200-Year-Old Ship Found in Mud at Ground Zero

A recent find at Ground Zero has workers abuzz but in a good way.

Construction workers digging below street level in Manhattan to build a memorial to the victims of the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001 have found the hull and other remains of a ship that looks to have been buried as junk more than 200 years ago. One of the pieces is 32 feet long. Both pieces are being treated with extreme care because their sudden exposure to oxygen, after a couple of centuries of preservation in mud, has accelerated their decomposition. In the meantime, workers have been busily photographing and measuring the remains, so that research can continue in the event that the pieces of wood well and truly fall apart.

Archaeologists have discovered other evidence of human presence, including pieces of shoes and a 100-pound iron anchor.

Historians say this kind of ship was used in the 1700s but was probably not a ship of choice by the time it was sunk, likely to serve as support for a southern expansion of landfill making up the boundaries of Manhattan. (A ship sunk for similar purposes was discovered nearby in 1982.)

Still unknown: what kind of wood has been found, how old the ship really is, and whether the ship sailed in the Caribbean (as one historian thinks likely, based on remains of marine life discovered attached to the wood).

Construction continues in the area, as workers build the set of large buildings set to replace the World Trade Center and function as a memorial. The discovery of the ship has been a highlight amid the mixed reactions to the decision to rebuild on the Trade Center site and also a reminder that the area was a center of commerce long before 1973, when the Trade Center was unveiled to the world.

Leonardo Painting Termed a Solo Effort After All

Ah, modern technology. We curse it sometimes; other times, it can tell us something quite extraordinary that we might not otherwise realize.

Such is the case with the latest news out of the U.K. National Gallery, which has announced that experts believe that Leonardo painted the famed Virgin of the Rocks all by himself.

What's the big deal? Well, up until now, acute analysis of the painting has convinced experts that the variance in brush strokes and finality of shapes and structures meant that assistants had helped Leonardo with this one. But recent restoration has revealed more evidence in favor of the sole painter theory, especially given Leonardo's penchant for leaving things unfinished, as if he always had another element to add. (Is the Mona Lisa unfinished? Film at 11.)

The National Gallery is in the final stages of a 18-month restoration project. Among the other findings was a wider range of tone in the late-15th Century painting.

Also strengthening the claim is a 2005 finding from an infrared scan revealing a pair of unfinished drawings virtually hidden under what we know as the surface layer; one of these drawings provided proof that Leonardo indeed kept changing his mind as he painted.

All of this is, of course, right in line with the master's "sfumato" technique, which created, among other things, elements of illusion in the artworks. "Sfumato" is derived from sfumare, which is Italian for "to evaporate like smoke."

The London painting is one of two versions of this particular masterpiece. The earlier version hangs in the Louvre.

Purveyors of pop culture will remember that this painting featured in Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code.

Newly Unearthed Old Kingdom Tombs Yield Brilliant Colors

A new round of excitement is thrilling archaeologists in Egypt, after the showing off of photos from a newly unearthed set of Old Kingdom tombs. Specifically, the twin tombs originally contained the last resting places of a father and son who were in charge of the royal scribes. (We know this because of the hieroglyphs found on the walls and false doors of the tombs.)

Zahi Hawass, the most well-known and most senior at the Department of Antiquities, made good use of the media by unveiling the vivid colors found in the drawings on the false doors. One door contained an inscription with the name of Pepi II, a pharaoh whose time on the throne was Egypt's longest, at nearly a hundred years.

Nearby is the famed Step Pyramid of King Djoser, itself surrounded by a large burial ground. Archaeological teams began digging in the area three years ago and have unearthed six tombs so far.

Sadly, the two most recently unearthed tombs had poorly kept interior remains. The tomb of the son, Khonsu, was the victim of robbery ages ago. His father, Shendwas, fared no better, as his sarcophagus had fallen victim to one of ancient Egypt's sharpest foes in the struggle for immortality: humidity.

Hawass and others are hopeful that this is only the beginning.

Cutting the Gordian Knot: Alexander at His Creative Best

One of the many apocryphal stories about Alexander the Great is his solving of the problem of the Gordian Knot. In true Alexander fashion, he found his own solution to a problem that had vexed all before him.

An intricate knot was used by a man named Gordius to secure his oxcart. This man was a peasant who came to Phrygia in an oxcart. An oracle had told the Phyrgians that their next king would arrive in a wagon. The oxcart was good enough for them, and they made Gordius king. He responded by offering his oxcart to Zeus and tying the cart up with a difficult knot. Gordius was succeeded by Midas, who didn't leave an heir. The same oracle who had spoken before now told the people that whoever untied the knot would have the rule of all Asia.

It was quite the puzzle, this knot. Many men had tried to untie it; none had succeeded. So Alexander, no stranger to puzzles (having studied under the great Aristotle) and wanting to make a name for himself in this part of the world, announced that he would solve this puzzle.

Not much is known about how much Alexander examined or prodded the knot. The knot was, after all, tied to an oxcart and in full view of everyone around it, so it's unlikely that Alexander had any chance to do anything other than what he did to solve the puzzle.

