Category: Literary History

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Terminalia God of the Boundary February 23rd

Hans Holbein the Younger Design for a Stained Glass Window with Terminus. Pen and ink and brush, grey wash, watercolour, over preliminary chalk drawing, 31.5 × 25 cm, Kunstmuseum Basel.
‘Terminus is often pictured as a bust on a boundary stone, His festival is ‘Terminalia’

Today is ‘Terminalia, the Roman day for setting land boundaries. The festival of Terminus was a pastoral outdoor festival marking the boundaries of towns and villages. It resembles the Beating of the Bounds tradition that we have in Britain. This is in recorded, in the UK, from anglo-saxon times, and still continues in some parishes. I will talk about this on Ascension Day in May.

Terminus was an old ancient God who was the God of the boundary, the border, the edge, the liminal God. Ovid says King Tarquinus swept away the old Gods on the Capital Hill and Jupiter became the Great God. All the old temples were taken down except for that of Terminus. Instead, Jupiter’s Temple was built around Terminus’ temple. They put a hole in the roof because Terminus had to be worshipped in the open air.

Terminus’s motto was “concedo nulli” which means “I yield to no one”. This was adopted by Erasmus as his personal motto in 1509.

Terminalia and the Roman Year

The Terminalia was celebrated on the last day of the old Roman year. February was the last month of the year. The rulers of Rome added an intercalary month called Mercedonius in an attempt to keep the Solar year in tune with the seasons. And when the intercalary month was added, the last five days of February were given to the month Mercedonius. The resulting ‘leap year‘ was either 377 or 378 days long. So, in those years, the 23rd of February was the Terminus of the year.

The intercalary months were added at the direction of the Pontiffs, supposedly every two or three years. But the Pontiffs were often swayed by political advantage and delayed the decision. By the time of Julius Caesar, the seasons were wildly out of sync with the calendar year. The Dictator, responded by instituting ‘the Year of Confusion’. This was over 400 days long. It brought in the Julian Calendar which realigned the calendar back in line with the seasons. It resolved the problem by a leap day every four years. This was based on the almost correct calculation of a solar year being 365.25 days. It was another 1500 years before that inaccuracy was corrected. By which time the year was another 11 days out of kilter, and the Julian Year was replaced by the Gregorian Year,

For more on Leap Years and the Roman Year look at my post here.

Ovid & Terminalia

Here is what Ovid, in ‘Fasti’ says about Terminalis


When night has passed, let the god be celebrated
With customary honour, who separates the fields with his
sign.
Terminus, whether a stone or a stump buried in the earth,
You have been a god since ancient times.
You are crowned from either side by two landowners,
Who bring two garlands and two cakes in offering.
An altar’s made: here the farmer’s wife herself
Brings coals from the warm hearth on a broken pot.
The old man cuts wood and piles the logs with skill,
And works at setting branches in the solid earth.
Then he nurses the first flames with dry bark,
While a boy stands by and holds the wide basket.
When he’s thrown grain three times into the fire
The little daughter offers the sliced honeycombs.
Others carry wine: part of each is offered to the flames:
The crowd, dressed in white, watch silently.
Terminus, at the boundary, is sprinkled with lamb’s blood,
And doesn’t grumble when a sucking pig is granted him.
Neighbours gather sincerely, and hold a feast,
And sing your praises, sacred Terminus:
You set bounds to peoples, cities, great kingdoms:
Without you every field would be disputed.
You curry no favour: you aren’t bribed with gold,
Guarding the land entrusted to you in good faith.
If you’d once marked the bounds of Thyrean lands,
Three hundred men would not have died,
Nor Othryadesí name be seen on the pile of weapons.
O how he made his fatherland bleed!
What happened when the new Capitol was built?
The whole throng of gods yielded to Jupiter and made
room:
But as the ancients tell, Terminus remained in the shrine
Where he was found, and shares the temple with great
Jupiter.
Even now there’s a small hole in the temple roof,
So he can see nothing above him but stars.
Since then, Terminus, you’ve not been free to wander:
Stay there, in the place where you’ve been put,
And yield not an inch to your neighbour’s prayers,
Lest you seem to set men above Jupiter:
And whether they beat you with rakes, or ploughshares,
Call out: This is your field, and that is his!
There’s a track that takes people to the Laurentine fields,
The kingdom once sought by Aeneas, the Trojan leader:
The sixth milestone from the City, there, bears witness
To the sacrifice of a sheep’s entrails to you, Terminus.
The lands of other races have fixed boundaries:
The extent of the City of Rome and the world is one

Book II: February 23: The Terminalia

Translated by A. S. Kline copyright 2004

See the following posts for the Roman Year:

Romulus’s 10 month year here
Roman Months here
More on the Ides of March here
Leap Years and the Roman Year

Today, is Sexagesima Sunday. The second Sunday before Ash Wednesday.  It comes from the Latin for sixtieth and is very approximately 60 days before Easter.  It is the time when we should be reflecting on our sins and lifestyle before we enter Lent.

