Prospect

In Eric Cross’ 1942 book The Tailor and Ansty, Irish tailor and storyteller Timothy Buckley recounts the wisdom held by the old Irish, before “the people got too bloodyful smart and educated, and let the government or anyone else do their thinking for them.” They had a way of reckoning time that advances from the lifespan of a rail, a type of small bird, to the age of the world:

A hound outlives three rails.
A horse outlives three hounds.
A jock outlives three horses.
A deer outlives three jocks.
An eagle outlives three deer.
A yew-tree outlives three eagles.
An old ridge in the ground outlives three yew-trees.
Three times the time that the sign of a ridge will be seen in the ground will be as long as from the beginning to the end of the world.

“The tailor is wildly off,” notes philosopher Robert P. Crease, “in his estimate of the age of the universe, which is unlikely to be (lifetime of the rail) × 38. Still, his point is well made that the old Irish unit system may possess certain superiorities to ours in that it was ‘reckoned on the things a man could see about him, so that, wherever he was, he had an almanac.'”

01/31/2025 UPDATE: Reader Edward White writes:

There is actually a similar calculation found in the Cosmati Pavement, in Westminster Abbey: The inscription reads

If the reader wisely considers all that is laid down, he will find here the end of the primum mobile; a hedge (lives for) three years, add dogs and horses and men, stags and ravens, eagles, enormous whales, the world: each one following triples the years of the one before.

In other words the calculation is:

A hedge lives 3 years
A dog lives for 3 hedges (i.e. 9 years)
A man lives for 3 dogs (i.e. 27 years)
A stag lives for 3 men (i.e. 81 years)
A raven lives for 3 stags (i.e. 243 years)
An eagle lives 3 ravens (i.e. 729 years)
A whale lives 3 eagles (i.e. 2187 years)
And the world lives 3 whales (6561 years)

This is the same as the Irish peasant’s calculation, in that it involves 8 rounds of tripling, but it has different terms. Schott’s Quintessential Miscellany (Bloomsbury, 2011) has a similar list of calculations on page 104. They are quoted below in full:

Flemish folklore gave this estimate of animal life-spans, premised upon the belief that a town (or enclosure) lasted just three years:

A TOWN lives three YEARS,
A DOG lives three TOWNS,
A HORSE lives three DOGS
A MAN lives three HORSES,
An ASS lives three MEN,
A WILD GOOSE lives three ASSES,
A CROW lives three WILD GEESE,
A STAG lives three CROWS
A RAVEN lives three STAGS
& the PHOENIX lives three RAVENS

A German equivalent has it:

A FENCE lasts three YEARS;
A DOG lasts three FENCES;
A HORSE lasts three DOGS;
And a MAN three HORSES.

Hesiod (fl.c 8th BC) wrote:

The NOISY CROW lives nine generations of MEN who die in the bloom of years; the STAG attains the age of four CROWS; the RAVEN, in its turn, equals three STAGS in length of days; while the PHOENIX lives nine RAVENS. We nymphs, fair-of-tresses, daughters of Jove the aegis-bearer, attain to the age of ten PHOENIXES.

And, Italian folklore maintained:

A DOG lasts 9 years;
A HORSE lasts 3 DOGS: 27 years;
A MAN lasts 3 HORSES: 81 years;
A CROW lasts 3 MEN: 243 years;
A DEER lasts 3 CROWS: 729 years;
An OAK lasts 3 DEER: 2,187 years.

The principle was evidently very widespread across Europe.

[Here’s another translation of the Hesiod, this from Plutarch:

A screaming crow lives for nine generations
of men who have reached puberty; a deer is four crows;
the raven grows old at three deer; then the phoenix at nine ravens; and we at ten phoenixes,
we beautiful-haired nymphs, daughters of aegis-holding Zeus.]

(Thanks, Edward.)

“Prepopr Splelnig”

In 1999, a letter in New Scientist noted that randomizing letters in the middle of words has little or no effect on readers’ ability to understand text. Noam D. Plum responded with a poem:

The suggetsoin taht chrilden slhuod laern how to sepll
Is a tmie-watse we ohgut to rjeect.
Sicne a jlumbe of leertts raeds pertlecfy wlel
If the frist and the lsat are crrocet.

Wehn an edtoir grembuls, “Yuor seplinlg is ntus!”
Wtih cntoempt he can braley cocneal,
Trehe is no cuase to flcnih; mkae no ifs adns or btus;
Say, “I’ts radnom, sir. Wa’hts the big dael?”

In tihs fsat-minvog wrold, waht we raed dseon’t sictk.
Olny vrey few deliats get strsseed.
If i’ts frsit or it’s lsat we may glncae at it qucik.
Woh’s got tmie to be raenidg the rset?

(Noam D. Plum, “Prepopr Splelnig,” Verbatim 32:1 [Spring 2008], 15. See Half Measures.)

Pigs Penned

In 1899 the Strand invited 13 British celebrities to draw a pig with their eyes closed.

Field Marshal Frederick Sleigh Roberts:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Judge Sir Francis Jeune:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Mary Jeune, Baroness St Helier:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Hugh Jermyn, Bishop of Brechin:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Astronomer Sir Robert Ball:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Chemist William Ramsay:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Stage actor Henry Irving:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Illustrator Sir John Tenniel:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Novelist Walter Besant:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Organist Sir Frederick Bridge:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Inventor Hiram Maxim:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

Magician Nevil Maskelyne:

https://archive.org/details/strand-1899-v-17/page/337/mode/2up?view=theater

(Illustrator Harry Furniss says the trick is to use your free hand as a guide.)

Self-Destruction

pauly selfmate

This chess problem, from Wolfgang Pauly’s 1912 Theory of Pawn Promotion, is a selfmate in two: How can White force Black to deliver checkmate within two moves, despite Black’s best effort to avoid doing so? White moves first.

Click for Answer

Chronicle

I take delight in history, even its most prosaic details, because they become poetical as they recede into the past. The poetry of history lies in the quasi-miraculous fact that once, on this earth, once, on this familiar spot of ground, walked other men and women, as actual as we are to-day, thinking their own thoughts, swayed by their own passions, but now all gone, one generation vanishing after another, gone as utterly as we ourselves shall shortly be gone like a ghost at cock-crow. This is the most familiar and certain fact about life, but it is also the most poetical, and the knowledge of it has never ceased to entrance me, and to throw a halo of poetry round the dustiest record that Dryasdust can bring to light.

— G.M. Trevelyan, Autobiography and Other Essays, 1949

Chesterton’s Fence

In the matter of reforming things, as distinct from deforming them, there is one plain and simple principle; a principle which will probably be called a paradox. There exists in such a case a certain institution or law; let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, ‘I don’t see the use of this; let us clear it away.’ To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: ‘If you don’t see the use of it, I certainly won’t let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it.’

— G.K. Chesterton, The Thing: Why I Am a Catholic, 1929

Field Notes

Two perceptive entries from the journals of English naturalist Gilbert White:

“December 4, 1770 – Most owls seem to hoot exactly in B flat according to several pitch-pipes used in tuning of harpsichords, & sold as strictly at concert pitch.”

“February 8, 1782 – Venus shadows very strongly, showing the bars of the windows on the floors & walls.”

Between these he makes what may be the earliest written use of the word golly, in 1775.