For solve the puzzle he did. He untied the knot by cutting it with his sword! Faced with a problem whose solution had eluded a great many men, Alexander changed the rules and found his own way forward — a strategy that epitomized his entire career and very way of thinking. He reached the ends but by means other than what was expected.

What was it about this knot that had so vexed the brave and clever before Alexander? It was certainly a puzzle, this knot that looked like it had no ends. How could one possibly untie a knot that had nowhere to start untying? Surely many men had left, shaking their heads, after trying in vain to get the knot undone.

But Alexander was different. He was brash. He was self-confident. He was extremely intelligent. He had a keen sense of the possible, even in the face of seemingly impossibility and overwhelming odds against him. He saw what others did not, believed what others would not, succeeded where others could not.

Alexander saw through the way the problem was presented, beyond the "rules" that said one had to use one's hands and wits and seize the knot by the ends in order to untie it. Rather than try what others had, Alexander forged a new path, succeeding where everyone else had failed.

Was this a technicality? Probably. Technically, Alexander did untie the knot. After he cut it with his sword, the knot was easily enough untied.

Did he fulfill the prophecy foretold by the oracle? He most certainly did. Alexander and his loyal men conquered more territory than anyone before him (and many since) and stretched the boundaries of what Greek minds would know as "the known world" far beyond the imaginations of the time. His boldness, courage, and vision got him there — the same skills that enabled him to see through the trap of trying to untie the knot in the conventional way and find a way to achieve the end by different means.

In recent years, historians have come to doubt the veracity of this story, either its elements or its entirety. Whether the oracle element was around in Alexander's lifetime or whether it was invented later for convenience is really neither here nor there. In fact, whether Alexander actually cut the knot at all is probably neither here nor there. For the real lesson in all of this is not whether the events really happened but, rather, what the events demonstrate about Alexander, his character, his vision, and his accomplishments. We know a lot about Alexander the Great, thanks in large part to several prominent biographers who lived in his lifetime. We have lots of facts about him and his reign and his battlefield acumen. We know a lot about his vision and his temperament and his extraordinary luck, on the battlefield and off. This story most certainly illustrates a character that we are already familiar with — the bold Alexander, trading a solution for stagnation, a new way of thinking for tired persistence in the face of continual defeat.

If Alexander didn't cut the Gordian Knot, he should have.

Hi-tech Imaging Reveals 'Edit' in Declaration of Independence

It's like something out of a recent Nicolas Cage movie, except no one was hurt in the process.

Out of the Library of Congress comes word that new high-tech science has revealed proof of a word change that Thomas Jefferson made while writing the Declaration of Independence.

By using a hi-res digital camera on an early draft of the Declaration (wonderfully preserved, of course), preservation scientists at the Library of Congress have uncovered stunning proof that Jefferson made a word change. How do we know this after all these years? The digital camera, through a technique called hyperspectral imaging, showed one word underneath another.

The Declaration of Independence includes an extensive list of grievances that the American colonists had against King George III of England. Toward the end of this list, Jefferson makes reference to the British captive of capturing American sailors and forcing them to fight against their American countrymen.

As it reads now, this grievance begins: "He has constrained our fellow citizens taken captive on the high seas to bear arms against their country …"

The key word in that sentence is citizens. In the earlier draft examined by the Library of Congress, Jefferson used the word subjects, which has an altogether different connotation. A subject acknowledges sovereignty of someone else; a citizen, on the other hand, considers his membership in a society independent of that society's ruler, particularly a monarch.

The Declaration of Independence makes very clear that many Americans in the late 18th Century considered themselves already independent from Great Britain. Stunned by a series of severe taxes, the colonists on the eastern seaboard of North America revolted, crying out for the right of taxation without representation, self-government, and other "inalienable rights." Jefferson's words in the Declaration were a clear representation of those sentiments and dearly held beliefs.

The scientists at the Library of Congress were very safe in their handling of Jefferson's early draft, exposing it to air only as long as necessary and making sure that it was transferred back and forth from lab to resting place under armed guard. And, in photos they revealed to the world, there was clear evidence of Jefferson's "live edit," a wipeout of one word and replacement with another — two words that were at once close in meaning yet worlds apart in interpretation.

Waterloo: Predictor of Alliances Future?

All too often in history, enemies end up as allies. It takes more time for some alliances to form.

Such is the case with the nations of Europe, now united as never before in the European Union (well, most of them are in there anyway). These nations share a common currency, their borders are relaxed, the Iron Curtain has fallen and with it the threat of mutual assured destruction (at least from the Soviet Union, which isn't exactly living and breathing any longer). They do squabble amongst themselves, especially over who else to let into the club, but they do swap the EU leadership around and they do present a real economic powerhouse on the global market stage.

