1867 The birth of Canada
A Happy Dominion Day to my Canadian reader.
I have always said that it was a sad day in Canadian history when the dark powers that ruled the land changed the name of our national celebration to Canada Day. What a weak tea of a term, barren of meaning and historical weight. Pfui! I fart in its general direction.
More tough love
Both my readers will recall an entry a few days ago which chronicled the parenting skills of on Don Alonso Guzman who lent a knife to an enemy threatening to kill Alonso’s son. Today we consider the maternal feelings of one of the Renaissance’s most embattled women, Caterina Sforza.
Caterina (1463-1509) was the illegitimate daughter of the Duke of Milan and was married at age a very early age to Girolamo Riario, nephew of Pope Sixtus IV, lord of a pair of cities in the Romagna, Forli and Imola. She became well known for her intelligence and beauty and quickly gained a reputation for a strong-willed courage which her husband lacked.
In 1488, her husband was murdered and their castle of Forli was under siege. Her children had fallen into the hands of the enemy, the Orsi family, and they in true Italian Renaissance style, threatened to kill the kids if Caterina did not surrender. According to one account, she taunted her foes, exposed her genital, and shouted “Fatelo, se volete: impiccateli pure davanti a me … qui ho quanto basta per farne altri!” (“Do it, if you want to: hang them even in front of me … here I have what’s necessary to make others!”) The Orsis were over-awed and her children were spared.
Caterina was no saint. She ordered murders, dealt with Machiavelli, and went on to endure much more — siege, treason, the murder of yet another husband, rape, and dungeons. She deserves to be better remembered than she is. Those interested should read The Tigress of Forli by Elizabeth Lev.
The Seven Sleepers of Ephesus
Visitors to the magnificent ruins of Ephesus often take time to visit the ancient city’s other religious sites, particularly one of the number of houses each purporting to be the last domicile of the Virgin Mary. They might also drop by a fenced-off hole where, it is said, in the third century seven Christian youths either sought refuge from persecution or were deliberately walled in on the order of pagan officials. These young men then fell into a miraculous sleep from which they only awakened over a century later, by which time the Roman Empire had converted to Christianity. They were able to tell their story to the local bishop before dying. A church was built over the site and locals revered the godly youths. It is said their remains were taken to a church in France.
1292 Tough love
With Father’s Day in the recent past, it is time to consider Francis Bacon’s observation that he who has a wife and children “hath given hostages to fortune; for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief.”
In the 13th century a welter of kingdoms in Spain, both Muslim and Christian, were at war with each other. King Sancho IV of Castile had taken the castle of Tarifa (at the southern tip of the Iberian peninsula) from the Moors and placed its command in the hands of Don Alonso Perez de Guzman who moved into the fortress with his family, all except his son who was in care of the king’s brother John.
John was a bit of weasel who had already rebelled against his brother and been forgiven but in 12921 he turned again on the king. This time he called in Muslim troops from North Africa and besieged Tarifa. John believed that he had, in the son of Don Alonso, a key to an easy surrender of the castle. He had used the threat to kill a child hostage before to great effect and so, showing the bound child to the defenders, shouted “Alonso Perez de Guzman! Know that unless you yield this stronghold to me immediately, you shall behold the death of your own son at my hand!”
Looking down at the prince, the besiegers, and his weeping son, Alonso replied, “I did not beget a son to be made use of against my country, but that he should serve her against her foes. Should Don Juan put him to death, he will but confer honour on me, true life on my son, and on himself eternal shame in this world and everlasting wrath after death. So far am I from yielding this place or betraying my trust, that in case you should need a weapon for your cruel purpose, here is my own knife!” And he threw down his dagger at John’s feet.
John promptly picked up the knife and cut the boy’s throat. His Berber allies were disgusted and eventually the siege was abandoned. Prince John became a pariah and could find no refuge in Christian Spain, living in exile in Muslim Granada.
Don Alozonzo was heaped with honours by his king and his descendants became the Dukes of Medina-Sidonia, the greatest house of Spanish nobility.
The last of the Last Words offerings (for a while):
“It is better to perish here than to kill all these poor beans.” — The ultra-vegetarian Pythagoras, Greek philosopher and mathematician (495 BC), refusing to escape from an angry mob with his students through a fava bean field.
And, Master Kyngston, had I but served God as diligently as I have served the king, he would not have given me over in my gray hairs. But this is my just reward for my pains and study, not regarding my service to God, but only my duty to my Prince.” — Thomas Wolsey, English archbishop, statesman and cardinal (29 November 1530). Henry VIII was a monster whose favour was always short-lived and fatal.
