Differences between Trad and BCBG

Hugh Morrison

Active Member with Corp. Privileges
I don't think anyone has seriously thought that 'class' was genetic for the last 200 years or so.

However, 'breeding' is not generally thought of as being genetic in the strict sense of the word in the UK. As I understand it from Julian Fellowes' excellent novel 'Snobs' and Jilly Cooper's book 'Class', it is more to do with 'who you know' (what Mr Fellowes describes as 'the name game') and this naturally extends to 'who you came from'. It is your familial and proprietorial connections to your family and your ancestors that denote breeding, not your DNA.

There is also a belief that 'breeding will out', ie certain genetic characteristics are passed on from your parents - this is mentioned by Miss Mitford in 'Love in a Cold Climate' but this is less common.

My personal view is summed up in the lines by Tennyson:
'Kind hearts are more than coronets/And simple faith than Norman blood'.

'The casual idea is the triumph of misguided egalitarianism. By playing to the desire to seem non-judgmental, the Slob has succeeded in forcing his tastes on the world at large (because to object to inappropriate dress would be judgmental)'- Patrick07690
 

80FJ40

Active Member with Corp. Privileges
quote:Originally posted by globetrotter

quote:Originally posted by dopey

quote:Originally posted by Doctor Damage

Now that we're all really far off-topic in this thread, let me just add one thing: Everyone bleeds red, as we'll find out after the Revolution!

Anyway, I think the club that ashie259 mentioned was the CBGB, where The Ramones got started...along with Blondie, if I'm not mistaken, plus a few other leading-edge American punk bands. Was it located in the south end of Chicago, maybe? Can't remember...

DD

Located on the Bowery, somewhere around 2nd street. Blues Country and BlueGrass.

This signature is meaningless but all the cool kids have one </u>



it is going to close in the coming months. an end of an era


yes, CBGB OMFUG to be precise. Country, BlueGrass Blues, and Other Music For Uplifting Gourmandizers.



80FJ40
 

crazyquik

Super Member
Found this online:




quote:The BCBC (Bon Chic Bon Genre), the French equivalent of the British Sloane Ranger or the American preppie, can easily be spotted in their remain stamping grounds of Neuilly, Auteuil and Passy, the rich suburbs of the 16th and 17th arrondissements. They are easy to recognise sporting the Hermes scarves decorated with dead grouse, the velvet hairbands and the Chanel, Prada, Gucci, Hermes and lately Burberry quilted handbags—real, not imitation. For men, Lobb or Hogan shoes, Dunhill pipes and even cravats are still in vogue.
Like their British and American counterparts, a profound conservatism, adherence to classicism and traditional values and a marked dislike of anything new or trendy are the dominant traits of this species of Parisian. You want to see them in their natural habitat? Try the VIP enclosure at Chantilly race course or spy at them sipping “chocolat africain†with pet poodle in tow at ANGELINA salon de the on rue de Rivoli, well known by a lot of tourists, or tearoom-chocolatier “LADUREE†on the Champs Elysees. For the “more branchéâ€, (literally “plugged inâ€), of the species, dancing the night away at LES BAINS DOUCHES, Paris’s perpetually “in†nightclub located in old swimming baths.

---------------------


Beware of showroom sales-fever reasoning: i.e., "for $20 . . ." Once you're home, how little you paid is forgotten; how good you look in it is all that matters.
 

Emma

Starting Member
quote:Originally posted by kencpollock

When in Paris recently I stopped in Berteil, capital of BCBG and bought an olive heather herringbone (with windowpane overplaid) tweed sport jacket and some argyle socks. The jacket was very J. Press, except for a very squared-off and somewhat built-up shoulder. The argyles are first-rate. I noticed a big stock of Alden tassels loafers. All in all, the place seemed more Trad than not, but what are the main differences between BCBG and Trad?

Messieurs,

I happen to own a photocopy taken of one unis piece of Thierry Mantoux’s BCBG (1986) and have had the time to translate a bit of it for you (copyright watchers, take this as an marketing opportunity, would you please?). As I’m no native English speaker, nor native French speaker, I have to use the original French wordings somewhere. But if you more able francophones will give the appropriate words I’ll replace the French ones later.

So let’s begin with “Guillaumeâ€, the young BCBG of 1986. This is his tenue.
- Arrow shirts, or similar ones (cotton, button collar, stripes or one-coloured)
- some fantasy bow tie (club ties restricted to emergency cases, from father’s armoury)
- foulards, silk or cashmere, olive green or bordeaux
- Lacoste [meaning shirts of course] or similar branded ones bought in braderie [cheap shops. Outlets?] in Sciences Po
- lambswool sweaters (Benetton), in varying colours, base colour: marine blue, grey.
- tweed west, multicoloured for going out, meeting friends, …
- blazer
- grey flannel trousers a revers [gosh I know this one but you can guess], perfect for family reunions
- light beige velour trousers a pinces [with pleats?]
- beige trousers a pinces [with pleats?]
- grey flannel suit from 16 years on
- 501 Levi’s jeans
- in pockets: agenda and address book
- Burlington jacquard socks
- green loden and a cap in houndstooth check (for cold weather)
- rain coat in genre Burberry´s or military style khaki (surplus de Neuilly)
- underpants: ridiculous (Arthur) or more classic (Fruit of the Loom)
- shoes: always well polished
- Weston moccasins black or maroon
- Church shoes maroon (or similar genre)
- American moccasins, college style [I’d say penny loafers]
- Docksides for summer
- Rasurel surf swimming pants, tricolour, some Bermudas
- Cotton pyjamas, sky blue, marine blue or bordeaux, and a tartan housecoat
For evening
- black tie, ultra classic, shawl collar
- white pique shirt, col casse
- black Westons
- black shades, used also against the sun (Ray-Ban or Vuarnet)
Accessories
- Leather belts and fabric belts with motifs (golf clubs, boats, geese)
- Zippo lighter
- Blue Rothmans [so cigarettes]
- round eyeglasses (if needed), genre ecaille
- cashmere scarf
- gloves (leather) from September to June whatever the weather [quelque soit le temps]!
Scents
- Paco Rabanne
- Phileas, Nina Ricci
- Vetyver, Guerlain
- Azzaro pour homme
- shaving soap, deodorant, etc. from Roger et Gallet.

The places to shop [I didn’t check if all of these still exist]
- Sappes
- Smuggler
- Surplus de Neuilly
- Alain Figaret (shirts)
- Benetton
- Cyrillus
- Manfield (Church and Docksides)
- Weston
 

KenCPollock

Active Member with Corp. Privileges
I have always been surprised that certain USA brands, which are thought of as very ordinary, or worse here, have great prestige in France:
(a) Arrow shirts
(b) Fruit of the Loom
(c) BD Baggies
(d) Marlboro (they even sell Marlboro branded clothing)
(e) Levi's (always 501s)
(f) Burlington argyle socks
 

xcubbies

Super Member
American brands of varying degree are in evidence. Here in Geneva they have a McGregor store which I'm not even sure is still producing for the US market any longer. Prices were very high, especially if you know McGregor from the past. There are a number of shops that sell American brands in small quantities, i.e. Timberland, Gap, RL, Tommy H, and sell for probably double what they'd cost in a department store in the US. Not sure to what degree duty place a role; probably not that much. It's not AAF quality, but it represents a look. For me, BCBG is synonomous with 'snob. But people can wear buttondowns, and/or chinos, albeit with pleats, and not necessarily think of themselves as BCBG.
 

