England: Tewkesbury

Tewkesbury Abbey is surely the most spectacular parish church in Britain! 

The abbey as we see it now was built by the early Norman kings in the 12th century

The manor of Tewkesbury was inherited in the early 14th century by Hugh le Despenser, the notorious favourite of king Edward II, who was brutally executed when the king was overthrown and murdered in 1347. Later, it was inherited by Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, known as "Warwick the Kingmaker" after he famously changed sides in the 15th  century Wars of the Roses bewteen the rival houses of York and Lancaster.  

The stained glass windows in the presbytry are 14th century, and according to tradition were given by Despenser's wife. 

 

Warwick was killed at Barnet in April 1431, and less than a month later the Lancastrian cause was catastrophically defeated at the battle of Tewkesbury.

The last abbot of Tewkesbury surrendered to the crown and the abbey was dissolved in January 1540. The intention was to destroy the buildings entirely, but enough money was raised to save the abbey chapel and turn it into the parish church. It was extensively renovated in the 19th century.

There is not a great deal to be seen of Tewkesbury battlefield, but the battle is commemorated in the town with a display of the banners of the lords and knights who fought there.

History/ Politics: How to respond to terrorism

This is the anniversary of the massacres in Israel in 2023, and we are witnessing the Israeli response. It is interesting to consider comparisons with not dissimilar outrages in the past.

After the New York Twin Towers were destroyed in 9/11, the Americans felt a similar outrage and an intense desire to do something in response, which led to the overthrow of the Taliban in Afghanistan. This has hardly turned out well, to say the least! Then, almost as an afterthought, it was decided to get rid of Saddam Hussain in Iraq too, thereby (though no-one seemed to think of this at the time) had the effect of getting rid of the Number One enemy of the Iranians; the consequences of which are still with us.

In summer 1914, the Austrian government was justifiably outraged by the murder of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir to the Austrian throne, and resolved to destroy the state of Serbia, which appeared to bear some responsibility for the killing. The result was the First World War, devastating much of Europe and preparing the ground for even more destruction in the Second.

By comparison, this is also the 40th anniversary of the Brighton bomb, when several people were killed or crippled and the I.R.A. came within an ace of killing Mrs Thatcher and her entire cabinet. It is interesting to see how the British government responded to this outrage - or, more pertinently, did NOT respond. We did NOT target the Sinn Fein leaders with assassination, did NOT shell the Bogside after ordering civilians to evacuate the area, and did NOT bomb I.R.A. bases in the Irish Republic. Looking back, I have wondered why not; and have come up with the following possible reasons for this restraint.

     It was believed that such actions would be morally wrong

     It was believed they would be politically counterproductive

     The Americans wouldn't have let us

     - and there is a fourth possible reason, whch I shall discuss later 

After the October 2023 massacre, by contrast, the Israelis did conclude that bombing of Gaza and Lebanon and the assassination of Hezbollah leaders was both morally right and strategically valuable, regardless of how many civilian casualties might result, and the Americans, after some initial doubts about the bombing, let them go ahead. At the time of writing, the bombing of Iraq looks likely to go ahead. This is where the fourth possible reason comes in, which is as follows:

    When all is said and done, the Irish are white people, whereas the Palestinians, Syrians and Iraquis are not. Surely no-one believes the Israelis could behave like this if they were attacking white people?(See also, how the Israelis will be permitted to bomb Iraq, whereas the Ukrainians are forbidden to bomb Russia)

Results of the contrasting policies: British restraint has led to peace in Ulster: Israeli responses look to continue war in the region for the foreseeable future. We can only hope that the long-term consequences do not resemble those of 1914.  

  

Wales: The Ladies of Llangollen

The "Ladies of Llangollen" were two Irish aristocrats, Lady Eleanor Butler and Sarah Ponsonby, who were determined to live together. In 1778 they escaped from their disapproving families and fled to north Wales, where they bought a cottage in charming scenery in the hills above Llangollen and lived there, along with their Irish servant Mary Caryll, until their deaths fifty years later. They extended the property, created a garden and a dairy, and collected old stained glass and oak panelling and carvings, which they stuck on every available space. They preferred to appear in public dressed entirely in black, like clergymen.

