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Ben Franklin's Aphorisms Really Burn My Biscuits

Although it seems slightly blasphemous to admit it (Ben Franklin is a pretty big deal here in Philadelphia, and a fairly famous individual in general), I really can't stand Benjamin Franklin's aphorisms. Just because it sounds witty and vaguely inspirational doesn't automatically make whatever you say correct, even if you are old and famous, Ben! I don't care that you attended the Continental Congress or were a big name inventor/writer/politician/whatever else in the 18th century, you can still be wrong. My campus is practically carpeted in BFrank's aphorisms, and some of them (written/carved in places where I have to walk by them daily) are really starting to grate on my nerves. I'd really like to give Franklin a dose of reality.

Here are some that I think ought to be revised:

"Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise."

Okay, maybe you've got me on the healthy thing. Still, you'd definitely be wealthier if you worked late, a lifestyle which could hardly be supported by "early to bed." Also, what does sleep have to do with wisdom? You just threw that in there because it rhymed and things sound better in threes! This isn't terribly realistic. I mean, someone keeping this schedule wouldn't have much time for socialization or much leisure activities (assuming s/he were also working on the wealthy thing at the same time) if they were going to bed so early. Of course "healthy, wealthy, and wise" doesn't exactly include "socially satisfied, entertained, fulfilled, happy, etc.", does it?

"Little strokes, feel great oaks."

Franklin clearly doesn't know anything about the logging industry. Great big burly loggers felled oaks back in his days. These days, chainsaws fell oaks. That really puts a cramp in your metaphor, huh? Chainsaws fell oaks...and any other kind of tree- Boom, take that!

"Read much, but not too many books."

Really, Ben Franklin? I don't think you and the e-reader trend would get along. Are we just supposed to be reading and re-reading our well-worn copies of the Farmer's Almanack? You obviously didn't work very hard in college. These days we have to read books- lots of them.

Of course, for all my whining, Old BFranks does have some true gems:

"He that speaks ill of the mare, will buy her."

"People who are wrapped up in themselves make small packages."

Blast from the 19th-Century Past

I've been waiting all week to unleash this blast of 19th century stuff for the Words of the Moment, Artwork of the Week, and Quote of the Week! There's a whole theme- yay! I'm also really excited for this update because I haven't updated the sidebar stuff in a long time.

First up, the new Words of the Moment!

Obstreperous
[uhb-strep-er-uhs] Origin: 1590-1600
-adj. 1. Noisy, clamorous, or boisterous
2. Resisting control or restraint in a difficult manner.
The obstreperous party guests stayed well into the evening.

Shoat
[shoht] Origin: 1375-1425
-noun. A young, fattened pig
Personally, I like this word used as a 19th century insult.
The new Viscountess was a socially grasping, overindulged shoat.

Woolgathering
[wool-gath-er-ing] Origin: 1545-55
-verb. Indulgence in idle fancies and daydreaming; absentmindedness.
"Sorry, what was your question? I was woolgathering."

Next up, the new Artwork of the Week! This beauty is from Düsseldorf School great, Andreas Achenbach (1815-1910). Besides having an awesome name, Achenbach was well-known for mastering a natural look for waves (which you can see in the painting I chose for this week).

Clearing Up- Coast of Sicily, Andreas Achenbach, 1847. Oil on Canvas, Walters Museum.

Fun fact: this painting currently resides in the Walters Museum, and it was originally purchased in 1863 by Walters himself (well, Walters himself's dad).

And now, its time for the Quote of the Week. This quotable gem was gleaned from the 19th century journal I've been reading lately:

"As long as the indiscriminate admiration of Medieval Art continues, the road to immediate fame and perhaps to fortune consists in an almost service imitation of its peculiarities. It is, moreover, a very smooth and easy road. We may enter upon it with the smallest possible stock of acquirements. The powers of imitating all the subtler beauties of Nature, and which have cost so many great painters years of study and practice, are not only unnecessary, but would impede our progress."

