Gillray's Printshop of Historical Absurdities

The Most Boring Mysteries Imaginable

2012-01-25T03:56:00.000-05:00

I really wanted to like The Mysteries of Udolpho. Really. I very sincerely wanted to do so. It is one of the first Gothic novels and it was written by a female author in a time where novels were sneered at as 'women's stuff' and women were considered too feeble-minded to vote, even though they were sometimes allowed to own property. However, because it is one of the first Gothic novels, it feels like Mrs. Radcliffe was working out what the genre was as she went along.

This makes the novel incredibly dull.

For example, she seems to have stuck with the classical French ideal of bienseance, which basically means that nothing exciting ever happens where the viewer/reader can see it. Whenever there's a fight, the heroine faints or staggers away pleading for the men to stop; whenever there's a scene of utmost horror, the chapter ends, or it happens to men that do not care to describe their experiences to the heroine until several chapters later, in the most boring fashion imaginable.

Perhaps the Amateur Historian is not the intended reader of the novel. Though I am a fan of Romanticism, I am not a fan of excessive sensibility, and all the times the heroine ends a chapter crying annoy me to no end. In fact, I am hard put to say what it is, exactly, the heroine does besides weep, suffer, stop playing her lute because she is crying so much, and get unfairly persecuted by nearly everyone she meets. I sometimes wondered if I was reading about a particularly mobile water feature.

Likewise, the Amateur Historian had nothing but cordial disdain for the love interest Valencourt. What good can be said about him that has not already been said about Koko the gorilla? He can almost express himself in a normal human fashion and his ability to form special bonds with pets makes one really hope for his intellectual development and the potential of ranty, emotionally disturbed young men to join normal society and actually resemble other human beings. Like many Gothic heroes, he thinks that stalking means love. The Amateur Historian does not, and thus felt extremely uncomfortable about the whole romance, which basically was Emily crying with happiness or vexation and Valancourt variously breaking and entering, defacing public property by carving poems on trees, trespassing and relying on really, really awful emotional abuse to get Emily to do things she did not want to do.

Granted, the whole book could be subtitled, 'Ranty Men Make Emily Do Lots of Things That Make Her Cry' but still, you want a love interest that isn't a total dick when he's not weeping piteously, releasing sighs fit to break one's heart and raving incoherently about his gambling debts. God, I hated him. I wanted to call the cops on his emotionally abusive behavior, only there isn't a police force in whatever-time-the-book-takes-place in the South of France, and he's a fictional character. However, just a general tip for any Gentle Readers out there thinking of writing their own Gothic novels-- when the hero is going through his requisite near-death experience, the reader should not be cheering for his demise, like I was. I was actually hoping that all the characters would mysteriously die because I hated them all so very, very much.

Some of the secondary characters were decent, of course, and the satire of various society figures was pretty well done, but it wasn't enough to pull the novel from the Marsh of Monotony caused by everyone going off into hysterics at the slightest provocation. The descriptions of nature and the French and Italian countryside were quite well done, and, like the neo-Romantic I am, I loved all the passages on the sublime aspects of nature and the "melting sweetness" of music. The plot is decent, which makes it all the more disappointing that the prose is so dull and the characters are about as sympathetic as mold spores.

It's hard to see what's so frightening about the book, too. Sure, there are elements of horror and everyone thinks they see a ghost at one point or another, but the narrative skims blithely over it. I found that the only really interesting bit was the third to last chapter where everything was explained. If the content of that chapter had actually been the whole book, it would have been wonderful. As it was we have Lady Mopey and her love interest Sir Douchebag weeping their way over the Alps and back.

I'm at a loss of what to say about this just because it was so dull. Perhaps this was not meant for modern eyes, or did not age well? I am at a total loss to explain the novel's popularity. I found it extraordinarily easy to put it down and it was even easier not to pick it back up for weeks.

"It's going to be fun for the family.”

2012-01-21T04:01:00.002-05:00

For those Gentle Readers wishing to plan their summer vacations in 2017, might the Amateur Historian suggest Napoleonland? According to The Telegraph, along with the expected museums, hotels and gift shops, you can ski down a slope decorated charmingly with the frozen bodies of men and horses, presumably from the Russian campaign, watch a water display of the Battle of Trafalgar, attend the execution of Louis XVI, or participate in a reenactment of the Battle of Waterloo.

Sign me up. My favorite exercise is cross-country skiing past an enormous number of dead French soldiers.

Jane Austen Old Spice Parody

2012-01-14T07:06:00.000-05:00

The Amateur Historian is currently forcing herself through The Mysteries of Uphaldo which is remarkably dull for a novel that Mr. Tilney read in two days with his hair standing on end the whole time, and greatly appreciated this parody. I shall probably earn myself deep enmity for saying I prefer Henry Tilney to the other Austen heroes, but so be it! Let it be the subject of a long discussion in the comments section.

Huzzah for Hat Pins

2012-01-11T12:48:00.001-05:00

This is perhaps a little out of the Amateur Historian's chosen period, but this article on Victorian/Edwardian women's self-defense with hat pins is too good not to have on this blog.

Jane Austen Fight Club

2012-01-08T07:19:00.003-05:00

Jane Austen's Fight Club from Keith Paugh on Vimeo.
This is a few years late, but I remembered it after watching all the imagined sword-fighting scenes in the BBC's highly entertaining adaptation of Northanger Abbey. Hopefully the Gentle Readers will find this amusing.

Aargh.

2012-01-06T08:30:00.000-05:00

I do not like Twilight for rather a stupid reason, to be honest. The Amateur Historian wishes desperately to say that her initial, gut-reaction of dislike arose from feminist principles, an admiration for the subtitles and satires of Jane Austen over the sentimentality Brontes, a dislike of melodrama or something of sort, but it really started because the person who introduced Twilight to the Amateur Historian said Edward was a "Byronic hero."NO. HAVE SOME MACROS TO SHOW YOU WHY THAT IS WRONG.The Byronic hero for the edification of her gentle readers:

It's enough to make one want to join George Takei's Star Alliance.

Great... well, rather Bleak Expectations.

2012-01-04T08:01:00.001-05:00

Ah Charles Dickens, that perennial Christmas favorite! This year, however, the BBC decided to adapt his Great Expectations instead of A Christmas Carol, for which the Amateur Historian is grateful, if only because it has given us another Gorgeous Man in Period Costume. Or Beautiful Man in a Cravat. The title of this tag will need work.

Pip sure did grow up nicely.

At any rate, the Amateur Historian freely admits that Dickens is not her favorite social justice nineteenth century novelist. Victor Hugo does it better, on a more epic scale, Balzac is frankly more ballsy, and George Elliot can actually write female characters. Sorry Dickens. You earned my enmity with Lucy Manette and that horrible Purity Sue Agnes in David Copperfield. The best I can say for your angels in the house is that at least they don't turn into hideous copies of their husbands, a la Tolstoy. However, the Amateur Historian does like Great Expectations best out of Dickens's oeuvre. Though unfortunately Miss Havisham is again a Dickensian heroine defined by her reactions to men, she is still a very intriguing figure, and Estella is wonderful. Pip is well... a Dickensian hero. He is pretty generic, the Everyman who is supposed to guide us, the readers, on a journey to middle-class morality and propriety.

The new production takes a few interesting spins on these popular characters, namely, Pip is better looking than Estella.

As one British reviewer put it, if she was Miss Havishmam, she would be tempted to say to hell with the experiment and marry Pip, so she could look at him over the breakfast table every morning. However, it astonishingly makes Pip less likable. The child actor they have for Pip turned out a really excellent performance and adult Pip's early earnestness at the end of the first episode (and his lovely blacksmith costume) make one (or rather, the Amateur Historian) really want him to be a decent person who deserves a happy ending. However, he's not. Great Expectations is about vengeance and class snobbery, so Pip gives off the impression of being a useless pretty boy sponging off of the misery of others rather than a confused young man desperate to understand society and to succeed. Yay corrupting capitalism? Yay Marx was right? It rather made me want to #occupybondstreet.

It is sometimes painful to watch, though if one mutes the sound and watches Burberry model-turned-actor Douglass Booth angsting in tailcoats and top hats, it becomes ever so much more enjoyable. The final return to the forge and to, you know, decent, thoughtful, humanitarian and compassionate behavior much more satisfying, but the little changes to Joe (I love Joe!) made it less cathartic than one needed after the poorly-lit but beautifully dressed angst preceding it.

