Class: Stage 6, Ancient History.

Assumptions:

This module assumes that students have access to computers in class and the basic competency to learn how to use the augmented reality programs online.

The syllabus requires approximately 30 hours to be dedicated to learning about Pompeii. As such, the current module, which covers only about two and a quarter hours, forms only a small segment of the total study. It is expected that this module will commence after an initial period of instruction lasting for a few classes, in which the students will gain a basic understanding of the history of the city of Pompeii, its destruction and preservation.

Synopsis:

In this series of 3 lessons students will be given the opportunity to explore an overview of some aspects of culture and society of the city of Pompeii. Students will be set the task of constructing a virtual museum exhibit about these cultural aspects of Pompeii, using augmented reality tools available online to embed rich media and displays of object files to construct the exhibits. Students will record voice-over tracks to situate their chosen exhibits in the overall narrative which collectively constructed. At the conclusion of the 3 lessons the museum exhibition will be available for viewing by other members of staff, students, and parents should they so choose.

The module is intended to give the students a feel for the life of those people who lived and died under the shadow of Vesuvius. Such insights will enrich the more in-depth source criticism that occurs in later modules regarding Pompeii. Furthermore, the construction of this exhibition ought to provide the students with a visceral image of the life and death of the city, hopefully sparking an enthusiasm for the subject and an empathy with the peoples who lived and died there.

Objectives:

All objectives have been taken from BOSTES (2009).

Knowledge and understanding:

H1.1. Describe and assess the significance of key people, groups, events, institutions, societies and sites within the historical context.
H3.1. Locate, select and organise relevant information from a variety of sources.
H3.2. Discuss relevant problems of sources for reconstructing the past.
H3.3. Analyse and evaluate sources for their usefulness and reliability.
H3.6. Plan and present the findings of historical investigations, analysing and synthesising information from a range of sources.
H4.2. Communicate knowledge and understanding of historical features and issues using appropriate oral and written forms.

Values:

5. Values the complexity and variety of human experiences as reflected in the history of the ancient world.
7. Develops an interest in history for lifelong learning.

Key questions:

1. What was it like to live in ancient Pompeii?
2. What does the archaeological evidence show regarding Pompeian religious beliefs and practices?
3. What does the archaeological evidence reveal to the historian regarding ancient pastimes and cultural practices?

Formative assessment for this module:

An augmented reality exhibit constructed in small groups using Aurasma. Aurasma is a free to use augmented reality construction and distribution tool which allows users to enrich static visual images with rich media including 2d and 3d visuals, videos, audio files and links to online resources, which can then be experienced by using the Aurasma app on a mobile device. Tutorials are available on their website. Students are free to construct more than 1 Aura if they so choose to illustrate their learning. Students ought to showcase at least 4 well-chosen artifacts outlining the topic they have selected, plus any other media they consider beneficial to the presentation. This must include a voice-over mp3 file which is to be written and recorded and added to the Aura or Auras, explaining what has been researched regarding the topic and how the objects chosen illustrate and elucidate the topic.

If the exhibits are not completed during class time they are to be set as work to be completed at home.

Once the exhibition has been completed, other students, staff members and other interested parties are to be invited to observe the student’s constructions.

On top of this, each student is to keep a diary explaining the development of their insights on the topics at hand. This work should be around 500 words.

Extension:

If the students wish to extend their learning, a number of 3d files are available online regarding the culture of ancient Pompeii. These may be downloaded and printed to further illustrate the topics covered.

Students are also free to deepen and broaden their research on the topics covered to their heart’s desire.

Lesson 1. Orientation.

From http://penelope.uchicago.edu/~grout/encyclopaedia_romana/wine/vesuvius.html

The first lesson is to orient the students to the module and to provide a scaffolded approach to the technology required, and presents the students an opportunity to begin grappling with the materials provided.

In preparation for this class students ought to be encouraged to create an Aurasma account and spend some time familiarizing themselves with the user interface.

1. The teacher introduces the module to the class, including some words of orientation regarding the topic and introduces the formative assessment task and talks about what is required from the students for this body of work. – 10 minutes.

2. The teacher explains what Aurasma is and how it is used. An introductory Aura is created by the teacher to demonstrate the process by which it is done, and to serve as an introduction to the exhibition. – 15 minutes.

