lycanthrope or heutoscopic

I had always thought that the majority of the corporeal menagerie of beastly creatures could be chalked-up to dull glances and keen imaginations, like witnessing the novelty of horseback riding and constructing the centaur—to be later embellished with a mythological pedigree and literary tradition.
I am learning, however, that chimera—and not just to philosophically quizzical kind from Greek lore (like our old friend, poor sad Cyclopes, whom was just a normal oafish giant until he traded one eye for the ability to see into the future—however, that gift of foresight was limited to being able to see his time of death), often carry a pretty heady cerebral burden as well, which may not have followed too long after or may well be the manifestations our mental-constructs were looking to project.  I had believed that werewolves and were-bears (Beowulf means bee-hunter or rather honey-bear) were frightened hearsay from survivors who had encountered fierce warriors who dressed in animal skins and head-dresses, and while that may be the original inspiration from an outside perspective, there was also something highly ritualistic and complex going on for those who donned and doffed the pelts themselves. Like the game-face of the brutal Achaean fighter Ajax, the ancient Vikings also had a tradition of working themselves into a frenzied rage before going into battle, making themselves berserk.

These possessed Berserkers were named after the bear-shirts that the wore and fought with super-human strength. From the psychological perspective of the Germanic peoples, however, the warrior was not transformed into an animal—at least not in a straightforward manner. These people put stock in the belief of out-of-body experiences and though the human soul, which was taken to be a shadow of its corporeal self—a Doppelgänger, would vacate the body to allow an animal spirit to inhabit it and the displaced human soul popped up somewhere else, usually as one of the relief crew sleeping through the first phase of the skirmish while its Berserker-self was engaged in the fight. Heutoscopy is the clinical term for seeing one’s divided self. It was a very bad omen to encounter one’s own evil twin, and usually the strength was sapped from both.

mad dogs and englishmen

Writing for The Daily Beast, Tom Sykes mourns the loss of the nutty aristocrat, a class gradually being replaced by a dull and drab and socially-conscience set who if not our betters then also not reproving, cautionary cases nor charming eccentrics neither. The article includes many anecdotes and one can delve further into these mostly harmless and often truly obliging and passionate oddities. I enjoyed finding out more about the interview subject of the column, William Sitwell, who definitely has a priceless streak of unconventionality galloping in the family—but has sadly accepted the fate of self-exile as a celebrity judge in television land. As Oscar Wilde once quipped, “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”

interbellum or altı ok

In a new, provocative work, author Stefan Ihrig examines the role the perception that Nazi leadership in post WWI Germany had of Turkey as successor to the Ottoman Empire contributed to the prosecution of WWII.
To some of the defeated and downtrodden Germans, Turkey’s refusal to be passively divided up by the Allies, preoccupation with matters of heritage, and large-scale social reforms must have seemed to burgeoning party like hyper-nationalist “pornography.” Guided by the philosophy of the Six Arrows (Altı Ok) the Young Turks under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created the modern and progressive country and were unrelenting in their efforts. Through the press and propaganda, these heroics and hero-worship that grew around that cult-of-personality created a role-model and for the attempted coup, the Beer Hall Putsch, organisers resolved to adopt so-called “Turkish Methods.” Only after this failure did Nazi leaders ally themselves more towards Benito Mussolini’s form of fascism but still held this figment of Turkey in high regard. This admiration certainly became something unwelcomed and misplaced and a book such as this one ought to spark dialogue and cultivate a more informed readership—through their own research.

iberia-hispania or elegant variation

Although we can identify a classic period of the language and Rome had institutions to preserve and promote a standard, there was probably never a universal Latin spoken across the Empire.
Romance languages descended from Latin but as conquests of Gaul, Iberia and the Balkans came centuries apart, the spoken language that supplanted their native tongues had changed as well. Early on during the Punic Wars as the Empire was expanding across the Mediterranean, Rome secured the lands of Spain from Carthage, and through the discontinuity of the French speakers, Spain remains one of the vulgar languages most true to that original language. Euskara, the language of the Basque people, seems to have developed prior to the arrival of Indo-Europeans and has endured to modern times. The subjugation of the Gallic tribes came later, after Rome had absorbed Greece and Macedonia and incorporated many Greek words, reflected in modern French. Of course, other powers came to dominate these provinces as Rome’s influence waned and these Germanic speakers helped shape the vernacular dialects to a greater or lesser extent. Owing to the Franks, French has inherited a smattering of Germanic loan-words. 
The Visigoths, however, who came to rule the Iberian peninsula, due to extended contact with the Roman civilization, were bilingual in Latin and Gothic, and Latin and its derivative local languages remained in common-parlance for day-to-day activities and native Gothic remained mostly in the background. Exceptions were found in the Church, Gothic having been the first Germanic language to be written down in order to produce that Gothic Bible commissioned by the Arian bishop Ulfilas, until the Roman Catholic Church consolidated authority, and interestingly in family names to this day. Many of the most common surnames of Spain, Portugal and Latin America reflect remnants of Visigoth rule: Hernández from Ferdinand (protector of the peace and probably a title rather than a name originally), Gutiérrez from Walter—wielder of hosts, Rodríguez, son of Roderik, the name of one of the last kings of the Goths before the Muslim incursions into the area and meaning rich in glory.