USEFUL & HELPFUL: Arms & Armour of the English Civil Wars

Arms and Armour of the English Civil Wars, by David Blackmore (Edited by Royal Armouries)

Though its writing style is a bit less than smooth, this book  has been indeed useful and helpful for two reasons: the detailed explanation (with figures) of the way firearms worked, with their different locks (match-lock, flint-lock, yadda yadda yadda) and the quoting of contemporary sources to illustrate the examples, which was a nice touch.

At 8.50 pounds second-hand at Waterstones in Bloomsbury it was a bit pricey, I admit, but the book is generous in images and it sure was inspirational, so I'm not really complaining.

A trip to Chichester cathedral

This past week I was in Chichester for a couple of hours for reasons that had nothing to do with the 17th century but I thought that I might as well keep up my search of all things related to the English Civil War. Or maybe this was an afterthought - for when I stepped inside Chichester's cathedral my only thoughts were for my love of these buildings and of poetry. Maybe one has to be a convinced atheist like me to be as much in love with cathedrals and churches as I am. Because when you take God out of the equation you are left alone with the truth of these beautiful, almost impossible places.

The building of the cathedral started on 1076, after the Council of London decided to move the cathedral from nearby Sesley to Chichester. Small for a cathedral, Chichester was when constructed a typical example of Norman style, but after the fire of 1187 Early Gothic elements were added. We are in Early Gothic country then and I must say that's where I feel most at ease. I like transition art forms and traces of more primitive styles to show up, specially in architecture. Chichester is a weird place, though, in that it mixes this very old enviroment with a lot of nods to modern - indeed modernist - art: there's a stunning tinted window by Marc Chagall, tapestries by John Piper and a painting by Graham Sutherland. All of this resting perfectly besides the Tudor painting of Kings and Queens of England and past bishops by Lambert Barnard that dominate the transepts. Wonderful incongruences. The most famous piece in the cathedral, though, is a medieval tomb for a knight and his wife. This particular sculpture depicts the couple holding hands, an unusual show of public affection for the times (and the status of the knight as well). Even if there has been some controversy around this tomb (is the hand-holding a later addition and not the astonishing medieval rarity all believed it to be?) one can't help to be a little in awe at the sight, specially if one keeps in mind (there's a reproduction by the side of the tomb, in case you forget) Philip Larkin's unbearably beautiful poem:

‘ Side by side, their faces blurred,
The earl and countess lie in stone,
Their proper habits vaguely shown
As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
And that faint hint of the absurd -
The little dogs under their feet.

Such plainness of the pre-baroque
Hardly involves the eye, until
It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still
Clasped empty in the other; and
One sees, with a sharp tender shock,
His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.

They would not think to lie so long.
Such faithfulness in effigy
Was just a detail friends would see:
A sculptor's sweet commissioned grace
Thrown off in helping to prolong
The Latin names around the base.

They would no guess how early in
Their supine stationary voyage
The air would change to soundless damage,
Turn the old tenantry away;
How soon succeeding eyes begin
To look, not read. Rigidly they

Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light
Each summer thronged the grass. A bright
Litter of birdcalls strewed the same
Bone-littered ground. And up the paths
The endless altered people came,

Washing at their identity.
Now, helpless in the hollow of
An unarmorial age, a trough
Of smoke in slow suspended skeins
Above their scrap of history,
Only an attitude remains:

Time has transfigures them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love.  ’

(The tomb and the poem got me thinking a lot. I confess to being very shaken by it - I was fascinated by the fact that this very private gesture - the tomb was not meant to be seen by strangers, it was in the knight's house until it was destroyed, never meant to be displayed in a cathedral - ends up being spied on and reinterpreted by those who come upon it. It might as well have been all an invention: love is not there until we invent it. It got me thinking about private affections being transformed by and into stories. Yes, of course, it got me thinking about my novel.)

I would have been perfectly content with all this: it's a small, wonderful cathedral. But I also discovered some Civil War connections that sparked my imagination. 

