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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).

Unionize That!

Now, I don't know a ton about unions in general, but as far as I know (rather, knew), most unions have something to do with labor, workers, industry and that sort of thing. Like the teacher's union, steel worker's union, and so forth. Thinking about unions immediately puts into me into a late 19th century- early 20th century frame of mind; you know, restricting child labor, protecting factory workers, etc.

However, in working on a side project, I've just come across and entirely different kind of union. Apparently mid-19th century spawned art unions, like the American Art Union (whose monthly members publication I've been reading). The purpose of this type of unions, as far as I can tell, is to give up-and-coming artists a chance and to provide some place for them to display their work. For the low, low cost of $5 a year (in 1849, since that;'s the year I've gotten up to in their publication...maybe dues went up later), you could join the American Art Union. You don't have to be American or an artist necessarily, just a person with 5 dollars. The Union takes all of these dues and uses them to publish a journal, to but or borrow new paintings for their New York gallery (which was free to the public!), and to commission a painting. For your 5 dollars, you get the monthly bulletin (which is some quality reading, let me tell you), a mini copy of the year's painting, and a raffle entry to win the painting (one for every 5 dollars you pay in). In flush years, members might even get a bronze medal for their trouble.

It's a cool idea, and it certainly worked for the American Art Union. In 1839, they had 814 members. By 1848, they were up to 16,475 members. That year, they raked in $85,134.28. Not bad at all. Still, it seems like a weird kind of union. I suppose an interest in art is the underlying common thread between all of the members, but it just doesn't feel right to me. There is only a small board of central committee members/overseers- no general nation-wide organizational structure. The biggest benefit of membership seems to be a raffle ticket- the Union doesn't fight for artists rights or anything like that (that being said, I would totally pay 5 dollars to enter in a raffle for a painting). It doesn't seem serious enough to me. All teachers have to join the teacher's union (okay, all public school teachers, but still that's the vast majority), but these art unions seem to be a lackadaisical, just-for-fun sort of thing. Certainly, not all American artists joined the American Art Union; not all gallery owners, art professionals, appreciators, etc. were members. So maybe calling themselves a union was a bit of wishful thinking- maybe they were more of a "club"?

Later Addition: For people who like pictures, I dug this up from the May 1849 Bulletin of the American Art-Union:

Fun Words Starting with P!

Extra points for you if you already knew these words.

Pusillanimous 
[pyoo-suh-lan-uh-muhs] Origin: 1580-90
-adj. Cowardly
He is so pusillanimous that he is afraid to leave the house.

Poltroon
[pol-troon] Origin: 1520-30
-noun. A wretched coward; craven
-adj. Marked by utter cowardice
You evil poltroon! (I really like this word as an insult)

Postprandial 
[pohst-pran-dee-uhl] Origin: 1810-20
-adj. After a meal, usually dinner
I'm always ready for a postprandial snooze.

Sacking A City: Do It Right, Or Not At All

If you’re an invading horde, or massively successful conqueror or an army commander after vengeance, it might be handy to know how to really sack a city, and to sack it good. Of course, there’s always the standard pillaging (take all the treasure, antiquities, etc.), which has been done a lot (like Constantinople by the Crusaders). There’s also the equally frequent (and effective) burning to the ground, like say, at Troy. But I mean, if you’re really gonna sack a city, you have to go all out and get creative.

Best example of a truly thorough sacking of a city? Carthage circa 146BC. Those Romans not only defeated the city militarily (okay, it took them two years), but they also burned and basically leveled the city. Furthermore, legend has it (and some 19th century historians) that the Romans salted the earth, so that it couldn't support life. Even if its a bit impractical (carting large doses of salt peter around is probably more effort than its worth, plus you can't just occupy the city after you've salted it to death, can you?), that’s thinking outside of the box.

So the moral of the story is that if you want to sack a city thoroughly, do something really rotten, like ruin their ability to grow food for the foreseeable future. Then again, if you yourself want to actually use the city post-defeat, you probably shouldn’t turn it to dust. You could be like the Ostrogoths in Ravenna, and just keep everything nice and pretty, in the hopes of making you seem less like a barbarian. After all, rebuilding or starting a new city is expensive. So if you're feeling particularly vindictive, go ahead and sack a city; but if you're not going to really do it right, don't bother at all (unless its an ugly city...in which case I suggest razing it to the ground and starting over...unless you have no aesthetic skills, in which case...oh never mind).

Fresh New Artwork of the Week!

As much as I love the internet, exhibition catalogues and other conveniences, you really can't beat a museum. The wonderful thing about museums is that you can see an object in person, which really makes a world of difference. For instance, I once wrote in a paper about a faience monkey figurine with a cartouche of some Egyptian pharaoh (Ramesses maybe? It was a while ago). Even with a black-and-white picture of the thing, I barely recognized it when I stumbled upon the thing in person. Who knew the "miniature" in its description meant "so small its barely visible"?! I wrote about that thing?! Man, I really don't think I had any idea what I was working with, back when I wrote that paper. How was I supposed to know?

