British Museum's Scythian show brings mythic people to life

If you share my opinion that the British Museum is at its best when it's exposing us to mysterious cultures about which we know little, then you'll love the current Scythian exhibit.

Hold on, I hear you say. They're not mysterious. Horse people? Russian Steppes? Attila, Huns and the fall of the Roman Empire, right?

Close, but no. The Scythians were indeed mounted, nomadic warriors who occupied an informal empire that stretched from modern China in the east all the way to Greece in the west. But they roamed the steppes hundreds of years before the Huns; they were active from about the 9th c BC to the  1st c BC. Their contemporaries were Alexander the Great, the Ancient Greeks, and Persian kings like Darius and Cyrus rather than the last Roman Emperors and terrified medieval monks. And while the Huns produced some gorgeous portable art and did us the favour of inventing the stirrup, Scythian art makes the later stuff look simple and crude.

More intriguing, the Scythians almost disappeared from history for more than 1,000 years and are still little known today. Thanks to Ghengis and Attila (perhaps the ultimate example of the idea that "no press is bad press") the Huns blaze a trail through Western civilisation. Most people know at least a little about them. When it comes to the Scythians, there wasn't much in the historical record beyond a few mentions by Herodotus, and no physical remains. Many people assumed they were a myth. Then, under Peter the Great, Russians started digging into burial mounds and unearthing astonishing treasure. The tsar was captivated, and declared all Scythian excavations to be the property of the crown. In the 19th century, construction of the Trans-Siberian railway unearthed more magical stuff, again sent straight to royal hands. Keeping the entire archive of a culture in a private collection for two centuries, then having it fall behind an iron curtain for almost a century, is not a recipe for global awareness. Even in post-Soviet Russia, the only way to see this stuff was to seek it out in the Hermitage and ... fabulous as they are ... the Scythians probably don't make the Top 10 list in most tourist visits to that great museum.

Thus this treat, on loan mostly from the Hermitage, feels more like the discovery of a mystical race from a fantasy novel than "real history". Nomadic equestrian societies are, after all, a staple of fantasy fiction, from Tolkein's Riders of Rohan to Game of Thrones' Dothraki to David Edding's Algars. The Scythians would fit comfortably beside any of them, though probably trump them all in
their lush artistic sensibilities.

The most striking thing here is the gold work. All nomads are distinguished by carrying their wealth with them, but I've seen no more glorious example than the Scythians. They wore enormous golden belt buckles that told adventurous stories of hunts and mythology. There's magnificent jewellery: torques, earrings, pendants. They developed a clever production method to mass produce small, but beautifully detailed, golden images that could be sewn onto clothing like shimmering sequins. These all share an extraordinary ability to portray both animals and the human figure. Horses leap with energy, stags seem ready to toss their antlers, huntsmen are about to spring towards their prey. Curves are sinuous, definition sharp, gems set with fine precision. This stuff is extraordinary, and if the show was only about the gold, it would be enough.

But there's a whole world here. Siberian permafrost does as good a job of preservation as Egyptian sands. Thus we have beautifully preserved, modular furniture and cooking utensils. Beautiful woven cloth, stitched hides and furs. There's a pair of women's shoes with rich patterns in crystal and glass beads on the soles. If you spent your life in the saddle, or sitting around a campfire, why not show off the bottom of your feet? There's a teepee-style tent made to go with a charcoal brazier; Scythians evidently unwound their stresses by throwing hemp seeds onto the fire and sniffing the drugged fumes contained in the tent. They were also particularly fond of wine (trading the Greeks for it is part of what earned them Herodotus' notice), and the drinking horns and cups here are exquisite.

Unsurprisingly, the equestrian trappings, armour and weapons are impressive. The Scythians were
horse-borne warriors, after all. There's a particularly striking wooden helmet topper of a menacing dragon's head. If having a warrior riding at me at full pelt weren't horrifying enough, seeing this towering above him would scare me into immediate submission. They've even transported the massive wooden logs of a burial chamber here, the primeval size of the tree trunks adding to the mythic quality of it all.

Perhaps most striking are the human remains themselves. We come face to face with a real Scythian warrior, skin tremendously well preserved through permafrost mummification. Though his inner-workings of his limbs are long gone, his skin is spread flat here to show off his tattoo scheme. Whether on jewellery, utensils or themselves, these people loved pattern. Later on we come across particularly lifelike funerary masks.

 Rarely have I encountered a show that paints such a well-rounded picture of a whole people. My only complaint? No audio guide to add more depth to the experience. Given how little most of us know of the topic, a way for the public to dive more deeply into it seems a no-brainer. At least I got there early. Scythians: Ancient Warriors of Siberia is on at the British Museum until 14 January, so there's plenty of time for a return visit to learn more about this compelling society.