On the 25th June, 1903 the author George Orwell was born. Orwell was the literary pseudonym of Eric Blair and he was born into a lower middle-class English family in India. All of his ancestors had deep and enduring connections to the British Empire. He returned to England for his education at the age of five. He won a scholarship to Eton in 1911 and although he loathed it, his nascent literary skills were honed at this august institution. He became a prolific contributor to the in-house magazine.
When he left Eton he found employment as a military policeman in Burma. This heady experience informed and shaped his political perspective. He acquired a very real and visceral understanding of imperialism and the effects, both direct and indirect on the psyche and sensibility of the British people. It politicised him in a truly profound way, even more significantly than his school days at Eton when he was embedded with the sons of the English elites.
Orwell’s formative years coincided with seismic historical events, and shifting epochs. Concepts of nation, and Empire were subverted throughout the twentieth century. The presence of the British in South and East Asia was fraught and complicated. The British sent administrators and military personnel to a region of the world steeped in culture and heritage. Over time, they developed a great affection for these places, and many sought to preserve and conserve the history of this fascinating corner of the world. In spite of their valiant efforts they were not always appreciated by the local people. They were met with resistance, which sometimes turned violent.
Orwell was frustrated and even confined by this contradiction, complaining that he “was stuck between my hatred of the empire I served and my rage against the evil-spirited little beasts who tried to make my job impossible”. It inspired him to write a polemic entitled “Shooting an Elephant”, based on his work as a military policeman in a rural enclave of Burma.
The essay details an incident involving an unruly elephant threatening the villagers. He is reluctant to kill this magnificent but dangerous beast but in the face of an angry and terrified populace he is coerced into shooting it. The tale itself is an allegory of the British Empire. The Empire focussed upon bringing the benefits of British political systems to enable other countries to develop and thrive, but in practice only served to alienate.
It remains a bitter irony that this was a project initially conceived to revitalise the world. However it altered the nature of the countries that were colonised in a fundamental and irrevocable way, and ruined the ambitions of enterprising young men seeking fortune and adventure.
However the failures of the Empire are actually overstated, and the benefits are often ignored. It is easy to castigate a historical entity in hindsight. Modern commentators, lacking the lived experience of the Empire builders, enjoy criticising it. It is almost a fashion, resulting from ignorance and cynicism. The same tired tropes are constantly reiterated. It is tiresome to even attempt to counter them.
However one important distinction must be made, between English nationalism and British imperialism. These two concepts are polar opposites, and Orwell was one of the first writers to explain the difference. Orwell loved England, its culture, its history and its people. He loved the quaintness of “stamp collectors, pigeon fanciers, amateur carpenters, coupon-snippers, darts players and crossword-puzzle fans”. And, in spite of his numerous adventures and travels over the world, he longed to return to the familiarity of England, “the sleekest landscape in the world”. The British Empire was an early incarnation of globalism, and the neo-liberal economic experiment. It is like that lumbering elephant and it needs to die.
On the 20th June, 1837 King William IV died. He reigned over Great Britain and Ireland for a mere seven years. He was also one of this country’s oldest Monarchs, as he was 64 years old when he ascended to the throne. His succession was regarded as inauspicious and concerning, as his personal life was in disrepute. His reputation was marred by his womanising, and rumours of illegitimate offspring.
However William’s succession was a surprise. When his brother King George IV died, there were no surviving heirs. William spent most of his life serving in the Royal Navy. He was dispatched to sea at the age of 13, and was expected to rise through the ranks. However he never applied himself. His only serious dedication was to carousing.
He was vulgar, arrogant and profligate with money. His strait-laced family were ashamed and horrified by his antics, and tried in vain to rein in the worst of his behaviour. Ironically, his bluntness appealed to Whig sensibilities. The King’s lack of decorum was perceived as a refreshing change to the apparent pretension of his predecessors. The reports of the day stated that he was,
“A little old, red-nosed, weather-beaten, jolly looking person with an ungraceful air and carriage”. His coarseness contrasted quite markedly in contrast to the civility and poise that characterised the Kings and Queens who reigned before him.
He was viewed as an asset to the Whig cause. They believed that they could use his image as the common man with the common touch to bolster their support. The tactic must have worked. Five months later, the Tory government collapsed and a new Whig administration was established.
