Tuesday, May 3, 2022

The Van der Doort Inventory

Emblem showing differences of Peace and War by Peter Paul Rubens

The inventory taken of the art collection of Charles I. From Royal Collection Trust:

The collection is presented here in the order of the inventory made by the keeper of the royal collection, Abraham van der Doort, around 1639. Unlike the Sale, the inventory is only a partial view of the collection; it focusses on Whitehall Palace and begins to tackle a handful of other residences in briefer form towards the end of its contents.

Van der Doort's original information is spread throughout a set of source manuscripts, each differing slightly. Some information included in the 1960 Walpole Society transcription has been omitted online to avoid duplication in the database, notably the 'Frizell List' and 'Titian List' (pp.181-4 and 192-3). We also include supplementary information from another roughly contemporaneous inventory (c.1640) not drawn up by van der Doort (the V&A MS.). The St James's Palace section is taken wholly from that V&A manuscript. Note that not every inventory number online is taken from the original sources, where some items are unnumbered. Van der Doort's measurements, as he states, are taken within the frames; and measurements sometimes differ across the source manuscripts. Where online information is taken from more than one source manuscript, brackets are used to differentiate; square brackets offer twenty-first-century knowledge or opinion. We encourage students of the collection to refer to the Walpole Society pages for further detail and provide a glossary to clarify our translation of the seventeenth-century information into digital format.

Each online entry contains a view of the work in question and could have as many as three sections: current knowledge about the work, and the information from van der Doort's inventory and from the Sale inventory. Each entry also includes where possible an image of the work, as well as (in the case of the van der Doort inventory) the relevant page from the Walpole Society transcriptions of the inventories, which may be found by scrolling to the right of the image. (Read more.)

 

 More on the Collection, HERE and HERE. 


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'You’re Hired'

 From The American Conservative:

Former President Donald Trump made the most courageous decision of his post-presidency so far by endorsing J.D. Vance for the GOP Senate Primary in Ohio. Vance is an authentic representative of America’s populist tradition, contending against a field of establishment phonies. For the discontent that propelled Trump to the White House in 2016 to be addressed, Vance must find his way into the halls of the Senate. And thanks to Don’s nod, he likely will.

A disclosure: Vance and I are friends. We first met online around his conversion to Catholicism, a distant friendship that deepened at the height of the pandemic before we finally met “in real life,” as the kids say. And that’s a good place to start a brief for Vance. The Vance I’ve gotten to know over the past few years has something few politicians possess: namely, depth of soul.

Readers of his memoir, including liberals prepared to rise above their partisan hatred, will have glimpsed this quality in Hillbilly Elegy. Vance can be shrewd, yes. He is book-smart and people-smart. He rose from “the holler” to the stratospheric heights of Yale Law School and venture capital. But he is still foremost the grandson of “Mamaw”: the ferociously loyal guy who will offer to host you and your family for a weekend refuge from New York City’s lockdown madness while his wife is pregnant and he’s running for the Senate.

The book-smarts matter, too. Anyone who has spent any amount of time around members of Congress knows that most are absolute morons. Yes, they might possess a base kind of intelligence for flattery and for sniffing out others’ weaknesses. But genuine intelligence, deepened by serious reading, is something else. Vance has it. That obscure blog offering cutting-edge takes on this or that social problem? Chances are, he not only reads it but knows the author.

Most important, Vance has courage, of the kind Trump must have recognized when he decided to endorse Vance, over and against the opposition and underhanded scheming of much of the Republican establishment, including inside the Buckeye State GOP.

It took courage for Trump, during the GOP primaries, to question many of the Swamp Republicans’ most donor-beloved orthodoxies, from privatizing entitlements to endless war. It took courage for Trump, as president, to stand by his second Supreme Court nominee, Brett Kavanaugh, once he became the target of an unprecedented barrage of lies about his sexual record. It took courage for Trump, as commander-in-chief, to put the United States on the path to withdrawal from the Middle East, knowing it would invite the wrath of the national-security Blob.