Estella left me cold, which I think she was supposed to do. I have nothing to say against her performance, but it did not particularly dazzle. This was not entirely her fault, since the tone of the whole series was incredibly bleak. There was no leavening of Dickens's usual humor to make Estella's coldness and lack of a heart more noticeable. Her child incarnation was charmingly awful, but her adult form... well, when Pip is prettier, there really isn't much one can do, is there, aside think of how awful 1830s sleeves were and wish for a return of Pip's fabulous waistcoats and his questionable pinky-rings. In fact, I rather enjoyed the child actors better than the adult actors. They were much more fun to watch, and actually seemed to enjoy their parts. Pip and Estella spent most of their screen time looking tortured. This isn't out of line with the script, but it does become a little dull after a while.

Gillian Anderson makes an interesting spin on Miss Havisham, portraying her in rather a J.M. Barrie sort of way, as a woman who refuses to grow up. She also self-immolates on a bonfire made of her ersatz-fiance's letters, which was incredibly disturbing to watch, if one is easily squicked out by things going wrong with the human body, like the Amateur Historian is. Seriously, I cannot sit through an episode of House without having to hide my eyes at least twice.

Ah, and what would a Dickens novel be without a cast of supporting characters who are much more interesting than Blandy McBland, the hero of the piece? Joe was as good-hearted an incarnation as he usually is, though I was disappointed they cut out all of his little games with Pip, to alleviate the misery of a poor childhood, and his backstory as an abused child who had forgiven his own awful father and was determined to prevent the miseries of his old childhood with Pip. He was such a breath of fresh air when he appeared, however. There was no Biddy (I can't say that I missed her), just Joe with his kindness and decency. Pip's uncle was enjoyably snobbish, but Mrs. Joe was not as funny as I read her in the novel. During some of her scenes, I kept thinking, 'haha, child abuse? Is that what the BBC wants me to laugh at?' Still, she turned in a fine performance, as can be said for all of the secondary actors. Mr. Jaggers seemed to really enjoy his role, and his final monologue was excellently filmed and so dramatically satisfying, I rather wished the episode would end there. Mr. Wemmik and Herbert Pocket were a nice mix of materialistic and sympathetic, though Ray Winstone, as the mysterious convict, seemed to be playing Ray Winstone more than anything else. I'm not altogether familiar with British actors, but I suppose there must be people like John Malkovitch everywhere, who are famous for playing themselves in every single role. Indeed, there is no arguing with the casting or the filming, which was rather beautifully grim, with mud, fog, shadows and rot vying for time on screen, but with the little changes to the script and therefore the characters. What's the point of a lot of the little changes? Why have Pip's scene with the convict over a bridge instead of in a graveyard (I guess to nicely bookend it, considering what ends up happening to the convict)?

All in all, it was a decent adaptation, and if one has a few idle hours, one could do worse than watch Douglas Booth in period clothing. However, it hardly achieves the brilliance of past adaptions of Dickens, and past BBC adapations. It feels all at once too artsy and too grim to be Dickens, and for those like the Amateur Historian, who loves the satire in nineteenth century novels above all, there is none to be found.

Horrible Histories Paul Rivere's All American Toothpaste

2012-01-01T01:30:00.000-05:00

One of the Amateur Historian's friends admitted that she believed in making easily fulfilled New Year's resolutions, and therefore, her resolution was to take better care of her teeth. One hopes she did not invest in this toothpaste in order to do so.

Happy 2012!

Belated Cat-Mass

2011-12-26T18:50:00.001-05:00

Near the Samuel Johnson museum/ house, there is a statue of a very fine cat indeed:

To the left you can even see Hodge's eaten oyster.

Got milk?

2011-12-23T15:58:00.000-05:00

Ah, Christmas. For the Scrooges among us, it is a time of annoyance and awful credit card bills. The leading lights of the Enlightenment were not immune to the horrors of an unpaid bill.

Though Dr. Samuel Johnson, writer of the first really complete English dictionary, fed his famous cat Hodge oysters every morning, it appears the good doctor had some trouble keeping Hodge in milk. Dr. Johnson owed his milkman so much that said milkman tried to have Dr. Johnson arrested and hauled off to Debtor's prison. In reponse, Dr. Johnson put a chain across his door and then dragged his bed down the stairs to use as a barricade, all the while shouting that he would defend his citadel to the last.

The Amateur Historian would not advise adopting this method when Visa, MasterCard, request that you pay for all your Christmas shopping.

Poor Elizabeth....

2011-12-07T06:24:00.000-05:00

And to continue on, W.H. Auden on Robert Browning:

“I don’t think Robert Browning was very good in bed. His wife probably didn’t care for him very much. He snored and had fantasies about twelve-year-old girls.”

Zing!

2011-12-05T06:01:00.000-05:00

In the spirit of the Christmas Season, or lack thereof, have Oscar Wilde's opinion on Alexander Pope:

“There are two ways of disliking poetry; one way is to dislike it, the other is to read Pope.”

Call Ralph Lauren-- we have a new spring color!

2011-12-03T17:51:00.000-05:00

John Keats is well known for saying that beauty is truth and truth beauty, but he also had some interesting ideas of color, according to this letter to his fiancée, Fanny Brawne:

I have been writing with a vile old pen the whole week, which is excessively ungallant. The fault is in the Quill: I have mended it and still it is very much inclin'd to make blind es. However these last lines are in a much better style of penmanship thof [for though] a little disfigured by the smear of black currant jelly; which has made a little mark on one of the Pages of Brown's Ben Jonson, the very best book he has. I have lick'd it but it remains very purplue [for purple]. I did not know whether to say purple or blue, so in the mixture of the thought wrote purplue which may be an excellent name for a colourmade up of those two, and would suit well to start next spring.

Thanks for the advice Talleyrand

2011-12-01T21:19:00.000-05:00

Talleyrand, also known as the political chameleon of the 19th century, started his career as a priest. Since he was born into the nobility with a club foot, the army and navy were out as professions.

However, the laws of celibacy of the Catholic Church did not suit Talleyrand in the slightest. He was defrocked after being un-frocked with an equally undressed lover. Later on, Talleyrand explained his popularity with the ladies as such:

"For a woman, to have an abbé had a double advantage. The first was to be sure that your secret would be safe; the second was to be sure of receiving absolution."

The Hotness of King George

2011-12-01T07:17:00.000-05:00

Apparently the Amateur Historian is not the only William Pitt the Younger fan out there.

The very shoe roses had to be got by proxy....

2011-11-25T18:08:00.001-05:00

For the historical costumers and other fashion fans that follow this blog:

"Pemberley" Regency Shoe Pre-Sale OPEN + Giveaway!

Go forth, merry historical holiday shoppers, and order a pair of Pemberlies, the perfect Regency shoe, for your Jane Austen-obsessed love one, or treat yourself!

Pre-Order Now
November 25 - December 9
$80 (~~$95~~)
Click Here

Ordering is UNLIMITED, on all women's USA sizes 6 through 12, including half sizes.

Orders of 5 + receive the special pre-order price, plus quantity and shipping discounts.

Delivery in early 2012.

*We need to sell just over 100 pairs of Pemberlies in order to manufacture them. If we don't meet that goal, all of you who did order will have to be refunded in full, and the Pemberlies will be canceled. If this is the Regency shoe of your dreams, please share, blog, tweet, tumble, stumble, and pass the news along.*

And when you share, you could win....

Pemberley Regency Shoe Giveaway

About the Prize:
The "Pemberley" Regency shoes are closely based on extant footwear from the 1790s through 1810. The smooth, dyable, hand-sewn leather upper is designed to be lovely enough formal occasions, and durable enough for walking in the countryside. Particular attention was paid to the point of the toe, as well as the other hallmarks of Regency historical footwear, with the main goals being both historical accuracy and all-day comfort

"Ca ira mon amour" - Rod Janois (1789 Les Amants de la Bastille)

2011-11-23T14:42:00.000-05:00

Despite having taken some translation classes, the Amateur Historian is a very indifferent poet. Therefore this translation is more literal than poetic. If I have made any errors, Gentle Readers, please comment and I will fix it. Many thanks and happy listening! (Also important to note, the phrase 'Ça ira' is an important revolutionary slogan, and the name of a cheerfully violent revolutionary song (are there any other kind?) about hanging aristocrats on lampposts.)

IT WILL BE MY LOVE

(Translation by the Amateur Historian, will whatever vague intellectual property things come from an amateur internet translation. If you use it, Gentle Readers, steer people back to my blog, is what I'm saying.)

This fear which undresses me

To have dared to put your name on my skin

And these tears which remove your make-up

Come take my reason under their streams

Despite it all

The looks which shoot

Close to us

The flag that wavers

After all

We don’t care

Care, care, care….

It will be, my love!

Ah! It will be forever!

Go, lovers, declare our forbidden vows

It will be my love!

One will forget the military drums

On all the walls I will write, I swear it,

Dear Liberty!/ Liberty my dear!

