18th Century: Age of Enlightenment

Palomar · 2003-04-08 11:18:14

*I've been discussing Thomas Paine at my private mailing list; here's a recent post of mine regarding him:

I mentioned in the last post relative to this subject that Paine was
hired as editor of "Pennsylvania Magazine." Its proprietor was Mr.
Robert Aitkin. Paine was successful in his role as editor of this
magazine; within 3 months of the magazine's first edition, it had
1500 subscribers.

However, Aitkin and Paine soon became at odds. Aitkin objected to
the "outspoken radicalness" of Paine's articles. Paine resigned his
post as editor after 6 months with the magazine, mostly out of
differences of opinion with Aitkin, and also because he wanted to
devote himself to the cause for independence. Paine also would not
tolerate Aitkin's censorious mutilations of his articles.

Mr. Woodward tells us a man named Hesketh Pearson wrote a book
entitled _Tom Paine: Friend of Mankind_. Pearson said Paine
was "probably the first person to display an entirely civilized
attitude toward women." Pearson credits Paine as having started the
movement for women's emanicipation.

Paine anticipated the single tax theories of Henry George, and
foresaw Comte's "religion of humanity." Paine was an intense
individualist who viewed government (the state) as a "necessary
evil" -- and the less of it, the better.

Freedom, Reason and Kindness (which Paine called "Humanity") were the
three Stars of his idealism.

In May 1775 Paine wrote an unsigned article ridiculing and condemning
the practice of dueling; this article caused quite a stir. He wrote
_Useful and Entertaining Hints_, wherein urged his readers to pursue
scientific pursuits and foster inventive genius. It was in this
writing that he suggested ways of making soil more productive, and
advocated the use of labor-saving devices.

--Cindy

Palomar · 2003-04-11 12:53:13

*Recently posted by me to my private mailing list:

Excerpts from Poor Richard's Almanack and other writings are included
in an edition I own of Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography. Keep in
mind that Franklin was a very young man, yet in his mid-20s, when he
wrote these Almanacks. Included is a poem written by Franklin
regarding Contentment; in my book it is quoted verbatim, i.e. with
Old English style writing and expression. I've carefully reworded it
into modern American English, for the benefit of my foreign
subscribers (no meaning will be lost in my rewording):

"Some ancient Philosophers have said that Happiness depends more on
the inward Disposition of Mind than on outward Circumstances; and
that he who cannot be happy in any State (circumstance) can be so in
no State (circumstance). To be happy, they tell us, we must be
content. Right. But they do not teach us how we may become
content. Poor Richard shall give you a short good Rule for that. To
be content, look backward on those who possess less than yourself,
not forward on those who possess more. If this does not make you
content, you don't deserve to be happy.

CONTENTMENT! Parent of Delight
So much a stranger in our Sight
Say, Goddess, in what happy Place
Mortals behold thy blooming Face;
Your gracious Auspices impart,
And for your Temple cause my Heart.
They whom you deign to inspire,
Your Science learn, to bound Desire;
By happy alchemy of Mind
They turn to Pleasure all they find.
Unmoved when the rude Tempest blows,
Without an Opiate they repose;
And, covered by your Shield, defy
The whizzing Shafts that round them fly;
Nor, meddling with the Gods Affairs,
Concern themselves with distant Cares;
But place their Bliss in mental Rest,
And feast upon the Good possessed.

***

--Cindy

Palomar · 2003-04-11 13:07:33

*Recently posted by me to my private mailing list:

I'm summarizing, in my own words, information I've read regarding fashion and style in Colonial Philadelphia, 1774 [this information courtesy of _Tom Paine: America's Godfather_ by W. Woodward]:

*Some of Philadelphia's streets were paved with bricks, but most were
dirt roads. Carriages were generally despised as evidence
of "snobbery", and were especially hated when the wheels of carriages
would splash mud on pedestrians; sometimes people would throw stones
at carriages for splashing dirty water or mud on them. Sedan chairs
were in more general use; in fact, I recall reading in _Miracle at
Philadelphia_ that Benjamin Franklin was carried to meetings of the
Constitutional Convention in a sedan chair; he was so elderly by that
time.

