Queen Victoria on Tom Lehrer

Among the great accomplishments of Tom Lehrer, mathematician and musician:
http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria/2012/04/09

(Wikipedia says that the above is actually untrue. Yes, I did look up "Jell-o Shot" on Wikipedia.)

The New Adventures of Queen Victoria: Her Majesty on the U.S. Elections

Given the insanity that has been the Republican primaries, I thought this was eminently appropriate. Wouldn't she have been horrified?

http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria/2012/03/03

The last line is equally applicable to many of the parties involved, I'd say.

Beauty and Madness

 I've been reading some William Morris for a literature class on medievalism (both medieval literature and Victorian medievalism). This line, in particular, struck me:

 I was half mad with beauty on that day...

~ William Morris, "The Defence of Guenevere"

I've noticed that beautiful people, and people who create beautiful things, are often a little mad. (By "beautiful people," I mean people who have beautiful souls or minds, not attractive exteriors.) There's a sort of fragile beauty, the sort where you can hear the madness vibrating under the surface, like an impossibly light glass orb that might shatter if you touch it. It's the wildness of it, the thrill of unpredictability. It's the beauty of the endangered predator, the tiger that doesn't know it's one of the last of its kind, that can still kill you where you stand.

Madness itself can be beautiful, in its own way (hence the Gothic novel). There's a certain purity to madness, in that everything that affects a lunatic ultimately comes from within her own head (much of it is exhibited as response to stimuli, but the response is atypical -- i.e. not socially dictated). The greater part of the significance that literature assigns to madness is the uniqueness of its perspective.

Western culture idealizes individualism to an extent unmatched in other societies -- and that applies to Western intellectual culture as well. I think of it, sometimes, as the "genius in a box" phenomenon. People are attracted to the image of great ideas springing fully formed from the aether, like Athena from Zeus's head. They like thinking that geniuses are born, not made, and that they achieve their success purely through their own inscrutable methods. Of course, this construct doesn't quite reflect reality; as Newton once said, "If I have seen a little further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants." (His expression of the sentiment is the most famous, but not the first; the earliest known attribution is to Bernard of Chartres.) I actually just read, for a history of science class, an interesting book by Peter Galison entitled Einstein's Clocks, Poincaré's Maps, which argues (perhaps a tad overzealously) that Einstein, the quintessential representation of genius in modern Western culture, was inspired in the formation of his theories of relativity by the mathematician Henri Poincaré. One can't be a pioneer in one's field without having a good grasp of the work that preceded one's own. Genius is hardly ever as isolated as the romantic ideal would have it.

The thing is, genius is isolating only insofar as society renders it so. There were plenty of intellectuals throughout history who, in addition to being brilliant, were also scintillating conversationalists, consummate socialites and courtiers, and infamous Lotharios -- Renaissance men, as it were. It's terribly unfortunate that in the modern day, intelligence is seen as a social liability (that's probably a reflection on the state of American society, but we'll not go there tonight). But it's that isolation that makes it seem mysterious, unattainable -- and therefore beautiful.

A bit of a digression, I suppose. Perhaps not quite what Morris was going for, but that's how I read it.

Wall Street Journal: How to Undress a Victorian Lady in Your Next Historical Romance

I was directed to this article by a number of people, but I think Nicole sent it first (no, it's not adult content -- it's The Wall Street Journal, after all):

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702304911104576443871615544338.html

I really appreciate the effort some authors expend to get the details right. Historical fiction has a lot in common with science fiction, where the technology ought to be theoretically plausible, and fantasy, where the imagined world ought to be internally consistent and realistic within its constraints -- which is why we have people like Asimov writing science fiction, people like Tolkien writing fantasy, and a bevy of actual historians writing historical fiction. It's hard to do these genres well if you don't have the background.

I have made my own period costumes, and sporadically partake in historical reenactment (and yes, I do own a corset). I do my research; Stanford's libraries are excellent for this purpose. And as I sometimes mention on this blog, I'm a history major -- but I'm still, compared to film industry costumers, an amateur. Inaccuracies in books, films, etc. bother me quite a bit, because I always find myself thinking, if I, as a hobbyist with limited resources, can get it right (or at least moreso than this film), why can't a professional crew? (Some of my friends apparently enjoy watching bad quasi-medieval action flicks with me just to watch me go off about all the things the studio got wrong. Not sure what that says about me -- or them, for that matter.)

Anyhow. A pet peeve of mine.

The New Adventures of Queen Victoria: Her Majesty on Angry Birds

There's this iPhone game called "Angry Birds" that seems to be all the rage right now. (It doesn't sound that interesting, but then, I've never played it. A lot of games/shows/songs with really inane premises seem to catch on spectacularly regardless.) Anyhow, here's Queen Victoria's (rather humorous) take on it:

http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria/2011/01/24/

I was amused.

The New Adventures of Queen Victoria: Edgar Allan Poe's Attempts at Levity

Victorian literature joke (humour me, okay?):

http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria/2010/10/04/

I thought it was funny...

The New Adventures of Queen Victoria: Her Majesty Discovers YouTube

I was highly amused:

http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria/2010/08/18/

http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria/2010/08/19/

My sister and I have both of these songs memorized. We're an odd family, we know.

The New Adventures of Queen Victoria: Alternate Uses for Lemonade

A different -- Victorian -- take on alternative fuels:

http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria/2010/07/27

Better than corn, eh?

The New Adventures of Queen Victoria: Bunny Hamlet

Hamlet is one of my favorite Shakespeare plays, and this is an especially humorous interpretation:

http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria/2010/07/17

A whole new take on lucky rabbits' feet...