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Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Crocus and Saffron February 19th

Snowdrop, Crocus, Violet and Silver Birch circle in Haggerston Park. (Photo Kevin Flude, 2022)

Ovid’s Metamorphoses tells the  story of Crocus and Smilax This poem is one of the most famous in the world, written in about 6 AD. It influenced Dante, Bocaccio, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Keats, Bernard Shaw, and me.  It was translated anew by Seamus Hughes.

The mechanicals in ‘The Midsummers Night Dream’ perform Ovid’s story of Pyramus and Thisbe, Titian painted Diana and Actaeon. Shaw wrote about Pygmalion, and we all know the story of Arachne. Claiming to be better than Athene at weaving and then being turned into a spider.

The poem is about love, beauty, change, arrogance and is largely an Arcadian/rural poem. This is a contrast to Ovid’s ‘Art of Love’ which I use for illustrations of life in a Roman town. The stories are all about metamorphoses, mostly changes happening because of love. But it is also an epic as it tells the classical story of the universe from creation to Julius Caesar.

Ovid’s Metamorphoses and the Crocus

Ovid tells us ‘Crocus and his beloved Smilax were changed into tiny flowers.’ But he chooses to give us no more details. So we have to look elsewhere. There are various versions. In the first, Crocus is a handsome mortal youth, beloved of the God Hermes (Mercury). They are playing with a discus which hits Crocus on the head and kills him. Hermes, distraught, turns the youth into a beautiful flower. Three drops of his blood form the stigma of the flower.  In another, love hits Crocus and the nymph Smilax, and they are rewarded by immortality as a flower. One tale has Smilax turned into the Bindweed. 

Morning Glory or Field Bindweed photo Leslie Saunders unsplash

Ovid’s Metamorphoses and Bindweed

It turns out that Smilax means ‘bindweed’ in Latin. Bindweed is from the Convolvulus family, and I have grown one very successfully in a pot for many years. But they have long roots. According to the RHS ‘Bindweed‘ refers to two similar trumpet-flowered weeds. Both of which twine around other plant stems, smothering them in the process. They are difficult to remove.’ This, could suggest that Smilax is either punished for spurning Crocus, or that she smothered him with love. Medically, Mrs Grieve’s Modern Herbal says all the bindweeds have strong purgative virtues, perhaps another insight into her pyschology?

The Metamorphosis of Data and the correct use of the plural

Apparently, in the UK some say crocuses and others use the correct Latin plural, croci. On an earlier version of this post I used the incorrect plural crocii.

On the subject of Roman plurals, an earth-shattering decision was made by the Financial Times editorial department.  Last year they updated their style guide to make the plural word data (datum is the singular form) metamorphise into the singular form.

So it is now wrong to say ‘data are’ but right to say ‘data is’. For example, it was correct to say:  ‘the data are showing us that 63% of British speakers use crocuses as the plural’ but now, it is better to write ‘the data is showing us that 37% of British people prefer the correct Latin form of croci’.

Violets and crocuses are coming out. So far, in 2025 I have seen just one flowering in the local park. The crocus represents many things, but because they often come out for St Valentine’s Day, they are associated with Love. White croci usually represented truth, innocence, and purity. The purple variety imply success, pride and dignity. The yellow type is joy.’ according to www.icysedgwick.com/, which gives a fairly comprehensive look at the Crocus.

Photo Mohammad Amiri from unsplash. Notice the crimson stigma and styles, called threads, Crocus is one of the characters in Ovid’s Metamorphoses

Crocus & Saffron

The autumn-flowering perennial plant Crocus sativus, is the one whose stigma gives us saffron. This was spread across Europe by the Romans.  They used it for medicine, as a dye, and a perfume. It was much sought after as a protection against the plague. It was extensively grown in the UK.  Saffron Walden was a particularly important production area in the 16th and 17th Centuries.

Saffron in London

It was grown in the Bishop of Ely’s beautiful Gardens in the area remembered by the London street name: Saffron Hill.  It is home to the fictional Scrooge. This area became the London home of Christopher Hatton, the favourite of Queen Elizabeth 1. For more on Christopher Hatton see my post on nicknames Queen Elizabeth I gave to her favourites). His garden was on the west bank of the River Fleet, in London EC1, in the area now know as Hatton Garden.

I found out more about Saffron from listening to BBC Radio 4’s Gardener’s Question time and James Wong.