*Philadelphians were fascinated by bright colors. Mr. Woodward tells
us that the fronts of shops were painted in gaudy colors with huge
signs hanging over streets painted red, yellow, blue and green. This
surprised me.

*Quakers made up a large portion of the Philadelphian population; on
special occasions they wore solemn clothing, but apparently
their "everyday wear" included apparel that was smart, expensive and
colorful. Silken knee breeches could be obtained in a great variety
of colors.

*The more well-to-do folk wore silver buckles on their shoes and
large silver coat buttons; initials carved into such buttons were
especially a sign of affluence.

*Young Philadelphian men tended to wear swords, like in England, but
older men no longer did.

*Cocked hats were worn by men, which were decorated with gold lace.
Wearing wigs was going out of fashion, and most distinguished men of
the time powdered their own hair, and curled it in the back. Many
grew their hair long and made a pigtail of it, which was then caught
up in a silk net bag.

*Society ladies wore silks, velvets and brocades. The stays of their
dresses were stiff and very hard. Hoop skirts did not extend an
equal distance from the body in all directions, but to the right and
left extended out from 6 inches to 2 feet. This gave the lady the
appearance of being wider and flatter, and they had to move sideways
in order to enter a room.

--Cindy

Palomar · 2003-04-15 09:41:35

What Is a Philosopher? Voltaire's Opinion:

In a letter dated March 1, 1765, Voltaire writes to "M. Damilaville";
Voltaire is living at Ferney. He has explained to "M. Damilaville"
the cases of the Calas and Sirvens families (victims of injustice),
and his humanitarian interventions on their behalf.

Here is a portion of the letter, wherein Voltaire discusses his
opinion of what a true philosopher is:

"A philosopher's [role] is not to pity the unhappy -- it is to be of
use to them.

I know how furiously fanaticism attacks philosophy, whose two
daughters, Truth and Tolerance, fanaticism would fain destroy as it
destroyed the Calas: while philosophy only wishes to render
innocuous the offspring of fanaticism, Falsehood and Persecution.

Those who do not reason try to bring into discredit those who do:
they have confused the philsopher with the sophist, and have greatly
deceived themselves. The true philosopher can be aroused against the
calumny which so often attacks himself; he can overwhelm with
everlasting contempt the vile mercenary who twice a month outrages
sense, good taste and morality; he can even expose to ridicule, in
passing, those who insult literature in the sanctuary where they
should have honored it: but he knows nothing of cabals, underhanded
dealings or petty revenge. Like the sage of Montbar, like the sage
of Vore, he knows how to make the land fruitful and those who dwell
on it happier. The real philosopher clears uncultivated ground, adds
to the number of plows and, so, to the number of inhabitants: employs
and enriches the poor: encourages marriages and finds a home for the
orphan: does not grumble at necessary taxes, and puts the
agriculturalist in a condition to pay them [taxes] promptly. He
expects nothing from others, and does them all the good he can. He
has a horror of hypocrisy, but he pities the superstitious: and,
finally, he knows how to be a friend."

--cindy

dicktice · 2003-04-15 21:14:46

My goodness, Cindy ... one begins to realize where your interests lie! Sorry, but that's my only reply. I'm 'way out of my depth. Just wanted you to know you're being read and appreciated.

Palomar · 2003-04-16 05:37:13

Just wanted you to know you're being read and appreciated.

*Thanks!

--Cindy

Palomar · 2003-04-17 18:25:13

*Wolfgang Mozart deemed musical Master at age of 8.

Posted this evening by me to my private mailing list (this is NOT copyrighted material). Comments by a Mr. Turner beneath the text.

A scientific examination of Wolfgang's musical skills was
made by the Honorable Daines Barrington. He wrote a report of his observations, which appeared in "Philosophical Transactions," Volume XL. Mr. Barrington clearly relates in terms easily to visualize the exceptional gifts of 8-year-old Mozart:

"...At seven years of age his father carried him to Paris where he so
distinguished himself by his compositions that an engraving was made
of him. The father and sister who are introduced are exceedingly
like their portraits; so is also little Mozart, who is
styled 'Compositeur et Maitre de Musique age de sept ans.' After the
name of the engraver follows the date, which is 1764; Mozart was
therefore at this time in the eighth year of his age.

