Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Plunges into History

by Bathroom Readers' Institute

  The Spanish-American War, by contrast, was a slam dunk. We lost more people fighting the Filipinos, who apparently didn’t much cotton to the Americans buying their country for a lousy $20 million, than we did fighting the Spanish. (What? You don’t remember the Phillipine-American War, which lasted three years and cost 4,200 American lives? Funny about that.)

  Since 1898, we’ve participated in other lopsided wars, of course, most recently that one in the Persian Gulf, where the casualty ratio between Them and Us was something on the order of 100 to 1. But in those wars, we had help, and we didn’t come away with any real estate to speak of—real estate being, of course, the gold standard in war gains.

  “To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.”

  The Art of War by Sun-Tzu

  Now an art gallery, the Louvre used to be a royal palace.

  THE CRUSADER FOLLIES

  * * *

  After capturing Jerusalem at the end of the First Crusade (1096–1099), the question became how long the new Christian Kingdom of Jerusalem would last.

  While the leaders of the First Crusade were back in Europe triumphantly showing off their captured religious relics, the Muslims in the Holy Land were winning battles and slowly taking their lands back from the crusaders who’d been left behind. The crusaders still held Jerusalem, but the loss of other lands was beginning to cause serious concern.

  ST. BERNARD TO THE RESCUE

  In response, a Second Crusade was organized in 1147, inspired by the preaching of the silver-tongued St. Bernard of Clairvaux, the leading figure in the western Church (but not the St. Bernard the dog is named for).

  So with high hopes for a great, glorious victory over the Muslims (also called Saracens), King Louis VII of France (with a force of 15,000 men) and King Conrad III of Germany (20,000 men) set out for the Holy Land. Both were crackerjack administrators, but unfortunately, they had very little idea what they were doing when it came to running military campaigns in foreign lands. (Uh-oh.)

  EASY PICKIN’S FOR THE GERMANS

  The French took a leisurely pace, so the Germans were the first to arrive in the Constantinople metropolitan area where they took what they wanted from the locals, their fellow (though Greek Orthodox) Christians, without paying. Whole villages packed up their possessions and moved out of the way of Conrad’s army rather than risk losing everything.

  The Three Magi are said to be interred in a cathedral in Cologne, Germany.

  CONRAD THE CLUELESS

  By the time Louis and his slowpokes reached Constantinople, the Germans had already crossed the Bosphorus strait into Asia Minor. The Byzantine Emperor Manuel had advised Conrad to hug the coast, so the Byzantine fleet could provide them with supplies as they marched. But the emperor’s advice was ignored. Instead, Conrad decided to take his army right through the heart of Asia Minor—home turf for the Turks. He couldn’t possibly have made a worse choice.

  EASY PICKIN’S FOR THE TURKS

  Constantly harassed by Turks, hungry, exhausted, and very thirsty, Conrad’s men finally found a small stream that must have looked like an oasis. Actually, it was more like a trap. Without any semblance of discipline, the Germans broke ranks and ran toward the stream. Waiting for them there was a large Turkish force who knew a good opportunity when Allah presented it to them. They swarmed all over the hapless Germans who, in their disorganized state, never really stood a chance. Conrad’s army was cut to pieces, nine out of every ten men lost. Conrad himself barely managed to escape with his life.

  CRUSADING ISN’T EASY

  King Louis, along with the pathetic remnants of the German force, took Emperor Manuel’s advice and wisely stuck to the coast of Asia Minor as he marched south toward Palestine. Still, his army had to endure the hardships of a rugged mountain crossing and repeated attacks by the Turks. By the time the crusaders reached Antioch—which, like Jerusalem, was still in Christian hands—their numbers had been cut in half.

  I’LL TAKE DAMASCUS

  They set off for Damascus in July of 1148. The leaders of the Crusade—which now included Louis, Conrad, and the ruler of the Christian-held sections of Palestine, King Baldwin III—decided to attack the city from the west. The orchards to the west of the city, where the crusaders made their camp, would supply them with plenty of timber, food, and water and would be a good position from which to launch an assault.

