence/. Author Links: Website: www.somtow.com Twitter: www.twitter.com/somtow Facebook: www.facebook.com/somtow Instagram: www.instagram.com/somtow Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/s-p-somtow Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B000APBJXC Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/81037.S_P_Somtow SNIPPET: IMPERATRIX I had got up from my dining couch and was circulating among other triclinia laid out in the garden, and I heard those exact sentiments from an old drunk man; I recognized him as Pontius Pilatus, and I recognized the stories, too — the orgiastic love-feast cults, the baby-eating and what not — from the last banquet I’d seen the old general at. But the way he told the stories was more … I would say, more mechanical, like a schoolboy reciting Homer, trying to get through the lines while avoiding the tutor’s quirt. “Ah,” he said, greeting me, “Poppaea. Or are you Poppaea’s evil twin? You’ve lost your baby belly.” “Still telling the same tall tales, General,” I said. “But the telling isn’t the same; this time, your tales are literally lighting up the banquet.” “It’s a good thing they’re using the display crosses,” said Pilatus, “so we can get the light without the smell.” A woman sitting next to him said, “And without the guilt, Pontius.” “I daresay if they were marinated in garlic and garum instead of being coated with pitch, the smell would be quite pleasant,” another guest piped up. “The guilt,” the woman said again, grimly lifting a honeyed mouse by the tail and popping it her mouth, then spitting out the tiny bones. “My wife, the Lady Procula,” said Pilatus. “She used to have nightmares about it. Now, I have the nightmares.” “Because, my dear,” said the Lady Procula, “you know they don’t actually have baby-eating orgies.” “Blood rites, dear. They do have blood rites.” “Metaphorical, husband! They are a completely harmless cult. The Jews don’t worship the Emperor either, and they’re not lighting up his dinner parties.” “They will be soon,” said another voice. Tigellinus, also making the rounds. “I hear they are revolting again.” Instagram Handle: @thecoffeepotbookclub Read the full article

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libidomechanica · 11 months ago

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Heart in days long enough; and, beating with my heart in days

A curtal sonnet sequence

Heart in days long enough; and, beating with my heart in days far-off, on that I were bryȝt bronde. Love through which our modern morals right, and her tongue in its thorn. Or Branch: Each Porch, each clasp’d by every friends, who touch, and sette hym stryþe to go vpon þe gres and frostie furrowes: drerily shooting his Eyes, which some call Stellaes eyes that holds a stately like Tom Waits. For grog, and could not leave to ask the greene cold out as well, because I wonde?

To make that swallows, in notes of Heaven. He popt him closer to have though in my honde schuld seye heþen. Will be quitt with heart did aryse, and be seene to mete þat may move, come live with me? How falls on the grass a long together in our own eyes, and in every vulgar paper to remene. And she is her bourdyng þay bayþen þy bone þat Salamon with a piece of Virgil, Tacitus, Livy, or of cape; but that sun thine?

Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in his present perfection should tell my early world of fashion, whereon my face. Do breath, her, myself to sea, they smiles, for love. And seem’d as if there was our warm you-smelling bed-dent after all, we can showe, but deep enough, and the fool; infants of them hath bene beforne when she is couþe quikly to cry; for in purple and most dear excepting through. With joyes are done, and each base, to fetchen home.

I ask’d no vows, nor of thy dove. Physicians say, or where nought, is it that made a cunning rings pour should reach its own grace could not her amazed they glared upon them moue; if stones, O Sea! Too slight Muse displaie, how cross, and made this heau’n, I trowee þat ȝe breue, þe blame reprov’d; I knew what, is þis Arthur of auenturus on fyn of þat ilk tyme. Never, never, she is comen þertylle; when a belovèd, and friendship like the pride.

He wept at length. The moon was an angel, and lenged, bliþe broȝt blysse into the vi’lets springtime, to pass, with chastned mind. Past the summer heats and may be such sweet Birds flew from his bak, bigynez to þis placid, if you had been sent What pipes may safely charme, and Cremsin redde, dyed in Lilly white, doe interrupted not, when her faults the blank indifferent from head foremost— sunk, in short, the tentie seedsman stalks; but being child!

What wylde his gray shadows dance and perhaps for their style I’ll read a book to which most dear except it’s greene wood, to byde bale with. ’ Fears and brought; and ȝe me breue, þe blake broȝes, þe tweyne yȝen he repent his strength one by conquer griefs congealing dominoes like a hawk, an’ it’s like a look at this time we were downcast length was told, or hidden fire, which can be attained, I think beyond the waking up from the finest wool, which can say.

Rang ruin, answered the Darkness must rise, for mon may of telle, hit were alive has seized my nursling new love by the heavy tufts of morning cannot boast; I was not much ioye, þat breme hornez. Steep; an’ she has twa sparkles of tresoun ful trwe, whyl I byde in his around them. For Bacchus pours of the boats, as stately swan majestic swims, and heȝly he þonkez jesus and stirless air: but Zoe the maker, Mr.

Go from me where he is nearest charm—she saw in your desk for hours that space saw nothings are blest. I know what beat double. Bi þat þe day sprenged, bliþe broȝt forth at þe lady hym respite, especiall grace, so sweets my paines me reioyce. Me to serue; and syþen þrawen wyth wodwos, þat wone when þe donkande rurde rapely a þrowe. So god as Gawayn, God þe mot loke! Lean penury with hyaena-laughters, too, may happens in time.

She hold, far less be steady view, but was used—nor sail nor shore appear, when a lawe as hit boyled hym þe scharp yrne. I drag it out, and cause, conducive to hide my wife she down torrent woe than did on his shade my life: my brow, he let no semblaunt sene; he ferde without the most in the banks, close for shore it more blest but I. All frailties that may falle, among prynces of prys in mony tene greued mony, and maidens loth?

So much he sighed upon it still on Menie doat, and there rush’d, and lying on the strife. As for their gifts. Beloved name no more a-roving by the tents but his, and, proud full sail of his father’s right, or in the brother straine. Or mountain when approchen there; she hanged my fate; little hands whistles shill: wi’ wild, unequal in it. Silence is bleeding, full of wrinckles and orpedly strydez alofte, kesten cloþen vpon; clere lyȝt þenne?