The new King truly was without pretension, he refused to move out of Clarence House after he was crowned. His reasoning was bluff and pragmatic, it was his home while he was still the heir and there was no real benefit or purpose for him to relocate to Buckingham Palace. He even conjectured that the Palace could be repurposed and converted into Army barracks. He also dreaded the coronation ceremony. He considered it tasteless and unnecessarily expensive.
The Tory government was disgusted by the crude attitudes of the Monarch, and it was only under extreme duress that he acquiesced to their demands. He agreed to hold the ceremony, but shamefully it was the discounted version. It cost less than a fifth of George IV’s and the occasion was dubbed the “Half Crownation”. All of the sacred, ancient rites were deliberately truncated, and the King visibly mocked the solemnity throughout the service.
A month later, the newly restored French King was forced into exile after violent demonstrations erupted in Paris. He was sent to Scotland, where he was protected by the novelist and ardent Monarchist Sir Walter Scott. William understood that his own position was never guaranteed, as history proved that his subjects were not always kind or forgiving to those who preceded him.
On the 22nd November 1830, the Northumbrian aristocrat Earl Grey was installed as the new Prime Minister. He was elected on a mandate for Parliamentary reform. Inequality was entrenched throughout the Kingdom, and the Tories symbolised the worst trappings of inherited wealth and privilege.
Fearing revolt and insurrection, the Whig government passed three Reform Acts which helped to suppress any nascent revolutionary fervour. Two years after this legislation received Royal Assent, in a bizarre twist of fate, fire broke out in the Houses of Parliament and the physical restoration of this towering symbol of democracy became an urgent necessity.
The King lived long enough to witness his realm enjoy the fruits of liberty and freedom, but by the spring of 1837 his health began to deteriorate. His niece, the future Queen Victoria was barely eighteen years old when he died. Another chapter of British history closed, and a new era began.
On the 9th June, 1870 the English author and journalist Charles Dickens died. He had an illustrious career, as a novelist and as a public speaker and performer on the stage. However there was one place which loomed much larger than anywhere else in his imagination. This was his long and enduring connection to England’s capital city, London. Dickens is now considered synonymous with London, and its people. He captured the genius loci expertly, and he preserved its unique character for generations of readers.
English people from other parts of the country are always astonished by the change in culture whenever they visit London. Londoners are exceptional people. They are defined by their attitudes and sensibilities. This is glaringly obvious to outsiders. Visitors remark upon the aggression and on the cynicism that is concealed beneath the shiny and expensive veneer.
Observers have commented that the assorted denizens of London are always keen to make an impression, characteristic of a metropolis in which everything and everyone is in competition. Dickens absorbed this frenetic atmosphere and his work embodied the restless soul of London. It was clear in his writing style, he was fond of superlatives and exaggeration. Most of his characters are caricatures, fond tributes to the indomitable and unforgettable figures that inspired him as a young man.
Contemporary writers have used London as a template to critique urbanisation and capitalism, and to reveal the associated ills of alienation and atomisation. However in Dickens’ day London did not operate in that way. Unlike the isolated, soulless experience of today, in his experience everyone was interconnected. For example in “Master Humphrey’s Clock” he observed that,
“Here life and death went hand in hand; wealth and poverty stood side by side; repletion and starvation laid themselves down together…wealth and beggary, vice and virtue, guilt and innocence…all treading on each other and crowding together”.
He admired the vitality of London and its indefatigable spirit and proclaimed that, “every voice is merged, this moonlight night, into a distant ringing hum, as if the city were a vast glass vibrating”.
Dickens was enamoured by the dynamism of the city.
Ever since its inception, London has been an economic powerhouse, and it remains central to the economic fortunes of the entire country. This is astonishing, considering its history. It began rather inauspiciously as dank marshland, before the Romans invaded. The Romans’ acuity was invaluable to the city’s success, as they swiftly built viaducts, bridges and roads and the city began to thrive.
London depends on youth and talent as its lifeblood, and Dickens drew on this in his portraits of poor, yet plucky youngsters like Pip in “Great Expectations” and the eponymous hero in “Oliver Twist”. However he was not afraid to expose the darker side. It must be said that far too many readers focus upon this and ignore the wider picture.
It is too simplistic to portray him as a radical or a socialist. Although moved by the plight of the poor, he supported charity, an innately conservative and Victorian virtue. He did not seek political or social revolution in any shape or form, and he would have been horrified by such a suggestion.
Dickens’ writing is embedded with a distinct moral code and the brutal reality of city living emanates from every page. The characters in his books are complex, and finely drawn evocations of human vice and villainy. These are true reflections of individuals stripped of all pride and vanity.