Many people in Europe were in mind of alliances recently in Belgium — in Waterloo, to be precise, at a re-enactment of the famous battle fought there in 1815. This, as many good students of history will remember, was the final defeat of Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte of France, he of the mammoth military reputation an intellect whose best-paid plans went for nought when the heavens opened up and muddied the field and Prussian reinforcements arrived just in time to help the Duke of Wellington complete his triumph. Every year, tens of thousands of people arrive at Waterloo, not only to remember the events of the day (June 18 it was) but also to don the uniforms, fire the guns, mount the horses, and otherwise participate in a replay of one of the most famous battles in European military history. (Sadly for fans of the great Napoleon, it ends the same way no matter how many people take part in no matter how many re-enactments.)

Napoleon, a symbol of the French Revolution somehow turned into Empire, was the giant of the age, bending other world leaders (and their armies) to his whim, reinventing the French legal system (and many countries still build their laws on his revisions), and otherwise bringing more glory to France than anyone possibly before him or since. A shrewd tactician and brilliant politician, he willed his men to victory on the battlefield, sometimes against spectacular odds. (Indeed, Wellington is famous for saying of Napoleon: "His presence on the field made the difference of forty thousand men."

One thing Napoleon was good at as well was uniting people against him. The English hated him, not only because of what he represented — at first a representative government and later a more successful monarch than many kings and queens of England — but also a rival to English hegemony over the Continent. All of the Grand Alliances against France in the late 18th and early 19th Centuries were spurred on by England and its hatred of Napoleon.

The Emperor made mistakes, of course, and often did little to endear the leaders and populaces of other countries to his or France's causes. He was successful, however, at uniting most of Europe under his sway at one time or another. The Confederation of the Rhine and the Continental System are examples of that. Neither, however, included England; both, it can be said, eventually angered the people of Central and southern Europe — not to mention England.

And so it came to be that England convinced more and more European leaders and armies to unite with England against Napoleon. The Battle of Waterloo featured a grand coalition, formed in reaction to the Hundred Days, and so it was that nearly equal numbers of French troops fought against British, German, and Dutch troops until tens of thousands of Prussians arrived and turned the tide. In its wake, Waterloo left a powerful mark on the alliance structure of Europe.

A century later, World War I would start and inflame so quickly mainly because of "entanglements," mutual defense treaties signed by various countries to protect against the aggression of other countries. Similar alignments could be found involving the combatants of World War II and the Korean and Vietnam Wars. More recently, European nations worked together to oust Iraq from Kuwait and to stop genocide in Bosnia.

Is this a straight line from Waterloo to today? Probably not. A hundred years on, the hard feelings on both sides of the battlefield have lessened somewhat, as generations pass on to generations the lessons not only of war and statesmanship but also forgiveness and seeing the big picture.

It is that big picture that features in European thinking today, even on the battlefield of an epic struggle that defined an age. And it is that big picture that is embraced by the tens of thousands of people who come to Waterloo to fight and remember. These people who show up year after year (and they may be the same people from year to year or they may not) come from all over Europe and, indeed, all over the world. The re-enactors choose their sides out of interest not so much out bloodlust. The spectators revel in the global nature of it all, as should we all.

No Party on Bastille Day? Storm the Gates in Protest!

Is nothing sacred?

What's wrong with spending a wad of cash on history, anyway? Surely if we don't remember the past, we're doomed to repeat it.

Yet the French will this year not get their traditional garden party to commemorate the storming of the Bastille. Sacre bleu! What will they do with all that cake? Who's going to eat it?

Seriously, this is probably a good thing, since the big party last year cost more than 700,000 euros. A full 300,000 of that was on food alone. Now that's a lot of cake! The party was so big and the people were so revelrous that the cleanup cost 80,000 euros.

(Don't worry, though: the usual military parade will take place, with soldiers marching down the Champs-Elysees and fighter jets flying overhead. The cost of putting on that event is much lower by comparison.)

So 700,000 euros is a lot of cash back in the coffers for the French elite — sorry, government. And that's a good thing, right? Surely the French government can find better ways to spend that money than on food and drink and party favors and cleanup. After all, the government has announced that it would have to cut the deficit by 100 billion euros during the next three years. So the few hundred thousand euros that they're saving are just a drop in a bucket that needs to get a bunch of billion euros taken out of it.

But back to the cake. So the party commemorates Bastille Day, which was the day in 1789 that a mob stormed the notorious prison the Bastille and released some prisoners, grabbing a few weapons at the same time. This event is generally regarded as one of the seminal ones in the French Revolution, which was a reaction to, among other things, the attitude by the French aristocracy and monarchy that supposedly included Marie Antoinette's supposedly saying "Let them eat cake."

That story, although apocryphal, has generally turned out to be believed false — more an error in translation than anything else. But no matter what she said or didn't say, she wasn't at all in touch with the reality of the people on the ground, starving through their lives, while her head was in the clouds.

Which brings us back to the present day. Nicolas Sarkozy, the President of France, took the bold step of canceling this lavish Bastille Day party, and he should be commended for that, not the least because it saves all that money for other things. But a hundred billion euros is a ton of money no matter the currency, and it's going to take more than canceling parties here and there (no matter how lavish) to address those kinds of financial problems. When it comes time to make further cuts, the government might wish it could throw a party &151; a circus to distract the populace from the reality that they lack real money for things like bread (or cake).