Friday Morning Latin Lesson, Vol. CXII

As referenced earlier in the week, this is a busy and fun time of the year for people who enjoy classical history and dipping into the hagiography of the Catholic church.  Which is true:  I haven't been quite this busy blogging for three or four years, at least.  Four entries in one week?  Amazing.


And what have I talked about?  Oh, the usual things.  I've just rehashed the fact that I like desserts (especially pie), drinking, and redheads.  Nothing new here, I know.  Hope you were sitting down for that shocking revelation.


I glossed over the murder of Caesar for the Ides of March post in favor of the murder of Odoacer, Rex Italiae, since I felt like mixing things up a bit for the Ides of March post this year.  Same with St. Patrick:  I didn't so much discuss Patrick's life, legend, and legacy so much as I focused on some of the peripherals that are associated with Irish "history" and St. Patrick's Day celebrations.


Anyway, as is known, Julius Caesar was murdered in the Theater of Pompey on the Ides of March--March 15th--because various senators were worried that he had accrued too much power for himself and the Republic was moving toward rule by a single citizen...which, of course, happened a few years after Caesar's murder.  His murder was the thing that precipitated the end of the Republic; I think we call that irony.


Caesar was stabbed 23 times, and according to some "forensic" studies I've read, only one of the stab wounds was really deep enough to kill him.  It may have been that murder was not what was on the senators' minds when they attacked him, but more just to teach him a lesson.  Although, 23 stab wounds is quite a lesson.  What they didn't tell you is that there was one last senator in the group who had a bunch of lemon juice to pour in those wounds.  Talk about cruel and unusual punishment!


Famously (thanks in part to Shakespeare's dramatization of the event), Caesar withstood the attack until he saw his friend Brutus among the attackers.  In the play, Caesar asked aloud "Et tu, Brute? Then here falls Caesar."  In actually, he probably said "Kai su, teknon?" (according to Roman historian Suetonius, at least), which means "And you, child?" in Greek.  Whichever is more correct is debatable (not like we can ask anyone, unless the Doctor shows up to clarify Caesar's final moments), but I like to think that right before asking either of these questions, Caesar queried the senators as such:

"Estne pugio in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?"
Pronounced: "Est-nay poo-gee-oh in toh-ga, ahn so-loom tee-bee lee-bet may wee-dare-ay?"




That's no dagger.
Translation in the hovertext (I remembered how to do it).

Pugio was the Latin term for a dagger.  It's related to the word pugno which means "I fight" or "I combat" and several terms in English have been derived from this root, including "pugilist" which is a fancy word for "fighter" or "boxer."  To tie this all up together, my beloved Fighting Irish play their opening round tournament game today against the hated skunkbears from Michigan.  In Latin, the term for "Fighting Irish" would be "Hibernii Pugnaces," ergo I shall be watching the game tonight and shouting "Imus Hibernii Pugnaces!" at my computer screen.

Well, not really, but you get the idea.

In case you can't hovertext:  "Is that a dagger in your toga, or are you just happy to see me?"

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

If I were a better writer, I'd track down what iteration of the Saint Patrick's Day post this is.  I am not that person, however, so I'll just roll with it.  Pretend the Germans just bombed Pearl Harbor.

I've discussed in the past how Patricius (the man who would become Patrick) was a Roman citizen of Brittania who was probably a member of some minor noble family.  He was already a Christian when he was kidnapped and taken to Ireland, where he served as a slave for several years before escaping and making his way to mainland Europe.  After a trip to Rome, he returned to Ireland and drove out the snakes (symbolism for the pagans) and converted the Irish to Catholicism.  He then went on a spree of church building through the British Isles and ended up in Northern Indiana where he founded the greatest Catholic University on the Face of the Planet and Possibly the Universe.  That last part might be apocryphal.

Or he might have been a composite mixture of another Irish saint, Palladius, who also made a lot of churches but isn't nearly as tied in with the weak excuse to drink Guinness and behave like an asshole on the 17th of March.

As far as stouts go, Guinness is a pretty weak one.  Thanks to the craft beer revolution here in America, I can think of at least ten stouts that are far better than Guinness.  Stouts are actually a subset of porters, which are dark brown ales that are made with roasted malts, giving them the darker color.  They're typically stronger than their lighter-toned cousins, and the strongest of porters came to be known as "stout porters" and eventually just "stouts."  Nowadays, stouts are typically just the darkest of beers and the word "stout" has little to do with the actual alcohol content (for instance, Guinness, the "best" stout, weighs in at a paltry 4.3% abv, per the wiki entry).  And here's the real kick in the teeth for those who want to link Guinness (certainly a true Irish brewer) and stouts with Ireland:  Porters were first developed and named in London, England.  The dark color, thicker consistency, and affordability of porters made them popular with--sit down for this--porters (men who carried things).  Since the beer was cheap to make and was somewhat undesirable (philistines), it was shipped to Ireland where it quickly grew in popularity.  To lower costs even more (hooray, free market capitalism!), Guinness began brewing porters in the late 1700's and by 1780 was one of the top producers of this kind of beer.

So, not only is Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland from the British mainland, so too is the national beer of Ireland an English import.

Best damned leprechaun ever!

Well, the leprechaun has to be a true Irish symbol, right?  Well, yes and no.  The leprechaun, for all its connotations with being Irish, rarely appears in Irish mythology.  When the leprechaun does pop up, it is typically a mischief-maker, but more commonly is associated with being a loner who moves about the countryside repairing shoes.  A leprechaun is more similar to German sprites and gnomes than it is with any of the pantheon of Irish mythology.  In fact, the leprechaun appears so rarely in Irish stories that it's assumed to be a later addition to Irish lore than more traditional Irish spirits, such as the Banshee or the Tuatha de Danaan (which is a whole wide range of Irish spirits).  There is even confusion with what to do with a leprechaun, should you manage to catch one.  He (they are almost invariably male) will either give you his pot of gold (another property of the leprechaun that seems to be a late addition to the story) or he will grant you three wishes.  Most depictions of leprechauns center around the stereotypes of the Irish, especially in America, and many traditional Irish people look at leprechauns as just a prop for tourism.

Well...if Patrick isn't all that Irish and Guinness is a British import and a leprechaun is just a symbol for anti-Irish propaganda, what about the color green?

Green, White and Orange
has never been sexier!

Finally, we've found something that does seem to be a true symbol of Ireland...ish.  Ireland, of course, is known as the "Emerald Isle" because of the lush, verdant fields and the magnificent greenery that can be viewed in the countryside.  It makes sense, then, that the Irish national color would be green and that they would march into battle or rally behind a green banner, right?  Sure...except the green flag of Ireland is actually younger than the flag of the United States.  The "traditional" Irish flag featured a lot more blue than any other color for most of its history (Ireland, of course, being a loose conglomeration of kingdoms until the British conquests).

It wasn't until the late 1700's (Guinness is actually older than the green flag) that green began to be used as a symbol of Ireland.  Inspired by the French Revolution (and probably a little by the American Revolution), the United Irishmen raised a banner of green with a harp emblazoned on the field (the harp actually is a traditional Irish symbol) sometime around 1790.  Part of the choice of the color green was to stand in opposition to the orange color associated with the Orange Order, which was a symbol of King William of Orange and the Glorious Revolution of 1688.  William of Orange, of course, was an "English" king and was thus a symbol of British rule over the Irish.  After the Irish Rebellion of 1798, the modern Irish flag with the green, white and orange was introduced as a hopeful means of bringing a peaceful end to hostilities between the Catholic majority (the green) and the Protestant minority (the orange) of Ireland, with white being the symbol of peace in between the two groups.

