History Carnival #108-April, 2012
Image from the Library of Congress Collection
Welcome to the Carnival!*
In the spirit of April 1st, I've sought out blog posts from the last month** that celebrate the foolish, the topsy-turvy, and the quirky. Blog posts that stand historical truths on their head, or at least gives them a little shake. No clown noses. No mean tricks. No whoopie cushions. Unless, of course, they're historical whoopie cushions.
Past Imperfect rehabilitates the barbarian's barbarian in Nice Things to Say About Attila the Hun
The Tenement Museum puts the pickle in its place in Salty, Sour and Controversial.
Stephen Cromack proves that Frodo is a Confucian hero in The Confucians Who Saved Middle Earth
Two Nerdy History Girls are a constant source of quirky delights. In one of my recent favorites, they overturn The Myth of the Regency Sylph
Got Medieval, another personal favorite, debunks a popular historical myth in Ring-a-Ring O'Rubbish
Streets of Salem offered an amusing selection of Green Men, medieval to modern, in honor of St. Patricks Day.
Beth Dunn muses on tight pantaloons and The Turn of the Leg.
Brushing Off the Dust tells us how to exercise like a Viking.
Frog in a Well considers the topsy-turvydom of Unesco as a cultural arbiter in the context of Japanese cuisine in Credentialism and Other Modern Traditions
Caroline Shenton tackles the complex question of how much a pint of beer would cost in The Timetravelling Beer Drinker
Vaguely Interesting looks at the unexpected names people give to different types of bread, including Devil's Fart Bread
As an extra, two great blogs that transform the idea of history blogging:
Phoebe Spanier's delightful Mirror Sense, an illustrated novel set in Paris and Venice in the the 1660s accompanied by a blog giving historical context for the novel.
Alison Taylor-Brown tells the story of sixteenth century Europe from the viewpoint of one of it's important figures in Wolfgang Capito's View.
Next month's History Carnival will be hosted by Rachel Herrman at Not Even Past. Get in line for the ride.
*Some of my regular readers may not know about the History Carnival: a traveling road show of blog writing about history. A different blogger hosts the carnival each month.
** Okay, I admit it. I've included a couple of posts from January and February that I couldn't resist.
What Do the Rose Bowl and the Ottoman Empire Have in Common?
Marching bands.
Beginning in 1299, the elite corps of the Ottoman armies, the janissaries, used military bands made up of wind and percussion instruments to inspire their troops and terrify their enemies. (Not that different from a half-time show, right?) The music they played was called mehter, a stirring mixture of drums, horn and oboe with a distinctive marching rhythm based on the Turkish phrase "Gracious God is good. God is compassionate." Often four to five hundred musicians accompanied the army. Sometimes the music alone was enough to drive enemy forces from the field.
The European troops encountered mehter music during the seventeenth century wars against the Ottomans on Europe's eastern border. European civilians heard mehter music for the first time when Sultan Suleyman II presented Augustus the Strong of Poland (1670-1733) with a mehter band of his very own. Europe was fascinated by the new sound; by 1770 most European armies had bands featuring Turkish instruments and fanciful variations of Turkish costumes.
Turkish music also played into the taste for turquerie (otherwise known as "Turkish stuff") that swept European society in the eighteenth century. Popular composers, including Beethoven, Haydn, and Mozart, wrote "Turkish" symphonies, ballets, and operas using new percussion instruments borrowed from the Ottomans-- bass drums, snare drums, cymbals, triangles, and Turkish crescent (also known as the "jingling Johnny"). The fashion reached its artistic height in 1777 with Mozart's Escape from the Seraglio. The fad for turquerie soon ended, but Turkish percussion instruments found a permanent home in the western symphony orchestra.
In 1826, the janissaries mutinied against Sultan Mahmud II. They were slaughtered by troops loyal to the sultan and the mehter bands were dispersed. Today a mehter band is attached to the Istanbul Military Museum. The band performs several times a week in a specially designed auditorium. It's well worth hearing, but take your earplugs. Mehter bands don't have an indoor voice.
(In case a visit to Turkey isn't in your immediate future, here's a sample or two.
This post previously appeared in Wonders and Marvels.
When Is A Pirate Not A Pirate?
When he's got a license to steal.
From the 16th through the mid-19th centuries, governments issued licenses, called letters of marque, to private ship owners that gave them permission to attack foreign shipping in times of war. Called privateers, these government-sanctioned pirates were an inexpensive way for governments to patrol the seas. Private investors outfitted warships in the hope of earning a profit from plunder taken from enemy merchants.
Unlike pirates, privateers had rules they had to follow. They were only allowed to attack enemy ships during times of war. Sometimes their commissions limited them to a specific area or to attacking the ships of a specific country. In exchange for following the rules, they would be treated as prisoners of war if they were captured.
In fact, it was sometimes hard to tell a privateer from a pirate. If a privateer attacked foreign shipping in peace time, interfered with the ships of neutral countries, or was just too violent, he was sometimes treated as a pirate if he was captured. Some privateers, like Sir Francis Drake, became national heroes. Others, like Captain William Kidd, were hanged as pirates.
Privateering was made illegal in 1856 by international treaty.