Historic Tales, Vol. 8 (of 15) The Romance of Reality
164 pages
English

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164 pages
English

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pubOne.info present you this wonderfully illustrated edition. Far over the eastern half of Europe extends a vast and mighty plain, spreading thousands of miles to the north and south, to the east and west, in the north a land of forests, in the south and east a region of treeless levels. Here stretches the Black Land, whose deep dark soil is fit for endless harvests; here are the arable steppes, a vast fertile prairie land, and here again the barren steppes, fit only for wandering herds and the tents of nomad shepherds. Across this great plain, in all directions, flow myriads of meandering streams, many of them swelling into noble rivers, whose waters find their outlet in great seas. Over it blow the biting winds of the Arctic zone, chaining its waters in fetters of ice for half the year. On it in summer shine warm suns, in whose enlivening rays life flows full again.

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Publié par
Date de parution 06 novembre 2010
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9782819939238
Langue English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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THE ANCIENT SCYTHIANS.
Far over the eastern half of Europe extends a vastand mighty plain, spreading thousands of miles to the north andsouth, to the east and west, in the north a land of forests, in thesouth and east a region of treeless levels. Here stretches theBlack Land, whose deep dark soil is fit for endless harvests; hereare the arable steppes, a vast fertile prairie land, and here againthe barren steppes, fit only for wandering herds and the tents ofnomad shepherds. Across this great plain, in all directions, flowmyriads of meandering streams, many of them swelling into noblerivers, whose waters find their outlet in great seas. Over it blowthe biting winds of the Arctic zone, chaining its waters in fettersof ice for half the year. On it in summer shine warm suns, in whoseenlivening rays life flows full again.
Such is the land with which we have to deal, Russia,the seeding-place of nations, the home of restless tribes. Here thevast level of Northern Asia spreads like a sea over half of Europe,following the lowlands between the Urals and the Caspian Sea. Overthese broad plains the fierce horsemen of the East long found aneasy pathway to the rich and doomed cities of the West. Russia wasplaying its part in the grand drama of the nations in far-off dayswhen such a land was hardly known to exist.