  The story of the Ladies had much appeal in the dawning age of Romanticism  Their renown spread far and wide: they were visited by a host of luminaries from Byron and Walter Scott to the Duke of Wellington, and Queen Charlotte persuaded King George III to grant them a government pension to relieve their debts. Whether they had an active lesbian relationship or were only close friends remains a matter of speculation. 

Their home, Plas Newydd, is open to the public and is well worth a visit!

England: The Unitarian chapel in Shrewsbury

 This building in Shrewsbury High Street is one of the few remaining Unitarian chapels in the couuntry.

Unitarians believe in God, but see Jesus as a moral example rather than a divine being. They were once a very influential sect, particularly important in scientific education, which was generally neglected by the main schools and universities in earlier centuries. Charles Darwin's family were Unitarians, and he would have worshipped here as a boy, as comemmorated by this memorial 

Inside, there is no altar; instead a pulpit for preaching takes the central place

On the wall above is the coat of arms of King George I. This is because the building was ransacked and seriously damaged by Jacobite rioters in 1715, and the King, who had only come to the throne in the previous year, ordered the town to rebuilt it at their own expense. One of the brass plates below it records how the poet Coleridge once preached here, and so impressed the congregation that he was offered a permanent salaried position - which, however, he turned down!    

Cricket: Women's Hundred 2024

 This is my fantasy team for the 2024 Women's Hundred (English players only), based on this year's competition:-

             Wyatt

             Dunkley

             Capsey

             Sciver-Brunt

             Knight (capt)

             Jones (wk)

             Arlott

            Smith

            Cross

            Glenn

            Davies

The first six selected themselves, but choosing the bowling attack involved far more difficult decisions than last year. How could I leave out Dean? But if I selected her, whom would she replace?

 If I included three international players, I would pick Wolvaardt to replace Dunkley, Ismael for Davies and either Kapp or Sharma for Arlott or Cross, depending on the likely state of the pitch. Now that really would be a world-beating team!

Philosophy: the origins of religion

 When humans first began to think in abstract terms (which must have been hundreds of thouands of years ago) they would see the world around them as a mysterious and frequently alarming place. What kept the heavens above them moving in such a stately progression, with the same constellations appearing year after year with the changing seasons, and the regular phases of the moon? But why was this regulaity occasionally interrupted? Why were there a few stars which behaved differently: sometimes present but moving backwards, often nowhere to be seen? (There were fve of these strange stars: they were called "wanderers": we call them planets). And why at, very irregular intervals, were there eclypses of the sun and moon, and comets streaking across the sky? On earth there were equally alarming events: lightning strikes, devastating floods or droughts, epidemic? 

  Then there were fundamental metaphysical or existential problems: the mysteries of life and death. Where did we come from? what happens to us after we die? what is the purpose of our lives? what is the significance of our dreams? and why are some people much luckier than others? These continue to puzzle us today!

  In attempting to answer these questions, religion, superstition and magic are intertwined, and for much of human history it is meaningless to attempt to separate them. Natural phenomena are now seen as being caused by physical forces, operating according to discoverable scientific laws (gravity, thermodynamics etc), but this has only been the case for the past few centuries. In earler times humans thought that the world was full of mysterious superhuman personalities: spirits, gods, or a single universal God; who were observing us, sending us messages and sitting in judgement over us. 

  It was, and still is in some quarters, a widespread belief that events "above" (that is, in the heavens) were in some way linked with events "below" (on earth). But how? Perhaps the heavenly bodies, especially unexpected events such as comets or eclypses, directly influenced what happened on earth? Or perhaps the gods, through this medium, were sending us messages; forewarning us of what was to happen? and if so, how could we interpret these warnings? 

  Did events on earth, especially natural disasters, mean that the gods were angry with us, and if so, how could we propitiate this anger; gain their favour? Perhaps by offering sacrifices or observing certain rituals, we could appease the gods, avert disasters, change bad luck into good? Perhaps serving God, or the gods, is our highest calling in life?