The place-name Croydon (on the outskirts of London), means Crocus Valley. a place where Saffron was grown. The Saffron crops in Britain failed eventually because of the cost of harvesting, and it became cheaper to import it. It is now grown in Spain, Iran and India amongst other places. But attempts over the last 5 years have been made to reintroduce it, This is happening in Norfolk, Suffolk, Kent and Sussex – the hot and dry counties. It likes a South facing aspect, and needs to be protected from squirrels and sparrows who love it.

Saffron Photo by Vera De on Unsplash
Viola odorata CC BY-SA 2.5 Wikipedia

Violets

Violets have been used as cosmetics by the Celts; to moderate anger by the Athenians, for insomnia by the Iranians and loved by all because of their beauty and fragrance. They have been symbols of death for the young, and used as garlands, nosegays posies which Gerard says are ‘delightful’.

For more on Ovid use the search facility (click on menu) or read my post here.

First written 2023, revised 2024 and 2025

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The Raven, the Palladium and the White Hill of London February 18th

Shows a photo of a missing Raven at the Tower of London
The Independent January 2021 The Raven the Palladium of Britain

The Raven – the Palladium of Britain

Corvus corax is hatching. An early nesting bird, the Raven is the biggest of the Corvids. They were pushed to the west and north by farmers and game keepers but are making a comeback. They are finding towns convenient for their scavenging habits. So they, again, cover most of the UK except the eastern areas.

Their habits, and their black plumage has made them harbingers of death. In poetry, Ravens glut on blood like the warriors whose emblem they are. Here is a very famous quotation from Y Gododdin, a medieval poem but thought to derive from a poem by the great poet Aneirin from the 7th Century.

‘He glutted black ravens on the rampart of the stronghold, though he was no Arthur.’

Aneirin

This is one of the much argued-about references to King Arthur in the ‘Was he a real person’ argument. The point being, it doesn’t make sense if there wasn’t an Arthur. The story at the Tower of London is that the Ravens kept in the Tower, with clipped wings, keep Britain safe from Invasion.

A Palladium is something that keeps a city or country safe, They are named after a wooden statue of Pallas Athene, which protected Troy. Perceiving this, Odysseus and Diomedes stole the Palladium from Troy shortly before the Trojan Horse episode. The palladium then went to Italy (I’m guessing with Diomedes who is said to have founded several cities in Italy), and ended up in Rome.

The Romans claimed to be descendants of Trojan exiles led by Aeneas. So it was back with its rightful owners. It protected Rome until it was transferred to the new Roman capital at Constantinople, and then disappeared, presumably allowing the Ottoman Turks to conquer the City of Caesar.

Bran’s Head – the original Palladium of Britain?

The Raven was also the symbol of the God-King Bran. Bran was one of the legendary Kings of Britain. His sister, Branwen, was married to the King of Ireland. To cut a long story short, Branwen was exiled by her Irish husband to the scullery. She trained a starling to smuggle a message to her brother, to tell of her abuse.

So Bran took an army over the Irish Sea to restore her to her rightful state. But the ships were becalmed. Mighty Bran blew the boats across the sea – he was that much a hero.

Bran was mortality wounded in the battle that followed. This was a problem because he had given away his cauldron of immortality.  He gave it to the Irish King in recompense for the insults given to the Irish by Bran’s brother, who hated anyone not British.

So, the dying Bran, told his companions to cut off his own head and take it back to the White Hill in London. His head was as good a companion on the way back as it was on the way out, and the journey home took 90 years.

At last, they got to London where he told his men to bury his head on the White Hill. As long as it stays here, he said, Britain would be safe from foreign invasion.

This was one of the Three Fortunate Concealments and is found in ‘the Triads of the Island of Britain.’

A raven landing with a brown background
By Sonny Mauricio from Unsplash

But many years later, King Arthur saw no need for anybody or anything other than himself to protect the realm. So he had the head dug up. Calamity followed in the shapes of Sir Lancelot and Mordred which led to the end of the golden age of Camelot and conquest of Britain by the Saxons.This was one of the Three Unfortunate Disclosures.

The White Hill is said to be Tower Hill with its summit at Trinity Gardens, although Primrose Hill is sometimes offered as an alternative. If we want a rational explanation for the story, there is evidence that Celtic cultures venerated the skull, and palladiums play a part in Celtic Tales.

So what was Arthur doing destroying the palladium that kept Britain safe? Vanity is the answer the story gives. But, perhaps, it’s a memory of Christian rites taking over from pagan rituals. God, Arthur might have thought, would prefer to protect his people himself rather than Christians having to rely on a pagan cult object.

The story of Bran’s head is inevitably linked to the Ravens in the Tower who, it is still said, keep us safe from invasion.  As you can see from the photo are the top we still get in a tiz when one goes missing.

