New Corn From The Old Fields

The English poet Geoffrey Chaucer was believed to be the first writer to popularise the romantic myth of St. Valentine’s Day. Originally it was solely a religious observance dedicated to the martyrdom of a Christian saint, persecuted under Roman rule. However there is only a tenuous connection between the saint and romantic love. St Valentine was assumed to officiate at Christian weddings for his fellow soldiers, but this has not been proven to be historically true. It is probable that this later addition to the legend was an attempt to combine a Christian celebration with an older, pagan ceremonial event that focused upon the mating rituals of animals in early spring.

Chaucer started the tradition that we know today with his paean to romantic love. This was immortalised in a long poem entitled “The Parliament of Fowls”. At the beginning of the poem Chaucer introduces the narrator. He is an extremely earnest young scholar reading Cicero’s “Somnium Scipionis”, in a bid to acquire eternal wisdom. However he falls asleep and experiences a vivid dream.

In English poetic tradition dreams are employed as a literary device. Dream visions are utilised to encapsulate the mysterious and supernatural, and illustrate the state of suspension between the living and the dead. The dream itself acts as a kind of prophecy, to illuminate the meaning of life on Earth, and in the hereafter. In the dream, he encounters a parallel world, teeming with nature. He finds himself observing a Parliament of birds, specially assembled to deliberate over the appropriate choice of mate. The debate begins with three male eagles presenting their case for one female eagle. The eagles and other noble birds of prey are at the top of the bird hierarchy, and at the very bottom are the humble songbirds found in every garden. During the deliberations, the other birds quarrel and squabble. The cacophony eventually concludes when Nature intervenes to proclaim that every bird has a right to choose their mate.

The poem is an allegory, and the birds symbolise the social order in human civilisation. Chaucer lived during a period of rigid social roles. In the upper echelons of society it was normal for families to arrange marital unions, to maintain their high status within society. It would have been regarded as unusual to choose a spouse for oneself.

However the medieval period was also a time when codes and conventions surrounding the appropriate relations between men and women were still being established. It was the age of chivalry, a relatively new concept originating with the Christian crusades. Chivalry used to be defined as the just conduct of Knights, but it was later extended into the cultural and literary world. The literature that emerged, expanded the theme of justice and explored other virtues expected from the Knightly class. These virtues included courage, piety, honour and nobility.

In pre-Christian Europe, the dignity of women was rarely considered but the chivalric code changed that and Knights were commanded to respect “ladies”. Consequently the romantic tradition of Knights performing feats of tremendous bravery to win the hearts of ladies was born. These legends have formed the basis of romantic literature ever since, and are a staple of Valentine’s Day.

The notion that a man has to win the affections of a woman to secure marriage is unique to Christian Europe, other cultures do not practice this. It is sad that there is more cynicism about this in modern, secular Europe. Many people are unaware that without this tradition, our civilization will be rendered meaningless, but there are some of us who still seek to preserve it for our future.

From the Hills to the Hollows

February 2nd is a date of immense significance. It is Candlemas, the annual commemoration of the presentation of the baby Jesus at the Temple. Candlemas also coincides with an earlier, pre-Christian celebration within the British Isles, known as Imbolc. However, like many of the rites and rituals that are continually recalled and performed within these islands, these two once distinct traditions have been subsumed into one symbolic celebration of the first day of spring.

The first bloom of snowdrops is the first indication that the colder weather is waning. In primitive times the season was devoted to cleansing rituals; there was a deeply cathartic element attached to these activities. The people who participated in these rites felt that they were banishing darkness in preparation for the brighter days ahead. Daily existence in a chiefly agrarian economy was fraught, and eventual survival after the harsh winter months was never certain.

Our ancestors were connected to the land, a sense of connection that has been severed in the wake of modernity. Modernity has improved our lives in numerous ways. We have more convenience, comfort and we are not compelled to stay in one place to survive and earn a living. However modernity has also engendered an unsettling feeling of alienation and displacement. When we are reduced to faceless workers wandering a rapidly diminishing landscape we undoubtedly lose our sense of identity and belonging. In the past we were constrained by necessity to eke out a living on the land as it was the only resource that sustained us.

We were far more attuned to the natural world and understood how the change in weather could alter our circumstances. It could literally mean life or death, for our livestock and our crops. The landscape that surrounded us had an actual living presence. The severity of the winter months meant that optimal levels of physical and emotional resilience were essential for endurance.