Rich

Super Member
quote:Originally posted by kencpollock

I have always been surprised that certain USA brands, which are thought of as very ordinary, or worse here, have great prestige in France:
(a) Arrow shirts
(b) Fruit of the Loom
(c) BD Baggies
(d) Marlboro (they even sell Marlboro branded clothing)
(e) Levi's (always 501s)
(f) Burlington argyle socks

[:0]I've been wearing Burlington argyle socks on and off for 30 years without knowing they were an American brand. I must have bought hundreds of pairs in that time - Burlington are the gold standard for argyle socks in France - good quality, and a very wide range of colour combinations that change every season.
 

KenCPollock

Active Member with Corp. Privileges
[/quote]

[:0]I've been wearing Burlington argyle socks on and off for 30 years without knowing they were an American brand. I must have bought hundreds of pairs in that time - Burlington are the gold standard for argyle socks in France - good quality, and a very wide range of colour combinations that change every season.
[/quote]

They are not at all popular here, except with a very few old preppies and are sold mostly in cheap stores, like JC Penney, for about 1/5 the Paris price.
 

Rich

Super Member
quote:Originally posted by kencpollock



[:0]I've been wearing Burlington argyle socks on and off for 30 years without knowing they were an American brand. I must have bought hundreds of pairs in that time - Burlington are the gold standard for argyle socks in France - good quality, and a very wide range of colour combinations that change every season.

quote:They are not at all popular here, except with a very few old preppies and are sold mostly in cheap stores, like JC Penney, for about 1/5 the Paris price.

Interesting - what would you say would be the top brands of argyle socks in the US?
 

KenCPollock

Active Member with Corp. Privileges
[/quote]

Interesting - what would you say would be the top brands of argyle socks in the US?
[/quote]

Although I occasionally see some for sale made by Pantherella, Byford and Polo, it is just not a popular look in the USA and has not been so for 40 years.
 

manicturncoat

Active Member with Corp. Privileges
There has been a lot of talk on this about how class attributes or a class can be reached by assuming the proper dress, manners, language etc. This is true but not as simple as it seems, apart from the people granted automatic entry due to their pedigree, pretenders will be subjected to a minute and constant examination. The bar can be set impossibly high and the gatekeepers are most often those whose position is the least assured, the true grandees, assured of their position, usually display a blithe indifference, when a member of their family threatens to make an inappropriate marriage they will be roused to action.
 

Rich

Super Member
quote:Originally posted by kencpollock



Interesting - what would you say would be the top brands of argyle socks in the US?


Although I occasionally see some for sale made by Pantherella, Byford and Polo, it is just not a popular look in the USA and has not been so for 40 years.

Argyle socks - several brands, of which Burlington is the most classic - can be found in abundance in every men's hosiery store or department in France. This has been the case for as long as I can remember. The design is vaguely associated in people's minds with Britain and the Duke of Windsor, rather than with American Trad.

Incidentally,the Arrow brand is or was associated with the typically American button-down box-pleated often non-iron shirt that became readily available in France in the fifties and sixties. Such shirts can still be found but are rare, the design having been copied by cheap French shirtmakers.

On close inspection, a lot of the stuff distributed under the Cyrillus label in France seems to me rather American in inspiration - two-button double-vented sports coats rather than the three-button single-vented slant-pocketed English style (e.g., Burberry). It would seem that BCBG has been infused with American Trad/college style, though I think French people may not be aware of this.
 
The Young Fogey: an elegy

Harry Mount mourns the extinction of young men who wore four-piece tweed suits, including ‘westkits’, and loved the old Prayer Book They’re playing rap music in the jewellery department at Christie’s South Kensington. In T.M. Lewin, the Jermyn Street shirtmakers, you can dip into a fridge by the cufflinks counter and have a frozen mini-Mars while you are leafing through the chocolate corduroy jackets.

But who is left to mourn these things? In the old days, the Young Fogey, the character invented by Alan Watkins on these pages in 1984, would have been in the vanguard of the protesters, shrieking and whinnying away about the desecration of his haunts. He is silent ...because he is no more.

Twenty years after his creation, the Young Fogey has pedalled off into the sunset on his sit-up-and-beg butcher’s bike, broad-brim fedora firmly on head, wicker basket strapped to the handlebars by leather and brass ties.

He hasn’t actually died. The two archetypes of the Young Fogey mentioned by Mr Watkins — the journalist and novelist A.N. Wilson, and Dr John Casey, Fellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge — were only in their thirties at the time, and so are now in their fifties and in rude health. But there is no one following in their footsteps and they have abandoned the whimsical attitudes that once defined them.

The grown-up Young Fogey — now, typically, in a position of power, as are Mr Wilson and Dr Casey — will live in some style, but he’ll no longer be interested in style. You might not even notice him in a crowd. Goodbye, braces with old-fashioned fasteners and trouser waistbands strapped perilously close to the nipple line. Farewell, frockcoats cut for long-dead Victorians. No more the endless pairs of black brogues. Hello, suit of modern cut. Hello, moccasins. Hello, loafers.

The term ‘fogey’ dates from the 18th century, and is related to the slang word ‘fogram’, of unknown origin, according to the Oxford English Dictionary. ‘Old fogey’ was used of old-fashioned people for several hundred years before the Young Fogey came along. Alan Watkins acknowledges that ‘the phrase had first been used by Dornford Yates in 1928’. He also specifically acknowledges that he borrowed the phrase from the literary journalist and Proust translator Terence Kilmartin, ‘who had used it of John Casey’.

But it is Mr Watkins who put flesh — and tweed — on the skeleton. As he wrote in his Spectator piece, the Young Fogey ‘is libertarian but not liberal. He is conservative but has no time for Mrs Margaret Thatcher and considers Mr Neil Kinnock the most personally attractive of the present party leaders. He is a scholar of Evelyn Waugh. He tends to be coolly religious, either RC or C of E. He dislikes modern architecture. He makes a great fuss about the old Prayer Book, grammar, syntax and punctuation. He laments the difficulty of purchasing good bread, Cheddar cheese, kippers and sausages.... He enjoys walking and travelling by train. He thinks the Times is not what it was and prefers the Daily Telegraph.’

There was a significant sartorial element to the Young Fogey. Dr Casey remembers the architectural historian Gavin Stamp matriculating at Cambridge in 1968, at the height of the Paris Revolution, wearing ‘tall collars, very wide lapels and double-breasted waistcoats’. And that fed in turn into Dr Stamp’s architectural interests and the emphasis on High Victoriana — the books on Alexander ‘Greek’ Thomson, George Gilbert Scott junior and the late Gothic Revival.