I have dreamed of our touching bodies

Caressed by the spirit of our ideals

I put my tongue on your mouth

Savoring the essence of your smallest words

Despite it all

Desire is fragile

Close to us

Pleasure in danger

After all

We don’t care

Care, care, care….

It will be my love!

Ah! It will be forever!

Go, lovers, declare our forbidden vows

It will be my love!

One forgets the military drums

On all the walls I will write, I swear,

Dear Liberty!/ Liberty my dear!

My love

It’s your life that I marry/ take on

In that day

Set in red roses

Go, lovers

One must laugh and dance

Here is the free spring!

It will be my love.

We will write that great day

I will offer you my nights for life

It’s promised.

It will be my love!

Ah! It will be forever.

Go, lovers, declare our forbidden vows.

It will be my love.

One will forget the military drums

On all the walls I will write, I swear it,

LIBERTY!

1789 Ca ira mon amour - Rod Janois (clip officiel)

2011-11-22T17:25:00.000-05:00

One of the Amateur Historian's friends sent her this lovely video. If the Amateur Historian feels inspired/ bored enough, perhaps there will be a translation for those Gentle Readers who do not speak French. If not, pray enjoy the break-dancing prisoner of the Bastille and the dance troupe formally known as the National Guard.

Bringing New Meanings to Crimes Against Fashion

2011-11-11T13:45:00.001-05:00

Though now-a-days the top hat is seen as a conservative anachronism, when it was first debuted in 1795, it was treated like one of Lady Gaga's more bizarre creations.

London haberdasher John Hetherington decided to wear his on the Strand on January 15, 1795, and caused such a riot that he was brought before the Lord Mayor the next morning. He was charged with "walking down a public highway wearing upon his head a tall structure having a shining lustre calculated to alarm the people."

The Lord Mayor, taking into account eye-witness accounts that "women had fainted... children had gone into hysterics and... one lad sustained a broken arm through the violence of the mob" ignored Hetherington's assertion that he had the right to dress as he chose and fined him the modern-day equivalent of $5,000.

Cutest Napoleon Ever?

2011-11-08T15:13:00.000-05:00

Fun fact: Napoleon wasn't actually all that short, he a) liked surrounding himself with six-foot-odd bodyguards and b) was actually of average height, just measured himself in French units instead of British ones, thus causing centuries of confusion. Still, I don't think world domination has ever been this cute before.

Remember, remember... the other thirteen people involved.

2011-11-05T12:54:00.000-04:00

The Three Musketeers Never Do Use Muskets

2011-11-04T14:38:00.002-04:00

In honor of the new film adaptation of 'The Three Musketeers', which the Amateur Historian is still not sure she wants to see, have this better book title:

Halloween Poe-st

2011-11-01T06:06:00.001-04:00

The Amateur Historian realizes that this is a bit late, but what better than a hauntingly autumnal and metafictional take on Edgar Allen Poe's last days to celebrate Halloween? Too bad we shall have to wait until March to see how this horror story unfurls.

A little Halloween inspiration?

2011-10-29T12:39:00.000-04:00

For the Gentle Readers who cannot read the text, it is as follows:

FIRST YOUNG GENT: What a miwackulous tie, Fwank, How the doose do you manage it?

SECOND YOUNG GENT: Yas. I fancy it is rather grand; but then, you see I give the whole of my Mind to it!

Fwank, you are an inspiration to us all.

Shocking

2011-10-24T18:18:00.001-04:00

Mention has been made of Nikola Tesla, who is, quite possibly, one of the only real mad scientists to exist. How did he get his start? With cats!

Even though, later in life, Tesla spoke to pigeons, he grew up with cats and when petting his family cat, got shocked. He became interested in electricity and eventually made a 130 foot bolt of lightening from one of his Tesla coils and potentially invented a "Teleforce Beam" which shot ball lightening at 60 million volts.

Truly electrifying research, wouldn't you agree?

Heeeeeeeere's Johnny! Keats!

2011-10-13T05:55:00.000-04:00

No one hates an author more than another author, particularly if they are authors in the same time period. (Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses come to mind), but few can be as sneering in prose as Lord Byron:

Lord Byron on John Keats (1820)

“Here are Johnny Keats’ piss-a-bed poetry, and three novels by God knows whom… No more Keats, I entreat: flay him alive; if some of you don’t I must skin him myself: there is no bearing the drivelling idiotism of the Mankin.”

Give that man a hand!

2011-10-12T14:31:00.000-04:00

France has a complicated relationship with many of its saints, primarily because, during the French Revolution, they misplaced most of them.

Take, for example, Saint Quentin, one of France's patron saints. During the fourth century, Quentin made his way to Roman occupied Gaul to preach, where he was summarily arrested, tortured, released by angels, arrested, tortured again, etc. until he died. Since all this happened in a city that later became Amiens, Saint Quentin's remains remained in the Picardy region, eventually making their way to the city of Saint Quentin.

Several centuries later, le deluge!

Part of the French Revolution included a secularization and de-Christianizing movement and Saint Quentin's remains got moved out of their display case and into the basement. When the monarchy came back, there was some difficulty re-finding the remains and putting it back in the Basilica.

In 2009, it was discovered that whoever re-found Saint Quentin had more difficulty than expected, as the leg bones and skull fragment did indeed date from Saint Quentin's century, but his hand did not. If one travels north of Paris to Saint Quentin, one can see the leg bones and skull fragment of someone who at least came from the correct century, and the decomposed hand of apparently only God knows who.

What stinks of brooding?

2011-10-08T10:41:00.001-04:00

For those Gentle Readers who have not yet seen the delightful parody of Wuthering Heights by Kate Beaton, the Amateur Historian suggests going here and here.

Horrible Histories Madame Tussaud's Make-Up Show

2011-09-24T00:36:00.000-04:00

The Amateur Historian will never look at ads for Madame Tussaud's with equanimity again.

Quite a Talent

2011-09-21T11:23:00.001-04:00

Of all the monarchs of the eighteenth century, the one with the coolest name has got to be Queen Nanny of the Maroons.

Most of Nanny's history was preserved orally and because of that, and the fact that she was an ex-slave who managed to free approximately 800 other slaves from British colonial rule in Jamaica have contributed to her lack of publicity.

The Maroons were a group of African ex-slaves and native inhabitants of Jamacia who understandably didn't like the whole slavery-and-stealing-land thing the British had going on. Queen Nanny was the leader of the Windward Maroons, a group that lived high in the mountains and excelled at clever attacks. Nanny managed to unite the other Maroons and successful get the British to acknowledge the land they lived on as theirs.

By far one of the most interesting details about Nanny, other than the fact that she is now on Jamaican currency, is that she could catch bullets. Some believe that she caught them with her hands, as it was an art-form in Africa to be able to do so. The more entertaining version is that she caught bullets with her buttocks and farted them back out.

Why We Like Edison over Tesla

2011-09-18T14:06:00.001-04:00

Everybody loves Nikola Tesla (everyone but Thomas Edison, that is)! A quick wikipedia search lists all the products, ideas and technology that Tesla envisioned, discovered and/or created that we still use today. One of Tesla's most useful discoveries was alternating electric current.

As the Amateur Historian is an Amateur and an Historian, not any sort of scientist, she cannot tell you excatly what the difference is between Tesla's alternating electric current and Edison's direct current. Presumably the names and who discovered them?At any rate, Edison was feircely jealous of Tesla after Tesla supplied the electricity to the Wrold's Columbian Exposition at the World's Fair.

Edison reacted by electrocuting stray puppies with alternating electric current. His hypothesis that large amounts of electricity would indeed kill those it came in contact with was correct. As the public did not entirely understand alternating current (the Amateur Historian completely understands), public opinion turned against Tesla (though they did not stop using alternating current). It did not help that Telsa had mental and social problems and was afraid of round objects.

So basically, we like Thomas Edison for inventing a lot of things, but also for electrocuting elephants. It is a proud day for humanity, I am sure.

Some Ladies Clearly Need to Speak with Their Milliners

2011-09-06T17:29:00.001-04:00

Gentle Readers! Do you enjoy period costumes, talking during films and being casually superior in conversation with your acquaintances? If you answered 'yes' to one of the three, or are just curious, the Amateur Historian wishes to direct you to this site, which charts which costumes and costume pieces get reused in period pieces. Have you ever wondered why, exactly, certain regency party gowns resemble each other?

It's because they are the exact same gown!Even if you do not wish to be casually smug when informing an acquaintance that Billie Piper's white gown in the new, odd adaptation of Austen's Mansfield Park by the BBC was first created for the peerless Emma Thomson in Sense and Sensibility, it is still an interesting, fun website to explore. T

he website does not focus only on period costumes, though they certainly gave the Amateur Historian a great many new historical series/films to look up, but also features modern clothes and sci-fi/fantasy costumes.

