Wikipedia:Reference desk/Archives/Humanities/2007 May 18

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May 18

Catarina van Hemessen

I have worked on the article Catarina van Hemessen. There are three red wiki-links on the page. I was wondering if anybody had sources for article on these topidcs?

• Guild of St. Luke--St Luke's Guild of Delft?
• Chretian de Morien
• Öffentliche Kunstsammlung

thanks.—Gaff ^ταλκ 04:30, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

I've moved the article to Caterina van Hemessen, as this spelling appears to be more common. As to your questions: why Delft? Without doubt, this was the illustrious painters' Guild of St. Luke of Antwerp. The name "Chretian" seems to be a misspelling; either "Christian" (Flemish style), or "Chrétien" (French style). His main claim to notability may be his being the husband of Caterina. In 1936, the Öffentliche Kunstsammlung Basel moved into the Kunstmuseum Basel[1] (on which there is no Wikipedia article either).  --Lambiam^Talk 07:57, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

false arrest

What public policy supports granting merchants immunity from false imprisonment for detaining innocent persons?

See our article Shopkeeper's privilege. If the detainment was malicious or frivolous, you might wish to see a lawyer. In case of an apparently honest mistake, prosecutors will not prosecute, however, and they will likely give the merchant the benefit of the doubt.  --Lambiam^Talk 08:08, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

Treaty of Amiens

How was the 1802 Treaty of Amiens received in Britain? What were the factors leading to its collapse? 86.132.6.195 10:40, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

In the third paragraph of the article you have noted, Breakdown, you will find some information on the topic. Bielle 20:30, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

There was a considerable amout of war-weariness in Britain by the beginning of 1802, and the peace was widely welcomed by many ordinary people. Across the country there were feasts, firework displays and congratulatory addresses of one kind or another. The mood of relief was heightened still further when corn prices started to come down, and the income tax, introduced by William Pitt the Younger, was abolished by the new ministry of Henry Addington. The war itself, moreover, had, after nine long years, being getting absolutely nowhere, and ever since the Treaty of Luneville in February 1801 between France and Austria, Britain had been fighting alone. But Amiens was never more than a breathing space, a fact clearly recognised by governing circles in both London and Paris. Even so, there were many in England who were deeply critical of Addiington's peace, particularly among his political enemies, believing the price he had paid to be far too high. William Cobbett says that the terms of the treaty were 'universally condemned', and George Canning spoke out against the "gross faults and omissions, the weakness and the baseness, and shuffling and stupidity that mark this treaty."

History has not been entirely fair to Addington, and for sound reasons. Amiens, a peace that was no peace, had only been obtained by weakening the nation's strategic position, and by virtually surrendering Europe to Napoleon. But there were good grounds for seaking a break in hostilities. The national debt had grown to alarming proportions, trade was in serious deficit and, following a succession of bad harvests, inflation was in danger of getting out of control. By the spring of 1801 food shortages were the cause of widespread rioting, under the banner of 'Bread or Blood.' Addington, who replaced Pitt as Prime Minister in March 1801, was fully aware of growing back-bench hostility in the House of Commons against the war. Peace was necessary, Addington believed, not just to allow Britain a period of recovery, but to allow powers like Austria and Prussia time to rebuild their own strength and will to fight. Britain's defences were maintained in good shape, the peace notwithstanding, and lower taxation allowed trade to recover.

There were those, of course, who embraced the peace wholeheartedly, including Charles James Fox, the Whig leader, who took the opportunity to travel to Paris and visit Napoleon, then First Consul of France. But bit by bit British opinion turned against the peace. Anti-French fervour grew in intensity towards the close of 1802, as people became ever more aware of Napoleon's expansionist policy in Europe. Addington played a careful game, placing the country's finances in order and increasing its defensive capacity in perparation for the coming rupture. The navy was improved, as was the army. In May 1803 Britain declared war on France at a time that Addington judged best, and well before Napoleon's own plans were complete. The country now had the economic strength, the will and the power to continue the fight from this point forward with no further interruption. Clio the Muse 01:36, 19 May 2007 (UTC)