But it wasn’t just clothes that defined the movement. ‘Roger Scruton had a strong architectural Young Fogey reaction,’ says Dr Casey, ‘but he never followed the sartorial line.’

The Young Fogeys were also concerned with gentle and gentlemanly attitudes. ‘I thought that was more striking than their way of dressing — a genuine idea of gentlemanliness,’ Dr Casey continues. ‘Oliver Letwin wasn’t a Young Fogey when it came to clothes. But at Cambridge he had that gentlemanly air that he still has; that I think goes down very well.’

For a while, the Young Fogey ruled. ‘Everyone went mad,’ recalls Alan Watkins. ‘The fierce Veronica Wadley [now the editor of the London Evening Standard], even then a power in middle-market journalism, declared that for the moment she was interested only in articles about Young Fogeys. I was asked to write a book about them, to be called The Official Young Fogey Handbook.’

Mr Watkins declined, but the Telegraph journalist Suzanne Lowry did end up writing a book on the subject. And for a while after, the Young Fogey had his time in the sun (always the English sun; foreign holidays were not for him). There were buttressing forces at work. The 1981 television adaptation of Brideshead Revisited reverberated in slowly declining waves for more than a decade. When I was at Oxford in the early Nineties, it was still working its effects through a regular crop of about 30 undergraduates a year, who had been 10-year-olds when it was first shown and had been knocked sideways by it, much as other 10-year-olds were overwhelmed by catching the Sex Pistols in 1977 or would be overwhelmed by Michael Jackson’s Thriller, which came out the year after Brideshead.

Seersucker jackets, plovers’ eggs, wind-up gramophones on purple velvet cushions in punts — these were the toys of some of my contemporaries as late as 1993.

‘I had a four-piece light-green tweed suit — without trousers — made when I was at Oxford,’ says Richard De Moravia, 34, now a media lawyer. ‘With a flat cap, jacket, waistcoat and a cloak lined in bright gold. The tailor wanted to make it a five-piece by making me some tweed spats. I thought that was too much.’

Daniel Hannan, at Oxford at the same time and now MEP for South-East England, marvels at some of the lengths the Young Fogeys went to. ‘One particularly recherché affectation was to use old constituency names; so instead of saying Mid-Staffs or South-East Staffs, they’d say “Lichfield, Rugely and Stone†or “Tamworthâ€. A similar thing today, which I admit I’m rather in favour of, is consciously to convert all prices into the pre-euro currencies when travelling in Europe. But I think it’s all in decline now. Fish need water to swim in. To sustain a few people with silver-topped canes and monocles, you need a critical mass in cords and shiny brogues.’

There’s hardly a teddy bear or a bottle of Madeira between the undergraduates at Oxford now. When I returned there at the end of last term, on a boiling hot summer’s day, there wasn’t a single boater to be seen.

Look in vain round St James’s these days for the etiolated 30-year-old making his way from London Library to Georgian terrace home in Islington, sniffing the evening air for incense seeping under the doorway of All Saints, Margaret Street: ‘Decidedly north German in effect — strong whiff of the Marienkirche at Lübeck, don’t you think? Or maybe Freiburg im Breisgau.’

He’s gone for good.

John Casey, the original target of Mr Watkins and Mr Kilmartin (‘I didn’t mind. I thought it was amusing’), agrees. ‘There are a few undergraduate Young Fogeys left at Cambridge, but any organised body of sentiment attached to the ceremony of life has gone.’

The Young Fogey had looked as though he’d last much longer than a decade. He was certainly robustly built to withstand the buffeting of the years, with his thick, thornproof tweed jacket, matched with a waistcoat — pronounced ‘westkit’ — the bushy mutton-chop whiskers lovingly cropped at Trumper’s, doused in pomade and bordered by baby-pink skin shaved with badger-hair brushes, shaving soap and cut-throat razors.

Why has he gone? It’s not that Britain is no longer fogeyish or that the institutions the YF took to — the National Trust, Latin Masses, the Georgian Society — have disappeared; they’re flourishing. Gentlemen’s clubs are as difficult to get into as they have ever been. ‘The waiting list for the Garrick is eight years’ long,’ says a spokesman for the club. If you walk down Pall Mall, you’ll see a huge glossy poster that spans the full façade of the RAC Club showing its Turkish baths in all their newly refurbished beauty. Croquet is as popular as it has ever been since its heyday just before the first world war. The Daily Telegraph does a brisk trade in boxed DVD sets of Brideshead Revisited and The Forsyte Saga. And more children now attend public school than ever before.

That very success killed off the Young Fogey. Like the SDP wilting after its great triumph — forcing the modernisation of the Labour party — there’s nothing left for the Young Fogey to fight for. ‘It was a rebel movement,’ says Dr Casey, one that developed in reaction to the naked materialism, the blurring of class boundaries and the boxy, square-shouldered, belted suit of the early Eighties.

‘It was a reaction to bohemianism, too,’ says Craig Brown, the satirist. ‘People are much more work-based now. Then there were many more people being bohemians, and the Young Fogeys took against them. I noticed the other day when I was dropping my daughter off at Marlborough, the children all seemed conventional. They all looked the same and were thinking about what jobs they were going to do.’

The in-yer-face, ‘I love 1830’ Young Fogey spirit — as vigorous in its way as the Club 18-30 spirits of the Faliraki partygoers — had to disappear once everybody came round to its way of thinking: to buying Regency rectories, coating them with National Trust paint combinations and taking holidays in Landmark Trust follies.

‘I joined the Travellers’ Club at a very young age as a sort of rebellious gesture,’ says Craig Brown. ‘And I suddenly got worried that I’d got to the stage where I had become the real thing, so I gave up my membership. It was the same sort of thing with A.N. Wilson — no one could ever call him conventional.’

The Young Fogey was as cut off and contrary as the Millwall fan. The hooligan’s cry — ‘Nobody likes us, we don’t care’ — might just as well have applied to the Edwardian-suited architectural historian of 1984. When the public started to love him — and even imitate him — he had to shuffle out of his Huntsman suit and head for Armani, perhaps mournfully fishing a frozen mini-Mars out of the T.M. Lewin fridge on his way over.
 
quote:From Library Journal

This cultural history explains the European settlement of the United States as voluntary migrations from four English cultural centers. Families of zealous, literate Puritan yeomen and artisans from urbanized East Anglia established a religious community in Massachusetts (1629-40); royalist cavaliers headed by Sir William Berkeley and young, male indentured servants from the south and west of England built a highly stratified agrarian way of life in Virginia (1640-70); egalitarian Quakers of modest social standing from the North Midlands resettled in the Delaware Valley and promoted a social pluralism (1675-1715); and, in by far the largest migration (1717-75), poor borderland families of English, Scots, and Irish fled a violent environment to seek a better life in a similarly uncertain American backcountry. These four cultures, reflected in regional patterns of language, architecture, literacy, dress, sport, social structure, religious beliefs, and familial ways, persisted in the American settlements. The final chapter shows the significance of these regional cultures for American history up to the present. Insightful, fresh, interesting, and well-written, this synthesis of traditional and more current historical scholarship provides a model for interpretations of the American character. Subsequent volumes of this promised multivolume work will be eagerly awaited. Highly recommended for the general reader and the scholar.
- David Szatmary, Univ. of Washington, Seattle


https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0195069056/






quote:


In, Albion's Seed, author David Hackett Fischer traces the origins of four major immigrations to America and shows how cultural norms were transplanted from various parts of England to America. He theorizes the folkways they brought with them explain how and why different regions in America developed as they did. He believes they are still having an impact today.