  MILITARY INTELLIGENCE

  They were doing just great—the fall of Damascus was imminent—until they made a huge strategic blunder (yes, another one). They’d received reports that the eastern wall of the city was less fortified and they knew that a large Muslim relief force was on the way, so they decided to shift camp to the eastern side of Damascus. They now found themselves sitting on an exposed site with no water and little food. And it turned out that the intelligence they’d received was untrue.

  Hey, Indiana Jones! Many believe that the real Ark of the Covenant is in Ethiopia.

  So the Muslims quickly took advantage of the crusaders’ tactical blunder by occupying the western side of the city. This, of course, made it impossible for the crusaders to return to their original location. They’d managed to place themselves in a position from which they could only withdraw, which is exactly what they did.

  LOSERS

  The crusaders’ siege of Damascus, which had lasted all of four days, had come to a very abrupt end. In the face of this huge failure, their only real choice was to call it quits and return home, shame-faced and empty-handed. Of the 35,000 men who’d begun the Second Crusade, only a fraction made it back home. In contrast to the First Crusade, which had never lost its focus on the ultimate goal of taking Jerusalem from the Muslims, the Second Crusade had repeatedly taken its eye off the ball. The resources put into the Second Crusade were huge. The return on the investment was zero.

  THE END IS NEAR!

  Late in the year A.D. 999, as the hours ticked down toward the new year of 1000, people throughout Europe held their collective breath. What would the new year and millennium bring? Many believed it would herald the Last Judgment and the End of the World, and pilgrims converged on Jerusalem where they thought the final battle between good and evil would take place.

  Some of those pilgrims were thrown to their knees in mid-journey by a thunderstorm. They recorded the event for posterity, believing the thunder to be the voice of God announcing the Day of Judgment.

  Meanwhile, in September 999, a meteor appeared in the skies above England, shining with a light so brilliant it turned night into day. This caused a lot of doubters to quit the nonbelievers’ team and start playing for the other side.

  At least nobody had to worry about their computer crashing!

  Of the 22 people at the opening of King Tut’s sarcophagus, 21 were alive 10 years later.

  COFFEE KLATCH

  * * *

  It’s 6:00 a.m. and as you crawl out of bed, bleary-eyed, the most pressing question in your mind is: where did my morning java come from? Okay maybe not. But we’re going to tell you anyway.

  A long time ago—way before Starbucks—people told each other these legends about the origins of coffee.

  Story #1: According to an ancient Ethiopian legend, a goat herder named Kaldi discovered coffee while in the pasture with his animals. When he saw that his goats were acting frisky after eating berries from a certain tree, he decided to experiment on himself. Kaldi enjoyed the effect so much that he told the local monastery about it. The abbot who ran the place thought the “magic berries” were a work of the devil and threw them into the fire. The burning beans caused such a lovely aroma that the monks rescued them from the flames. The monks began to use the beans in religious ceremonies and for medicinal purposes.

  Story #2: The Arabian legend is very much like the Ethiopian, except, of course, in this story Kaldi is an Arab instead of an African. It features the same frisky berry-eating goats, and Kaldi try
ing some, too. But in this story, a tired and hungry learned man named Aucuba just happened to be passing by and saw Kaldi and his goats jumping around. Since he was hungry, he ate the berries and—miraculously—wasn’t tired any more. Aucuba was so impressed that he took some of the berries, sold them, and became a rich man. No one knows what happened to poor Kaldi who, we guess, didn’t have any of that entrepreneurial spirit.

  JOE IS BORN

  The earliest written record of coffee was in around A.D. 900 by an Arab physician-philosopher named Rhazes. Rhazes thought that coffee (which he called “bunchum”) contained a substance that could cure disease. But you didn’t drink it—the berries were dried, crushed, and mixed with fat to form a ball that was eaten.

  Stonehenge wasn’t built by Celtic Druids—it’s from 1,000 years before their time.