When the Civil War broke out in 1942 Chichester declared for the King but the Parliament being strong in the South the army seiged the city. The cathedral itself was a dramatic site, ocuppied and plundered during the siege. (I already have Model Army soldiers sleeping in a desecrated church in the beginning scenes of my book but I wouldn't be surprised if Chichester cathedral ends up getting its way into my story as well somehow). The leader of the Parliamentarian forces in Chichester was William Cawley, son of a wealthy brewer and three times mayor of Chichester, John Cawley - pictured, remembered in this portrait in the cathedral. Fascinatingly so William Cawley was one of the men who signed Charles I's death sentence, and he had to flee England come the Restoration.

So, Civil War connections indeed. I got more than I bargained for. Thank you, Chichester.

Epilogue: Simon Armitage's new book came out while I was in Chichester, and since I always make a point of buying a book whenever I can if I visit a new city or town, and since I couldn't wait to read my favourite living poet's new volume, I was glad to pick up a copy:

April 23: Favourite Shakespeare Books Post

I am a compulsive Shakespeare-related reader and over the years my bookshelves have filled and overspilled with biographies of the man from Stratford-upon-Avon and studies about his work, even with manga-like comic adaptations of dubious graphic quality. One has to fill her library with light and there's no light brighter than Will's words. So to celebrate today his 446th birthday I just thought I'd talk about some of my favourite (non-fiction) books about him.

1599: A Year In The Life of William Shakespeare, by James Shapiro.
Most Shakespeare biographies fail because there's so little we know for certain about the man that it all ends being conjecture without the honesty of admitting it. Flights of fancy are welcome, provided you don't try to pass them as academia. Here James Shapiro takes a clever, reductive angle. He writes about just ONE YEAR in the life of the playwright; but with a limited structure he lets his readers navigate the world of Elizabethan London on their own, letting the details of the period come alive and with a clear narrative flair. It also has one of the best opening scenes in any book, fiction or non-fiction: the image of Shakespeare and fellow company actors carrying the wood of their old theatre across a frozen Thames is obviously apocrypha, but unforgettable.

Shakespeare, by Anthony Burgess.
Word-boy and cleverest of the clever, novelist Anthony Burgess wrote the book I love most in the world (Nothing Like The Sun) on this very subject: an imagined life of Shakespeare. But here it's that novel's non-fiction twi - a sharp and concise biography of the poet, accesible to any reader. A thin, wonderful volume. It is a great book to kick off your Shakespeare readings, if you've never picked up a biography of the man.

Will In The World: How Shakespeare Became Shakespeare, by Stephen Greenblatt.
A deep, lyrical, excellently-researched meditation on how the events in Shakespeare's life and the period he lived in could have influenced, coloured and facilitate the writer's work. With a fortunate focus on Shakespeare's language, this is a book to keep near you at all times.

Shakespeare's Language, by Frank Kermode.
If you are a word-geek like me, obsessed with the way Will Shakespeare was obssessed with language, this is the book for you. Kermode has a keen eye and explains things very well, even I - who doesn't have English as my first language - could get through the whole business easily. It explores the peculiar language of each play extensively, but never gets too academic for the average reader.

REVIEW: Music And Silence, by Rose Tremain

Title: Music and Silence
Author: Rose Tremain
Pages: 464
Rating: 4.5/5
Bought/Borrowed/Loaned: Bought 2nd hand from amazon.co.uk

SUMMARY
Music and Silence is many things, encompasses many stories and moments, fleeting, magical, painful moments. But at its centre is Peter Claire, an English lute player who arrives in the court of King Christian IV of Denmark in 1630. The king soon takes a liking to Peter, calling him his "angel" due to Peter's good looks, and asking the Englishman to be his personal aide and help in times of need. Christian is a contradictory man, haunted by the past, pained by his unrequited love for his wife the Queen Kirsten, who is conducting a not-so-discreet adulterous affair. A mirror image of Peter's role the queen has employed a new lady-in-waiting at the time of Peter's arrival in Denmark: Emilia Tilsen, a quiet and compassionate girl, becomes the queen's confidant. Both Peter and Emilia are escaping from their painful pasts and find themselves, almost inevitably, drawn to each other, seeking love and comfort amidts the royal intrigues and the sorrows of a country in ruin.