Likewise, it took (and takes) courage for Vance to question the pro-war uniparty’s rush to escalation in Ukraine. Many other would-be populist contenders among the party’s new crop of interesting senators and senators-in-waiting succumbed to the pressure to endorse MOAAARRR war. That includes two of Vance’s primary opponents, the dull Mike Gibbons and the ridiculous Josh Mandel, both of whom endorsed a European-led no-fly zone over Ukraine—a step that would almost certainly have drawn Washington into a catastrophic shooting war between NATO and Russia. (Read more.)

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Sauron the Deceiver

 From Gamerant:

The Rings of Power are some of the darkest and most mystical objects in Middle Earth. They were devised by Sauron as a part of his scheme to conquer the world and have dominion over all who dwell there. There are 20 rings in total, 9 for the lords of men, 7 for the dwarven kings, 3 for the elves, and of course, the one ring itself, the master weapon to corrupt all of the others, and bring them into the service of Sauron.

The rings have a dark history however, and they were originally all intended for the elves, rather than men or dwarves. Sauron taught Celebrimbor to make the original 16 rings, known as the lesser rings, and into them he poured his will and his malice, ensuring that those who accepted them would eventually fall to his power. But Celebrimbor created the 3 elven rings away from Sauron’s watchful gaze, giving the elves time to flee and hide them somewhere safe, out of the reach of Sauron’s corruption. (Read more.)
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Monday, May 2, 2022

"Through Henriette’s Eyes"

From Mark Spencer at The Historical Novel Society:

Charles Stuart, then Prince of Wales, first set eyes on Henriette in 1623. She was dancing at the Louvre, and he was passing through Paris on his way to Spain seeking, unsuccessfully, the hand of a Spanish Habsburg princess. My Queen, My Love tells their story primarily through Henriette’s eyes (captured hauntingly on the cover image, her portrait painted by Van Dyck). Through Henriette’s first encounters with Charles, their marriage, and earliest years as a royal couple, Vidal’s historically informed account captures their nuanced relationship, fraught with the difficulties posed by Henriette’s deep-seated Catholicism playing out in Protestant England.

Other themes—like the period’s reverence for astrology—remind us of how foreign the seventeenth century can seem to modern manners. Vidal may be at her best, though, when recreating specific historical events or when weaving her narrative with its myriad of historical actors—a “List of Characters” helps readers tally more than eighty of them. Take George Villiers, the strikingly handsome and always scheming, Duke of Buckingham. Charles’ lifelong best friend, “Steenie” is a merciless thorn in Henriette’s side. Still, some will hope Vidal’s Henriette and Charles are more richly developed in coming volumes. The action is sure to peak as the English Civil War threatens. For those interested in learning more about the period’s people and events, Vidal’s useful bibliography—spanning nonfiction and fiction—provides leads to the works of several prominent historians. (Read more.)


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At a Crossroads

 From The Nation:

For more than a century, The New York Times Book Review has been one of the most influential, if not most august, institutions in American letters. This rarefied status is largely attributable to its endurance. Once upon a time, every major newspaper had a books section. Some, such as the Chicago Tribune and the San Francisco Chronicle, even had their own stand-alone supplements. But after decades of contraction in the news business, dedicated books divisions have all but perished. Among the daily newspapers, just the Book Review remains. Its only real competition now comes from general interest magazines that tend to cover roughly the same number of books in a year as the Book Review does in a month

For such a durable institution, it is striking that The New York Times Book Review has mostly remained devoted to the template for book reviewing it adopted in the early 20th century. The editors cover the book world as if it were any other news beat: They assign reviews that tend to be informative rather than interpretative, telling readers what books are being published, how relevant the new releases are to current affairs, which of them might be worth purchasing, and which authors are on the rise. According to an early unsigned letter from its editors, the supplement aimed to serve as “an open forum for the discussion of books from all sane and honest points of view.” That modest ambition remains in place today, even if, in practice, “sane and honest” can often mean avoiding provocative arguments in favor of reviews that are evenhanded and descriptive. As its recently departed editor, Pamela Paul, put it in 2018, “The Book Review has a long tradition of being a political Switzerland.”