Upon leaving Paris, he came to England where he continued more than a
year. As during this time I was witness of his most extraordinary
abilities as a musician, both at some public concerts and likewise
having been alone with him for a considerable time at his father's
house, I send you the following account, amazing and incredible
almost as it may appear.

I carried to him a manuscript duet, which was composed by an English
gentleman to some favorite words in Metastasios opera
of 'Demofoonte.' The whole score was in five parts--accompaniments
for a first and second violin, the two vocal parts and a bass. I
shall here likewise mention that the parts for the first and second
voice were written in the counter-tenor cleff; the reason for taking
notice of which particular will appear hereafter.

My intention in carrying this manuscript composition was to hear an
irrefragable proof of his abilities as a player at sight, it being
absolutely impossible that he could have ever seen this music before.

The score was no sooner put upon his desk than he began to play the
symphony in a most masterly manner, as well as in the time and style
which corresponded with the intention of the composer. I mention
this circumstance because the greatest masters often fail in these
particulars on the first trial. The symphony ended he took the upper
part, leaving the under one to his father.

His voice, in the tone of it, was thin and infantile but nothing
could exceed the masterly manner in which he sung.

His father, who performed the under part in this duet, was once or
twice out, though the passages were not more difficult than those in
the upper one; on which occasions the son looked back with some
anger, pointing out to the father some mistakes and setting him right.

He not only, however, did complete justice to the duet by singing
his own part in the truest and with the greatest precision: he also
threw in the accompaniments of the two violins, wherever they were
most necessary and produced the best effects. It is well known that
none but the most capital musicians are capable of accompanying in
this superior style.

...When he had finished the duet he expressed himself highly in its
approbation, asking with some eagerness whether I had brought any
more such music.

Having been informed, however, that he was often visited with musical
ideas to which, even in the middle of the night, he would give
utterance on his harpsichord, I told his father that I should be glad
to hear some of his extemporary flights.

The father shook his head at this, saying that it depended entirely
upon his being as it were musically inspired, but that I might ask
him whether he was in humor for such a composition.

Happening to know that little Mozart was much taken notice of by
Manzuoli, the famous singer who came over to England in 1764, I said
to the boy that I should be glad to hear an extemporary 'Love Song,'
such that his friend Manzuoli might choose in an opera.

The boy, on this (who continued to sit at his harpsichord), looked
back with much archness* and immediately began five or six lines of a
jargon recitative proper to introduce a love song. He then played a
symphony which might correspond with an air composed to the single
affetto.

It had a first and a second part which, together with the symphonies,
was of the length that opera songs generally last: if this
extremporary composition was not amazingly capital, yet it was really
above mediocrity and showed most extraordinary readiness of invention.

Finding that he was in humor, as it were inspired, I then desired him
to compose a 'Song of Rage' such as might be proper for the opera
stage.

The boy again looked back with much archness and began five or six
lines of a jargon recitative proper to precede a 'Song of Anger.'
This lasted also about the same time with the 'Song of Love;' and in
the middle of it he had worked himself up to such a pitch that he
beat his harpsichord like a person possessed, rising sometimes in his
chair**. The word he pitched upon for this second extemporary
composition was 'Perfido.'

After this he played a difficult lesson, which he had finished a day
or two before; his execution was amazing, considering that his little
fingers could scarcely reach a sixth on the harpischord.

His astonishing readiness, however, did not arise merely from great
practice; he had a thorough knowledge of the fundamental principles
of composition as, upon producing a treble, he immediately wrote a
bass under it which, when tried, had a very good effect.

He was also a great master of modulation and his transitions from one
key to another were excessively natural and judicious...

The facts which I have been mentioning I was myself an eye-witness
of...Witness as I was myself...I must own that I could not help
suspecting his father [had] imposed with regard to the real age of
the boy, though he had only a most childish appearance but likewise
had all the actions of that stage of life***. For example, while he
was playing to me, a favorite cat came in, upon which he immediately
left his harpsichord, nor could we bring him back for a considerable
time...He would also sometimes run about the room with a stick
between his legs by way of a horse..."

Comments by Mr. Turner:

*Connoisseurs will never understand the amusements of genius but it
does not matter, so long as they are sincere.

**Here we have the most illuminating piece of information. It is
precisely in this passion that the prodigy Mozart showed his chief
difference from other prodigies who have never fulfilled their early
promise.