Sadly, and I am probably sadder about this than most others, the link between the Tower, Bran and the Ravens cannot be substantiated. Geoffrey Parnell, who is a friend of mine, told me that while working at the Tower of London he searched the records assiduously for the story of the ravens.  He found no evidence of the Raven myth & the Tower before the 19th Century and concluded that it was most likely a Victorian invention. IanVisits has a 2025 story about the Ravens, and also concurs that the Ravens are a recent myth.

The Welsh Triads give a total of three palladiums for Britain.

Three Fortunate Concealments of the Island of Britain;

The Head of Bran the Blessed, son of Llyr, which was concealed in the White Hill in London, with its face towards France. And as long as it was in the position in which it was put there, no Saxon Oppression would ever come to this Island;
The second Fortunate Concealment: the Dragons in Dinas Emrys, which llud son of Beli concealed;
And the third: the Bones of Gwerthefyr the Blessed, in the Chief Ports of this Island. And as long as they remained in that concealment, no Saxon Oppression would ever come to this Island.

All good but then came the three unfortunate disclosures:

And there were the Three Unfortunate Disclosures when these were disclosed.
And Gwrtheyrn the Thin disclosed the bones of Gwerthefyr the Blessed for the love of a woman: that was Ronnwen the pagan woman;
And it was he who disclosed the Dragons;
And Arthur disclosed the head of Bran the Blessed from the White Hill, because it did not seem right to him that this Island should be defended by the strength of anyone, but by his own.

Gwrtheyrn is Vortigen, the leader of the Britons after the fall of the Roman Empire in Britain, one or two leaders before Arthur. Vortigern, which means something like strong leader in Welsh was a real person in so far as he, unlike Arthur, is mentioned by Gildas a near contemporary source.

The story of the dragons is supposedly from the pre-roman Iron Age.  Every May Day, they made a terrible noise, causing miscarriages and other misfortunes. So, King Ludd, whom legends says gave his name to London (Ludd’s Dun or Ludd’s walled City), drugged the dragons.  He had them buried in a cavern at Dinas Emrys in Eryri (Snowdonia). The Dragons represented the Britons and the Saxons.

Hundreds of years later, after the Romans have come and gone.  Vortigern is trying to build a castle in Eryri at Dinas Emrys.  But the walls keep falling down. You need the blood of a boy born not of man, his necromancers say.  They find a boy called Ambrosius aka Merlin whose mother has lain with an incubus.  Merlin accuses the necromancers of ignorance and explains the wall collapse is caused by two dragons.  They let the dragons go.  The walls now stand undisturbed. But the Welsh Red Dragon and the Saxon White Dragon can not be at peace, and the Britons are defeated by the Saxons.

Gwerthefyr is Vortimer, the son of Vortigern, who was better than his dad and was fighting to keep the Saxons out, but his father betrayed his own people for the lust of Rowena the daughter of Hengist, the Saxon.

After Vortimer’s death his bones were buried at the chief ports on the South Coast and they kept the country safe.  But they were moved to Billingsgate. This allowed the Saxons to land safely on the Kent coast and consolidate their increasing hold over Britain and turning it into England.

Written in February 21 revised in February 18th 23, 24, 25

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Ovid’s Vacant Day February 16th

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St Valentine’s Day & Magpies February 14th

Picture of a magpie in a field. Photo by Rossano D'Angelo on Unsplash
Magpie – A Bird for St Valentine’s Day? Photo by Rossano D’Angelo on Unsplash

St Valentine’s Day in a Poem by Chaucer

For this was on Seynt Valentynes day,
Whan every foul cometh ther to chese his make,
Of every kinde, that men thynke may;
And that so huge a noyse gan they make,
That erthe and see, and tree, and every lake
So ful was, that unnethe was ther space
For me to stonde, so ful was al the place.
Parliament of Fowls, Geoffrey Chaucer

This is my ‘translation’

For this was St. Valentine’s Day
When every bird came there to chose their mate.
Of every type, that men think may
And that so huge a noise did they make
That earth and sea and tree and every lake
So full was, that hardly was there space
For to stand so full was the place.

St Valentine’s Patronage

This is the first reference to St Valentine’s as a romantic day. And some people charge Chaucer with making the whole thing up! St Valentine, is supposed to have been martyred in the 3rd Century (290AD) on the Via Flaminia on February 14. He refused to stop marrying people in the Christian rites. He is therefore the patron Saint of lovers. He is also the patron Saint of epileptics, fainting and beekeepers. According to legend, Valentine taught a young blind girl how to look after Bees, and, sometime later, her eyesight was restored. He also is said to have treated a young man of epilepsy. Epilepsy was sometimes called the Falling Sickness, and so he is also the Saint of Fainting.

But until Chaucer, there was no particular link with romance. In fact, there are at least three Saint Valentines who were martyred in the Roman period. Their relics are scattered around Europe (have a look at this National Geographic article for the full S.P.). These include bones in Glasgow and his heart in Dublin. There are 11 Saints called Valentine in the list of Catholic Saints.