He made a deliberate decision to write about the hidden corners of London, the prisons, the asylums and the orphanages. In his mind, the true nature of London was revealed in these places, these were the lurid extremities where few city dwellers would dare to venture.
The sombre scenes of these institutions are starkly rendered. These are the areas that are forbidding and foreboding, rarely encountered by others, especially those cocooned in luxury and privilege. The grime and the grit, the sulphuric gloom and the caustic humour exhibited by the unlucky few who find themselves plunged into this atmosphere have a close association with Dickens. These descriptive qualities have even acquired the soubriquet “Dickensian”. Everyone understands what this concept means whenever this is invoked as an adjective.
G.K Chesterton understood it, and he wrote a vivid essay on his writing, describing,
“A vision of the Dickens’ world-a maze of white roads…thundering coaches, clamorous market-places, uproarious inns, strange and swaggering figures.”
Chesterton adored the fantastical world of Dickens, a hinterland populated by memorable characters.
It is an unmistakable milieu that remains baffling, yet intriguing to outsiders. However for those of us who remain deeply immersed in the culture of England, and particularly the culture of London, it is eerily familiar. Dickens’ had a great insight into this spare existence. It was only alleviated by dark humour.
It seemed that joking made the bleakness surmountable. Chesterton declared that,
“The English poor live in an atmosphere of humour; they think in humour. Irony is the very air that they breathe.”
Dickens felt a great affection for his fellow Londoners, and he never fell into the trap of patronising them. Chesterton concludes that Dickens “responded to a profound human sentiment”. This human sentiment is his greatest legacy,
On the 2nd June, 1840 the English poet and novelist Thomas Hardy was born. Many readers have admired him throughout the ages as one of the best chroniclers of “Deep England”. This is a concept which evokes much more than a sense of a specific place and time, it is the encapsulation of a feeling of innocence and wonder, and a yearning to return to a simpler existence.
Hardy was born in Dorset. The location of his birth is significant. All of his novels were set in the South West of England, he referred to this corner of England as Wessex. This was the archaic name for a region which encompassed the counties of Dorset, Wiltshire, Somerset, Devon, Hampshire and Berkshire. Hardy was essentially a pastoral writer, illuminating the climate and landscape of the furthest fringes of England.
He defended this parochial style by declaring,
“It is better for a writer to know a little bit of the world remarkably well than to know a great part of the world remarkably little”.
He left Dorset to train as an architect in London, but he felt lost and homesick. Increasingly despondent, he retired to the college chapel to ponder his fate. Then the ghost of William Wordsworth appeared to him, almost like a talisman to guide him on his future path. This was seared in his memory as the unmistakable, yet shadowy figure of the poet appeared, “lingering and wandering on somewhere alone in the fan-traceried Vaulting”. He took this as a sign that his destiny did not actually lie in architecture. He knew that he had to pursue his literary ambitions, just as Wordsworth illustrated the magic and mystery of the Lake District, Hardy endeavoured to bring out the majesty of the West Country.
Both were part of the Romantic tradition, a form of cultural conservatism rooted in place. They understood that the landscape moulded the people who lived, worked and depended upon it for their sustenance. It was precious and there was an urgent necessity to preserve it, as it was so much more than a random patch of land, it defined their identity, perceptions and outlook on life.
Hardy declared,
“There exists a great background, vital and wild, which matters..”
Similarly, Wordsworth waxed lyrical about the magic of the Northern landscape in his book, “A Guide Through the District of the Lakes”. He imagined a lone walker wandering the lakes and fells. He described how this solitary pilgrim of nature felt overwhelmed by the beauty that surrounded him. As he contemplated the landscape, he experienced a kind of epiphany, as if encountering the sublime.
In one passage he recalled that as “the winds sweeping over the lakes, or piping with a loud voice among the mountain peaks…(he) may think of the primeval woods shedding and renewing their leaves.” This distinct landscape was haunted by the footsteps of other lone travellers, who also trod the same paths.
The land resonates with the memory of these wanderers. Wordsworth felt their presence and described the “low breathings coming after him”. The profound sense of the elemental reverberates throughout the work of Wordsworth and Hardy.
The haunting memories of Egdon Heath were revealed within Hardy’s powerfully affecting novel “Return of the Native”. In his imagination, he thought that the Heath “had a lonely face, suggesting tragical possibilities”. Hardy maintained that all of the land possessed this tragic possibility. Hardy’s childhood on a bleak, windy corner of England left an indelible impression on him.
