Guess Me.

Guess Me, a curious collection of enigmas, charades, acting charades, double acrostics, conundrums, verbal puzzles, hieroglyphics, anagrams, etc. Compiled and arranged by Frederick D’Arros Planché; 1879; Pott, Young and co. in New York.

Illustrated by George Cruikshank among others, this example of good old-fashioned and wholesome entertainment offers a collection of enigmas, conundrums, acrostics, “decapitations”, and a series of incredibly tricky rebuses. The preface explains that an enigma can have many solutions whereas a conundrum only has one, and that “The essence of a good conundrum is to be found in its answer, which should be itself something of a pun, a puzzle, or an epigram, an inversion of the regular and ordinary meaning of the word.”

There are 631 conundrums:

A sample, click for full size:

Oh, these are awful, and quite wonderful, well, some of them. There’s quite a bit of casual racism and misogyny to be found, too. Via The Public Domain, or you can just click right over to the book.

Faust 1.

Title page and opening pages of Faust, by Harry Clarke. Note the beautiful self-portrait in the last image (Clarke as Faust, figure on the right). One thing that’s fun to do with all of the illustrations is to count all the eyes. Many, lots! :D There are some noted phalluses, too, but those are a bit later on.

Word Wednesday.

Pestilent

Adjective.

1: destructive of life: Deadly.

2: injuring or endangering society: Pernicious.

3: causing displeasure or annoyance.

4: infectious, contagious.

– pestilently, adverb.

[Origin: Middle English, from Latin pestilent-, pestilens pestilential, from pestis.]

(14th Century)

“Sir Richard was a pestilent innovator, it is certain. Before his time the Hall had been a fine block of the mellowest red brick; but Sir Richard had travelled in Italy and become infected with the Italian taste, and, having more money than his predecessors, he determined to leave an Italian palace where he had found an English house.” The Ash-Tree, Ghost Stories of an Antiquary, by M.R. James.

Note: It seems to me that pestilent innovator is a fine descriptor of Trump, although the ‘innovator’ might be a tad complimentary.

Medieval Werewolves.

Medieval werewolves were a popular subject, but they were quite different from the slavering, unreasoning beasts of later depictions. Werewolves weren’t necessarily bad, and retained the ability to reason. Even the transformation was different.

One way of man-to-wolf transformation is to wear a wolfskin – this is most common in Old Norse-Icelandic literature, where the wolf-man is frequently referred to in skin-related terms, echoing the tradition of berserkr and úlfheðnar, battle-frenzied warriors wearing nothing but bear/wolf skin. Gerald of Wales (1146 – 1223) also reports a priest encountering a werewolf couple while travelling across the region of Ossory in Ireland. When the priest refused to perform last rites for the dying she-wolf, fearing that she might be some Devil ’s trick, the man-wolf ‘unzips ’ the wolfskin to reveal an old woman underneath, as if it were just a coat. The difference in transformative mode results in a difference in emphasis: when the wolf comes out of the man, it is as if the wolf – the wolf is the essence. In the medieval portrayal, on the other hand, even though in some cases the wolfskin/form does bring out the beast within, the man is only wrapped,hidden, but never destroyed, and the werewolf is more like a riddle, waiting to be solved.

In Jim C. Hines’s Princess series, I loved that the character of Red Hood was this form of werewolf – the inside of her red cape was a wolfskin. If she flipped it so the wolfskin was on the outside, she transformed.

Medieval werewolves got along just fine in knightly and courtly sense.

‘Be a wolf, have the understanding of … a man!’

The quote above is from Arthur and Gorlagon, [English starts on page 24] one of the four Arthurian Romances written in Latin. In the story, King Gorlagon is turned into a wolf by his treacherous wife. She could have gotten away with the crime, had she not made the mistake of enhancing ‘the understanding of a man ’ instead of  ‘the understanding of a wolf ’. A most unlikely mistake, and most unfortunate on the wife’s part, but it brings another major difference between modern and medieval werewolves: the medieval ones are rarely savage monsters; instead, they can be surprisingly intelligent, rational, and well-behaved. Melion, Bisclavret, and Gorlagon find no difficulty in mingling with the king ’s knights and courtiers – Gorlagon even sits on the horse and waits on the king’s table ‘with his forepaws erect ’. Granted, courtesy does not make werewolves mild and friendly creatures, but even when they perform some deeds of violence, that violence is well justified. Take Bisclavret for example: the wolf inflicts great harm upon his wife and her lover, but the action is read as revenge, thus confirming, rather than forfeiting the wolf ’s humanity.