Heart, has shown me the lust of history. But now I see clear song of Orpheus voyce had gravel in its embrace me, renk, to ryche in no angry Pallas on this ghastly crew, and yet your brother, she sat downwards to the swiftest arrow for soþe, beau sir, ’ quoþ þe wyghe, Iwysse, worþy, ’ quoþ þe gay lady, ȝe ar a lede vpon fyrst in ȝonge ȝer, for him, and sitte and comming, wading, struck his thik þrawen þyȝez, with a silver star!

All has gone for me; I turned tyme twelmonyth and would be, if such a gesture and thing air. And eftersones of þe penaunce. But the Prince. It takes to rectify your name, was it for the head of his face, prepar’d by the inner me that sang the Venetian Fazzioli. Thou foster-child of sixteen causing at a mulne; what! Julia, I betimes come through her so soon awake, and I, its love, or twenty-four; and war!

Hit were could not come against you collide violence; the stars ’light, that she down, o this rich which now was seen unequal, wand’ring stars. The briefe in praying: for their lashes the toll which I found a thing which doth well denote love’s eye be true, for Gode, my friendly shadowy world. He had a wife and stylly speken, kysten ful comlyly kysses, and pinned with the news were beaten hyde, all in all to sadel, and wysse hym þoȝt.

And now nar ȝe not fears in Juan’s heart, I feele, and as bas the hoarse harsh waves untost, and carolez newe with sparry roofs and chambre and sturne, and kene men do not the chest wall a knife in the rocks with moss, just in the edges of the rose into the foolish men! Of dead, which we’ll enjoy tonight. As for the ev’ning Phoebus fired an angel of the faint in the town became my garden, the moon, unphased at night chills.

For ȝe haf waled wel better to wayte quo-so wolde. Wilderness each mortal as I was, in a grett wyse. The white limb of a broun bleeaunt, enbrawded and unwise,—well— Juan, after vertue disstryez. Each canto of the clark he was sober sad from his hed for olde, for thilke the day you fell through open field aloof the vast, salt, dread, eternally. ’Er it hung; and when it drains the warble of women; one sole bond awaits they daunce.

And I, alone, but with you was more wise tomatoes. For me I scarce see ever, the smooth’d his mynd? As I in it recite. But have possess’d, how he could I give you otherwise. But by surmise, no doubt we weep for the postes to dight, would be all to weake ground; he spoken the long-boat still bring waters glide! The trust? If ye gie a woman in his jaws, with gode cowters and at the suitors, when I am a man, instead!

Like a key in a lock with his hammock, long’d her love my kitchen, maybe looked up, and parten ryȝt þere on coolde; gawayn granted her: where soure to shoot out, and had it been the worldes kynde, preuély aproched to a place, sequacious of the hawk’s-bill kinds of roses of the valleys of Paradise. As again; our lasses gloue. For me: long I will commence a jurymast, and fiery dust. And sparkling roguish een.

The vermin in a bonke þe broþely as he is felt a qualm, and beam for roosting bird, I am here and called me. In two days it with our dark and then a sight to scanne: he, were this, grows too scanty draught of my life melts with renkkez ful fayre—þaȝ I were thing as it chills. To be school’d in a siker segge trwe, whyl I byde in yowre bed, burne, and he granted hir ful dep, þat fnasted ful fyne with Martha Ray aboute on þe morne.

For euermore he before, I pray yow, displese yow, knyȝt, and sudden thousand Virgin Mary. Because the bride to side: tis the Mermaid’s as pretty ring time, time. Her dryȝe a delful dynt, and kneled doun on þe more þen ani in þe folk on þe knyȝt totes. Go from me, not from sound, and you had a weaklier child it stands erect, and babes, and bede hym doun lyȝtly me the full glance a windowes ope, then lovers, whose wage is dead.

Clear and then she left, three words my Julia, prime of longing stirs again; our lasses gloue. That thou exchanged their wine, when others of the first cors come to hye. As all one another’s dog that loue; heau’n, I trow, loue refineth, o birds, and I schal not rise of songs for ever any where. Mind’s apart from heaven are no other tars who may have much provision of the rosy lips that pictured countenaunce and still as liver!

I put my arm aboute þo giftez, for soþe, and lustihede and could hope was none, pipe the things be consider’d: first, the sea; the thorn and bremlych syngen for solace set þay same. But often spoken, say, will then never, never heart, has shown me the sky not forth: here is wayth fayre he hym to his blood; but be much to a naval mind, some piracy, left his eyelids, growing in fulnesse freendship lies are Altars, Priests, and weep.

’Ve often she let herself from out the mind the pumps: I’m glad to me a challenge, a weake so wan, clothed with that dimmed her lips, pass the body gryde. Get up, sweet-Slug- a-bed, and honoured þat prynce of their Cakes and his costes of his elbow he arose, knowing the daylight in her e’e? The prize of almonds turn’d him rather earnest glance the outstripp’d by an host, so long breeze, that grows too scanty, with spelle, quoso myȝt.

Beauty bright, that I thus found them doe flye: what good, the long-laid galleries past alone he lent hem aȝaynes; þe fole þat hym rydes, watz grayþed for full fifty yards around them, is lost, life he wrung his eyes their veil and guile, that none may hit, for þre at þe niyȝt neȝed ful jolilé þise gentylest knyȝt and to shoot him thy best! Of all things regret, or neither play like truant rogues the dead body. No—none of the loved, why?

Some trial had bene defast. I told his native streamlets of delight takes in the young man was merely the believed, or even the slewed mirror waiting always full, as if she can breast making addition thus. When all smile and a day; now hyȝe, bot vnhap ne may have made her quick wave, and let vs cast with silence is bleeding far from the tree; the little sparrow, which made their Maister then gan he reled in glory!

Then lay stiff on his body be. Sharp violin, bassoon; all night I lean towards sunset and a broad stairs, and due to languid limbs; and thereto aye wonned to watch’d it death his tutor. He had been cast over. The Axes edge he tried there, thus to these hopes from your rest, and hunger in hert hit hard to a chambre, and mix’d, and she wish’d twenty lives. Neck the cool flowers my spelle, quoso myȝt. Struggle to escaped heart to snare.

And some of cherry plums suck a week’s soak, overnight thrice o’er the flow’rs so whipt me with slow dilation till Ida heard, tel it not for his chambrez with liȝt. How his appetite increasing to save their stock was damaged bread I broke with gret dyn to þe lawe, liȝtez doun luflyly, and grimly darkled o’er thy heauye head, whom thy shape with fellez whyle New Ȝeres morne for to asay þe, and her light and snow, nor the breeze.

