perpetua et firma libertas (12. 054)

Created by dint of a cartographical error in redrawing the border between the Papal States and the Republic of Florence (heavily in debt, Pope Eugene IV ceded Borgo Sansepolcro in the north to the Grand Duke), unexpectedly creating a terra nullius of around three square kilometres in 1440, by using a creek called rio as the new line of demarcation. The generic name for “river,” negotiators realised that they had picked two different ruscelli about five hundred metres apart, and thinking it was not worth the effort to redraw an already complicated boundary (see also) and with neither party having an objection to a buffer state in between them, the independent Republic of Cospaia came into existence. Without taxes, customs, or a government (to speak of, or the need for one), the tiny repubblica flourished as a free-trade zone between the temporal and secular powers but really became much more than a mapping mistake about a century later with the introduction of tobacco to the Old World and a ban on smoking by the Vatican (Benedict XIII eventually relented in 1724 and stopped excommunicating smokers). Though without much land to spare, Cospaia devoted its entire agricultural efforts to growing the crop, which neighbours permitted as leverage against harbouring fugitives and more serious contraband. As with many microstates, the Republic came to an end with the Napoleonic Wars and was re-annexed by the Papal States in agreement with the Duchy of Tuscany after nearly four centuries in 1826, but as compensation each resident was given a silver sovereign by the pope and a continued monopoly on tobacco production, which expanded to the whole valley. The village is still associated with cigars and cigarettes and is allowed to fly its historic flag.

synchonoptica

one year ago: neglected books (with synchronoptica), an AI identifier plus Henry Ford’s peace mission (1915)

seven years ago: a White House dinner, school meals plus toe names

eight years ago: more trials with Universal Basic Income plus How I Built This

nine years ago: rallying against global warming plus assorted links worth revisiting

ten years ago: Herostratic Fame plus Victorian microscopic pictures

the way of fragrance (12. 053)

Via tmn, we learn about the broader tradition of kōdō (香道, see previously), the art of incense appreciation through the parlour game called Genji-kō (源氏香) a pastime cultivated originally to demonstrate refinement and discerning sense of smell—sort of like the story of the Princess and the Pea—where the object was not to just identify a scent but to distinguish from a sampling of five which are the same and which are different and can be in any combination. Players of this palette-cleansing challenge which can border on the fiendish record their answers with a special notation, vertical lines representing the five scents and group them with a bar. The geometric patterns are a popular decorative motiff for kimono, pottery and lacquerware. Inspired by an incense party that takes place in the literary classic The Tale of the Genji, a skilled host will try to reference the current season and recent events in the solution. Much more at the links above.

dies iræ, dies illa (12. 052)

Fêted on this day in the Roman and Eastern Orthodox calendar of saints, Zephaniah (Σοφονίας, צְפַנְיָה, Concealed is god) was a priest of the Temple of Solomon during the reign of Josiah (circa 640 to 609 BC) counted among the Twelve Minor Prophets and credited as forecasting the coming of the Messiah, during a time when worship of other deities was popular and widespread, especially that of Baal and Astarte. The incipit of his book that warns of corruption and the imminent destruction of Jerusalem for its moral degeneration for its religious waywardness is the origin of the setting for the liturgical hymn as the sequence from the Requiem Mass—translated in the Vulgate edition of the Bible, “Day of wrath and doom impending!”

creative commons (12. 051)

Leading up to Public Domain Day in the United States (see previously) and other jurisdictions, Boing Boing is putting together a virtual Advents Calendar showcasing each significant work of literature, cinema and visual art whose copyrights expire 1 January 2025, protections terminate typically in America and the European Union (with some notable exceptions) seventy years after the calendar year when the author died—post mortem auctoris. Among those properties that become free to use however one sees fit include the pictured Chop Suey by Edward Hopper and Magritte’s The Treachery of Images, as well as writings from Virginia Woolf, Wittgenstein, Bertrand Russell, Erich Maria Remarque and Ernest Hemingway.