Schlieffen Plan

I read recently, I can't remember where, that the Schliefen Plan never really existed. What are the arguments for this? General joffe 10:50, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

See the criticism in Schlieffen Plan. --Kainaw ^(talk) 12:34, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

I have a feeling that you might, Mon Generale, conceivably have read Inventing the Schlieffen Plan: German War Planning, 1871-1914 by Terence Zuber, a former infantry commander in the United States Army? When I first studied the outbreak of the First World War I always thought it strange that German military planning would call for such a vast sweep to the west of Paris, with the inevitable delays, uncertainties and sheer length of time this would involve, to say nothing at all of the possibility of a serious gap growing between the advancing armies, and the possibility that would be presented for enemy flanking action. Zuber's book shows that the Schlieffen Plan, as we have conceived of it, never existed in any meaningful sense. Schlieffen, rather, had devised a series of excercises, which focused on a variety of scenarios, but always envisaged that the decisive battles-and we have to stress the word battles-would be fought in or around the frontiers, in the area between Metz, Namur, and Liege. Much of his thinking, moreover, was hypothetical, because he was drawing on German units that existed only on paper, demonstrating his concern that while France was employing virtually all of its potential manpower, Germany was only using a more limited portion, which, as Zuber quite rightly contends, was the whole point of his Plan. In his 1906 study, Schlieffen employed the total German force, the number of divisons actually available at the time, and then added all the units he thought could be raised from the country's trained manpower. It was then he produced what he thought of as the worst case scenario: that the French would hold the line from Verdun to Paris, forcing a sweep further to the west, but concluded that the German Army was probably too weak (my emphasis) for such an extended operation. Helmuth von Moltke, chief of the German General Staff from 1906 to 1914, never made any attempt to test the 1906 Plan. Rather, in the strategic map exercise he conducted in 1906, he followed the solution used by Schlieffen in 1905: in face of a major French offensive in Lorrane, the right-wing of the German army would respond by attacking through Metz. In other words, this would be a battle with the main French force, wherever it was to be found. It was not a plan for invading France, but for meeting an enemy offensive head-on.

In essence, therefore, all of the German planning was built around the aim of winning the first battles, not on a massive battle of annihilation, Hannibal-style. It was intended that the German left would pin the French down in their Lorraine fortresses, while the right would counter-attack further west, cross the River Meuse, and then move behind the enemy defensive line. Resistance would be broken by attacks to the front and the rear. This first campaign was then to be followed by further attacks in the French interior. There was never an intention by either Schlieffen or Moltke to swing the right-wing of the German army to the west of Paris, and the left was always kept very strong. There was no intent to destroy the French army in one massive battle. There never was a Schlieffen Plan. Clio the Muse 11:11, 19 May 2007 (UTC)

Martin Heidegger

Your article on Martin Heidegger and Nazism refers to his 'spectacular failure' of his rectorship at the University of Freiburg, but offers no explanation at all for the reasons behind this. Are people expected to know what they were by intuition alone? Perhaps some explanation might be offered for the failure here? At least I hope so. E. G. A.. Husserl 13:01, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

If you can improve the article, please do. Otherwise, I suggest you raise this issue on the discussion page for that article.--Shantavira 13:53, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

I cannot 'improve' the article on the basis of information I do not have, which is why I came here in the first place. Does anyone know? E. G. A.. Husserl 17:53, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

You might want to begin with The Rectorate 1933-34: Facts and Thoughts, Heidegger's post-War memoir on the period, though I should caution you that this is a work of self-justification, which disguises as much as it reveals. In essence, his rectorship at Freiburg collapsed for of a variety of reasons, including good old-fashioned departmental politics, vicious and treacherous as always, no matter what regime they operate under! Beyond that, one has to take into consideration Heidegger's own political naïvete and his gross over-estimation of his importance, both in the Nazi academic world and the broader scheme of things. One also has to take into account the nature of the Nazi system itself, and its underlying theory and practice. No matter what stress was placed upon the sublime, Nazism was shaped by mediocrity, not excellence. It was the world not of the Superman, but the Supermouse.