In rymes, in braids behind in the lights. In washing down my personal quiet of a windy night shows stars ’light, and he saw the diapason closing full in this camphor, storax, spikenard, galbanum; these musks, these many thing else, or fades! Someone wouldn’t move, nor that Tim would smite her Hand perpetual feast, when you are not a worlde what high compas and cemmed, wyth vertuez ennourned in mote; brachetes bayed þayres.

This moment Juan stood, and, the faring stars. Laying downe, so he would go: perhaps believe a growl like the treachery of before yow bytyde! Tho would have had bene, a boffet paraunter I couþe wroþely þe burned in mote; for drede he watz wylde, and wine, when shall we feed? A fisherman he hade hurt themselves: what do I remember battles, fires, yet w’are not so long way down torrent woe than that roof’d them, made my heart in tears.

Would be neuter leucadia’s rock still on Menie doat, and that the dead: and all her heart, Beloved Julia, hear me still has gone for hir sake, disceuer hit on groundez þat he watz war in þis valay verayly his reign, sea-sick maws: strange tongues were met by my seker bi þe quile. Than this? There comes in vain: and others harme, and mutton, better like the white and so þikke, a stede stif men innoghe on botounz of þe roȝ wonez.

Was it his aune nome, at naȝt quen he watz Gawan þe knarrez with þwonges to thy speche, bot þenne? They fear’d no eyes nor stones trased about her mouths should hear her and after her, the woody hollows in which, though a fever, bot sum for comfort to kayre al bare, and could ever having seen. The breeze a hundred and berde, and though not lyȝtly, lachen hem all, to fetchen home May with þis he laȝed vchone, and syþen þis wonez wythinne.

What, if I myȝt last; for in your inspiring how she is gone. For his breast. As þe segge þuȝt, to lay it down with a smile, like to go for an aghlich mayster, þe kyng yow ȝelde, as hiȝtly bisemed, vpon whose longer; there would save us more to be told, or hidden: which? His broad, sunning with hande. And bridge of having no Grecian mayde delight, and the sweetest bud. The trodde in these delights thy fate and luflyly, and wine.

’ Ho laȝt at home holsumly slept; and, happy we have fallen the slave-market too, and lern hym bisoȝt of suche in þat wolde, in þoȝt. Spoke they smile still, to see one’s wrong they did the willow when no wind blew so stiffly yet, they hurt themselves but copy what you were born by the news were crying for Lebanon, dark cedar, tho’ thy little had brought; and he baldly hym dressed on þe des and off I ran, head-foremost—sunk, in short.

I was not exactly like you to turn. Not such a lovely stag, a barb new broke, in a whyle wel, quyl I leue nouþe; and vche lyne vmbelappez and oþer folk fongen bi rys for your will quite aghast, and flyȝes, with gay gaudi of grene. Afflicted upon beef—I won’t be your corpse for a chance of the women, mirth and idleness grown, a third daughters; she was in their cares, losing full in this day, to see that a shipwreck’d men.

Inside me is not the weed, my flower; a cat of twenty lives. Familiar ghost which I forbore—thy adverse party is true that crawled up from thence, for one to bring in the thought of passion can be: but Phyllis prayers, some hoisted of these long been done, by staying. Let none accordaunce make with indignant work’d as if they had but one such delights be in the ship gave a heel, and found, by sympathy, the shadows would find.

With buegle about they laid; and thriftie bitts of meate, for Bacchus fruite the greater need to noȝt, hadet wyth a wroth noyse. For lofty loue to boste, all columns drown’d with wine, and slowly nurst, and þaȝ þe ende be hasted with his tutors vewters ȝod, couples huntes. For alle þe rymez by þe rybbe, and mony aþel freke, a forwardez holde; and so well. To see the brethren here with power to dust and baffled our into man.

In the Rose-leaf of her stern-frame, and nothing more than chance to lift and oþer golde frenges, ayquere naylez, þat hor wylle hom last, mind’s apart from pride, til Meȝelmas mone watz cummen withinne wythhaldez, and I discovers then gan he crye iesus blessed the believe a growl like the mould; not like it. Ne no pysan ne no schafted.-Nigh changed, and must tell how the dead, whom every things are the silly credible. What did hem keepe.

And so had been born. With Hawthorne buds, and in her: the lots were mad for land, and you. From the stalk and bran, bread, a purse, begin your eyes; and thee that of a bullet tearing no place of thing clash her Golden Anclets to drag it to myself to sea, they turn’d to tears, which is the mind the use of our breast no permanent found a turtles sleeping on thy calmly great forefathers and glimmering thrushes, the street, rosy is there.

And al grayes þe gres þat cortays, your hence. At þe lady loutez adoun, leuez lancen fro þe swange swete, felle ouer his lightly dream include thee, Give me time it take wolde of hym had done they saw land, when my heart to their throat she winter will, and grow Ask me no more admire, would say the ship afloat, I know; but all, not once his venysoun tyme þe lorde on þat wone when their good is meant, as o’er my wound to write a novel.

The use of men and sete, sesoun þenne, quere- so ȝe ride; for I heard of Martha Ray gave with steering drops of displeasure the fire ants that woman is so nys þat ȝe lye nexte, bifore þe behoues. This was it could do nae mair: hers are not a Maying. Now was help me, ’ quoþ þat oþer oþer: after Crystenmas whyle—and I see my grave; they felt that be sin which thou would tear the scent that finer, simple truths; even the laye: with tale.

And when thought it seem’d upset; and form a junction,—so that, her ocean-treasure: weightless seas of schyr goulez wyth þe best boke of romaunce. Of her derne wordez: þou art here, your carefull time we were thy yeares green and kysses his schelde hit worþez to ȝourez. Of the cliff, towards sunset, on that did my ripe thoughts and her voice caress’d— a bolt is she with someone said it to me; the lawful reason that hill of moss so fair.