***Barrington made inquiries and obtained proof of Mozart's having
been born in 1756 from the register of Salzburg.

--Cindy

Shaun Barrett · 2003-04-18 20:58:41

Amazing!!

Palomar · 2003-05-07 12:44:03

*Voltaire's letter to Jean-Jacques Rousseau; I've copied and pasted this from the Voltaire Society of America web site. There are no copyright issues (the letters are not copyrighted, and thus VSA has no copyright authority over them):

Les DELICES, August 30, 1755.

I have received, sir, your new book against the human species, and I thank you for it. You will please people by your manner of telling them the truth about themselves, but you will not alter them. The horrors of that human society--from which in our feebleness and ignorance we expect so many consolations--have never been painted in more striking colours: no one has ever been so witty as you are in trying to turn us into brutes: to read your book makes one long to go on all fours. Since, however, it is now some sixty years since I gave up the practice, I feel that it is unfortunately impossible for me to resume it: I leave this natural habit to those more fit for it than are you and I. Nor can I set sail to discover the aborigines of Canada, in the first place because my ill-health ties me to the side of the greatest doctor in Europe, and I should not find the same professional assistance among the Missouris: and secondly because war is going on in that country, and the example of the civilised nations has made the barbarians almost as wicked as we are ourselves. I must confine myself to being a peaceful savage in the retreat I have chosen--close to your country, where you yourself should be.

I agree with you that science and literature have sometimes done a great deal of harm. Tasso's enemies made his life a long series of misfortunes: Galileo's enemies kept him languishing in prison, at seventy years of age, for the crime of understanding the revolution of the earth: and, what is still more shameful, obliged him to forswear his discovery. Since your friends began the Encyclopaedia, their rivals attack them as deists, atheists--even Jansenists.

If I might venture to include myself among those whose works have brought them persecution as their sole recompense, I could tell you of men set on ruining me from the day I produced my tragedy Oedipe: of a perfect library of absurd calumnies which have been written against me: of an ex-Jesuit priest whom I saved from utter disgrace rewarding me by defamatory libels: of a man yet more contemptible printing my Century of Louis XIV with Notes in which crass ignorance gave birth to the most abominable falsehoods: of yet another, who sold to a publisher some chapters of a Universal History supposed to be by me: of the publisher avaricious enough to print this shapeless mass of blunders, wrong dates, mutilated facts and names: and, finally, of men sufficiently base and craven to assign the production of this farago to me. I could show you all society poisoned by this class of person--a class unknown to the ancients--who, not being able to find any honest occupation--be it manuel labour or service--and unluckily knowing how to read and write, become the brokers of literature, live on our works, steal our manuscripts, falsify them, and self them. I could tell of some loose sheets of a gay trifle which I wrote thirty years ago (on the same subject that Chapelain was stupid enough to treat seriously) which are in circulation now through the breach of faith and the cupidity of those who added their own grossness to my badinage and filled in the gaps with a dullness only equalled by their malice; and who, finally, after twenty years, are selling everywhere a manuscript which, in very truth, is theirs and worthy of them only.

I may add, last of all, that someone has stolen part of the material I amassed in the public archives to use in my History of the War of 1741 when I was historiographer of France; that he sold that result of my labours to a bookseller in Paris; and is as set on getting hold of my property as if I were dead and he could turn it into money by putting it up to auction. I could show you ingratitude, imposture, and rapine pursuing me for forty years to the foot of the Alps and the brink of the grave. But what conclusion ought I to draw from all these misfortunes? This only: that I have no right to complain: Pope, Descartes, Bayle, Camoens--a hundred others--have been subjected to the same, or greater, injustice: and my destiny is that of nearly everyone who has loved letters too well.

Confess, sir, that all these things are, after all, but little personal pin-pricks, which society scarcely notices. What matter to humankind that a few drones steal the honey of a few bees? Literary men make a great fuss of their petty quarrels: the rest of the world ignores them, or laughs at them.

They are, perhaps, the least serious of all the ills attendant on human life. The thorns inseparable from literature and a modest degree of fame are flowers in comparison with the other evils which from all time have flooded the world. Neither Cicero, Varron, Lucretius, Virgil, or Horace had any part in the proscriptions of Marius, Scylla, that profligate Antony, or that fool Lepidus; while as for that cowardly tyrans, Octavius Caesar--servilely entitled Augustus--he only became an assassin when he was deprived of the society of men of letters.