Another theory is that St Valentine has taken over the aspect of the God Cupid, as a Christian attempt to create a holy festival to replace the Lupercalia. See my post on the Lupercalia here.

St Valentine’s Day and Birds

Chaucer’s poem suggests one possible route to the link with romance. This is about the time when birds pair off. If they want to have their chicks at the optimal time, then they need to get going before spring has really sprung.

When I think of love, I don’t think of birds. Maybe, this is because I live by a Canal. Outside my garden, I frequently see and hear a Coot chasing his pair across the water before violently mounting her. But then they are fiercely monogamous and defend their nest, fearlessly, against much bigger birds. And swans glide by in beautiful family groups. But Magpies are my favourite lovebird because you see one, and then look around, and you very often see the partner. I have adopted an old tradition that you are supposed to say:

‘Hello, Mr Magpie! Where’s Mrs Magpie?’

And look for the mate. It is good luck if you see her and bad luck if you don’t. (Please feel free to assign your own favourite gender!)

‘One for Sorrow’ is a well-known nursery rhyme found in many variations, and is an example of ‘ornithomancy superstition’ whereby the number of Magpies you see determines some aspect of your future. As to the likelihood of seeing thirteen magpies together – they always appear to be in pairs to me, or singletons, and occasionally threes. Magpies normally mate for life, and are not gregarious during the nesting season, but thereafter, they ‘join together in large wintering flocks of more than 20 or so birds.‘. So, perhaps we need at least another seven lines for the rhyme? So, far I have never seen a flock of them. If you have a photo of a flock, please send it to me!

One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret,
Never to be told.
Eight for a wish,
Nine for a kiss,
Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,
Eleven for health,
Twelve for wealth,
Thirteen beware it’s the devil himself.

Here is another, more dangerous version (you are more likely to see the Devil)

One for sorrow,
Two for mirth
Three for a funeral,
Four for birth
Five for heaven
Six for hell
Seven for the devil, his own self

For details of the history of versions of this poem, click here:

Magpies don’t have a good reputation, traditionally being regarded as thieves and scavengers with untidy nests and eating habits. They are supposed to be attracted to shiny things, but Exeter University did some research which found that they have the normal Corvid’s curiosity for objects. But they are as happy to snatch a dull object as a shiny one. So, we can see they are very intelligent as well as faithful lovers. For me, a good-omened bird (as long as I see the two of them).

For more on Chaucer look at my post for April 18th.

On This Day

1895 The Importance of Being Earnest first produced at the St James’s Theatre, London

First Published in February 2023, revised and updated in February 2024, 2025

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The Martyrdom of Charles I & ‘Get Back’ January 30th

Banqueting Hall and Execution of Charles I
Banqueting Hall and the Martyrdom of Charles I

January 30th is the anniversary execution of King Charles I. Today, he was beheaded as a murderer and traitor. Or as a Royalist would see it, it is the anniversary of the Martyrdom of Charles I.

Thousands came to see the execution, amongst them Samuel Pepys. They crowded around the scaffold outside a window of Inigo Jones’s magnificent Banqueting Hall, in Whitehall, London. Charles was brought to the Banqueting House and must have looked up at the magnificent Peter Paul Reubens’ ceiling. Charles had ordered it the depiction of the Apotheosis of his father, James I. It was the symbol of the Divine Right of the King to rule. I

I doubt he saw the irony. It is more likely he thought on going to heaven in glory as a Martyr to his religion. He walked outside, through the window, into the cold January air. Two of his bloodstained shirts still exist probably to stop him shivering. He would want to to be seen as going fearless to his death not shivering with fear. Then, he made a short speech exonerating himself. He spoke without stammering for the first time in his public life. All the Rooftops around were lined with spectators. Black cloth framed the scaffold. As the executioner axe fell, there was a dull grown from the crowd (most could not see the axe falling).

This was on January 30th, 1648. But, if you look at a history book, it will tell you it was in 1649. This was before our conversation to the Gregorian calendar. Then the year number changed not as we do on January 1st but on March 25th. This was the day the Archangel Gabriel revealed to the Virgin Mary that she was pregnant. For more on the importance of March 25th look at my Almanac entry here:

The Beginning of the Universe as We Know It; Birthdays of Adam, Lilith, & Eve; Conception of Jesus, Start of the Year March 25th

Revenge for the Martyrdom of Charles I

On the same day, twelve years later, in 1660 Oliver Cromwell and his chief henchmen were dug up from their splendid Westminster Abbey tombs. Their bodies were abused by official command. Cromwell’s head was stuck on the top of Westminster Hall. There it remained until it was blown off in the Great Fire of 1703 (or 1672, or 1684). It was picked up and taken to Cambridge, Sidney Sussex College, which Cromwell attended. It was buried somewhere which is said to be known only to the Head Porter. (According to someone who came on my Oliver Cromwell Walk at the weekend.) Whether it is his head or not is disputed. The ins and outs of that tale are told in detail here.