On a different note, the new Artwork of the Week comes from the same museum as the little faience monkey figurine (in Nafplio, Greece). This week's "artwork" stretches the usual definition of art, since it is also a practical object. But you have to admit, something like this requires quite a bit of craftsmanship. Perhaps you're wondering what I'm talking about? Alright, fine, I'll tell you.

This week's artwork is a Mycenaean-era bronze suit of armor from Dendra.

Bronze suit of armor, 1400 BC, Dendra, Nafplio Archaeological Museum, Nafplio, Greece

If you think about it, this is truly amazing. Someone, thousands of year ago, actually wore this. Can you imagine that? Look at the size of it! It is a giant metal dress! How would someone have ever fought in that? (Granted, this one was probably just for the burial of a Mycenaean warrior and likely never saw battle.) Several things about this, besides its size and weight: 1) look at that skirt! How do you march to battle in a banded knee-length metal skirt? The design of this armor doesn't seem to take into consideration how real people actually move, and 2) either Mycenaeans had really long necks, or such tragically bad eyesight that covering up their faces didn't matter. The big cylindrical neck of that armor is really high.

I'm still wondering how anyone could have managed hand-to-hand combat in armor like this. It is hot, heavy, and rather inflexible. Still, it is truly amazing. Even more amazing is that it survived thousands of years. It makes me admire the Mycenaeans (even more). And you should admire them too, for their brash, warrior-loving, insane armor-making selves.

Showers Should not be this Complicated

 

Showers are not terribly complicated from a mechanical standpoint. The technology that works them hasn’t changed all that much since it was invented a few hundred years ago. This being true, why on earth are showers so difficult in Europe? First off, there’s the dreaded “handshower”, you know, where the showerhead is has the little hose and isn’t attached at the top of the shower? If it just had the hose and an attachment high up, it would be all fancy, but since it doesn’t, you have to do all the aiming and have nowhere to put the showerhead besides the floor otherwise. You can never relax because you always have to be holding the showerhead, otherwise its showering water all over the place.

The handshower makes the next peculiarity of European showers particularly insensible: no shower curtain. Why? Seriously, I cannot think of a good reason not to have a shower curtain. Do Europeans just really like to get their whole bathroom wet when they shower? Its not like the shower curtain is a super-modern or expensive item either, so I don’t know what’s holding them back. They have regular curtains, like for windows and such, so clearly they are aware of the concept. We can keep the sun out our rooms, but not the water out of the bathroom? It doesn’t make any sense!

Now some showers do have curtains, but they’re so flawed as to be useless. For instance, one of the shower curtains I’ve encountered was about three and a half feet long and about five and a half feet off the ground (and hung from a curtain rod just outside the shower). What then, is the purpose of this? Its hardly blocking any water, and what it does catch drips off of it right into the main part of the bathroom. Why bother at all then?

Another baffling feature of European showers is that some aren’t at all differentiated from the rest of the room. Not only don’t they have a curtain, but they also don’t have anything on the floor, like a little ledge to keep water from running into the main part of a bathroom. Is this a personal preference this? Are there really just a bunch o Europeans who enjoy that flooded-bathroom feeling after every shower? Sometimes I hear people tell me that they want to move to Europe and become European, but if this is their attitude about showering (which should be a really uncomplex issue), I’ll keep my luxurious American bathrooms, thanks.

The Trouble With Time Zones

Written from Greece (and with a computer that keeps trying desperately to change my writing into Greek font):

The biggest issue with time zones is that the second I leave my usual zone, I have no idea what time it really is. Usually, when in the United States, it isn't so bad, because my phone (bless you, technology) usually updates immediately to the proper time. However, when traveling farther afield, like say...maybe Greece... I'm completely lost. This far out of its comfort zone, my phone can take days to "automatically" change to the correct time. I could change it myself manually, but then I'd actually have to know what time it is myself, which is the whole reason I need the clock on the phone anyways.

Now, of course, I could be old school, and use my watch like a normal person. But that is in Philadelphia time... which I'm not in anymore. Using the power of google, I determined that I am 7 hours ahead... Shouldn't be too hard then to figure out the time, right? Wrong. I can't do anything that involves numbers with any degree of certainty. So sure seven hours difference. So off I go to calculating and I get... 1:45am. Yeah...that should be fine...right? Hrm, well its a weird time, since its sunny out, and it really doesn't feel like the middle of the night. Must have done my time calculations in the wrong direction.

Then that's only half the problem. When I finally get everything set in Greece-time, I still have to figure out what time it is in the States so I can talk to my friends and family. But wait! They're in two different time zones, three hours apart. And then I'm completely lost.

Since I'm not a sun dial, its hard to me to accurately figure out what time it is. Yes, night = dark and day = light, but 11am and 4pm look pretty much the same when it comes down to it. I need to be like NASA with three different clocks displaying the different time zones I need to think about, to save me from my own calculation errors.