Confess that Italy owed none of her troubles to Petrarch or to Boccaccio: that Marot's jests were not responsible for the massacre of St.Bartholomew: or the tragedy of the Cid for the wars of the Fronde. Great crimes are always committed by great ignoramuses. What makes, and will always make, this world a vale of tears is the insatiable greediness and the indomitable pride of men, from Thomas Koulikan, who did not know how to read, to a customhouse officer who can just count. Letters support, refine, and comfort the soul: they are serving you, sir, at the very moment you decry them: you are like Achilles declaiming against fame, and Father Malebranche using his brilliant imagination to belittle imagination.

If anyone has a right to complain of letters, I am that person, for in all times and in all places they have led to my being persecuted: still, we must needs love them in spite of the way they are abused--as we cling to society, though the wicked spoil its pleasantness: as we must love our country, though it treats us unjustly: and as we must love and serve the Supreme Being, despite the superstition and fanaticism which too often dishonour His service.

M. Chappus tells me your health is very unsatisfactory: you must come and recover here in your native place, enjoy its freedom, drink (with me) the milk of its cows, and browse on its grass.

I am yours most philosophically and with sincere esteem.

Palomar · 2003-05-10 09:00:48

*Posted by me today to my private mailing list. It was written (no copyright issues, as copyrights didn't exist in days of yore) by Denis Diderot, mentioned in this thread before. Jean-Jacques Rousseau praised Diderot as "A transcendent genius which had no equal in his age." Diderot has also been called "the incendiary philosophe."

This is one of the most brilliant paragraphs I've ever read:

"Skepticism is not suited to everyone. It presupposes a deep and disinterested inquiry into things: a man who doubts because he cannot seen the reasons in favor of a belief is merely ignorant. The true skeptic has counted and weighed the reasons. But the appreciation of such arguments is no inconsiderable matter. Which of us knows their exact value? Even if someone produced a hundred proofs of the same truth, each of them would have its partisans. Every mind contains its own telescope. The objection that looms to me like a colossus may count for nothing in your eyes; and you may dismiss as trivial an argument that I find overwhelming. If we are divided over intrinsic value, how are we to agree on relative importance? Tell me, how many moral proofs are needed to outweigh a metaphysical conclusion? Are my lenses deficient, or are yours? And if it is so difficult to weigh our reasons, if there are no questions without their pros and cons, and these almost in equal measure, why then do we decide so quickly? How is it we speak in such decided tones? Have we not ourselves experienced a hundred times how repulsive dogmatic arrogance is in others?"

Quoted from _Diderot's Selected Writings_.

--Cindy

dicktice · 2003-05-10 09:59:08

Cindy: I hope you're not waiting for someone of us poor ignorant "skeptics" to put up an argument against THAT; might as well just end the thread, kiddo....

Palomar · 2003-05-10 10:43:42

Cindy: I hope you're not waiting for someone of us poor ignorant "skeptics" to put up an argument against THAT; might as well just end the thread, kiddo....

*Diderot isn't saying that skeptics are ignorant, nor is he equating skeptics with ignorant people. He's differentiating between the two.

--Cindy

dickbill · 2003-05-10 12:18:15

I cannot challenge Diderot because I don't know (I don't remember is more exact) his writtings, but I think that skepticism is a fundamentally good value in sciences.
If all scientists accepted for granted previous statement written in the rock, science would not exist. So in that context, skepticism seems less a negative thing that Diderot writes.
The 18th century was certainly the time for big questions everywhere in europe, not just in france, but if I had to make a statement, I would say that French are very skeptic people in general, I don't know why's that. The all french society has been shaped by skepticism. It doesn't start with Diderot, but What Diderot complained about exactly ? can you tell us that Cindy ?
I mean, did he "complained" that people were skeptic about religious things, scientific things, political things ?

Josh Cryer · 2003-05-10 12:56:44

Ahh, I agree with dickbill.

But I think that Diderot is just saying that people who are skeptic without thinking are annoying.