3. The students are broken into modest sized groups which they will continue in for the duration of the module. Each group selects 1 topic from the following:

a. The food of Pompeii – crops, food industries and the culture of consumption.

b. Religions and Temples at Pompeii.

c. Pastimes of Pompeii.

d. Trade and business life of Pompeii.

- 5 minutes.

4. Students will be presented with a resource package, which includes primary literary records, some secondary literature to orient the students regarding current historical thought, and a selection of archaeological resources from which to draw the information for their Aura. (See Appendix A.) Students may also research outside of these resources for more information and artifacts. Students are to explore the information in their resource packages and start to plan their Aura. – 15 minutes.

Lesson 2. Research, Planning and Writing.

From http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/romans/images/gal_daily_isis.jpg

The second lesson will give the students the opportunity to develop their insights into the information presented in the initial session, and collaboratively plan and begin to construct their Auras.

1. The different groups are asked to quickly present their thoughts on what they learned in the previous lesson. Questions are encouraged regarding the project. – 10 minutes.

2. Students are instructed to read or observe the materials in their resource packages, and search for more resources if they so desire. – 15 minutes.

3. Students are to begin constructing their Aura or Auras. – 15 minutes.

4. A period of time is set aside to discuss progress, thoughts, and troubleshooting. – 5 minutes.

Lesson 3. Completion and display.

From https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a6/Gladiator_helmet_found_in_Pompeii_and_richly_decorated_with_scenes_of_Greek_mythology,_Gladiators_%E2%80%93_Death_and_Triumph_at_the_Colosseum_exhibition,_Museum_und_Park_Kalkriese_(9614907485).jpg

The third lesson gives the students the opportunity to finish their Auras, and to present their Auras to the group.

1. The different groups are asked to quickly present their thoughts on what they learned in the previous lesson and reflect on the development of their Aura. – 5 minutes.

2. Time is set aside to finish any remaining work for the Auras. – 15 minutes.

3. Students construct the exhibition space, moving desks and chairs as necessary. – 5 minutes.

4. Students present their exhibitions to each other, the groups taking it in turns to display their productions. – 20 minutes.

At the conclusion of the module, if possible, the exhibition is to be left in place and students are encouraged to invite significant parties to observe and interact with the exhibits during out of class hours.

Appendix 1. Resources for Food.

Murphy, C., Thompson, G., & Fuller, D. Q. (2013). Roman food refuse: urban archaeobotany in Pompeii, Regio VI, Insula 1. Vegetation history and archaeobotany, 22(5), 409-419.

Cooley, A. E., & Cooley, M. G. L. (2013). Pompeii and Herculaneum: a sourcebook. Routledge.

Vesuvius and Wine

Bradley, P. (2013). Cities of Vesuvius: Pompeii and Herculaneum. Cambridge University Press. Chapter 1.

Remains of incomplete Garum fermentation from Pompeii

Reconstruction of Pompeian bread

Appendix 2. Resources for Religion.

Cooley, A. E., & Cooley, M. G. L. (2013). Pompeii and Herculaneum: a sourcebook. Routledge. Chapter 5: Religion, pp.117-160.

The Temple of Isis

University of Oregon on Isis worship

The Gods of Pompeii by Dr. Bill Leadbetter

Household gods

From https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/af/Vettii.jpg

Appendix 3. Resources for Pastimes.

Cooley, A. E., & Cooley, M. G. L. (2013). Pompeii and Herculaneum: a sourcebook. Routledge. Chapter 4: Leisure, pp.58-116.

Graffiti in Pompeii

Leisure activities

Appendix 4. Resources for Economy and Trade.

Cooley, A. E., & Cooley, M. G. L. (2013). Pompeii and Herculaneum: a sourcebook. Routledge. Chapter 8: Commercial Life, pp.227-286.

Flohr, M. (2013). The textile economy of Pompeii. Journal of Roman Archaeology, 26, 53-78.

 The Macellum (Market)

Appendix 5. General resources.

Pictorial archive of Pompeii

Digital Pompeii Project, University of Arkansas

Viewing Pompeii – Pompeii Forum Project

BOSTES (2009). Ancient History Syllabus.

1. Beowulf.
Consider Beowulf, the early English tale of a Danish adventurer and king. What’s the best way to read this story? English has changed so much over time that the average reader requires a translation. Fortunately, there are several available. Some aim to get across the metre and flow of the original story. Some aim to choose the most accurate word for each word in the original. So the modern reader can make their choice based on what they think is the best method of getting at the original document.