In his memoir, Heidegger maintains that his position at Freiburg was undermined by a conspiracy, involving his academic rivals and the district student leader, Dr Gustav Scheel, who later became Reich leader of students and university lecturers, and Gauleiter of Salzburg. Heidegger certainly had opponents at Freiburg, especially in the Law Faculty, though not all were doctrinaire Nazis. The matter, though, went far beyond the confines of the University. In November 1933 the Nazis created their own structure of leadership within the whole university system, elevating Party mediocrities and time-servers to important positions in the Reich Association of German Universities. It was a clear declaration that Heidegger's bid for leadership of the German university system had falied, and that the Nazis had no real use for him, no matter his international stature. Abandoned by many of his more important colleagues at Freiburg, and snubbed by the government, Heidegger was in a personal, professional and political limbo.

There were also those in the Nazi movement, led by Erich Jaensch, his former colleague at the University of Marburg, who made every attempt to ensure that Heidegger would not be offered a leading position in Prussia or the Reich, because they did not wish him to be seen as 'the philosopher of National Socialism.' Jaensch complied a memorandum arguing against a proposal that Heidegger be appointed head of the Prussian Academy of University Lecturers. It would be against all reason, he wrote, " ...if what is possibly the most important post in the intellectual life of the nation in the weeks and months ahead were to be filled by one of the biggest scatterbrains and most eccentric cranks we have in our university system: a man about whom men who are perfectly rational, intelligent and loyal to the new state argue among themselves as to which side of the dividing line between sanity and mental illness he is on." And this on one of the best philosophical minds Germany produced in the whole of the twentieth century! Against this background it is no great surprise that his rectorship failed. He finally resigned in April 1934, not February, as he says in Facts and Thoughts. You will find much more detail on this whole affair in Part Three of Martin Heidegger: A Political Life by Hugo Ott. Clio the Muse 00:26, 19 May 2007 (UTC)

Ah, at last, excellent, quite excellent. A magnificant answer, Clio the Muse. I will look for the texts you have mentioned. My sincerest thanks. E. G. A.. Husserl 05:56, 19 May 2007 (UTC)

An English translation of Heidegger's memoir can be found online: http://www.eco.utexas.edu/~hmcleave/350kPEEHeideggerRectorate.pdf.  --Lambiam^Talk 07:36, 19 May 2007 (UTC)

Why (aside because you say so) is Heidegger's memoir less reliable than Ott's work? Is that your personal take? Opinions are ok by me, but please label them as such. Lewis 00:32, 21 May 2007 (UTC)

Will Power

Does anybody know of any good books with strategies for increasing will power or self-discipline. I've searched on google and at the local library, but the nearest result to either of those is "how to discpline your child" in varied forms. I've heard martial arts have elements of this in their cirriculum, which may be useful as well if it were better seperated, but I'm more interested in systematic approaches with basis in pyschology if possible. 161.28.144.36 16:45, 18 May 2007 (UTC)Paul

You are asking this of a bunch of people who spend their time editing Wikipedia instead of working?

• I googled it and found a load of hits on Amazon with virtually that title.Could'nt recomend any from personal experience though.(see above!)hotclaws 08:13, 19 May 2007 (UTC)

London life in 1700

Hi. I'm looking for information on what life was like in London around the year 1700. Thanks in advance. Gordon Nash 17:40, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

The Diary of Samuel Pepys will take you there. The article has a link to free online editions (and other goodies) in the section External links.  --Lambiam^Talk 22:54, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

1700 Scenes From London Life by Maureen Waller could be worth checking out. Published by Sceptre ISBN 0-340-73967-3 Natalie West 23:07, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

It most certainly is worth 'checking-out', and just to confirm that here is a taster of some of the delights the book contains. The first thing you would notice, if you manged to wind your way back to those distant days, would be the almost constant pealing of church bells. They were rung not just to summon the faithful, but to alert the community to a hanging-a popular specator sport-or to a death, when it would toll nine times for a man, six for a woman and three for a child, followed even more somberly by one stroke for each year she or he had lived. The bell was also a prompt for the 'searchers', the old crones employed by the parish "to repair to the place where the dead corps lies, and by view of the same, and other enquiries, to examine by what disease or casualty the corps died." They were on the look-out chiefly for signs of the plague, and their instant 'diagnosis' would then appear in the London Bills of Mortality.