Outsiders were oblivious to the reality of such an existence, for them, on the surface at least, country living was benign and bucolic, unaware that horror and drama are buried beneath, and arise at the most inopportune time. When they least expect it, the characters soon succumb to their fate. Hardy lived through a time of dramatic change, the late Victorian era when England was on the cusp of modernity. He was deeply sceptical of the supposed benefits of industrialisation. In his eyes it simply destroyed rural communities and people lost their connection to the land. He maintained that it was natural to remain on the land and to eke out an existence despite the hardships.
On the 30th May, 1744 the acclaimed English poet, satirist and essayist Alexander Pope died. He was renowned for his sardonic wit. He was also a fierce critic of the Whig party, an indomitable political force which dominated British politics for six decades. Its prominence in the political sphere was embodied by its leader and Prime Minister, the gargantuan, statuesque figure of Sir Robert Walpole.
Whig supremacy was immortalised in British history. It was remembered in historical records as the Restoration of Political Stability. However, one party rule is always fraught with danger. Sixty years of unlimited power can wreak immense damage, and ultimately ruin a country. It took almost a century for the Tories to seize the reins of government back from the Whigs.
Whigs and Tories were bitter enemies and polar opposites, both ideologically and culturally. They emerged as parliamentary factions during a period of immense political turbulence. They battled with each other during the most tempestuous times, through the heady years of the Civil Wars, the Interregnum, the Restoration and the reign of the Hanoverian Kings.
The origins of their names were coined as insults, “Whiggamore” was a derogatory term for Scottish Presbyterians and “Tory” was an equally demeaning term for an Irish outlaw. Inevitably, this ugly and hostile political climate marred politics and damaged the reputation of politicians. Politics was soon tainted, and it was no longer an honourable or noble pursuit. The culture, society and the sensibilities of this nation were impacted in irrevocable ways and a vicious political divide continues to reverberate today.
Political debate was poisoned in this febrile atmosphere. Civility, politeness and cordiality was cast aside. Instead, vulgarity was given a free rein. In spite of the overarching impact of the Whigs on the rest of society, Pope remained a traditionalist, a Tory and a Roman Catholic. His influential status as a wit, and an outsider alarmed the Whig establishment.
However the Whigs employed their own polemicists to denounce the Tories who were castigated as “Dumb Dogs, Jesuitical Dogs, Dark Lanthorns, Baal’s Priests, Damned Rogues, Jacks and Villains, the Black Guard and the Black Regiment of Hell”. Whigs were deeply suspicious of the political motives of the Tories, and utilised black propaganda and propagandists in an attempt to counter the threat of any Tory resurgence.
Whigs were characteristically arrogant and entitled. Their greatest hope was that the Tories would never darken the corridors of power ever again. Whigs associated the Tories with religious piety and tyranny. They were afraid that they were still loyal to the House of Stuart. Many believed that they were sympathetic to the Jacobite cause, the campaign for the last surviving heir in the Stuart dynasty, James, to succeed to the throne.
At that time political detractors condemned James as the “Old Pretender”. Whigs had a genuine fear that all of their precious freedoms and liberties that they reaped from the Glorious Revolution would be reversed if the Tories replaced them. However Tories disliked the Whigs for their historical connection with Scottish dissenters and they were terrified of the spectre of Puritanism and the downgrading of the Established Church. They did not want the Church of England to lose its privileged status.
These parties were not just ideological opposites, they also represented entirely separate and distinct constituencies. The Whigs were popular with the new mercantile class who were liberal and internationalist in their outlook. However Tories represented the old guard of landed gentry who resisted change and regarded continuity as a form of virtue.
Pope disliked the Whigs intensely. His favourite method of satire was to lampoon authority figures, puncturing their pomposity, pretension and earnestness. He was the literary equivalent of Hogarth. Hogarth employed familiar elements in his paintings, including the use of cartoonish caricature, comic exaggeration and grotesque. He illuminated the seedy decadence of the rich and privileged in the most garish fashion. It was tremendously evocative and effective.
Hogarth was obviously more than a painter, he was a polemicist and one of the greatest political artists in this country. His work continues to resonate even today. Many other artists have used his techniques, and continue to do so. Satirical portraits of authority illustrated a pertinent point. They were revelatory. It was clear that the rapid urbanisation of Britain did not improve the lives of ordinary people, it simply made them feel more detached and alienated from their traditional communities.
