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July is named for Julius Caesar, the Roman emperor who introduced the Julian calendar in 45 BC after consulting with the astronomer Sosigenes of Alexandria. In the course of revamping the calendar, Caesar renamed the month Quintilis for himself (Iulius) and lengthened it by two days. Thirty-seven years later his great nephew Augustus, not to be outdone by Uncle Julius, renamed the following month, Sextilis, for himself (Augustus) and extended it to 31 days as well.
The Caesars put their names on a lot of things in addition to the months of the year, including the now defunct positions of Kaiser and Czar in Germany and Russia, respectively. Julius Caesar also named cities and territories for himself in conquered lands throughout Europe and Asia Minor. One of these was the island of Caesarea in the English Channel, the name of which gradually evolved into Jersey over the years.
During the English Civil War the Vice Governor of the Isle of Jersey was Sir George Carteret, who remained loyal to the Crown while the rest of England was under the control of the Puritans. Following the restoration of the monarchy in 1660, Sir George was rewarded with a big piece of real estate in North America called Nuova Caesarea, or New Jersey. The town of Carteret (Exit 12 on the New Jersey Turnpike) is named in his honor.
Much of what I know about Julius Caesar I learned from Rev. Timothy Horner, who taught me Latin in the 1960s. Father Timothy, who is both an extremely alert reader (EAR) and an extremely erudite reader (EER), continues to find flaws in my writing today, just as he did more than 40 years ago. For example, it was he and he alone who pointed out that it was incorrect to use the adjective “Anacreonic” when referring to the Greek poet Anacreon. The preferred term is “Anacreontic.”
On one occasion Father Timothy teamed up with Brian Barry (who taught me calculus in high school) to reminisce about their respective experiences in the British Army and Royal Navy during the Second World War. Father Timothy, who had served as an army major in Burma, began by pointing out that it was the British army that had driven Caesar out of Britain after the British navy had failed miserably in stopping the invasion. Mr. Barry, the former naval officer, responded by changing the subject to the 16th century, when Britannia first began to rule the waves.
In all fairness to Father Timothy, he’s not the only British army veteran who has made uncomplimentary comments about the navy. Winston Churchill, for example, once made the scurrilous observation that the Royal Navy in the 18th century was ruled by “rum, sodomy, and the lash.” Whether the British military had a policy of “don’t ask, don’t tell” in the 1700s is a topic far too prurient to be addressed in The Growler. Grog and flogging, on the other hand, are worth considering.
“Old Grog” was the nickname of Admiral Edward Vernon, who was in the habit of wearing a heavy silk cloak called a grogram. He issued each of his sailors a daily ration consisting of a half-pint of rum and a quart of water. (The ration of rum was later increased to one pint per day.) Eventually the drink came to be known for the man who initially authorized it.
Flogging was traditionally done with a cat o’ nine tails, a whip with nine knotted cords attached to one handle. It earned its name because it left marks that looked like scratches from a cat. It was kept in a red baize bag and taken out only to administer punishment, a process that was known as letting the cat out of the bag. Sailors were subjected to the cat o’ nine tails for a variety of offenses, one of the more unusual instances occurring when Captain James Cook had some of his crew flogged for refusing to eat sauerkraut.
Cook’s justification was that scurvy was a major problem on ships in the 18th century, caused by a lack of fruit and vegetables in the sailors’ diets. Pickling cabbage, i.e. making it into sauerkraut, was a way of preserving it for long voyages. Unfortunately, seamen hated it and sometimes had to be threatened with the cat o’ nine tails before they would eat what was good for them.
With all due credit to Captain Cook, who was one of the greatest officers ever to serve in the Royal Navy, there’s a much more humane way to get people to eat sauerkraut, to wit, serving it with bratwursts and beer, which is what we’ve been doing at The Tap Room for almost 16 years. That beer actually complements and improves the taste of all kinds of foods is definitely worth keeping in mind, particularly during July, which has been designated American Beer Month.
This special month has added significance for us in 2007 because Schlafly is one of five breweries participating in The Beer Gazetteer, a lecture series sponsored by the Smithsonian. Any ERs, ARs or other beer aficionados who happen to be in Washington, DC in July should join the party at The Brickskeller, which is renowned for offering one of the largest selections of beer in the world.
Even if you aren’t able to be in our nation’s capital on the 16th, you can still celebrate American Beer Month wherever you are. As you do, I suggest a toast to Julius Caesar in gratitude for giving the month two extra days.
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