Palomar · 2003-05-10 13:46:35

The all french society has been shaped by skepticism. It doesn't start with Diderot, but What Diderot complained about exactly ? can you tell us that Cindy ?
I mean, did he "complained" that people were skeptic about religious things, scientific things, political things ?

*Here is my interpretation of what Diderot is saying:

No matter how much proof can be claimed as evidence for a truth, there will always be disagreements between people (no matter how well informed) regardless -- because perceptions and interpretations can, and do, differ.

I don't believe he is complaining that people are skeptical. I think he is encouraging his readers to have patience with other people, and toleration for differing viewpoints.

By "Skepticism is not suited to everyone", I believe he means (based on the context of the paragraph) that many people (yes, myself included) have a tendency to make quick judgments and can be inclined towards dogmatic thinking; and that true skepticism -avoids- judgments and dogmaticism. He's encouraging his readers to avoid jumping to quick judgments and to avoid dogmaticism.

Again, just my interpretation.

--Cindy

dickbill · 2003-05-10 15:27:07

I don't believe he is complaining that people are skeptical.

I think the 18 century was a time where people dared to rebel openly against the church spiritual "imperialism", against the nobility political dominance and also for the scientist it was a time of great creativity, Newton in England and Darwin latter, Pascal, Euler Cuvier Lamarck Lavoisier etc, in France. Really a great period in all point of view. In all those fields, I don't feel such creativity now.
For example, the DNA revolution is not a conceptual change as big as the theory of Evolution, IMO. In 2003, no biologist is still able to give a clear definition of life, at least not me.

Palomar · 2003-05-10 17:56:58

DB: "I think the 18 century was a time where people dared to rebel openly against the church spiritual "imperialism", against the nobility political dominance and also for the scientist it was a time of great creativity,"

*Yes, it was. A tremendous upsurge -- a blossoming -- of creativity, progress, etc. It was a very energetic time; an author of one of my books called it "endlessly fascinating"...and it is. Will & Ariel Durant, who wrote "The Story of Civilization" series of historical books, referred to one of Voltaire's books as "still warm with the love of liberty," etc. Apparently they felt what I and others have felt, who study the 18th Century indepth: You can literally feel the warmth, the liveliness, the high energy of that time poring out from the pages of the books -- a very rich "afterglow" which I doubt (and hope) will never die.

DB: "Newton in England and Darwin latter,"

*Actually Newton did most of his groundbreaking work in the 17th century (although he lived into the first 2 decades of the 18th century) and Darwin was 19th century.

--Cindy

Shaun Barrett · 2003-05-11 18:10:37

I am largely ignorant of the works of the 18th century philosophers and, therefore, owe Cindy a vote of thanks for her tireless efforts here to drag some of us into some semblance of enlightenment!
That passage by Diderot cuts to the chase in a great deal of what ails humanity. So much of the hostility between groups of people with differing opinions stems from a dogmatic adherence to certain tenets, as though that is the only interpretation that can be placed upon the information available to us. Diderot shows his disdain for ignorance while expressing an almost anguished frustration that even those who give deep and informed consideration to a certain matter can come to different conclusions than others of equal sincerity. This is an incisive evaluation of the limits of the human intellect in deriving truth from our flawed perception of the world around us.
What compounds these difficulties, in my experience, is the tendency for people to become intoxicated by the actual defense of a point of view; defending the position, even going to ludicrous lengths to do so, becomes more important than the position itself. A kind of primitive competitive instinct seems to take precedence over reason. In the end, an intelligent discussion degenerates into puerile point-scoring and insults.
We all need to think long and hard about what Diderot is telling us here. If we are to advance as a species, we have to understand the fragility of our own perceptions and listen to the opinions of others. We have to discipline ourselves to enter any debate with the intention of learning from others, not with the intention of teaching them. We really have to treat our opinion as the scientist treats a hypothesis; it must be a malleable thing, amenable to modification or even demolition in the face of contrary evidence.
Unless we do, I believe our progress as a species will be seriously impaired, as disagreements turn to prideful animosity and animosity turns to violence. And we all know, only too well, where that road can lead.