In these most abject situations, a healthy imagination was crucial. It is wrong to dismiss storytelling as an impracticality or a silly indulgence. Myth performs a vital function in every nation. Creating mythology is an act of sublimation. Myths engender a shared feeling of warmth and familiarity, even in the most dark and inhospitable surroundings. This is the central theme of the Imbolc festivities.

One of the mythical figures invoked is “Jack Frost” , the embodiment of everything cold, barren and bleak. He is symbolic of the often deadening nature of winter itself. Jack Frost is in a perennial battle with “The Green Man”, a benign figure representing rebirth and the promise of new life. These stories were brought vividly to life in every community across the country, in the form of public dramas. Everyone recognised these tales and legends. Recalling them every year helped maintain morale in austere and challenging times. Nowadays very few villages maintain these traditions, but perhaps it is time that we revive them, to remind us of our roots.

The Human Factor

On the 30th January 1994, the French author Pierre Boulle died. Boulle led an extraordinary and eventful life. In his long and illustrious literary career, which lasted forty years he published thirty novels and several short story collections. However very few people are aware of the astounding and courageous role he played in wartime, the key to understanding his motivations as a writer.

He was born in Avignon in 1912, and studied at the Supelec, a renowned technical college in France. He qualified as an engineer in 1933. Three years later he was sent to Malaya to work as a technician for a British owned rubber plantation. He remembered this time with fondness, as he cultivated warm friendships with his English colleagues. He developed a deep empathy and appreciation for English culture, and this feeling never left him. This was just one, out of numerous experiences which left a profound impact upon his writing.

When the Second World War broke out, he signed up as a recruit for the Free French forces based in Indochina. In 1941 he was dispatched to Singapore to a secondment known as Force 136, a secret mission run by the Special Operations Unit. He underwent rigorous training and learnt the delicate arts of subterfuge and espionage. He adopted the pseudonym Peter Rule, and worked as a spy in Burma and China. However his cover was eventually blown when he was captured in Laichau, near Hanoi by a French officer who was loyal to the Vichy regime.

He was arrested and then imprisoned in a camp, where he was sentenced to indefinite hard labour. However he managed to escape from his captors, just as the War ceased in South-East Asia. His lived experience of the War altered his perceptions about people in a fundamental way. The brutality and extremity he endured shaped his views about humanity in general, and this gigantic shift in perception remained with him forever. When he returned to France he reflected on his experiences, and he realised that these massive quandaries about human existence were far too large to ignore. He was a trained scientist, but this series of epiphanies convinced him to embark on a different career as a writer.

Surviving the war made him reconsider whether concepts like civilisation and barbarism were binary, and whether universal human values actually existed. He was also sceptical whether cultures were actually separate, fixed and eternal. He questioned this, because in desperate times notions of morality were not absolute, they were severely tested. The supposed dichotomy between East and West was not that clear, because he had encountered both cultures. This indicated to him that the division was blurred.

It became the basis of his third novel “Bridge On The River Kwai”. His previous two novels were inspired by the novelists Joseph Conrad and Somerset Maugham, who provided the important philosophical themes that underpinned his successive work.

Conrad himself encountered the clash of competing world civilisations; this was a key theme in his novels, particularly “Heart of Darkness”.

Conrad’s influence emanates from the opening lines of the book,

“Maybe the unbridgeable gulf that some see separating the western and oriental souls are nothing more than a mirage?…Maybe the need to `save face`was, in this war, as vital, as imperative, for the British as it was for the Japanese”.

These thoughts, evinced by the upright British officer, Colonel Nicholson are illuminating. He poses a vital question, not just about the distinction between the Eastern sensibility and the Western one, but the fragility of human civilisation itself, as it faces the prospect of annihilation in a World War.

However, human civilisation did survive, albeit by a thread when the War ended. Maintaining the threads that hold society together was much harder in the aftermath. He was acutely aware, perhaps more than others, that peace on Earth is never guaranteed.

He understood the reasons behind humankind’s perpetual war with itself, the inherently fickle nature of humans, and their delicate egos. This was explored in 1963, when he published “Planet of the Apes”, a book set in the future when every vestige of civilisation on Earth has been extinguished. The only human survivors decide to travel to another planet, with a parallel civilisation that rivals the one that they had left behind.