-Professor Leslie's Lectures on Painting, Lecture II. Published in the Bulletin of the American Art-Union, No. 2 May 1850, p. 25

That's Really Going to Ruin Someone's Whole Day

When I think of 18th century royal courts, lots of things immediately spring to mind: grand palaces done up as ornately as humanly possible, huge poofy dresses (panniers and bustles!), and staid, slightly inbred folks with awesome titles, like the Duke and Duchess of Whatnot and the Baron and Baroness Blah d'Blah. I'm sure Peterhof Palace, in St. Petersburg, Russia, once had all those things, but it also had something else up its proverbial sleeves.

Construction of Peterhof palace was begun in the early 18th century by Peter the Great (hugely surprising, considering the name and all). Good old Peter, who I'm pretty sure had a personality disorder (seriously, look him up, Pete could be one nasty dude), had some palace envy for the grand fountains he had heard about in France (he'd never been to France, but heard they were snazzy, so of course he wanted some for himself). Thus, Peterhof palace has over a thousand fountains, ranging from the very impressive Samson. fountain (meant to symbolize Russia's victory over its rival, Sweden) to the devious trick fountains.

Two views of the Samson fountain. Upper: facing Peterhof palace (Grand Cascade). Lower: facing the Bay of Finland.

By the mid- to late- 18th century, the fountains and parks had expanded to its 1000+ fountain peak, and were impressing the courtly Russian masses (few). If you were a courtly lady/gentleman of the 18th century, stuffed into the overwarm entertaining halls for balls or dinners of state or kissing the Tsar's feet or whatever, wouldn't you want a nice refreshing walk in the gardens? Well, Personality-Disorder Peter is one step ahead f you. He thought it would be hilarious to have trick fountains installed throughout the park to drench unsuspecting courtiers (ah, those people of lower rank). One trick fountain looks like a circular bench, with an umbrella covering it for shade. As soon as someone sits on the bench, the "umbrella" starts dumbing out sheets of water, trapping people under it. Another one looks like a tree with benches and cobbles around it, but as soon as you step on one of the trigger stones, the tree starts shooting water crazily. If you try to escape by sitting on one of the benches, that might trigger a new fountain of water to come up from behind the bench, further drenching you.

Now, If I spent four hours being dressed and prepared every morning (early afternoon- courtiers weren't morning people), I would be pretty ticked off that some hydraulic engineer with a peevish sense of humor thought it would be funny to drench me and all my court finery. That stuff is mostly silk! Think of all the rubles wasted just so the Tsar can have a laugh at his courtiers expense (Are you starting to see what I was saying about the personality disorder? He also was afraid of high ceilings and liked to have people killed on a whim)! Court dress is nothing to sneeze at. Take this ensemble, on Empress Elizabeth Petrovna:

Elizabeth Petrovna, by Ivan Yakovlevich Vishnyakov, 1743.

The powdered wigs, the arsenic-laden cosmetics, the crinoline and layers of silk! All of it drenched and ruined by these sneaky trick fountains at Peterhof. You'd be out of courtly commission for at least the rest of the day (and you better hope you don't catch a cold- this is the 18th century we're talking about).

TV and the History Nerd

First off- I'm back from my crazy summer of travel! Expect some travel-related blog posts in the near future (I've got a mini photo-vacation  and a spotlight on some castles in the works). Now it's time to buckle down and get back to (semi) regular blogging.

By now, it should be pretty obvious that I watch entirely too much television (it's an addiction, I know...and I'm only making it worse with Netflix). Regardless, I feel the need to share one of my newest favorite TV shows: Dr. Who. Dr. Who is a BBC show (luckily available in its entirety on Netflix, and occasionally on BBC America). The premise of the show is that the main character (the Doctor) is a Time Lord (yeah, yeah, he's an alien, whatever) and basically zooms around time and space. In my opinion, it's a history nerd's dream show. There tends to be a lot of aliens, so you have to suspend your disbelief and just enjoy the show, but it's clever and quirky, and overall a great show. The last episode I watched, they ran into Vincent van Gogh (whose name, for reasons beyond my imagination,British people pronouns "van Goff". In the same season, they're fighting off evil aliens in 1580 Venice. In another episode, they're down in the War Rooms with Winston Churchill.

If you have a free moment and decide to watch it (and I highly suggest you do!), I'd say skip the first season. I don't like the actor who plays the Doctor in that one. There's not a lot of continuous plot, which means you can pretty much skip around episodes within each season without missing anything.

