Author: John Royce

Wherein I Observe that Blogging is a Sink -or- Swim Business

Soga-Goro-Gallops-Bareback-Okay, my blogging is a mess. There, I said it. And once you slow down it gets hard to go again …

I think I have the problem of Stephen Leacock’s rider who “flung himself from the room, flung himself upon his horse and rode madly off in all directions.” In posting about horses and history, as well as information about my book trilogy (the supposed reason for this whole enterprise, quiet as it’s kept) I’ve mixed a bowl of porridge.

And it’s going to get worse, I’m afraid. I made the attempt to run separate blogs, which translated into lots of techie fudging about without much writing, and got very bogged down. Bogged in a blog.

So I’m throwing it up into the air: any sense that is to be made of this space in the future will proceed from these thoughts…

a) Horses and human history are inextricably intertwined…

b) Progress in horsemanship mirrors progress in human society…

b) I suspect this is not a coincidence, and I’m curious about it.

Because of my curiosity, I came to write a work exploring horsemanship using factual history wrapped into a fiction adventure story, a trilogy, to which this blog is dedicated.

In between hot news flashes about the books of the trilogy, this blog is subject to the author’s ranging interests on horsemanship and history–neither of which topics are less than vast. I hope people will join me for the ride as I saddle up for the new season; yes I will probably use horse-puns and such. It’s hay-larious! (Okay, I won’t use that many.)

So Welcome, autumn in New England, as well to any fans who’ve met Meagan and Promise and found an intriguing bit of fun and even magic in their literary journey.  Maybe we’ll find some interesting truths in the wind of a gallop and the ancient rhythms of hoofbeats …

The Great Horse “Incitatus”

chariot-racing-coinA new review by Mara Dabrishus of the blog Whitebrook Farm mentions Incitatus, a famed Roman chariot-racing stallion favored by the third Emperor Caligula (24-41 AD) to the point of obsession.

The book passage mentioning Incitatus comes during a visit to the strange library of Mrs. Bridgestone, an eccentric woman who has made a collection of evidence about the “Legend of the Great Horse.”

Meagan was stopped before a crumbling box mounted on a low pedestal. The object was corroded and gray from age.

“It doesn’t look it, I know, but that is said to be the remains of the manger of the Roman Emperor Caligula’s favorite race horse, Incitatus. Caligula had a stable of marble and gold built for the stallion, complete with furnishings and servants. Though horses are strict vegetarians, Incitatus was fed mice dipped in butter and marinated squid.” Mrs. Bridgestone added more quietly, “Of course, the man was considered dangerously insane.” [pg 48, Eclipsed by Shadow (pbk)]

Incitatus was said to have never lost a race, and was showered with gifts and honors by the Supreme Leader of Rome. The stallion was given a stable of marble and a manger of ivory, and is said to have been been fed an extreme diet of delicacies (though he reputedly ate only from his bowl of barley mixed with gold flakes.) Dignitaries were “invited” to dine with Incitatus, whose palatial home was furnished with fine art.

Troops were stationed in the neighborhood of Incitatus‘ marble stables before a race to ensure the stallion’s rest, and the Emperor was said to have conducted a long household debate as to whether to marry the horse to secure his dynasty.  In a final insult to the Senate, Caligula planned to make Incitatus a consul of Rome.

After Caligula’s timely death from assassination, Incitatus was reportedly down-graded to a stall in a regular stable without complaint (and probably much relief). Unfortunately Caligula’s corruption was an omen. Rome was able to rid itself of the megalomaniac leader, but never could return to the citizen government of the Republic and escape the insanity of absolute rule.

Naufragia!

Naufragia was the name Romans gave to crashes during a chariot race, the shocking pileups of man, machine and thrashing horses. Naufragia is the latin word for “shipwreck,” which conjures the shocking destruction and tangled ruin that so dismayed—and ultimately delighted—the screaming spectators of the Circus.

Naufragia-stoneworkNaufragia was ultimate disaster, an end not only to hopes of victory but to lives, careers, destiny. A favorite champion could be undone in an instant—every moment of a chariot race was fraught with potential disaster. The extremes of emotion provoked by collisions and near disasters shocked spectators into wild states of euphoria and despair.

A crash was the ultimate calamity for a chariot, but with the growth of the spectator sport Rome twisted the calamity into attraction. The shock of destruction that punctuated the spectacle drove spectators into frenzy, and became a catharsis for the tensions surrounding the race. Spectators grew addicted to the emotional drama of the Circus, filling their increasingly empty lives with it’s loud distraction as their society declined.

Fate was capricious and all of life was subject to naufragia! Honor, duty, love, courage, all one’s hopes, all effort, all resources—naufragia!—gone in an instant.

Naufragia was the point of distraction. As the lives of ordinary citizens were drained of promise by their darkening Empire—they cheered for naufragia! Deprived of property and rights, they cheered—naufragia! And in the end, distracted, frenzied, caught in its own social dysfunction and spectating madness, Rome itself became the grand metaphor of its own distraction—naufragia!