  As regards dreams, are they perhaps sent by the gods to warn or advise us? And when we dream of people who have died, as we often do, does that mean they are in some sense, and somewhere, still alive? Person annihilation, of ourselves and our loved ones, is an unpleasant thought: perhaps they are still alive somewhere, and so will we eventually be: perhaps reincarnated, perhaps in some afterlife where the rights and wrongs we have encountered and caused to others will be appropriately rewarded or punished.

   It was ony quite recently that what we call "science" became separated from what would nowadays be dismissed as superstition or magic. The great minds of the Renaissance were fascinated by astrology and alchemy: it was only in later centuries that Newton's followers could envisage a purely mechanical universe, and that Sir James Fraser could dismiss magic as "science that diesn't work". Although it cannot be denied that some people are much luckier than others, the belief that you can change your luck by prayer or by performing certain peculiar rituals is regarded as mere superstition.  

  

  

Aphrodite Callipyge

 Literally, "Aphrodite of the beautiful bottom"; a Roman copy of a Greek original statue from around 300 B.C., now in the Naples museum.

One wonders what a statue like this was for. Was it supposed to be worshipped, in any sense that we can understand the term? Nowadays we would view it as simply an overlap between soft-core pornography and high art.  It is aften said that the early Christians were the first people to link sex with feelings of guilt: an outlook that did not exist in the ancient world. Is this correct? One can understand why Christian preachers would particularly detest a statue like this - and also fear the impact it would have on viewers   

Election repartee

 

With an election imminent, here’s my favourite piece of campaigning repartee, from John Wilkes, the 18^th century radical and troublemaker:

Wilkes, to voter, “May I count on your support?”

Disgruntled gentleman, “I would rather vote for the Devil, sir!”

Wilkes, “Yes, of course. But what if your friend isn’t running?”

....................................................................

Wilkes's most famous riposte was to Lord Sandwich (he of the snack of the same name):

Sandwich: "Wilkes, you will infallibly perish either of the pox or on the gallows!"

Wilkes: "That will depend, my lord, on whether I embrace your principles or your mistress."

 

The great prize-fight: a discarded episode from my historical novel

 I received a message from Sir Anthony Pardington, telling me of a great prize-fight soon to be held at Harley Green, a village a few miles to the north-east of Brackenridge hill. He had invited all the local gentry to the event, and had himself put up a purse of twenty guineas for the winner. He suggested that I might ride over to meet him at the fight, and then continue onwards to stay a few days at one of his houses, which was not far away. Chancing to meet Sir James Wilbrahim, I mentioned said in jest that he should be pleased that I was visiting a place sharing its name with our last Tory prime minister. “But he betrayed us in the end.” was his response. So, on a fine bright morning, I set forth on Alexander for my first experience of prize-fighting.

  

   The fight took place in a ring (for such it was called, though it was square in shape) that was marked out with ropes in a field. A disorderly crowd pressed on this arena, while a group of gentlemen watched from a nearby mound, and it was there that I met Sir Anthony. The two prizefighters, I learned, were Chesney Harris, who came from our county, and Tom Maguire, who was billed as “The Irish Champion”, though I was told he actually hailed from Cronley, a coal-mining town some fifteen miles away. Many of his supporters had walked to Harley Green that morning to cheer for their hero.

  The gladiators stood in opposite corners, conferring with their seconds and occasionally turning to glare fiercely at each other. Both were stripped to the waist. Their faces bore the scars of earlier battles. Both fighters took the same stance: leaning back slightly with the chin tucked in, the left arm extended, the right held back in defence. A young gentleman I did not know, who had been appointed referee, called them to the centre of the ring and the great contest began.

   I was not familiar with the sport, but Sir Anthony, who was viewing the proceedings with much excitement, explained the rules: kicking the opponent was not permitted, neither were punches delivered below the belt; and when a man was down, his seconds had half a minute to get him back on his feet and to the mark. It made me think of what I had been told concerning the Pankration in the ancient Olympic Games, in which anything was permitted with the exception of eye-gouging.

   Maguire was short and stocky, and looked very strong; Harris was taller, with long legs and arms. I was soon able to see how these qualities dictated the different tactics of the two men; for Maguire strove to close in and grapple, whereas Harris sought to keep him at a distance by delivering blows to the head and chest.