The Royalist, John Evelyn, said in his diary:

This day (oh the stupendous, and inscrutable Judgements of God) were the Carkasses of that arch-rebel Cromwel1, Bradshaw, the Judge who condemned his Majestie and Ireton, sonn in law to the usurper, dragged out of their superb Tombs (in Westminster among the Kings) to Tybourne, and hanged on the Gallows there from 9 in the morning till 6 at night, and then buried under that fatal and ignominious Monument in a deep pit. Thousands of people (who had seen them in all their pride and pompous insults) being spectators .

Samuel Pepys records by contrast:

…do trouble me that a man of so great courage as he was should have that dishonour, though otherwise he might deserve it enough…

Pepys served the Parliamentary side before the restoration of Charles II, when he adroitly, swapped over to the Royalist side.

Today, I am doing a Guided Walk and a Virtual Tour on Charles I and the Civil War. Look here for details.

On This Day

1969 Get Back to Where you Once Belonged – This is also the anniversary of the rooftop concert in Saville Row where the Beatles played ‘Get Back’.

YouTube Clip with scenes from the Roof Top Concert

First published in 2023, revised on January 29th 2024, and 2025

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Gilbert White & The Cold of January 1776 January 28th

Photo of London Fields in the snow of 2022
Photo of London Fields in the snow of 2022 by Kevin Flude

January 1776:

‘On the 27th much snow fell all day, and in the evening the frost became very intense. At South Lambeth, for the four following nights, the thermometer fell to 7, 6, 6, and at Selborne to 7, 6, 10, and on the 3ist of January , just before sunrise, with rime on the trees and on the tube of the glass, the quicksilver sunk exactly to zero, being 32 degrees below the freezing point’ Gilbert White

Engraving of Gilbert White's House

Gilbert White and Darwin

He, of course, is talking Fahrenheit, so well below zero. If there was a Giant upon whose shoulders Charles Darwin climbed, then it was Gilbert White’s. He was one of many churchmen of the 18th and 19th Century who spent their extensive leisure time, on observing God’s wonderful creation in their gardens and parishes. What made White so important was that his practice was ‘observing narrowly’ and regularly. For example, his observations of the importance of earth worms were fundamental to Charles Darwin’s own studies. When Darwin came back from his travels on the Beagle, he settled in a country property in Orpington. Like White, he used his garden and the local area as his laboratory. Here he worked to prove his theory of evolution.

Gilbert White and Earth worms

Earth worms were one of Darwin’s passions. This is what Gilbert White wrote about their contribution to nature:

“Earth-worms, though in appearance a small and despicable link in the chain of Nature, yet, if lost, would make a lamentable chasm. For, to say nothing of half the birds, and some quadrupeds which are almost entirely supported by them, worms seem to be the great promoters of vegetation, by boring, perforating, and loosening the soil, and rendering it pervious to rains and the fibres of plants, and, most of all, by throwing up such infinite numbers of lumps of earth called worm-casts, which, being their excrement, is a fine manure for grain and grass.”

(Quoted from https://gilbertwhiteshouse.org.uk)

By such minute and repeated observations, Gilbert White investigated the food chain, and the migration of birds (which was at the time disputed). He laid the foundations of what we now call ecology.

He became Dean of Oriel College in Oxford. But chose to spend his career in the relatively humble occupation of Curate. A Curate is the bottom-feeder in the Anglican Church food chain. A Curate hardly earned enough to maintain a position in the Gentry (£50 p.a.). Although, White was upgraded to the title of Perpetual Curate. He still would only be pulling in, I guess, something like £200 p.a. Patrick Bronte was also a Perpetual Curate, it really means a Vicar but without a Parish.

Financially, White didn’t need much, he inherited his father’s property at Shelborne, Hampshire. White’s grandfather was the Vicar at Shelborne. But Gilbert could not inherit the title because he went to Oriel College. The ‘living’ of the Parish of Shelborne was ‘in the gift of’ Magdalen College. And they were not going to give the role to an alumnus of a rival college.

Gilbert White & The Austen Family

The house, now open to the public, is just around the corner from Chawton. This is where Jane Austen spent her last years. He was born in 1720; was 55 when Austen was born, and he died in 1793, when she was 18. He lived 4 miles away, so the families knew of each other. We know Jane Austen’s brother wrote a poem about Gilbert White and his natural history observations, particularly on birds.