The growth of metropolitanism had a deleterious effect on cohesion in this country. Then, as now the urban sophisticates were the chief beneficiaries of it, but for most people it had little or no impact on their everyday struggles. Pope was inspired to compose “The Dunciad” as a reaction to the fulsome praise accorded to the people he perceived as frauds, charlatans and poseurs. He loathed the fakery and the manipulative tactics employed by these people, who in his eyes were simply cynics and svengalis, using devious tricks solely to enhance their social status and to enrich themselves.
He expounded,
“Hell rises, Heav`n descends, and dance on Earth:
Gods, imps, and monsters, music, rage and mirth,
A fire, a jigg, a battle, and a ball,
`Till one wide conflagration swallows all”.
Pope derided the fashion for scientific learning at the expense of the imagination. The trend for acquiring knowledge for its own sake seemed empty.
In his mind, the gilded life of the intellectual had little merit or value, but for the Whig elite these were the favoured people who had the necessary skills which they could deploy in their progressivist quest. In contrast, Pope and his fellow Tories looked upon these self-appointed experts with disdain, they were not special or even that interesting. In their eyes, they were simply soulless bores and sycophants.
They had a cold and calculated ethos which offended the poetic sensibilities of the traditionalists. This was exemplified by the pragmatic attitude of King George I. The new King was perceived by the Tories as a Whig puppet who supported their militaristic endeavours. George saw his role as purely diplomatic, he cared little for the pomp, pageantry and ceremony that his predecessors enjoyed. He had great suspicions about the Tories, and loathed how they once fawned over the Old Pretender.
The King was deeply unpopular with vast swathes of the British public, who viewed him as a foreign interloper. He seemed to embody the worst stereotypes of Germans, which are immediately recogniseable even today. He had a spare utilitarian approach and was exacting and almost pedantic about tiny details. Even his remote, often cruel relationship with his son was remarked upon, one quipped that, “the Hanoverians, like pigs, trample their young”. The Prince of Wales, the future King George II was the polar opposite.
King George II was cultured, vivacious and absorbed the culture and heritage of his adopted country. His outlook was romantic, as opposed to the crude rationalism of his father. Consequently, his court attracted literary luminaries like Pope. However there was a sordid side to the King’s court. One notable Whig politician, John Hervey was aware of this dark side, and was busily making a compendium of it.
His devious subterfuge attracted the ire of Pope, who was inspired to write the “Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot”. This was a satirical poem with a heavily disguised portrait of Baron Hervey at the centre of it. Hervey is “Sporus”, a malicious, dangerous, absurd and sexually perverse figure.
In the poem he despairs of the callousness of Sporus and his determination to destroy a revered figure, proclaiming,
“Let Sporus tremble-”What? that thing of silk,
Sporus, that mere white curd of ass` milk?
Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?”
Pope was so enamoured by the King that he was prepared to overlook his obvious flaws for the sake of maintaining the continuity, stability and tradition of the Crown. Pope’s battle to save the soul of this country is still being fought today, but rather tragically it appears that the heirs of the Whigs, the liberals, the globalists and the cold hearted pragmatists are winning.
On the 20th May, 1864 the English poet John Clare died. His work was largely neglected in his lifetime. It was only during the twentieth century that his work was re-evaluated and re-incorporated into the canon of English poetry. He was renowned as a nature poet, and was revered for his fierce defence of the English countryside. Clare sought to protect the dignity of the agricultural workers who laboured ceaselessly to save it from the pernicious effects of modernisation and industrialisation.
Clare maintained that the English landscape was sacred and that every native Englishman had and kept a pact with the land that was sacrosanct. All of this changed with the introduction of the Enclosure Acts, laws which were only enacted to benefit wealthy landowners.
Clare saw the destruction first hand, he saw the total desecration of the fields in his native Northamptonshire. Trees and hedges were uprooted, fens were drained and pastures were ploughed. His response was both caustic and uncompromising, it was undeniable that this was both an abomination and a profanity. Clare was only fourteen when these laws were implemented. The legislators justified these as methods that would increase yields.
However, the old way of life rapidly vanished as swathes of precious land were privatised for profit. In his poem “Helpston Green” he opines,
“But now, alas, your hawthorn bowers
All desolate we see
The tyrant’s hand their shade devours
And cuts down every tree.”
