Marie-Henri Beyle, better known as Stendhal, was born on this date in 1783 in Grenoble, France. Among the dozens of other pseudonyms he used were William Crocodile and Old Hummums (I’m not kidding), but Stendhal was the one that stuck. He got it from Stendal, the name of a German city, and added the H to help with its pronunciation. He hated his father so he fled to Paris as soon as he could, but got sick there, as a result of which his hair fell out. (Don’t you hate when that happens?) He wore a toupee his entire life. Disappointed in Paris, he enlisted in Napoleon’s army for the invasions of Italy and Russia, the latter of which did not go too well.
In 1818 he fell in love with the wife of a Polish officer. When she did not reciprocate, he trailed her across Italy (what today would be called stalking), disguising himself by wearing green eyeglasses. We’ve all been there — amirite, fellas? — I still have a drawer full of them. He couldn’t win her over, bespectacled or not, so he returned to Paris where he wrote his masterpieces.
In 1817, while in Florence, he visited the Basilica of Santa Croce, where Machiavelli, Michelangelo and Galileo are buried, and he was overcome by emotions. But I mean really overcome — heart palpitations, nearly fainting, that sort of stuff. Today, when someone is overcome by a work of art to the point of needing medical attention, it’s known as The Stendhal Syndrome. It was so named in 1979.
The staff at Florence’s Santa Maria Nuova hospital are accustomed to tourists suffering from dizzy spells or disorientation after viewing the statue of David, the artworks of the Uffizi Gallery, and other historic treasures of Florence. The syndrome is not listed as a recognized condition in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, so it may not be covered by insurance. There are no known cases of the syndrome’s arising after exposure to Owl Chatter.
There is also a Jerusalem Syndrome, triggered by religious sites, as opposed to artwork, and a Paris Syndrome, which is a severe form of culture shock.
I tried to find a photo of Stendhal with the glasses, but failed. Here he is, though, followed by a film based on the syndrome.
Remember I mentioned that something in a puzzle can open a little door for you? Some folks fall down a rabbit hole. Well, today, at 26A, an “aid for squeezing into a tight piece of footwear” was, of course, a SHOEHORN. It caused LMS to post the following.
“SHOEHORN — Mom gave me an extra one she had – one for old people that is almost a yard long. You know, so you don’t have to bend over. I just thanked her and shoved it in the back of my closet, quietly relieved that I wasn’t There yet, didn’t need something so obviously for old people. Fast forward a year and a half – now I use it from time to time for this one pair of tight shoes and darn if it’s not a swell invention. I also join mom in some daily MiraLAX and find myself using her 10X magnifying mirror when I’m in the mood to be horrified by a real close-up of my face skin. I went to church with her yesterday – we have to get there 30 minutes early for the 8:15 service – and this woman came over and joked that she saw me and thought I was my 87-year-old mom. I tell you what. This will flat bring you down a peg or two. When I catch myself scowling through a slit in the closed blinds at a truck I don’t recognize parked on the street, I just sit down and wonder where my life has gone.”
Someone else noted that a SHOEHORN is, in fact, a musical instrument, but it can only play footnotes. Or sole music.
“Lack of seriousness about a serious situation” was LEVITY at 59A. Levity was once a scientific term, thought to be a physical force like gravity but pulling in the opposite direction, like the helium in a balloon. As recently as the 19th century, scientists were still arguing about its existence. Today levity refers only to lightness in manner.
“Crystal filled rocks” was GEODES at 21A. They can be quite pretty.
The Monday NYTXW is, of course, supposed to be the easiest of the week. Some folks add to the challenge by trying to fill in the grid by looking only at the down clues. I haven’t tried that. Today’s, though, was unusually easy, which elicited this funny (IMO) comment by kitchef (a spoof of the sort of comment that is common on Fridays and Saturdays):
“Ridiculously hard. I mean, “Heaven’s opposite” gives you HELL? What on earth does that mean? “Not delayed” = ON TIME??? “Wet forecast” = RAIN??????? How on earth are we supposed to solve this thing?”
If you were a baseball fan in the first half of the ’70s, you remember that the Oakland A’s won the World Series three years in a row, ’72 – ’74. Sal Bando, who died last Friday at the age of 78, was their captain and played third base. In ’71 he was runner up for the AL MVP, finishing behind teammate Vida Blue. He had a very solid career, averaging 23 HR and 90 RBI over his last eight years in Oakland. Before turning pro, he played college ball at Arizona State U and won the College World Series with them in 1965.
Bando and teammate Gene Tenace were guest voices in a Simpsons episode in 2006. Here’s a shot from his induction into the College Baseball Hall of Fame.
At 8D, the African mammal resistant to snake venom is a MONGOOSE. The most famous mongoose is Riki-Tiki-Tavi from a short story by Kipling. In the story, Riki saves a family from cobras. In general, mongooses are considered protectors from snakes. (The plural is mongooses, not mongeese.) There is no term for a group of mongooses in An Exaltation of Larks. Since we have a gaggle of geese, maybe it should be a mongaggle of mongooses? Nah.
Remember the folksinger Donovan Leitch (Mellow Yellow)? He’s still alive and not too old (76). He has a song about the mongoose Riki-Tiki-Tavi. It’s kind of catchy.
And here’s what they look like:
That’s a cute image to end on. See you tomorrow!
The Wellington Files 