The first migration was the Puritans. They emanated from Southeast England from 1629 until 1641 and settled in the Massachusetts area. Strict, pious, and extremely frugal, they fled religious persecution in England only to deny religious liberty to all but their own in New England.

The second were the, "Distressed Cavaliers and Indentured Servants," who left Southwest England between 1642 and 1675 settling principally in Virginia. The ruling elite, primarily the second sons of noblemen, brought with them the sense of pride and honor of which so many Southern legends are told.

Third were the, "Friends," commonly called, "Quakers," who settled in Pennsylvania from 1675-1725. Emanating from the northern midlands, they were tolerant, hard working men and women who eschewed violence as they followed the, "inner light," they believed indwelled all mankind.

Last were the Scotch-Irish (almost exclusively Presbyterian) who settled what was called, "the back country." Coming from the northern borderlands of England etc.. , these people brought a fierce pride and a warrior ethic that translated into many blood feuds in what is now Appalachia. Includes Andrew Jackson, Thomas Jefferson, Bill Clinton etc..

Fischer theorizes this pattern of regionalism persists to this day. He cites as evidence the fact that political candidates must seek to appeal to more than one region if they hope to be elected nationally. George Bush's and Jimmy Carter's elections are two examples.

This work first came to my attention when it was used as a reference in upper level history classes. While it is long, (898 pages plus the index with numerous footnotes), it is a valuable asset to anyone seriously studying how and why things have developed as they have in this nation. I strongly recommend it to any serious student of the history or sociology of this nation. Five Stars!!




https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0195069056/
 
I suppose some minor French styling can be added into Scotch/Scots or American Scots wardrobe :


"The Auld Alliance was an alliance between Scotland, France, and Norway which had its origins in the Orkneyinga saga and the colonisation of Normandy. It was the first recorded treaty for mutual self-defence between European nations. Although Norway never took much part in it, it played a role in Franco-Scottish (and English) affairs, until 1746. Although Norway never invoked the treaty, she was involved in Franco-Scottish politics until 1746.

The alliance is thought to reach as far back as 1165, and William I of Scotland; although the first documentary evidence dates from the treaty signed by John Balliol and Philip IV of France, in 1295. The terms of the treaty stipulated that if any country was attacked by England, the other countries would invade English territory, as became evident at the Battle of Flodden Field, 1513.
"

BCBG stands for the French phrase, "bon chic, bon genre," meaning, "good style, good attitude.


"Although principally a military and diplomatic agreement, the alliance also granted "dual citizenship" in both countries. Thus, its influence also extended into the lives of the Scottish population in a number of ways: including architecture, law, the Scots language and cuisine, due in part to the Scottish mercenaries participating in French armies. Scots also greatly enjoyed having their choice of France's finest wines."

"Relationship with France

In 1336, at the beginning of the Hundred Years' War, the French king Philip VI provided military support for David II, who fled to France after being deposed by Edward III of England.

In 1346, under the terms of the Auld Alliance, Scotland invaded England in the interests of France. However, they were defeated, and David II was taken prisoner at the Battle of Neville's Cross.

In 1421, at the Battle of Bauge, French and Scots forces dealt a crushing defeat to the English, for which the Scots were richly- rewarded. However, their victory was a short-lived one: at Verneuil in 1424, the Scots army was annihilated. Despite this defeat, the Scots had given France a valuable breathing space; effectively saving the country from English domination.

In addition, in 1429 Scots came to the aid of Joan of Arc in her famous relief of Orléans; many went on to form the Garde Écossaise, the fiercely-loyal bodyguard of the French monarchy. Many Scottish mercenaries chose to settle in France, although they continued to consider themselves "Scots".


It is worth noting that the form of Protestantism that was established in Scotland followed the model set out by the Frenchman John Calvin. So that most Scottish of institutions, the Kirk, has French roots.



____


__
 

n/a

Senior Member
quote:Originally posted by FrancisPlantagenet




The Young Fogey: an elegy

Harry Mount mourns the extinction of young men who wore four-piece tweed suits, including ‘westkits’, and loved the old Prayer Book They’re playing rap music in the jewellery department at Christie’s South Kensington. In T.M. Lewin, the Jermyn Street shirtmakers, you can dip into a fridge by the cufflinks counter and have a frozen mini-Mars while you are leafing through the chocolate corduroy jackets.

But who is left to mourn these things? In the old days, the Young Fogey, the character invented by Alan Watkins on these pages in 1984, would have been in the vanguard of the protesters, shrieking and whinnying away about the desecration of his haunts. He is silent ...because he is no more.

Twenty years after his creation, the Young Fogey has pedalled off into the sunset on his sit-up-and-beg butcher’s bike, broad-brim fedora firmly on head, wicker basket strapped to the handlebars by leather and brass ties.

He hasn’t actually died. The two archetypes of the Young Fogey mentioned by Mr Watkins — the journalist and novelist A.N. Wilson, and Dr John Casey, Fellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge — were only in their thirties at the time, and so are now in their fifties and in rude health. But there is no one following in their footsteps and they have abandoned the whimsical attitudes that once defined them.

The grown-up Young Fogey — now, typically, in a position of power, as are Mr Wilson and Dr Casey — will live in some style, but he’ll no longer be interested in style. You might not even notice him in a crowd. Goodbye, braces with old-fashioned fasteners and trouser waistbands strapped perilously close to the nipple line. Farewell, frockcoats cut for long-dead Victorians. No more the endless pairs of black brogues. Hello, suit of modern cut. Hello, moccasins. Hello, loafers.

The term ‘fogey’ dates from the 18th century, and is related to the slang word ‘fogram’, of unknown origin, according to the Oxford English Dictionary. ‘Old fogey’ was used of old-fashioned people for several hundred years before the Young Fogey came along. Alan Watkins acknowledges that ‘the phrase had first been used by Dornford Yates in 1928’. He also specifically acknowledges that he borrowed the phrase from the literary journalist and Proust translator Terence Kilmartin, ‘who had used it of John Casey’.

But it is Mr Watkins who put flesh — and tweed — on the skeleton. As he wrote in his Spectator piece, the Young Fogey ‘is libertarian but not liberal. He is conservative but has no time for Mrs Margaret Thatcher and considers Mr Neil Kinnock the most personally attractive of the present party leaders. He is a scholar of Evelyn Waugh. He tends to be coolly religious, either RC or C of E. He dislikes modern architecture. He makes a great fuss about the old Prayer Book, grammar, syntax and punctuation. He laments the difficulty of purchasing good bread, Cheddar cheese, kippers and sausages.... He enjoys walking and travelling by train. He thinks the Times is not what it was and prefers the Daily Telegraph.’