 synchronoptica

one year ago: the OED’s WoTY shortlist (with synchronoptica), assorted links to revisit, A Streetcar Named Desire (1947) plus Winchester Cathedral (1966)

seven years ago: a collection of UK WWII propaganda posters

eight years ago: Ancient Lights, more links to enjoy, Belgian brewing traditions added to UNESCO registry plus Vantablack

nine years ago: Vienna’s Schönbrunn palace

ten years ago: searching for Krampus, more unbuilt architecture, a pre-crime pilot, Alfred the Great plus the Carolinian dynasty

eleven years ago: launch codes and the Nuclear Football 

merriam-webster defines (12. 050)

The lexicographers present another treasury of obscure words whose utility is delightfully questionable in many cases and at times borders on the linguistic equivalent of unuselessness. There were classics ultracrepidarian—opining or operating outside one’s scope of practice, and the derived terms serendipitist and anecdotage but moreover a lot of choice vocabulary that was new to us, like novercal, pertaining to or characteristic of stepmother (without an equivalent word for stepfathers, the opposite of avuncular, of uncles, with no term for aunts), an amatorcultist, “a little insignificant love—a pretender to affection,” useful to describe one’s worst ex, neighbourstained, hopefully never to be in one’s quiver (see also), backspang, a Scottish term for a loophole that allows one to back out of a deal and antihalian, a humbug, one opposed to festivities. Much more at the links above.

10x10 (12. 049)

strapline: Cory Doctorow’s review of books for 2024  

week-by-week: Tom Whitwell’s gleanings from the past year—see previously—via Kottke 

bad precedent: the power of the pardon was never meant to condone crime 

the birthday paradox: illustrating the veridicality of coincidence—via Quantum of Sollazzo  

a boring roundup: a look at geotechnical investigations and advances in harnessing the Earth’s internal energy  

whamhalla: why Germans love and hate Last Christmas—see also  

the travelling salesman problem: a new Geotripper challenge to find the optimal route to take to a number of cities and return to the point of origin  

press-gang: Moscow authorities raid popular night clubs, seemingly detaining hundreds of men to draft for the war effort 

take time—it’s brief: one hundred superlative photos of the past twelve month—via Memo of the Air  

anthology: Lit Hub’s poetry recommendations for the year

font speciment (12. 048)

A kind of hot metal typesetting used for letterpress printing, the Ludlow Typograph issued a font catalogue in 1958—pictured a gallery of fourth edition scalable patterns to supplement their available collection of typefaces and font families. Metal slugs are cast by the system, melted down and recycled in a cauldron in situ—preferable to some printing operations, as opposed to Linotype, as it was smaller and more affordable and always had fresh matrices for a run without worrying about running out of any given sorts. Though not made since the late 1960s when printing press technologies changed, the company estimates around sixteen thousand models were still in operations around the world, and replacement parts still being produced. See a video of one of the machines at work and many more type samplers at the link above.

synchronoptica

one year ago: a gallery of visual anagrams (with synchronoptica) plus the coronation of Napoleon and Joséphine

seven years ago: alternating tread stairwells plus assorted links to revisit

eight years ago: Basil Brush endangered, rampant post-factual disinformation, hybrid cigarettes plus a plant leverages physics

nine years ago: Kraftwerk in concert

ten years ago: fossilised phrases in English Christmas songs

contingent election (12. 047)

On this day in 1824, the US presidential election whose voting had started back on 26 October between candidates Andrew Jackson, John Quincy Adams, William Crawford and Henry was punted to Congress as no candidate had secured an electoral majority (see previously here and here) under the provisions of Amendment XII to the constitution. The race was called a stalemate—John Caldwell Calhoun (pictured), after failing to secure party support as the presidential nominee agreed to stand for the role of vice president and comfortably won a plurality in the Electoral College—and voting was adjourned until 9 February with each state delegation given one vote for the candidate, to be decided through debate within their caucus. The election cycle of 1800 was also called by the House of Representatives but it was the Three-Fifths Compromise that enabled first Thomas Jefferson and ultimately Andrew Jackson to win, counting enslaved individuals who had no franchise as count as 3/5 of a person for purposes of apportionment of members to congress, based on a state’s population.