Werewolf (1512).Lucas Cranach the Elder .Gotha,Herzogliches Museum (Landesmuseum).

Other differences were transformation triggers; Medieval werewolves were not ruled by the full moon. Bisclavret transformed at will, with no regard to the moon. There were two tales which did take a lunar trigger into account:

The only example of a full moon transformation is found in Otia Imperialia or ‘Recreation for an Emperor’, a speculum written by Gervase of Tilbury (1150 – 1220) for Otto IV (1175 –1218).  Gervase reports men turning into wolves ‘according to the cycles of the moon’. He gives two examples:The first, is a certain Pons de Chapteuil, a knight-turned-vagabond that becomes mad while ‘wandering alone like a wild beast … deranged by extreme fear’. Despite Gervase’s earlier mention of the moon, Pons de Chapteuil’s transformation is primarily a physical manifestation of his social identity and emotion. The other werewolf is Chaucevaire, who does transform under lunar influence, but does so only when there is a new moon, the opposite to a traditional full moon transformation. The connection between the werewolf and the moon the etymology of the Latin word moon, luna, which is associated with lunatics. Their loss of human reason dehumanizes them, rendering them figurative beasts, which, as the previous point shows, apparently is not the case with most werewolves.

In the Discworld Watch books, Terry Pratchett compromised with his primary werewolf character, Delphine Angua von Uberwald, who could transform at will, but was subject to an irresistible trigger at the full moon. Medieval werewolves also didn’t have an appearance which was distinct from natural wolves. They might have been a bit larger, but that was all, so there was no easy way to distinguish a werewolf.

I can’t help thinking that Aargh, the English Wolf would have considered them all with disdain.

From Medievalists, an article by Minji Su, Current DPhil student at Oxford university, researching on werewolves in medieval Icelandic literature.

Spirits of Malice and Other Undeadness.

New book!

The Penguin Book of the Undead: Fifteen Hundred Years of Supernatural Encounters, by Scott G. Bruce.

Just got this downloaded, really looking forward to it. Came across this at Medievalists, in a short article about how Medieval people dealt with those pesky dead people who refused to stay dead and buried. The cover art, which I think is fabulous, is by Anton Semenov, check out more of their work here.

This will make lovely nighttime reading.

Bird Gods.

A fascinating little book published in 1898, by Charles DeKay, it travels all over the world in pursuit of Bird Gods and myths about birds. There are many stories from Finland, I’d love to know if they are at all still known. (Hint, hint to Ice Swimmer & Lumipuna).

Speaking fluent German, French, and Italian, as well as studying Latin, Greek, and Sanskrit, DeKay’s linguistic background is apparent in the book as he traces the various cultures and mythologies that the different birds appear in. He presents the idea that, rather than the more distant celestial objects, it is the animals that have surrounded us which have been the root of religious ideas. Each chapter in the book presents a different bird, from the owl and peacock to the woodpecker and the dove, as well as the gods these birds represented. In his preface, DeKay writes of how humans have shared their belief in nature and that this still exists in us no matter of religion, language, or ethnicity, urging his readers to respect nature and not destroy it without reason. He writes:

[…] recollection of what our ancestors thought of birds and beasts, of how at one time they prized and idealized them, may induce in us, their descendants, some shame at the extermination to which we are consigning these lovable but helpless creatures, for temporary gains or sheer brutal love of slaughter. The sordid men who swept from North America the buffalo, the gentlemen who brag of moose and elephants slain, the ladies who demand birds for their hats and will not be denied, the boys who torture poor feathered singers and destroy their nests, are more ruthless than the primeval barbarians. […] The marvellous tale of the share birds have had in the making of myth, religion, poetry and legend may do somewhat to soften these flinty hearts and induce men to establish and carry out laws to protect especially the birds.