There was a significant sartorial element to the Young Fogey. Dr Casey remembers the architectural historian Gavin Stamp matriculating at Cambridge in 1968, at the height of the Paris Revolution, wearing ‘tall collars, very wide lapels and double-breasted waistcoats’. And that fed in turn into Dr Stamp’s architectural interests and the emphasis on High Victoriana — the books on Alexander ‘Greek’ Thomson, George Gilbert Scott junior and the late Gothic Revival.

But it wasn’t just clothes that defined the movement. ‘Roger Scruton had a strong architectural Young Fogey reaction,’ says Dr Casey, ‘but he never followed the sartorial line.’

The Young Fogeys were also concerned with gentle and gentlemanly attitudes. ‘I thought that was more striking than their way of dressing — a genuine idea of gentlemanliness,’ Dr Casey continues. ‘Oliver Letwin wasn’t a Young Fogey when it came to clothes. But at Cambridge he had that gentlemanly air that he still has; that I think goes down very well.’

For a while, the Young Fogey ruled. ‘Everyone went mad,’ recalls Alan Watkins. ‘The fierce Veronica Wadley [now the editor of the London Evening Standard], even then a power in middle-market journalism, declared that for the moment she was interested only in articles about Young Fogeys. I was asked to write a book about them, to be called The Official Young Fogey Handbook.’

Mr Watkins declined, but the Telegraph journalist Suzanne Lowry did end up writing a book on the subject. And for a while after, the Young Fogey had his time in the sun (always the English sun; foreign holidays were not for him). There were buttressing forces at work. The 1981 television adaptation of Brideshead Revisited reverberated in slowly declining waves for more than a decade. When I was at Oxford in the early Nineties, it was still working its effects through a regular crop of about 30 undergraduates a year, who had been 10-year-olds when it was first shown and had been knocked sideways by it, much as other 10-year-olds were overwhelmed by catching the Sex Pistols in 1977 or would be overwhelmed by Michael Jackson’s Thriller, which came out the year after Brideshead.

Seersucker jackets, plovers’ eggs, wind-up gramophones on purple velvet cushions in punts — these were the toys of some of my contemporaries as late as 1993.

‘I had a four-piece light-green tweed suit — without trousers — made when I was at Oxford,’ says Richard De Moravia, 34, now a media lawyer. ‘With a flat cap, jacket, waistcoat and a cloak lined in bright gold. The tailor wanted to make it a five-piece by making me some tweed spats. I thought that was too much.’

Daniel Hannan, at Oxford at the same time and now MEP for South-East England, marvels at some of the lengths the Young Fogeys went to. ‘One particularly recherché affectation was to use old constituency names; so instead of saying Mid-Staffs or South-East Staffs, they’d say “Lichfield, Rugely and Stone†or “Tamworthâ€. A similar thing today, which I admit I’m rather in favour of, is consciously to convert all prices into the pre-euro currencies when travelling in Europe. But I think it’s all in decline now. Fish need water to swim in. To sustain a few people with silver-topped canes and monocles, you need a critical mass in cords and shiny brogues.’

There’s hardly a teddy bear or a bottle of Madeira between the undergraduates at Oxford now. When I returned there at the end of last term, on a boiling hot summer’s day, there wasn’t a single boater to be seen.

Look in vain round St James’s these days for the etiolated 30-year-old making his way from London Library to Georgian terrace home in Islington, sniffing the evening air for incense seeping under the doorway of All Saints, Margaret Street: ‘Decidedly north German in effect — strong whiff of the Marienkirche at Lübeck, don’t you think? Or maybe Freiburg im Breisgau.’

He’s gone for good.

John Casey, the original target of Mr Watkins and Mr Kilmartin (‘I didn’t mind. I thought it was amusing’), agrees. ‘There are a few undergraduate Young Fogeys left at Cambridge, but any organised body of sentiment attached to the ceremony of life has gone.’

The Young Fogey had looked as though he’d last much longer than a decade. He was certainly robustly built to withstand the buffeting of the years, with his thick, thornproof tweed jacket, matched with a waistcoat — pronounced ‘westkit’ — the bushy mutton-chop whiskers lovingly cropped at Trumper’s, doused in pomade and bordered by baby-pink skin shaved with badger-hair brushes, shaving soap and cut-throat razors.

Why has he gone? It’s not that Britain is no longer fogeyish or that the institutions the YF took to — the National Trust, Latin Masses, the Georgian Society — have disappeared; they’re flourishing. Gentlemen’s clubs are as difficult to get into as they have ever been. ‘The waiting list for the Garrick is eight years’ long,’ says a spokesman for the club. If you walk down Pall Mall, you’ll see a huge glossy poster that spans the full façade of the RAC Club showing its Turkish baths in all their newly refurbished beauty. Croquet is as popular as it has ever been since its heyday just before the first world war. The Daily Telegraph does a brisk trade in boxed DVD sets of Brideshead Revisited and The Forsyte Saga. And more children now attend public school than ever before.

That very success killed off the Young Fogey. Like the SDP wilting after its great triumph — forcing the modernisation of the Labour party — there’s nothing left for the Young Fogey to fight for. ‘It was a rebel movement,’ says Dr Casey, one that developed in reaction to the naked materialism, the blurring of class boundaries and the boxy, square-shouldered, belted suit of the early Eighties.

‘It was a reaction to bohemianism, too,’ says Craig Brown, the satirist. ‘People are much more work-based now. Then there were many more people being bohemians, and the Young Fogeys took against them. I noticed the other day when I was dropping my daughter off at Marlborough, the children all seemed conventional. They all looked the same and were thinking about what jobs they were going to do.’

The in-yer-face, ‘I love 1830’ Young Fogey spirit — as vigorous in its way as the Club 18-30 spirits of the Faliraki partygoers — had to disappear once everybody came round to its way of thinking: to buying Regency rectories, coating them with National Trust paint combinations and taking holidays in Landmark Trust follies.

‘I joined the Travellers’ Club at a very young age as a sort of rebellious gesture,’ says Craig Brown. ‘And I suddenly got worried that I’d got to the stage where I had become the real thing, so I gave up my membership. It was the same sort of thing with A.N. Wilson — no one could ever call him conventional.’

The Young Fogey was as cut off and contrary as the Millwall fan. The hooligan’s cry — ‘Nobody likes us, we don’t care’ — might just as well have applied to the Edwardian-suited architectural historian of 1984. When the public started to love him — and even imitate him — he had to shuffle out of his Huntsman suit and head for Armani, perhaps mournfully fishing a frozen mini-Mars out of the T.M. Lewin fridge on his way over.

