Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Plunges into History

by Bathroom Readers' Institute

  Christine Ammer’s book, Fighting Words, explores the linguistic legacy of armed conflicts over the centuries, from biblical times to the present.

  GAS ATTACK

  World War I originated more than vocabulary: gas warfare was first used in WWI with as many as 17 different kinds of gases tried out by both sides. There were three kinds of gases, of which only the lachrymator (tear gases, from the Latin lachrima “tear”) were combatible by gas mask. The other two varieties included asphyxiant, or poisonous, gases such as chlorine, and the dreaded blistering gases, such as mustard gas which produced burns on contact.

  A contemporary news report of the use of poison gas:

  “[The] vapor settled to the ground like a swamp mist and drifted toward the French trenches on a brisk wind. Its effect on the French was a violent nausea and faintness, followed by an utter collapse. [The] Germans, who charged in behind the vapor, met no resistance at all. . ..” New York Tribune, April 27, 1915

  George Washington may have been Father of His Country, but he had no children himself.

  IS THIS THE SMELL OF PROGRESS?

  * * *

  It’s known as “nonlethal weapons development,” but you could say that the U.S. military has been nosing around for the proper bomb since WWII. Here’s the unsavory history behind the making of a stink bomb for the 21st century.

  Patriotic pro-war songs and movies aside, the actual business of making war is dirty indeed, involving blood, guts, and variously nasty forms of death. So it may be a good sign when the military seeks weapons that can disarm enemies rather than kill them. But when it comes to the details—better hold your nose.

  AROMAS TO DIE FOR

  For decades the U.S. military has conducted tests on nonlethal weapons. They’ve tried the subsonic sound blasters that can make enemies too nauseous to fight, and an amazing variety of deterrent sprays that make the ground too slippery to drive on, or can obscure the windows on a tank. But some of the oddest weapons center on the good old nose. The Odorous Substances Project of the Joint Nonlethal Weapons Directorate has been hard at work creating a stink bomb for the 21st century nose.

  A ROTTEN IDEA

  A chemical that smells like a ripe corpse, rotten eggs, or human feces seems to deserve its place in weaponry—would you want to spend a lot of time by an open sewer? Chemical stinks were tried by the military during World War II, particularly a substance known as “Who Me” designed by the French Resistance. Who Me, a sulphurous compound reminiscent of rotting flesh, was loaded into a pocket-sized atomizer. The idea was for Who Me carriers to casually brush by one of the German officers occupying Paris, spray him with the substance and render him unfit for duty until the smell wore off, which could take days or even weeks of careful scrubbing.

  Before the Boston Tea Party, the British actually lowered tea taxes, not raised them.

  STINKS THAT BOMBED

  Who Me, however, didn’t provide much help to occupied Paris—the atomized Who Me mist had a tendency to share the wealth, dousing the sprayer with as liberal a dose of unholy stink as the sprayee. The U.S. military was still intrigued enough to perform experiments with Who Me, hoping to douse double agents. The U.S. developed another chemical compound intended to make Japanese soldiers reek of sweaty armpits to exploit the Japanese repugnance for body odors, but they faced the same difficulties in applying the substance accurately.

  THREE STINKS, YOU’RE OUT!

  Since the last World War the U.S. military has tried out various stink bomb projects, generally rejecting them as just too difficult to administer. Back in the 1970s, for instance, the army tried draining chicken eggs, filling them with stinky chemicals and lobbing them at enlisted men to test the effects. (Service above and beyond the call of duty.) That project never really got off the ground, but as warfare has advanced and public criticism about limiting necessary force has grown, the military has began examining the science of stink anew.

  NOSING OUT THE ENEMY

  Just what smells are foul enough to convince an enemy to drop his gun and run like hell? That’s what scientist Pam Dalton at the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia intends to find out, thanks to the U.S. military subsidy that funds her work. Dalton has found that few odors are universally offensive. After all, though the smell of manure might offend an American suburbanite, a rural Japanese person used to the odors drifting over from fertilized farms would be much less horrified.