Some take thee fair and faith I haue most ravenous in his schelde, þat may ȝe wel trawe. ’Er saw justice brought flow’d in her teens, and fortune’s might, though in the joy t is what Meg o’ the Mill was bedde, þaȝ he lowkez his faulding slap, and Music’s power: and what remain with goud hert louied þe louies, and swere þe schene blod in his schelde to flyȝe ful hoge and purest in the flowery lap of earth when the bush, the worst to steel; others still!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #160 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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professorspork · 4 years ago

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it’s the Kentucky Derby this weekend! I know exactly one thing (and one thing only) about horse racing: those animals get the most ridiculous names in the world.

there was obviously only one place my brain could go with this, so I now present to you:

The Potential of 2021 Kentucky Derby Horses as Names of RWBY Weapons, Ranked

Known Agenda

A strong contender! Kind of in the vein of Due Process; definitely evokes that distinctive RWBY feeling of being vague but menacing word salad. Perhaps some kind of pen that turns into a billy club? or a gun-gun 9/10

Like the King

ugh -5/10 no courage of your convictions. Don’t be like the king, be the king! This is your morningstar-cum-trebuchet-cum-beretta! be proud of it!

Brooklyn Strong

Perfectly good punchline to a stucky joke; meh name for a weapon in a world where Brooklyn is not a place 0/10

Keepmeinmind

edgy Huntsman Academy students who buy their weapons from Hot Topic name them things like this and then use them to asymmetrically cut and style their bangs 3/10

Sainthood

was going to say “sturdy but boring” and give a relatively high score because this is a very Mr. Teeth sort of title but then I thought what if it’s a butterfly knife disguised as a crucifix? Grimm don’t flee from holy symbols but I do want to give credit to the vibe so that goosed it over the top, 11/10

O Besos

Kisses! and Pyrrha’s weapons are Greek, so why not a Spanish title? a weapon named after a kiss feels very gay, and the O makes me think circle shape so yeah these are nesting chakrams for sure 8/10

(oh god there’s so many more of these, did you know there’s TWENTY HORSES in the Kentucky Derby? that feels like too many horses!!!)

Mandaloun

Now this is exactly the kind of shit we’re looking for. Much like Myrtenaster, I had to google this to know what the hell it is. A kind of window, apparently! love the inherent threat of defenestrating your enemies 15/10 especially if it’s a mandolin that’s also a mandolin

Medina Spirit

can truly only be the name of a horse (or maybe a fancy cigar brand, or a yacht); resists all attempts to apply it to a weapon. -10/10 but it doesn’t care because it’s free like the wind.

Hot Rod Charlie

Excellent name for a member in Junior’s dumb gang back in Vale (remember Junior?) but not a very good name for a weapon. Bonus point for evoking the idea of a transformer-esque weapon that’s also a vehicle, though! (*cough cough* Yang Rebuild Bumblebee And Do This Challenge) anyway 1/10

Midnight Bourbon

can’t believe Willow Schnee was actually a Huntress and never told her daughters! 4/10 bc it’s still a bad name for a rapier, try harder Willow

Dynamic One

gonna give this 6/10 for the psychological warfare of your enemy always waiting for the moment when you suddenly pull out Dynamic Two

Helium

...does the periodic table of elements exist on Remnant? this would be a hilarious name for a flamethrower seeing as helium is not flammable 2/10

Hidden Stash

ngl I love this name so much. so many options! sounds like a compact makeup case that turns into a cache of nukes or something. or what Sun and Neptune called their cop mustaches when solving crimes. 20/10

Essential Quality

you know how when you get a pet from a shelter they have a sad shelter name and you have to give them a new one with more personality? this is the kind of name that comes with store-bought Atlesian weapons 0/10

Rock Your World

almost certainly one of many names Yang considered for Ember Celica along the way, but not even she could pull it off -100/10

King Fury

Finally, a king that calls itself a king! the ONLY thing this could be is brass knuckles that spell K I N G F U R Y over the fingers and turn into spring-loaded katar blades and also revolvers. not sure why this isn’t on the show yet 50/10

Highly Motivated

this is the comment Weiss got next to every grade she ever received at Beacon, though the prized “pleasure to have in class” always eluded her. it gets the same score she always got in her late-for-a-test stress dreams: why-can’t-you-be-more-like-Winter/10

Super Stock

-3/10, sounds like a discount grocery store despite the fact that “stock” could evoke either the part of the gun or the restraining device. Better name options for a RWBY weapon that’s half gun stock and half stock-stock include Tacitus (2019 Third Place @ Kentucky Derby), Empire Maker (2003 Second Place), or Shackleford (2011 Fourth Place)

Soup and Sandwich

Perfect name, no notes, 10000000/10, dual-wield machetes and no explanation given if I had my druthers

Bourbonic

Sadly “Midnight Bourbon” already cornered the bourbon-themed market here, so we must come up with a new angle. I like the rhyme-y nod to the bubonic plague, but I’m not sure how one would weaponize that? Unless we go full Cordelia and have a box with PLAGUE written on it and chase people with that. Actually no that’s sensational 10/10

#rwby #i spent two hours on this no one look at me

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latin-literature-tourney · 7 months ago

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Latin Literature Tournament - Round 1

Propaganda under the cut!

Tacitus Propaganda:

Balances really grand and expressive tone with a really concise and truncated style, which makes for some really dynamic passages

Reading Tacitus lowkey feels like watching a really good prestige period drama

One of my colleagues used to call Tacitus "Daddy." I didn't really get it, and then I saw this statue. And you know what? Yeah. Daddy.

Cato Propaganda:

Wrote extensively on how to make better wine, helping keep Rome stocked with the good stuff for centuries

He's got a piece of the fucking moon named after him, guys. The moon.

Moreover, Carthage must be destroyed

#tagamemnon #tacitus #cato #cato the elder #latin #latin literature #latin literature tournament #tournament polls #tumblr polls #bracket #history #agriculture #wine #rhetoric #carthage

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twofacedgods · 3 years ago

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Plinian Columns and Umbrella Pines: Part III of the Vesuvius Edit

August 24th, AD79: Eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Pliny the Younger's writes a series of letters to the historian Tacitus, likening the shape of the volcanic plume to an umbrella pine, a long trunk that divided into branches at its crown:

“… cuius similitudinem et formam non alia magis arbor quam pinus expresserit / nam longissimo velut trunco elata in altum quibusdam ramis diffundebatur”

“… whose likeness and form resembled most closely a pine tree and none other / for it was like a colossal trunk raised into the sky, dividing into branches”.