Well, fuck.  It seems as though all the things we naturally associate with the Irish and Saint Patrick's day aren't all that Irish.  Unfortunately, leprechauns, the Irish spirits that most Irish want to disassociate with their Irish heritage, are the most Irish of all these symbols.

Next, you're going to tell me that the Notre Dame Fighting Irish, a school in Northern Indiana with a French name by a priest of Romanian heritage isn't all that Irish either!  The nerve!!!

However you decide to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day, just remember to lay off the brogues and drink responsibly.  Maybe enjoy some basketball and don't make an ass of yourself.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

Friday Morning Latin Lesson, Vol. CVIII

April was an exciting month in the life of Emperor Caracalla.  Oh, you weren't familiar with Caracalla?  He was Roman Emperor from 198 to 217, part of the Severine dynasty.  To give you the short history of Caracalla, he was a dick.  Don't believe me?  Just ask his brother, Geta, with whom he co-ruled the Empire after their father, Septimius Severus Snape died.  That is, until Caracalla had Geta murdered in 211.

Caracalla was born on April 4, 188, in Lugdunum (which we call "Lyon" nowadays) and was saddled with the name Lucius Septimius Bassianus.  There we go with the names ending in "-anus" once again.  Understandably, ol' Low Asshole (rough translation) changed his name to Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Caesar to better connect with former, greater emperors, Marcus Aurelius and a couple of the Caesars.

The name Caracalla?  Oh, I'm glad you asked.  He earned it because he went everywhere wearing a cloak with a hood.  It was a bit of local fashion among the Gauls, and when Caracalla became Emperor, the fashion really took off.  Kind of like a Ronald Reagan jelly bean theme or a Bill Clinton saxophone motif. 

Caracalla was a military man, which was important for two reasons:  one, commanding the army (and having their support) went far when trying to stake a claim to the throne in Rome.  Just ask Geta.  You know, if he wasn't murdered by his brother's goons.  The second reason it was important was that it helped him keep the throne after he won it.  It also was nice that his soldiers decided that they would also wear caracallae, thus helping make the garment popular.

Caracalla gave a finger to the traditional look of an Emperor, wearing his hair and beard in traditional short, military fashion.  Also, most of his depictions showed him scowling; Caracalla wasn't going to take your shit.  He was one of the first Emperors who didn't try to beautify his image, and it showed.  Oh boy, did it show.  Diocletian is usually the first name on list of megalomaniacal asshole Emperors, but Caracalla was near the top.  Thousands died in the persecutions under Caracalla, mostly for supporting his brother Geta's claim to the throne.  Or for just pissing him off.

The boys had been sparring on-and-off for years about co-rulership of the Empire, so their mother, Julia Domna, arranged to have her sons get together, sit down, and work things out.  Caracalla did, sort of.  He ordered those members of the Praetorian Guard loyal to him to kill his brother.  Geta ended up dying in Julia Domna's arms.  Classy, Caracalla.  He then ordered the military to slaughter anyone who supported his brother's claim to the throne, pretty much ending all threat to his rule.

Caracalla then claimed that he killed Geta in self-defense, the old "he's coming right at me!" defense.  The people of Alexandria did not quite believe the Emperor, and thus produced a satirical play about the subject.  Caracalla, who didn't have time for your shit, was unamused and, when 20,000 citizens of Alexandria came out to welcome him to the city, Caracalla had them slaughtered.

For all that, Caracalla also did some good things.  His big thing, the thing that he might best be remembered for, the thing that almost absolves him of the boorish dickishness was known as the Edict of Caracalla.  In it, he extended the rights of citizenship to every free man and woman (this was a big deal) in the Empire.  Previously, citizenship had been granted only to those who lived in Rome and was extended out to cover the Italian peninsula.  Caracalla thumbed his nose once more at tradition and extended citizenship to anyone living within the borders of the Roman Empire.

Caracalla is also known for construction of one of the last major public works in Rome:  the Baths of Caracalla.  Covering a sprawling 33 acres, the baths were one of the few to also include a public library with rooms for reading in both Greek and Latin; two palaestrae or gyms for practicing boxing and wrestling; a row of shops; a dedicated swimming pool open to the sky and featuring bronze mirrors to warm the water; and several large gardens for bathers to stroll in after they finished splashing about in the heated waters of the baths.  It was all open to the public; an estimated 1600 bathers could be accommodated at one time at the Baths.

Though this might seem like an exceedingly generous thing to do, it was one of the ways that Caracalla kept his enemies at bay.  He taxed the rich families heavily in order to provide for these public works.  After killing Geta, Caracalla took the army and began moving around the northern and eastern provinces of the Empire, demanding more money from the rich families to support his army's movements.  He also levied heavy taxes in order to pay for meaningless temples, palaces, baths and other such constructs in these outlying provinces.

However, the Baths were his most famous and lasting works.  They are still a popular tourist attraction in Rome today, and there is written evidence that the Baths were used well into the 19th century in Rome, though they had to be rebuilt a few times thanks to the ravages of time, earthquakes and the odd band of savages moving through the area.

Seems fitting that we should honor Caracalla with today's Latin phrase:

Balineo utimur!
Pronounced:  "Ba-lynn-aye-oh oo-tee-myur!"

Um...yeah.  Hovertext.

I mentioned April being a big month for Caracalla.  Well, the always-friendly and terribly-tactful Caracalla had been offered a marriage proposal with a Parthian bride that would bring about peace between Rome and neighboring Parthia.  In true Caracalla fashion, he went through with the sham of a wedding and then had the bride and all the guests put to death. 

Damn.  Red Wedding, anyone?

The Parthians, none too pleased about this, threatened and then attacked Roman lands and so continued the Parthian War of Caracalla.  Satisfied with his handiwork, Caracalla mustered his soldiers and headed east, hellbent on finishing off the Parthian threat once and for all.  Many had thought or hoped that Caracalla's daddy, Septimius Severus Snape had ended the Parthian threat, but it turned out only he could keep the Parthians at bay.

On April 8, 217, while on the way toward the enemy capitol of Ctesiphon, Caracalla called a halt to the march and headed off to the side of the road to toss a whiz.  A man named Julius Martialis, pissed because Caracalla had killed his brother, went Inigo Montoya on the Emperor and killed him with a single sword-stroke while the Emperor was pissing.  There's a good chance that Caracalla died with his dick in his hand, the attack was so fast and so decisive.  The assassin was then shot through with an arrow ending his fifteen minutes of fame right then and there.

Conveniently, the chief of Caracalla's Praetorians was a man named Macrinius who, amazingly, succeeded Caracalla as Emperor.  Macrinius was Emperor for about a year before he, too, was assassinated.  No word on where his dick was when he died.

Friday Morning Latin Lesson, Vol. CIV

August 23rd was not a good day in the history of the Roman Empire.

