Showing posts with label lists. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lists. Show all posts

Thursday, 3 March 2011

Robert Hooke is better than you

Today marks 308 years since the death of Robert Hooke, whom I know of because of having to learn Hooke's Law for AS Physics. (The extension of a spring is proportional to the force or load applied to it, or F = ke if you were wondering.) ((I know you weren't.)) Anyway, I thought he was just that bloke who did that thing with bits of wire or whatever it was that I knew at one point but now I just vaguely recall was important somehow. But he totally wasn't! Robert Hooke did lots of things; and here's a lovely list of his top ten achievements, chosen by me:

1) Being the last of four children living on the Isle of Wight, Hooke obviously wasn't in a position to go very far in life - or so it seemed. He took 20 lessons on the organ, however, and gained a chorister's place at Christ Church, Oxford, where he was introduced to many of the leading scientific thinkers of his day.

2) Hooke was one of the very first people to use a microscope to see cells (in cork, apparently), and so gave them the name 'cell', because he believed that they resembled the small quarters monks lived in.

3) He invented the balance spring in a watch independently and fifteen years before anyone else did (though others get the credit mainly because he was didn't patent his design).

4) He was an extremely talented artist - the picture on the right is a copy of his drawing of a louse - who drew pictures of anything he could find to stick under his microscope. 

5) He built a lot of specialized equipment for himself and other prominent scientists of the day to use when experimenting, one of the most famous examples being his invention of the vacuum pumps Robert Boyle used during his gas law experiments.

6) He was a well-known architect of his day, with building all over London being made to his specifications (though sadly few survive today).

7) He also built some of the first telescopes, and used them to study the planets, becoming an expert on the rotations of Mars and Jupiter.

8) After the Great Fire of London, in 1666, Hooke was asked to be one of the city's official Surveyors, tasked with assessing the damage caused by the fire, and the cost of repairs - an important job, given that 70,000 of the city's 80,000 inhabitants had their homes at least partially destroyed.

9) He was one of the first people to put forward an argument for biological evolution from looking at fossils - a very risky argument in the seventeenth century, given the status of the church.

10) Hooke argued with Isaac Newton about laws of gravity. And not many people can say that.  

Thursday, 24 February 2011

A biography of Handel

Yesterday, it was the 326th anniversary of the birth of George Frideric Handel and today is the 300th anniversary of the first performance of Rinaldo, an opera he composed which also happened to be the first Italian opera written for the London stage. I think the universe is hinting to me that it is time I wrote about Handel (which, handily, is code for "I really like lists").
10 Facts About George Frederic Handel:

1) When he was born, Handel's father was already 63, and had high hopes for his son. He envisaged a career in law for the boy, but it soon became apparent that he had an enormous talent for music - and not only this, but he enjoyed spending hours playing instruments. Georg Handel Sr. was so alarmed by this development that he strictly forbade his son from going near any musical instrument, but Handel Jr. was having none of this. He somehow found a way to sneak a clavichord (a kind of early keyboard) into an attic room at the top of his house, and he would creep up there at night when everyone had gone to bed, to teach himself how to play.

2) During Handel's early teens, he took a trip with his father to go and visit his half-brother Carl, who at the time was a valet to Duke Johann Adolf I. Legend has it that whilst he was there, the Duke overheard him playing on the church organ, and was delighted by what he heard. This helped Handel to convince his father that he should be allowed lessons in composition and keyboard technique, and so he studied under Friedrich Wilhelm Zachow. During this time, he played for Frederick I of Prussia, and met many contemporary composers, including Bononcini and Telemann.

3) In 1702, Handel went to the University of Halle to study Law as his father had wished, but did not enjoy it. After only a year, he dropped out and became instead a violinist at the Hamburg Opera House. Between 1705 and 1708, he wrote and possibly directed four operas which were performed there.

4) Handel met a member of the famous de' Medici family around 1706, and accepted their invitation to spend some time living in Rome with them. At the time, operatic music was banned by the Papal States, so instead he composed choral music for the church for performances in the city. He continued, however, to write operas which were performed elsewhere in Europe, including Agrippina, which had a then unprecedented run of 27 performances, and was the object of much critical acclaim. 