From ‘Selbourne Hanger’ by James Austen

Who talks of rational delight }
When Selbourne’s Hill appears in sight }
And does not think of Gilbert White? }
Such sure he was – by Nature grac’d
With her best gift of genuine taste;
And Providence – which cast his lot
Within this calm, secluded spot,
Plac’d him where best th’enquiring mind
Might study Nature’s works, and find
Within her ever open book
Beauties which others overlook.
Enthusiast sweet! Your vivid style
The attentive reader can beguile
Through many a page, and still excite
An Interest in what you write!
For whilst observant you describe
The habits of the feathery tribe
Their Loves and Wars – their nest and Song,
We never think the tale too long.

For more information on White and Austen, go to Gilbert White’s House’s web page here:

More Snow!

Here is more of that epic cold January 1776

‘On the 27th much snow fell all day, and in the evening the frost became very intense. At South Lambeth, for the four following nights, the thermometer fell to n, 7, 6, 6, and at Selborne to 7, 6, 10, and on the 3ist of January ‘, just before sunrise, with rime on the trees and on the tube of the glass, the quicksilver sunk exactly to zero, being 32 degrees below the freezing point ; but by eleven in the morning, though in the shade, it sprang up to I6J,1 — a most unusual degree of cold this for the south of England \ During these four nights the cold was so penetrating that it occasioned ice in warm chambers and under beds ; and in the day the wind was so keen that persons of robust constitutions could scarcely endure to face it. The Thames was at once so frozen over both above and below bridge that crowds ran about on the ice. The streets were now strangely encumbered with snow, which crumbled and trod dusty ; and, turning grey, resembled bay-salt : what had fallen on the roofs was so perfectly dry that, from first to last, it lay twenty-six days on the houses in the city ; a longer time than had been remembered by the oldest housekeepers living…..’

‘The consequences of this severity were, that in Hampshire, at the melting of the snow, the wheat looked well, and the turnips came forth little injured. The laurels and laurustines were somewhat damaged, but only in hot aspects. No evergreens were quite destroyed ; and not half the damage sustained that befell in January, 1768. Those laurels that were a little scorched on the south-sides were perfectly untouched on their north-sides. The care taken to shake the snow day by day from the branches seemed greatly to avail the author’s evergreens. A neighbour’s laurel-hedge, in a high situation, and facing to the north, was perfectly green and vigorous ; and the Portugal laurels remained unhurt.’

‘We had steady frost on to the 25th, when the thermometer in the morning was down to 10 with us, and at Newton only to 21. Strong frost continued till the 3ist, when some tendency to thaw was observed ; and, by January the 3d, 1785, the thaw was confirmed, and some rain fell.’

Rosemary flowering in december
Rosemary flowering in my garden, photo by Kevin Flude

Gilbert White’s House is open to the public and also contains a display on Lawrence Oates, who died on Scots Antarctic expedition. For more information look at my post.

There is another mention of Gilbert White in the Almanac of the Past here.

Foods in Season

Here, as a bonus, are food stuffs that are in season now.

Wild Greens: Chickweed, hairy bittercress, dandelion leaves, sow thistle, winter cress

Vegetables: Forced Rhubarb, purple sprouting broccoli, carrots, brussels sprouts, turnips, beetroot, spinach, kale, chard, leeks, Jerusalem artichokes, lettuces, chicory, cauliflowers, cabbages, celeriac, swedes

Herbs: Winter savory, parsley, chervil, coriander, rosemary, bay, sage

Cheeses: Stilton, Lanark Blue

(from the Almanac by Lia Leendertz)

The last section posted originally in 2023, the part on Gilbert White written on 28th January 2024, revised 2025

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News of Virtual Tours

Sorry to send an additional post but coming up are a couple of fascinating Virtual Tours which I would like to remind you of!

Tonight is an exploration of early 19th Century London. It is based on the 1809 Picture of London Guide book. An original copy was given to me by someone grateful to have attended one of my lectures at the Old Operating Theatre Museum. It is a tour of what Jane Austen could have visited on her walks around London. There are Austen associations, but mainly we are looking at London in 1809.

Jane Austen’s ‘A Picture of London in 1809’ Virtual Walk Mon 7.30 27th Jan25 To book

Yesterday, I was asked to give a Cromwell’s London walk as a 75th Birthday present. I haven’t done one for at least 25 years. But I really enjoyed the research. So added a guided walk and a virtual tour to my programme. This is the first time I have done this VT and it is a cracking story.


The Civil War, Restoration and the Great Fire of London Virtual Tour 7:30pm Thurs 30th Jan25To book

Finally, April is the month we go on pilgrimages, as Chaucer said (in Old English). So, in addition to my Chaucer Walks, I have added a Virtual tour so we can go all the way to Canterbury.


Chaucer’s London To Canterbury Virtual Pilgrimage 7.30pm Friday 18th April 25 To book

I may add one or two more before the Sun comes back

To see all my walks see this page.

