Katherine Stewkeley’s Epitaph

I came across this in All Saints’ Church, Hinton Ampner in Hampshire. Memorial inscriptions from this period are unremittingly laudatory: this one is intriguing. What had Katherine done, or become, to be “in some things misunderstood of Heights and Distances”? And what does “Whilst ’tis a Crime to be refin’d/Aboue the present Age” refer to?

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KATHERINE, ye wife of Sir Hugh Stewkeley of Hinton
Ampner and Daughter and heire of Sir Iohn Trott, both of
this County Barrs. dyed Oct. 21st and was here buried
No: ye 7th 1679
Every stage of her life was adorn’d with its proper Character
she was an Obedient Daughter, a virtuous wife
An Indulgent Mother
She was equall to the Wisdom of the bravest of Men
Freindlie to the Ignorance of the meanest of Women
Yet she was not altogether exempt from the
Comon fate which attends all Eminencie of Parts
of being in some things misunderstood
Of Heights and Distances,
What certaine Judgment can the Vulgar make
Where in the wise with all their Art mistake
Those of mean Parts uncensur’d liue and Dye
They’ue nothing to provoke an Envious Eye
The dull oblige Mankind
And all their Loue Engage
Whilst ‘tis a Crime to be refin’d
Aboue the present Age.

The Battle of Waterloo

John Robert Hume, Deputy Inspector of Medical Staff, describes in awestruck tones the courage on the treatment table of the Earl of Uxbridge, was hit by French cannon-fire in the closing moments of the Battle of Waterloo. “By God, sir, I’ve lost my leg!” he exclaimed to the Duke of Wellington. “By God, sir, so you have!” replied the Duke.

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“I found on inspection that a grape shot had struck him on the right knee, externally fracturing the head of the tibia end, cutting the outer hamstring in two. The capsular ligament was filled with fragments of bone and cartilage like gravel. His lordship was perfectly cool, his pulse was calm and regular as if he had just risen from his bed in the morning and he displayed no expression of uneasiness though his suffering must have been extreme. Most remarkable was his excessive composure, though he had been personally present in almost every one of the many charges made by the cavalry during the battle.

“I announced to Lord Uxbridge that, the operation being found necessary, the sooner it was performed the better. He said, ‘Very well, I am ready.’ “I took the knife in my hand. Lord Uxbridge said, ‘Tell me when you are going to begin.’ I replied, ‘Now, my Lord.’ He laid his head upon the pillow and, putting his hand up to his eyes, said, ‘Whenever you please.’

“He neither uttered groan or complaint [during the amputation] nor gave any sign of impatience or uneasiness. The stump was dressed in the usual manner and his Lordship, having drank a very small quantity of weak wine and water, was undressed and made as comfortable as the miserable bed upon which he was stretched would allow him to be. His skin was perfectly cool, his pulse which I was curious enough to count gave only 66 beats to the minute, and so far was he from exhibiting any symptoms of what he had undergone in his countenance that I am quite certain, had anyone entered the room, they would have inquired of him where the wounded man was.”

Decline & Fall

This is required reading for anyone who, like me, has spent a while as Junior Master in a boys’ prep school.

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“Sent down for indecent behaviour, eh?” said Mr Levy, of Church & Gargoyle, scholastic agents. “Well, I don’t think we’ll say anything about that. In fact officially, mind, you haven’t told me. We call that sort of thing “Education discontinued for personal reasons”, you understand.” He picked up the telephone. “Mr Samson, have we any “education discontinued” posts, male, on hand? ... Right … Bring it up, will you? I think”, he added, turning again to Paul, “we have just the thing for you.”

A young man brought in a slip of paper.

“What about that?”

Paul read it:

Private and Confidential Notice of Vacancy

Augustus Fagan, Esquire, Llanabba Castle, N. Wales, requires immediately Junior assistant master to teach Classics and English to University standard with subsidiary Mathematics, German and French. Experience essential; first class games essential.

Status of school: School

Salary offered: £120 resident post

Reply promptly but carefully to Dr Fagan (“Esq. Ph.D.” on envelope), enclosing copies of testimonials and photographs, if considered advisable, mentioning that you have heard of the vacancy through us.

“Might have been made for you,” said Mr Levy.

“But I don’t know a word of German, I’ve had no experience, I’ve got no testimonials, and I can’t play cricket.”

“It doesn’t do to be too modest,” said Mr Levy. “It’s wonderful what one can do when one tries. Why, only last term we sent a man who had never been in a laboratory in his life as Science Master to one of our leading public schools. He came to us wanting to do private coaching in music. He’s doing very well, I believe. Besides, Dr Fagan can’t expect all that for the salary he’s offering. Between ourselves, Llanabba hasn’t a good name in the profession. We class schools, you see, into four grades: Leading School, First-rate School, Good School and School. Frankly,” said Mr Levy, “School is pretty bad. I think you’ll find it a very suitable post. So far as I know, there are only two other candidates, and one of them is totally deaf, poor fellow.”