5) In 1710, Handel became Kapellmeister to the man who was soon to become King George I of England, and so moved to London when George did, in 1714. A Kapellmeister was a man who was in charge of music-making, and so Handel's role for the rest of his life was to compose as much music as possible, something he did to great aplomb.In July 1717, the Water Music was performed for the first time along the Thames, where it went down a storm. At around this point also, Handel decided that he was bored of composing operas, and ignored them entirely for about five years.

6) Fiscally, Handel was very lucky - he invested in the famous South Sea Company in 1716, but managed to sell his stocks in 1720, before the bubble burst, leaving him a very rich man. During his lifetime, he was heavily involved with charities, and gave much money to the Foundling Hospital in London, as well as to charities which helped impoverished musicians and their families.

7) His time in Britain can be split into three main periods. Between 1719 and 1734, he was employed by the Royal Academy of Music, during which time he continued to compose at an extremely fast rate. Some of his most famous works from this time include the operas Giulio Cesare and Rodelinda and Zadok the Priest, which he was commissioned to write for the coronation of George II, and has been been performed at every coronation ceremony since.

8) After his contract at the Royal Academy ended, it was expected by many people that Handel would retire; instead he chose to start a new company with his friend John Rich at Covent Garden Theatre. From 1734 until 1741, he composed whilst Rich directed, introducing many more theatrical elements to the performances for some of the first times. During this period, in the summer of 1737, Handel, aged 52, suffered a stroke. It was assumed he would never be able to perform, let alone compose, again, as the illness had seemed to affect his understanding, but he took himself off to a German spa town, where he would spend many hours a day in the hot baths. He was able to give impromptu piano recitals to the surprised costumers of the spa, and by the following year was well enough to return to composing in London.

9) His later life produced some of his most prolific works. On 13 April 1742, 26 men and five boys put on the first performance of the Messiah, a piece that remains as popular today as it was on first performance. A few years later, in 1749, he wrote the Music for the Royal Fireworks, and when it premiered, over 10,000 people attended. This was to be his last major composition - in August 1750 he suffered serious injury in a carriage accident and a couple of years later, he went blind. He survived until 1759, when he finally died on 14 April.

10) He was given a state funeral in Westminster Abbey, and over 3,000 mourners attended. His works had been incredibly popular, and though in the nineteenth century they were to fall out of favour, in more recent years he has regained his popularity. He never married, and in his will he left most of his possessions to his niece Johanna, though his art collection was auctioned posthumously. Often referred to as the "musician's musician", Handel was a favourite of Bach, who attempted to meet him on several occasions but was always unsuccessful, and later Mozart and Beethoven, who described him as, "he master of us all... the greatest composer that ever lived. I would uncover my head and kneel before his tomb".     

Thursday, 20 January 2011

15 Reasons Why Wars Are Utterly Stupid & Daft:

15 Reasons Why Wars Are Utterly Stupid & Daft:

A list which came about because I am in the middle of revising for my final exam on the history of warfare, a topic I loathe, and the only interesting facts I manage to find about the battles are ones that are far to trivial to write about in an essay
and
because I like lists a lot. 
1) Shoes are important:
The Battle of Gettysburg, in 1863, remains the largest battle ever to have been fought on American soil. Ever. And do you know why it came about? Confederate General Robert E. Lee's army had no shoes, and when they found themselves outside the small Pennsylvanian town of Gettysburg, they thought to themselves, 'Oh hey guys, these Northerners have lots of shoes! Let's go raid the town for them!'. So they did. Where they happened to bump into the massive Union army, and realized that they'd better start fighting. The Confederates lost the battle, sadly, so I don't think they got any shoes at the end of it all. Sadface.

2) No really, they are: 
My friend Phil told me this story: during the Crimean War, the British were hopelessly disorganised, and decided to send all the left boots down to the Crimea on one ship, and all the right ones on another. And one of the ships sank. You couldn't make it up...

3) Actually, the whole of the Crimean War was a bit of a farce: 
I feel a bit bad making fun of the Charge of the Light Brigade, because so many people died, which is obviously a horrible thing, and would've been devastating for their families and everything, but the whole thing was completely preventable. British cavalry were given the order to charge up the 'Valley of Death', waving their swords about, whilst the Russians blasted them to pieces with cannons on all sides, thinking the British must be drunk.