Horrible Histories Historical Historical Wife Swap French Royal Special

2011-09-01T14:19:00.000-04:00

During his troubled adolescence, Louis XVI also liked making courtiers chase him around his rooms in Versailles before they could ceremonially undress him, and one yanked out the earring of one of his guards with a blue sash of state. No wonder he grew up into the marvelously effective ruler remembered by French history.

Horrible Histories- George I- Doesn't Understand English..

2011-08-22T00:03:00.000-04:00

Ah, the benefits of a Hanoverian monarch! Not only does one avoid the Hapsburg jaw, one gets both German and an inherited case of porphoria.

Our Daily Bread> Your Angst

2011-08-15T22:21:00.004-04:00

The Amateur Historian has a particular fondness for literary feuds. Though Mark Twain's scathing criticisms of the literary offenses of the Deerslayer tales are still the Amateur Historian's favorite, William Makepeace Thackeray had some salient criticisms of Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther:

Werther had a love for Charlotte
Such as words could never utter;
Would you know how first he met her?
She was cutting bread and butter.

Charlotte was a married lady,
And a moral man was Werther,
And, for all the wealth of Indies,
Would do nothing for to hurt her.

So he sighed and pined and ogled,
And his passion boiled and bubbled,
Till he blew his silly brains out,
And no more was by it troubled.

Charlotte, having seen his body
Borne before her on a shutter,
Like a well-conducted person,
Went on cutting bread and butter.

Giddup

2011-08-13T20:20:00.000-04:00

As mentioned in an earlier post this week, Pitt the Younger's favorite way of spending the evening was to drink three bottles of port with his close friends and cabinet ministers. His favorite drinking partner was Dundas, who could not quite match Pitt's three bottles, but not from lack of effort.

During what seems to be one particularly memorable dinner party hosted by Charles Jenkinson in Croydon, Pitt and Dundas decided that they were sober enough to ride.

They were not.

The Prime Minister of England and the most famous Scottish MP of the time took it into their heads to gallop through an open toll gate separating Streatham and Tooting, and were shot at by the toll keeper.

Talk about taking a shot at greatness....

Bunga bunga certainly sounds like a nonsense word

2011-08-11T20:07:00.004-04:00

In a world of bunga-bunga parties with minors and Prime Ministers as the main guests, the Amateur Historian finds it something of a relief to turn from Berlusconi's antics to William Pitt the Younger's.

Pit the Younger was notoriously uninterested in women, his one "fling" with Eleanor Eden ending with an oft-examined letter explaining to her father, Lord Auckland, why they couldn't be married. Though that is the subject of another post (the Amateur Historian is sure her Gentle Readers will be thrilled with a quasi-scholarly examination of Pitt the Younger's sexuality or lack thereof), Pitt's own parties were, to be quite honest, not very good. Pitt's idea of a wild evening was to drink three bottles of port with Dundas, Wilberforce or any of his other ministers in attendance, and then to rehearse Parliamentary debates. Slow down, wild man!

Part of this has to do with the early death of his beloved sister, Harriot, in 1785. Her role as his political hostess forced him out of his customary reserve and extreme shyness and, at her death, Pitt was left to the mercies of the Duchess of Gordon. To say that Pitt very soon disliked the Duchess of Gordon, who called him "pet" and tried to set him up with her daughter Charlotte, may be summed up in the following exchange:

Duchess of Gordon: Well, Mr. Pitt, do you talk as much nonsense now as you used to when you lived with me?

Pitt the Younger: I do not know, madam, whether I talk so much nonsense, I certainly do not hear so much."

Horrible Histories- Admiral Nelson's Death/Stupid Deaths

2011-08-08T23:54:00.000-04:00

Everyone loves a naval hero, except if said naval hero pukes on your shoes.

Horrible Histories -George IV is Fat

2011-08-03T00:07:00.000-04:00

The man wasn't nicknamed "the Prince of Whales" because of his fondness for marine science, after all.

Horrible Histories - Pupil Rebellion -HD 1080p

2011-07-29T23:46:00.000-04:00

The British school system was, I think, much more entertaining back in the Georgian era. If this was the sort of education that gentlemen of rank and fortune received, it is very easy to see how British parliment evolved the way it did. The Amateur Historian is personally very fond of how British MPs can boo each other at will.

Shake it, shake it, shake it like a Tesla Oscillator

2011-07-26T19:05:00.000-04:00

Many times has an older relation or land-lady complained that a younger person has been playing their music so loudly/otherwise do something believably anti-social they would bring the house down. This hyperbole has mostly passed into cliche, save when one adds Nikola Tesla to the mix.

Nikola Tesla, possibly the world's only real mad scientist, was Edison's rival and a multi-talented scientist. Though Tesla is famous for his alternating current electricity, which is still in use today, he also experimented with mechanical devices. One was an earthquake which, you guessed it, Gentle Reader, causes earthquakes. The machine uses resonance frequency to shake buildings and the earth. Though MythBusters says it is only a legend, Tesla allegedly caused a small earthquake in his lodging house and had to take a sledgehammer to his device before the police arrived.

I am sure it put the whole neighborhood into a quake thereafter.

Immortal Beloved Review

2011-07-22T15:47:00.000-04:00

It is always difficult dealing with a mystery that has plagued the academic community for years. When one is... not actually an academic, it most likely necessarily follows that the answer to that mystery is going to be a) academically unfounded and b) a little bizarre. However, to give credit where credit is due, the director a) brilliantly picked Gary Oldman to play Beethoven, b) did an extremely good, if sometimes overtly violent job at matching images to Beethoven's music, c) has a beautiful first act where one of Beethoven's potential Immortal Beloveds falls in love with him and realizes that he is deaf, and d) cast Gary Oldman in a cravat role.

Take a look, Gentle Readers:

The director performed a service to humanity with that bit of casting. The Amateur Historian, at least, personally feels that her life was better for seeing Gary Oldman storm about Romantically in period costume.

The plot is relatively simple. After Beethoven's dramatic death in the middle of a thunderstorm, underscored by the beginnings of his 5th Symphony, his biographer, Anton Schindler (actually Beethoven's first biographer, so good job movie) finds three letters addressed to Beethoven's Immortal Beloved. This leads Schindler on a quest throughout Austria and through the flashbacks of the candidates for the title of Immortal Beloved. It is a very different and ingenious way to explore the tumultuous life of a great composer, and, to the movie's credit and certainly to Mr. Oldman's, Beethoven is presented precisely as he was in life: passionate, paranoid, tumultuous, brilliant and completely over-the-top. Whether it's music or life, Beethoven must HAVE IT ALL and he must HAVE IT HIS WAY OR HE WILL BREAK SOMETHING.

However, like Beethoven, the movie is not without its flaws. It is extremely bloody-- a trait which will perhaps recommend it to certain Gentle Readers, but not to the Amateur Historian-- and the third act of the film is an incredible disappointment. When the dramatic denouement, underscored with Beethoven's own music and the apparently requisite thunderstorm, unfurls, the end is somewhat inexplicable and disappointing. For no easily discernible reason, Beethoven's Immortal Beloved agrees to meet Beethoven in a hotel, where he will presumably propose, but then she leaves the hotel and then marries someone else, leaving Beethoven to hurl chairs about in rage.

Jeez, Immortal Beloved, I know your boyfriend has hearing problems, but you should have just invested in a fan.

Bref, the movie is not without its merits, though it fails to live up to the high standard it set for itself in its first act, where Beethoven's loss of hearing is handled with such beautiful artistic delicacy. For the romance novelists out there, the first act is also very helpful in terms of very late 18th century undergarments, as there is a surprising amount of nudity, dressing and undressing that occurs. However, the ending does not make very much sense once the film is over and the final moment of beauty, where Beethoven's Ode to Joy is playing in the background as Beethoven, as a young boy, lays in a lake reflecting the stars and the camera pans back to see the entire Milky Way, is eclipsed by the randomness of the script's solution. Immortal Beloved, you are not who all the actual scholars say you are.

Horrible Histories - Georgian Pinching Match

2011-07-20T15:44:00.001-04:00

The summer is the best time to begin a new sport or exercise regime, Gentle Readers, and so the Amateur Historian suggests looking back to history. Pinching matches are sure to be all the rage at your next outdoor party! It gives any gathering that touch of old British civility.

Les inconnus - La révolution

2011-07-14T21:33:00.000-04:00

Happy Bastille Day, Gentle Readers! The Amateur Historian apologizes for this video being in French, but if any Gentle Reader does speak it, the video is hilarious.