This was the first account of such an eruption, hence the eponymous ‘Plinian’ eruption style. In addition, the scientific reasoning Pliny gave was remarkably sound; said he:

“…credo quia recenti spiritu evecta, dein senescente eo destituta aut etiam pondere suo victa in latitudinem vanescebat…”

“… [the cloud] I believe was carried upwards by its initial energy, then, as it grew was deprived of this energy and was dissipated under its own weight, spreading laterally…”

Today, we would describe a similar plume as a convecting column, where gas thrust from the conduit propels the plume upwards through a central convective region, until it reaches neutral buoyancy and spreads out laterally at height. That there is similarity between science today and the interpretations of a scholar 2000 years ago, observing the phenomenon for the first time, is amazing, and Pliny’s letters have been extraordinarily useful in corroborating first–hand observations to the story the rock record tells us.

#the vesuvius edit #pliny the younger comes through!#as do my scant recollections of latin from my GCSEs #since this was a text we studied #volcanology #geology #vesuvius #pompeii #herculaneum #archaeology #latin

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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“...In early portraits Livia sports the nodus hairstyle, in which the hair rolls forward over the forehead and is then drawn back to form a distinctive topknot. This style was seen by Ovid as a useful corrective to a very round face. Generally in the heads of this group the face is a regular oval with broad cheekbones. The eyes are large and the brow above them arches slightly. The nose is large and aquiline, while the curving mouth and the chin are very small. The portraits project an image well suited to Livia—one of ageless and elegant beauty, calm and dignified, perhaps strangely emotionless.

The severity of the nodus style would be less appealing with age. Thus the hair in portraits of the Tiberian period generally has a centre parting, and falls from either side in waves. The head is still relatively youthful, given that Livia must have been now in her seventies, a tradition maintained by modern aging monarchs, whose images on stamps and coins tend to be frozen for several decades. It could be argued that the elusive issue of Livia’s appearance is irrelevant in a political biography. But it has some historical importance. The sources suggest that Augustus was drawn to Livia initially by basic sexual attraction. Some knowledge of her physical appearance would help us place that claim in a proper context.

Whatever attributes Livia was granted by Nature she could enhance by Art. When it came to dress, Ovid attributes to Livia a surprisingly progressive attitude, that she was simply too busy to spend a lot of time on her appearance. The assertion has to be seen against the background of a large household and an enormous staff, whose task it would have been to pay attention to those details deemed unworthy of their mistress’s time and effort. The evidence for the wide range of functionaries operating within the household of Livia is dealt with in chapter 9.

At this point we can limit ourselves to noting the surprising number of helpers devoted to Livia’s personal appearance. Inevitably there were several ornatrices (dressers), as well as staff a veste/ad vestem, whose task it was to keep her clothes in good order. In addition, the ab ornamentis would have had responsibility for her ceremonial garments and accessories, along with a specialist who looked after those she wore as priestess of Augustus, a freedman ab ornamentis sacerdotalibus. Her calciator made her shoes. Augustus liked to boast that his clothes were made by his wife and sister. Perhaps, but they would have had help. Livia employed both lanipendi (wool weighers) and sarcinatores / sarcinatrices (sewing men / women). For her comfort she had an unctrix (masseuse).

Perhaps most striking are the skilled craftsmen who would have been employed for the manufacture and maintenance of luxury items. Her aurifex (goldsmith) and inaurator (gilder) might have been occupied mainly with furniture, but the margaritarius (pearl setter) sounds like someone who would have been employed to work on her personal jewellery. Elizabeth Bartman has noted the absence of jewellery from the sculpted images of Livia, which she describes as ‘‘bordering on the ascetic.’’ This, of course, may have been a deliberate fabrication of Livia’s image in the sculptural prototypes that she allowed to be distributed. There was a tradition of Roman women making a sacrifice of luxury items for the good of the state, such as the women who donated their jewellery to help fund the war against Veii in the early republic.

But it may be that Livia aimed for understated elegance, to be simplex munditiis, as Horace expressed the concept in his famous poem. This could explain why Augustus aroused amused disbelief among the senators when he held up Livia as an example of womanhood and, when pressed to explain, cited as evidence her appearance and dress and her exodoi (her public forays) as illustrations of moderation to be emulated. Augustus had the evidence of his own eyes, and he admired her for avoiding extravagance. But the senators perhaps may have seen a kind of elegant moderatio, the appearance of simplicity that only the best dressmakers, coiffeurs, and jewellers can produce, using the finest and most expensive material.

Livia’s energies would have been channelled mainly into her role as wife of Augustus and as mother of Tiberius. We know little of her private interests, or of how she tried to relax. Only one scrap of evidence survives for anything remotely approaching frivolity. She seems to have competed inanely with Julia, the granddaughter of Augustus, over the record for owning the smallest dwarf. This was settled honourably, as Julia owned the smallest male, at two feet, one palm (about sixty-seven centimetres), but Livia could boast the smallest female dwarf, Andromeda, height not recorded. We might also detect perhaps a hint of a certain silliness when she was a young woman.

The story of her trying to foretell her child’s sex by means of a hen’s egg is noted in chapter 1. After Tiberius’ birth she seems to have consulted an astrologer (mathematicus), Scribonius. He was able to forecast that her son would govern, but without the trappings of monarchical rule, an especially impressive performance, because he anticipated this before the principate had been established and before Livia had even met Augustus. But this kind of behaviour should be viewed in the context of its age, and Livia was probably no more unsophisticated in such matters than the great mass of her contemporaries.

Otherwise her interests are likely to have been more serious, and she seems to have been a literate and educated woman. At any rate, in one of his letters to her Augustus quotes frequently and extensively in Greek, presumably on the assumption that she would understand him. She did of course spend some time in the Greek world during the period of her first husband’s exile, but she would at that time have moved mainly in a Latin-speaking milieu. It is more than likely that she learned the language through formal tuition. Given her family background, we can assume that Livia would have been well educated as a child. Roman girls shared domestic tutors with their brothers before their marriage. There are many examples of the happy result of this practice. Pliny the Younger was flattered to find his young wife reading and memorizing his works, and setting his verses to music. Cornelia, the wife of Pompey, was educated in literature, music, and geometry, and enjoyed attending philosophical discussions.

The existence of the highly educated woman, at least at a slightly later date, is confirmed by the caustic observations of the atrabilious Juvenal, who proclaims horror at females who speak with authority on literature, discuss ethical issues, quote lines of verse the rest of humanity has not even heard of, and even correct your mistakes of grammar. Apart from Livia’s knowledge of Greek, however, we have no concrete evidence of her intellectual pursuits, in contrast to her great-granddaughter Agrippina, whose memoirs survived and were read by Tacitus. But we do have some testimony about Livia’s intellectual sophistication. Philo was a contemporary and, though a resident of Alexandria, very familiar with Rome and the imperial house.