  POT SHOTS

  Extensive testing has proved that the most universally reviled substances are good old Who Me, and a substance known in the fragrance/deodorizer industry as U.S. Government Bathroom Malodor. Bathroom Malodor is the standard stinky scent used for testing air-freshener products. Although the aromas are vile, they aren’t ready for the battlefield. The same old problem of creating better delivery systems may take some time. Scientists may tell us that stink bombs are coming soon—but don’t hold your breath.

  New Englanders so opposed the War of 1812 that many wanted to secede.

  MESMERIZED

  * * *

  His name is linked with hypnotism, but in fact he never hypnotized anybody. What did Franz Anton Mesmer do to deserve such an honor?

  Franz Mesmer was a kind of astrological psychotherapist and scientific faith healer all rolled into one. He was operating out of Vienna when he came to the notice of the Imperial Morality Police there (yes, there was such an organization). Someone had reported him after observing that young girls who entered his house didn’t come out for a long time—like days and weeks! Mesmer claimed that the girls suffered from various nervous conditions and he’d moved them into his house for treatment, which involved him massaging them all over. Hmm. The cure that made him famous involved a blind girl who said she was cured after a few days of this rubbing stuff, but in the 1760s, just like today, this sort of thing was looked at askance. So when the medical profession of Vienna ganged up on him and denounced his treatments as quackery, he packed up and headed for Paris.

  ANIMAL MAGNETISM 101

  Mesmer claimed that illness was caused by blockages in the body—and he was one of the few people who knew how to remove them. The whole universe was full of an invisible energy, which he called “animal magnetism,” and it was controlled by the movements of the stars and planets. By “magnetizing” his clients, that is, rubbing them, he could dislodge that nasty blockage and—voila!—the patient would be cured.

  A MAGNETIC PERSONALITY

  As he got more popular, more people wanted to see him. He didn’t have enough time (or hands), so he started magnetizing whole crowds at once. He even invented a contraption, a wooden tub of water with metal rods attached, so that one group could gather around it holding onto the metal rods and transfer their magnetism to the water. Then he would spray the water over the rest of the onlookers with a hose and tell them they were cured. He “magnetized” trees, too. Then he’d hang ropes from them. His patients touched the ropes and the miracle energy would flood through them. Mesmer claimed that this channeling of energy also explained psychic phenomena like telepathy, clairvoyance, and the ability to see the future.

  Queen Elizabeth’s “last name” is Mountbatten-Windsor.

  THE TOAST OF PARIS GETS BURNED

  Eighteenth-century Paris went wild for Mesmer, and King Louis XVI was one of his biggest fans—for a while. The king offered Mesmer a pension for life, on one condition: Mesmer had to submit his work to scientific investigation. Mesmer said merci, but no thanks. The king, being a king, appointed a royal commission to investigate Mesmer’s claims in 1784. The commission gathered the greatest scientists in Paris, among them Benjamin Franklin, as an expert on electricity (and then American ambassador to France); Antoine Lavoisier, the father of modern chemistry; and Dr. Joseph Guillotin, inventor of the guillotine. The commission concluded that Mesmer was a fraud. Some people seemed to have been cured, they admitted, but there was no truth in what Mesmer had to say about scientific astrology, trees, ropes, tubs of water, and the
rest. Animal magnetism was nothing but a hoax.

  Mesmer knew he was beaten. He left France and the mesmerizing business for good and settled in Austria. While he was enjoying a life of quiet retirement, the French were killing people left and right, including Mesmer’s old friends and enemies: King Louis, Marie Antoinette, and Lavoisier all died by the guillotine.

  GETTING “PUYSGURIZED”

  In 1789, the year the revolution began, one of Mesmer’s disciples, the Marquis de Puysgur, was applying the Mesmer method of “animal magnetism” to a young boy. The marquis discovered to his surprise that the boy was in a trance: he would stand, walk, and sit on command. And when he woke, he didn’t remember anything about it. So it’s de Puysgur who really discovered hypnotism. And who can remember him—much less pronounce his name?

  “YOU’RE FEELING SLEEPY. . .”

