Ancient Germanic Tattoos and Cannabis Use

Comic book illustration by Kresse (1953)

I am reading the fifth book in the Warrior of Rome series by Harry Sidebottom, called The Wolves of the North. As well as being a novelist, Sidebottom is a Fellow and Tutor in Ancient History at the University of Oxford. His intimacy with ancient history means that he is often able to bring the ancient world to life, and what I have been reading about recently is particularly intriguing. He is describing the Heruli – an ancient Germanic tribe who are depicted as, inter alia, tattooed inhalers of cannabis. How much truth is there likely to be in this portrayal? Well, it seems to be quite feasible. 

Describing the Heruli ("utterly abandoned rascals")

Briefly put, the Heruli were one of a number of Germanic tribes who became a problem for Rome from the 3rd century onwards. Originally from Scandinavia, by the mid 3rd century they were living in the general area of modern day Ukraine. From there they spread themselves in a number of directions, sometimes successfully and sometimes not.

Odin the Fearless

"Winter" by Wyeth (1909)

Most of what we know about Odin, and other Germanic Gods, comes from Icelandic manuscripts written roughly 200 years or more after Iceland formally adopted Christianity (though much of this material appears to copy works written hundreds of years earlier). Perhaps one of best descriptions of Odin comes from the Hyndluljod:

“Let's ask the Host-father [Odin] to sit in good cheer; he grants and gives out gold to the worthy ... He gives victory to some, to some wealth, eloquence to many, and sense to men; a fair wind he gives to sailors, and fine words to skalds; he gives manliness to many a fighter.”

Another of the Icelandic poems, the Havamal, is said to record the words of Odin. From this, perhaps the most haunting passage is the following:

“Wounded I hung on a wind-swept tree. For nine long nights, pierced by a spear, pledged to Odin. Offered, myself to myself. The wisest know not from whence spring the roots of that ancient tree. They gave me no bread, they gave me no mead, I looked down; with a loud cry, I took up runes; from that tree I fell.”

This is a tale of shamanism that hints at a means of acquiring sacred knowledge that has been lost but can be found. On a purely functional level it also establishes Odin as the father of the written word, and thereby the protector of knowledge. Thus he is known as the Fjölnir (wise one, all-knowing or concealer), Fjölsviðr (very wise one) and Saðr (truthful).* Another story that emphasises this aspect of Odin is told in the Prose Edda:

Roman Beliefs Regarding the Afterlife

"Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus"
by Waterhouse (1900)

February is the month when ancient Romans traditionally honoured their dead, during the festival of the Parentalia, and this got me thinking about Roman attitudes to the afterlife. Roman polytheism does not provide clear-cut answers about the much pondered question of whether or not there is life after death:

“Traditional Pagan culture offered all kinds of views of death and the after-life: ranging from a terrifying series of punishment for those who had sinned in this life, through a more or less pleasant state of being that followed but was secondary to this life, to uncertainty or denial that that any form of after-life was possible (or knowable) … the official state cult did not particularly emphasise the fate of the individual after death, or urge a particular view of the after-life [Beard et al, Religions of Rome 1 at 289-290].”

Alma-Tadema - Roman Visions

Victorian Britain (1837-1901) was more than a little obsessed with the Roman era - from their Queen, who was named after the Roman Goddess of Victory, to the expanding British empire which bore similarities to that of Rome's, to the copious number of Romanesque artworks produced in the United Kingdom during that time. Of all the painters dealing with Roman themes none was more popular than Dutch-born Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836-1912) - a prolific painter who specialised in depicting (somewhat romanticised) scenes of everyday life in the classical world. While some of his work seems a little kitsch these days, some of it is wonderfully evocative and brings the ancient world to life. In homage to this true Romanophile, here follows some of my favourite Roman-themed works by Alma-Tadema.

Roman Calendar

"Sacrifice to Jupiter" by Noel Coypel (17th century)

Living in Sydney, where the seasonal calendar is the reverse of that of Rome’s (so that when it is winter in Rome it is summer in Sydney and vice versa), I have tended to not pay too much attention to the traditional polytheistic calendar of ancient Rome – for so many ancient celebrations were related to the seasonal cycles of Europe. I am also mindful of the fact that many ancient festivals celebrated the founding of temples that have long since fallen into ruin – if the temple no longer exists then celebrating its coming into being seems somewhat incongruous.  And then there is the fact that I don’t know too many Roman oriented polytheists – so with whom do I celebrate these festivals? 