“Stand by me, Tom, and we will die together.”
— Robert Catesby, leader of the Gunpowder Plot to effect the largest mass murder in English history (8 November 1605). Catesby and Thomas Percy were shot by armed men sent to arrest them after the failure of the Catholic uprising. Their fate was easier compared to the hideous tortures visited upon those plotters, like Guy Fawkes, who were captured.
“More weight.”
— Giles Corey, American farmer (19 September 1692), being pressed to death during the Salem witch trials. If one were accused of a crime where the death penalty was thought to be unavoidable, a refusal to plead either innocent or guilty could protect one’s property from seizure after death. The problem was that refusal to plead would led to the peine forte et dure or being loaded with ever-greater weight until one either pled or died. It took the 82-year-old Giles Corey three days to die.
“So many people who knew the condition of Amritsar say I did right…but so many others say I did wrong. I only want to die and know from my Maker whether I did right or wrong.”
— Reginald Dyer, British army officer (23 July 1927). In April 1919, the city of Amritsar was rocked by Hindu mob violence aimed at Sikhs and Europeans. People were killed, banks looted, and, worst of all in the eyes of the British occupation, a white woman missionary was beaten and left for dead. The police were unable to stem the disorder and so the Army was called in. General Reginald Dyer proclaimed — with great publicity — that all large gatherings were forbidden and when thousands gathered in defiance of the decree, he ordered his troops (mostly Ghurkas from Nepal) to open fire on a crowd in an enclosed market place. After 15 minutes of firing, 379 people were dead and over 1,200 were wounded. Dyer was praised by local Sikhs and the British public; Indian and British intellectuals were appalled. The massacre led to increased native pressure for independence and a weakening of British resolve to keep India.
The recording industry has a long history of one-hit wonders, artists who produced only a single moment of musical glory and who then faded back into obscurity, “unwept, unhonoured, and unsung”. “96 Tears” by ? and the Mysterians; “Who Let the Dogs Out?” by Baha Men; “Harper Valley PTA” by Jeannie C. Riley will ring distant bells in the minds of my generation.
The same can be said for public speakers. Beyond the “Checkers” speech, who remembers the oratory of Richard Nixon? Can anyone recall one line in the rhetorical career of Dwight Eisenhower beyond his “military-industrial complex” warning? Will Greta Thunberg make it into the Verbal Eloquence Hall of Fame on only the strength of “How dare you!”?
Let us, therefore, honour today the contribution of not-quite-immortal Noah S. “Soggy” Sweat, a one-term Mississippi legislator whose 1952 farewell address will live on the annals of He Only Gave One Speech but It Was a Doozy. The subject was the state regulation of the liquor trade.
My friends, I had not intended to discuss this controversial subject at this particular time. However, I want you to know that I do not shun controversy. On the contrary, I will take a stand on any issue at any time, regardless of how fraught with controversy it might be. You have asked me how I feel about whiskey. All right, this is how I feel about whiskey:
If when you say whiskey you mean the devil’s brew, the poison scourge, the bloody monster, that defiles innocence, dethrones reason, destroys the home, creates misery and poverty, yea, literally takes the bread from the mouths of little children; if you mean the evil drink that topples the Christian man and woman from the pinnacle of righteous, gracious living into the bottomless pit of degradation, and despair, and shame and helplessness, and hopelessness, then certainly I am against it.
But, if when you say whiskey you mean the oil of conversation, the philosophic wine, the ale that is consumed when good fellows get together, that puts a song in their hearts and laughter on their lips, and the warm glow of contentment in their eyes; if you mean Christmas cheer; if you mean the stimulating drink that puts the spring in the old gentleman’s step on a frosty, crispy morning; if you mean the drink which enables a man to magnify his joy, and his happiness, and to forget, if only for a little while, life’s great tragedies, and heartaches, and sorrows; if you mean that drink, the sale of which pours into our treasuries untold millions of dollars, which are used to provide tender care for our little crippled children, our blind, our deaf, our dumb, our pitiful aged and infirm; to build highways and hospitals and schools, then certainly I am for it.
This is my stand. I will not retreat from it. I will not compromise.
