world on his shoulders

As sometimes happens, the chat you were having about poems and poets led to a dispersal of the crowd. Some folks just don’t know what to do with themselves when literary criticism raises it’s head. No matter, a new circle has coalesced and the conversation has wound its way through to The Biggest Loser. Naturally enough, that has partygoers hypothesizing on the weight of various people and objects, from Kirstie Alley to the Washington Monument. There have been quite a few witty comparisons dropped here and there, and one fellow has decided that the weight of the host’s ego may well rival that of the Earth. Well well, you might, in this comment, see a point at which to drop a bit of proverbial knowledge.

Don't mess with this guy. He's a scientist.

It just so happens that the Earth was weighed for the first time in the 1700s by a recluse called Henry Cavendish. The Cavendishes were a rather impressive bunch. Not only was Henry’s grandfather the Duke of Devonshire, but his family is responsible for three centuries worth of patronage for British science, and for a not insignificant number of scientific achievements. Henry discovered hydrogen, though he called it “inflammable air,” and a member of his family would later establish the world renown Cavendish Labs.

But enough about that, I mentioned him weighing the world. The story actually starts with Cavendish realizing that Mason and Dixon’s measurements for their line (yes, that one) were slightly off, and he hypothesized that their plumb lines were being pulled out of whack by the Allegheny mountains. So, under his direction, a couple of fellows from the Royal Society went up to a mountain in Scotland called Schiehallion and measured how much the mountain distorted the drop of their plumb line from various sides. With that information in hand, they made an estimate as to the density of the mountain, and through it, that of the Earth, along with it’s weight. However, Cavendish didn’t think their work was up to snuff. He continued to play with the idea, and, at the age 67, he started a set of experiments that wound up providing the measure of the gravitational constant, G. Not bad for a man that spent all day in his basement playing with bunson burners, ey? So, let’s see…

Careful, now, don't shrug.

“Good luck finding a scale large enough to measure that. Though, I guess we could play Henry Cavendish and measure the weight of his ego based on its effect on others in the room? Might take a bit of watching, but we could probably get pretty close, especially if he keeps talking to Jean-Claude over there. The two of them together could probably tip an elephant.”

Ok, so you didn’t really get through all the intricacies of Cavendish’s achievement, but you did a very nice job.

your name is?

Another day, another party, huh? Well, good for you for not letting the ending of the last one get you down. Remember, this is a numbers game, and a charm game, also, a game of conversation and tolerance for alcohol. Really, it’s quite complex, so practice is in your best interest.

Emmentaler, not swiss

This looks promising, well lit, the well stocked bar, and a waiter just walked past with a selection of cheeses not limited to cheddar and emmentaler (though nothing wrong with those cheeses, in fact, they are quite delicious). In any case, you walk up to the bar, order a gin and tonic, and then spot a friend of yours loosely associated with a circle of attractive young women. Feel free to approach.

As you do so, see if you can pick up on the particulars of the conversation before you actually join in. Remember to look for an opening.

“Ignatious Riley is easily my favorite fictional name.” Says someone whose name you think might be Jeanne based on an introduction several months ago. This is as good a place as any. Pat your friend on the back and interject: “Agreed, great name. I recently came across a better one, though, and it’s real: Theophilus Shepstone.”

Theophilus’s parents clearly knew he was destined for some minor greatness when they named him. Did they know he would spend thirty years as the director of native policy in Natal (a British colony in South Africa), where he would allow the colonized to maintain their local customs, thereby avoiding all but one rebellion throughout his entire tenure? Or that he would be the one who was entrusted to annex Transvaal with the help of twenty five mounted policemen? Or, that his close relations with the Zulu nation, and the shifts in his policies towards them and the betrayal they felt therein helped precipitate the Anglo-Zulu War of 1879? Probably not, but, still and all, there you have it.

The man in question was quit e a natty dresser, it seems

Of course, all that is something of a mouthful, so you might just limit yourself to: “Though I suppose the British had lots of high-falutin’ names back in the 1800s. Still, Theophilus is a good one, and he accomplished quite a bit in British South Africa.”

As a first foray of the night, not too bad.