The Invincible Sun – Sol Invictus

Christmas day (aka Dies Natalis Solis Invicti*) is getting closer and so I thought I would pay tribute to Sol Invictus, the Invincible Sun, sometimes thought to be the same as, or at least related to, radiant Apollo – one of the most revered Gods within the Roman pantheon. While the veneration of the Sun (Sol) is certainly a genuinely ancient Roman practice, the cult of Sol Invictus was a latecomer to the classical world and did not achieve widespread appeal until the third century CE, when it received imperial patronage. Beard et al describe the cult of Sol Invictus in ancient Rome thus:

Io Saturnalia!

Saturnalia falls on 17 December (and can be celebrated up to the 23rd*) and I can feel the fever coming on. Almost instinctively, most Westerners know how to celebrate it - probably because many of its customs were incorporated into the celebration of Christmas. Traditionally it is a festival held in honour of Saturn, who is associated with agricultural bounteousness and a mythological golden age of plenty. More generally it is a time of merry making, disrupting established rules and hierarchies (eg, by reversing social roles - in my home we role swap on Saturnalia; I usually pretend to be the cat), game playing (dice was most popular in ancient times), parties, feasting, drinking, relaxation and gift giving.** I wanted to find some good Saturnalian images to help bring the mood on. Here follows some of my favourites (which I couldn't resist annotating:):

Menstruation and Ritual Purity

"Circe" by J Waterhouse (1911)

Lately I have been thinking about the question of menstrual blood and ritual purity. Menstrual taboos are most notably associated with conservative Judaism and Islam, but they also occur in fellow Indo-European religions in the east, such as Hinduism, Zoroastrianism and the indigenous religion of the Kalash. Meanwhile in the west, if social media is anything to go by, a number of polytheists seeking to reconstruct the indigenous religions of Europe (including the Religio Romana) also advocate menstrual taboos – the general idea is that menstruating women should not perform ritual offerings (or enter temples) to the Gods because they are ritually unclean while they are menstruating. In light of all of this, and because I like to think I am genuinely open minded, I considered the possibility that there might be something to this apparently very ancient and widespread taboo.

Nine Problems with Christianity

"Dante and Virgil in Hell" (1850) by W Bouguereau 

In my life I find that Christians are everywhere, especially within my extended family. Though I am not a big fan of belittling other belief systems, because the ways to the truth are many, I have had to really think about and be able to articulate why I don't accept their faith – because I am pretty sure I am not the only one who has had to fend off well-meaning evangelists, I thought I would share some of these reasons:

I. Fear (of hell) lies at the core of Christianity I watched my mother die a protracted death (cancer) and witnessed for myself the way her fear of hell (she was not a Christian, but had been raised in a very devout Lutheran home) needlessly poisoned her final months – I could never wish to be part of a religion that inspires such a morbid dread of the afterlife.

Thoughts in 2025: this is a critique of Protestant Christianity, which does not allow for purgatory (Catholicism) or toll houses (Orthodoxy). Luther's teachings on hell are indeed vile (ie, anyone who does not go to heaven experiences 'eternal endless torment'), but they are probably wrong, or only partly right (if they are right at all). I think it likely that Luther was in fact a heretic, for his teachings have pushed people away from God. All of the original nations that once embraced his teachings (German states, Scandinavia, etc) have become overwhelmingly secularised. 

II. I cannot believe that God, as understood by Christians, is real If the Christian God is so powerful why do horrible things happen again and again and again? To my mind there are only two plausible answers to this question: either because he does not exist in the manner that Christians claim he exists (ie, he may exist but is not nearly as powerful as Christians say; this view is the one I tend to adopt) or he does exist as Christians claim but allows awful things to happen because he is cold and mean and is therefore not worthy of reverence. Cicero put the argument more eloquently:

'Either God wishes to remove evils and cannot, or he can do so and is unwilling, or he has neither the will nor the power, or he has both the will and the power. If he has the will but not the power he is a weakling, and this is not characteristic of God. If he has the power but not the will, he is grudging, and this is a trait equally foreign to God. If he has neither the will nor the power, he is both grudging and weak, and is therefore not divine. If he has both the will and the power (and this is the sole circumstance appropriate to God), what is the source of evils, or why does God not dispel them [Cicero, The Nature of the Gods, 3.65]?'