A Cutting Remark

2011-07-13T01:04:00.002-04:00

It is nearing Bastille Day, Gentle Readers, and, in that spirit, the Amateur Historian wishes to draw your attention to Charles Henri Sanson, the man who owned and operated the guillotine in Paris.

Charles Heri Sanson had hoped to be a doctor and was averse to his family's profession, particularly as he had been kicked out of a convent school in Rouen because his father was the national executioner. However, his father became paralyzed and Sanson had to take up the gruesome trade.

However, he is best known for his work with the guillotine from 1792-1795, when his son took over the position. Charles Henri was a strong proponent of the guillotine, both out of humanitarian principles and professional pride (his sword grew dull during repeated executions, the cost of repair was unfairly placed on the executioner, who owned the weapons of execution, and the physical exertion was likely to result in accidents). It is said that Napoleon Bonaparte once asked Sanson if he could sleep well after having executed 3,000+ people.

Sanson replied, "If emperors, kings, and dictators can sleep well, why shouldn't an executioner?"

1776: Sit down, John! (1972 Film Version)

2011-07-04T20:41:00.000-04:00

Happy "Screw your taxes, George III" day to those who celebrate it!

Horrible Histories-Join the Royal Navy!-HD 1080p

2011-06-27T14:51:00.000-04:00

Wooden ships and iron men, what-what? Or maybe just men with cast-iron stomachs...

Have a cold?

2011-06-21T21:41:00.003-04:00

Or how about a terrible bowel complaint, or, like William Wilberforce, the famous British abolitionist, ulcerative colitis?

Then your nineteenth century doctor prescribes... opium!

Yes, opium, of indeterminate age, size or quantity, taken in granular form (or laudanum, a tincture of opium) so that one can never entirely control one's intake. Wilberforce himself took four grains three times a day for most of his life, and, despite the fact that he was hooked on narcotics, once remarked, "If I take but a single glass of wine, I can feel its effect, but I never know when I have taken my dose of opium by my feelings."

Wilberforce cannot be entirely held accountable for his addiction to opiates, as it was a standard treatment "to mitigate pain, to allay spasm, to promote sleep, to relieve nervous restlessness, to produce perspiration and to check profuse mucous discharges from the bronchial tubes and gastro-intestinal canal."

Gentle Readers, keep this remedy in mind the next time you or a friend wishes to check profuse mucous discharges from the gastro-intestinal canal.

No wonder George III stayed mad

2011-06-12T13:10:00.000-04:00

Yiiiiiiiiikes.

Georgian Beauty Tips

2011-06-08T13:02:00.001-04:00

Shocking that Elle and Cosmo don't feature any of these tricks.

Stand and Deliver (for real this time!)

2011-06-07T15:04:00.000-04:00

What I really love about this 80s glam rock song about Dick Turpin is how they mock one of my favorite 80s glam rock songs, Adam Ant's Stand and Deliver.

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

2011-06-05T13:01:00.000-04:00

Oh my, where to begin?

For those Gentle Readers who were unaware, there exists such a thing as Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, which is Exactly What it Says on the Tin. It is literally the text of Pride and Prejudice with new scenes of zombies. Granted, it also includes new scenes of Lady Catherine being a ninja, and the Bennet sisters being well-versed in the martial arts, but after the initial snorts of laughter over the jarring absurity of Jane and Elizabeth Bennet discussing the best method of killing zombie, the real laughs come from Austen's text, not the gruesome, Gothic additions. A lot of the literary devices, which Austen employed with such deftness and elegance, are either forgotten or changed so as not to make much sense.

One could make the arguement that it is very much in the Austen spirit, as it enacts the literary critic Bakhtin's idea of heteroglossia, where the dominant discourse is mocked or subverted, and different types of speech coexist. Here we have the discourse of subtle social commentary and the discourse of B-movie horror films. Amusing, yes, but perhaps not used in the manner that the Marxist Bakhtin would have imagined.

For those who are not Austen purists, it is amusing travel reading, for those who are, it is an abomination. For those who, like the Amateur Historian, like to maintain a critical distance from their reading material, it is not good. The inserted paragraphs are jarring and the characterizations that Austen gives and the new authors give are entirely at odds with each other. The authors seem to recognize this, as at the end of the book, they ask the question if one sees two halves to Elizabeth Bennet's personality, or if it is just sloppy writing. The Amateur Historian is inclined to believe the latter.

Granted, this was the first book the two authors wrote, so it could just be the ordinary faults of a first novel. It is a very creative idea, and a satiric look at the Western literary canon, but one that was somewhat clumsily executed. Though the Amateur Historian really has no intention (or desire) to read Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters it is most likely better put-together.

Is there literary merit to these re-writes? The Amateur Historian thinks not.

Are they fun to read? ... sort of? It depends on what one is looking for, and one's stance on Austen and the sanctity, or not, of the Western canon. It is certainly a clever idea, but Austen's elegant cynicism and her subtle social commentary are quite absent, leaving a sort of illiterate Frankenstein's monster in a bonnet stumbling around a cardboard Hollywood set.

The Prestige Review

2011-06-03T12:27:00.004-04:00

Hello, Gentle Readers! The Amateur Historian has not reviewed anything pertaining to the time period mentioned in the header for a while, and so recently rented Christopher Nolan's The Prestige. This film, staring Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale as rival magicians during the end of the 19th century, in London, is a spooky, but stunning look at stage magic that somehow turns into a distrubing sci-fi story about a magician abusing the scientific powers of Nicola Tesla.

... yes, Gentle Reader, you read that correctly.

Now, from an aesthetic standpoint, the Amateur Historian beileves that one really cannot go wrong with any story that involves Hugh Jackman in period attire and yet... hm. Gentle Readers should be warned that the film is extremely bloody. One realizes that there is a great deal of danger involved in near-death escapes, but one does not really internalize it. The main conflict between the two magicians, Robert Angier (played by Hugh Jackman) and Alfred Borden, (played by Christian Bale) begins when the two work as audience plants for another magician's show. Angier's wife plays the pretty assistant to the magician, you know, the one who is generally sawed in half, or dropped into a tank of water with her arms and legs tied up. Unfortunately, due to Bordon, the tank of water trick ends in very violent tragedy, and, in a show of machismo, revenge and I think pathological obession, Angier and Borden keep trying to one-up each other to increasingly dangerous ends.

Theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen the movie gets weird.

Perviously, Angier had worked with Michael Caine's character to come up with tricks, but, after recieving a mysterious clue on how to do the "Disappearing Man" trick, he jaunts off to the US to meet with, you guessed it, NICOLA TESLA.

I have nothing against Tesla, and I think the choice of David Bowie to play Tesla was nothing short of genius, but seriously, electricity can only do so much. I don't know if it was part of the book orginally, but I somehow doubt if electricity, wether AC or DC can clone hats, cats or Wolverines. Apparently it does. Who knew? Maybe Edison had something on Tesla being a danger to society.

The main problem with the film is that it veers off genre without any real set-up for it. It appears to be a very bloody look at the end of century, Alaistar Crowley sort of magic, where the veneer of civilization is but a veneer, and the darkness and wolfish nature of man is always rearing its Lockean head to show us we are rather nasty brutes after all. Then it turns out to be about clones.

Yeah.

The other problem is the Amateur Historian's own sense of aesthetics. The Amateur Historican has never been one for the gothic, prefers Austen to Bronte, and Voltaire to Locke. Thus, a film that takes the view of a brutish humanity is not likely to please. However, if one enjoys horror, or enjoyed the film Gothic in an unironic manner, one is likely to enjoy this film.

2011-05-04T16:41:00.000-04:00

And probably the Amateur Historian's favorite Better Book Title:

2011-05-03T16:46:00.002-04:00

It is sometimes odd how one stumbles upon scientific revelations.

2011-05-02T16:37:00.002-04:00

Gentle Readers, the Amateur Historian loves re-named books. Have some Marxist criticism made explicit of Robinson Crusoe.

2011-05-01T16:33:00.002-04:00

Here is yet another Better Book Title, though this time with a Kate Beaton edge:

More Better Book Titles!

2011-04-29T16:27:00.000-04:00

Likewise, here is a retitling of Mary Wollenstonecraft's work:

2011-04-28T15:52:00.001-04:00

For those Gentle Readers who found Keats hard going:

(From www.http://betterbooktitles.com/post/4064813893/keats)

Better Book Title!

2011-04-27T16:31:00.000-04:00

The true meaning of The Age of Innocence:

(From Better Book Titles: www.http://betterbooktitles.com)

Oeuf!

2011-04-26T14:15:00.002-04:00

The Marquis de Condorcet was widely held to be a philosophe and one of the last members of the Enlightenment. However, that did not keep him from moments of great stupidity.