----------------------

Many thanks for the post. This paragraph in particular prompted a sigh of agreement:

"But it is Mr Watkins who put flesh — and tweed — on the skeleton. As he wrote in his Spectator piece, the Young Fogey ‘is libertarian but not liberal. He is conservative but has no time for Mrs Margaret Thatcher and considers Mr Neil Kinnock the most personally attractive of the present party leaders. He is a scholar of Evelyn Waugh. He tends to be coolly religious, either RC or C of E. He dislikes modern architecture. He makes a great fuss about the old Prayer Book, grammar, syntax and punctuation. He laments the difficulty of purchasing good bread, Cheddar cheese, kippers and sausages.... He enjoys walking and travelling by train. He thinks the Times is not what it was and prefers the Daily Telegraph.’"

The American version of the "young fogey" differs a bit from the British version; still, the same idea is at work. The reaction against (response to) "bohemianism" is also right on the mark. Right on.

Again, thanks for posting.

Cheers,
Harris
 
quote:Originally posted by Harris

quote:Originally posted by FrancisPlantagenet




The Young Fogey: an elegy

Harry Mount mourns the extinction of young men who wore four-piece tweed suits, including ‘westkits’, and loved the old Prayer Book They’re playing rap music in the jewellery department at Christie’s South Kensington. In T.M. Lewin, the Jermyn Street shirtmakers, you can dip into a fridge by the cufflinks counter and have a frozen mini-Mars while you are leafing through the chocolate corduroy jackets.

But who is left to mourn these things? In the old days, the Young Fogey, the character invented by Alan Watkins on these pages in 1984, would have been in the vanguard of the protesters, shrieking and whinnying away about the desecration of his haunts. He is silent ...because he is no more.

Twenty years after his creation, the Young Fogey has pedalled off into the sunset on his sit-up-and-beg butcher’s bike, broad-brim fedora firmly on head, wicker basket strapped to the handlebars by leather and brass ties.

He hasn’t actually died. The two archetypes of the Young Fogey mentioned by Mr Watkins — the journalist and novelist A.N. Wilson, and Dr John Casey, Fellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge — were only in their thirties at the time, and so are now in their fifties and in rude health. But there is no one following in their footsteps and they have abandoned the whimsical attitudes that once defined them.

The grown-up Young Fogey — now, typically, in a position of power, as are Mr Wilson and Dr Casey — will live in some style, but he’ll no longer be interested in style. You might not even notice him in a crowd. Goodbye, braces with old-fashioned fasteners and trouser waistbands strapped perilously close to the nipple line. Farewell, frockcoats cut for long-dead Victorians. No more the endless pairs of black brogues. Hello, suit of modern cut. Hello, moccasins. Hello, loafers.

The term ‘fogey’ dates from the 18th century, and is related to the slang word ‘fogram’, of unknown origin, according to the Oxford English Dictionary. ‘Old fogey’ was used of old-fashioned people for several hundred years before the Young Fogey came along. Alan Watkins acknowledges that ‘the phrase had first been used by Dornford Yates in 1928’. He also specifically acknowledges that he borrowed the phrase from the literary journalist and Proust translator Terence Kilmartin, ‘who had used it of John Casey’.

But it is Mr Watkins who put flesh — and tweed — on the skeleton. As he wrote in his Spectator piece, the Young Fogey ‘is libertarian but not liberal. He is conservative but has no time for Mrs Margaret Thatcher and considers Mr Neil Kinnock the most personally attractive of the present party leaders. He is a scholar of Evelyn Waugh. He tends to be coolly religious, either RC or C of E. He dislikes modern architecture. He makes a great fuss about the old Prayer Book, grammar, syntax and punctuation. He laments the difficulty of purchasing good bread, Cheddar cheese, kippers and sausages.... He enjoys walking and travelling by train. He thinks the Times is not what it was and prefers the Daily Telegraph.’

There was a significant sartorial element to the Young Fogey. Dr Casey remembers the architectural historian Gavin Stamp matriculating at Cambridge in 1968, at the height of the Paris Revolution, wearing ‘tall collars, very wide lapels and double-breasted waistcoats’. And that fed in turn into Dr Stamp’s architectural interests and the emphasis on High Victoriana — the books on Alexander ‘Greek’ Thomson, George Gilbert Scott junior and the late Gothic Revival.

But it wasn’t just clothes that defined the movement. ‘Roger Scruton had a strong architectural Young Fogey reaction,’ says Dr Casey, ‘but he never followed the sartorial line.’

The Young Fogeys were also concerned with gentle and gentlemanly attitudes. ‘I thought that was more striking than their way of dressing — a genuine idea of gentlemanliness,’ Dr Casey continues. ‘Oliver Letwin wasn’t a Young Fogey when it came to clothes. But at Cambridge he had that gentlemanly air that he still has; that I think goes down very well.’

For a while, the Young Fogey ruled. ‘Everyone went mad,’ recalls Alan Watkins. ‘The fierce Veronica Wadley [now the editor of the London Evening Standard], even then a power in middle-market journalism, declared that for the moment she was interested only in articles about Young Fogeys. I was asked to write a book about them, to be called The Official Young Fogey Handbook.’

Mr Watkins declined, but the Telegraph journalist Suzanne Lowry did end up writing a book on the subject. And for a while after, the Young Fogey had his time in the sun (always the English sun; foreign holidays were not for him). There were buttressing forces at work. The 1981 television adaptation of Brideshead Revisited reverberated in slowly declining waves for more than a decade. When I was at Oxford in the early Nineties, it was still working its effects through a regular crop of about 30 undergraduates a year, who had been 10-year-olds when it was first shown and had been knocked sideways by it, much as other 10-year-olds were overwhelmed by catching the Sex Pistols in 1977 or would be overwhelmed by Michael Jackson’s Thriller, which came out the year after Brideshead.

Seersucker jackets, plovers’ eggs, wind-up gramophones on purple velvet cushions in punts — these were the toys of some of my contemporaries as late as 1993.

‘I had a four-piece light-green tweed suit — without trousers — made when I was at Oxford,’ says Richard De Moravia, 34, now a media lawyer. ‘With a flat cap, jacket, waistcoat and a cloak lined in bright gold. The tailor wanted to make it a five-piece by making me some tweed spats. I thought that was too much.’

Daniel Hannan, at Oxford at the same time and now MEP for South-East England, marvels at some of the lengths the Young Fogeys went to. ‘One particularly recherché affectation was to use old constituency names; so instead of saying Mid-Staffs or South-East Staffs, they’d say “Lichfield, Rugely and Stone†or “Tamworthâ€. A similar thing today, which I admit I’m rather in favour of, is consciously to convert all prices into the pre-euro currencies when travelling in Europe. But I think it’s all in decline now. Fish need water to swim in. To sustain a few people with silver-topped canes and monocles, you need a critical mass in cords and shiny brogues.’

There’s hardly a teddy bear or a bottle of Madeira between the undergraduates at Oxford now. When I returned there at the end of last term, on a boiling hot summer’s day, there wasn’t a single boater to be seen.

Look in vain round St James’s these days for the etiolated 30-year-old making his way from London Library to Georgian terrace home in Islington, sniffing the evening air for incense seeping under the doorway of All Saints, Margaret Street: ‘Decidedly north German in effect — strong whiff of the Marienkirche at Lübeck, don’t you think? Or maybe Freiburg im Breisgau.’

