Monday, 18 August 2014
ฤฑstihbarat
it happened on the way to the forum: proletariat or body-politic
As no reliable, direct records of Roman history are extant prior to the sacking of the city by the Gauls in 390 BC, politicians and historians had considerable license in constructing the mythology, building prophetic parallels and claim firsts that may or may not have happened exactly in the Romans’ favour.
One example was in the creation of the Republic, which preceded the institution of democracy in Athens by a bald year—with the ousting of the city’s final monarch and the pledge of the populace never again to embrace monarch—and pain of death for any usurper. The democracy practiced among both great civilizations is quite different—with citizenship not a birthright, slavery and suffrage vested in only land-owning males—than contemporary democracies and were quite different in terms of leadership from each other. The composition of the consul evolved many times over the centuries, but in general, candidates were elected by their peers to a term of office of one year—no reelection could be sought for consecutive years and often there was the counter-balance of co-magistrates—each with the power to veto (I forbid) any decision of the other. Because the annual election to select new leaders was also subject to veto and considerable delay, usually a compromise was brokered—lest any politician be accused of hording too much power. No duly selected consul could claim emergency powers or institute martial-law, but such situations of course arose quite often. In order to manage the ship of state during war and invasions, a separate individual was selected—no campaigning—as dictator, given absolute power to prosecute the task he was elected for, and then expected to graciously retire. All dictators of Rome kept good to this oath—until Julius Caesar. Even with this new form of government, a large demographic, the majority of the population, were not free from tyranny, however, as the patrician class excluded the plebeians, the artisans and soldiers, from high office, both secular and religious.
man cave

catagories: ๐ณ๐ด, ๐บ๐ธ, ๐, ๐ฅ, environment
Sunday, 17 August 2014
it happened on the way to the forum: opiate for the masses
After the divine disappearance of Rome's founder and first king, the quite polar-opposite figure of Numa Pompilius was elected as monarch.
Drawing from influences from the Greeks and the Etruscans to the north, Numa created the Roman religion and embellished the panoply with superstition and ritual that were to endure throughout the Roman civilisation. To occupy the standing-army that Romulus had created and to placate the populace, Numa invented a host of obligations and prestigious offices, including that of the the chief priest, Pontifex Maximus (the great bridge-builder, which is a title that the popes of Rome carry to this day), calendar reform and the cults of useful gods, like Terminus, the god of boundaries, and Janus, the two faced deity of war and peace that looked forwards and backwards. Numa's institution were enduring and the following semi-legendary kings of Rome, seven in all, contributed to the Roman ideal and waxed between war and peace, until Lucius Tarquinis Superbus (the Proud) whose abuses caused the citizenry to reject all monarchs and spurred the creation of the republic, though far from democratic in its practices—though kept together in part due to inherited piety.
know thy selfie
everything zen
catagories: ⚕️, ๐ง , networking and blogging
it happened on the way to the forum: regnum romanum
The podcast is dead; long live the podcast. Searching for something to make the long commutes home pass a little quicker—and without the distraction of giving lip-service to learning a new language with those audio-lessons, I rediscovered a cache of podcasts, easy too download and enjoy on the drive on some really engrossing subjects. There are hundreds of episodes (possibly discontinued) available at no cost, which are far from dry lectures, which cover the entire history, from legendary beginnings, the monarchy, the new republic, the imperium and downfall—with lots of exciting cliffhangers and interesting asides. Just at the start of this adventure, I was really impressed with the stories of the early, semi-legendary kings and the highly moralising and indemnifying way the fables had been crafted over the millennia to make a myth of civic-pride and belonging. I really did not know what stories the Romans made for themselves to mark the transition from the sack of Troy to recorded history, but the tale picks up with Prince Aeneas and the other refugees from Troy received as guests by the kingdom of Alba Longa in central Italy, and the king of the Latins weds his daughter to the exiled prince, whose ancestors rule the land for generations.
Familial strife came around when the brother of the rightful king took control of the treasury, including the gold brought from Troy and installed himself as ruler. In order to prevent any heirs from reclaiming the thrown, the uncle had the king's daughter locked away and sworn to celibacy. The gods had other plans, however (and this is really one of the few times that there is divine intervention in the human affairs of Rome), and the god Mars—or according to some sources, the demi-god Hercules—sired twins by the king's daughter. Outraged, the uncle ordered the children drowned in the Tiber by a huntsman—although the river was low at the time and the huntsman was loath to slog through the mud and so just left the twins in a basket. The babies were found by a She-Wolf and a Woodpecker (possibly an ancestor of the twins transformed into a bird for rebuffing the amorous advances of the witch Circe) who took care of them, until a shepherd and his wife found them and raised them as their own. Eventually word of these wonder-twins got back to the wicked uncle and he decided to investigate. Cued into the truth about their birthright, Romulus and Remus, as they were called, defeated the wicked uncle and restored their grandfather to his rightful place. While the could have inherited Alba, the twins wanted to found a new settlement, Romulus opting for the Palatine Hill and Remus for the Aventine. Having learnt the art of augury from Pictus the Woodpecker, they proposed to settle the matter that way.

Saturday, 16 August 2014
unkraut or worldwide weed
Surviving the past three winters or so, exposed on the balcony, is a venerable old dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) that one day took up root in this since vacated pot. Even after the monk and botanist Gregor Mendel developed the theory of heredity by selecting for visible and measurable traits over successive generations of peas in a pod in the mid-1800s, many people still held to the once popular theory of spontaneous generation: that flies and worms and other vermin did not have natural parentage and arose out of the slime and muck and generally poor house-keeping.
I wonder if people believed the same about weeds (Unkrรคuter)—although the concept of weeds in gardening is a relatively new invention and heretofore certainly was not applied to the dandelion. The common and polite name for the flower does not have anything to do with its yellow bloom that some might find reminiscent of a lion's mane, but it is rather a corruption of the French for teeth of the lion, for its jagged leaves. That seems a little less iconic, but the modern name is a euphemism (Greek for “a holy silence”) its old reputation, when still considered Kraut—an herb with medicinal properties, rather than some worthless, old Unkraut. Originally, the plant was called in French pissenlit—wet the bed—because it was a diuretic, and native to all parts of the earth, there were many colourful, local variations on that phenomena. Being the lingua franca, it sought to clean up the world's vocabulary a bit. A similar sort of mannerly substitution occurred in English by inventing the words donkey and rooster to avoid saying something offensive. Tending a few weeds should cause no alarm, no matter the company.