The Book Review’s pursuit of fairness and balance has become one of its signatures over the decades. While many literary magazines ask reviewers to weigh in on a book primarily because of the strength of their opinions, the Book Review’s pages often seek to be a retreat from the ideological debates raging among intellectuals and the commentariat. In the Times’ view, this gives its reviews an authority that surpasses what can be found elsewhere. “In my mind there’s an almost platonic notion of what the center is,” explained one of the Review’s editors, Barry Gewen, in an interview from 2018, “and we try to bring the discussion to the center.”

 Not everyone shares the Book Review’s sense of its own magisterial restraint. A policy of moderation can not only end up endorsing the status quo embodied by “the center” but all too often also make for drab reading, prompting repeated criticism over the years—most famously articulated in Elizabeth Hardwick’s 1959 salvo for Harper’s Magazine, which charged that the Book Review’s “absence of involvement, passion, character, eccentricity” meant that it served as “a sort of hidden dissuader, gently, blandly, respectfully denying whatever vivacious interest there might be in books or in literary matters generally.” Versions of Hardwick’s complaint have persisted into the 21st century: Rather than offering criticism that sparks the passion of its readers, the Review instead tends to foster the polite, banal atmosphere of a book club. As critic Christian Lorentzen noted in a 2019 Harper’s article, “the Times seems to have lost its sense of its audience’s intelligence.” (Read more.)

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A Mysterious Map

 From Ancient Origins:

On a chilly winter day in 1929, Halil Edhem, the Director of Turkey's National Museum, was hunched over his solitary task of classifying documents.  He pulled towards him a map drawn on Roe deer skin. As Halil opened the chart to its full dimensions (two feet by three feet wide or 60 X 90 cm) he was surprised by how much of the New World was depicted on a map which dated from 1513. The document was the legacy of a pirate turned Turkish Admiral, Piri Reis ( circa 1470-1554). He was born in Gallipoli, a naval base on the Marmara Sea and was the nephew of Kemal Reis, a pirate who had reinvented himself as a Turkish Admiral adventurer who had made his name in naval warfare. At the time, the distinction between pirate and Admiral was more flexible than might be expected from looking back through a Hollywood lens. Piri Reis sailed with his famous uncle from 1487 to 1493. During these voyages, he was introduced to the lucrative spoils of piracy. The fleet fought pirates and captured and plundered enemy ships. In 1495, Kemal Reis’ great skill in the art of battle earned him an invitation to join the Imperial Turkish Fleet. His nephew accompanied him to his new assignment. The pirates were transformed into respectable Admirals. (Read more.)

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Sunday, May 1, 2022

Egyptian Blue


 From Ancient Origins:

Egyptian Blue, also known as calcium copper silicate, is one of the first artificial pigments known to have been used by man. The oldest known example of the exquisite pigment is said to be about 5000 years old, found in a tomb painting dated to the reign of Ka-Sen, the last pharaoh of the First Dynasty. Others, however, state that the earliest evidence of the use of Egyptian blue is from the Fourth Dynasty and the Middle Kingdom, around 4,500 years ago. Nevertheless, by the New Kingdom, Egyptian Blue was used plentifully as a pigment in painting and can be found on statues, tomb paintings and sarcophagi. In addition, Egyptian blue was used to produce a ceramic glaze known as Egyptian faience. 

 Its characteristic blue colour, resulting from one of its main components — copper — ranges from a light to a dark hue, depending on differential processing and composition. If the pigment is ground coarsely, it produces a rich, dark blue, while very finely-ground pigment produces a pale, ethereal blue.  It is made by heating a mixture of a calcium compound (typically calcium carbonate), a copper-containing compound (metal filings or malachite), silica sand and soda or potash as a flux, to around 850-950 C. 

 In Egyptian belief, blue was considered as the colour of the heavens, and hence the universe. It was also associated with water and the Nile. Thus, blue was the colour of life, fertility and rebirth. One of the naturally blue objects that the Egyptians had access to was lapis lazuli, a deep blue semi-precious stone  which could be ground up into powder, although this was a luxury item and had to be imported from Afghanistan. Therefore, it is not too surprising that the Egyptians sought to produce a synthetic pigment to use as a substitute for the blue lapis lazuli.