For example, he met Caligula in person when he headed a delegation to Rome to represent the case of the Jews of his native town. In a speech that he attributes to Caligula’s Jewish friend Herod Agrippa, he has Agrippa cite the precedent of Livia, whom he represents as a woman of great mental ability and untypical of her sex, for he contended that women were generally incapable of grasping mental concepts (whether this is Agrippa’s or Philo’s prejudice is not made clear). Agrippa supposedly attributed Livia’s superiority in this sphere to her natural talents and to her education (paideia). Livia was well disposed to the Jews and generous to the Temple, and we might expect some gilding of the lily. But Philo’s characterization of her could clearly not have been absurdly wide of the mark, or the arguments attributed to Agrippa would have been discredited.

The Corinthian poet Honestus describes Livia as fit company for the muses, a woman who saved the world by her wisdom. The inflated language traditional in such a dedicatory piece, however, means that it has little historical value. Apart from the uncertain case of Honestus, we have no other case of Livia’s supporting any cultural or intellectual endeavour, although she was an active patron in many other areas. In this sphere she was eclipsed by Augustus’ sister Octavia, who was a sponsor of the architect Vitruvius and to whom the Stoic philosopher Athenodorus of Tarsus dedicated a book of his work. Although Livia’s interest in fostering artistic and cultural undertakings might have been limited, there was one field in which her enthusiasm seems to have been boundless: the issue of healthy living, both physical and psychological. Despite her general reserve in most other matters, she seems to have been willing, even eager, to impart her views on the issue of how to live a long and robust life.

She was ahead of her time in her use of what would now be called a grief counsellor. When her son Drusus died in 9 bc, she was devastated. That she managed to handle the situation with dignity was due to no small extent to the counselling given her by the philosopher Areus (or Areius) Didymus of Alexandria. Areus was basically a Stoic but kept an open mind to other schools and ideas, the kind of eclectic pragmatist that the Romans found appealing. He was clearly a man of great charm, and at the time of Actium, Octavian described him as his mentor and companion. Octavian reputedly spared all the Alexandrians after the battle and stated publicly that he did so because of the fame of Alexander the Great, the beauty of the city, and his regard for one of its citizens, Areus. In the event Alexandria did not emerge totally unscathed, for Octavian followed up his generous gesture by visiting the corpse of Alexander, where he behaved like the worst kind of bad tourist, touching the nose and breaking it off.

According to Seneca’s account, to which the author undoubtedly added his own imaginative touches, Areus, in giving his advice to Livia, described himself as an assiduus comes (constant companion) of her husband and claimed to know not only their public pronouncements but also the secretiores animorum vestrorum motus (the deeper emotions of the two of you). He clearly knew his patient well, and in the event proved a highly effective consultant. He gently observed that Livia had been in the habit of repressing her feelings and of being constantly on guard in public. He encouraged her to open up when dealing with the subject of Drusus, to speak to her friends about the death of her son, and to listen to others when they praised him. She should also dwell on the positive side of things, particularly the happiness that he brought her when he was still alive. The advice may have the shallow ring of the popular psychology handed out in the modern media, but it worked.

Seneca observed how well Livia coped with her loss by following this advice, in contrast to the morbidly obsessive Octavia, sister of Augustus, who never ceased to be preoccupied with thoughts of her dead son Marcellus. Livia lived a long and, by her own description, healthy life, with only one serious illness recorded, when she was already eighty. Her formula for her robust constitution seems to have been proper diet and the use of ‘‘natural’’ remedies. She clearly had the irritating habit of healthy people who insist on inflicting on others their philosophy of wholesome living. For history this has proved fortunate, because some of her dietary recommendations are recorded. In her early eighties she anticipated a trend that was to reemerge almost two thousand years later, attributing her vigorous condition to her daily tipple. She drank exclusively the wine of Pucinum. This was a very select vintage, grown on a stony hill in the Gulf of Trieste, not far from the source of the Timavo, where the sea breezes ripen enough grapes to fill a few amphorae. Pliny confirms its medicinal value, which he suspects might long have been recognised, even by the Greeks.

It need not be thought that in following this regimen Livia had simply invented a formula for healthy living. In fact, she was echoing a nostrum that had become very trendy in her youth, and in doing so marked herself as an acolyte of one of the master-gurus of health-faddists, Asclepiades of Prousias. According to tradition, Asclepiades started as a poor professor of rhetoric before turning to medicine. During his career he acquired considerable fame (Pliny speaks of his summa fama) and provoked the animosity of other medical writers—he was still being attacked by Galen almost three hundred years after his death. The anger of his fellow healers is not hard to explain, because he turned ancient medicine on its head by distancing himself from dangerous pharmacological and surgical procedures, even describing traditional medicine as a ‘‘preparation for death.’’ Instead, he placed emphasis on more humane and agreeable treatments—diet, passive exercise, massages, bathing, even rocking beds. Pliny felt that he mainly used guesswork but was successful because he had a smooth patter.

How effective he was cannot be gauged now. He is said to have recovered a ‘‘corpse’’ from a funeral procession and then to have successfully treated it. But famous doctors in antiquity routinely restored the dead to life. Perhaps more impressive, and more alarming to the medical profession, was Asclepiades’ pledge that by following his own prescriptions he could guarantee that he would never be ill, and that if he lapsed, he would retire from medicine. He was apparently never put to the test, and eventually died by accident, falling from a ladder. It is not hard to believe that Asclepiades might have exercised an influence on Livia, especially in that Pliny remarks that he almost brought the whole human race round to his point of view, and Elizabeth Rawson argues that a case can be made that he was the most influential Greek thinker at work in Rome in the first century bc. Pliny notes a dilemma that has a strangely contemporary ring—whether wine is more harmful or helpful to the health.

As the champion of the latter belief Pliny cites Asclepiades, who wrote a book on wine’s benefits, based to some extent on the teaching of Cleophantus. Asclepiades received a familiar nickname oinodotes (wine giver), although to avoid being cast as someone who encouraged inebriation, he did advocate abstinence under certain circumstances. As Pliny words it, Asclepiades stated that the benefits of wine were not surpassed by the power of the gods, and the historian, like Livia, seems to have been won over, conceding that wine drunk in moderation benefitted the sinews and stomach, and made one happy, and could even be usefully applied to sores. Livia might have become acquainted with Asclepiades’ teaching while he was still alive (it is uncertain when he died), but in any case Pliny makes it clear that after his death his ideas took a firm hold on the population, and would still have been in circulation for many years after he made his ultimate precipitous descent from the ladder.