Decline and Fall, Evelyn Waugh, Chapman & Hall 1928

Martial (c. 38 to c. 104 AD)

The Happy Life: Martial’s recipe is well known. James Michie’s verse translation brilliantly captures the economy of the Latin, but still has to use twice as many words.

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Of what does the happy life consist,
My dear friend Julius? Here’s a list:
Inherited wealth, no need to earn,
Fires that continually burn,
And land that gives a fair return,
No lawsuits, formal togas worn
Seldom, a calm mind, the freeborn
Gentleman’s health and good physique,
Tact with the readiness to speak
Openly, friends of your own mind,
Guests of an easy-going kind,
Plain food, a table simply set,
Nights sober but wine-freed from fret,
A wife who’s true to you and yet
No prude in bed, and sleep so sound
It makes the day come quickly round.
Be pleased with what you are, keep hope
Within that self-appointed scope:
Neither uneasily apprehend
Nor morbidly desire the end.

Michaelmas Sessions 1833

This case relates to a man named Isaac Spencer, who, believing that selling his wife publicly in the market place, with a halter round her neck, would have the full force of a divorce legally obtained, took his wife (equally willing to try a change of circumstances) into the public market at Melksham, and there disposed of her for 2s. 6d. to a man named William Watts. Both were committed to prison for the offence, but Watts was acquitted.

County of Wiltshire, Fisherton Gaol, STATISTICS OF CRIME, 1801–1850.

The Onion

The Anglo-Saxons were fond of word-play, especially riddles. Here is a mildly rude one from the 10th-century Exeter Book, also in alliterative poetic form.

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I am a wonderful creature, a pleasure to women, useful to neighbours; no citizens do I injure, except my destroyer. My build is tall. I stand in a bed, hair around underneath me. Sometimes there comes a very beautiful peasant’s daughter, lascivious girl, makes me all red, ravages my head, takes me in. She soon feels my closeness, she who forced me in, the curly-haired woman. Wet is her eye.

The answer? An Onion.

The Vampire

For years I have admired the line “timide et libertine, et fragile et robuste” but didn’t know it came from Baudelaire’s poem about a vampire.

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Moi, j’ai la lèvre humide, et je sais la science
De perdre au fond d’un lit l’antique conscience.
Je sèche tous les pleurs sur mes seins triomphants,
Et fais rire les vieux du rire des enfants.
Je remplace, pour qui me voit nue et sans voiles,
La lune, le soleil, le ciel et les étoiles!
Je suis, mon cher savant, si docte aux voluptés,
Lorsque j’étouffe un homme en mes bras redoutés,
Ou lorsque j’abandonne aux morsures mon buste,
Timide et libertine, et fragile et robuste,
Que sur ces matelas qui se pâment d’émoi,
Les anges impuissants se damneraient pour moi!

Baudelaire, 1860s, tr. George Dillon:

(My lips are moist and yielding, and I know the way
To keep the ancient demon of remorse at bay.
All sorrows die upon my breasts. I can make
Old men laugh happily as children for my sake.
For him who sees me naked, I replace
The sun, the moon, and all the stars of the sky!
Believe me, learnèd sir, I am so deeply skilled
That when I wind a lover in my soft arms, and yield
My breasts like two ripe fruits for his devouring —
Shy and abandoned, delicate and strong —
Upon this bed that groans and sighs luxuriously
Even the impotent angels would go to hell for me!)

Amphibiology

Reading my old friend Christopher Reid’s work over the years, I am struck by the vividness and range of his imagery. I asked him to choose one of his poems for Plenty of Grapes and this is the one he chose.

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Like old men frolicking in sacks
seals slither on the sea-thrashed rocks.

Why does their melancholy sport
exert such a strong pull on my heart?

I could stand here for hours on end
watching them fail to make dry land.

From time to time one gains brief purchase,
adopting the pose of a Grand Duchess.

In seconds, though, a fist of surf

rises to swipe the pretender off.

Repetitive slapstick,
it has the charm of earliest documentary film.

Stuffed statesmen and wind-up warriors
turn to salute us across the years…

Only, in this case, something far
more ancient seems to hang in the air.

It could be the question, whether to plump
for a great evolutionary jump
 
or stay put in the icy brine.
May the good Lord send them a hopeful sign!

Amphibiology, from In the Echoey Tunnel, Christopher Reid, Faber 1991