On this distant planet, a colony of apes has created a society which seems much more cultured and egalitarian than human society on Earth. When the human visitors land, the apes capture them and subject them to crude medical tests. The captured humans feel trapped and humiliated, and deeply pessimistic about their fate. They are eventually released and allowed back to their spaceship, but their once deep seated prejudices about the supposed inferiority of other animals are shaken.

This novel can be viewed as an allegory. It deals with powerful and contentious themes which are sadly still relevant today. It is difficult to extricate Boulle’s actual experience of a War which was fuelled by crude theories like scientific racism, from this fable. We are still questioning ourselves today, and it remains unanswered.

Wrestling With The Angel

On the 17th January, 1829 the religious and social reformer Catherine Booth, nee Mumford, was born. She was the daughter of a carriage builder and her parents were devout Methodists. She spent her early life in the provincial town of Ashbourne in Derbyshire. Her early childhood was steeped in spiritual intensity, and she trusted the moral authority of both her father and mother.

However at the tender and impressionable age of twelve she observed how her father’s personality changed. He was increasingly absent from the family, and he started to drink to excess. Eventually, he relinquished his faith.

Consequently, various doubts accumulated within her mind, until this stage she had never found any reason to question any aspect of her religion. She had read the entire Bible eight times, and played a major role in the Juvenile Temperance Society.

Her father’s diminishing presence in her life made her increasingly sceptical about the lessons and moral edicts that were imparted upon her. She even began to seriously reconsider the merits of the Methodist Church itself. Children who are raised in an entirely religious household will become isolated and unworldly, unless the often brutal reality of the world intrudes upon them. This was Catherine’s bitter experience, she was shielded from the very human difficulties and weaknesses, until it was visited upon her own family. Three years after her father’s crisis, the Mumford family moved to Brixton, South London.

Her mother had never wavered in her piety, in spite of her husband’s fall from grace. Catherine also continued to attend Chapel, in spite of her gnawing doubts. She took her studies and devotions seriously, and in the intervening years remained conscientious and faithful in spite of her often failing health. She endured bouts of tuberculosis, which weakened her physically and mentally, but her spiritual resolve remained intact.

Methodism as an institution and religious authority was inherently unstable during this period in its history, as there was a perpetual debate over power that could never be solved. Inevitably, a split in the ranks occurred and a new branch of “Reformed” Methodists emerged, to counter the established Methodists who sought centralised power in the ranks of the clergy. The Reformed Methodists desired an open organisation with equal roles for lay members.

Unfortunately Catherine found herself caught up in this fractious debate. She was a fierce advocate for a more democratic organisation which ultimately led to her expulsion from the established Methodists. Fortunately she was rehabilitated by the Reformed Methodist movement, who employed her as a Sunday school teacher.

In 1851, she met William Booth, another exile from mainstream Methodism. He found his true calling after his experience working in a pawnbroker’s shop. He was appalled by the desperate circumstances of his clients. He was shocked by the extent of the poverty, and the indignity afflicting a proud community.

William delivered fervent sermons to the congregations of London’s Chapels. He was still a lay preacher at this point, and longed to leave the business of pawn shops. Luckily, his impressive talents as an orator were noticed by wealthy shoe manufacturer, and Reformed Methodist patron, Mr. Rabbits. Rabbits offered to mentor William and help him financially, allowing him to leave his job. Rabbits also introduced William to Catherine. Four years later they married.

The Booths were very similar in temperament. Their emotional intensity created tensions in their relationship, but it was their zeal that was integral to their ambition. William and Catherine combined forces to become travelling evangelists. Their mission was stark and unequivocal, to save those who had strayed from the path and lead them on to true salvation.

Unlike the staid clergy, they were unafraid to travel to inhospitable areas of London’s East End, where they encountered hostility. Their message of temperance was not popular with everyone. The landlords of the local pubs were fearful of losing their clients and livelihoods and paid local people to interrupt their meetings. Some threw bricks, rubbish and dead cats at them.

However nothing seemed to deter them, because they had succeeded in saving so many people. The urgency and necessity to save others from falling into sin and destitution took on a militaristic aspect when William delivered his defining sermon to the patrons of the notorious “Blind Beggar” public house in Whitechapel in 1865. While preaching he witnessed how much of Victorian England had become dark, disreputable and ignoble and it seemed that only an “Army” could rescue its reputation.