But the best way to understand Beowulf is to learn old English and read the document in the original. More than that, they will get the full richness out of the text if they first infuse themselves with knowledge about life as lived at the time of composition, the literary, social, political, intellectual and religious context in which the original document came into being. Furthermore, its transmission and influence are also interesting narratives that should be considered when understanding the text as it resides in the modern world.

Sounds like a lot of work. And it is. But if you want to truly understand the document you can’t be afraid of a little hard work, and it is perfectly possible for someone to achieve this. Lots of people have done it and the world is a better place for it.

To be totally obvious and out there about what I’m trying to say with the preceding paragraphs: You don’t understand something complex by taking the easy path.

2. Ideological model building.
I’ve been mulling over this one for a while.

Consider academic studies. Let’s take History as an example, but it’s the same in a lot of fields. Many historians take a particular slant on the study of a given set of events. The economic historian will interpret the events by looking at and explaining economic forces underlying events and the economic outcomes springing therefrom. The feminist historian views events as they relate to gender or see events as illustrative of the intellectual model they are using.

What ends up happening, however, is that the information in question is forced into the interpretational model selected. The evidence that supports the model is selected for consideration, that which doesn’t easily fit is either ignored or briefly explained away. In doing so they transform the information they are studying and end up creating not so much a deep understanding of the topic as much as a representation of the topic conforming to their preconceptions.

Now, the apologist for this form of scholarship might say “But Paul, the only way forward is to build models, testing and rebuilding as needs be. No one person can possibly fathom the complexity of a particular subject in all its aspects. Surely we should allow these particular people to chase their respective rabbits down their ideological rabbit holes to see how far they go?”

I respectfully disagree. These particularized studies tend to be read predominately by people who already agree with the preconception, or sometimes by those who are diametrically opposed and are looking for something to disagree with. Other scholars may pass their eyes across the document but are unlikely to pay it much heed or remember the details.

I propose a different approach. Fear not complexity. Instead embrace it. The human mind is capable of understanding vastly complex subjects and dealing with a vast quantity of information. Scholars should not be afraid to attempt an integrated study of a subject, including as many different aspects and means of analysis as possible – a truly comprehensive work.

To be obvious again: scholars frequently cut up topics into smaller bits, ordered ideologically, fearing the complexity of trying to deal with a subject unbounded by theoretical constraints. In the process they frequently lose the value in looking at the topic through a broader window.

To sum up thus far: Although capable, people are often scared of the effort involved in understanding something complex on its own terms.

3. Organizational planning.
This same tendency can be seen in organizational planning. In almost all larger workplaces there tends to be 2 types of worker: those who are employed to do the various different tasks essential to the running of everyday business activities, and those employed to steer the organization in the direction they believe is the best. The relationship between these two groups tends to be marked by distance and misunderstanding. Let’s call them “Planners” and “Workers” for ease of reference.

Planners tend to think of the organization as a single entity positioned within a community of other organizations. Should they wish the organization to grow one way and shrink another, this is thought of purely as a strategic concern. These individuals are given little time to consider the particulars of how each section of the organization literally works. They hardly ever experience what it is like to be a “worker”. They do not understand viscerally how anything actually operates. It is too small in scope for what they are paid for.

Which is why the Workers tend to view them with suspicion. Workers see the grand designs drawn up by the Planners and, after they have waded through the unfamiliar language and concepts alluded to in the voluminous documents, become vaguely aware that the changes proposed:

• Will cause a lot of stress and suffering to people
• Will take a lot of time and effort to implement
• Look totally unnecessary
• Are poorly explained
• Do not take into account how the work is actually done.

It is not uncommon for Workers to feel that the proposals of the Planners are there simply to justify the enormous pay packets they undoubtedly receive.

And this is, of course, wrong. Large organizations require strategic planning, require change to adapt to the changing economic and political environment in which they exist. Otherwise they’ll just continue to operate the way they’ve always done regardless of circumstance, become slowly more obsolete and eventually fail.

It isn’t necessarily the planners’ fault, either. Consider the current thinking about “Thinking”. It is generally repeated that one might engage in either “Big Picture” thinking or “Detail Oriented” thinking. Planners are expected to do “Big Picture” thinking and, by virtue of this fact, are discouraged from considering detail. The only reason I can see to justify this is because people fear being bogged down by the complexity of the detail.

Once again: complexity is feared.

But if one is to make important decisions affecting the lives of hundreds of people, surely fear is not a sufficient excuse?