In a positive light, August 23rd was the day the Romans celebrated Vulcanalia, which honored the God Vulcan (associated with Hephaestus in Greek) because late August was the height of the hot and dry season.  Ask someone in the American west about fire risk or in the American Midwest about drought and you can understand why the Romans associated August with a deity who worked a forge and was generally symbolized by fire.  Though Vulcan was associated with Hephaestus, he was more of a fire god and was generally invoked--especially during this time of year--to prevent destructive fires from ruining crops, destroying forests and ravaging cities.

In the year 476, Rome was failing horribly.  On the throne was a sixteen-year-old boy who had been propped up by his father and seated as Emperor, an ineffectual lad named Romulus Augustulus (or just Romulus Augustus).  You might notice that his name is awfully precious:  Romulus being the twin brother who beat Remus over the head with a shovel and staked his claim as "founder" of Rome and Augustus (Augustulus means "least Augustus") being the first Emperor of Rome.  This kid was fated to do great things with a name like that!

Except, no.  Rome had already split at the time into East and West, the East thriving rather well in Byzantium/Constantinople/Istanbul.  The West had already seen the Franks, Vandals and various Goths sweep through and carve up large chunks of its territory for their petty kingdoms (all of this because they were running from the terror of the Huns, which forced all of the other "germanic" peoples west).  By the time Little Romulus' pappy had rebelled against the "rightful" western emperor--a bloke named Julius Nepos who fled to the East to save his skin--the Western Empire was in tatters.

Nepos was considered the proper Emperor by the rulers of the East--generals Zeno and Basiliscus who were fighting for the Eastern throne--but that didn't phase Little Romulus nor his father, Orestes.  However, neither Zeno nor Basiliscus were willing to commit any resources to ousting Romulus since they were busy fighting each other.  This left Nepos with no army to support his claim, and in Rome, when you had no army backing you, you really had no power.

Which is why the head of the foederati (soldiers who were not Roman citizens but who fought for Rome) decided to make his move.  Odoacer was a clever man and, seeing that the Eastern troops were busy, moved against the callow youth sitting on the Western throne.  His troops moved down into Italy and, as they began to capture more territory and exert more influence on the locals, his soldiers declared Odoacer Rex Italiae on August 23rd, 476.  This essentially sapped all of Romulus Augustulus' power as he no longer had the backing of any army, plus his now chief political rival did have troops willing to fight and die for him.

As the King of Italy, Odoacer moved to unite the disjointed bands of tribes living on the peninsula and, as a sign of his newfound power, began laying siege to the city of Ravenna.  Rome the city had been abandoned for some time by the rulers, who in stead had set up shop in Ravenna.  When the city fell, Romulus Augustulus was captured and the ruling power in the West all but collapsed.

At this same time Zeno was wrapping up conquest of the East.  After having fought a civil war in order to be named Emperor, Zeno was loathe to send troops into the West, especially not the save the hide of a child whom he did not particularly like, anyway.  With no army and no aid coming, Romulus Augustulus had no choice but to give up.

He did have one thing going for him:  youth and beauty.  Odoacer felt something akin to sorrow for the lad and must have liked his spunk enough because, rather than simply beheading him and being done with the whole ordeal, Odoacer allowed Romulus Augustulus to abdicate the throne.  As he did so, Romulus named Odoacer King of Italy.  Ever the polite politician, Odoacer allowed Romulus Augustulus to retire to the countryside with a hefty pension where Romulus Augustulus sort of...disappeared.  It's assumed that he lived at least another twenty five years or so since his name pops up on a legal document sometime around 500, but generally nothing else is ever heard from him since.  Hell, he could still be kicking around the hills of Campania for all we know.

The other thing that popped up on August 23rd--and this one is almost too coincidental to be anything other than ironic--is that Mount Vesuvius began its earthly rumbling and grumbling on August 23rd, 79 AD.  The people of Rome, who were in the midst of celebrating Vulcanalia to appease the god Vulcan who lived in a volcano (feel free to draw the connecting dots there) thought that Vulcan either wanted more lusty celebrations in his name or that he had decided to get in on the act himself.

And party hardy he did, too.  A day later, August 24th, 79 AD, Vesuvius erupted, destroying Pompeii and Herculaneum as it did so.  Noble, fat Pliny the Elder watched the whole thing and then died while trying to save people from the eruption.  If you want more story on that, feel free to read about it here.

I can't help but think that, during the orgy of wine and ass-sex that would have gone on in the depths of Vulcanalia, the forbidding orange glow of the volcano lighting the night, someone would have had some misgivings about the fiery mountain rumbling away in the background.  Pompeii was, at the time, the Roman equivalent of Las Vegas:  a place for the rich to go to fuck and party it up without guilt.  The brothels of Pompeii were some of the best-known in the Empire, and Pompeii was also one of the chief ports for the Italian peninsula, bringing in drink, whores and other narcotics from around the known world.  Despite all this, you'd think that someone would have looked up while they were plowing one of the choicest lupae (the Romans had lots of words for whore; "she-wolf" was one of them), seen the ominous fires of Vesuvius and thought to themselves, "that isn't right."

Or perhaps they'd turn to her and ask:

Sicut calidum est, neque hic est?

Pronounced:  "See-coot cah-lee-doom est, nay-kway hic est?"

Extremely hot translation in the hovertext

Fortunately for us in this part of the country, things haven't been as hot as it has been over the other parts of the summer.  In fact, they are forecasting that the Carolinas will be colder and snowier (dare to dream, fellaz) over the coming months.  I'm giddy with anticipation.  

Not so for other parts of the country, including the rain-starved midwest and the western regions which are mostly ablaze.  Take heart in one thing, friends, at least it's a dry heat.

Friday Morning Latin Lesson, Vol CIII

We've celebrated a lot of things around here on Fridays.  For instance, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, various and sundry minor Roman holidays.  Lief Ericson Day.  Even the Ides of March.  Plus various birthdays:  mine, Hugh Hefner's and Elvis.  I think we should combine a couple of special days and throw them all together here.  What say you?  Good.  Let's go.

Today is Friday, of course, but it's also Friday the Thirteenth!  Gasp and swoon.  It's also July 13th.  The significance?  Traditionally, it's been accepted that July 13th was the birth date of one Gaius Iulius Caesar, that wee little man that brought most of the world around the Mediterranean into Roman control.

Let's start with the dispelling of rumors, shall we?

Caesar was not cut from his mother's womb.  Gaius was a popular Roman name and Iulius was his family's name, tracing their ancestry back to Aeneas (one of the founders of Rome) who was the son of Venus.  Handsome.  The name "Caesar" reflects, maybe, one of his ancestors being born by caesarean, but it could also refer to the thick head of hair that the babies were born with, their blue-grey eyes or maybe that someone down the line had slain an elephant in battle.  For reference, Julius' father was named Gaius Julius Caesar (the Elder) and his father was named Gaius Julius Caesar (the really elder), so the Caesar part had been around the family for a long time.

Ceasar also did not utter his famous words "vini, vidi, vici" upon conquest of the Gauls.  The area around the Black Sea, a place known in Roman times as "Pontus", had been a troubling spot for a while.  Previously, a man named Mithridates (read about him here) had vexed Roman dictator Pompey, who also happened to be one of Caesar's main political enemies.  It took a while for Pompey to deal with Mithridates--he was really charismatic, ambitious, owned a brilliant strategic mind, and was fucking insanely paranoid--so when Caesar arrived to put down a different rebellion, he did not mess around.  Pretty much as soon as Caesar arrived in Pontus from Egypt--where he was diddling a certain Egyptian woman--the uprising was over.  Caesar's report of "I came, I saw, I was victorious" was mostly a school yard taunt at Pompey's inability to take care of that shit effectively.

