Today’s post is mostly a link that I think you will enjoy. I have spoken in the past about how fascinating I find people in the past’s view of the past. There is also, of course, the question of how people in the past saw the future. The answer in many cases is apparently “dumbly”. 

 Image

Yeah, the coming war in the Pacific is going to be won by America’s dirigible fleet, all right. (Although that actually wasn’t as loony as it sounds given the limitations in long-range scouting at the time this article was written, I guess.)

Anyway, this image (it’s larger in the original) is from the excellent Modern Mechanix blog. It has hundreds — hell, thousands, I don’t know — of articles and ads from old Modern Mechanics, from the turn of the century up into the 80s but mostly concentrated in the golden age of kitsch, unlikely futurism, lazy consumerism, technological gee-whizzery and unexamined racism. It is amazing

Advertisements
Aside

Pisse not upon their ashes

Image

When you study the funerary practices of Anglo-Saxon England, sooner or later you’re going to come across Sir Thomas Browne. This is weird because, although Thomas Browne wrote about the funerary practices of the early English, he didn’t know shit about them. His work on the subject, Hydriotaphia, or Urne-Buriall, is really just (I say “just”) about memory and mortality, together with an overview of the burial customs of what I do not feel unjustified in calling “the ancients”.

Now, the photo above is of my copy of this book in the Penguin Great Ideas series, but that is not where I first read it — that was in a much older version, which made the crucial point of including the “Epistle to the Reader” that goes with this. I say crucial because it is the Epistle ( you can read it here) which includes this utterly fascinating quote:

When the bones of King Arthur were digged up, the old Race might think, they beheld therein some Originals of themselves; Unto these of our Urnes none here can pretend relation, and can only behold the Reliques of those persons, who in their life giving the Laws unto their predecessors, after long obscurity, now lye at their mercies. But remembring the early civility they brought upon these Countreys, and forgetting long passed mischiefs; We mercifully preserve their bones, and pisse not upon their ashes.

Now, when reading this, you’ll be bumbling along, thinking “silly old Browne thinks the ashes in the urns are Roman rather than Anglo-Saxon so he thinks that they’re not his ancestors, unlike King Arthur, whereas actually he’s probably more closely — wait, what?!

Pisse upon … what?

“Pisse not upon their ashes” is one of those “don’t do it” phrases that isn’t at all comforting. It’s like if you were sitting next to a guy on a bus and he turned to you and just slowly said “don’t worry. I’m not gonna eat your eyes.” Well, I wasn’t worried until just now. Did Thomas Browne know a lot of people whose first thought when they saw a funerary urn was “yep, I bet a smart fella could pee on that”?

Well, possibly.

(I could swear I’ve written this all somewhere before. It’s not unlikely; I do love Thomas Browne.)

Anyway, as you may know, my PhD thesis was about something called charcoal burial, which is where you get a body laid on a thick layer of charcoal. You also find burials lined with ash in the middle ages. Now, it may be that these are symbols of penitence — St Martin was big on lying on a bed of ashes, for instance — but it may also be that it has a hygienic purpose, with the idea of the ashes or charcoal being to absorb fluids from a decomposing body and keep the grave clean. Late Anglo-Saxon culture was very big on keeping everything clean, clean, clean.

So could it be that what Thomas Browne is saying is that an urn full of ashes looks like a chamber pot to him? I mean, it would make sense to line the interior of a chamber pot with a layer of some kind of absorbent (technically adsorbent, and you can thank that PhD for my knowing that fact) material like ash? Like a cat’s litter box, in fact. In a lot of ways, it seems like it would be a good idea.

The problem is that we know, for instance, that chamber pots sometimes had the faces of politicians people didn’t like, or Napoleon or whoever, on the inside (those are later than Browne, but I imagine the tech remained pretty unchanged). Here, for instance, is one with Captain Basil Hall, the guy who pissed off (hah!) 19th-century Americans by writing a rude book about their country (I imagine Isabella Bird was aware of this). Here is a slightly weirder one: “congratulations! I sent you a chamber pot with a picture of a little man who looks up at your genitals!”

Additionally, I can’t, in my admittedly unscientific quick search, find any reference to the practice of ashes being put in chamber pots, except for a little one here. And yes, I love the fact that there exists not only a chamber pot glossary but a chamber pot glossary so huge it has to be broken down into individual letters.

I’m not sure that means there weren’t ashes in what was known as “the article.” There may have been. If there isn’t, we’re back to square one with Thomas Browne, Pee Weirdo.

Pee Weirdo or not, Thomas Browne wrote some amazing sentences. Every time I hear someone writing something that’s supposed to sound old-timey, going all theesy-thousy and coming out sounding like The Mighty Thor, Thomas Browne leaps into my head and gives them a kick in the area. Observe:

To be knav’d out of our graves, to have our sculs made drinking-bowls, and our bones turned into Pipes, to delight and sport our Enemies, are Tragicall abominations, escaped in burning Burials.