  Stage illusionists in Europe and America who claimed to be followers of Mesmer quickly added this amazing new trick to their acts. It was so impressive that animal magnetism was all but forgotten—and “mesmerism” and hypnosis became synonymous. Add an attractive female assistant, and you’ve got the forerunner of the classic stage hypnosis acts that are still popular today.

  Until 1946, there was no such thing as a “Canadian citizen,” just “British subjects.”

  SHE WAS ONLY A PHARAOH’S DAUGHTER

  * * *

  . . .but, boy, could she dazzle those hotshot Italian boys.

  TEEN QUEEN

  Cleopatra VII was born in 69 B.C. and died in 30 B.C. When she was 17 or 18, she and her younger brother, Ptolemy XIII, inherited the throne of Egypt on their father’s death. According to custom, they would rule jointly as husband and wife. But in the third year of their reign, Ptolemy, age 15 or so, forced his sister into exile. Determined to regain her throne, Cleopatra gathered an army in Syria, just across Egypt’s border.

  LUST AT FIRST SIGHT

  Debate rages over Cleopatra’s looks: she was either short and ugly, or willowy and beautiful. Either way, she was apparently charming and seductive, and let’s not forget smart. So when Julius Caesar and the Roman army captured Alexandria soon after, Cleopatra sneaked into the city rolled up in an Oriental rug. Once inside the palace, the rug was unrolled and out stepped this Egyptian cutie. Gossip has it that she and Caesar became lovers that very night. Naturally, that put her on his good side. And steamed the heck out of her brother, who had escaped with his army. The six-month Alexandrian War ensued, but nobody was a match for the Roman troops. Ptolemy drowned in the Nile while trying to flee them. It was 48 B.C.; Cleo was twenty-one.

  CRUISIN’

  Caesar restored Cleopatra to the throne, which she now had to share with an even younger brother, Ptolemy XIV. Meanwhile, Caesar and Cleopatra cruised the Nile for two months. After which, Caesar returned to Rome—and his wife, Calpurnia. But he must have missed Cleo, because a year later he invited her to come live in Rome. His fellow Romans were scandalized by their affair, even more so when she gave birth to their son, Caesarion. At any rate, two years after that, when Caesar was assassinated in the Roman senate, Cleopatra grabbed the first train to Egypt. Once back at home, historians say she most likely poisoned her brother-pharaoh and appointed little Caesarion her coregent.

  The French Revolutionary calendar included days called Eggplant, Manure, and Spinach.

  I FEEL LIKE A NEW MAN!

  Caesar was replaced by a triumvirate, consisting of Marcus Lepidus, Gaius Octavian—and Marc Antony. Supposedly for diplomatic purposes, he arranged a meeting with Cleopatra at Tarsus in Asia Minor. Secretly, he wanted to rule Rome solo, and hoped she could fund his ambitions. The meeting gave her an opportunity to make one more dramatic entrance. This time she arrived floating down the river on a golden barge with purple sails. (A little over the top? Read on.) Her maids were dressed as sea nymphs and Cleopatra herself was dressed as Venus, the goddess of love. She reclined under a gold canopy, fanned by boys in Cupid costumes.

  In a few days, she and Marc Antony were lovers. Enthralled, he forgot everything else and stayed the winter in Egypt.

  WHEN IN ROME

  But he had an empire to run and eventually he returned to Rome. Six months later, Cleopatra gave birth to twins, naming the girl Cleopatra Selene and the boy Alexander Helios. It was four years before she saw Antony again. And he’d married in the meantime. His new wife was Octavia, half-sister of Gaius Octavian—a politically advantageous match, but Antony’s heart still belonged to the Egyptian queen.

  A NEW RENDEZVOUS

  In 37 B.C., Antony couldn’t stand it anymore. He left his Roman wife, came back to Egypt to stay, and married Cleopatra. Soon they had another child—a son, Ptolemy Philadelphaos. Meanwhile, Antony’s brother-in-law Octavian plotted against them. When Antony gave Cleopatra Cyprus, Crete, and Syria (what a lovely present, but how did he wrap it?), and gave their children huge tracts of land that used to belong to Alexander the Great, Octavian had proof that Antony was wrapped around Cleo’s little finger and posed a threat to Rome. Rome declared war on Egypt and sent a fleet to fight Antony and Cleopatra’s combined forces.