Lastly, Caesar was not the first Emperor.  At least not this Caesar.  That would be his nephew and adopted heir, Octavian who later became Augustus Caesar (and who is not a very good leader in Civilization IV, at least not in the early part where you have to fight everyone to survive).  He did set himself up to be Dictator for Life, however.  Despite the Republic still chugging along, whenever there was a crisis, political and military leaders could set aside the rule of the Senate and make themselves the Dictator, who then guided the Roman people/lands/government/military through whatever terrible thing was happening.

One interesting thing was that, after his conquest of Gaul, Caesar became more popular with the soldiers he commanded than with the rulers of the Senate--for good reason:  he was powerful and powerfully charismatic, but even better, he had the backing of one of the best fighting forces on Earth.  Caesar was warned to leave his army in the field and return to Rome.  Instead, he crossed the Rubicon (a river demarcating the boundaries of Italy at the time) with a single legion, and Civil War erupted.  When Caesar emerged victorious, he then declared that he was Dictator for Life...which he was, until March 15th, 44 BC.  That's, of course, the date when Brutus, Cassius and company decided they would try to re-establish the rule of the Republic by ending Caesar.  Unfortunately for their plans, they sparked a series of Civil Wars in which Augustus emerged as the winner and was then seated upon the throne as the first emperor.

Now, here's an interesting notion.  It's been kicked around for a while that Caesar's death on the floor of the theatre of the Curia of Pompey was not as clear cut as some would have us think.  Several people, who were not part of the conspiracy to kill Caesar, were aware of the plot, including Marcus Antonius (not the singer) who was one of Caesar's triumvirate (rule by three men).  Anthony then tried to warn Caesar, but Julius sort of...ignored him.  Caesar then went into the place where the Senate was meeting and was stabbed those infamous 23 times (though only one was deep enough to kill him).

Apparently, Caesar's health was beginning to fail--and he knew it.  While his body was beginning to decline, his mind was not; he knew that, if he were to seat himself upon a throne, he would not last long, either by being too weak to control the power or by being too sick to survive.  With that in mind, he willingly walked into the place where the Senate was meeting, knowing that he was about to be murdered.  This would go along with the notion that Caesar did not fight back much and so willingly gave up when he saw Brutus among the conspirators/assassins.

That all makes for a rather grim story to tell, especially on someone's birthday.  In lieu of the grisly--albeit, potentially altruistic--outcome, let's just get to the Latin translation, shall we?

Dies meus natalis est.  Iacite mihi dona.

Pronounced "Dee-ace may-oose nah-tah-leese est.  Ee-yah-kee-tay mee-hee doh-nah."

View the hovertext for the translation presently.

Et non obliviscere femellas.

Pronounced:  "Et noan oh-blee-wee-scare-aye fay-may-lahs.

Youthful translation in the hovertext.

As with most historical figures (for reference, see Christ, Jesus), there is some debate as to when the actual date of Caesar's birth was.  July 13th has been the traditional date for, well, a really long time.  We know that he was born somewhere near the middle of the month of July--hence the name of the month.  His heir, Augustus, gave us the name for "August".  Clever, no?  Despite there being debate and some confusion as to the date of Caesar's birth, we'll go ahead and recognize the 13th as his birthday.  If April 23rd can still be Shakespeare's birthday, then the 13th of July can belong to Caesar!

A note on the translation (aside from the caveat that I'm still learning and might not have the word order and the declensions perfectly correct...I couldn't decide on whether we should "shower him with presents" or "shower the presents upon him"), I used the term femella for "women".  It is, roughly, the word that the Romans would use for young women, as opposed to puella, which means girl, or femina which means "wife" or "woman".  I figured Caesar was probably a lech and would have approved of the younger stock.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day...Again.

Yeah, yeah, I'll get to that soon enough.

But, here, today, right fucking now, it's Saint Patrick's Day! And, in case you missed the other parts of the series, here they are in reverse order? Why? Fuck Clemson, that's why.

Part the Third
Part the Second
Part the First

Patrick kind of got things rolling around here with my modern, tangentally historical interpretations of the hagiography, so at this point it's kind of a let-down if I don't talk about him on Saint Patrick's Day. Right? Right. Let's start drinking.

At this point, though, I've pretty much tired out the legend of Saint Patrick. With that in mind, I'll try and touch on other things linked to Saint Patrick. He was probably the first missionary for the Christian world, bringing the Word of God and Teachings of Christ to the illiterate savages on the edge of the world. That last part is a fancy way of saying "Ireland".

Patrick's work in Ireland was pretty amazing. The Irish went from a people who had very little in the way of what we would think of as civilization: they didn't write many things down, they didn't have vast, sprawling cities, they painted their bodies and were savagely fierce fighters. About the only thing that they did have that we consider "civilized" was an oral language (they were fantastic story tellers) and an organized religion. As luck would have it, three happened to be a rather sacred number in the Celtic religions of the island. A lot of the gods came in threes, or had three aspects or faces. And if this sounds mildly familiar to you, imagine how the Trinity sounded to the Irish.

The Irish are also inexorably linked in with Celtic civilization, and the large numbers of Irish immigrants who showed up in Boston is probably why the Celtics play basketball there. However, the Celts did not originate in Ireland. Their culture came from the middle of Europe, around the areas of southern Germany, Austria, northern Italy and Switzerland. They spread out from there, and they adopted various different names that were somewhat linked. The Greeks called them Keltoi, and had various run-ins with them as they moved down the Balkan peninsula and on into Turkey into an area known as Galatia. Paul's letter to the Galatians is an epistle aimed at the descendants of these Celts.

The Celts also descended into Italy, where they attacked Rome in 353 BC, sacking it and nearly bringing an end to Roman civilization and dominance in the area. However, as I mentioned above, the Celts were a nomadic people by nature and so they didn't stay in Italy long. They eventually moved out and inhabited an area known as Gaul. Of course, Old Blue Eyes, Julius Caesar, exacted revenge for the sacking of Rome when he conquered and subsequently divided Gaul into three parts. Granted, it wasn't revenge that drove JC, but a desire to get some of the better wine-growing lands around the northern Mediterranean.

The Celts also descended into the Iberian peninsula and set up shop in Galicia in Northern Spain and spread out into Lusitania, as well. Lusitania incorporates a lot of central Spain and Portugal. Again, the Romans conquered this area around the time of the Punic Wars and brought them under the umbrella of Republican Rule. This wasn't because of any sort of desire to exact retribution on the people, but more a desire to get their lands and keep out any Carthaginian influence.

Finally, some of the Celts moved on to the islands of Great Britain and Ireland. Once more, Trajan brought the Roman rule to Britannia, chasing the Gauls into Wales and back across the Irish Sea to Ireland. Ireland's position as being at the very edge of the world (in Euro-centric histories) was perfect for the last vestiges of the free Celtic peoples: it was flat, had many navigable rivers, and the weather was pretty mild, as well. The Romans tried, but never could conquer the Emerald Isle, partially because there was no where else for the Celts to flee to so they were forced to savagely defend themselves, and partially because it was so fucking far from Rome.