  FOR MEDICINAL PURPOSES ONLY

  So coffee was originally used by the “general public” as medicine. Only religious Muslims used the bean in a beverage. But by the 13th century, Arabian coffee houses (called “qahveh khanehs”) served it as a drink to anyone who had the money to pay for it. A lot of Muslims were so upset at the public use of this “holy beverage” that they threatened death to anyone who frequented these dens of sin. But you know what it’s like when you gotta have that cuppa java. It didn’t keep the café crowd away. And those coffee fans must have (excuse the pun) spilled the beans, because the word about coffee started to spread.

  THE TRAIL OF COFFEE

  Europe: European travelers brought back the news of an unusual black beverage called “qahveh.” (Get it? Coffee.) By 1615 Italy was importing it. Its debut caused a commotion among the Italian clergy who thought it was the “bitter invention of Satan.” (What is with these religious guys?) Pope Clement VIII eventually gave his papal approval. Over the next 80 years, coffee drinking and coffeehouses spread from Italy to other parts of Europe. In 1690 the Dutch managed to smuggle a few plants to the Netherlands where the first European coffee cultivation began. Thus ended the Arabian monopoly on the coffee trade.

  The New World: In 1723 a sneaky son-of-a-gun named Gabriel Mathieu de Clieu stole a coffee plant from the Jardin des Plantes, a botanical garden in Paris, with the intention of bringing coffee to America. Historic records say that on the voyage he encountered violent storms, pirate attacks, and a severe water shortage on board. It is almost a miracle that he and his treasured plant survived the voyage. It was from this one plant that the growth of coffee spread through the New World.

  Brazil: Coffee finally made its way to Brazil in 1727. Francisco de Melo Palheta, a Brazilian army lieutenant, was sent by his country to arbitrate a boundary dispute between French and Dutch Guiana. Both countries were cultivating coffee (progenies of de Clieu’s stolen coffee plant), but they weren’t allowing the export of seeds or seedlings. Palheta wanted his country to be part of the lucrative coffee trade, so he endeared himself to the wife of the governor of French Guiana. She was so impressed with how he handled the arbitration that on his departure she presented him with a bouquet. Hidden in the bouquet were coffee seeds and cuttings. Palheta brought them to Brazil, where they flourished, beginning the now well-known Brazilian coffee industry.

  To prevent warfare with rivals, Ottoman sultans had the right to kill their brothers.

  THE AMBLING ROOM

  * * *

  The search for World War II’s greatest treasure is still going strong.

  It’s been called the largest piece of jewelry ever created. Some experts estimate its worth at over $100 million; others say it’s priceless. Fortune hunters have looked for it at the bottom of the Baltic Sea, in a Lithuanian lagoon, buried in a silver mine, and in the treacherous world of art thieves. Forget about diamonds and gold! The hunt for World War II’s most compelling treasure centers on tree sap! Even though scholars insist it was destroyed, pieces of the amber room have recently come into the hands of the cops. Funny. You’d think it wouldn’t be so hard to find a room.

  ARE YOU LISTENING, MARTHA STEWART?

  The treasure was created at the beginning of the 18th century when the king of Prussia, Frederick I, and his architect came up with a novel form of interior decoration. They decided to have Frederick’s study in Berlin’s Royal Palace paneled in amber.

  Amber, the petrified resin of ancient trees, has always been popular. Ancient Egyptians wore it; decadent Romans gambled with amber dice; and wealthy Europeans in Frederick’s day wore amber jewelry and ate off amber bowls and plates. But an entire room of amber—that was an historic first.

  WE MEAN FOREVER

  The project took years to complete. The finest craftsmen in Europe engraved the amber and pieced together intricate mosaics to make four panels that lined Frederick’s study. By 1713 Frederick owned the most magnificent amber creation the world had ever seen. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a lot of time to enjoy it; he died the same year. The next king, Fredrick Wilhelm I, was nicknamed the “Soldier King.” And you know those military men: they don’t have much use for art treasures. So when Russian Czar Peter the Great came to Berlin in 1716 and admired the Amber Room, the new king had it dismantled and gave it to him.