Certainly, it wouldn't do at all to just abolish time zones altogether, but there has got to be a better way than this madness! Everyone on the planet experiencing different times all at once? When you think about it, its kind of weird. And also, if you get a good look at a map with the time zone lines on it, that stuff is whack. Russia is split up every two hours instead of every one hour, India is on the half hour when all of its neighbors are one the hour, and the lines meander crazily about the map. Shouldn't they just be straight and uniform? Granted, I'm an idiot when it comes to numbers, but it seems like there's a lot of ways for a lot of people to get confused here.

New Everything of the Week 5.15.2011

It's Sunday, which means that it is time for a new Artwork and Quote of the Week! I've even got two new Words of the Moment to spice things up as well. Since I'll be out of the country for the next few Sundays, you might see these Things of the Week for a bit longer than a week- it can't really be helped.

For the Artwork of the Week (possibly several weeks), I've picked another Flemish Master (I remember there being one before, maybe a month or two ago). There's just something about those incredibly detailed 15th century paintings that gets me every time.

Annunciation, Jan van Eyck. 1434/36. National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.

There are a lot of really amazing details in this painting. Look at the floor tiles! Each one of them has its own scene! Or the rainbow wings on Gabriel (or the incredible fabric of his robes). Check out the gorgeous architecture of the church in the background. There is so much going on in the painting, but it doesn't main point of the image. Anyways, I really like this one, so I hope everyone likes it too!

Now, for the Quote of the Week, I've got something from a book I read last week:

"Organizational skill is the boring gift of the untalented."

-Rosalind, One Perfect Rose, by Mary Jo Putney

That quote is for my brother, who was graced with most of the cool talents (artistic skill, mastery of mathematics), when I got stuck with the boring skills (spelling, organization). I'm always jealous of people with cool talents, like my brother, and every person on the planet who can sing well, or play an instrument, etc.

As for the Words of the Moment, I've got two new ones: salubrious and scurrilous.

Salubrious (suh-loo-bree-uhs)

adj. Favorable or promoting health.

Origin 1540/50

Vegetables and exercise are salubrious.

Scurrilious (skur-uh-luhs)

adj. 1) grossly or obscenely abusive 

2) characterized by or using low buffoonery

Origin 1570/80

I think of this word as relating more to bad guys in dark alleys.

Rasputin carried out his scurrilous plot to assassinate the royal family.

The Evolution of the Kilt

There once was a time when people wore skirts. All people, not just women. Thinking back, probably some of the first people to popularize the kilt variety of manskirt are the Egyptians (arguably, they are far from the first civilization with men who totally worked the loincloth or tunic look). Fashionable Egyptians (including many a pharoah) wore the "shendyt" (call it what you want, ancient dudes: it's still a manskirt) for hunting, combat, and other extremely manly activities. The shendyt usually came to above the knees (mini-manskirt), and extra-special pharaoh versions tend to have a big triangular part in front. Here's a lovely picture of Pharaoh Ramesses III (he's one of the coolest- if anyone ask, say he fought the mysterious Sea People) rocking his manskirt:

Ramesses III offering a sphinx, Sanctuary of Khonsu Temple, Karnak, Egypt

The shendyt is a fairly practical garment for ancient Egypt: lightweight for the hot weather and apparently great for the freedom needed for manly outdoor activities. So... it makes sense that they would wear them. But, you wear where kilts don't make sense? Probably the most well-known home of the manskirt: the Scottish Highlands. It is cold and rainy there, and any girl can tell you that is bad weather for a skirt. The Scottish kilt apparently originated in the 1500s (which shocks me- I thought they'd been around since at least the 1300s, but I guess not). Originally, they were one long piece of plaid fabric that served as kilt/skirt plus some extra to throw over your shoulder. Eventually this evolved into just the skirt-only version we're more familiar with. Here's another fabulous photo, this time of a Highland soldier in his "great kilt" (as opposed to the later skirt-only version):

Highland soldier 1744

The Scottish are definitely best known for their kilts, but the old tradition has gone decidedly trendy. Believe it or not, a small segment of the American male population have decided they need more manskirts in their life. I believe the trend originated in Seattle with the invention of "Utilikilts", which is a camo/cargo-pocketed version of the Scottish staple. They're also a bit longer, covering the wearer's knees (good thing?). I feel more than a little creepy looking for photos to show you (they don't do ad campaigns, so the only pictures are of "real wearers", and that's just too weird for me), so you'll have to google to yourself if you're dying to know what the modern manskirt looks like.

Ed. Note: Sorry there haven't been posts in the last few days- Blogger has been down! But it's back up and I'll be posting for another week! After that, I'll be gone for a month- reminder to let me know if you want to guest-blog!

John Cabot Isn't English?!