Even more last words in history
“I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have.” – Leonardo da Vinci, 2 May 1519
“I desire to go to hell, and not to heaven. In the former place I shall enjoy the company of popes, kings, and princes, while in the latter are only beggars, monks, hermits, and apostles.” – Niccolò Machiavelli, 21 June 1527
“All my possessions for a moment of time.” – Elizabeth I, 24 March 1603
“Oh, would to God I had never reigned! Oh, that those years I have spent in my kingdom I had lived a solitary life in the wilderness! Oh, that I had lived alone with God! How much more secure should I now have died! With how much more confidence should I have gone to the throne of God! What doth all my glory profit, but that I have so much the more torment in my death?” – Philip III of Spain, 31 March 1621
“I would never have married had I known that my time would be so brief. If I had known that, I would not have taken upon myself double tears.” – Alexis of Russia, 8 February 1676. For his two marriages Alexis held a Bachelorette-type competition, something that Byzantine emperors had occasionally done. Out of a hundred or so daughters of nobility, Alexis gave a handkerchief and ring to a young woman not favoured by his advisors. They diagnosed the poor girl with epilepsy and hustled her and her family off to Siberia.
“I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with Blood. I had, as I now think, vainly flattered myself that without very much bloodshed it might be done.” — John Brown, 2 December 1859
Today is the feast day of St John the Baptist, or St Jean Baptiste Day, the fête national in Québec. John, for those not hep to the New Testament story, was kin to Jesus and a prophet who preached repentance and baptized the penitent in the Jordan River. He is mentioned in the first chapter of the Gospel of John (no relation):
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men.And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe. He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light.
That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. He came unto his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.
For those who would like to hear those words in Old English, here you go:
1917 A very interesting game of baseball
On June 23, 1917 the Boston Red Sox were hosting the Washington Senators at Fenway Park. While Boston had an enviable recent record, having won the World Series in 1915 and 1916, their guests were less successful, the butt of the joke “Washington: First in war, first in peace, and last in the American League”.
On the mound for the Bosox was Babe Ruth. He gave up a walk on four pitches to the first batter, which provoked him into a confrontation with the umpire Brick Owens who had a lengthy history of encounters with enraged players and fans. Ruth politely contended that the vision of the irascible overseer was somehow deficient on this occasion (his exact words were “Why don’t you open your god-damned eyes?”) and Owens promptly excused the Babe from further participation in the contest. On his way to the showers, the Bambino responded by punching the cantankerous arbiter. The Crimson Hose were then obliged to call for a replacement. Manager Bill Carrigan’s gaze fell upon Ernie Shore, no slouch as a hurler of the horsehide orb, who was allowed only five warm-up pitches and stood upon the hill almost cold. What followed was major league history.
Shore, “the Carolina Professor” (he taught mathematics in the off-season), eyed Ray Morgan, the Griffsters’ runner at first base; Morgan eyed Shore, and on the latter’s first pitch headed toward second base where he was ignominiously thrown out. The next 26 batters were set down in order by Shore with the last out being served up by a Washington pitcher who (it is shameful to recall) attempted a bunt, thus violating the Unwritten Rule against late-inning bunts in a potential no-hitter.
At the time Shore was credited with a perfect game but the statisticians now consider the game to be a shared no-hitter.
Still interested in famous last words? Here are some more.
“You urge me in vain. I am not the man to provide Christian flesh for pagan teeth to devour, and it would be so acting if I delivered unto you that which the poor have laid by for their subsistence.”
— Ælfheah of Canterbury, (aka Alphege) Archbishop of Canterbury (19 April 1012), refusing to pay ransom before being killed in the hideous “blood eagle” fashion by his Danish captors. He was the first Archbishop of Canterbury to be martyred. Three more would follow in the next six centuries.
“I have loved justice and hated iniquity; therefore I die in exile.”
— Pope Gregory VII (25 May 1085), in exile in Salerno due to his conflicts with Henry IV, Holy Roman Emperor. One of the more quarrelsome popes of the Middle Ages, he excommunicated the Emperor Henry three times, waged war with the help of the rapacious Normans, and was driven from Rome by an angry populace.
“Pope Clement, Chevalier Guillaume de Nogaret, King Philip! I summon you to the Tribunal of Heaven before the year is out!” — Jacques de Molay, last Grand Master of the Knights Templar (11 or 18 March 1314), before being burned at the stake. This famous curse on the trio who had plotted the demise and plunder of the Templar order had great effect: all three died within the year.
“What have I done, or my children, that I should meet such a fate? And from your hands, too, you who have met with friendship and kindness from my people who have received nothing but benefits from my hands.”— Atahualpa, last Sapa Inca of the Inca Empire (26 July 1533), prior to execution by strangling. The Incans were a nasty bunch of human-sacrificing imperialist oppressors but the Spanish conquistadores led by the loathsome Francisco Pizarro who ended their domination were just as bad.
“All right then, I’ll say it. Dante makes me sick.” — Lope de Vega, Spanish playwright, the equivalent of Shakespeare in Hispanic culture, (27 August 1635). In the end, everyone is a critic.