Personally, I think modern funeral directors should play that point up more: if you get cremated, your enemies will never turn your bones into a flute!

Although their bulk be disproportionable to their weight, when the heavy principle of Salt is fired out, and the Earth almost only remaineth; Observable in sallow, which makes more Ashes than Oake; and discovers the common fraud of selling Ashes by measure, and not by ponderation.

Some bones make best Skeletons, some bodies quick and speediest ashes: Who would expect a quick flame from Hydropicall Heraclitus?

That’s right, it’s a sly dig at market traders, then an effortless shift into a groan-worthy joke about pre-Socratic philosophy. You can’t fuck with that. Also, this passage sounds best if you put a long pause in before “ponderation,” then hit it with a knowing emphasis.

Right, OK. Hopefully I have convinced you that Thomas Browne is amazing and also maybe that chamber pots were like a kind of human litter tray. My work here is done.

Aside

I am not sure if I can explain how I determine whether something is interesting from a gonzo history perspective, but let’s take a look at an example. On Friday, I was in Canterbury with an hour and a bit to kill, and as is the ancient custom of my people I was looking through the bookshelves in charity shops. While doing this, I came upon this:

Image

Now, for a moment I thought that this might be an interesting read for Gonzo History, until I flipped through it. It has some funny bits — the antichrist is apparently Silvio Berlusconi, of all people — but mostly it is just conspiracy gibberish and all tiresomely predictable. It is what I call a “symptom” — that is, the detached ravings of a kook rather than a genuinely gonzohistorical phenomenon. “Kook” might be mean; I mean, dude could really need actual help.

To provide contrast, I pulled this one from my bookshelf:

Image

It’s not just that this is Phrenology, the organ of the British Phrenological Society (Inc.) but that it is the careers issue. The careers issue, I ask you! Far from the ravings of a kook, this is pseudoscience — and seriously, a pseudoscience that a child could see through; you only have to read their account of their trip to the National Portrait Gallery to go “hang on a moment” — as a more or less respectable facet of society, with this very staid, respectable journal and a careers issue. That is way weirder than some guy that thinks that Silvio Berlusconi’s media empire and Catholicism make him obvious Antichrist material and can’t even keep his fictional Screwtape Letters bullshit steady for ten minutes.

Further selections from the relevant shelves to follow.

Aside

By the way, if …

By the way, if you are a history nerd and you are not signed up to the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography’s Life of the Day, you are missing out. Check it out here. An ODNB entry to your inbox every weekday! Oh, sometimes you get some guy you don’t care about — I find it hard to care about architects, for instance — but occasionally you get someone where the profession entry reads “assassin”, and that makes it all worthwhile. 

Aside

As I mentioned …

Image

As I mentioned previously, I gave a talk on Monday at Treadwell’s Books. I bring this up for a couple of reasons, but mainly because I want to talk about good bookshops in general. 

Every year, some beloved independent bookstore goes out of business — just a few years ago, Cambridge saw the demise of Galloway and Porter, a small shop that had been part of the city’s landscape for over 100 years, and I genuinely felt as if I had lost … well, an acquaintance anyway. But with Amazon and ebay and whatnot, it’s clear that it’s harder and harder for an independent bookstore to survive. As far as I can see, there are two things one can do. 

The first thing is to be cheap as dirt. I wouldn’t say Treadwell’s is cheap as dirt, but it’s definitely inexpensive. Some of the rarer items have some sticker shock attached to them, but it isn’t terrible. The second thing is to do some kind of full-service job, and that’s where Treadwell’s stands out. As you can see from the site, they’re constantly hosting lectures and talks and classes and events and whatnot, and they also do a good job of matching you to the books you want without seeming like they’re hard-selling you. 

I have very little use for a bookstore if I already know what book I want. But … late last year, I was browsing around in Treadwell’s when I came across this book. It’s a social and artistic history of lavatories, and it’s both genuinely educational and completely hilarious. I bought it, intending to give it to a friend as a Christmas gift, but I wound up not seeing him over the holidays, so when he moved a couple of months later my wife and I gave it to him as a housewarming gift. Waste not, want not. 

Image

The point of my story is that when I took the book to the counter, the person working there said, and I quote, “oh, good. We were all hoping this one would find a home for Christmas.” That pleases me. Like I say, I don’t need a bookshop to help me find a book I already want — although its help in spending less on a book I already want is gratefully received — but it’s hard to replicate this experience anywhere but a weird little bookstore. 

Don’t let the description and the website fool you, by the way: Treadwell’s casts its nets wide. The occult stuff is a big part of what it does, but it has a lot of oddball history. And that, as you know, is pretty much why I get up in the morning. 

I know this sounds like an ad, and it is, in the sense that I want people to share the things that I like, but it’s also a request — do you have shops you feel the same way about? 

Aside