It is my opinion that parents should be involved in their kid’s play. It sounds obvious, but go to any gathering of parents and you’ll find the majority of parents hanging out with other parents chatting, and the kids happily distracted with other children, and never (or hardly ever) the twain shall meet. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that – having the opportunity for your kids to play with other kids, giving you a bit of much needed time off is necessary and wonderful. But so is actually getting down and playing on your kids level. When an adult plays kids games they legitimate the child’s experience, energise their games, develop their minds.

It’s also important to challenge your kids, to make creative things together, to play in a way that teaches skills and aptitudes. And this clip exemplifies this kind of parenting. Consider the following, and remember that it’s a creation of a father and his 3 kids, aged 6, 3 and 3. Leading the creative process, maintaining their interest in a project like this over a period of 2 hours or so is a wonderful lesson in the rewards of labour and follow-through in the pursuit of a creative goal.

Did I mention there’s an animated carrot Cthulhu? And Sith made out of lego?

Notes on Writing Weird Fiction
by H.P. Lovecraft
First published in Amateur Correspondent 2, No.1, 1937

My reason for writing stories is to give myself the satisfaction of visualising more clearly and detailedly and stably the vague, elusive, fragmentary impressions of wonder, beauty, and adventurous expectancy which are conveyed to me by certain sights (scenic, architectural, atmospheric, etc.), ideas, occurrences, and images encountered in art and literature. I choose weird stories because they suit my inclination best—one of my strongest and most persistent wishes being to achieve, momentarily, the illusion of some strange suspension or violation of the galling limitations of time, space, and natural law which for ever imprison us and frustrate our curiosity about the infinite cosmic spaces beyond the radius of our sight and analysis. These stories frequently emphasise the element of horror because fear is our deepest and strongest emotion, and the one which best lends itself to the creation of nature-defying illusions. Horror and the unknown or the strange are always closely connected, so that it is hard to create a convincing picture of shattered natural law or cosmic alienage or “outsideness” without laying stress on the emotion of fear. The reason why time plays a great part in so many of my tales is that this element looms up in my mind as the most profoundly dramatic and grimly terrible thing in the universe. Conflict with time seems to me the most potent and fruitful theme in all human expression.

While my chosen form of story-writing is obviously a special and perhaps a narrow one, it is none the less a persistent and permanent type of expression, as old as literature itself. There will always be a small percentage of persons who feel a burning curiosity about unknown outer space, and a burning desire to escape from the prison-house of the known and the real into those enchanted lands of incredible adventure and infinite possibilities which dreams open up to us, and which things like deep woods, fantastic urban towers, and flaming sunsets momentarily suggest. These persons include great authors as well as insignificant amateurs like myself—Dunsany, Poe, Arthur Machen, M. R. James, Algernon Blackwood, and Walter de la Mare being typical masters in this field.

As to how I write a story—there is no one way. Each one of my tales has a different history. Once or twice I have literally written out a dream; but usually I start with a mood or idea or image which I wish to express, and revolve it in my mind until I can think of a good way of embodying it in some chain of dramatic occurrences capable of being recorded in concrete terms. I tend to run through a mental list of the basic conditions or situations best adapted to such a mood or idea or image, and then begin to speculate on logical and naturally motivated explanations of the given mood or idea or image in terms of the basic condition or situation chosen.

The actual process of writing is of course as varied as the choice of theme and initial conception; but if the history of all my tales were analysed, it is just possible that the following set of rules might be deduced from the average procedure:

(1) Prepare a synopsis or scenario of events in the order of their absolute occurrence —not the order of their narration. Describe with enough fulness to cover all vital points and motivate all incidents planned. Details, comments, and estimates of consequences are sometimes desirable in this temporary framework.

(2) Prepare a second synopsis or scenario of events—this one in order of narration (not actual occurrence), with ample fulness and detail, and with notes as to changing perspective, stresses, and climax. Change the original synopsis to fit if such a change will increase the dramatic force or general effectiveness of the story. Interpolate or delete incidents at will—never being bound by the original conception even if the ultimate result be a tale wholly different from that first planned. Let additions and alterations be made whenever suggested by anything in the formulating process.