While in hiding during the Terror, Condorcet, wounded in the leg and disheveled, ordered an omlette in an inn.

"How many eggs would you like?" asked the inn-keeper, somewhat alarmed by his guest's wild appearance.

Condorcet, being an aristocrat, had no idea, and thus said, "Twelve."

The inn-keeper then realized he was an aristocrat on the run, and reported him to the authorities.

Condorcet certainly had egg on his face for that one.

(Get the title? It's a pun! Oof/oeuf? They sound the same, but one is the French word for egg?Fine, Gentle Reader, you simply do not posses the sophisticated appreciation of wordplay that the Amateur Historian does.)

They had to earn their keep somehow...

2011-04-26T13:50:00.003-04:00

The British response to French émigrés fleeing to their shores was mixed at best. Burke was very much sympathetic to the émigré population, in particular to the segment of the population set on armed overthrow of the French Revolutionary government. Pitt was officially neutral, as he was up until the point where the French government declared war on Great Britain, but his later refusal to support émigré armies and his cabinet's Alien Laws preventing any French republicans from coming to England, and the banning of speakers, visitors and speakers suggest that Pitt was not altogether keen on increasing the French percentage of the population.

By far the oddest reaction to the French émigrés was that of the Duke of Bridgewater, he of the famous canals, who, Madame de Stael reports, rescued what seems to be an abbey's worth of monks for the purpose of having them wander through his gardens. It certainly beats having a Weeping Angel entertaining your neighbors at a garden party.

Complete History Of The Soviet Union, Arranged To The Melody Of Tetris

2011-04-20T15:45:00.000-04:00

This is technically not the right time period, but the Amateur Historian hopes that her Gentle Readers will forgive her because the video is so catchy and so clever. Anyone who has played as much Tetris on his or her phone as the Amateur Historian certainly does feel like an exploited proletariat. The work is never done, and when it is it vanishes!

(As a random aside, the Amateur Historian's favorite stanza is

I am the man who arranges the blocks
that are made by the men in Kazistan
They come two weeks late
and they don't tessellate
but we're working to Stalin's five-year-plan!)

WHOOOO ARE YOU?

2011-03-31T21:02:00.005-04:00

Madame de Pompadour!

If you haven't guessed by my self-indulgent punning, this is a review of the excellent Doctor Who episode, "The Girl in the Fireplace." Now, granted, this episode of Doctor Who came out a few years ago, but the Amateur Historian has only gotten into the series relatively recently and, for a while, was too caught up in the epicness of David Tennant's Doctor to think, "Gee, this episode takes place during the 18th century, maybe I should review it!"

Now, for those of my Gentle Readers unfamiliar with this British invasion from outerspace, the Doctor is a Time Lord, a race of aliens who control time and travel through time and space as it suits them. The Doctor generally has human companions and generally goes around being a Big Damn Hero all the time. Well, most of the time.

He is in this episode, at least.

Now, the Doctor and his two companions, Rose and Mickey, find themselves on a spaceship in another galaxy in the very far future. Grimdark!sci-fi right? Wrong! There is an 18th-century French fireplace in the spaceship linked to the 18th century bedroom of Madame de Pompadour. The Doctor can't say no to such an intriguing anomaly and so leaps through the fireplace, where he meets a young Madame de Pompadour and notices the clock is broken.

Weird thing to notice really, but then one realizes that one still hears ticking.

Enter the clockwork robots dressed like Venetian masqueraders!

The Amateur Historian will not spoil the rest of the episode for her Gentle Readers, but the dialogue was witty and snappy, the plotting was excellent and the moral of the story is... bizarre in a very interesting way. I loved their portrayal of Madame de Pompadour as a confident, intelligent woman, every inch the Doctor's equal and am stunned at their apparently enormous costume budget. All those robes à la françaises? I really don't have a single snarky thing to say about this, which is... quite rare.

The Amateur Historian personally found the idea of clockwork droids terrifying and wickedly, awesomely period. During the 18th century, the aristocracy was all about the clockwork machines. (That was one thing Gothic actually got right. Huzzah for the Turkish mechanical woman credited on imdb!) At the Madame Tussaud's in London, one can even see a wax and clockwork reproduction of an 18th century court lady.

You can watch Louis XV and Madame de Pompadour get threatened by clockwork androids here. If you have a spare 45 minutes, I highly recommend clicking the link.

Oh Give Me a Home....

2011-03-28T23:44:00.000-04:00

Where the buffalo roam!
And the parrots and crocodiles plaaaaaay....

Chateaubriand's North America is one which may not exactly correspond with the real North America. You know, the one where New Orleans is geographically distinct from Niagara Falls.

Chateaubriand is a French Romantic and aristocrat who wisely decided to go on a voyage of exploration in America just as the French Revolution broke out. He thus uses America as the setting for many of his novels. Some passages, such as the one that describes Niagara Falls, are so famous that they are still the subject of analytic essays in French high schools the world over. Others, such as the beginning of Atala, where Chateaubriand lovingly describes the palm trees that adorn the banks of the upper Mississippi, and the crocodiles that apparently wander over the state of Kentucky, are not quite so famous.

One can tell quite easily where Chateaubriand actually visited, and where he made things up because his French audience didn't know what, if anything, lived in Kentucky.

ROMANTIC MUSICIANS

2011-03-17T21:43:00.000-04:00

Gentle Readers, if you have not discovered the amazing webcomic, "Hark, a vagrant" here is some incentive to do so:

Raisin Brahms!

2011-03-17T21:32:00.000-04:00

Yum, art!

Thanks for the advice Talleyrand

2011-03-14T21:19:00.001-04:00

Well That Was Dumb

2011-03-12T20:49:00.000-05:00

As most people with some familiarity with European history know, the French Revolution was, in part, caused by unequal representation in taxation. France was divided up into three estates: the aristocracy, the clergy and the Third Estate.

Now, what is the Third Estate? "Everyone Else Who Isn't Noble or In the Church" or, according to Abbé Sieyes, it's everything! It's the nation!

Well, "the nation" excluding women, servants, vagrants, homeless people, people in the aristocracy and people in the church. Other than that it's everyone.

At any rate, the Third Estate was paying a lot of taxes to the state when the other two estates were not. However, the king could not raise taxes on any of the estates without the consent of the estates themselves. So, the question then arises, why was the Third Estate alone paying taxes?

Because during the Hundred Years War, the Third Estate consented to their current taxes (which mind you, were paying for a LARGE WAR) indefinitely.

Yeah.

Good job Third Estate, good job.

Tolstoy!

2011-02-28T19:19:00.000-05:00

Gentle Readers, are you having difficulty telling who is who in War and Peace, for those of you who are brave enough to attempt reading this monolith? Be not afraid, the Amateur Historian has a helpful schema for you!

1. Does this character speak French?
THEN THEY'RE BAD AND INSINCERE AND YOU SHOULD HATE THEM.

2. Does this character speak Russian?
Then they're good!

3. Is this character French?
THEN THEY'RE BAD AND INSINCERE AND YOU SHOULD HATE THEM.

4. Is this character associated with the countryside?
Then they're good!

5. Is this character associated with the city?
THEN THEY ARE BAD AND INSINCERE AND YOU SHOULD HATE THEM.

6. Is this character a young woman?
Then they will marry, retire to the countryside, and lose every character trait that made them interesting.

7. Do you like this character?
Too bad, because they're going to DIE.

Costume Links

2011-02-27T19:41:00.000-05:00

For those who are fans of historical costuming, here is a link to the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art's online searchable database.

You can see the real versions of these clothes:

The Beau Brummel Mystery Series!

2011-02-27T19:09:00.001-05:00

Gentle Readers, my sincerest apologies for a long and unexplained absence! The Amateur Historian, though being but a modest student of history, is in reality a full-time student at university writing an honors thesis. Since that is (mostly) finished, I hereby swear that your Amateur Historian will again be purveying amusing historical anecdotes.

And book reviews!

The Amateur Historian, as it must be admitted, has a soft spot for dandies, and Beau Brummel is certainly the One Dandy to Rule Them All. So, when she spotted a mystery series about said gentleman, she immediately checked out several books at once. The text itself is... mostly successful. Sort of.

It is extremely clear that the Beau Brummell mystery series by Rosemary Stevens is painstakingly and wonderfully researched, but the Amateur Historian has to question both the detective ability of a man who took four hours to get dressed every morning, and the author's addiction to descriptive clause openings for sentences. If you will forgive the momentary pastiche, a paragraph reads something like: "Wearing a black bombazine dress with a high- waist and a black lace mantilla, she came towards me. Thinking quickly, I deduced it was because no one of fashion wears bombazine unless they were in mourning. As I am known as the arbitrator of fashion, she should have known better- how could she have known her rich uncle had been foully murdered when I had out-ridden the messenger come from London? Smirking, I lifted my quizzing glass...." and so on and so forth until there's slightly awkward dialogue.