London by 1700, with half-a-million people, was the largest city in Europe, and with no sanitary arrangements whatsoever. Those approaching from the countryside were first alerted to its presence by smell before sight. Heaps of human sewage were deposited by 'night-soil' men by the roadside. Walking through the streets the traveller had to be constantly alert to the sudden emptying of chamber pots out or windows into the 'kennels', or open-drains running down the middle of the street. Jonathan Swift describes these delightful depositories being blocked with "Sweepings from Butchers Stalls, Dung, Guts, and Blood, Drown'd Puppies, stinking Sprats, all drench'd in Mud, Dead Cats, and Turnip-Tops." If this was not bad enough our lucky traveller would have to breath in air thick with sulpherous smoke from domestic fires and industrial furnaces. Those living near graveyards would also have to endure the stink of decaying corpses, buried just below the surface.

Having survived the baptism of stink and smoke, the said traveller was highly likely to contract some fatal disease soon after arrival. Malaria was commonplace, as was typhoid from the contaminated water-supply. Contaminated food was a major cause of dysentry. Poor personal hygene meant that most people, high and low, had fleas and lice, even to be found in the gentleman's periwig. Smallpox was also rife-so called to distinguish it from the great pox, or syphilis, which was all to common among certain sections of the community. Tuberculosis, also common, was the cause of endless spitting and wretching, both indoors and out. One in three babies died before the age of two; and of those who survived, half were dead before the age of fifteen. A great many of these unfortunates simply died of ignorance, with mothers using dirty coins to sooth the pains of teething, and forcing babies to eat solids.

Our traveller would have to find some means of supporting herself or himself quickly, for life was hard and there was no allowance for failure. Suicide was common, and the details of the deaths were eagerly reported by the hack press of Grub Street-"Yesterday morning a woman near White-chappel, who workt to a throwster in those parts, and earned 8 shillings a week, hanged herself in her lodging; but nobody can guess at the reason of her despair."

Welcome to London! Clio the Muse 02:32, 19 May 2007 (UTC)

Ends of the Western Front

Everyone knows what the trench lines of the WWI Western Front looked like. But what about the ends of the line? I presume the northern end consisted of barbed wire running out to sea, but what kept one side from flanking the other at the southern end? Was the southern end anchored on a ridgeline or other barrier? Was the Swiss army there to keep both sides out of Switzerland? Or was there just an agreement that neither side would step across a certain line? --67.185.172.158 23:01, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

This should have all you need to know on the matter... Shimgray | talk | 23:09, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

Hmm, you have to enable Javascript or that page appears blank.

Here's another, less detailed page which turns up as the first hit if you google on "south" and "end of the western front". --Anonymous, May 18, 2007, 23:18 (UTC).

Non-Javascript URL: http://www.xs4all.nl/~aur/Battlefields/swiss.htm -- AnonMoos 07:55, 19 May 2007 (UTC)

Celsus and Thyestes

In the article about Celsus, which originally comes from the 1911 Britannica, there's a line that says: "Celsus does not indeed repeat the Thyestean charges so frequently brought against Christians." Now, the Thyestes article is fascinating and bloody, but I can't see what relation it has to Christianity. What would be the Thyestean charges that were so frequently (1500+ years ago) brought against Christianity? zafiroblue05 | Talk 23:05, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

"He served Thyestes his own sons and then taunted him with their hands and feet. This is the source of modern phrase "Thyestean Feast," or one at which human flesh is served."

I suspect that's the origin; it's pretty easy to see how you could draw a comparison between that and the doctrine of transubstantiation. Shimgray | talk | 23:27, 18 May 2007 (UTC)

Indeed, that is very likely the origin. See the article on Apology of Aristides at the 1911 Britannica, and search for "the charges of Thyestean banquets". But what the essence of the charges really is... It is all expressed in a rather cryptic way.  --Lambiam^Talk 23:39, 18 May 2007 (UTC)