(3) Write out the story—rapidly, fluently, and not too critically—following the second or narrative-order synopsis. Change incidents and plot whenever the developing process seems to suggest such change, never being bound by any previous design. If the development suddenly reveals new opportunities for dramatic effect or vivid storytelling, add whatever is thought advantageous—going back and reconciling the early parts to the new plan. Insert and delete whole sections if necessary or desirable, trying different beginnings and endings until the best arrangement is found. But be sure that all references throughout the story are thoroughly reconciled with the final design. Remove all possible superfluities—words, sentences, paragraphs, or whole episodes or elements—observing the usual precautions about the reconciling of all references.

(4) Revise the entire text, paying attention to vocabulary, syntax, rhythm of prose, proportioning of parts, niceties of tone, grace and convincingness or transitions (scene to scene, slow and detailed action to rapid and sketchy time-covering action and vice versa. . . . etc., etc., etc.), effectiveness of beginning, ending, climaxes, etc., dramatic suspense and interest, plausibility and atmosphere, and various other elements.

(5) Prepare a neatly typed copy—not hesitating to add final revisory touches where they seem in order.

The first of these stages is often purely a mental one—a set of conditions and happenings being worked out in my head, and never set down until I am ready to prepare a detailed synopsis of events in order of narration. Then, too, I sometimes begin even the actual writing before I know how I shall develop the idea—this beginning forming a problem to be motivated and exploited.

There are, I think, four distinct types of weird story; one expressing a mood or feeling, another expressing a pictorial conception, a third expressing a general situation, condition, legend, or intellectual conception, and a fourth explaining a definite tableau or specific dramatic situation or climax. In another way, weird tales may be grouped into two rough categories—those in which the marvel or horror concerns some condition or phenomenon, and those in which it concerns some action of persons in connexion with a bizarre condition or phenomenon.

Each weird story—to speak more particularly of the horror type—seems to involve five definite elements: (a) some basic, underlying horror or abnormality—condition, entity, etc.—, (b) the general effects or bearings of the horror, (c) the mode of manifestation—object embodying the horror and phenomena observed—, (d) the types of fear-reaction pertaining to the horror, and (e) the specific effects of the horror in relation to the given set of conditions.

In writing a weird story I always try very carefully to achieve the right mood and atmosphere, and place the emphasis where it belongs. One cannot, except in immature pulp charlatan–fiction, present an account of impossible, improbable, or inconceivable phenomena as a commonplace narrative of objective acts and conventional emotions. Inconceivable events and conditions have a special handicap to overcome, and this can be accomplished only through the maintenance of a careful realism in every phase of the story except that touching on the one given marvel. This marvel must be treated very impressively and deliberately—with a careful emotional “build-up”—else it will seem flat and unconvincing. Being the principal thing in the story, its mere existence should overshadow the characters and events. But the characters and events must be consistent and natural except where they touch the single marvel. In relation to the central wonder, the characters should shew the same overwhelming emotion which similar characters would shew toward such a wonder in real life. Never have a wonder taken for granted. Even when the characters are supposed to be accustomed to the wonder I try to weave an air of awe and impressiveness corresponding to what the reader should feel. A casual style ruins any serious fantasy.

Atmosphere, not action, is the great desideratum of weird fiction. Indeed, all that a wonder story can ever be is a vivid picture of a certain type of human mood. The moment it tries to be anything else it becomes cheap, puerile, and unconvincing. Prime emphasis should be given to subtle suggestion—imperceptible hints and touches of selective associative detail which express shadings of moods and build up a vague illusion of the strange reality of the unreal. Avoid bald catalogues of incredible happenings which can have no substance or meaning apart from a sustaining cloud of colour and symbolism.

These are the rules or standards which I have followed—consciously or unconsciously—ever since I first attempted the serious writing of fantasy. That my results are successful may well be disputed—but I feel at least sure that, had I ignored the considerations mentioned in the last few paragraphs, they would have been much worse than they are.

Link after the break.

Should you wish to check for a zombie apocalypse in progress, please press this handy link:

Is There a Zombie Apocalypse?