However, enter in a young slave, a Roman citizen by birth, who was captured from the western coast of Britannia about the time that Rome was exiting the area and who fell in love with these people who captured him. He escaped, made it back to Rome where he converted to Christianity, and then set out to spread the Word of Christ. Being that he loved the Irish people so much, he returned and taught them how to read and write, showed them the three faces of God by allegedly using one of their sacred native plants, and spread Christianity across their island. His name was Patricius.

And, in a way, the Romans finally conquered the last of the Celtic peoples.

Happy St. Valentine's Day!

Today is St. Valentine's Day, who is a saint who may or may not have actually existed, and if he did exist, he could have been one of fourteen different men. We're not even sure if we're celebrating the one guy or everyone named Valentine (a popular name at the time because valens is Latin for "strong, worthy, powerful"). Traditionally, it is said that Valentine was martyred because he would not deny Christ before emperor Claudius II (not to be confused with Cl-cl-claudius, Caligula's uncle and the fourth Roman emperor). Tradition states that Valentine was beheaded on February 14th, 269 AD.

There is a problem here, though. Claudius II (or Claudius Gothica) has no record of being a great persecutor of Christians. In fact, the rulers prior to Claudius Gothica had been rather tolerant of the Christians; it wouldn't be until Diocletian took control of the empire that Christians would be ostracized and summarily persecuted (about twenty years after Claudius Gothica). Now, most people think that the feats of "St. Valentine" were completely invented by Geoffry Chaucer. There are others who cling to the notion that the Catholic church had to create a holiday to offset the Roman Lupercalia, which was a springtime fertility celebration. You know how those Romans liked a good...or bad...holiday. Or at least you should by now.

Speaking of Romans, let's talk about one of their gods! Cupid is inexorably linked with Valentine's Day (which is kind of funny, if you think about it) as being the bearer of bad news love. Cupid, of course, is the Roman God of love, desire, and lust, and he is the son of Venus (the goddess of love) and Mars (the god of war). Never mind that Venus was married to Vulcan. Oh, those saucy immortals!

Cupid is often--and mostly erroneously--associated with Eros, who was an embodiment of the power of love and sprang forth from the primordial ick known as Chaos. Hesiod, the other Greek poet, tried to backtrack and make Eros a son of Ares and Aphrodite, which would line up with the Romans (he did this prior to Roman influence). Cupid's name comes from the Latin cupido, which means "desire" or "lust" whereas Eros simply means "sexual love" in Greek. Eros, however, gives us the words "erotic" and related terms.

Cupid himself did not make it into too many of the ancient epics. He appears briefly in the Aeneid, wherein he causes Dido some added torment before she sets herself on fire (spoiler alert). The most famous myth in which Cupid appears is Cupid and Psyche. He was, however, widely worshiped as a fertility god and a god of sexuality, which sort of lends a certain delicious irony to him being associated with a Christian feast.

The depiction of him carrying a bow and arrow goes back to ancient times. His arrows, at one point, were only used to incite lustful feelings within one or more people. Eventually, he started carrying two quivers: one filled with golden-headed arrows for the love-making; the other was filled with lead-tipped darts and were used to cause war. This could be another reason why Hesiod rewrote Eros' parentage, so that he had both the power to cause love and to cause war, like his immortal parents. Despite this, he was not considered one of the fifteen twelve Olympian gods.

Of course, these days, if something is fun or "too mainstream", some assholes have to come along and try to ruin it for everyone else. Enter AntiCupid, who I can only assume is blue and needs to be trapped away in a special holding field. AntiCupid is the brainchild of all those people who feel spurned or unloved on Valentine's day. All failed relationships and dating problems are AntiCupid's fault, because, you know, it's not you, loser, it's clearly the work of some nefarious godling. AntiCupid's arrows lead to hours of whiny music, cutting and a predilection toward wearing black clothing. His Greek counterpart is "Emos".

Claudius Gothica would be proud.

Friday Morning Latin Lesson, Vol. LXXXIX

Salvete, amici!

For the past three Fridays, I've delved into some historical Halloween-related topics as they appeared in Roman myth and legend, starting with witches (strigae) and moving to ghosts (larvae and lemures) and ending with vampires (striges). As I alluded to last Friday, I was going to weave them together in some fashion; that was the story that I posted over the past four days.

And, wow, what a rush that was. I conceived of the story about two weeks ago and I quickly went through and plotted it out in that I saw the four breaks in the tale that I could make in order to post on four different days. I did, honestly, try to write some material ahead of time, but I still ended up starting the fourth part of the story on Wednesday night and writing furiously throughout the evening in order to get it finished in time for Thursday morning.

The titles of the chapters were all in Latin and I tried for obvious words that I've already used here in various translations over the past 88 lessons (damn, really?). Anyway, they were victoria (victory), senex (the old man), striga (witch) and veniunt (they come, they do come, they are coming).

Again, thanks much for the compliments; if my ego could swell any further, I promise you it would.

I thought I would go through and cap off the theme here in October with as quick a post as I can muster (research has already been done, largely) before I crawl exhaustedly into bed and prod and fondle my wife's backside fall into a blissful, accomplished sleep.

Dacia was, by and large, in the area where modern-day Romania is located. Some of it overlapped our modern borders into Serbia and Slovakia, but it was mostly in Romania. Dacia itself had long been a coveted piece of land by the Romans, dating back to the time of Julius Caesar. He, however, could not finish the conquest of the Dacians, and so the kingdom remained free and independent for the next two hundred years or so.

The Emperor Domitian tried to conquer Dacia, but failed miserably, and ended up signing a treaty with the Dacians--led by a man named Decebalus--which pretty much made Rome look like a bunch of pansies. The Romans paid reparations to the Dacians, and then also sent military leaders, teachers and slaves into Dacia to teach the Dacian army tactics, teach the Dacian nobility the knowledge garnered in the empire, and to work for the Dacian ruling class. None of this sat well with the Romans.

Domitian eventually died and was replaced by a man named Nerva, who was even less liked than Domitian, especially by the army. Fearing a revolt, Nerva quickly named a young military commander named Traianus as his adoptive successor. Trajan, as we know him, was wildly popular with the military units, and when Nerva stepped aside, Trajan took his place without bloodshed.

He immediately wiped his ass with Domitian's treaty and sent soldiers into Dacia. Around 100 AD, the first forays into Dacian territory were made and by 106 Decebalus was dead (by his own sword), the capital city of Sarmizegetsua was razed, and Dacia was Roman. Colonists moved in, Latin spread throughout the region and Dacia was thoroughly integrated into the Empire. This held up for about 150 years, but then the Huns and the Visigoths began "pressing their influence in the region" and Roman influence in Dacia was lost.

The main reason for Rome's desire to conquer Dacia--aside from pride--was that Dacia held rich mines of gold, silver and salt. These were especially plentiful in a region we today call Transylvania. Transylvania, of course, is a Latin term meaning "on the other side of the forest" and was first named Ultra-sylvanam...which essentially means the same thing. Trans- is just a little nicer looking.