Sometimes you discover something that completely undermines your historical assumptions. This is one of those times. I always thought English explorer John Cabot was English... but no!!! John Cabot, like most of the other early world explorers is Italian!

Of course, the first thing that pops into my mind is: "Since when is anyone Italian ever named John Cabot?" But history books have been lying to you on this one too! John Cabot's real name is Giovanni Gabato (sounds much more Italian, doesn't it?)! The English just decided to pretend he was English and completely Anglicized his name. I mean, this is the man who discovered the territory that would become the Thirteen Colonies for the English!

Now, the whole Cabot thing is definitely a complete surprise for me (John Cabot isn't English! I'm still trying to reconcile myself to this fact), but there are of course lots of other Italian explorers who set off on their grand adventures for other countries. For instance, Christopher Columbus, who is from Genoa, navigated the seas and discovered the New World for Spain. How about Amerigo Vespucci, from whose name we get "America"? Also Italian. More Italians: Giovanni da Verrazzano (explored the New World for France), Pietro di Brazza (explored Africa for France).

Moral of the story: John Cabot is Italian, not English!

My Tirade Against Pens

I know people like pens,  but I kind of think they're a menace. After all, what good can a pen do that a pencil can't? Pencils overall are much better, I think (mechanical pencils especially). You know why I love mechanical pencils? Because they can erase. Sometimes I make mistakes when I am writing, and its pretty embarrassing when you can't erase. Think about it: with a pencil, when you mess up, you just erase and write whatever it was correctly- even if you mess up again, you can just erase and have a do over. With a pen, you have to cross it and write again, which really only brings more attention to the fact that you can't write. No good at all. For instance, I really dislike being told I have to use pen on an exam, because when I get all stressed (as tends to happen in exams), and I have to think quickly, my writing goes to heck in a handbasket (my dad's phrase, borrowed, I think, from a bumper sticker). It would be great to just erase little spelling, grammatical, etc. errors, but nooooo. Instead I'm writing with a pen, which means I have to scratch it out and make a mess of my blue book.

Another thing: you can't use a pen in a museum. Because they tend to mark things in a pretty permanent manner, a lot of museums forbid you from using a pen if you're going to be anywhere near artifacts. And why do anything that would make you forbidden to hang out with artifacts? Just another reason pencils are better.

Furthermore, you can't shade with pens, which is bad for doodles, drawings, etc. Another point for pencils.

Also: pens eventually run out of ink, which is really annoying (especially if you're in the middle of a test, because then you have to go and ask for another pen, even though you are clearly holding one in your hand- but of course it doesn't work because it is out of ink!). Mechanical pencils (the true winner of all pencils) don't really have this problem. When they run out of lead, you just open them up and add more- its brilliant.

You know why else I don't like pens? People click them. And clicky pens? Probably one of the most irritating things ever. And people sometimes don't even realize they're doing it, so as the constantly clicking is slowly driving you into madness, they keep on blithely clicking along. Aaaaagh (I swear I'm not losing it... okay, finals might be getting to me).

One final thing I like about pencils. When you find a mechanical pencil you like, its pretty much a sure thing that there are several million more of them out there. So if you lose it, or it gets borrowed by some kid who never gives it back (hey kid, you have my pencil, don't think I forgot), you can always get another pack of 20 identical pencils. But pens? Ooooh no. You find that one pen you like, and no other pen is really like it. Doesn't quite feel the same, doesn't quite write the same. No two pens are ever completely alike, so when one gets "borrowed" or you lose it (or it runs out of ink), you've lost your favorite pen forever.

So now that I've written way more than I intended on the topic of pens v. pencils, I hope that you agree: pencils are far superior to pens. Of course, if you disagree, that's fine too, since pens really aren't that much of a contentious subject. Honestly, if you really want to stick to pens, that's totally cool for me. More pencils for me anyways.

Finals Season

Its Finals Season...alternately known as Term Paper Season. If anyone wonders why I haven't blogged in the last few days, I humbly apologize and offer up finals as my excuse. I've read so many early 20th century newspapers for one term paper that I've forgotten how to properly use a comma (early 20th century newspaper articles: fun to read, but they really don't bother with grammar). I've visited the library website so many times (I figure that if I keep searching the library database, it will eventually find more useful books) that I really should give up my pride and bookmark it on my computer. My room is no longer my room, instead it is merely my command center, where I research and write (with occasional/frequent breaks for food).