  The fight continued for seemed like many hours, and I quickly lost count of the number of rounds as the two men pummelled each other almost to a standstill. Both were bloodied and bruised on the face and chest and neither looked fit to continue: even remaining upright on their feet appeared difficult. Their rival teams of supporters, far from being satiated with so much blood, became more and more animated.

   Then Maguire attempted to seize his opponent’s wrist and draw him in close, but Harris jumped backwards, causing Maguire to lose his balance and stumble so that he had to place his right hand on the ground to support himself. As he went down, Harris felled him with a savage blow to the head. Seconds rushed on with buckets of water, but Maguire was unable to rise beyond a crawl on hands and knees, and the young referee proclaimed Harris the winner.

  The part of the crowd where Maguire’s partisans were congregated erupted in fury, crying foul, since Maguire had already fallen, and demanding that Harris should be disqualified and their man should be awarded the victory. Curses and abuse filled the air, and the Cronley men were shaking their sticks in a most threatening manner.  Regardless of the result, there were many ruffians present who wanted yet more blood. The young referee precipitately fled from the arena and sought refuge with us. Fear was on his face as he gabbled that he had been persuaded to fulfil the position against his better judgement, and that he was resolved never to attend prizefights again. By my side Sir Anthony was obviously worried. He was a magistrate, but what could he do in the face of a hostile mob?

   Suddenly a Herculean figure vaulted the ropes into the ring. The crowd fell silent as he cast off his hat, wig and coat and strode towards the contestants in his shirt. He advanced on Harris, who was shorter by a head and, shouting so that all could hear, challenged him to fight, at any time or place of the latter’s choosing, for a purse of two hundred guineas: more if his opponent’s backers were prepared to put up the money! The crowd forgot for a moment their differences as they watched this new development.

   “Who the devil is that?” Sir Anthony asked.

   “His name is George Davies,” I replied, “I met him in London. He is a friend of Lord Staines”.

   “Well, it is easy to see why Staines should idolise him. Do you think he really would fight Harris?”

   “He might. He is mad enough for anything.”

   “He is a brave fellow in any case,” said Sir Anthony, “and with more intelligence than some might give him credit for. See how he has caused the mob to forget their quarrels and look at him instead!

   “Now it is incumbent on us to support him”, he added. To my astonishment, he bellowed, at the top of his voice, “A hundred guineas on Davies to win!” There were cheers.

   “And a hundred of mine on Harris!” I shouted, taking the hint. Davies turned round and bowed to the crowd.

  Following our lead more bets were shouted from different parts. Gradually the crowd, discussing the prospective combat among themselves, began to disperse, and Sir Anthony thought it was now safe for us to withdraw. We were followed by the other gentlemen, with the young referee relieved to accompany us. We afterwards heard that the Cronley miners ransacked a nearby inn and, very drunk, left a trail of wreckage on their march home.

    The fame of the memorable contest soon spread even to London. Not long after, I heard a hawker of ballads singing of it in the street, and I was curious enough to buy it from her. It began well enough: 

   “Chesney Harris and Tom Maguire

     Both champions they

     Fought till dusk on Harley green

     For a purse of gold one day”

 It then proceeded to a description of the contest, which, though dramatic enough, did not appear to have been composed by someone who actually watched it. Further interest was added by telling how that the vicar of the parish, portrayed as a jolly sporting clergyman, had offered the victor the hand in marriage of an orphan girl under his care, together with a dowry; and how Harris took her and then discovered she was the long-lost heiress to a great fortune. I fear, however, that this romantic tale was the purest fiction.

   George Davies’s challenge was not mentioned at all by the balladeer, which led me to conclude that not only had this unnamed hack not been present, but that he had not even spoken to those who were there. Such neglect was only too common among the laureates of St. Giles.

   But did Davies ever fight Harris? If so, I never hear mention of it. I did not see him again for more than a year, by which time more pressing events had intervened.

(The complete novel can be read at:   pgvshil.blogspot.com  )

England: Monuments in Shrewsbury

 There is a strange link between these pictures

This is the magnificent 15th century "Angel ceiling" in the nave of the church of St Mary the Virgin in Shrewsbury. One night in February 1894 the town was hit by a terrible storm, part of the spire collapsed and brought it all down.