V.iii. The Helpful Ghost

Ghosts also occur in the role of advisory spirits.  This is most prevalent in the case of necromancy, where the spirit is forced to provide information to the necromancer through magical means.  Several instances of this may be seen in literature as well as the magical texts.  Some of these examples include the Golden Ass, where a corpse of a murdered person is reanimated so that it may be questioned over who committed the murder.^[1] Another instance is the Pharsalia,^[2] where Pompey’s son wishes to inquire into the future.  A final example is from Cassius Dio, where Antoninus was enchanted by the enemy he faced, and imagined himself to be chased by his father and brother armed with swords.  He called up spirits in order to find a remedy against this problem, thus showing the nature of necromancy as a quest for knowledge and guidance.  However, spirits did not give him favourable answers, but let him know that his doom was at hand.^[3] Therefore, even under necromantic ceremony, ghosts at times could act unpredictably.  However, there are also cases where the dead provide information or advice through their own volition.  One case of this is occurs in De Divinatione,^[4] where it states that Gaius Gracchus received visits from his deceased brother in dreams, who told him of his impending death.  There is also the case of the travelers, where one appears to the other in a dream, asking for help against his murderer, and eventually showing the place where he may be caught.^[5] This may be motivated by a wish for justice and righteous anger by the deceased spirit, but it also shows a concern for the living member of his party, lest he fall foul of the same murdering innkeeper.  We may thus see that some ghosts in literature are motivated by a wish to help the living, and thus appear to give advice and information.  This shows the continued relationship the dead had with the living, being able to give advice and advance warning to their living relatives and friends.

V.iv. The Enigmatic Ghost

Then there are those ghosts that are difficult to define.  Part of any ghostly story is an element of the supernatural, which by definition is beyond understanding.  This was one of the first tenets of being a magician, the character who dealt with the dead, in the ancient world; to make sure the clients thought you had understanding which they didn’t.  Such things as voces magicae and the peculiar nature of many of the spells argue that a large part of the magician’s art was obfuscation.^[6] Ghostly phenomenon follows the same rules.  As a supernatural phenomenon, they are beyond understanding.  Several instances bear this out, such as the story of a girl, dead for six months, returning to sleep with her lover.  Her parents walk in on this, and the girl “dies” again.^[7] Another such indefinable story is told by Pausanias.^[8] Here the ghosts of those who fell on the field of Marathon are said to appear at times, re-fighting the famous battle at night.  Here we may see the contradiction in beliefs concerning the “glorious” dead, such as those that fall on a battlefield.  On one side, they are considered martyrs for their country, yet on the other, they the restless dead.  It is this interpretation that Pausanias subscribes to in this story.  Such instances as this are difficult to describe in terms of purpose or meaning, and just serve to show that the literary form of the ghost was not always connected to moral teaching or general belief.  Often these stories are merely there to chill the bones.

V.ii. The Hostile Ghost

Some ghosts appear purely for revenge.  These ghosts are motivated by anger, and have thus been unable to pass to the lands beyond.  Such instances occur in Suetonius’ tale of Nero,^[1] where after murdering his mother, he was plagued by her ghost in his dreams, and had to resort to a necromancer to appease her.  This shows amply how this form of ghost could have manifested itself in the belief system of the day through guilt.  Indeed, Suetonius uses the words

Neque tamen conscientiam sceleris …aut statim aut umquam postea ferre potuit, saepe confessus exagitari se materna specie verberibusque Furiarum ac Taedis ardentibus.  Quin et facto per Magos sacro evocare Manes et exorare temptavit.

However, not being in good conscience of the crime …neither at once nor ever after was able to bear, often confessing to be harassed by his mother’s phantom and the whips and burning torches of the Furies.  He even attempted to summon and entreat her ghost by rites performed by magicians (to forgive him).

We may see in this the relationship between guilt and haunting.  Suetonius makes a direct correlation between the way Nero felt about the murder of his mother and his subsequent harassment from her ghost.  The same has already been mentioned about the class of dead who had died before their time.  Those left behind feel guilt, either for inaction, or for the act of destroying life.  It is interesting to find necromancers as a means of appeasing that sense of guilt, of facilitating the emotional recovery of the bereaved through an apparent meeting of the living with the dead.  Here we may see one function of the ancient necromancer in his society.  Guilt concerning the dead is a common reaction, especially when they have died young.  Because the infant mortality rate was so high in this period, we may see that the necromancer’s art would have been in high demand.  Their social function was not, therefore, limited to the interrelation of power, but also of emotional benefit.

Other examples of the angry ghost occur in Ovid’s Fasti, where the dead allow their descendants to suffer because their propitiatory rites were not performed.^[2] This shows some nuance to the perceived relationship between the living and the dead.  The duties carried out for the dead were not seen as just for the purposes of maintaining a relationship with one’s ancestors, or to honour the memories of those past, nor out of maintained grief, but a large part is due to the fear of the dead.  As we have seen, the spirits of the dead were close to Roman culture.  Belief in their influence and the several rituals observed where the dead were supposed to take part were fundamental to Roman culture, and took up a lot of effort and time.  The dead were also potent, and could cause terrible trouble, even death.  Thus, the actions taken for the benefit of the dead were not conducted solely out of respect and duty, but out of genuine fear.