Now, I'm generally as serious as anyone else is about studying/exams/papers, but I've really gone crazy for one of my papers. After a month researching and writing the first draft, I submitted it to my professor, eagerly awaiting her praise. Finally, she returned my draft back to me and I read her comments. She hated it- her comments tore my precious paper to shreds. Normally, this would hurt briefly and then I'd get over it, edit the paper a bit, submit a final draft, and never think about the paper again. But this paper was on the Middle Ages...and art....I like those things...I like thinking I'm pretty good at writing about those things. My professor's criticism cut deep. So now, I'm on the warpath. This paper will be the best thing she's ever read, or else. No stone will go unturned in my research (and by stones, I mean books...and by "no stone", I mean "no stone that isn't written in French, because I can't read French"). How serious am I? Real serious. I have even read all of these (plus another one that was sitting open and I forgot to grab):

If you are looking for one of these books...sorry that I'm hording them. I should be done with them soonish. In that pile are books from 7 different libraries, at schools all across the Northeast. I refuse to let my professor say that there isn't enough secondary (or primary for that matter) research in my beast of a term paper. Sunny weather be darned- I am hunkered down in my command center ignoring all distractions (except of course blogging, but since I haven't posted in two days, I sort of have to, right?) Anyways, back to work!

That's the command center...my desk was too small to fit all of the books I needed. Anyways, good luck to all the people out there who are still studying to exams and writing papers like there's no tomorrow! Summer will come soon enough. And to those of you who have finished their tests and papers already and who are currently enjoying summer? I'm secretly really, really jealous of you.

Important News and A Mediterranean Vacation

Dear Readers,

Later this month (May 20th), I'll be leaving for the distant land of Greece. I'll be working there for a month, during which time my internet access will be sketchy at best (and international phone service is always iffy). Subsequently, I will not be able to blog May 21st- June 18th. I promise you all some excellent posts when I arrive back in the United States (and I won't even overload you with Mycenaean stuff- which is what I'm doing in Greece). I thought I'd let you all know now, before I forget to say it, then everyone will wonder if I just quit blogging all of a sudden. No fears- I am here now and I will be back.

Since there's still some time before I leave, and I hate to leave the blog barren for a full month, I'd like to pose a question to you all: is there anyone who would like to guest-blog for the month? Maybe only once, maybe once a week, maybe whenever they feel like it. If the idea interests you, reply in the comments- I'm happy to have someone guest-blog whilst I am away!

Now, since it is finals, I am once again in the mood for a mini-vacation. But of course, since it is finals (and I have no money), it will have to be an imaginary vacation. For so today's post, I'll add a photo vacation to the Mediterranean (it was going to be just to Greece, since that seemed relevant, but as I was digging through some old vacation photos, I decided I liked some of the other ones better). The good news is that you don't even have to pack or pay for airfare, just sit back, relax, and prepare your eyes for this visual vacation:

 Sorrento, Italy

Capri, Italy

 Erechtheion, Acropolis, Athens, Greece

 Mykonos, Greece

 Mykonos, Greece

 Mykonos, Greece

 Old City, Rhodes, Greece

Library at Celsius, Ephesos, Turkey

Ignoring the fact that I clearly avoid taking pictures with people in them and don't take any notice of wonky horizon lines, I hope you enjoyed today's photo vacation!

New Artwork and Quote of the Week- Plus a Whole Brand New Feature!

For this week's artwork, I went with something a little older than usual. I decided to kick it up in the Neolithic today and go with Stonehenge. Stonehenge sits in the Salisbury Plain (I am under the impression they make delicious steaks there), which is in southern England. It is also a UNESCO World Heritage site- one of the first to be put on the list. Also, did you know that the Queen technically owns Stonehenge? True fact, although why she wants it, I'm not entirely sure. She's lot lots of lovely crowns, castles, and other nice things already.

Anyways, archaeologists determined that Stonehenge was built in three major stages. Stonehenge 1 was started as early as 3100BC, which is firmly in the Neolithic period. The second phase dates from around 3000BC, although you can no longer see these parts today. Stonehenge 3 (parts I-V) are from 2600BC- 1600BC, and make up mostly what we see today.

Stonehenge, Salisbury Plain, England. 3100BC-1600BC

Many uses for Stonehenge have been proposed, although the immense number of burials around the site indicate it served a community/cultural burial purpose. It also likely served as a cultic spot, something to the with the sun, moon, stars, etc. as very, very many people have noted (those Druids were some serious party people). Despite a number of claims made in a variety of History Channel specials, it is highly unlikely that aliens had anything to with Stonehenge. (Yes, it is amazing that such gigantic stones were placed there, however, carrying large rocks is not an impossible task for humans. Case in point: the pyramids. All pyramids.)

For this week's quote, I'm going to use something I came across while researching for a paper (welll, technically while trying to find citation information for my paper). Some brilliant copyright lawyer decided to write this:

All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian.
Copyright MCMIX, by A. Conan Doyle

-from the Copyright page of Arthur Conan Doyle's The Crime of the Congo (1909)

"The Scandinavian"? There's such a thing as Scandinavia, but various Scandinavian people speak various languages. There isn't one single Scandinavian language... Well, also- shouldn't "foreign languages" pretty much include everything already? Unless "the Scandinavian" isn't a language...? Just thought I'd share that gem with everybody for the Quote of the Week.