   Here is a contemporary photograph

  A steel roof was erected to keep the rain out, and the ceiling was all put together again. This must have been like a gigiantic jigsaw puzzle! Only one small part of the ceiling today is new wood: all the rest is the original oak! 

  The story goes that the vicar said that the storm was God's curse on the town - because of a proposal to erect a statue of Charles Darwin, Shrewsbury's most famous son! But if that was indeed the case, it didn't work, because the statue was erected anyway in 1897: it is outside what was once Shrewsbury school, where Darwin was educated, but which is now the town library.

Darwin would have come to the church with the school when he was a boy, but his family were Unitarians and worshipped at the Unitarian Chapel in the High Street, where there is a memorial to him.

Bertrand Russell investigates Early Christianity

 Bertrand Russell on Early Christianity

“The Christian religion, as it was handed over by the late Roman Empire to the barbarians, consisted of three elements: first, certain philosophical beliefs, derived mainly from Plato and the Neoplatonists, but also in part from the Stoics; second, a conception of morals and history derived from the Jews; and third, certain theories, more especially as to salvation, which were on the whole new in Christianity, though in part traceable to Orphism*, and to kindred cults of the Near East.

The most important Jewish elements in Christianity appear to me to be the following:

• I. A sacred history, beginning with the creation, leading to a consummation in the future, and justifying the ways of God to man.

• II. The existence of a small section of mankind whom God specially loves. For Jews, this section was the Chosen People; for

Christians, the elect.

• III. A new conception of ‘righteousness’. The virtue of almsgiving, for example, was taken over by Christianity from later Judaism. The importance attached to baptism might be derived from Orphism or from oriental pagan mystery religions, but practical philanthropy, as an element in the Christian conception of virtue, seems to have come from the Jews.

• IV. The Law. Christians kept part of the Hebrew Law, for instance the decalogue, while they rejected its ceremonial and ritual parts. But in practice they attached to the Creed much the same feelings that the Jews attached to the Law. This involved the doctrine that correct belief is at least as important as virtuous action, a doctrine which is essentially Hellenic. What is Jewish in origin is the exclusiveness of the elect.

• V. The Messiah. The Jews believed that the Messiah would bring them temporal prosperity, and victory over their enemies here on earth; moreover, he remained in the future. For Christians, the Messiah was the historical Jesus, who was also identified with the Logos of Greek philosophy; and it was not on earth, but in heaven, that the Messiah was to enable his followers to triumph over their enemies.

• VI. The Kingdom of Heaven. Other-worldliness is a conception which Jews and Christians, in a sense, share with later Platonism, but it takes, with them, a much more concrete form than with Greek philosophers. The Greek doctrine — which is to be found in much Christian philosophy, but not in popular Christianity — was that the sensible world, in space and time, is an illusion, and that, by intellectual and moral discipline, a man can learn to live in the eternal world, which alone is real. The Jewish and Christian doctrine, on the other hand, conceived the Other World as not metaphysically different from this world, but as in the future, when the virtuous would enjoy everlasting bliss and the wicked would suffer everlasting torment. This belief embodied revenge psychology, and was intelligible to all and sundry, as the doctrines of Greek philosophers were not.

To understand the origin of these beliefs, we must take account of certain facts in Jewish history, to which we will now turn our attention ...“

— Bertrand Russell, A History of Western Philosophy (1945), Book Two. Catholic Philosophy, Part. I. The Fathers, Ch. I: The Religious Development of the Jews, pp. 307-09

Learn Russian!

 Start to learn the Russian alphabet with the help of Tolkien! 

I'm sure that everyone will be able to transliterate the first two lines of this book cover! But notice how several Russian letters bear a misleading resemblance to ours (which are taken from the Roman alphabet) but are pronounced quite differently. (The Russian letter, not included here, that looks like a backward R is actually pronunced "ya"). Note that the Russian language has no "J" sound, so two letters are used here to give a rough equivalent, which is pronounced "D-ZH". Neither is there an "H" sound: the letter looking like an X is pronounced something like the Scottish word "loCH". Also note the odd fact that the simple word "the" has no equivalent in Russian. It was also absent in Latin.