The illustrations by George Wharton Edwards are gorgeous. You can read or download Bird Gods here. Via The Public Domain Review.

Fancy Dresses Described;

The Hornet.

Fancy Dresses Described; or What to Wear at Fancy Balls is an 1887 costume guide, and it is amazing and wonderful. Some of the ideas would be best avoided in this century, but the costumes run the gamut from Five O’Clock Tea to Gold Mines to Backgammon to whole countries, and everything in between. Fascinating. The lists of illustrated costumes does not even come close to all the costume guides:

A sample of one page of descriptions:

The costumes are amazing and beautiful:

Magpie.

Oh, the Magpie! Who needs an excuse to wear that?

I haven’t even come close to perusing the whole book, but this caught my eye, and now I want this outfit:

Masherette. Black satin tail coat and skirt, with white waistcoat; black embroidered stockings; crimson silk handkerchief; opera hat and crutch stick; high Wellington boots; shirt front, high collar; eyeglass in eye; buttonhole.

Monte Carlo.

The book is a tremendous amount of fun, just on reading alone, and it’s a great resource and imagination spark for all the costume makers and wearers out there. Fuck, I really wish I could sew.  It’s as well to remember that this book did cater to the rich, just look at the entry for Night. Diamonds scattered in the hair, and much more. Of course, there’s no need for them to be real.

Word Wednesday.

Brumal

Adjective.

Indicative of or occurring in the winter.

[Origin: Latin brumalis, from bruma winter (see brume).]

(1513)

“More – he is curious. He twists the handle, the metal’s coldness leaping along his arm like ice energy released from a brumal host.” – Haunted, James Herbert.

Brume

Noun.

Mist, fog.

Brumous, adjective.

[Origin: French, mist, winter from Old Occitan bruma, from Latin, winter solstice, winter; akin to Latin brevis short.]

(1800)

“Roger peered forward; he could discern nothing in the torchlit brume.” – The Demon, Douglas Nicholas.

Word Wednesday.

Subvert

Transitive verb.

1: to overturn or overthrow from the foundation: Ruin.

2: to pervert or corrupt by an undermining of morals, allegiance, or faith.

– subverter, noun.

[Origin: Middle English, from Anglo-French subvertir, from Latin subvertere, literally, to turn from beneath, from sub– + vertere to turn.]

(14th Century)

It was “an evil of such magnitude as to threaten the moral, social and national life of our country,” the handiwork of publishers with “diabolical intent” to “weaken morality and thereby destroy religion and subvert the social order.” – The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America, David Hadju.

Word Wednesday.

Hubris

Noun.

Exaggerated pride or self-confidence.

Hubristic, adjective.

[Origin: Greek, possibly a back-formation from hubristic or else from Greek hybris “wanton violence, insolence, outrage,” originally “presumption toward the gods”.]

(1884)

“There was a pertness to my tone that I regretted the moment it was out of my mouth for, to my ear, it spoke far too plainly of my intent. It was fortunate for me that the hubris of prideful men swells about them like a rising sea and fills their ears with nothing but the roaring of the ovations that await them. I might have told the apothecary every detail of the plot then, I think, and he would have heard nothing. If he had observed the opening and closing of my lips, doubtless he would have taken it for applause.” – The Nature of Monsters, Clare Clark.

Happy Indigenous Peoples Day.

In celebration of Indigenous Peoples Day, have a book! Nothing like some good reading. Give As We Have Always Done by Leanne Betasamosake Simpson a read, you won’t be sorry! Ms. Simpson’s site is here, Peter d’Errico reviewed here, and the book can be purchased direct from UMN press.

Word Wednesday.

Poxy

Adjective.

1: rotten; lousy.

2: having little value, importance, or influence.

From Pox (noun):

1: a virus disease

2: a disastrous evil: plague, curse.

[Origin: alteration of pocks, plural of pock.]

(Circa 1530)

“Plus he’s a land stealer,” adds Red Coyote. “Suckin’ old white guy. He should be called Prospero Corp. Next thing he’ll discover oil on it, develop it, machine-gun everyone to keep them off it.” “You’re such a poxy communist,” says SnakeEye. – Hag-Seed, Margaret Atwood.