4) To be honest, most nineteenth century wars were totally ridiculous:
Take the Franco-Austrian War of 1859, for example. It's a fairly insignificant one, in the grand scheme of things, but one thing it is famous for is the fact that the French had the bright idea to utilize the new railways to get their troops to the battlefield fresh and ready to fight, whereas the Austrians went on a two week march to get there. Anyway, the Austrians eventually cottoned on to this train business, and sent their reserve force to the next battle this way. Except they got off at the wrong station and completely missed the battle. Really.

5) And if they weren't missing battles, they were being inadequately prepared:
So a few years later, in 1870, the French were fighting the Prussians, and they had this amazing new weapon, called the matrielleuse. It was a forerunner to the machine gun, so if you were into slaughtering innocent soldiers, it should totally have been your weapon of choice. The Prussians should have been completely wiped out, but they weren't, because the French soldiers hadn't been trained in how to use their new gun, so it was effectively completely pointless.
 
6) Still, at least the French actually had an army:
After Charles II was restored to the throne, Parliament wanted to control his actions as they were afraid he'd do what his father had done, and plunge the country into Civil War again. Their solution, therefore, was to pay for and control the Navy, whilst allowing Charles an army only if he promised to pay for it himself. (Which, y'know, doesn't seem like the brightest move ever - 'Of course you can have an army! Just as long as you're in total control of it, not us! That'll ensure you won't try to attack us or anything...') In the end, Charles didn't attack the MPs (he was too busy partying and being a closet Catholic, two things which totally go together...) but for many years, the English army wasn't officially recognised as such, and the country at least technically had no army. 

7) However rubbish and unofficial the English army was, at least it wasn't full of sheep:
So the Civil Wars themselves were very complex, and their origins even more so, but one of the reasons they occurred was because Charles I needed money from Parliament for a war he was fighting in Scotland - the Bishops' War. In this war, England and Scotland were fighting over Bibles (as you do...), but the English army was much larger than the Scottish one, so the Scottish generals found themselves in a bit of a quandary. They decided that if they could trick the English into thinking their army was much larger than it was, they might be unwilling to fight them - and this plan turned out to be a good one. They did indeed manage to trick the English, by padding out their ranks with sheep, whom the English thought were...particularly woolly soldiers? God knows how this one worked...

8) Mind you, at least they weren't being paid in wool:
During the 100 Years' War, coinage was in short supply, so the English soldiers were paid in sacks of wool. Because all a fighting bloke really wants to do is learn to knit...

9) And about that '100' Years' War business:
Yeah, it actually lasted 116 years. But looking on the bright side, standards in numeracy had improved immeasurably by the time the Seven Years' War rolled round, and that ended bang on time, in 1763.

10) Also, at least numeric names make sense:
100 Years' War, 30 Years' War, Seven Years' War - they're all fairly logical, no? War of 1812 - that's another fairly self-explanatory one. The War of Jenkins' Ear...yeah, perhaps not. Though thinking about it, it started because Captain Jenkins had his Ear cut off by Spanish coast guards, so the name isn't that daft, even if the war itself was...

11) If you thought the names of wars were daft, wait until you hear what's going on on the battlefield:
So there's a very famous miscommunication about the First World War, where some field commander or another sent a message via telegram saying, "We're going to war, send reinforcements" but this got mistranslated and ended up as "We're going to a ball, send three and fourpence", and I can kind of see how this happened but honestly, didn't anyone think to check if this was the right message, coming from, y'know, a battlefield. War does this to people...  

12) Sometimes, people switch sides in the middle of conflicts:
Have you ever watched a children's cartoon and seen one of those montages where the good guys chase the monster through a door, then you see them turning around with the monster chasing them, then next thing you know, they're chasing the monster again, and no one knows what's going on? You have? Good. Visualize that happening in real life, 'cause it did: in 1460, the Earl of Warwick invaded (I'm assuming from some far distant land, and not, y'know, the well known island of Warwickshire...) captured Henry VI and installed Edward IV on the throne. Ten years later, in 1470, Warwick invaded again (oh who knows, maybe the Midlands were suffering from a lot of flooding around that time...), this time reinstalling Henry VI. You couldn't make it up...