Have any of my readers ever from a hill-top lookedout over a broad, low-lying meadow-land filled with morning mist, adense white shroud under which everything lay hidden, all life andmovement lost to view? In such a scene, as the mist thins under therays of the rising sun, vague forms at first dimly appear,magnified and monstrous in their outlines, the shadows of a buriedwonderland. Then, as the mist slowly lifts, like a great whitecurtain, living and moving objects appear below, still of strangeoutlines and unnatural dimensions. Finally, as if by the sweep ofan enchanter's wand, the mists vanish, the land lies clear underthe solar rays, and we perceive that these seeming monsters andgiants are but the familiar forms which we know so well, those ofhouses and trees, men and their herds, actively stirring beneathus, clearly revealed as the things of every day.
It is thus that the land of Russia appears to uswhen the mists of prehistoric time first begin to lift. Half-formedfigures appear, rising, vanishing, showing large through the vapor;stirring, interwoven, endlessly coming and going; a phantasmagoriawhich it is impossible more than half to understand. At that earlydate the great Russian plain seems to have been the home ofunnumbered tribes of varied race and origin, made up of mendoubtless full of hopes and aspirations like ourselves, yet whosestory we fail to read on the blurred page of history, andconcerning whom we must rest content with knowing a few of thenames.
Yet progressive civilizations had long existed inthe countries to the south, Egypt and Assyria, Greece and Persia.History was actively being made there, but it had not penetratedthe mist-laden North. The Greeks founded colonies on the northernshores of the Black Sea, but they troubled themselves little aboutthe seething tribes with whom they came there into contact. Theland they called Scythia, and its people Scythians, but the latterwere scarcely known until about 500 B. C. , when Darius, the greatPersian king, crossed the Danube and invaded their country. Hefound life there in abundance, and more warlike activity than herelished, for the fierce nomads drove him and his army in terrorfrom their soil, and only fortune and a bridge of boats saved themfrom perishing.
It was this event that first gave the people of oldRussia a place on the page of history. Herodotus, the charming oldhistorian and story-teller, wrote down for us all he could learnabout them, though what he says has probably as much fancy in it asfact.
We are told that these broad levels were formerlyinhabited by a people called the Cimmerians, who were driven out bythe Scythians and went— it is hard to tell whither. A shadow oftheir name survives in the Crimea, and some believe that they werethe ancestors of the Cymri, the Celts of the West.
The Scythians, who thus came into history like acloud of war, made the god of war their chief deity. The templeswhich they built to this deity were of the simplest, being greatheaps of fagots, which were added to every year as they rotted awayunder the rains. Into the top of the heap was thrust an ancientiron sword as the emblem of the god. To this grim symbol morevictims were sacrificed than to all the other deities; not onlycattle and horses, but prisoners taken in battle, of whom one outof every hundred died to honor the god, their blood being caught invessels and poured on the sword.
A people with a worship like this must have beensavage in grain. To prove their prowess in war they cut off theheads of the slain and carried them to the king. Like the Indiansof the West, they scalped their enemies. These scalps, softened bytreatment, they used as napkins at their meals, and even sewed themtogether to make cloaks. Here was a refinement in barbarityundreamed of by the Indians.
These were not their only savage customs. They drankthe blood of the first enemy killed by them in battle, and at theirhigh feasts used drinking-cups made from the skulls of their foes.When a chief died cruelty was given free vent. The slaves andhorses of the dead chief were slain at his grave, and placedupright like a circle of horsemen around the royal tomb, beingimpaled on sharp timbers to keep them in an upright position.
Tribes with habits like these have no history. Thereis nothing in their careers worth the telling, and no one to tellit if there were. Their origin, manners, and customs may be ofinterest, but not their intertribal quarrels.
Herodotus tells us of others besides the Scythians.There were the Melanchlainai, who dressed only in black; the Neuri,who once a year changed into wolves; the Agathyrei, who tookpleasure in trinkets of gold; the Sauromati, children of theAmazons, or women warriors; the Argippei, bald-headed andsnub-nosed from their birth; the Issedones, who feasted on the deadbodies of their parents; the Arimaspians, a one-eyed race; theGryphons, guardians of great hoards of gold; the Hyperboreans, inwhose land white feathers (snow-flakes? ) fell all the year roundfrom the skies.
Such is the mixture of fact and fable whichHerodotus learned from the traders and travellers of Greece. Weknow nothing of these tribes but the names. Their ancestors mayhave dwelt for thousands of years on the Russian plains; theirdescendants may still make up part of the great Russian people andretain some of their old-time habits and customs; but of theirdoings history takes no account.
The Scythians, who occupied the south of Russia,came into contact with the Greek trading colonies north of theBlack Sea, and gained from them some little veneer of civilization.They aided the Greeks in their commerce, took part in theircaravans to the north and east, and spent some portion of theprofits of their peaceful labor in objects of art made for them byGreek artists.
This we know, for some of these objects still exist.Jewels owned by the ancient Scythians may be seen to-day in Russianmuseums. Chief in importance among these relics are two vases ofwonderful interest kept in the museum of the Hermitage, at St.Petersburg. These are the silver vase of Nicopol and the goldenvase of Kertch, both probably as old as the days of Herodotus.These vases speak with history. On the silver vase we may see thefaces and forms of the ancient Scythians, men with long hair andbeards and large features. They resemble in dress and aspect thepeople who now dwell in the same country, and they are shown in theact of breaking in and bridling their horses, just as theirdescendants do to-day. Progress has had no place on these broadplains. There life stands still.
On the golden vase appear figures who wear pointedcaps and dresses ornamented in the Asiatic fashion, while in theirhands are bows of strange shape. But their features are those ofmen of Aryan descent, and in them we seem to see the far-offprogenitors of the modern Russians.
Herodotus, in his chatty fashion, tells us variousproblematical stories of the Scythians, premising that he does notbelieve them all himself. A tradition with them was that they werethe youngest of all nations, being descended from Targitaus, one ofthe numerous sons of Jove. The three children of Targitaus for atime ruled the land, but their joint rule was changed by a prodigy.There fell from the skies four implements of gold, — a plough, ayoke, a battle-axe, and a drinking-cup. The oldest brother hastenedeagerly to seize this treasure, but it burst into flame at hisapproach. The second then made the attempt, but was in his turndriven back by the scorching flames. But on the approach of theyoungest the flames vanished, the gold grew cool, and he wasenabled to take possession of the heaven-given implements. Hiselders then withdrew from the throne, warned by this sign from thegods, and left him sole ruler. The story proceeds that the royalgold was guarded with the greatest care, yearly sacrifices beingmade in its honor. If its guardian fell asleep in the open airduring the sacrifices he was doomed to die within the year. But asreward for the faithful keeping of his trust he received as muchland as he could ride round on horseback in a day.
The old historian further tells us that the Scythianwarriors invaded the kingdom of Media, which they conquered andheld for twenty-eight years. During this long absence strangeevents were taking place at home. They had held many slaves, whomit was their custom to blind, as they used them only to stir themilk in the great pot in which koumiss, their favorite beverage,was made.
The wives of the absent warriors, after years ofwaiting, gave up all hopes of their return and married the blindslaves; and while the

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