REVIEW
The biggest strength of Music and Silence is its kaleidoscopic nature. The accumulation of stories, small in scope or important, like grains of sand that together make up the true landscape of this work. The point of view changes and so do the narrative voices, and the non-chronological plot made me enjoy this book so much, in a way that I had not enjoyed Restoration - maybe the voice in that one was too detached, too clever to begin with, and while that fitted the narrator perfectly, I felt it lacked some heart. There's plenty of heart in Music and Silence, and while occassionally sentimentaly shows its ugly head but otherwise Tremain has an admirable command of her material. Many images will stick to the reader's mind: for me it's the teenage King Christian tending to his best friend Bror during his illness, fighting off Death with the power of writing, the power of names, words.

As a historical novel, which what we are interested in now, this is an example of what should be done: a story told in a shamelessly modern style, which illuminates the 17th century through human detail and lyricism, not dead fact. The gorgeous writing, rather than the predictable character or the thin plot, is what grabs us here. A fine example of literary novel in a historical setting and using history for its own purposes, rather than a historical novel that dispatches literary style as useless, which sadly is what happens with almost every labelled historical novel I've met with.

Henrich Schütz - Psalm 150

A Visit To Turnham Green

These glriously sunny days are an invitation for a little trip around the city. All Civil War-related, of course.

Today I decided to venture a journey to the west in search of Turnham Green. It shames me to admit that I do not know the West of London very well, compared to other neighbourhood, which is ironic considering I live pretty much on the west. Research can get you out of your comfort zone and expeditions are literal as well as inner.

From UK Battlefields Resource Centre:

The battle of Turnham Green was fought on the 13th November 1642. Following the battle of Edgehill, and after taking Banbury and Oxford, the royalist army eventually advanced on London along the Thames valley. On 12th a royalist detachment attacked two parliamentarian regiments quartered in Brentford, which were covering the approach to London from the west. The royalists were victorious but their army was delayed by the parliamentarian resistance and halted, probably on Turnham Green at nightfall. This allowed the parliamentary field army and London militia to form-up on Turnham Green and Chiswick common field the next day.

Both armies appear to have deployed in traditional 17^th century style with cavalry on the flanks and infantry in the centre. The parliamentarian line extended further than that of the King’s army on the northern side of the battlefield and the royalists deployed musketeers in the hedgerows there to counter this threat. These were driven out by parliamentarian troops, which then outflanked the royalists on that flank with a march to Acton. Despite this favourable position the parliamentarian commander, the earl of Essex, recalled this detachment due to fear over splitting his army and the battle settled into a stalemate. The royalist army was too small to force its way past the parliamentarian forces and, as night fell, the King had to withdraw.

Recriminations occurred on both sides following the battle. On the royalist side, there were some who judged the King had missed an opportunity to end the war, though in reality had he launched an attack on the parliamentarian lines his own army would probably have been defeated. Others on the parliamentarian side, who saw Turnham Green as a missed opportunity to defeat the royalist army, particularly following the successful outflanking manoeuvre, probably had more of a case.

Turnham Green is now largely encompassed by the urban development of Greater London. However there are limited areas which remain undeveloped – parts of Turnham Green and Acton Green, though now municipal parkland, provide a sense of the open ground, which extended as far south as Chiswick House in the 17^th century.

Turnham Green is one of the few chances to visit Civil War battlefields inside London and since I'm short of cash to make trips to more glamurous locations like Edgehill at least for the moment, I took the bus towards Chiswick with high spirits and a copy of Eliot's The Wasteland in my bag, pen and paper, and my camera. (I always carry poetry with me, it's absolutely balsamic.)

Chsiwick itself is a tranquil and pretty part of the city; an explosion of green and things that scream "local goverment", with that feeling of tight community one finds in a village, not in a metropolis. It also looks tremendously fashionable and unaffordable.

