If we have another referendum in which Remain is an option on the ballot paper, it would be the first time in the history of British democracy that the British people voted for something and it didn't happen, says Brendan O'Neill
Academics:
'WHAT DO WE WANT?' - 'Actual evidence of the problem you're saying is widespread.'
'WHEN DO WE WANT IT?' - 'Some time before you create a new policy based on the existence of that problem.'
Amazing entry from Pepys’ diary, 23 April 1667: ‘Just gave my name in ye Coffee Shoppe as “No Poperie”. When ye (presbyterian) Wench screamed my name repeatedly, ye whole room erupted in boisterous huzzahs. Result. Try it. And so to bed.’
‘The Year of Our Lorde 1665 hath been such a terrible one for ye plague. I cannot wait for 1666, for which I have especial excitement to trye the newe bakery that hath opened on Pudding Lane.’
Samuel Pepys, Diary Entry, 31 December 1665.
Obviously extremely bad form to tweet typos from student essays, but one just accidentally referred to the great Marxist historian of the 17th century Brian Manning as 'Bernard Manning' and I'm afraid I had to share.
Extremely rude of academia to insist that we develop 'arguments' and 'ideas' rather than simply gather tasty anecdotes from the archives and publish them.
Obviously I’m not going to open these as if I do I’ll immediately find some blundering typo, but I have to say the team at
@BloomsburyBooks
have made the thing look very nice indeed.
The thing is, Mark Rylance, is that no-one who had *any* knowledge of 16th/17th century England could think a hereditary earl was more capable of writing Shakespeare's plays than a middling sort townsman.
@jotis13
@AnnaAnthro
I was struck recently by reading how (wealthy) 17th century Londoners would pay close attention to the Bills of Mortality so as to make informed decisions as to when to flee town. Made me think of the way data reading has been central to our current experience.
Seeing as this thread now exists, I suppose we historians need to respond. The history of the poor is important, and we owe it to the historical poor to do it right.
Make no mistake about it, Britain had gulags. They were called workhouses.
After the 1830s, as Britain's elite oversaw the transition to a market economy, outdoor relief for the poor was scrapped - meaning hundreds of thousands entered the work house over the following decades.
I have a wee idea. A website with database of historians prepared to talk to state schools for free, searchable by topics and locality. Wonder how I can make this happen?
In 1641, the poet John Taylor engaged in a literary spat with the preacher Henry Walker.
Keeping things classy, Taylor published an image of Walker being discharged from the devil's anus (L), to which Walker responded with a picture of the devil shitting in Taylor's mouth (R).
Happy
#NationalChocolateCakeDay
#Cake
Fact
Oliver Cromwell banned the eating of chocolate cake in 1644, declaring it a pagan form of pleasure. For 16 years, cake eating and making went underground until the Restoration leaders lifted the ban on cake in 1660.
Anthony wants Cleopatra to know that whilst weeing in a nearby pot is fine, there are also perfectly good toilets in the next room, and they have nice Molton Brown soap.
Ladies, if he:
- Never texts back
- Never watches your Insta story
- believes the world is flat
- has no idea about science
- regularly burns witches
- dies aged 35 of the plague
That's not your man, that's a Dark Age peasant.
Appalling 20th century novelty here from Rees-Mogg. Everyone knows the title of ‘Esquire’ should only be used for the eldest sons of the younger sons of peers, the eldest sons of baronets and knights, and senior officers of the Crown.
Exclusive from
@itvnews
The new Leader of the House of Commons Jacob Rees-Mogg has instructed all staff in his new office to use imperial measurements and refer to ‘non-titled males’ as ‘esquire’.
Since the words 'Tory' and 'Whig' both started as insults, I fully expect British politics to soon be contested between the Gammon Party and the Melt Party.
I know I shouldn’t brag about my party lifestyle, but it’s 10.30 on a Friday night, and I’m at home voting in a twitter poll about medieval cathedrals.
‘Ye worste aspect of the plague so far hath beene the antiquarians who, suddenlye possessed with the belief they understande ye natural sciences, have been spoutinge off their pens, thinking they can perceive the causes of our lamentable contagion.’
Pepys, 25 March 1665.
So there’s a Daily Mail hatchet job on a number of my colleagues today. I don’t know everyone in it, but I know a few of them, and here’s some of the things they didn’t mention.
Here's something nerdy and wonderful. On the right, an English recipe for roast meat from 1683. It includes 'half a Spoonful of Ketchup'. It's the earliest printed use of 'ketchup' in English as a proper loanword (from Malay).
Happy Birthday to Henry IV and Taylor Swift, born
#otd
1553 and 1989. One is a famously slick political operator, able to compromise their ideological principles for gain, the other is a king of France.
To Reviewer Two: NEVER, EVER ASK ME TO CLARIFY MY ARGUMENT AGAIN OR YOU WILL SUFFER CONSEQUENCES THE LIKES OF WHICH FEW THROUGHOUT HISTORY HAVE EVER SUFFERED BEFORE. I AM NO LONGER A HISTORIAN WHO WILL STAND FOR YOUR DEMENTED WORDS OF MINOR REVISION. BE CAUTIOUS!
In the 13th century, the Chinese government banned trade with Java, so Javanese merchants started to claim they were from ‘Sukadana’, a place they had made up.
Idea: the Bad History Awards. Given every year to public figures who have committed crimes against the past. The award could be in the shape of a horned Viking helmet, or a Cromwell-shaped pie.
The Restoration happened
#OnThisDay
in 1660. But, as this picture shows, it was only possible because Charles II threatened the country with a stick and a thermal detonator.
Good to see the Guardian correctly using the term ‘Dark Ages’ for the 14th century. So little is known about the period that historians are forced to rely on the immense corpus of surviving material to shed any light on it at all.
During the English Civil War, the town of Newark had a governor called Sir Dick Willys. This fact is even better when you realise what ‘Newark’ is an anagram of.