Transylvania, of course, was the home to one Vlad Dracul, who was a Wallachian Prince hellbent on exacting revenge upon those who had murdered his father. Vlad started out as a puppet ruler used to keep the Magyars away from the Ottoman Empire, but soon Vlad was a bit out of control, impaling anyone and everyone who crossed him. Vlad's last name is derived from the Latin word for dragon, draco, but in Slavic languages it means "Devil". His title "Tepes" (pronounced, if I remember correctly, "Seppesh"...one of my best friends in high school was the son of the leading Western scholar on Romanian history...not that I'm bragging or anything) means "impaler prince".

Vlad Dracul was the model (allegedly) for Bram Stoker's Dracula, and ever since then Transylvania has been connected with the sinister, the dark and creepy, and especially vampire lore.

But, it's Halloween weekend, and I'm sure there's parties to be attended and costumes to be...admired. Yes, we'll go with that. Here's something that might be useful if you come across a particularly...interesting...outfit.

Totum dependeat!
Pronounced: "Toh-toom day-pen-day-aht!"


Dangly translation in the hovertext!

However, if you're given the correct opportunity this weekend, seize it! Seize it immediately! Seize it, and use this slightly different take on an old classic:

Vidi, vici, veni!
Pronounced: "Wee-dee, wee-kee, way-nee!"


It's good to be the king...

One final little note: This has to do with Roman names. Typically, Romans had three names: the praenomen, the nomen and the cognomen. Your praenomen was the name your parents gave you when you came down the chute. Your nomen was the name of your family or clan. The cognomen was a bit like a nickname, usually something that described a trait of yours. If you were really special, you would pick up extra cognomina; Trajan had two. Most of the time, we refer to historic Romans by their cognomina, e.g. Caesar, Augustus, Trajan.

The narrator and main character of my story's name was Gaius Flavius Licinus. Gaius was a very popular praenomen in Roman times; Caesar's praenomen was Gaius (pronounced "Guy-us"). Flavius was a historic nomen whose meaning was "blond", and Licinus is a cognomen meaning "spiky haired". I liked how the names flowed together, and I certainly don't know of any spiky-haired blond guys famous for carrying swords. If you do, feel free to clue me in...

Have a good weekend, my friends, and a Happy Halloween!

Happy Saint Faith Day!!!

Well, I had a really good blog post to put together. I thought of it yesterday afternoon, and then...I forgot it. Completely and totally. It was marvelous; it was another story from my college years. And I completely forgot the fucking tale. I apologize.

In its stead, I shall dip my toes into the hagiography once more.

Today is Saint Faith day, or Sancta Fides day (her Roman name). She was born in Aquitania (check the above map) in the southwest of present day France. Apparently a Christian from a very early age, Fides was rounded up in one of several Christian persecutions seen during the latter stages of the Roman Empire. Though she was arrested and tossed in a dank jail cell, Faith refused to offer up any sacrifices or prayers to the pagan gods of the Roman Empire (which would be pretty much any of the gods of the Roman Empire at the time). Despite her dark cell and her captors torturing her--it is said that she was strapped naked to a glowing red brazier and then beaten--Faith would not relent. She died upon the brazier, sizzling all the way to Heaven.

The date of her death is not exactly known. She either died in the year 287 or 290 anno domini, or she died during the large-scale Christian persecutions under Emperor Diocletian around 303. The time of her death really is irrelevant; the fact that she died is the important thing because she died a martyr, which made her uberpopular with the growing enclaves of Christians spread around--and just outside of--the Empire.

A couple of centuries after she headed for that big side of fries in the skies, her name was attached to several legends. It is said that Saint Faith's miracles were more "jokes" or "tricks" that she played on her adherents. One such tale was that a woman, who often venerated Saint Faith, was dying. Being that she loved her husband and Faith, she pulled her wedding ring from her finger and gave it to her husband to take to Faith's church at Conques (in Southern France). Upon her death, the man pocketed the ring and kept it, eventually giving it to his second wife when he remarried.

Apparently, this didn't sit well with Saint Faith. After trying to murder Angel, she caused the woman's ring finger to swell up and become painful. Eventually, the man and his second wife made it to Faith's shrine, where they were praying to the saint. The woman then decided that she needed to blow her nose, and gave such a powerful honk that the ring flew off her ring finger and "landed with a sharp crack on the pavement at a great distance." With her Precious lost to her, she spent the remainder of her days stalking barefoot midgets, often doing battle with the fat ones.

Faith's remains were transferred to the abbey at Conques (which is pronounced "conk", by the way), and some of them are kept in a golden reliquary therein. Apparently, there is some controversy about the reliquary itself, in that the face appears to be a portrait of an unknown Roman political official--either an unidentified emperor or regional prefect. Others have speculated that it's actually the death-mask of Charlemagne. This is largely due to the fact that the face looks like a dude.

Saint Faith's attributes are the sword, the rod and...the gridiron. Awesome. I know who I'm praying to the next time Notre Dame gets the fumblies...which is to say, this weekend.

Because Conques lies along one of the many branches of the Way of Saint James (perhaps better known as The Camino de Santiago), Faith is the Patron Saint of pilgrims. Because she was incarcerated and died upon the brazier, she is also the Patron Saint of prisoners (makes sense), soldiers (uh...?) and Dairy Queen.

Let's all get a footlong and lift a blizzard up in honor of Saint Faith!

Totally Blowing Shit Up Tuesdays, Vulcanalia!

August 24^th was a busy day in Roman history. In 49 BC, the Second Battle of the Bagradas was fought, in which the Roman forces lost. In 410 AD, the Visigoths started pillaging the city of Rome itself--a festival of plunder and rape that would last for three days.

However, neither of those are why we're here today. Today marks the one thousand, nine hundred and thirty first anniversary of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, which buried the cities of Pompeii, Herculaneum and Stabiae. Of the three, Stabiae suffered the least, while Herculaneum was history's red-headed stepchild in that it was completely forgotten until archaeologists began poking around the site where Pompeii had been and found another city. Research then revealed that the city's name was Herculaneum.

Now, here's a bit of irony for you. Vesuvius went up on August 24^th. August 23^rd was the day set aside on the Roman Calendar to celebrate Vulcan, the Roman god of fire, both beneficial and harmful. He was associated with Haphaestus, the Greek god of fire and smithworking. As such, he is considered a fertility god, because ashes provide fertilizer when worked into the fields. He is also a bit of a war god, because you can use fire to subdue your enemies. Along with all of these, he is a master smith, who keeps his forge beneath Mount Etna.

Apparently, Vulcan was none too pleased with the natives as they celebrated his special day.

As I mentioned before, his festival is the Vulcanalia, which was celebrated on August 23^rd, was an offering up to Vulcan to prevent fire from harming the wheat crops which were nearly ready to harvest at this time of the year. Typically, the late summer was the dry season, so crops of all kinds were especially threatened to be ruined if anything sparked a fire, so it's best to appease the fire god to keep these kinds of things from happening.

Since Vulcan was a fire god, his temples were typically located outside of the cities, so that celebrations for Vulcan would not destroy the entire town. As you might imagine, a lot of the religious rites surrounding Vulcan's worship involved open flames.

And, yes, we derive the word "volcano" from Vulcan's name, since his smithy was underneath Mt. Etna. He was married to Venus, and it was believed that whenever she was unfaithful to Vulcan (which is to say, a lot), he would get pissed and hammer out his frustrations in his forge. Sparks would fly from him work, which would be visible coming out of the top of Mt. Etna. Kind of like this:

Now that's some nature blowing some shit up, my friends.