  This book cover was the work of Denis Gordeev (more correctly, Gordeyev), a  very good Russian fantasy artist little known in the West. If you enter his name into Google, you'll discover a huge selection of his work, illustrating Tolkien and many other writers. 

Postscript: Overheard on the streets of Moscow some years ago, from two British tourists in search of somewhere to eat: "There's what we want: one of those pecktopah places!" No prizes are offered for using the picture above to help in transliterating the Russian PECTOPAH!

 

Politics: Court versus Country

The oldest and most fundamental political division can be called “Court vs. Country”. It was first used by Sir Lewis Namier in his investigations of British politics in the 18th century, but can be applied to almost all modern political and social structures.

The Court = Those who are more or less permanently in power. Their opponents sometimes dub them "the King's Friends", because of their alleged servile and self-seeking support for whoever happens to be the present leader. 

The Country = Those who are, or see themselves as being, permanently excluded from power, and whose interests are being ignored. Often, they are people with local power and influence, who resent interference by central government. But, at the same time, they often have no intention of actually taking responsibility at the centre: they prefer to grumble.  

The fundamental ideology of the Court is that government must be carried on to protect against lawlessness, and without proper leadership there will be chaos. There is often a snobbish contempt for the Country

The Country tends to harbour a set of discontented attitudes: that government is corrupt, that its leaders are entirely self-seeking and that there is far too much interference in ordinary people’s lives: taking their hard-earned money and undermining theirfreedom with new and unwelcome innovations. Govenrment should get off our backs!

The Politicians are a separate group, defined by Namier as those who are sometimes in power, sometimes not. When out of power, they ally themselves with the Country in order to stir up trouble, wih the aim of either getting themselves recruited to the Court, or of replacing the current Court entirely. When in power, the Politicians often abandon their Country slogans and start to behave like a new Court, to the bitter disillusion of their erstwhile Country supporters! A genuinely "Country" government is so are as to be almost a contradiction in terms.

  The English Parliament, from the earliest times, provided a meeting-place for Court and Country. But, unless the Court maintained a majority there, trouble was likely to follow, as shown most spectacularly in the troubles of Charles I!

The Court vs. Country theme can be detected almost everywhere. In the 18th century, both the campaign for American independence began as typical "country" movements, though they soon developed into something different.

In the early days of Nazi Germany, the rank and file stormtroopers were increasingly restive about ahving gained nothing from Hitler's rise to power, and Soviet Russia in the early 1920s witnessed the grumbling of the "workers' opposition" and the armed rising. of the Kronstadt sailors. All these "Country" revolts had to be violently crushed before full dictatorship could be established 

 In Britain, the prpoganda of both the Brexit campaign and Boris Johnson's appeal in 2019 were strongly "Country", successfully appealing to "the people" against the "ruling liberal elite". Donald Trump's appeal to the voters is entirely "Country", constantly attacking a mysterious and unnamed "elite" who are conspiring firstly to destroy him and then to bring the entire nation to ruin by destroying the people's liberty. 

  To my mind, Trump, with his lack of any cultural pretensions and his love of Macdonald's hamburgers, is a far more convincing "man of the people" than the highly educated, would-be academic Johnson. 

 . 

Annunciation

 March 25th is the Feast of the Annunciation, when the Archangel Gabriel appeared to the Virgin Mary. It was a very popular subject for artists, and these illustrations from the Book of Hours of Anne Boleyn show how mediaeval illumination techniques continued in England well nto Tudor times.

England: Old St. Chad's; Shrewsbury

 This church fell down at the end of the 18th century, leaving only a small side-chapel standing.

 Repairs to the fabric of this are currently under way, and this week I was able to persuade the workmen to let me in for a brief look round. Here are some phographs I was able to take. The font is ancient and very simple, and the heraldic hatchments are particularly fine, though some are ruined beyond repair.

Many  of these hatchments feature a raven, or crow, which was the coat of arms of the Corbet family, who were powerful in north Shropshire. Since the name for this bird in old English or Scots was a "corbie", this is an example of a "canting" coat of arms, which make a pun on the family's name.