There are also humorous accounts of the angry ghost, showing that the beliefs in this phenomenon, or at least the tales were widespread at this time.  Comedy is funny when it shows normal life in a different light.^[3] Two cases of this are most readily thought of; firstly, Lucian’s “The Dead Come to Life”, otherwise known as “The Fisherman.”  In this play, the protagonist is visited by the ghosts of the ancient philosophers, who are angry at the comments he has made about philosophy in a previous play.  “The Dead Come to Life” appears to have been written as an answer to the backlash by philosophers of his day about his previous play, “Philosophies for Sale.”^[4] The protagonist argues that he is not against the ancient masters, but the modern philosophers who argue about nothing, and thereby sully the great name of philosophy.  This is a case where the dead are said to rise because their name was not reverenced properly.  However, we must not read too much into this evidence, as it is a play written for comedic value, and properly understood natural or supernatural laws would not have to apply if they got in the way of the story.  Probably the most we may learn from this evidence is that the belief that the phenomenon of the dead visiting the living to exact revenge was a known well enough, at least as a literary motif, that comedy could be made of it.

Ghost stories often betray a certain social conservatism.  Juvenal wrote

Today not even children – except those small enough to get a free public bath – believe all that stuff about ghosts, or underground kingdoms and rivers, or black frogs croaking in the waters of Styx, or thousands of dead men ferried across by one small skiff.^[5]

It is problematic to try to piece together the factuality of this statement, as it is couched in a satirical drama, where truth is less important than laughs.  Although this evidence could be read as proof that belief in the existence of the afterlife was waning during the first and second century, there is no other evidence to support such a claim.  Indeed, the plethora of curse tablets from this era and other necromantic physical remains seems to argue the opposite, let alone the literary allusions to the afterlife.  These evidences should not be overcome by one or two off-hand remarks about disbelief.  What we can make of these evidences is that there were certain members of the community who disbelieved in the afterlife, and considered the stories merely children’s tales.  It appears that the tales quoted by Ovid, or created by him, are a reaction to this set of people.^[6] Their disbelief, and hence their refusal to follow the prescribed rituals concerning the propitiation of the dead were considered dangerous to the entire community, in much the same way as one person’s impiety against the gods was considered dangerous to the entire community.  The story in the Fasti of the angry, unpropitiated ghosts hints at the indiscriminate destruction they created, not targeted at the persons who wronged them.^[7] Thus, we may see that these stories of the reprisals of the dead often carry a message of social conservatism.

Sometimes the stories also carry a message of justice.  In one such story, a man and his friend both take rooms at an inn.^[8] In the middle of the night, the man dreams his friend is talking to him, telling him that the innkeeper is murdering him and the man must prevent it.  The man awakes, considers it a nightmare, and returns to sleep.  He is then visited by the apparition a second time, and told that since he had not saved him on the first warning, he should now avenge his murder, by catching the innkeeper as he tries to dispose of the body.  This the friend diligently does.  In this story we may discern a message for the audience: that the very act of injustice creates the means for the perpetrator’s own destruction.  This theme of “just deserts” is a recurring theme when it comes to the dead; the witches in Horace’s poem are cursed by the boy they murder, who promises to revisit them after he has died and cause no end of strife for them.^[9] A third story that is similar is the cursing of Aeneas by Queen Dido upon her suicidal pyre.^[10] She promises suffering and torment for the wrongs she perceives herself to have suffered on behalf of Aeneas.  She is also seen to use a magical rite to ensure that her promise may be kept – she burns a wax figure, or “voodoo doll” of Aeneas on the pyre with her, along with his personal possessions, which we may term “ousia” for the purposes of defining the magical significance.  Indeed, these stories have more in common with each other than at first glance, for they also have the anomaly present of the person about to die committing a deed of magic or necromancy.  In the first story, the man who is about to be killed succeeds in sending a dream to his friend before actually dying.  In the second, it is the act of the boy committing his ghost to the destruction of his destroyers, whereas Dido curses the person she hates with a magical ritual and promise of otherworldly retribution.  It is evident from this that the Romans believed in the ability for a normal person to accomplish otherwise unexplainable feats during a moment of desperation.^[11] Thus the character of a ghost was often called on in literature to inflict justice upon the antagonists.