What makes me super happy about it show is that it's one of the most popular things on TV in the UK. So even with all of its aliens and time-traveling history-nerd-joyfulness, it is super popular and mainstream. I would tell you more about the show (about the TARDIS, sonic screwdriver, the Doctor's Companion), but it would all start to sound extremely nerdy to someone who hasn't seen it, so go watch it! I've included a picture of the tenth Doctor (David Tennant- start with this season), and the eleventh Doctor (Matt Smith- he's in the current season) to let you know you've got the right season. Happy watchings!

 David Tennant as the Doctor and Rose

Matt Smith as the Doctor and Amy

Future Archaeology...Just Doing My Part

I'm going to start this post off with a little scenario that I've cooked up, so just sit back and enjoy where my mediocre story-telling skills are taking you:

"Well, Jeremiah, what do you think it is?" "Um, well maybe its MM1a (Middle Modern 1a), professor?" "Jeremiah, do you read anything for this class? Of course it isn't MM, that's hundreds of years off. Clearly this falls into the EI2 (Early Ikea 2) time period. You can tell from the simplicity of the design and decoration, and the unique Swedish fabric of the ware. Yes, this is definitely Early Ikea." "But Professor, aren't all EI finds suppose to come in groups of eight?" "You should know by now that's a misconception. People thousands of years ago could have shared, or been very clumsy- that's a possible explanation for why we only have a partial set from this site." "Ooooh, I see. Is EI very rare?" "Not really, EI1 is pretty limited to finds only in Scandinavia, but we find EI2 all over the planet."

This dialogue came from some musing about what future archaeologists are going to name our pottery types (you know, how now we have EH- Early Helladic- and things like that, and how archaeologists now use types/styles of pottery to determine dates). Thinking about the pottery in my cupboards, I figure future archaeologists will be forced to name our period the Ikea Age.

Now, of course, future historians might look through that ancient moldering archive called the world wide web (since we all now that future people will be using a bigger, better, faster version of the internet, probably sponsored by Google) to look back and try to find information on our strange and distance culture. Who knows? Maybe even future academics might write their dissertations on the pervasiveness of Early Ikea 2 ware (of course, now I want to ask future archaeologists, "What does Late Ikea ware look like?! I want to know!"). Or not. I could be way off here. Maybe some time in the not-to-distant future we stop using ceramics altogether and future archaeologists will just call our time The End of Pottery...duh duh duuuunhn. What? It could happen!

A Solution for Starving Artists

Artists aren't well known for their overwhelming monetary success. Rather, they're more notorious for being impecunious (I'm studying for the GRE- that's one of the words I've learned). Today's general method of dealing with starving artists is somewhere between overall disregard and parental assistance (or artist communes). Like the last post, I dug up a cultural gem while researching (JSTOR fun time) recently. Some social welfare geniuses in France circa 1849 came up with the idea of starting a lottery for their benefit:

Bulletin of the American Art-Union, Gleanings from Foreign Journals (1849):

Lottery in aid of poor artists in France

A lottery has been established to aid the suffering circumstances of the numerous body of young and less talented artists, who have been plunged into adversity by the unsettled state of the country during the past year. It consists of 100,000 tickets, at two francs fifty centimes each, making a capital of 250,000 francs, to be expended in pictures, drawings, &c. There will be 3,000 prizes, varying in value from 5,000 francs to 10 francs each. Every prize-holder above the sum of 100 will receive with his picture the receipt of the artist for the same. The choice of works is made by a committee, as they will be better able to appreciate the necessities and ability of the candidates who desire to avail themselves of these means to sell their works.

I really like this idea. The artists are working, producing art, and the lottery helps connect them with potential patron. Plus, the tickets are only two and a half francs. (I'm really not sure how much that is, since I've never seen or used a franc...still two and a half of them can't be that much right?) Are there things around like this now? I would way rather enter in an art lottery than the lottery-lottery. No one wins the real lottery. Especially not me or other people I've ever met. But if there's only 100,000 tickets, there's a legitimate probability that I could win one of the 3,000 prizes (I would know, since I've been studying probability and other math I haven't done in years, for the sake of the GRE).