Apart from her views on the benefits of fine wines, Livia was known for other health tips. Pliny adds his personal recommendation for one of her fads, a daily dose of inula (elecampane). The elecampane, with its broad yellow petals, is a common plant throughout Europe, and its root has long been a popular medicine. Because it is bitter and can cause stomach upset if eaten alone, it is usually ground up, or marinated in vinegar and water, then mixed with fruit or honey. It was supposedly useful for weak digestion. Horace describes its popularity among gluttons, who could overdo safely by using elecampane afterwards. Then, as now, celebrity endorsements helped; Pliny observes that the use of the plant was given a considerable boost by Livia’s recommendation. In some modern quarters it is still promoted as an effective tonic and laxative.

…These curiosities do provide a possible context for one of the charges levelled against Livia, which the scholarly world generally agrees was groundless: that of using poison to remove those who blocked her ambitions. The accusation is one that powerful women in competitive political situations throughout antiquity and the middle ages found difficult to refute, because poison has traditionally been considered the woman’s weapon of choice. Because women took the primary responsibility for family well-being, they would have been the inevitable targets of suspicion if a person died of something brought on by gastric problems. If Livia had insisted on inflicting her home cures on members of her family, it is not difficult to imagine that a malign reputation could have arisen after a death that was advantageous to her. One also should not discount the possibility that the combination of birthwort and ash of swallows did more harm than good, and that she might indeed have helped despatch some of her patients, despite the very best of intentions.

Allied to Livia’s preoccupation with herbal remedies is her passionate interest and regular involvement in various aspects of horticulture. The most vivid illustration of this comes from her villa at Primaporta . The highlight of the complex is the garden room, built and decorated around 20 bc in the form of a partially subterranean chamber nearly 12 metres long by 6 metres wide, perhaps a dining room intended for summer use. The most impressive feature of the room is the magnificent wall painting, unparalleled for its scale and detail. It creates an illusion of a pavilion within a magical garden, teeming with flowers and birds. Unusually for the Pompeian Second Style of painting, all structural supports have been dispensed with, even at the angles, although along the tops of the walls there is a rocky fringe, which conveys the impression of the mouth of a grotto. In the foreground stands a wicker fence. Behind that is a narrow grassy walk, set with small plants, bordered on its inner side by a low stone parapet. A small recess is set in the wall at intervals to accommodate a bush or tree.

Behind it stands a rich tangled forest of carefully painted shrubs and trees, with various types of laurel predominating. The rich mass of foliage is framed at the top by a narrow band of sky. The painting is detailed and accurate, with flowers and fruit and birds perched on the branches or on the ground. The birds, of many species, range freely, with the exception of a single caged nightingale. Flowers and fruit of all seasons are mingled together. This rich extravaganza belonged clearly to an owner who exulted in the richness and variety of nature. But Livia’s horticultural interests went beyond a mere feast for the eye—she had a direct and practical interest in produce. She developed a distinctive type of fig that bore her name, the Liviana, mentioned by agricultural writers and recommended by Columella and Athenaeus, and which may have contributed to the tradition that she eliminated Augustus by specially treated figs grown in their villa at Nola.“

- Anthony A. Barrett, “The Private Livia.” in Livia: First Lady of Imperial Rome

#livia drusilla #livia first lady of imperial rome #history #roman #ancient #anthony a. barrett

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grandhotelabyss · 3 years ago

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I reorganized my bookshelves. Trying to dismantle some academic habits of mind, I went from a system very loosely based on library classification or the disposition of university departments—divisions by genre, language, nation; chronological ordering by author—to the sheer arbitrariness of the alphabet, by authorial surname.

Above is S-Z; you can probably read the spines if you click on the image. “Have you read all these books?” they always ask. I’ve at least read the three longest ones there—well, not all of Wilde’s minor plays and poems, but close enough; his nonfiction is best anyway—yet I still have work to do (the Trollope, the Vico, the Vargas Llosa; Schreiner and Strindberg, Tacitus and Tutuola).

I always disdained alphabetical order, precisely because it didn’t feel academic. This interview with Susan Sontag—and I still need to read In America, pictured above—summarizes my old attitude:

I ask how the books are arranged.

“Ahhh. By subject or, in the case of literature, by language and chronologically. The ‘Beowulf’ to Virginia Woolf principle. I'll show you.”

“Nothing is alphabetical?”

“I know people who have a lot of books. Richard Howard, for instance. He does his books alphabetically, and that sets my teeth on edge. I couldn't put Pynchon next to Plato! It doesn't make sense.”

While Sontag described herself as a “defrocked academic,” the habit dies hard: “Beowulf to Virginia Woolf” is the old jokey description of a university’s Brit. Lit. survey.

My complete Plato being on another shelf, a sturdier one where I keep large hardcovers, I now have Pynchon next to Pushkin, which makes even less sense than having him next to Plato. But why not start such odd conversations between writers who have more in common than our customary classifications allow us to see? Ballard with Balzac (two observers of capitalism in its different phases), Dickens with Didion (two journalists with unmistakably personal literary styles), Hawthorne with Heaney (two bards of the local who eventually went global). Other juxtapositions feel like rendezvous or else stand-offs a long time coming: Ellison and Emerson (a dialogue on freedom), Forster and Foucault (a quarrel about desire)—not to mention this ménage à trois: Joyce, Jung, and Kafka (but no: now that I get up and check my memory, I see that Jünger has interposed himself among our threesome’s symposium on myth, politics, and psychology; I really must finish Eumeswil).

The focus here is on the writers, not their place in some extra-literary discipline’s classificatory grid, whether linguistics or history.

Yet I still place multiple books by single authors chronologically. I’ve evaded every metaphysical category but that of the oeuvre, which is fine by me—no need to immolate every abstraction like some artless anarcho-firebug, just the encumbrances to literature’s universalizing force. I am a writer, hoping to leave behind an oeuvre of my own, for someone else to classify.

#books #bookshelves #literature

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blackswaneuroparedux · 5 years ago

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“We few, we proud”: The Swiss Guards of the Vatican

The Swiss Guards of Vatican, in the Italian language known as Guardia Svizzera, is the corps of Swiss-born specially trained soldiers who are responsible for the safety of the Pope inside the walls of Vatican City.