It's not hard to see why Cindy finds 18th century philosophers so absorbing; human beings haven't changed much since the 1700s, so the observations of people like Diderot and Voltaire are just as 'here and now' as ever they were. They should probably be made compulsory reading in high schools everywhere.
Thanks again, Cindy, for your 'labour of love'! (As I describe this thread.)

nirgal · 2003-05-11 18:46:08

I second that. That paragraph by Diderot has wetted my appetite; I'll start reading the entire thread right now.

Palomar · 2003-05-11 20:13:40

*Thanks Shaun and Nirgal.

--Cindy

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ageofvoltaire

Palomar · 2003-05-18 19:05:44

*Posted by me today to my mailing list:

I've just read (will summarize) in _Tom Paine: America's Godfather_
by Mr. Woodward, the very bad state of the Colonial Army immediately
following the Battle of Bunker Hill.

Mr. Woodward tells us that the army was nearly out of gunpowder;
that, if the British had known this, they could have marched from
Massachusetts to Georgia without encountering much resistence.
Also, guns were in very short supply. Most were made by local
blacksmiths -- who, of course, could only produce so many at a time
(and those of differing calibers and weights -- another problem).
Another difficulty was the *type* of gun available; most were not
military muskets but rather light-weight shotguns, used for shooting
birds and small game and not suitable for warfare.

The French had been smarting after the outcome of the Seven Year's
War with England. They (the French) had secret agents situated in
Boston, New York, Philadelphia and Charleston. The powerbrokers at
Versailles were happy to hear of the revolt of the American Colonies;
they wanted revenge on England. The secret agents reported to
Versailles that the Colonial Army lacked guns, ammunition, shoes and
clothing. Mr. Woodward believes the aristocratic advisors to the
King did not assist the American Colonial Army for the purposes of
liberty, human rights and et cetera -- but rather to extract revenge
on England and create trouble for her.

King Louis XVI and his advisors agreed to send aid to the Colonies.
Of course, they could not act directly; England would find them out
in a heartbeat. They hired an agent (who worked on a commission of 10%)
who would create a "false front" for the French government, which entailed
doing the government's work under the guise of *private enterprise.*

Their agent created "Rodrigue Hortalez & Company", which was the
false organ through which the French government sent supplies, clothing,
muskets, ammunition, et cetera, to the Colonies. The Secret Council of the
Continental Congress was told by the agent that no pay was expected for the goods provided. King Louis XVI and the King of Spain each donated from their national treasuries 1 million livres.

*Who* was the agent running the false "Rodrigue Hortalez & Company"?

Beaumarchais. The man who also wrote the highly successful
plays "Figaro" and "Barbier of Seville"!

Mr. Woodward speculates that Beaumarchais was chosen, not only
because he was an adventuresome type (to put it mildly), but also
because he had no connections of power and wealth; simply a few
acquaintances with a few nobles, who probably wouldn't have bothered
to save his hide if he got into trouble. Because of this, he would
serve as the perfect "fall guy"; if England got too hot under the
collar about military supplies being sent to the Colonies from France
by this "private business concern," they could be appeased by tossing
the "offender" (Beaumarchais) into prison and no one important would
bother to lift a finger helping him; his family could not be of
assistance if that should happen, as they were laborers.

Very interesting.

--Cindy

dickbill · 2003-05-18 21:04:06

very interesting indeed, and very well "a propos"...

Palomar · 2003-05-24 16:01:18

*Posted months ago by me at my private mailing list. This is NOT copyrighted material (direct quote from a letter of Franklin's)

::Something of My Religion::

[Preface: Benjamin Franklin's personal creed seems quite close to Jefferson's, as he outlines it in this letter of 1790 to Ezra Stiles, fellow member of the American Philosophical Society and president of Yale College]

"Reverend and Dear Sir,

You desire to know something of my Religion. It is the first time I
have been questioned upon it. But I cannot take your curiosity
amiss, and shall endeavor in a few words to gratify it. Here is my
creed. I believe in one God, Creator of the universe. That he
governs it by his Providence. That he ought to be worshipped. That
the most acceptable serve we render to him is doing good to his other
children. That the soul of Man is immortal, and will be treated with
justice in another life respecting its conduct in this. These I take
to be the fundamental principles of all sound religion, and I regard
them as you do in whatever sect I meet with them.