The manufacture of Egyptian Blue eventually spread beyond Egypt’s borders, and can be found throughout the Mediterranean. Egyptian Blue has been found in numerous Greek and Roman objects, including statues from the Parthenon in Athens and wall paintings in Pompeii. Despite its extensive application in art, Egyptian Blue ceased to be used, and its method of production was forgotten when the Roman era came to an end.

In the 19 th century, Egyptian Blue was re-discovered. The excavations at Pompeii revealed that many wall paintings had Egyptian Blue on them, and this prompted scientists to investigate the exact composition of this pigment.  Since then, researchers have gained a much deeper understanding of its unique properties.  Experiments found that Egyptian Blue has the highly unusual quality of emitting infrared light when red light is shone onto it. This emission is extraordinarily powerful and long-lived, but cannot be seen by the naked eye, because human vision does not normally extend into the infrared range of the light spectrum. In addition, scientists unexpectedly discovered that Egyptian Blue will split into ‘nanosheets’ – a thousand times thinner than a human hair – if stirred in warm water for several days.  Scientists now believe that its unique properties may make Egyptian Blue suitable for a variety of modern applications. (Read more.)


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American Individualism

 From The Public Discourse:

Social conservatives used to have a much more nuanced understanding of the development of modern liberalism out of the medieval Christian world. Our insistence on individual immortality, an idea hammered home by the almost preposterous teaching of the resurrection of the body, ought to make Christians dyed-in-the-wool individualists.

What’s wrong with good old-fashioned American individualism? This question has been simmering for a long time—at least since the end of the Cold War, when conservatives had to decide whether they were allowed to fully celebrate a victory over the dead body of socialism, or whether we needed to beat our own breasts with mea culpas for our own virulent individualism.

We learned from such converts from Marxism as Alasdair MacIntyre and Elizabeth Fox and Eugene Genovese that, while Marxism was not the solution, the Marxist critique of liberal individualism was so radically true that I guess we could say we are all communitarians now. Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s writings about the Gulag were not as widely circulated as his Harvard Address, which served up a pretty even-handed critique of Russian communism and the soulless individualism of the West.

Before the end of the Cold War, the term “individualism” was not thrown around so frequently as a term of abuse, even by Christian conservatives, because of the more evident, ghastly effects of socialism—both the National Socialism of Germany and the international socialism of the USSR and its allies. Yes, there was some effort to distinguish conservatives from Ayn Randian individualists, or to tame “individualism” to Christian purposes by the use of the term “personalism.” But the Marxist critique of bourgeois individualism stuck like clay: it was hard to divest the notion of the individual of the filthy connotations of materialism, consumerism, and selfishness. Still, conservatives did not publicly attack the belief in the value of the individual human person, invested with God-given dignity and rights.

In the twenty-first century, that has changed. (Read more.)


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The Medieval Village Hierarchy

 From Ancient Origins:

When we mention the medieval hierarchy today, some clear-cut connections start popping up immediately – castles, lords and knights, peasants and serfs. And it is no strange thing that these images are quickly associated with a medieval village – because it is a closely accurate depiction of what the social classes were like back then. Of course, it was slightly more complex than that, but you get the gist of it. Power was the crucial driving force of medieval society – land holders and lords were the ones who held all influence.

Of course, the highest title in a medieval society was that of a ruler – usually the king. The law bringer king had the highest authority in his realm and brought all important social and economic decisions. The royal household that consisted of princes, princesses and the queen was directly below him in the hierarchy, and was often present at the courtly meetings and involved in big decisions.

As you might expect, royal families of the medieval period were rarely idyllic and functional – the greed of the nobility was a well-known thing, and heirs to the throne would more than often attempt to usurp the throne. Fathers were murdered, sons exiled, and brothers assassinated. But those who held power would always emerge victorious. And power was flesh – manpower would win wars and resolve conflicts. The more adherents a ruler had, the more power.

For the large part of the medieval period and the era of feudalism, and throughout much of Europe, a system called manorialism was in effect. The manorialism system revolved around the lord of the manor, a feudal lord who either held his lands directly from the crown, or was a vassal of another, more powerful lord. (Read more.)


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