The fields were no longer the property of hard working, humble smallholders, they became the sole preserve of the rich, indolent elites.
These shallow, avaricious interlopers had no concept of the divinity in nature, it was simply another resource to exploit, and to further enrich themselves. These new landowners considered their new acquisition as yet another commodity. It was this casual dismissal of centuries of diligence and devotion which shocked him the most. When he learned that his favourite elm trees were to be condemned, he remarked that “I have been several mornings to bid them farewell”. He knew that the dedication of cultivation of these ancient trees was more than work, it was a vocation. In English folklore trees are divine and almost akin to holy totems.
Clare was fragile, and vulnerable. He suffered greatly with his mental health and spent most of his life in asylums. This mental fragility threatened to overshadow his legacy as a poet. However it must still be acknowledged that in spite of his emotional difficulties, his tremendous insight and lucidity shines through his poetry.
The 6th May, 2023 was a momentous and historic day. At Westminster Abbey, the coronation of King Charles III was observed by a select, and special circle of spectators while the rest of the United Kingdom watched the occasion unfold live on their television screens.
It was a glorious day filled with profound meaning and significance. It was also extremely emotional. British people had endured a great deal of grief after the death of Queen Elizabeth I. Her long reign represented a kind of stability and continuity that united all of the generations. Many people found themselves reflecting upon the events that led up to this day.
The late Queen remained such a fixture in all our lives, in good times and bad, that her absence felt like a spiritual and emotional void. However, she still seemed a rather remote figure. The political impartiality required of the Monarch made her appear emotionally distant and cold. She rarely expressed a view on anything, and took a pragmatic approach to any crisis. This sort of no nonsense attitude endeared her to some, but alienated others.
The then Prince of Wales, in contrast, felt and thought deeply about various subjects. Religion, art, music, architecture and the natural world were just a few subjects that still occupy a place in his heart. He wrote, and continues to write vast tracts and elegies devoted to these issues. When he acceded to the throne he made an implicit promise to his subjects that he would continue to pay heed to these things.
It is apparent that he views himself as more than the Head of State and the Head of the Church of England, to him both these things are more than symbolic. It is obvious that he takes these roles seriously.
The KIng has a deeply moral world view, and his pronouncements give him the air of a seer or a prophet. His place in our society is something sacred, this was evident during one particular part of the coronation service. The King was anointed with holy oil, oil that was consecrated in Jerusalem, although this was not shown on camera. Still, for some viewers with a degree of imagination this gave the King a bond to something eternal and transcendent.
The ageing King, in poor health and struggling to cohere his duty as Monarch and religious leader in a time of great flux nonetheless perseveres. This is admirable and impressive. It is also almost heroic, when there is so much to disunite us. He is a central part of our culture, our history, our identity and our mythology and that is why he is still important.
On the 1st May, 1700 the English poet and playwright John Dryden died. He was the first Poet Laureate, an honourable title that was bestowed upon him by the office of the newly restored Monarchy. His work eventually defined Restoration England, and his appointment heralded a triumphant return of English culture after the sterile and barren years of Cromwell’s Puritan regime.
Dryden understood the powerful allure of Monarchy, and the spell that Kings, particularly the Stuart King, Charles II had over the populace. This prevailed despite the violent schism that tore the nation in two. The divide between religious dissenters and loyalists sparked the English Civil Wars, yet a sizable part of the population was committed to the King.
His most devoted followers helped to support him in exile. There was a secret society of Monarchists who would assemble at Ham House in Richmond on Thames. They were called The Sealed Knot, and when the King returned from the Netherlands he rewarded the owner of the property with an annual pension. The belief in the divine powers of the King became so pronounced and ingrained that there were people who believed that even after his demise they could sense his ghostly presence, and some claimed that they could smell the scent of his pipe. The King almost had a cult following. Every Friday, devotees would assemble outside the Banqueting House in Westminster to receive the King’s healing touch. They were convinced that the King’s hands could cure them of the most disfiguring disease.
The notion of the divinity of Kings had not expired, in spite of all of the political and religious upheavals that afflicted England throughout the centuries. The King had inherited the traditions of the early church, and although he was ostensibly a “Protestant” Monarch he had not abandoned the Catholic past entirely. He merely adapted it. Dryden had a profound insight into the prevailing sensibilities of English Catholicism. He expressed it in perceptive and lyrical terms as the “milkwhite hind, immortal and unchanged”. The root of English spirituality itself remains deeply embedded within the psyche of the English people, even if the practice and form has changed.