Turnham Green turned out to be a small, flat, humble business of a park, not really atmospheric. This is the closest the Royalists came to London. I tried not to feel too esoteric about it - much as I like the idea of psychogeography I think of it as more of a poetic notion than real phenomena. But the sunlight was generous and the noises were few and I spent a nice morning sitting on benches reading and writing.


Then it was time to change scenery and make the most of a day in the West and in the 17th century but visiting another cultural, if less well-known, spot. After a long stroll along the Thames - strange, unfamiliar sights and moods, like those near the Steam Museum, and the treetops of Kew on the other side - I set off for Boston Manor Park.



The house in Boston Manor Park was built in 1623 and only converted into a house-museum in the early 20th century. The park itself is a mix of the mundane and the wild, with spots you'd find in Regent's or Hyde Park and then dark, untamed corners. (A man walking his dog passed my way and we exchange greetings - that doesn't happen in Spain, you don't exchange greetings at public parks, not in my experience anyway). The Lake was definitely a highlight. It felt refreshing under the shadow of the trees and once again I was reminded of my love of public parks.



I was excited to see the 17th century house - it looked interesting from the outside, not too grand - but alas, I had made a mistake checking the opening times and it was not open today. Oh well. The walk alone was worth it.


More info about the Battle of Turnham Green from the BBC.

Check out the website of the Friends of Boston Manor for history of the house and events.

News: New Shakespeare

Double Falsehood; or, the Distrest Lovers had been thought a "false Shakespeare", a hoax, for over two centuries. Now the Arden Shakespeare has decided to publish a complete version, placing it in the Shakespeare canon, and the Royal Shakespeare Company will stage a version of it this next summer at Stratford-upon-Avon. The version is being developed by associate director Gregory Doran. The story is based on parts of Cervantes' Quixote.

Read the whole article in The Times.

REVIEW: Havoc, in its Third Year, by Ronnan Bennett

Title: Havoc, In Its Third Year
Author: Ronnan Bennett
Pages: 320
Rating: 4/5
Bought/Borrowed/Loaned: Bought at Waterstone's Notting Hill


SUMMARY

Set during the very tense times of 1630s in England Havoc opens with its protagonist, John Brigge, coroner and governor of a small, tight community in the cold north, is called to examine the case of a baby murdered by its mother, a helpless Irish woman. Brigge's own wife is about to give birth for the first time and the character is assaulted by fears and bad premonitions. The town is on the brink of war with itself, the Puritans taking over the goverment of the place and becoming more restless in their prosecution of Catholics. Brigge himself is of the "old faith" and so he only brings more suspicions upon himself when he appears determined to defend the Irish woman's innocence, searching for the truth of the crime whatever the cost.


REVIEW
A curious thing happened in reading this novel: as I was going through the pages I was liking the book, indeed enjoying it, but I didn't think too much of it in terms of quality, somehow I considere it "minor". But then in hindsight I realized I was more impressed with the book than I thought initially.

Bennett delivers an atmospheric book, easy to read and hard to forget - the sombre mood, the constant hissing of the wind, the feeling of riding in the middle of the night, in complete darkness. The writing, deceptively simple, is very powerful and paints a very believable picture of a world on the edge, a prelude of sorts to what's to come, the open Civil War. This aspect of the book was very relevant to me and my research because I felt like Bennett had succeeded in taking the reader to those years, that soil, the constant threat in the air, the thinly-veiled Puritan inquisitions, the centuries-old prejudices against the Irish... The mystery and thriller elements of the book were less interesting to me, because in general I'm not interested in those genres. It's not a perfect book: it has some false steps (the protagonist predictable relationship with the young maid) and some of the dialogue felt a bit forced in places (the authorities and their threats) but in the end it's a gorgeous book, with sharp, tight language that never makes the mistake of trying to copy 17th century speech but at the same time feels very much of the period. That is the illusion good historical novel writers should be after. That is Ronan Bennett's triumph.