In 1878 he established a new evangelical movement, the “Salvation Army”. Booth appointed himself the first “General” and introduced a military structure. The “Army” had a unique uniform, band and rousing marching hymns. This new organisation prioritised active Christian service above traditional worship.

The Salvation Army commanded its followers or “soldiers” to minister to the most desperate in society. The soldiers effectively became social workers. Their courage and tenacity revealed the shocking and shameful failures of the British state, in its neglect of its most vulnerable citizens.

In 1890, William’s dogged determination impressed a sympathetic reporter who offered to help him write a social manifesto. “In Darkest England and the Way Out” detailed the “shambles of our civilisation” which ignored the plight of the lost, the outcast and the disinherited. The manifesto contained practical solutions, such as city shelters for those in dire need of assistance and special amenities to help train and prepare people for jobs. However, that year his beloved wife died. She had been suffering from cancer for two years.

William paid tribute to Catherine as the “most famous and influential Christian woman of the generation”. She was buried in Abney Park Cemetery, Stamford Hill. He carried on the legacy left by her and extended his work internationally.

The Salvation Army’s work has helped homeless people, addicts, families in crisis and disaster victims all over the world. The good fight continues to this day, and perhaps one day the forces of righteousness will finally be victorious.

The Man Who Read The World

On the 10th January, 2016 David Bowie died. The news of his death was met with shock and grief around the world. As an intensely private person, he had decided to keep his cancer diagnosis secret, however his final years were the most creative. He was aware that his life was coming to an end so he spent this limited time industriously.

Bowie was a singular talent. He left an indelible mark on British culture, and across the wider world. He presented various artistic personas, not least the construct of “Bowie” himself. This in itself was an artifice, because the reality was that he was David Jones, an otherwise humble and ordinary boy born in Brixton, South London who spent most of his childhood in the staid suburbs of Bromley. Conformity and provincial life often stifles those who are imaginative and creative by nature, and Bowie was no exception.

There are countless examples of artistic visionaries and eccentrics who rebelled, but there was something about Bowie that made him unique and special. His various stage incarnations did not seem to come from this planet, let alone Bromley. This country has always championed eccentrics, but wider acceptance of their non-conformity is often fraught. Establishment figures fear them, partly through misunderstanding and partly through prejudice. Mockery is their usual tool, it is a familiar tactic of bullies generally. But, bullies are fragile, and they are simply jealous of clever, imaginative people. They resort to these methods because they feel so inadequate.

The monotonous culture of seventies Britain was certainly unprepared for an extraordinary figure like Bowie, or his alter ego Ziggy Stardust. In 1972, he presented this otherworldly character at London’s Rainbow Theatre. The audience were astonished to see the silhouette of a sequinned, sparkling, glowing being in high heels and full make-up.

He was courageous to present this ambiguous performer during a time when no-one ever had even heard of the concept of gender fluidity, unlike today. Unfortunately, this provoked the scorn of that old enemy, the philistine. Philistinism was the perennial scourge of every individual thinker in provincial Britain, it was amplified in the seventies when economic hardship precluded any interest in artistic innovation.

The dull, dreary existence was reflected in the cheap, dour but functional fashions. No-one really thought that anything bright or ornamental had any purpose, this was evident when Bowie was interviewed by Russell Harty on British primetime television. Bowie was a vision of colour, as he was wearing his “Ziggy” costume. Harty, in stark contrast, was in a dark blue suit made with artificial fabric, and was shod in black patent leather loafers. The conversation between the two men is painful to watch, because the aged Harty cannot understand why the man opposite him is dressed in such an unconventional way and proceeds to ask him inane questions, without really exploring his aesthetic philosophy, or even his music.

Harty’s sneering ignorance and condescension are characteristics of the empty and shallow. Their pomposity has proven to be their ultimate downfall, and those whom they belittled and undermined have had the last laugh. Bowie became a beloved artist in this country and all over the world. In spite of his many setbacks Bowie continued in his artistic quest, an intricate and elaborate process of cultivating his own myth. Consequently, only a select few really knew the man behind the myth.

One of the most illuminating insights that emerged after his death was his prodigious reading. Pop music is often castigated as trivial entertainment with no real substance. Stars like Bowie serve to dispel this, as he was someone who was capable of great reflection. It was not widely known that while touring around the world he took a consignment of books with him, along with the prerequisite costumes and stage make-up.