Mount Etna is located on Sicily. However, Vesuvius is located down the coast of the Italian peninsula from Rome, sort of in the "ankle" region of the boot. The thing about Vesuvius is, it started smoking and billowing ash on Vulcanalia of 79 AD. It wasn't until the next day that it went up, destroying the three cities.

The area around Pompeii and Stabiae was a very popular resort for wealthy Romans, and August was the time when most of the Roman families would have gone south to their villas for vacation. This means thousands of people were killed in the volcano's explosion and eruption that ensued. Famed historian Pliny the Elder (that's pronounced "Plinny") was in the area when Vesuvius erupted. Pliny commanded a fleet of ships, and he decided to take a closer look at the volcano as it erupted, because Pliny was famous for writing about the natural world. This wasn't just a grab for further fame, however, as Pliny did command his ships to sail across the bay to Pompeii and Stabiae in hopes of saving some of the people who were stranded there.

Unfortunately, this was the last thing Pliny would do. Pliny died on August 24th, 79 AD, but we know that his attempts to save people were successful because survivors escaped to tell Pliny's nephew, Pliny (this one being "the Younger"), that the Elder had saved them.

In Pliny's honor, the tall pillar of smoke and ash that spews forth from a volcano is referred to as a "Plinian cloud" and any volcano which does this is said to be undergoing a "Plinian eruption". Something like Krakatoa exploding is referred to as a "super-Plinian eruption". I'll bet he's so happy.

Pompeii and Herculaneum were not rebuilt. Instead, this paved the way for an ancient Greek city, Neapolis ("New City"), which was now under Roman control, to thrive as the major port in the area. It has grown up today to be known as Naples. Naples still sits in the shadow of Vesuvius.

And to add just a bit of doomsday cachet, Vesuvius is not a dormant volcano. In fact, recent seismological studies have shown that the magma chamber beneath the volcano is filling once more. In other words, you might want to put off that trip to Naples for a while, lest you end up like Pliny the Elder...but you'd have to put one about two hundred pounds before that happens.

Friday Morning Latin Lesson, Vol. LXXXII

Being the terrible blogger that I am, I totally forgot to laud some people who saw fit to include my blog on their daily turn about the blogosphere. Apparently, my tale of the encounter with the Checkout Girl and the Deli Hag from last weekend tickled the fancy of the keepers of Hippest Snippets, and they linked me in their Tuesday round-up of all things bloggy. I am humbled, and I thank you for the kind words of praise.

Secondly, this morning...damn. I finally succumbed to the illness that has been clinging to me for days, or maybe it's a new one. I'm not sure. All I know is that I had had enough of chemistry for the day yesterday and so I left, came home and ate some hot dogs, watched an episode of House, and then took a two hour nap.

Awesome.

I'm feeling better...ish...now. So, hopefully I can make it through a full day.

In the past, I've done little snippets on Roman life, Roman history, Roman religious practices, Roman holidays, Roman gods, and Roman law. I even talked about Caesar a little bit, but he's been the only historical figure I've really ever discussed here. So, I thought I might try introducing you to some of Rome's more...colorful...denizens. If nothing else, would-be authors (like myself) can pattern various characters off these guys for whatever reason you may need--and believe me when I refer to them as "characters".

Today, let's learn about Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, more commonly known as Caligula. Caligula earned his nickname when he accompanied his father, Germanicus, on military missions in Germania (see the connection?). Caligula's name means "little boot". Apparently, Caligula was only about two or three when he went off with daddy and the army to fight those unwashed barbarians across the Rhine.

Germanicus was the nephew and the adopted son of the Roman Emperor Tiberius. However, before Germanicus could assume the throne of Rome, he was killed at Antioch in 19 AD. Germanicus's wife and Caligula's mother Agrippina the Elder returned to Rome with her family and had a falling out with Tiberius. In those days, you didn't really have a falling out with the Emperor; instead, you said something he didn't like, and the Emperor killed your family.

So it was with Agrippina. Suddenly, she found all the males in her family dead--except for Caligula, who was fancied by Tiberius. Apparently, Caligula was a great actor and praised the old man for his wisdom and knowledge, which tickled Tiberius' cold, rock-like heart. Eventually, Tiberius named Caligula a co-heir with Tiberius' grandson, Gemellus--who just so happened to be a weak-minded fool.

Finally, Tiberius died at the ripe old age of 77...though he might have been helped along by a friend of Caligula's named Macro. At any rate, Tiberius was a bastard of the first order and was much-hated by the Roman people. Caligula was able to take this and wrest away any claim that Gemellus had for the Emperorship through various Jedi mind tricks and accusations of insanity. Thus, Caligula became emperor.

The people rejoiced. They fucking loved Caligula, partially because they had fucking loved Germanicus, as well. The other main reason why they loved Caligula so much was they fucking hated Tiberius with the white-hot passion of a thousand burning sons--er--suns (pun intended). In fact, when he was ushered into power, the people of Rome threw a party that lasted for three months! That's a lot of vino being put down, my friends.

And...for the first two years of his reign, Caligula was still much-loved. He built some nice public works, improved some key ports, expanded the empire in the western part of Africa, gave raises to the military, and got rid of Tiberius' treason executions. Blah blah blah.

Then...something happened. Around AD 39, Caligula began to lose it. Some people think he was actually insane, some think he had some sort of brain disorder, and some people think that he is the pinnacle of Lord Acton's maxim "Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

It might have been a mixture of any of these, but without a doubt Caligula suddenly turned into "douchius maximus" about two years into his reign. He would be eating dinner with guests when he would stand up, point to someone's wife, and then he'd take her off and fuck her. He'd return to the table and tell the guy--whose wife he just banged--whether she was a good lay or a bad one. And then he'd return to eating.

But it doesn't stop there. Once during some gladitorial games, during halftime, he forced an entire section of the crowd onto the floor of the circus to be eaten by the wild animals that were part of the games "because he was bored". He had a long list of accusations of killing people in cold blood for his own personal amusement. He also started sending the military off on pointless campaigns and missions. He wasted money on creating a pontoon bridge across a stretch of water between the ports of Baiae and Puteoli, simply so he could thumb his nose at a friend of Tiberius' who said that Caligula had as much chance of becoming Emperor as he did of riding across the Bay of Baiae.

On top of that, he really disliked the Jews. Coupled with the megalomaniacy of the Emperors, Caligula wanted a statue of himself erected in the Jewish temple. This guy made a habit of pissing off everyone.

And then, perhaps the greatest story surrounding Caligula. He was so at odds with the Roman Senate that he named his horse, Incitatus (which means "swift") a Senator. This really didn't sit well with the Senators, which only managed to further put the two parties at odds.

Of course, while he's being a bastard and a fuckhole, he upped the ante by fucking his sisters, Agrippina the Younger, Drusilla, and Livilla. That wasn't enough for him. He decided to prostitute them out, as well, mostly because he could. He turned the imperial palace into a brothel, for his delight as well as his friends. However, the incest charges were not unique to when he was Emperor; there's some thought that he was banging Drusilla while they were the wards of their grandmother and various aunts.

Which brings us to today's Latin lesson, which you can almost hear young Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus saying while being caught creeping down the hall...