Fortunately, the finest work at old St Chad's was removed in 1788, before the building collapsed, and installed at the nearby church of St. Mary the Virgin. This is the great mid-14th century Jesse window.

The architect George Stewart was commissioned to build a replacement church (see an earlier post)

Spring in Clive churchyard

 

Spring in Clive churchyard

Lord Staines fights a duel

(This is an episode from my online historical novel, "The memoirs of Charles Huntingdon", set in Britain in the 1760s. The complete novel can be found by following the link to the right, through "view my complete profile"

    One day that spring I was seated at a table in Brown’s club when Staines entered in a state of great agitation. He brandished a paper at me, and asked me whether I had read it. He was in such a fury I had never seen in him before, so that his hands shook as I took it from him.

   I found that it contained a scandalous attack on him, or rather on a certain L**d S*****s, who was further described as “the catamite of L**d G****e S*******e”, “the coward of Minden”. Although the names were disguised in this manner, anyone who was acquainted with public affairs could have no doubt as to whom was meant. I remembered what Lord Staines had told me, at our very first meeting, about the unfortunate events at Minden, in consequence of which Lord George Sackville had been publicly disgraced and Staines had resigned his commission. So much had befallen me since that it all seemed a very long time ago.

    I asked if he knew who had written it. He told me that it was anonymous, but he was certain that the author was Mr John Wilkes, whose name he pronounced with great anger. “He libels anyone who dares attack Pitt, and he knows I am for a swift conclusion to the war. Scoundrel!” he added.

  I knew Wilkes as the silent Member of Parliament for Aylesbury, though everyone had heard rumours that he frequented a notorious assembly known as the Hellfire Club.

   I told Lord Staines that such low degraded stuff was beneath his attention, and best ignored; and that I was sure that his father would have given the same advice. But he told me that he had approached Wilkes, demanding an apology for this insult to his honour; and, not having received a satisfactory reply, he had issued a challenge to a duel. Staines requested me to be his second. I was reluctant to accede to this, but nothing I could say deterred him.

   Accordingly, soon after sunrise a few days later we took a coach out to Putney Heath. It was a bright morning, but cold. Dew lay heavy on the grass, and glittered on cobwebs on the bushes. There was no-one in sight except our opponent and his second, and another man I did not know. I was told his name was Doctor Blake, who was there in the event of any serious injury.

   It was my first sight of Mr Wilkes, who was shortly to become a most celebrated person; loved by some but hated by others. He was well dressed and slender of build, but his face was disfigured by the most violent squint, which caused his eyes to point in clean different directions. I wondered how, with this handicap, he could ever aim a pistol with any accuracy. He talked merrily, and appeared entirely unperturbed by the peril of his situation. His second was a large, burly fellow; and I was astonished to discover that under his cloak he wore a clergyman’s gown. I was informed that this was the Reverend Charles Churchill, the popular poet. Hogarth once depicted him as a bear, clutching a foaming pot of beer and an immense club, which I thought very apt.

   Doctor Blake then asked whether the two gentlemen were determined to proceed with the duel. Lord Staines replied, with no little heat, that his honour had been most grossly traduced, and that nothing but the most profuse and abject apology would satisfy him. He kept muttering violent epithets under his breath, whereas Mr Wilkes appeared to make light of the whole matter. He said that Lord Staines had produced no evidence that he, Wilkes, was the author of the offending article, but having read it, his opinion was that it contained more than a grain of truth; and, furthermore, since Lord Staines had seen fit publicly to dub him a liar and a scoundrel, he was the one entitled to an apology. These words angered Lord Staines even more, which was undoubtedly Wilkes’s intention.  

   A case was produced and opened, containing a brace of very fine silver-mounted pistols. Churchill and I checked that they were properly loaded. I attempted to hold my hands steady: it was the first time I had ever witnessed a duel and I was alarmed; for if someone was killed, might I be held to be an accessory to murder?  