Bowie was a great performer and entertainer, but he was also a great thinker. He spent his entire life searching for a universal meaning. This seems, now to be a doomed mission when so many people focus upon difference, and violence is splitting the world in two. It is admirable that someone like Bowie uses the vehicle of music to unify people, and this is his ultimate legacy.

A Hideous Phantasm

On the 1st January, 1818 “Frankenstein” by Mary Shelley was published. It was a startlingly original piece of work, not just artistically but also in terms of its profound philosophical themes. Since its publication it has been categorised into various genres, such as horror fiction, gothic fiction or suspense fiction, and even a nascent form of science fiction. However it transcends every category, as the work stands alone as Shelley’s magnum opus.

Shelley’s precocious literary talents were remarkable, considering the fact that she was only 20 years old at the time of its publication. It is even more remarkable to reflect that she was just 18 when she wrote it. However her life was far from ordinary. She was the daughter of two radicals, William Godwin and Mary Wollstonecraft. Her mother died 11 days after her birth, and this haunted her. Wollstonecraft was one of the first feminist writers, and she felt the heaviness of her inheritance. It seemed that her life was almost destined to be extraordinary.

“Frankenstein: The Modern Prometheus” was inspired by a dream that Shelley experienced whilst she was staying at Lord Byron’s home in Lake Geneva during the summer of 1816. 1816 later became known as “The Year Without A Summer” due to the after effects of a volcanic eruption in Indonesia during the late spring of 1815. The eruption released a substantial amount of atmospheric dust which blocked sunlight, and temperatures plunged. The inclement weather meant that the guests were confined indoors. Byron decided to set his literary friends a challenge, a contest to produce the best ghost story. Byron’s personal doctor, John William Polidori entertained the others with “The Vampyre”, a stark tale of a character neither alive nor dead and loosely based on the notoriety of Byron himself. This, in turn developed into a discussion on the nature of human life and its characteristics.

Shelley understood that her nightmare was significant. She found material in the vision of Frankenstein and his diabolical creation. She decided to embellish the story and present it as part of the competition. The creation of this tale has itself become part of literary legend. In turn, this legend has been incorporated into our popular culture.

The vivid and terrifying images were implanted in her mind when she recounted how, “my imagination, unbidden, possessed and guided me…the hideous phantasm of a man”. The novel itself is an allegory, a prescient warning to the world about the negative aspects of enlightenment, science and progressive political ideologies which place the ego of the individual man above the omniscience and omnipotence of God.

Mary Shelley’s reputation was severely damaged by scandal in England. Her association, and later marriage to the louche, radical poet Percy Bysshe Shelley forced her to leave the country and wander a battle scarred Europe. However as soon as she stepped foot on European soil she realised that the continent had unravelled.

The old Europe had vanished, its essential character had changed utterly and devastatingly in the wake of revolution. The promise of the revolutionaries was shattered by reality. The dramatic alteration did not liberate the people from oppression, nor did it unshackle them from the chains of dictatorship. Instead a different kind of oppressive tyranny replaced the more familiar form, inflicting yet more suffering on an already demoralised populace.

The demented fantasies of Victor Frankenstein symbolise this post-revolutionary age, in which old conventions were subverted and natural truths discounted in the name of ideological radicalism. The ancien regime had been overthrown, but the machinery of power remained intact. The new rulers simply found different methods to control and manipulate the masses. As they had repossessed the tools of absolute power, they tried to convince the public that what was once true, was in fact false. This included altering the notion of time by declaring that there were only ten hours in a day.

It was evident that in a post-revolutionary fervour, people became instantly susceptible to deception. Frankenstein himself believed that his scientific genius could create an immortal human, and break the natural cycle of birth and death. In the preface to the novel, Shelley explains how the scientist becomes corrupted. She details how he once enjoyed the “amiableness of domestic affections” but feels unsatisfied and seeks personal glory.

Frankenstein escapes his family to pursue Utopian dreams and isolates himself, determined to fashion a new creature. The result is not pretty, and this loveless creature is abandoned to his fate. It is easy to draw parallels with the doomed Shelleys who once shared the same radical ideals, but were soon tested by their travels. This became immediately clear to them as soon as they approached Switzerland. They were shocked to find that the land was stripped bare of trees, a legacy from the Napoleonic Wars. The country had been left poverty stricken and they struggled to find adequate food and shelter.