He’s gone for good.

John Casey, the original target of Mr Watkins and Mr Kilmartin (‘I didn’t mind. I thought it was amusing’), agrees. ‘There are a few undergraduate Young Fogeys left at Cambridge, but any organised body of sentiment attached to the ceremony of life has gone.’

The Young Fogey had looked as though he’d last much longer than a decade. He was certainly robustly built to withstand the buffeting of the years, with his thick, thornproof tweed jacket, matched with a waistcoat — pronounced ‘westkit’ — the bushy mutton-chop whiskers lovingly cropped at Trumper’s, doused in pomade and bordered by baby-pink skin shaved with badger-hair brushes, shaving soap and cut-throat razors.

Why has he gone? It’s not that Britain is no longer fogeyish or that the institutions the YF took to — the National Trust, Latin Masses, the Georgian Society — have disappeared; they’re flourishing. Gentlemen’s clubs are as difficult to get into as they have ever been. ‘The waiting list for the Garrick is eight years’ long,’ says a spokesman for the club. If you walk down Pall Mall, you’ll see a huge glossy poster that spans the full façade of the RAC Club showing its Turkish baths in all their newly refurbished beauty. Croquet is as popular as it has ever been since its heyday just before the first world war. The Daily Telegraph does a brisk trade in boxed DVD sets of Brideshead Revisited and The Forsyte Saga. And more children now attend public school than ever before.

That very success killed off the Young Fogey. Like the SDP wilting after its great triumph — forcing the modernisation of the Labour party — there’s nothing left for the Young Fogey to fight for. ‘It was a rebel movement,’ says Dr Casey, one that developed in reaction to the naked materialism, the blurring of class boundaries and the boxy, square-shouldered, belted suit of the early Eighties.

‘It was a reaction to bohemianism, too,’ says Craig Brown, the satirist. ‘People are much more work-based now. Then there were many more people being bohemians, and the Young Fogeys took against them. I noticed the other day when I was dropping my daughter off at Marlborough, the children all seemed conventional. They all looked the same and were thinking about what jobs they were going to do.’

The in-yer-face, ‘I love 1830’ Young Fogey spirit — as vigorous in its way as the Club 18-30 spirits of the Faliraki partygoers — had to disappear once everybody came round to its way of thinking: to buying Regency rectories, coating them with National Trust paint combinations and taking holidays in Landmark Trust follies.

‘I joined the Travellers’ Club at a very young age as a sort of rebellious gesture,’ says Craig Brown. ‘And I suddenly got worried that I’d got to the stage where I had become the real thing, so I gave up my membership. It was the same sort of thing with A.N. Wilson — no one could ever call him conventional.’

The Young Fogey was as cut off and contrary as the Millwall fan. The hooligan’s cry — ‘Nobody likes us, we don’t care’ — might just as well have applied to the Edwardian-suited architectural historian of 1984. When the public started to love him — and even imitate him — he had to shuffle out of his Huntsman suit and head for Armani, perhaps mournfully fishing a frozen mini-Mars out of the T.M. Lewin fridge on his way over.

----------------------

Many thanks for the post. This paragraph in particular prompted a sigh of agreement:

"But it is Mr Watkins who put flesh — and tweed — on the skeleton. As he wrote in his Spectator piece, the Young Fogey ‘is libertarian but not liberal. He is conservative but has no time for Mrs Margaret Thatcher and considers Mr Neil Kinnock the most personally attractive of the present party leaders. He is a scholar of Evelyn Waugh. He tends to be coolly religious, either RC or C of E. He dislikes modern architecture. He makes a great fuss about the old Prayer Book, grammar, syntax and punctuation. He laments the difficulty of purchasing good bread, Cheddar cheese, kippers and sausages.... He enjoys walking and travelling by train. He thinks the Times is not what it was and prefers the Daily Telegraph.’"

The American version of the "young fogey" differs a bit from the British version; still, the same idea is at work. The reaction against (response to) "bohemianism" is also right on the mark. Right on.

Again, thanks for posting.

Cheers,
Harris

That is why I linked to "Albion's Seed"; that is a goodway of gauging just how much it differs or deviates from the British version.


"Each of these four folk established an amazingly enduring culture in their region, a culture that successfully incorporated later immigrants from other origins who shared little or none of the dominant folkway that had become established in their new home. Their contrasting concepts of liberty are among the most visible today. The Puritan concept of liberty, "ordered liberty" in Fischer's terminology, focused on the "freedom" to conform to the policies of the Puritan Church and local government. The Virginia concept of liberty, "hegemonic liberty", was hierarchical in nature, ranging from the great freedom of those in positions of power and wealth down to the total lack of freedom accorded to slaves. The Quaker concept of liberty, "reciprocal liberty", focused on the aspects of freedom that were held equally by all people as opposed to the unequal and asymmetric freedoms of the Puritans and Virginians. Finally, the Scotch-Irish concept of liberty, "natural liberty", focused on the natural rights of the individual and his freedom from government coercion-- Mostly Presbyterian but a tiny minority Anglican for the last group there.


https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0195069056/

"

Historian Walter Russell Mead recently proposed his own fourway division of Americans in terms of their foreign policy orientations. He divided Americans up into isolationist Jeffersonians, commercial Hamiltonians, moralistic Wilsonians, and aggressive Jacksonians. (every single one of those men were of Scots descent).


"In addition, in 1429 Scots came to the aid of Joan of Arc in her famous relief of Orléans; many went on to form the Garde Écossaise, the fiercely-loyal bodyguard of the French monarchy. Many Scottish mercenaries chose to settle in France, although they continued to consider themselves "Scots"."

Of course New Orleans exists in America (USA) and has a French population as well which explains "cajun".

The French and Indian War is the American name for the decisive nine-year conflict (1754-1763) in North America between the Kingdom of Great Britain and France, which was one of the theatres of the Seven Years' War. The war resulted in France's loss of all its possessions in North America except for some Caribbean islands and Saint-Pierre and Miquelon, two small islands off Newfoundland. The British acquired Canada while Spain gained Louisiana in compensation for its loss of Florida to the British.
 

n/a

Senior Member
Should you become curious about a fine portrayal of the American "young fogey" in action, turn your attention to Whit Stillman's film "Metropolitan." There's a trinity of characters who, hypostatically combined, represent the (American) "young fogey" species. The three characters (Nick Smith, Tommy, and Charlie) merge to serve as the paragon of (American) "young fogey." They lament the passing of quality habits, people, and manners from bygone days, and they fear a future without them. They are proudly old-fashioned, and, in their conservative (reactionary?) attempt to preserve and protect time-tested way of life, their vulnerability to change is revealed.

Cheers,
Harris
 
quote:Originally posted by Harris

Should you become curious about a fine portrayal of the American "young fogey" in action, turn your attention to Whit Stillman's film "Metropolitan." There's a trinity of characters who, hypostatically combined, represent the (American) "young fogey" species. The three characters (Nick Smith, Tommy, and Charlie) merge to serve as the paragon of (American) "young fogey." They lament the passing of quality habits, people, and manners from bygone days, and they fear a future without them. They are proudly old-fashioned, and, in their conservative (reactionary?) attempt to preserve and protect time-tested way of life, their vulnerability to change is revealed.