Quid? Ne scilicet! Mea soror ea est!
Pronounced: "Kwid? Nay skeel-ee-kate! May-uh sore-ore aye-uh est!"


Translation in the hovertext!

I certainly hope that you get the reference I've made here...

Anyway, after fucking, killing and spending his way to the top of the Public Enemy list, the Senate conspired with a guy named Cassius Chaerea to put an end to Caligula's reign of terror. On the morning of January 24th, 41 AD, Chaerea and some of his cohorts found Caligula in an underground passage beneath the palace. Chaerea stabbed him. In a sort of poetic symmetry, Caligula was stabbed 30 times by a man named Cassius; Julius Caesar was also stabbed 30 times by a group of conspirators led by a man named Cassius.

Not satisfied with purging the Empire of Caligula, the assassins also killed Caligula's wife, Caesonia, and dashed the daughter of Caligula and Caesonia brains out on the walls. However, before they could find Caligula's uncle, Claudius, he had escaped and was being protected by the Praetorian guards.

The Senate, at this point, tried to wrest the power in the Empire back to themselves, hoping to restore the Roman Republic. This was not to be, however, because the military and the Praetorians rallied around Claudius, who became the fourth Roman Emperor. Claudius hunted down Chaerea and his co-conspirators and slaughtered them ruthlessly and told the Senate that he wouldn't be having any of that Republic bullshit.

Claudius went on to be a pretty good Emperor...but that's a story for another day.

Hopefully you enjoyed this little history lesson. Just remember, college football starts in two weekends...unless you're a Notre Dame fan, and then you have to wait another three achingly long weeks...

Oh, and that's Juliet Landau, who played Drusilla on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Well, a Happy Odin's Day to You, Too!

Last week, the trailer for the Thor movie was released in the wake of San Diego Comic Con. Since I don't have enough money to even hire hookers, much less pay someone to dispose of their bodies, I couldn't attend Comic Con. Therefore I had to wait and download the trailer online.

Now, I'll say that I've never really followed the Mighty Thor in comic book form because...well...Marvel's vision of the Norse pantheon and my vision of the Norse pantheon don't exactly jive. However, I was never a big fan of Iron Man, either, but the movies have been good (I say that having only seen one), so I thought I'd at least give Thor a try. Plus, it's being made by Kenneth Branagh, who is probably the first in a line of man-crushes for me. Dead Again is one of my favorite movies, and not just because one of the characters is named Roman.

See? Yeah, that's kind of a joke toward me. Get it? Fine.

Anyway, while perusing various blogs and other sites where the clip could be found, I saw a lot of...um...less than aware people...who were complaining about Sir Anthony Hopkins' "pirate eye patch". In case you're unaware, Hopkins is playing Odin in the movie.

I'm not going to critique the trailer. It looks pretty, I'll go see it for no other reason than it's a Kenneth Branagh film and because Natalie Portman is in it. Clothed, but what can you do? And Australian Christopher Hemsworth looks like a fucking Viking god...which is appropriate, since he's playing Thor.

I did this for Athena a few months ago, which was received rather well, so I thought I'd give you a quick primer on Odin, and maybe explain why he's wearing a pirate's eye patch.

Odin is, of course, the chief of the Norse Pantheon, and head of the family known as the Aesir (which I think means "the older ones", roughtly). He is married to Frigg (or Frigga), but like some other naughty gods (Zeus, Poseidon), he had a bit of a wandering eye. He is credited with fathering Baldur and Hod with Frigga, and then Thor, Vali and Vidar with other various supernatural beings. Hermod is either a son of Odin or a servant, but is sometimes referred to as a brother of Baldur, which would make him another son of Odin. There's also a mortal hero named Hermod, who may or may not be one of Odin's offspring. He is also tied to fathering several heads of noble and royal lines across the Scandinavian and Germanic countryside. Take note: Odin was not the father of Loki.

Thanks to all this, Odin was known as the "All Father". This is not to say that he was the creator of the Earth (or Midgard, as the Norse termed it), but that he was prodigious in producing bastard sons to rule houses in the Nordic lands. He is also the father of the runic language, which he learned when he sacrificed himself to himself (a sacrifice made to the highest god, which was Odin) on the trunk of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. There the magic runes as well as magic songs were revealed to him.

Not satisfied in simply knowing some magic spells and some magic letters, Odin went to Mimir's well, the Well of Knowledge, in order to learn everything he could. Mimir wouldn't give up his secrets willingly, though, so Odin had to sacrifice something to the well. He chose his right eye. Plucking it out, he threw it in the waters and then drank from them, learning of the fates of the gods and the world. This, coupled with the Yggdrasil experience, made him associated with knowledge, and thus he became a wisdom god.

Knowing that the world would end with Ragnarok, Odin set about wandering the world. He also established the notion of the Einherjar, which are the spirits of warriors who died in glorious battle. The Valkyrie took the dead spirits to Odin's feast hall of Valhalla, where they would train during the day and get drucking funk during the night, all in preparation for the final battle. For this, Odin became known as a war god as well a god of death and dead souls. To bring this full circle, Odin was also the Father of Victory, for if you were victorious in battle, Odin surely chose your side to win.

In Germany, he was known as Wotan, and while the Germans were trading with the Romans (I couldn't leave them out of this, right?) they learned about the names of the days of the week from the Roman traders. The Romans called their day in the middle of the week "Mercury's Day." Mercury was a psychopomp--a leader of souls into the afterlife--which is also what Odin did. Since the Germans didn't worship Mercury, they altered the name to "Wotan's Day", which we now know as "Wednesday" (and that explains the fucked-up spelling for 'Wendsday'). This is why he appears in Neil Gaiman's American Gods as "Mr. Wednesday". Like the Romans, I can't leave him out of the mix, either.

The eye patch is a signature symbol for Odin. He is also associated with his two ravens, Huginn and Muninn (whose names mean "Thought and Memory" respectively), who fly around the world viewing everything. They return every evening to sit on Odin's shoulders and whisper in his ears what they've seen. He has two wolves, Geri and Freki, who flank his throne in Valhalla. He feeds them the food from his plate, since he only consumes mead and wine. He carries a dwarven-made spear named Gugnir and rides an eight-legged steed named Sleipnir into battle. Sleipnir was born of Loki, when Loki turned into a mare in order to fool a frost-giant's horse into running off. Care to guess who Sleipnir's father is?

When not wearing his black-and-gold battle armor (he's a fucking Purdue fan?), he usually wanders the world wearing a drab, gray cloak and a wide-brimmed hat that helps to cover up the eyepatch over his missing right eye. He usually has a long staff with him, as well as a signature white beard. In this guise, he is thought of as a charlatan, a huckster, or a con artist. He's also a bit of a shapeshifter, and as such he assumes the form of an eagle from time to time. He is doomed to die during the events of Ragnarok.

With that in mind, J.R.R. Tolkien formulated the image of Gandalf, whose Elvish name was "Mithrandir", meaning "The Gray Wanderer". Some have also associated Santa Claus as being a modern-day interpretation of Odin. Odin also shows up a lot in the Final Fantasy series of games, usually as a summoned monster/creature. Most of the time, he's riding Sleipnir.

In someone else's current manuscript in progress, the Norse god is only peripherally present. As such, the main characters simply refer to him as "Old One Eye", which is supposed to be a bit of an insult. You know, because a dick is also called "one eye".