As to Jesus of Nazareth, my opinion of whom you particularly desire,
I think the system of morals and his religion, as he left them to us,
the best the world ever saw or is likely to see; but I apprehend it
has received various corrupting changes, and I have, with most of the
present dissenters in England, some doubts as to his divinity; though
it is a question I do not dogmatize upon, having never studied it,
and think it needless to busy myself with now, when I expect soon an
opportunity of knowing the truth with less trouble. I see no harm,
however, in its being believed, if that belief has the good
consequence, as probably it has, of making his doctrines more
respected and better observed; especially as I do not perceive that
the Supreme takes it amiss, by distinguishing the unbelievers in his
government of the world with any peculiar marks of his displeasure.

I shall only add, respecting myself, that, having experienced the
goodness of that Being in conducting me prosperously through a long
life, I have no doubt of its continuance in the next, though without
the smallest conceit of meriting such goodness. My sentiments on
this head you will see in the copy of an old letter enclosed [not
included in the book I'm quoting from, unfortunately], which I wrote
in answer to one from a zealous religionist, whom I had relieved in a
paralytic case by electricity [does anyone know what case this is
that Franklin refers to? Sounds interesting], and who, being afraid
I should grow proud upon it, sent me his serious though rather
impertinent caution...

...with great and sincere esteem and affection, I am, Your obliged
old friend and most obedient humble servant,

B. Franklin"

Alexander Sheppard · 2003-05-27 12:46:58

I'm not really sure what my favorite science fiction movie is ; but the Matrix ranks pretty high up. Here I'm going to discuss it a bit.

I liked the Matrix because of the metaphors involved, I thought you can relate to the society in which we live. There are all kinds of things in our society which are just taboo to realize, even though they're the obvious truth if you look at the facts. Realizing them is contrary to what you're supposed to do, what the system of control and the people who run it want. There are consequences for doing so.

So Neo gets lectured by the corporate executive. That's deeply symbolic right there, I think. Freeing people from the Matrix, that's a metaphor for showing people the truth, a truth that the authorities don't want people knowing about. Why not? Because then they'll lose their power and control and priviledge over others. In the Matrix, the machines lose their cheap power source. The machines are ruthless, indeed, kind of like rulers. And the woman in the red dress? That's distraction which is placed in people's path to make sure they don't really concentrate on the truth. There are all sorts of little metaphors put into the picture like that. It really is brilliant in my opinion. It's a general statement about brainwashing and submission to authority.

But the Matrix Reloaded was rather stupid, IMO.

Shaun Barrett · 2003-05-28 01:11:36

Another fascinating post, Cindy. Thank you.
As it happens, my view of religion is quite similar to that of Ben Franklin, though I envy him his absolute faith in a Supreme Being. Some days I find it difficult to muster that much belief and wonder whether we might just be a pointless quirk in a pointless universe after all! But, on the whole, and without a shred of hard evidence, I do happen to believe there's an intelligence behind it all; I can't really conceive of it being otherwise. (A limitation of my intellect, perhaps.)
I think the teachings of Jesus are important and the world would be a better place if everyone tried to live by them. But, taking Franklin's doubts further, there is no doubt in my mind that Jesus was not God. His message has indeed "received various corrupting changes", to put it very mildly. I and others go as far as to say christianity, in its popular form today, is almost entirely the creation of St. Paul and a group of people who congregated in the 4th century (the name of the congress escapes me for now) to create the impression that Jesus was divine. All writings to the contrary were edited out of the scriptures at that point and the basics of today's bible were thus created.
There were various genuinely christian groups, most notably in the south of France, who did not hold that Jesus was necessarily divine, who believed one does not need the intercession of Jesus to speak to God, and who despised the wealth, grandeur and corruption of the "Holy Mother Church". Branded heretics, these groups were mercilessly hounded into extinction by the church in a series of the cruellest and bloodiest purges in human history. So much for 'turn the other cheek' and 'love thy neighbour as thyself'!!
If Jesus himself could see the perversion that his teachings have become, if he could see that he has become confused with God by so many as a result of it, he would be absolutely mortified at what he would see as the ultimate blasphemy. Of that, I have no doubt at all.

I really don't know why I wrote all this! Please forgive my self-indulgence. I guess it was just that Benjamin Franklin's letter struck such a chord with me.
I think I might have enjoyed his company very much.

Thanks again, Cindy.

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