The intervening years were fraught with difficulty, and they continued their peripatetic life before settling in Italy. However tragedy struck yet again when Percy was killed in a boating accident in July 1822. Mary was consoled by the constant presence of the literary coterie that had encouraged and supported her in the years of exile. In 1851, at the age of 53 she died from a brain tumour. However, her life and work continue to inspire today.

Love Is The Fire

Christmas is a season of joy and goodwill. It is a time of charity and generosity. Every year we are reminded that it is much better to give rather than receive. However the ultimate gift was the birth of Jesus Christ, a child who was destined for great things but born in less than auspicious circumstances.

Today, Christians around the world are facing an existential threat. It is the most persecuted religion, globally. Persecution has always existed, but the character of the persecutor is new and the type of persecution is markedly different. Prejudice always arises through ignorance, but sometimes this is accidental and unintentional.

However this prejudice is different. It is a deliberate and intentional campaign to deprive the young of their spiritual inheritance. The instigators behind this campaign of ignorance are under the delusion that reason will triumph over faith. Their sole intention is to manufacture an entirely materialist and functional world, and to deny the existence of the metaphysical.

The most irritating, trite and vacuous phrase that is frequently trotted out to justify it is “the opposite of faith isn’t doubt, it is certainty”. This statement is a reflection of their inherent naivety and shallowness, because they fail to recognise that the greatest scientists throughout history used doubt to their own advantage. Certainty isn’t evidence of reason, it is actually cast iron proof of dogmatic thought.

Consequently, strange and confusing ideologies and superstitions have superseded traditional religion, in the West at least. It is the result of a younger generation attempting to find a semblance of meaning in a spiritual void. Society has fragmented, and an increasingly atomised and alienated populace are seeking a sense of community. Inevitably this has led younger people down a darker path, and the most vulnerable among them have been manipulated and exploited by very dubious, and very often devious people with their own agenda.

Now everything natural, good and true has been subverted. It is hard to survive in such a toxic modern world, and it is even harder to cling to the old ideals. Individuals who choose to reveal their religious beliefs risk abuse. This can be insidious, degrading and demeaning as the abuse is often manifested through humiliation or ridicule.

However, there is really no need to lose hope as it is worth remembering that this “cancel culture” was much harsher and deadly in the past. The most devout risked their lives. In Elizabethan times, Roman Catholics were forced to suppress their true identities. Catholics were regarded as enemies of the state, and they had to conceal themselves for their own safety.

Queen Elizabeth I was determined to enforce religious uniformity. She knew that the Kingdom could only thrive and remain stable if it was united and homogeneous. Under her reign Protestantism was to become the defining identity of the nation, and every citizen had to pledge allegiance to it.

In 1584, one of the most stringent anti-Catholic laws was passed. It stated that any English born subject who entered Catholic ministry since her accession could not remain in England longer than forty days on pain of death.

In the intervening years many Catholic Priests were put to death under this new edict. Their faith was so strong and unyielding that they were willing to become martyrs. One of the most notable Catholic Martyrs during this time was the poet-priest Robert Southwell. In the years of Catholic persecution he lived a semi-clandestine existence. He learned to imitate the sensibilities of Protestant society, but he kept his authentic beliefs secret.

The elaborate subterfuge engaged by many of these Catholic dissidents allowed a subculture of espionage to flourish. The Queen employed an entire network of spies who embedded themselves in the often secret societies of Catholic sympathisers. Southwell’s activities as a Catholic priest were uncovered after he had been under the surveillance of the Queen’s “top priest hunter” Sir Richard Topcliffe. He was arrested, imprisoned and tortured. The charge was treason, which he denied.

At the trial he denied plotting against the Queen and the Kingdom. In his defence he maintained that he only administered the sacraments according to the Roman rite. He also said that only God would judge him. Nonetheless, he was found guilty of treason and sentenced to death.

On the 21st February, 1595 he was sent to Tyburn to be executed by hanging. He was dragged through the baying crowds on a sledge. Facing the gibbet he attempted to make the sign of the cross, which was difficult as his arms were tied. He appealed to the crowd with a prayer, and the words of a psalm. As the noose was tightened he continued to pray, his prayers were so fervent that some of the witnesses believed that he was unwilling to accept his fate.