  Hemorrhoids may have cost Napoleon victory at Waterloo. He couldn’t ride his horse.

  PETER THE PROCRASTINATOR

  Peter had about as much use for it as Frederick Wilhelm I: he put the room in storage, and there it stayed until Peter’s daughter, Elizabeth, ascended to the throne in 1741. The czarina was a woman of art and fashion; she saw the Amber Room as a fixer-upper with literally tons of potential. She installed it in the Catherine Palace in the town of Pushkin, and set her favorite architect, Bartolomeo Francesco Rastrelli, to work.

  GOING FOR BAROQUE

  The new Amber Room was a dazzler: gilt everywhere, wall mirrors, chandeliers, the whole bit. The room in the Catherine Palace was a larger space than Frederick’s original study, so additional jewel-encrusted panels were added. These included four Florentine mosaic scenes fashioned from gems like jasper, marble, jade, onyx, and quartz. Remember these mosaics; they’ll be turning up later under very suspicious circumstances. Also among the furnishings were display cases containing precious amber objects like chess sets, candlesticks, and jewel boxes, but it was the chamber itself that knocked the guests’ silk leggings off. A British ambassador called it the eighth wonder of the world.

  BARBARIANS AT THE GATE

  By the beginning of World War II, the Amber Room had been the pride of the Catherine Palace for almost 200 years. It had been restored periodically because of damage from sudden temperature changes. Anyway, for some reason—either the fragility of the amber or the speed at which the Germans were advancing—in 1941, the Soviet government evacuated the Amber Room’s contents to a hiding place in Siberia, but left the panels. Workers camouflaged the walls with layers of paper, cotton, and gauze.

  The Germans knew what they were looking for. Paper, cotton, and gauze didn’t fool them; Hitler wanted the Amber Room “returned to its homeland.” Soon after the Wehrmacht tanks rolled into Pushkin, German art experts arrived at the palace. They took the panels with them. The panels next showed up at a castle in Königsberg, East Prussia. Within four years the Soviets advanced on Königsberg, and it was the Germans’ turn to play “hide the Amber Room.” If they did stash it, no one ever found it: the Amber Room was never seen again.

  In 1659, England fined people five shillings if they were caught celebrating Christmas.

  THE MULTIMILLION DOLLAR QUESTION

  The fate of the Amber Room remains a question. Is it at the bottom of the Baltic Sea? Or in a lagoon? Was it buried in a silver mine? Has it fallen into the hands of art thieves? Or did it simply go up in smoke? The conflicting scenarios all have supporting evidence and eyewitness testimonials. Some Amber Room hunters think that when enemy troops surrounded Königsberg, the Germans evacuated the treasure by sea. Support for this scenario comes from witnesses who, in early 1945, saw suspicious crates being loaded onto the steamer, the Wilhe
lm Gustloff. The ship was sunk by a Russian submarine, so the Gustloff (and perhaps the Amber Room) lies on the bottom of the Baltic Sea. Other water-oriented hunters say the treasure isn’t far from Königsberg. Locals near the Lithuanian town of Neringa witnessed some SS soldiers hiding a number of crates on the Baltic shore. The water level rose and the crates (perhaps filled with amber) now lie at the bottom of a murky lagoon.

  SHIPMENT TO NOWHERE

  Other hunters found clues that led underground. Erich Koch, the Nazi official in charge of East Prussia, had a great interest in the Amber Room and may have sent it to his hometown of Weimar, Germany. Evidence shows that the art-loving Nazi sent over half of Königsberg’s many looted artworks home to Weimar. Some believe that, in Weimar, the art treasures were loaded into phony Red Cross trucks, then hidden in mines or bunkers. After the Allies imprisoned Koch, witnesses quoted him as saying, “where lies my treasures also lies the Amber Room.” He died in 1986, so he isn’t saying anything else—about anything.