Cheers,
Harris


What vulnerability and passing exactly ? Whatever vulnerability and passing you may have thought you saw praxeologically or experienced was a mere false illusion of your cognitive apparatus and nothing more :

Kant demonstrated that the world we experience is not the real world. That world does not embody our species’ concepts of space, time, and causality. We perceive things through a scaffolding of three-dimensional space, in a tense of past-present-future, and within a framework of casual connections. As an 18th century philosopher would not have known, but 20th century physics has confirmed, these constructs are not even a component of the world that we can describe mathematically and measure with special instruments. Newtonian concepts of space and time do not apply to the macro world of special and general relativity or to the micro world of quantum mechanics. The real world is something altogether different from what we human beings experience and measure. Kant concludes that the deepest level of reality is inaccessible to human thought and knowledge. He terms the ultimate, rock bottom reality – of "things as they are in themselves" – that underlies the perceived world the Noumenon.


There are, in addition, Biblical elements: there are Biblical passages in which the word of Yhwh is regarded as a power acting independently and existing by itself, as Isa. lv. 11 (comp. Matt. x. 13; Prov. xxx. 4); these ideas were further developed by later Judaism in the doctrines of the Divine Word creating the world, the divine throne-chariot and its cherub, the divine splendor and its shekinah, and the name of God as well as the names of the angels; and Philo borrowed from all these in elaborating his doctrine of the Logos. He calls the Logos the "archangel of many names," "taxiarch" (corps-commander), the "name of God," also the "heavenly Adam" (comp. "De Confusione Linguarum," § 11 [i. 411]), the "man, the word of the eternal God."

The Logos is also designated as "high priest," in reference to the exalted position which the high priest occupied after the Exile as the real center of the Jewish state. The Logos, like the high priest, is the expiator of sins, and the mediator and advocate for men: ("Quis Rerum Divinarum Heres Sit," § 42 [i. 501]), and ; ("De Vita Mosis," iii. 14 [ii. 155]).

In accord with this ontology, the Stoics, like the Epicureans, make God material. But while the Epicureans think the gods are too busy being blessed and happy to be bothered with the governance of the universe, the Stoic God is immanent throughout the whole of creation and directs its development down to the smallest detail. God is identical with one of the two ungenerated and indestructible first principles (archai) of the universe. One principle is matter which they regard as utterly unqualified and inert. It is that which is acted upon. God is identified with an eternal reason (logic)(logos, Diog. Laert. 44B )








"

In 6.13 Wittgenstein says: "Logic is not a doctrine, but a mirror image of the world. Logic is transcendental.

1.1

The world is the totality of facts, not of things.


We could present spatially an atomic fact which contradicted the laws of physics, but not one which contradicted the laws of geometry.

I.E Michio Kaku's concept predestination as a fourth dimensional pattern in hyperspace predetermined and your life is just your soul moving through it :








2 What is the case, the fact, is the existence of atomic facts (Sachverhalten).

2.01 An atomic fact (Sachverhalt) is a combination of objects (entities, things).


2. What is the case—a fact—is the existence of states of affairs.

2.01 A state of affairs (a state of things) is a combination of objects (things).

2.0121
It would seem to be a sort of accident, if it turned out that a situation would fit a thing that could already exist entirely on its own. If things can occur in states of affairs, this possibility must be in them from the beginning. (Nothing in the province of logic can be merely possible. Logic deals with every possibility and all possibilities are its facts.) Just as we are quite unable to imagine spatial objects outside space or temporal objects outside time, so too there is no object that we can imagine excluded from the possibility of combining with others. If I can imagine objects combined in states of affairs, I cannot imagine them excluded from the possibility of such combinations.

2.0251
Space, time, colour (being coloured) are forms of objects.

2.023
Objects are just what constitute this unalterable form.

2.0231
The substance of the world can only determine a form, and not any material properties. For it is only by means of propositions that material properties are represented--only by the configuration of objects that they are produced.

2.026
There must be objects, if the world is to have unalterable form.

2.027
Objects, the unalterable, and the subsistent are one and the same.

2.0271
Objects are what is unalterable and subsistent; their configuration is what is changing and unstable.


2.0272
The configuration of objects produces states of affairs.

2.03
In a state of affairs objects fit into one another like the links of a chain.

2.031
In a state of affairs objects stand in a determinate relation to one another.

2.032
The determinate way in which objects are connected in a state of affairs is the structure of the state of affairs.

2.033
Form is the possibility of structure.

2.034
The structure of a fact consists of the structures of states of affairs.

2.04
The totality of existing states of affairs is the world.


The totality of true propositions is the whole of natural science..." (Tractatus, translated by D.F. Pears & B.F. McGuinness, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1961 & 1972, §4.11)





"



"Philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language." --
Ludwig Wittgenstein

"Philosophy could turn within, seeking an understanding of human behavior, of ethics and morality, of motivation, and responses. Or it might turn outside to an investigation of the universe beyond the intangible wall of the mind - an investigation, in short of nature.

Those philosophers who turned toward the second alternative were the natural philosophers, and for many centuries after the palmy days of the Greeks the study of the phenomena of nature continued to be called natural philosophy. The modern word that is used in its place - science, from a Latin word meaning "to know" did not come into use until well into the 19th century. Even today the highest university degree given for achievement in the sciences is generally that of "Doctor of Philosophy".

The word "natural" is of latin derivation, so the term "natural philosophy" stems half from the Latin and half from the Greek a combination usually frowned on by purists. The Greek word for natural is physikos , so one might more precisely speak of "physical philosophy" to describe what we now call science. " -- Isaac Asimov

physikos = physicos = physics



Hard and soft science :

1.) Lockean (John Locke) -- empirical, agreement on observations or data, truth is experiential and does not rest on any theoretical considerations.

2.) Leibnitzian (see Wittgenstein's use of truth tables in the Tractatus for an example) :

"p,x, N(x,)]
where:
p stands for all atomic propositions.
x, stands for any set of propositions.
N(x,) stands for the negation of all the propositions making up x.

5.101 The truth-functions of a given number of elementary propositions can always be set out in a schema of the following kind:

"

leibniz.gif



Formal model, theoretical explaination, truth is analytic and does not rest on raw data from an external world.

3.) Kantian (Noumenal and Phenonemonal states of affairs) --- theoretical model and empirical data complement each other and are inseperable, truth is synthesis, multiple models provide synergism.
 

SmartDresser

New Member
However, class as a set of mannerisms, beliefs, and circumstances, does still exist.
Every person in this world should be judged by their actions, not who their parents are. To do otherwise is folly.


[/quote]
Thanks, Ice. I was thinking I had no place in this thread. During the day, I met hundreds of people and get to know them despite where they live or who were their parents. Manners, consideration and passion, these traits make our world better.
 
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