Amidst the general clamour one of the Queen’s most devoted noblemen, Lord Mountjoy jumped on to the stage and tugged on to his legs to hasten his death. After his lifeless body was taken down, his corpse was cut into quarters and he was decapitated. However when his head was revealed to the crowd, there was an eerie silence. The traditional cry of “Traitor” was noticeably absent.

Southwell’s piety and unshakeable loyalty to Rome was recognised in 1970 by Pope Paul VI when Southwell was canonised as one of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales. Southwell’s courageous example as a priest was admired, along with his visionary poetry which inspired other writers most notably William Shakespeare.

Christmas has been cheapened and trivialised in a secular, commercial society. We must never forget the spiritual roots of this most important festival, and we must continue to pray for the Christians around the world who will not have the luxury to celebrate as they continue to be persecuted. The birth of Jesus brought light to a world disfigured by darkness, this is something we must always remember as we approach the darkness ahead.

A Wandering Maze

On the 9th December, 1608 the English poet and essayist John Milton was born. Milton’s work embodies the complex and often adversarial elements of English identity and culture. The very concept of Englishness has always been open to question, almost since its inception, as it has always contained competing and contradictory elements within it. It is a fragile tapestry woven over centuries, and at times it has almost unravelled. There is a perennial fear that these threads may not be strong enough to hold us together in the future.

England’s settled status has never been guaranteed, as it has experienced episodes of political and religious tumult. In recent times, many commentators have queried whether England itself can claim permanent legitimacy as a nation, when the constituent parts of the United Kingdom appear to possess more confidence in themselves.

Milton believed that England was a nation blessed by God, and that the English were a unique people. The trials and tribulations endured by the English were just part of His plan, a test to prepare His people for a greater reward. Milton composed his verse during a time of intense religious piety, and notions about whom God had chosen as the “Elect” were common themes.

Poets and thinkers like Milton identified strongly with the struggles of the Jews in ancient Israel, and the need for self-determination in the face of persecution. The spiritual concept of Zionism resonated with Milton, and he saw an association with the cultural pride of the Jewish people and the cultural ties that bind the wider English family.

He proclaimed that,

“God reveals himself to his servants and, as his manner is, first to his Englishmen”

This was a time when national identity had a profound meaning, and English people were no different to any other cultural or ethnic group. England was not merely a part of geography, it was a special place in the hearts of English people. Every English person understood their inheritance, and respected the generations of English people who had lived before them.

Milton attended Cambridge University. His intention was to become ordained as an Anglican Priest. However his path towards this vocation was not entirely smooth, as he was an argumentative student. He quarrelled with his tutor, Bishop William Chappell, and he found the tutorials stultifying and abstruse. After graduation, he returned to his parental home where he pursued his own private studies.

He studied vast tracts of classic works in Latin and Greek, which inspired him to travel to Europe on a further course of study. Although Milton was primarily an English writer, he was influenced by European traditions. On his return, he felt a powerful impulse to write an epic poem on the state of the nation. This coincided with the English Civil War, and the urgency to produce his own insights surrounding the perilous condition of the nation became even more pressing.

The Civil War threatened the stability and uniformity that the English people took for granted. Nothing seemed certain anymore, even the position of the English as a revered race in the eyes of God. Milton wrestled with this, and used his prodigious writing skills as a conduit for his political views. He was a proud Parliamentarian, and when his side achieved victory he was appointed by Cromwell’s Republic to write propaganda pieces and to censor any opposition to the regime.

Oliver Cromwell died in 1658 and his Republic foundered. The regime rapidly dissolved into feuding military and political factions. However Milton maintained his support for an English Republic, as he believed that such a political apparatus was the only condition to ensure freedom and liberty for all. Two years later the Monarchy was restored, and Milton went into political exile. This newly restored system of government regarded the preceding propagandists with disdain, and his writing was destroyed. A warrant was issued for his arrest. He was pardoned by the King, but he was briefly imprisoned and questioned by his authorities. Luckily, Andrew Marvell, a fellow poet and one time Cromwell sympathiser and Member of Parliament interceded on his behalf and he was released without charge.

Milton reflected upon these seismic events and eventually composed the epic on the state of the nation between 1658 and 1664, and a revised, complete edition was published in 1674. The epic poem was called “Paradise Lost”, an allegory which compared the Fall of Man to the lack of grace shown to God by his chosen people on Earth, namely the English.