Starting this week, I'm going to add another special thing (eventually I will clutter that sidebar beyond all recognition)- I'm adding a Word of the Moment. It is of the moment, not the week, so I can/will change it as often as I want (or as little as I want), depending completely on my mood. This section is in honor of my little brother, who knows many words, but not so many definitions (love ya, Nick). For this week, I picked "vitriolic", because I like how it sounds and have trouble getting the spelling correct.

Vitriolic (vɪtrɪˈɒlɪk) -adj.
1. (of a substance, esp. a strong acid) highly corrosive
2. severely bitter or caustic; virulent: vitriolic criticism
 
Example: Mark Twain's opinion on King Leopold's actions in the Congo Free State are evident in his vitriolic work, King Leopold's Soliloquy.

The Definition for Nick: Basically, super mean criticism. Like if I got really mad and started insulting you, that would be vitriolic.

Turn of the Century Newspapers; Yay for Yellow Journalism

You know how sometimes people say that "kids say the darnedest things"? Well, I think early 20th century newspapers have kids beat any day of the week. After spending my Friday and Saturday trolling through historical newspaper archives (oh term papers, how I love thee...NOT), I came across some of the weirdest articles ever put in print. I'm pretty sure that they could publish anything that struck their fancy back then, no matter how ridiculous.

For instance, one article I was reading talked about how a particular colonial government in Africa (we'll call it the Belgian Congo for the sake of fun) had hired 20,000 native cannibals to eat people who misbehaved or didn't meet their work quotas. Belgian Congo was pretty bad, (think random killings and amputations) but cannibals is a bit sensationalist. Another article I was reading about the King of Belgium (circa 1904) called the man a "King of the Stage Door Johnnies". What does that even mean? (Further inquiry reveals that it means something along the lines of "a man who waits at the back door of theaters for loose women".) But seriously, insulting the reigning monarch of a European nation right in the title of your news article? That's bold. I mean, I feel like today we would never have anything like "Floozy Queen Across the Pond" or "President Whatever of that Lame Country" in the New York Times. You really could get away with printing anything you felt like writing- the more out there and incendiary the better!

I say hoorah for yellow journalism and ridiculous. Most of what I end up reading for class is very boring, so its nice to have a dash of the ridiculous thrown in there just to liven up my many hours spent researching.

Then again, maybe times were just naturally more interesting back then. For instance, one article I was reading about the evil King Leopold II of the Belgians (quite a bad guy, honestly) was right next to a completely separate article about how an army officer gallantly attempted to bust the Princess Louis out of an insane asylum, which her husband had incarcerated her in. Need I add that the valiant army officer was madly in love with the Princess and trying to save her from her awful fate? Oh 1906, why can't the news be like that now? Maybe that is why print newspapers are going out of business- because they are all boring and polite. Spice things up! Yellow journalist worked back then (case in point, William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer), why wouldn't it work now?

Rainy Day? Watch a Movie...One of these Movies

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I always feel like one of the most fun things to do on a rainy day (ahh, April showers...) is to curl up on the couch with some hot cocoa. On the other hand, sitting on a sofa sipping cocoa (or tea, or whatever you're into) and staring at the ceiling/wall gets boring for some people. For them, I suggest a nice book or movie. And since this is a blog about history (you know, when I occasionally write about things that are relevant to history), I want to pick out some of my favorite historical-type movies. They're a real grab bag/ mixed-up bunch, so feel free to pick whatever suits your needs (kids' movie, sad movie, comedy, etc.).

The King and I (1956): An awesome Rodgers and Hammerstein musical about the king of Siam and a British schoolteacher in the 1860s. I love the songs in the movie, I love the characters, I love the storyline. There are more modern versions, but I definitely recommend this one, because it is by far the best. Watch if you're in the mood for a musical.

The Young Victoria (2009): Watch if you're in the mood for something moving. It tells the story of a young Queen Victoria (okay not that surprising with the title and all), and how she meets her future husband (although I managed to forgot the actual historical fact that she married him when I was watching the movie and got all concerned she would pick someone else... not to ruin the plot or anything). It's incredibly well-done, but be prepared for some heart wrenching at the end.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975): Yes, it is ridiculous. However, it is very funny. If you haven't seen it, then you should definitely watch it- even if only to understand a variety of inside jokes stemming from the film. If you haven seen it, then watch it again!

Tristan and Isolde (2006): Starring James Franco (before he was famous- you might not even recognize him!) as a besotted English knight in love with an Irish princess who's been married off to the knight's lord. The story itself originated over a thousand years ago and is very Romeo and Juliet-ish. If you're looking for something romantic, but at a different pace than Young Victoria, this is a good pick.

Girl with a Pearl Earring (2003): I found this movie kind of unsettling, but maybe its a good one to tackle on a rainy day. Its about the Dutch painter Vermeer and stars Colin Firth and Scarlett Johansson. But since its about a Dutch master, and I've been neglecting the art side of this blog, I'll go ahead and pick it anyways. At least if you watch it, you'll end up feeling like you know more about Vermeer (no one will know you "learned" about him in a movie).