I’m not pointing fingers. You know who you are.

Imagine my relief, therefore, when I found this gem while trawling the interwebs. I shall endeavour to make it required reading prior to all discussions of an involved nature in the future. Observe:

Brought to you by the wonderful people over at Critical Thinkers.

A point well taken.

However, I really like that first bit – I thought it really exposed the potential for a society to fear the possibility of prematurely burying the dead. So I thought I would provide it here. The text follows the break.

Haec est conditio mortalium: ad has et eiusmodi occasiones fortunae gignimur, ut de homine ne morti quidem debeat credi.

This is the condition of mortals: to this and other occasions of fortune we are subject, so that concerning man no confidence should be placed even in death.

(Pliny Natural History 7.52.173)

A problem commonly experienced to do with death is the anxiety associated with the accuracy of its diagnosis.  The line between life and death is not as distinct as popular culture and the medical profession often presents it.  One of the most recent reminders of this fact, and certainly one of the most widely publicised, was the case of Theresa (Terry) Schiavo in the USA.  The history of the legal dispute is complicated, but the controversy in the public spotlight centred on the question of the point at which a society considers someone to be deceased.  Eventually the justice system decided that Ms. Schiavo was mentally and socially dead, and that therefore the actual physical expiration had already taken place, much to the consternation of the people who thought otherwise.  The heart of the matter was whether Terry Schiavo met the criteria currently in place to consider a person dead, a definition which has gone through major changes in the last thirty years.  The definition of death itself can sometimes be seen as a fluid concept which reflects the consensus of the majority, or the presiding interests, of the culture.  This raises the possibility that a person might be officially considered dead when, according to some dissenting individuals, they are not.  There are limitations to the accuracy of diagnosing the event of death, which once again leads to the possibility of the individual in question being disposed of before, in reality, being deceased.  To combat these fears, the medical profession has in place procedures for pronouncing a person dead;[i] the judgement must be done by a qualified person, usually a doctor. Without the pronouncement by a doctor a death certificate cannot be issued, and legally the person must be considered alive unless various obvious signs of mortality, such as decapitation, are present.  The doctor must follow a strict set of diagnostic guidelines to pronounce a person deceased.  However, sometimes these diagnostic measures are themselves open to challenge and debate.[ii]

The anxieties to do with the diagnosis of death are revealed most starkly in times of high mortality; plague conditions necessitate swift burial, and sometimes this results in mistakes.  Problematically, some common “plague” viruses can depress signs of vigour.[iii] The mix of the two issues gives rise to the likelihood of premature disposal.  As an example of the measures certain societies have created to mitigate these problems, during the medieval and early modern plagues in Europe it became common practice to furnish a new grave with a bell; should a person wake up having wrongly been interred, the theory was that they should ring the bell, and be delivered from their plight.[iv] Popular etymological thought has it that the phrases “saved by the bell” and “dead ringer” came from this practice, and that the phrase “graveyard shift” originally indicated those individuals tasked with listening for the ringing of the mistakenly buried.

Several works were written in the eighteenth and nineteenth century collecting tales of premature burial or dissection.  One of the most notable was Franz Hartmann’s contribution in 1895, which indicated over 700 cases of premature burial, including copious evidence of each case, such as “hissing noises from coffins or vaults, bodies that had moved after interment, torn shrouds, wood splinters discovered under the fingernails…” among many other particulars.  Although the British Medical Journal of 1896 dismissed these claims, it remains evidence of the continued fear of this occurrence, and was by no means the only book on the subject to be published about the same time.  In fact, in 1896, Count Karnice-Karnicki, a Russian doctor and member of the Faculty of Law at the University of Louvain, invented a device to be placed in a coffin that would respond to any motion of the corpse by ringing a bell, raising a flag and opening an air vent.[v]

Recent scholarship has provided further information on the subject of this fear. Jan Bondeson published a study in 2001 entitled Buried Alive.  This text centres on the medical debate regarding the accuracy of the diagnosis of death in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.  During this time there were quite substantial fears about this topic, leading to the establishment of many anti-premature burial societies, including the London Society for the Prevention of Premature Burial, which was founded in 1896.  The society contended, based on the number of corpses found in contorted positions within opened graves, that as many as ten percent of the population were buried alive.[vi] Bondeson’s work furnishes a wealth of anecdotal and factual evidence of the strength of this fear within communities who have reason to distrust their methods of identifying death.