13) We didn't get much better in World War Two either:
So Dunkirk was this terribly disorganised thing, where a load of British soldiers were trapped on a beach in Normandy with German soldiers advancing towards them and readying their planes to fly over and drop bombs on them, so the government requisitioned every ship on the south coast, even little two or three man fisher-boats to go out and rescue them, and they managed it, securing the rescue of the soldiers trapped on the beaches. In fact, everyone was so elated by the events that Winston Churchill had to make a special radio broadcast reminding the country that this wasn't actually a victory - in fact, it was a pretty awful defeat.


14)Anyway, sometimes you don't even need to fight, you can just employ a terrible euphemism plonk your warship in someone else's harbour:
As the British did when the Portuguese threatened to renege on their promise to grant independence to Brazil. No shots were fired and no fighting happened, but a stern warning was issued, and the best ship in the Navy set sail for Lisbon just to reinforce the point.

15) And sometimes, you just need to sound convincing:
In 1823, President James Monroe issued the Monroe Doctrine to the rest of the world, which basically said "Hey you guys? Yeah, don't attack us, 'cause we'll so get you back worse". Well, I'm not sure he said it quite like that, but that was definitely the general gist of things. Anyway, Spain and Portugal, who had both been planning to continue or restart old wars, backed down completely upon hearing this. Even though, at the time, the US had no navy and a very poxy little army. So really, all you need to do is sound threatening enough!

Oh my God. Am I condoning bullying?! Oh dear...         

Wednesday, 5 January 2011

Everybody's Gone Serfin'

A few months ago, I wrote about the crisis (of sorts) that led up to the Battle of Hastings, with various people thinking that they were the rightful heir to the English throne after Edward the Confessor's death, which happened today, in 1066. I was going to give you 10 Interesting Facts About Edward the Confessor, seeing as it was him who died today, but I...um...couldn't find that many facts. And they weren't actually that interesting. So instead, I present to you 10 Interesting Facts About William the Conqueror, in the hope that you might find some of these more interesting.

1) "Harold, your Kingliness? Um, I know you've just fought that massive battle at Stamford Bridge and all - and well done for winning, especially as you were fighting your brother, it can't've been easy, but I think you ought to head back down to the south coast, because another fleet of invaders have just landed..."
"Bugger. Who are they?"
"Oh, just some Normans, led by William the Conqueror..."
"William the Conqueror?!"
"Don't worry, it's just a nickname..."

This wasn't how it happened at all. Mostly because William's nickname was bestowed upon him posthumously - during his lifetime he was known as Bill the Bastard (but not to his face), due to the fact that he had indeed been born out of wedlock - his father was the Duke of Normandy before him; his mother, a maid. And also possibly because he did things like nailing people's tongues to planks of wood when they disagreed with him...

2) When Wills arrived on the south coast, he immediately tripped and fell over onto the beach. In a time where people were obsessed with omens, this could have gone down very badly, but according to numerous (Norman) biographies, he turned smiling to his men, and declared "You see - I already have the soil of England within my grasp!". Which is a lovely story and everything, but it's also a quite well told one, too. When Julius Caesar landed in England in 54BC, he was supposed to have done the exact same thing.

Now, this implies that either the man writing William's biography (and it would have been a man  - only monks were taught how to write) was very old, and getting his invaders mixed up, or that he heard the story and thought it would sound very nice in his book, as well obviously showing just how much God was on the side of the Normans, so bunged it in anyway, illustrating beautifully how History is always written by the winners.

(Of course, it could be that William had heard the story, and tripped and fell anyway, but managed to 'recover' from it by remembering what Caesar had said and repeating it to his troops. That could indeed have happened...)