   Lord Staines and Mr Wilkes walked twelve paces apart, then turned and presented their pistols. Lord Staines fired first, and grazed his opponent’s coat, but did no further harm. Mr Wilkes then raised his pistol and aimed it steadily at Staines’s breast, for what seemed like an age. Staines looked pale in the face, but did not flinch. Suddenly Wilkes laughed, lowered his pistol and deliberately fired at the ground, so that his bullet skipped across the earth some distance from Lord Staines’s feet. He then advanced towards his opponent with his hand extended.

   “Sir,” he said, “You have shown yourself to be a gentleman of courage, as befits an officer of the crown. I regret that you might feel I have offended you, and would be honoured if I might now be considered your friend.” 

   Staines, however, was by no means reconciled. He said this was no kind of apology, refused to take Wilkes’s proffered hand and ordered the pistols to be reloaded for a second firing. Mr Churchill now announced that, in his decided opinion, sufficient satisfaction had been given and that the business had been ended with perfect honour to both parties. I agreed with this, and so did Doctor Blake; but Lord Staines, ignoring Wilkes, departed forthwith, without giving me a glance. While I admired my friend’s courage, I could only be disappointed by his surly conduct afterwards.

   Doctor Blake did not stay long, but I remained at the tavern with Wilkes and Churchill for the remainder of the morning. Wilkes, aware of how alarmed I had been, told me that it was rare for duels these days to lead to any bloodshed. I asked him how the challenge to the duel had come about. He told me:

   “Lord Staines burst into my room in an agony of passion, brandishing the paper and demanding to know whether or not I was the author. I said that I was a free and independent English gentleman and that I refused to be catechised in this fashion. He then produced a brace of pistols and demanded immediate satisfaction. Finally, he calmed to the extent of agreeing to postpone the duel until three days later, with the result that you know.”

   He recounted how he had recently fought a duel with Lord Talbot, who, like Staines, had felt that he had been insulted.

   “We met at Bagshot. We both fired, but happily there was no shedding of blood, for neither took effect. I walked up immediately to Lord Talbot and said that I regretted that I had offended him. His lordship paid me the highest compliments on my courage, said he would declare everywhere that I was a noble fellow, and desired that we should now be good friends and retire to the inn to drink a bottle of claret together, which we did with great good humour. That is how duels should end. It is a pity that your young friend could not show the same magnanimous spirit.”

  I found Mr Wilkes the most engaging of companions. For his part, on discovering that I was new to political life, he suggested that I might enjoy reading a certain weekly paper known as the “North Briton”. I promised to look for it, and we shook hands and parted.

 

                                           (John Wilkes, by Hogarth)

   

Donald Trump and James Bond

Wouldn’t Donald Trump make a splendid James Bond villain, on the lines of Goldfinger or Blofeld? He not only looks the part, but talks and acts it as well!

But why is he going to such lengths to undermine trust in the American political and judicial systems? Is it merely to satisfy his personal ambitions? Or is some shadowy organisation, based abroad, behind it? When James Bond is sent to investigate, he finds himself in the greatest peril he has yet faced …..

 

The mystery of the headless skeleton

There is a strange link between this mid-Victorian window and the 13th- century tomb of Simon de Leybourne, which are both to be found in the Trinity Chapel of the church of St. Mary the Virgin in Shrewsbury.

The king depicted on the window is Alfred the Great with his laws, but the shield above him, the blue lion on gold, is the coat of arms of Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester. Why is it there?

   Worcester was the uncle of Henry Percy, "Harry Hotspur", who led the rebel army at the battle of Shrewsbury in 1403. Hotspur was killed and afterwards Worcester was beheaded in the centre of Shrewsbury. His head would have been taken to London to be publicly displayed, but what happened to his body? 

   When floor tiles were laid in the chapel in the 19th century, a number of skeletons were found, one of which was wrapped in leather to preserve it, and had no head. Was the headless person the Earl of Worcester? The legend was that, after Worcester's execution, his supporters secretly removed his body and brought it to the church, where they forced open the Leybourne tomb and deposited it there. This story is retold in the historical novel "A bloody field by Shrewsbury" by Edith Pargeter (who is also known as Ellis Peters). I'm not sure which came first: the legend or the discovery of the headless skeleton.

Nowadays it's not generally believed that the Earl of Worcester was buried here, but the window serves to perpetuate the legend.