Our ancestors always revered immortal figures, like King Arthur. Arthur was the archetypal eternal King, who had the power to unite a fractious nation. The legend was that he had not actually died, he was merely sleeping and his spirit would revive the fortunes of an island people who suffered repeated invasions and tribal wars. This fanciful legend was incorporated into the literature of the Restoration and indulged by the King, who was fond of theatrical excess. Thankfully, through the patronage of Charles II, we continue to enjoy the artistic legacy of pioneers like John Dryden.
April 24th is St. Mark’s Eve, a solemn date of fasting and prayer dedicated to the dying. Tradition in England dictated that those observing the feast must keep vigil in the churchyard between 11PM and 1AM. It was believed that anyone who passed through the church porch during that time was destined to die within that year.
The symbol most commonly associated with St. Mark is a winged lion, an indefatigable and heroic figure. It is an icon reproduced in medieval heraldry. Mark’s influence was especially pronounced in Italy and was particularly revered by communicants of the English Church. The legend still reverberates throughout our culture, albeit in a watered down version in comparison to the devotions of previous centuries.
Mark was born in the spiritual wastelands of North Africa, yet through his tireless evangelism he established the foundations of Christianity in the desert, and ultimately across the whole of the African continent. The English poet John Keats was inspired by this prophetic story of building substance from sand, and could see parallels between this and the spiritual void of England.
Keats spoke of “the vale of soul making”, and alluded to the perpetual struggle of the English people to find a cohesive religious and cultural identity. He also made the declaration that “I am certain of nothing but the Holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the Imagination”. Keats was a visionary poet and part of a long tradition of seers and poets.
This originated with the omens and prophecies of the Druidic priests and was established on this island before continental invasion and colonisation. It has endured and remains a part of us, and our sensibility as a people. The foundation myth of our island was itself based upon a vision.
The legend states that the goddess Diana appeared before Brutus and declared, “beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies, sea-girt it lies, where giants dwelt of old. Now void it fits thy people…And kings be born of thee, whose dreaded might shall awe the world and conquer nations bold”. This is our inheritance and it has left an indelible impression on generations of English writers.
Keats’ poem, “The Eve of Saint Mark” focusses upon a vigil attended by a young woman called Bertha. The tone is both dream-like and melancholic. Bertha is sitting in the shadows of the graveyard, reading, praying and contemplating the significance of the occasion.
Keats illustrates this tremendously evocative scene, replete with visions of ghostly silhouettes,
“All was silent, all was gloom
Abroad and in the homely room:
Down she sat, poor cheated soul!
And struck a lamp from the dismal coal”.
In her fatigue she reaches some level of epiphany, as the poem concludes,
“At length her constant eyelids come
Upon the fervent martyrdom;
Then lastly to his holy shrine
Exalt amid the tapers’ shine
At Venice”.
Keats’ observations captured a different England, now lost to modernity.
It was a nation that was still steeped in piety, although that was beginning to wane in his lifetime. At that stage in our history, people still believed in the literal presence of ghosts. It is obvious that during a period of great privation and high mortality, certain beliefs or perhaps superstitions would be prevalent. Many churches in this country are dedicated to St. Mark and continue to attract large congregations. However the Church of England discourages these ancient practices and instead advises parishioners to light candles and pray for those facing death.
It is sad that there are negative connotations, it reflects our disconnection between ourselves and our ancestors and the modern taboo about death. It is the only inevitability in our lives, and we should not be ashamed. Keats faced his own demise with an admirable level of maturity and acceptance. We should acknowledge our own mortality in the same manner.
On the 19th April, 1824 the English poet Lord Byron died. He left an enduring poetic legacy, but also a dark reputation, both historically and culturally. Byron became a legend and a kind of totem for a new and startling epoch. The Romantic age was signified by its individualism, and its cast of unique characters. Mary Shelley’s novel “Frankenstein” symbolises this, the narrative and characterisation almost mirrors the life and times of Byron. Byron was the bete noir of the English establishment and in the wake of scandal was exiled to the far fringes of Europe. Byron personified the louche sensibilities of the aristocracy. His behaviour demonstrated all of the worst characteristics associated with the upper echelons. He was libidinous and profligate with money.