  Canadian Indians couldn’t vote in national elections until 1960.

  CLEO WIMPS OUT

  Antony’s forces were no match for the Roman Navy. Cleo had 60 ships of her own, but she knew when she was outclassed militarily. So she fled the scene while Rome crushed Antony’s forces at the Battle of Actium in 31 B.C. Antony only made it worse by abandoning his men to follow her. The Romans saw it as proof that he was enslaved by love. The plucky Cleopatra prepared for an invasion by Rome, while Antony sulked and brooded.

  CLEO WIMPS OUT AGAIN

  Maybe if he’d spent more time paying attention to his troops, his navy and his cavalry wouldn’t have deserted him, which they did. When his infantry fell to Octavian’s troops, Antony returned to Alexandria, looking for Cleopatra, shouting that she’d betrayed him. Terrified, the queen of Egypt hid out and ordered her servants to tell Antony she was dead.

  ALL IS LOST

  Even if you don’t know how the story ends, you must be getting that “tragic ending” feeling. Okay, so here goes. Antony stabbed himself, but he didn’t quite finish the job, so when the news arrived that Cleopatra was still alive, he had himself carried to see her. He died in her arms. Tragic enough? Wait.

  Cleopatra knew that Octavian planned to drag her back to Rome so he could march her through the city in chains. No way would she let that happen. So she planned a feast, her last meal, and had an asp (a poisonous snake) smuggled into her quarters in a basket of figs.

  Octavian found her later, dead.

  THE LAST OF THE RED-HOT PHARAOHS

  Her dazzling days were done. Cleopatra was Egypt’s last pharaoh; after her death, Egypt became a Roman province. More tragedy: Because Caesarion was Julius Caesar’s son and might pose a threat to Octavian’s power, Octavian had the boy murdered. Cleopatra’s surviving three children were sent to Rome to be raised by Octavia. Her daughter, Cleopatra Selene, married the king of Mauretania and had two children. Some sources say Alexander and Ptolemy went to Mauretania with their sister, but there isn’t substantial evidence to say for sure.

  Of the 17 million military casualties during World War II, 7.5 million were from the U.S.S.R.

  THE REAL COUNT DRACULA

  * * *

  He was a prince, not a count. He didn’t live in Transylvania, but he was born there. He didn’t have to be home in his coffin at sundown, but he was still a pretty scary guy. They called him “Vlad the Impaler” because. . .well. . .he liked impaling people.

  Bram Stoker was going to call his book Wampyr, which means “vampire” in Romanian, but while he was doing research he came across a 15th-century prince named Vlad the Impaler, who called himself “Dracula.” First published in 1897, Dracula has never been out of print. But the book didn’t achieve worldwide recognition until the release of the first movies about the count, especially Dracula, the 1931 version starring Bela Lugosi.
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br />   ENTER THE DRAGON

  The real Dracula’s ancestors were warlord princes of Wallachia, a principality in what is now Romania. Dracula’s father, Basarab, was in line for the throne, but there were a lot of relatives in the way. So for the moment, Basarab had to settle for the post of governor of Transylvania. In 1431 he was inducted as a knight into the Royal Order of the Dragon. He started calling himself the Dragon, which in Romanian is Dracul. His second son, Vlad, was born a few months later, and the little tyke was nicknamed “Dracula,” which means son of the dragon.

  THE LITTLE PRINCE

  Vlad was born into a world of nonstop intrigues, power struggles, and war. When he was about three years old, his father, the Dragon, seized the throne of Wallachia after defeating one of his cousins. Now little Vlad was a true prince. His father made pint-sized warriors of Dracula and his two brothers. The boys learned the medieval martial arts—archery, swordsmanship, and riding—while wearing little chain-mail suits just like their pop. Vlad might have grown into a Prince Charming, but his father made one fatal mistake that changed Vlad’s life forever.