 A Knight's Tale (2001): Full of great rock music, and not nearly as dreary as many period films. This movie doesn't take itself too seriously and is fun to watch. Not terribly historically accurate, but a fun and funny choice.


Far and Away (1992): Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise star in this movie as Irish immigrants moving to America. This one is a bonus for US history buffs (Oklahoma land rush, anyone?).

Shanghai Noon (2002): Hilarious comedy with Jackie Chan and Owen Wilson. Full of really great immature jokes and possibly some history in there. Perfect if you're in the mood to see Jackie Chan cause accidental injury to himself and Owen Wilson make jokes about the Wild West. More fun for the American history people (sometimes all those British dramas get you down).

Memoirs of a Geisha (2005): This movie is beautiful, but very sad. Make sure you're really in the mood for it before you watch it, and maybe have some tissues on hand. It's about a girl growing up in Japan and being trained as a geisha. This movie shows the interesting clash between old and new in 20th century Japan as the result of WWII (and other factors).

Newsies (1992): Possibly my favorite movie ever made. This movie is about the 1899 newsboy strike in New York. Also, it is a musical (sorry, they're my favorite genre- note that I've mostly spared you from Disney movies and musicals in this list). It's upbeat and fun, and not a bad movie at all. Plus, a young Christian Bale sings- in a New York accent.

TV Series Honorable Mentions: The Tudors (of course), Pillars of the Earth (technically an 8-part miniseries), Manor House (a British documentary that sends people back in time- really!), Downton Abbey (a 7-part miniseries about British aristocracy in 1912)

Period Pieces I Strongly Suggest You Skip: Clash of the Titans (2010), Kingdom of Heaven (2005), Casanova (2005), Marie Antoinette (2006)

Happy movie watching!

Flight Attendant Humor

The newest thing in air travel is "humorous" flight attendants (don't believe it? I just spent approx. 15 hours on a variety of airplanes with a variety of flight attendants who thought they were funny). Now, I certainly am not against a little humor being injected into my day,  but I'm not really sure I want my laughs in flight attendant form.

I mean, first off, I'm only on an airplane because I mean to do business- traveling business. No one just hops a plane for the entertainment value of it all. If I wanted a quick laugh, I have YouTube for that. Second, I'm not really sure how much human interaction I want on the airplane. One measly flight attendant joke is the first step to me being stuck talking to an elderly woman for the rest of the six hour flight (It isn't fun...and you can't ignore them because you are forced to stay there, trapped in your seat...listening to an old lady talk about her fifteen thousand grandchildren...for the whole flight... Avoid eye contact!)

Humor is also a trciky thing (that flight attendants should leave well enough alone), because not everyone takes everything the same way. One flight attendant might make a ridiculously cheesy joke that has you rolling your eyes and thinking "please, please take the microphone away from her... my electronic devices aren't approved for another twenty minutes, so I can't tune this absurdity out with my ipod." On the other hand, the jokey flight attendant might just snark at all the passengers under a guise of humor, which is no fun either (this is what my flight attendant did all day yesterday). Sarcasm and dry humor are cool and all, but not really when you're on an airplane and the person making fun of you is your flight attendant. (You wouldn't be allowed to snark at her, why does she get to make fun of us?)

Moral of the story: leave the jokes to the captain (because no one can argue with him- he's flying the plane, plus he's all cooped up in the cockpit and none of us will see him). I appreciate the attempt to amuse passengers from the flight attendant (sort of? not really),  but it's just not what I'm looking for in my cross-country flight.

Leaving on a Jet Plane... and Age-ism

I remember that song from hearing it at camp a bunch of times... but I always thought it was sad because John Denver sings it...and didn't reach his demise in an airplane crash- so he actually did leave on a jet plane (don't know if I'll come back again)? And that just makes it sad.

Anyways- I will be away Friday-Sunday, so I will be remiss in my blogging. Many apologies to people who read! You are out there, right? Probably...maybe? Anyways, I promise to jump back in on Monday with a new Artwork and Quote of the Week. Maybe I'll even find something interesting to write about while I'm in Las Vegas. (Clearly the best choice of destinations for the Easter holiday. Quick- can you name the seven deadly sins? Now do it in Latin! Go!)

On a side note- did you know you have to be 18 to buy cold medicine? I got IDed at the CVS (its a drugstore, for those of you reading from the West Coast) the other day. The CVS clerk is harassing me about my ID and all I can think is: "Honestly? My nose is running, I've sneezed four times since I entered the store, I can't stop coughing and my voice sounds funny from me being all congested- what do you think I'm up to buying cold medicine? Probably just trying to get rid of my cold! I'm not cooking up drugs or anything, sheesh. Leave me alone, I'm just sick- I'm not about to peddle cold remedies to "underage" 17 year olds." Need I mention it was Theraflu? Its not like I even was trying to buy pills. Theraflu is a powder you add to water to make Flu-tea...I wouldn't know how to cook that into its druggie constituent parts even if I wanted to (which I don't). I just want some relief from my cold/flu. Sheesh. The US is such an age discriminatory place. Apparently you can't even buy cold medicine until you're 18. And of course, one of my biggest peeves- you can't rent a car in the US until you are 25 (seriously? I will have been driving for 9 years at that point, sheesh). In order to rent the really nice cars at rental places, you have to be even older- one of the cars you had to be 41 years old. You could practically be President before they'd let you rent this car. What is the world coming to???