Milton’s stunning contribution to the English canon was tremendously influential, to future English poets who recognised the powerful truths embedded within the verse. It continues to inspire today, especially as the notion of the English nation appears to be fragmenting.

A Perpetual Contention

On the 4th December, 1679 the English philosopher Thomas Hobbes died. Hobbes was the originator of the dictum that human life was “nasty, brutish and short”, yet he was 91 years old when he died. This was a tremendous feat for the time in which he lived. In his lifetime he endured religious strife, political tumult and latterly civil war. This shaped his perceptions of the human condition in a significant way, it made him profoundly pessimistic about the essence of human nature itself.

In 1651, he published his celebrated, or perhaps now notorious and controversial treatise “Leviathan”. This is a divisive work, as it diminishes the power of the individual in favour of absolute rule. His argument proposed that men are engaged in “a perpetual contention for Honour, Riches and Authority” and only a supreme leader could maintain order amongst men.

This supreme leader is the eponymous “Leviathan”, a powerful leader with an investiture that is both pragmatic and divine. This figure has the military might to quell the violent impulses of men, and the religious authority to proclaim moral absolutes. In our modern, democratic age this philosophical position appears contentious, and seems extreme in a supposedly enlightened society. However most of us also live in a sanitised and privileged bubble, isolated from the worst examples of human behaviour. It is a completely different experience for those who live in warzones, or in countries where there are scarce resources. Life truly is “nasty, brutish and short” in those scenarios.

“Leviathan” makes perfect sense in its historical context, but when it is extricated from this it sounds like a defence of totalitarianism. In the centuries after Hobbes’ death, the concept of absolute rule led to the rise of theocracy, tyranny and political dictatorship. However Hobbes did not envisage power as potentially malign, he maintained that supreme authority was inherently benevolent.

He acquired this insight from his experience during the English Civil War. Hobbes would have imbibed the legend that Oliver Cromwell stood over the headless body of King Charles and solemnly whispered that his death was “a cruel necessity”. Cromwell understood that Kings had a moral obligation to the nation, and Charles had failed in this obligation in every single way. Cromwell’s battle was not with the concept of Monarchy, but with the Monarch himself.

Hobbes was one of the first philosophers to introduce the idea of a “social contract” between a political leader and his or her people. This is an idea that has been subject to debate ever since, from both the right and the left of the political spectrum. It is an idea that has gained particular cogency in contemporary times, as people all over the world fear the consequences of autocracy and the loss of individual liberty. It is a perpetual contention that may never be resolved, as long as human nature remains the same.

Life For Sale

On the 25th November, 1970 the Japanese writer Yukio Mishima died in a public ritual suicide. The extreme and dramatic manner in which he died was in imitation of the noble suicides enacted by the samurai in medieval Japan. Mishima’s intention was clear, he sought martyrdom and a political restoration for Japan.

On that fateful day Mishima organised a political demonstration against the increasing Western influence of the country. He, along with other sympathisers attempted a coup. The coup ended in failure, before Mishima performed seppuku, or ritual disembowelment.

Mishima has been described as a fascist, but this is a misnomer. Fascism is a purely European political concept, an atavistic throwback to the authoritarianism of the Roman Empire. Mishima’s philosophy was profoundly rooted within East Asian tradition and religion. Mishima was a defiant advocate of Japanese nationalism, and lamented the Americanisation of his nation after years of military occupation.

Mishima perceived American culture, and Western culture more broadly as shallow, materialistic and decadent. All of these elements were the antithesis of Japanese values, the deeply conservative values that were once respected. Mishima had a great insight, he understood that a nation that chooses to sacrifice its spiritual traditions for political expediency will ultimately end up selling its own soul.

It is an inconvenient truth that a nation cannot prosper on its economy alone, it requires at least a semblance of a cohesive society. Societies cannot thrive in a spiritual vacuum, all kinds of diabolical influences can corrupt and even destroy it completely.

This was the inspiration for his novel “Life For Sale”, the most bleak and nihilistic portrayal of a life undone. The protagonist has no sense of purpose or worth in his own life, so he decides to advertise the sale of his own life in a Tokyo newspaper. The responses to his offer come from the criminal underworld of the city, keen to exploit his desperation.

The novel can be viewed as an allegory for any society that chooses to sell itself out. Selling something that is inherently priceless to others who have no understanding of its value is degrading. The book, and Mishima’s short but eventful life have additional poignancy in an increasingly globalised and technocratic world.