3) As any fool knows, when History is not being written by the winners, it's being stitched by the winners - the classic example of this being the Bayeux Tapestry. The Tapestry, which is over 70 metres long, was commissioned by William's half-brother, Bishop Odo, and an incredibly detailed account of the events in it can be found here. It is an incredibly detailed and incredibly biased account of the lead up to the battle and the battle itself, sewn a few years after it had taken place. Today, it is on display in a museum in Bayeux, but there is a replica copy in the Museum of Reading, made during the Victorian times. It is identical to the original, except for one small scene on the original, which contains a naked man (no one's quite sure why). When the Victorians were restitching the new copy, they gave him a pair of blue shorts.

4) William liked to build things. One of the first things he built was an abbey - or rather, he instructed an abbey to be built on the site where Harold had been killed, which wasn't at Hastings at all. Instead, it was at a place called Senlac, which is a yoghurt for women with bowel problems the Saxon name for a place the Norman's rechristened Battle (displaying stunning creativity). I guess we always call it the Battle of Hastings because the Battle of Battle sounds rather daft...

5) He also built lots of castles. LOTS of castles. The most famous one is probably the Tower of London, though this took a few years to complete. In contrast, the first, at Pevensey was completed within eight days of the Norman conquest - though William probably had a couple of mates helping him with this one. The Motte and Bailey castles served as far more imposing structures than the previous Saxon ones had been, and were the Medieval status symbols, reminding the serfs who their new overlords were.

6) Speaking of the Serfs, it is worth noting that William had a far greater effect on their lives than people initially think. So their lord changed - what was it to them? They still didn't get paid for their labour regardless of whether they were being ruled by a Frenchman or an Englishman, so how could the invasion have had any impact on them? 

The Normans bought in new rules about the ownership of serfs. Whilst it was made illegal for them to be bought and sold at a market, the Anglo-Saxon system of a serf wandering around the country until he found a place he could work was abolished and they were legally tied to the land they worked on, which proved a bit of a bugger if a disaster struck there - sudden flooding for example - as they were forced to remain there and basically starve. 

New rules were also put in place, however, which allowed the serf to complain about any grievances he might have to the local lord. But as the grievances were almost always about the local lord, I can't imagine that this happened too often.

7) Something else which William brought with him as a special gift for the serfs was the class system - well, sort of. The peasants who worked the field spoke Anglo-Saxon English; the Norman knights and barons and churchmen (at least, the higher up ones) spoke French. Obviously these days we all speak English, but a lot of our class system is still influenced by the French language.

For example, pig, cow and deer are all English words, but pork, beef and venison are derived from French - whilst the animal is still rolling around in its own muck, it's English, but as soon as it's served as a meal, it's French. It may not surprise you to learn that our swear words all have Anglo-Saxon derivatives, rather than French...

8) William did a lot of things at Christmas. On Christmas Day 1066, he was crowned King in Westminster Abbey and on Christmas Day 1085, he came up with the really wild and exciting and Christmassy idea of performing a giant tax assessment on the country. 

9) This tax assessment deserves an entry of it's own, as it was of course the Domesday Book. A scribe in each village wrote down every single thing that was in the village and his list was sent down to Winchester for one monk to copy into one enormous book. Whilst the monk did manage omit his own village, he did stick the whole thing online so it's swings and roundabouts, really. The books are actually two separate books - or they were originally - Greater Domesday and Little Domesday. Little Domesday was (obviously...) the bigger of the two, and contained only the information they had collated about East Anglia. Once they saw how much detail they had gone into for this one area of England, the scribes realised there was no way they could finish in time for the deadline unless they cut a few corners through the rest of the country, which is why the other entries go something like: "Cornwall - tin. And fudge." or "Lake District - lake. Lake. Small pond. Bit bigger pond. Lake"...

10) Perhaps the best has been saved until last, though. William died in the summer of 1087 - as was his wont, he had been burning down a town in Normandy when his horse trod on a hot ember, recoiled and threw him off. William died of internal injuries soon after. Whilst he was being buried, a man burst in, demanding monetary compensation for the land that William had supposedly stolen off his father. As there were a number of rather angry looking locals supporting this man, Henry, William's son, hurriedly paid him off and the final acts of the service got underway.

This involved lowering William into his custom built sarcophagus. He was too fat. His body burst open, internal organs spilling everywhere, and the stench of rotting flesh filled the church.

On that note, I bid you farewell.