You Know What's Cool? Siege Machines.

Okay, war and war-related stuff usually isn't my thing, but this snazzy invention is a pretty cool solution to the problem of fortifications. I was watching the movie Kingdom of Heaven yesterday (really bad movie- I recommend NOT watching it. Orlando Bloom really cannot carry a movie by himself), and the only redeeming thing about the movie was the interesting Medieval battle scenes. Historical inaccuracies aside, at one point, the city of Jerusalem is being besieged by Saladin's forces and they use these awesome siege machines/towers.

Now, I don't know about you, but in my imagination, Medieval fortifications are really tough to get past- I mean that was the whole point of fortifications anyways, wasn't it? Once they started incorporating flaming trebuchets and stuff (and later, explosives and guns), it made it way easier to break into giant, well-fortified castles, but before then, castles must have seemed almost impenetrable, right? Well, my imagination forgot to consider siege machines, which really are a brilliant answer to the problem of high stone walls.

So what is it? A siege machine is a big rolling tower with troops on it. The attacking army rolls it up the the fortified walls and when it gets close enough, releases a wooden bridge-type thing from the top of the tower. The attacking troops then stream across the bridge and into the fortified castle/city. Brilliant! The craziest part is that Medieval people didn't think this up- siege machines have been around since the 9th century BC! The first recording of siege machines is in Assyria, from approx. 865-860BC.

Assyrian siege machine, 865-860 BC. British Museum.

Because they worked so well, everybody and their cousin used to use siege machines. In addition to the Assyrians, ancient Chinese people, Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Medieval English people, and both sides in the Crusades all used siege towers in their various wars and conflicts.

19th century drawing of a Medieval English siege machine.

I'm thinking that pretty much the only thing that could stop a siege machine would be...a moat. Kind of hard to roll over that, huh? You'd have to build a bridge over the moat in order to get your siege machine past. Or you could build your castle on the side of a cliff or a mountain, which would also make it hard to roll a siege machine.

Regardless, I definitely think that siege machines are one of the coolest things ever- and they must have worked pretty well if they were used by tons of different cultures over thousands of years.

Historical Hotties: Empress Matilda/Maude

Empress Matilda (also known as Matilda of England or Maude- I prefer Maude) is a pretty awesome historical hottie in my opinion. She predates Eleanor of Aquitaine (who I wrote about a while ago) by a generation or two- maybe this is where Eleanor got all of her ideas?

Maude/Matilda is the granddaughter (and last heir) of William the Conqueror. Her dad was King Henry I of England, who proclaimed her heir presumptive in the event of his death. Born February 7th, 1102, little Maude got down to business fast. She was betrothed to the Holy Roman Emperor Henry V at age 8 and married to him when she was only 12 (that had to have been weird...her dad and her husband had the same name- and her husband was 16 years older than her). She was Empress of the Holy Roman Empire until 1127, when Henry V died. A few years later she married Geoffrey of Anjou in order to create an alliance between Anjou and Normandy (at least his name wasn't Henry). While with Geoffrey, Maude had three kids, one of whom got to be King of England (good work, Mama).

Look at that Medieval vixen- you can even see her hair! What's next- ankles?

Now, it might be true that she was responsible for a succession crisis known as the "anarchy" after the death of her dad, King Henry I, in 1135. Although she had a brother who was supposed to succeed her dad, he died 15 years before in the White Ship Disaster (sounds interesting, doesn't it?). Thus, little Maude (the only legitimate child of King Henry) was named heir. Despite her royal lineage, a lot nobles were pretty ticked off that a woman would rule England; Stephen of Blois was one of those people- he pretty much thought the throne was his. Unfortunately, the succession crises ended with Stephen on the throne of England, not Maude (this plays out as an extremely interesting sub-plot in the awesome Starz mini-series Pillars of the Earth, based on the Ken Follett novel).

After giving up the battle for the throne in 1141 (its cool, her son got to be king anyways), she retired to Normandy until her death in 1167. She was originally buried in the Abbey of Bec-Hellouin, but her body was moved to Rouen Cathedral in the 19th century (Why? Ew! Leave the poor woman alone, she's been dead for 700 years, sheesh.) Her epitaph reads: "Great by Birth, Greater by Marriage, Greatest in her Offspring: Here lies Matilda, the daughter, wife, and mother of Henry." Do you think her son wrote it?