The problem with having really clever characters- or using historical personages that are well known for their bon mots and on-dits and scathing wit- is that they actually have to sound clever when they're speaking. If one is not particularly clever at turning a phrase in Austen-style language, or coming up with a subtle yet scathing insult without tumbling into cringe-inducing territory, one had best get a really cracking editor. Beau Brummel was known as much as for what he said as for what he wore. There is also the matter of Brummell's love life. Though one would have certain... associations, shall we say, with basically the Regency equivalent of a male model, Brummell is staunchly heterosexual and, oh joy of joys, also receives a Mary Sue as his potential love interest, as well as (for some reason) the Duchess of York. You know, the one who was so ugly all the newspapers praised her small feet, leading Gillray to create this print?

She's apparently prettier than the Duchess of Devonshire.

Yeah.

On the other hand, the plotting of the mystery is excellent and the murders are always extremely interesting. They read like plots Agatha Christy might have come up with if she was writing about Regency Britain.

The Beau Brummel mystery series has the distinction of being better plotted than another series of novels solved by real life historical figures of the Regency Era, i.e. the Jane Austen mystery series. Neither of them has the distinction of having main characters as witty as their real life counterparts. The Amateur Historian's advice on the disappointing repartee in both?

If you are going to have someone famous for their wit as your main character, you have to make them witty. This is one case where shameless plagerism of someone else's aphorisms and quips is a really good idea.

March To The Scaffold - Symphonie Fantastique Movement 4

2010-12-08T17:25:00.000-05:00

Apologies Gentle Readers, the Amateur Historian meant to post this in honor of the anniversary of the debut of Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique on December 5th, but had some techincal issues trying to figure out how to link to specific times in youtube videos.

A Google search has since remedied this problem, and so the Amateur Historian would therefore like to discuss her favorite section of the Symphonie Fantastique, the fourth movement. This symphony follows a young Romantic, desperately in love with a woman who distains to even look at him. In the fourth movement, the young Romantic ODs on opium and hallucinates that he's killed his beloved and been condemned to the guillotine. After he's marched up to the scaffold, he takes a moment to think of his beloved (there is a pre-Wagnerian lietmotif associated with his beloved which returns in each movement) and then his head gets chopped off. And, best of all, there's two notes as his head thunks down two steps.

Oh Romanticism. You make the macabre kind of hilarious.

The French Revolution ("Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga)

2010-12-08T17:16:00.000-05:00

Well, look what the Amateur Historian's friends kindly link her to, to save her the trouble of searching for these things on youtube herself. I would like to warn my Gentle Readers that the singing is actually painful and the background music is of the bad electronica variety found on the worst sorts of karoke machines, but it's....

Factual. Ish.

And probably the worst of all the videos the Amateur Historian has inflicted on you Gentle Readres. Including the one where Salieri got molested by a clown.

Turkies, penguins... they're both birds!

2010-11-25T09:36:00.000-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving to those Gentle Readers who celebrate it! Have hundreds of Napoleon look-alikes sliding on the ice on their bellies and feel better about your turkey-filled one.

So this is why France has socialized health care!

2010-11-19T09:32:00.000-05:00

Apparently the rest of this week is ust going to be "funny commercials starting Napoleon", so you have fair warning, Gentle Readers.

For those Gentle Readers who do not speak French, the ad goes:
Napoleon: Long live France! Long live the Republic! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaah! (charges!)
Horse: (whinnies)
Napoleon: But what are you doing, I said, 'Long live France'?!
General: It's not possible! We don't have any insurance.
Napoleon: But why?!
General: It's very expensive!

Garmin 2008 60 second Super Bowl Commercial

2010-11-18T09:27:00.000-05:00

Look what the Amateur Historian's youtube trawling has unearthed now! The real reason why Napoleon kept his hand tucked in his coat, according to the makers of Garmin.

Clearly not a fan of France.

2010-11-15T19:45:00.001-05:00

The 1830 French war with Algeria is, in the opinion of the Amateur Historian, more than a little odd. For one thing, it was orchestrated by the French king Charles X to distract French people from his absolutest policies (they weren't) and to rouse a feeling of French pride and patriotism via colonization that was planned to rival England's(it didn't) and for another, it had such a very odd beginning.

During the Napoleonic invasion of Egypt, the French bought a large amount of grain from Algeria and, after thirty or so years, the Dey of Algiers expectedly wanted to know when he was going to get paid. The French consul was not forthcoming nor was he particularly polite, so the Dey hit the French consul on the arm with a fly-swatter/fan made out of feathers.

Somehow, this was given as an acceptable excuse to take over Algeria.

If nautical nonsense be something you wish....

2010-11-11T21:57:00.001-05:00

Occasionally, parents have supportive comments when their offspring run off with significant others. Some parents simply have funny ones.

When James Joyce ran off with Nora Barnacle, Mr. Joyce was said to comment, "She'll certainly stick to him."

Le Bien qui fait Mal - Mozart l'Opéra Rock

2010-11-01T14:43:00.000-04:00

Ah ha, Gentle Readers, to what depths does the Amateur Historian distain to trwal through to present you the oddest historically related material on youtube?

Here is the stage version of Le Bien qui fait Mal! There are, alas, no clowns, but there are a lot of scantily clad interprative dancers frolicking in front of a chamber orchestra who clearly don't care about what's going on in front of them. Unfortunately one does not see Salieri as he makes his prehistoric cry of rage, but one can see Mozart rocking out in lieu of, you know, actually conducting his music, and, after the song you can see him get hit upside the head by his in-laws, some of whom are dress more accurately than others. The Amateur Historian, for one, would like to know where Constanze Mozart's sleeves went.

Le bien qui fait mal Clip Officiel

2010-11-01T00:42:00.000-04:00

Ah ha, Gentle Readers, here is something decidedly more in the spirit of Halloween! Here is another gem carefully mined from Mozart l'Opera Rock, where Salieri once again hears some of Mozart's work and seems to dive straight down into the tormented depths of his id, as represented by interprative dancers. Pay attention at 2:14, where I think the Emperor of Austria wanders in to act as Salieri's very forboding superego and at 2:19 where Salieri is inexplicably molested by a clown and makes his signature dying pterodactyl noise once again.

Dudley Moore Beethoven Sonata Parody

2010-11-01T00:35:00.000-04:00

The Amateur Historian is extremely fond of Beethoven, but often feels quite sorry for the pianists who must tackle the more Romantic sonatas.

On an unrelated note that certainly betrays the Amateur Historian's country of origion, Happy Halloween to those Gentle Readers that celebrate it!

Mozart l'Opéra Rock: Roll Over Beethoveen, Mozart Needs the Extra Room to Spin

2010-10-14T23:46:00.000-04:00

Though the Amateur Historian is very fond of French opera, she must confess herself confused by this latest work adorning the French stage. Mozart l'Opera Rock is, you guessed it, a rock opera about Mozart. The action of the play seems to be loosely based on the play Amadeus. This rock opera is a rich mine of absurdity, but the Amateur Historian would like to pull out this particular gem for her Gentle Readers. In this song, 'L'Assasymphonie', Salieri develops a suicide wish after hearing The Marriage of Figaro and proceeds to sing about it and to try and cut his wrists with a conductor's baton.

The Amateur Historian's favorite moment, however, is the highly symbolic one around 3:40 where Salieri, unable to contain his emotions to mere words or melody, makes a noise like a dying pterodactyl.

Gee, You Shouldn't Have

2010-10-03T12:14:00.000-04:00

To continue on in our exploration of Balzac, his mother had a very ambivalent relationship with him, eventually prefering his brother, the product of an illict affair with a local landowner, to her first-born, the Coffee Addict.

At least she did have some sense of who her son was, as, when she drew up her will in the cholera epidemic of 1830, she left everything to her son-born-of-adultery... save a small coffee pot, which she left to Balzac.

I bet he would be great at NaNoWriMo

2010-09-30T23:49:00.000-04:00

Balzac's amazing productivity has other sources besides copious quantities of caffine. It seems to be attributed to a. a lot of debts, b. the necessity of making more money and c. self-will.

In an interesting combination of tthe three, Balzac was once called to court, having recieved several advances on a novel that was due two months ago. He was charged and his extremely angry editor demanded a novel within twenty-four hours.

Balzac managed to extend his sentance to twenty-four days, filled said days with coffee and had a finished novel in twenty.

(He did, however, lock himself in a room for twenty-four hours with nothing besides his writing supplies, coffee and a chamberpot and produced a short story. The Amateur Historian would like to profess her total lack of surprise that Balzac had heart troubles later in life and eventually died of a heart attack.)