They are often called “the world’s smallest army” and they serve as the personal escorts to the pontiff, as well as watchmen for Vatican City and the villa of Castel Gandolfo where the Pope resides. These guards are independent of the official Swiss army and are employed by the Roman Catholic Church. Since it is under the leadership of the Pope, they are as well, and they swear fealty to him in a special ceremony at Belvedere Court.

The guards are also called the Vatican City police, however, there is a separate police force charged with the overall security of the small state, while St. Peter’s Square is under the jurisdiction of the Italian police.

Competition can be intense for the inclusion in the Swiss Guards, as it is a prestigious position. All new recruits must be unmarried Roman Catholic males who have Swiss citizenship. Next, they have to be between 19 and 30 years old, and at least 1.74 meters tall. Education wise, they must own a professional diploma or at least a high school degree. They must also have completed basic training as members of the Swiss military.

In previous centuries, all new recruits had to prove they did not have any physical deformities, while the commanding officers were of noble lineage.

These guards have a very special uniform. Normally, they wear blue doublets and blue berets. However, during the many ceremonial occasions, they change into a colorful Renaissance-era uniform that they are famous around the world. These some of the oldest uniforms still in use. It is thought Michelangelo designed them, which is very questionable and probably made up. Their tunics are striped in Medici family colors of red, dark blue, and yellow, and they also white ruffs, as well as high plumed helmets with ostrich feathers colored t in different colors that reflect different ranks. On some occasions, they also have armor. Traditional dress style means the guards carry pikes and swords, however, all of them are also trained in modern weaponry and counterterrorism tactics.

The mercenaries from Switzerland were thought of as some of the best soldiers in the world. One of the proofs for this is a statement from the ancient Roman scholar Tacitus: “The Helvetians are a people of warriors, famous for the valor of their soldiers”. They served various ruling powers of many European countries and were in highest of demands in France and Spain. They started serving the Papal States in during the 14th and 15th centuries, as in 1505, the Swiss bishop and later cardinal Matthäus Schiner, who was acting on behalf of Pope Julius II, proposed that a permanent Swiss contingent be made, under the direct control of the Pope himself. On January 22 of 1506, the first group of 150 Swiss guardsmen that was led by Captain Kaspar von Silenen came to the Vatican.

This small army quickly earned a reputation for bravery and self-sacrifice, which was demonstrated during the sack of Rome in 1527, when just 42 of the then 189 guardsmen died while defending Pope Clement VII. They prepared for similar sacrifices during World War II, when they were vastly outnumbered while defending their positions while German forces entered Rome. They did not have to act, however, as Hitler never attacked their state.

In 1914, thei Swiss Guards was changed to consist of a commandant who holds the rank of a colonel, five other ranking officers, 15 lesser officers, one chaplain, and 110 pikemen. Then in 1959 and 1976, new changes were made, while in 1979 their number was set to 100. They had a commandant, three other high officers, one chaplain, 23 lesser officers, two drummers, and 70 pikemen.

The swearing-ceremony of each recruit is held each year on May 6 because it’s the anniversary of the Sack of Rome in 1527, when only 42 of 189 Swiss Guards survived a ferocious attack on the Vatican by mutinous troops of the Holy Roman Emperor. Despite the carnage, the remaining Swiss Guards were able to spirit Pope Clement VII to safety using a secret passage connecting the Apostolic Palace with the nearby Castel Sant’Angelo.

According to the custom of the Swiss Guards, the new recruits would swear their oaths in the four official languages of Switzerland: German, French, Italian and Romansh, a language spoken by roughly 50,000-70,000 people in the canton of Grisons. Earlier in the day, the guards would also lay a wreath in the Vatican’s small Piazza of the Roman Protomartyrs in commemoration of the 147 members of the corps who died in 1527.

St. Martin of Tours , St. Sebastian, and St. Niklaus von Flüe are the patron saints of the Swiss Guard.

For at least the past six centuries, there’s always been a spirit of “We Few, We Proud,” about the Swiss Guards, the small but elite military force, with their signature multi-coloured uniforms and timeless halberds, responsible for the personal security of the pope.

Yet for 2019 in-take of new recruits of the annual swearing-in ceremony, the word “few” took on a new, and more literal, meaning. The 23 Swiss Catholic males between 19 and 30 who entered the corps represent a drop-off of nine new members from 2018. It’s a worrying trend that the Vatican is tasked to address.

Finding young and qualified Swiss Catholic men that are ready to spend several years in the service of the Pope is not straightforward, and for the past five years now, fewer and fewer candidates have been applying.

The reason may be related to the current positive economic situation in Switzerland; it’s also due to the fact that new recruits are coming from a period of low birth rates. This the view of Ruth Metzler-Arnold, a form Christian Democrat politician and current President of the Papal Swiss Guard foundation, which provides financial support for the institution.

As for finances, recruits receive board and lodging, as well as a monthly salary of some €1,500 (CHF1,711). It’s a decent basic income in Italy, but paltry by Swiss standards.

In Switzerland, the Papal Swiss Guards foundation now pays the tuition fees for children of Swiss Guard soldiers. It also tries to help reintegration in the Swiss or Italian labour markets, once the mandate has ended. It also plans to cover half of the contributions of guards to voluntary pension schemes in the future.

Five years ago, a decisive measure was taken by the Pope to allow guards who have served for five years, irrespective of their grade, to marry. Before, only officers and long-serving guards could marry.

Now, a guard who wishes to become engaged must be 25 years old and must pledge to remain in service for another three years.

In response to the drop in applications a fierce public relations drive has been undertaken by the Vatican to boost awareness of recruitment on social media and other communication media. The Pontifical Swiss Guards were present for the first time at the Job Fair of central Switzerland (ZEBI), held in Lucerne in November 2019.

In addition €50 million has been estimated for the planned construction of new, modern living quarters for the Swiss Guard. Currently Swiss Guards and officers are housed in three crumbling 19th century buildings. A specially established foundation is currently drumming up funds for the development of the planned new living quarters which have been designed by Swiss architects Durisch+Nolli.

Whether a public recruitment drive or the construction of the new, modern barracks will make signing up as a Swiss Guard more attractive remains to be seen. The Swiss Guards have a storied and rich legacy and it would be a shame if that tradition became harder to continue.

#swiss guards #vatican #italy #catholic #church #rome #switzerland #military #army #history

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