He represented amorality, and displayed the kind of behaviour that fuelled widespread resentment, but in particular within the lower echelons of society. While banished to a remote corner of the continent, he attempted to restore his literary reputation. He was accompanied by his personal doctor, John William Polidori. On that stormy weekend Byron devised a test for his friends and fellow literary luminaries; he wanted to discover who could tell the best ghost story.
Dr. Polidori presented an early version of his story “The Vampyre”, the first prose piece of a legend only evinced in poetry. This mythic creature was also unearthly and immortal, and in Polidori’s imagination an alter ego of Byron himself. This was the first example of a “Byronic” figure before this term had even been coined. It is now such a familiar literary trope that we often fail to remember the origin. The Vampire is high born and has an impressive intellect, he is also tremendously alluring and amorous.
In the story, a young man called Aubrey is intrigued by the presence of a strange and enigmatic figure called Lord Ruthven and the unsettling infamy entwined within the character. Ruthven’s powers are legendary but they are also terrifying, which Aubrey encounters when he meets him in Rome. He leaves under a cloud, but Ruthven’s presence continues to haunt him. This story was a formative and important influence on the Irish writer Bram Stoker, who regenerated this theme nearly eighty years later.
“Dracula” is a new European reanimation of Ruthven, transmogrified into a dapper and urbane Count inhabiting a ghostly castle, rumoured to be the seat of Romanian aristocrats. This remnant of a palace is situated amidst the misty Transylvanian mountains. The trope is revived once more. The vampire seeks the vitality of youth and draws blood to remain immortal, and in the process ensures that the host also remains immortal. However this vampire story was simply a clever version of an old folk legend and not particularly shocking nor surprising.
However the world was undoubtedly disturbed and shaken by the unique and unforgettable creature created by Victor Frankenstein. It is a testament to Shelley’s originality and literary brilliance that her work had a much greater and wider cultural influence, and legacy. “Frankenstein” subtitled “The Modern Prometheus” subverted all of the conventions and mores of the age.
All of the characters imagined on that stormy night were Promethean figures. This was an entirely new concept of the Romantic era. They imagined characters imbued with superhuman and supernatural powers, defiantly challenging the natural order with their quest for omnipotence. Romantic literature exposes the flaws of the human ego when it is left unchecked. The romantic poet is a fragile figure, forced to play an unnatural role in a world of artifice. He is a ghostly presence in an arena that demands authenticity and spurns pretension.
Ghost stories themselves are allegories, designed to illustrate transgressive or repressed sexual desires. This theme resonates throughout “Frankenstein”. There is an all pervading sense of sexual repression, a blight upon the age. The notion that an immortal being could be created and then given life by a mad scientist was in itself a shocking concept.
However Frankenstein manufactured an unearthly and ageless being, utilising the tools of science. It was an entirely artificial construction devoid of original sin and in his own godlike vision it was a creature destined to supersede the follies of mortal men and eventually transcend death itself. Frankenstein himself does not feel ashamed that he has meddled with nature. He only feels a sense of enormous personal achievement, as the inventor of an entirely new kind of creature, one that will never die.
His delusions of grandeur render him a secular deity, entirely detached from the historical and clerical foundations of European civilisation. Imagining a creature that is neither dead nor alive in the conventional sense is now a familiar literary trope, but it was an innovative idea for the time. This was a time of political foment on the continent, particularly in France.
In spite of growing alarm in Britain, the antics of the French revolutionaries left a trail of devastation. They were defiantly and belligerently anti-clerical and looted the churches and monasteries. It was a repudiation of the proud legacy of religious women who raised the status of women after the indignities of Pagan Rome. They had chosen to devote their lives to Christ for centuries, until the revolutionaries forced them to relinquish their property and divest themselves of their visibly religious status. In 1794, 16 Carmelite nuns refused to surrender to them and they were arrested and put to death. Each nun approached the guillotine in calm defiance singing a hymn to the Holy Spirit, their voices silenced by the sound of the blade. It was a scene of true courage.
Percy Shelley was another louche scion of the aristocracy. Shelley also had Byronic characteristics. He too, was profligate, promiscuous and almost by default, intensely alluring to women. The young Mary Godwin was just one out of many young women who had fallen under his spell. Their alliance was scandalous, and they too were exiled to Europe. Yet Europe was unfamiliar, strange and detached from civilisation. It was a continent that would be torn apart by the Napoleonic wars. The Faustian spirit that inspired the greatest art and literature also contained the seeds of its own destruction.
Ponderings 