Coffee Coffee Buzz Buzz

2010-09-29T09:26:00.000-04:00

I have, in the past, provided a list of guidelines to becoming a romantic poet. Now, Gentle Reader, I can just hear your protestations: "That's all well and good, but I prefer the novel!"

But of course, Gentle Reader! If you want to be a prolific Romantic novelist (well technically realist), try Balzac's routine:

1. Go to bed at 6pm.
2. Wake up at 1 am. Have coffee.
3. Write until 8am, at which point have more coffee, followed by a garganutuan meal of a consomme, steak, a salad, a desert and more coffee.
4. Write/correct printer's proofs/attend to extensive corespondance until 4pm. Have coffee.
5. Visit with friends until 6pm, then eat again and go to sleep.

The real secret to this success, however, is the fifty cups of coffee Balzac consumed every day. In fact,his first debt was to a servant at his boarding school, for coffee and sugar.

In short, Gentle Reader, coffee is the opium of novelists. Better go dig out those Starbuck's gift cards!

Certain Regal Noncomformities

2010-09-22T10:50:00.001-04:00

The Amateur Historian is a great admirer of the play The Madness of George III, which became the excellent (if somewhat horrifying, when one sees the medical treatments in vogue in the eighteenth century) film The Madness of King George. The playwright, Alan Bennet, said that one of the reasons he chose to write about George III was because he liked his sense of humor and offers this example.

One day during the king's illness, the king's equerry, Manners, saw that His Majesty had decided to hide underneath a couch in lieu of waiting for his dinner. With perfect composure, Manners set a place on the floor in front of the couch, bowed and began to walk out backwards.

The king, still under the couch, replied, "That was very good... manners."

La Jaconde

2010-09-11T21:02:00.000-04:00

On the subject of Napoleon and Josephine's boudoir, once Napoleon became First Counsol, he and Josephine moved to the Tuileries palace. Josephine did not like their lodgings, first of all because she felt haunted by the spirit of Marie Antoinette, and second of all, because she objected to Napoleon's sense of interior decoration.

That is to say, Napoleon had hung the Mona Lisa in their bedroom and Josephine got extremely jealous of the painting and had him move it- first to his bathroom and then to the Louvre, where it hangs to this day, amid all the other bits of cultural patrimony Napoleon took from other parts of Europe and neglected to give back once he was deposed.

om nom nom Napoleon

2010-09-10T20:55:00.000-04:00

Lap dogs were common accessories for both men and women in the latter half of the eighteenth and the early part of the nineteenth century. In fact, when strolling through a gallery of eighteenth century portraits, one often begins to think that we have spent the last two hundred years in the perfection of the pug.

Pugs were also a favorite of the Empress Josephine. Before she married one Napoleon Bonaparte, she had a pug named Fortuné, with whom Napoleon did not get along. Fortuné returned the compliment in full and, on Josephine and Napoleon's wedding night, bit the future emperor in the calf.

It is rumored that once Josephine became Empress of the French, she sent messages to her husband by hiding them under Fortuné's collar. One would hope that Fortuné still did not have its particular taste for greatness.

At least no one guessed a platypus

2010-08-30T22:04:00.000-04:00

Continuing with the same topic of Millais's Ophelia, there was, at one point, a water vole in the upper corner of the painting. Herein is a brief history of this mysterious aquatic mammal:

October 28th. My man, Young, brought me a rat after breakfast. Began painting it swimming when the governor [his father] made his appearance, bringing money, and sat with me whilst at work. After four hours rat looked exactly like a drowned kitten.

October 29th. Cleaned out the rat, which looked like a lion, and enlarged picture.

November 6th. Beautiful morning; much warmer than yesterday. Was advised by Hunt to paint the rat, but felt disinclined. After much inward argument took the large box containing Ophelia's background out beside Hunt, who again was to paint the sheep. By lunch time had nearly finished rat most successfully.

November 7th. After breakfast examined the rat. From some doubtful feeling as to its perfect portraiture determined to retouch it. Young made his appearance, with another rat, and (for Hunt) a new canvas from the carrier at Kingston. Worked very carefully at the rat, and finally succeeded to my own and everyone's taste.

December 4th. Hunt's uncle and aunt came, both of whom understood most gratifyingly every object except my water-rat, which the male relation (when invited to guess at it) eagerly pronounced to be a hare. Perceiving by our smile that he had made a mistake, a rabbit was next hazarded, after which I have a faint recollection of a dog or cat being mentioned by the spouse, who had brought with her a sponge-cake and bottle of sherry, of which we partook at luncheon. Mutual success and unblemished happiness was whispered over the wine, soon after which they departed in a pony-chaise. Laughed greatly over the day, H. and self.

Deciding that he did not like the particular ambiguity of his water rat, Millais eventually erased it entirely.

Feed the Birds

2010-08-21T16:54:00.000-04:00

Though it is more usually said that to feed the birds, one can pay tuppance a bag, the French musician Berlioz had a more unusual practice.

Berlioz first arrived in Paris as a medical student, a profession he rather famously detested, to the point of defenestration, the first time he had a dissection lab. However, he was forced back into the lab and, though he worked with the windows open, he did not jump out any of them. Instead, he watched the sparrows that flew through and fed them bits of dissected lung.

Yum.

Fop 'til you drop!

2010-07-22T13:30:00.000-04:00

The Amateur Historian devotes a not inconsiderable portion of her life trying to find absurd videos on youtube and has found, yet again, one of the more... bizarre contemporary interpretations of eighteenth century culture.

Gentle Readers, I present to you, Prince Poppycock:

Really Giving Her an Earful

2010-07-20T09:12:00.000-04:00

Vincent van Gogh's missing ear is a subject of much amusement and bemusement. According to popular rumor, van Gogh cut off his ear in the city of Arles, in Provence, as a gift to a lady of negotiable affection who did not take an interest in him. The people of Arles- particularly the gendarmerie, the local police force- like to point out that the records show a different story.

the artist Gauguin was paying a visit to M. van Gogh, when the later became extremely violent, threatened to kill Gauguin and accidentally cut off his own ear. Gaughin left Arles, and M. van Gogh, in his drunken state, decided that the best thing to do was to wander outside, give his ear to the first prostitute he saw in a nearby brothel, then pass out in his own blood in his room.

It is little wonder why the people of Arles only really liked M. van Gogh once he left them.

2010-07-17T15:48:00.000-04:00

Today Alfred, Lord Tennyson is the butt of Dorothy Parker's wit:

Should Heaven send me any son,
I hope he's not like Tennyson.
I'd rather have him play a fiddle
Than rise and bow and speak an idyll.

2010-07-16T15:45:00.000-04:00

Dorthy Parker brings us some wisdom on Thomas Carlyle today:

Carlyle combined the lit'ry life
With throwing teacups at his wife,
Remarking, rather testily,
"Oh, stop your dodging, Mrs. C.!"

2010-07-15T15:43:00.000-04:00

In the spirit of Geroge Sand yesterday, let us turn to two of her contemporaries, Alexandre Dumas and His Son:

Although I work, and seldom cease,
At Dumas pere and Dumas fils,
Alas, I cannot make me care
For Dumas fils and Dumas pere.

2010-07-14T15:41:00.000-04:00

Happy Bastille Day, Gentle Readers! In honor of this holiday, the Amateur Historian would like to provide you all with Dorothy Parker's thoughts on a famous French citizen, George Sand:

What time the gifted lady took
Away from paper, pen, and book,
She spent in amorous dalliance
(They do those things so well in France).

2010-07-13T15:39:00.000-04:00

Dorothy Parker on D. G. Rossetti:

Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Buried all of his libretti,
Thought the matter over - then
Went and dug them up again.

2010-07-12T15:35:00.000-04:00

Today Dorothy Parker takes on Oscar Wilde:

If with the literate I am
Impelled to try an epigram,
I never seek to take the credit;
We all assume that Oscar said it.

2010-07-11T15:20:00.000-04:00

Today, the Amateur Historian would like to kick off a week of poetry about poets from the 19th century, or, to be entirely truthful, Gentle Reader, the wonderful wit of Dorothy Parker in her A Pig's Eye View of Literature.

We begin with:

The Lives and Times of John Keats,
Percy Bysshe Shelley, and
George Gordon Noel, Lord Byron

Byron and Shelley and Keats
Were a trio of Lyrical treats.
The forehead of Shelley was cluttered with curls,
And Keats never was a descendant of earls,
And Byron walked out with a number of girls,
But it didn't impair the poetical feats
Of Byron and Shelley,
Of Byron and Shelley,
Of Byron and Shelley and Keats.