NYTimes: A Victorian Cabin

It's very quaint, the sort of thing that I'd build in my backyard, if I had the time and the woodworking savvy:

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2010/06/23/garden/20100624-chic-slideshow.html?ref=garden

The lace is a bit much, I admit, and this slightly unstable-looking structure is not where I'd choose to house my hypothetical china collection, but I'd absolutely live in this sort of a house. The only nontrivial improvement I can think of would be to perhaps build it in a tree. A Victorian treehouse, perhaps?

The New Adventures of Queen Victoria

It's a webcomic:

http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria

Possibly the most brilliant use of stock art I've seen to date. If anyone knows anything about politics, it's Queen Victoria. I reckon she'd be ashamed of us, if she could see us now.

This one, on the oil spill, is especially amusing: http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria/2010/06/24/
(For the uninitiated: https://www.shamwow.com)

Of Watches, and Wisdom

A piece of sound advice for people (especially precocious youths) who find themselves a cut above the mean:

Wear your learning, like your watch, in a private pocket, and do not pull it out and strike it merely to show you have one. If you are asked what o'clock it is, tell it, but do not proclaim it hourly and unasked, like the watchman.

~ Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield

Most intelligent people will have found themselves in a position, at some point in their lives, where their mental capacities were detrimental to their social integration. The classic example is that of the bespectacled, socially awkward nerd being bullied by football players and their cheerleader girlfriends in high school. Or the equally awkward nerd girl (yes, the assumed default "nerd" is male, but that's just statistics) scorned by her skirt-and-heels-wearing peers for her braces and sweatpants and love of explosions. Anyhow, the above is practical advice on how to survive not only high school, but also the world at large.

This reminds me of a recent conversation with a good friend, regarding deference to etiquette and social context versus suppression of one's identity. Many nerds, I have found, deal with the above sorts of isolation and awkwardness by rejecting the institutions that have ill-used them. The argument goes, "It's who I am," and "I shouldn't have to give up my identity in order to have/be/join x." While in some cases, this is a valid argument (namely in cases where there is no viable alternative), it is too often used as an excuse, or a social crutch. One's identity should not preclude one from exhibiting, for instance, basic professionalism and consideration for others (that is, unless one wishes to be identified as "clueless", or some other unsavory sobriquet in perpetuam). One may be genuinely enthusiastic about one's learning (as is generally the case in particularly nerdy people), but it often comes off to those less interested as a sort of unbecoming vanity.

I recognize that I have this problem myself, and I cannot always be conscious of how I appear to others. I do, however, believe that simple courtesies should not be neglected, which includes not boring my friends to tears, where possible (that's what this blog is for, I suppose). One of my biggest problems, though, is that my notions of etiquette date from a bygone era -- so you folks have it easier, in some ways. You have less to unlearn.

And for those literal-minded readers who are thinking, "Why not wear the watch on your wrist, like a sensible person?" I would point out that Lord Chesterfield was of an age when pocketwatches, rather than wristwatches, were the norm.

NYTimes: Steampunk!

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/08/fashion/08PUNK.html?_r=1&em&ex=1210392000&en=38483d5ad02044a4&ei=5087%0A

I'm so glad a credible, mainstream news source has finally picked up on it! I'm a fan of steampunk, mostly because it incorporates many elements of Regency and Victorian culture for which I have a sort of sentimental fondness. I grew up reading Sherlock Holmes, for one (Doyle was my action-adventure fix; no comics or television for me!). Elements of steampunk I think are cool, to list a few:
- dirigibles
- clockwork
- waistcoats
- gunpowder
- horse-drawn carriages
- calling cards
(I have a bunch of Victoriana links on the blog, for more interesting tidbits.)

The Evolution of Women's Fashion through the Regency and Victorian Eras

http://www.pemberley.com/janeinfo/ppbrokil.html#ppoth

More costuming! The above diagram is just great; not only do you get surprisingly good detail at the given scale (click on it), you also get to compare the silhouettes by decade-ish. I'm going for somewhere between the second and third figures, myself. (Thank goodness it's a Regency ball. Some of the Victorian ones are insane; I don't know how I'd walk in one of those gigantic bustle/hobble skirt numbers, let alone dance!)

The History of Opera Gloves

I'm making myself a Regency ballgown (for the Stanford Big Dance, which is the big social dance event of the quarter); the theme of the dance is "Pride and PrejuDance and Zombies". As you know (well, now you do) any Regency ballgown requires a pair of opera gloves. I ordered them online (Here's to hoping that they arrive in time!), since I don't pretend to know how to fit opera gloves, nor do I have the time to. Anyhow, here is an article on the history of said gloves:

http://www.operagloves.com/history.html

Expect a smattering of posts on Regency costuming in the coming days; costuming resources, you know.

Floriography

is, for the uninitiated, the Victorian practice of assigning meanings to species of flowers and plants. Friends, relatives, and lovers would send each other bouquets with which they communicated their sentiments and wishes. It was a way of saying what could not be said aloud, within the bounds of tact and social norms (more the latter, given that Victorian -- I use the term loosely -- sensibilities, especially among the elites and the educated, were circumscribed by strict propriety and etiquette).

A table: http://www.thegardener.btinternet.co.uk/flowerlanguage.html

I've always been enamored of the concept of such a cipher -- a quaint and fascinating practice, to be sure.

Wikipedia supplies another such glossary (included herein for cross-referencing purposes): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Floriography