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Burn’s Night January 25th

Edinburgh Writer’s Museum ‘Burn’s Monument from Campbell’s Close Canongate’ by John Bell. The Burn’s Monument is is on the hill in the background.

Burn’s Night is an increasingly important date on the calendar of Scotland’s Cultural Heritage. Wikipedia says it began:

‘at Burn’s Cottage in Ayrshire by Burns’s friends, on 21 July 1801‘

This was 5 years after his death. It is now celebrated around the world, making clear the importance of Robert Burns.

Burns himself would have been astonished at the spread of Burn’s Night. He was modest about his attainments, saying, in his introduction to the Commonplace Book:

‘As he was but little indebted to scholastic education, and bred at a plough-tail, his performance must be strongly tinctured with his unpolished rustic way of life. ‘

To celebrate Burn’s Night here is one of his most famous works. Also have a look at my post on his great narrative poem, Tam O’Shanter and the Cutty Shark.

Address to a Haggis

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang ‘s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o’ need,
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight,
An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

(for the other five verses have a wee lookie here)

The Writer’s Museum

Often bypassed by the tourists on a visit to the wonderful City of Edinburgh is the Writer’s Museum. It is in one of those remarkable Tower houses which seem unique to the High Street in Edinburgh. Inside, it gives a great introduction to the great writers of Scotland.

‘Is it not strange’ wrote philosopher David Hume in 1757 ‘that a time when we have lost our Princes, our Parliament, Independent Government …..that we shou’d really be the people most distinguish’d for literature in Europe?’ (source: Museum display panel)

Edinburgh Writer’s Museum Burns, Scott, Stevenson.
A Visual for Burn’s Night ‘Window in the Writer’s Museum, Edinburgh’ Photo by K Flude
Writer’s Museum photo K. Flude

First published Jan 2023, republished Jan 2024, 2025

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The Eve of St Agnes & Keats January 20th

Porphyro looking at the sleeping Madeline by Edward Henry Wehnert (1813-68) Scanned image and text by Simon Cooke https://victorianweb.org/art/illustration/wehnert/8.htm
Scene from the Eve of St Agnes & Keats poem. Porphyro looking at the sleeping Madeline by Edward Henry Wehnert (1813-68)
Scanned image and text by Simon Cooke https://victorianweb.org/art/illustration/wehnert/8.html

January 20th is the Eve of St Agnes & Keats wrote a poem on the subject. The poem is one of his most important and was written in 1819 and published in 1820. Folklore held that a maid would dream of her future lover on St Agnes Eve if she took certain precautions. In particular, they had to go to bed without supper, and transfers pins from a pincusion to their sleeve while reciting the Lord’s Prayer. John Keats used this tradition in his epic poem.

St Agnes was a martyr who, at 13 years old, refused to marry a pagan. She was martyred by being stabbed in the throat. Agnes is well attested and on a list of martyrs dating to AD345. She is the patroness of young women and of chastity. Her feast day is January 21st. I wrote about St Agnes and the Fraternity of St Anne and St Agnes on Distaff Sunday.

The Eve of St Agnes & Keats

The poem begins with a great description of winter.

The Eve of St. Agnes

By John Keats

St. Agnes’ Eve—Ah, bitter chill it was!
       The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
       The hare limp’d trembling through the frozen grass,
       And silent was the flock in woolly fold:
       Numb were the Beadsman’s fingers, while he told
       His rosary, and while his frosted breath,
       Like pious incense from a censer old,
       Seem’d taking flight for heaven, without a death,
Past the sweet Virgin’s picture, while his prayer he saith.

Keats sets up the drama with a poetic description of the folklore:

They told her how, upon St. Agnes’ Eve,
       Young virgins might have visions of delight,
       And soft adorings from their loves receive
       Upon the honey’d middle of the night,
       If ceremonies due they did aright;
       As, supperless to bed they must retire,
       And couch supine their beauties, lily white;
       Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require
Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org

In the poem, the maid Madelaine goes to sleep to dream of her love Porphyro. He risks everything to visit the young girl, and watches her while she sleeps. She dreams of him. Waking up and seeing him, Madelaine lets him into her bed thinking she is still dreaming.

She realises her mistake and tells him she cannot blame him for taking advantage as she loves him so much. But if he leaves her, she will be like “A dove forlorn and lost / With sick unpruned wing”.

The two lovers escape and run away together.

Keats

Keats was born in a livery inn in Moorgate. He lived in Cheapside, later in Hampstead, and was published in Welbeck Street in the West End. He trained as a surgeon at Guys Hospital, Southwark. But he never practised, although he did consider a post as a Ship’s Surgeon.

One wet, cold February he went home to Hampstead on the roof of a stage coach.  But. he had forgotten his coat, so he got soaked and chilled to the bone.  That night, he coughed up blood. His medical and family experience led him to believe it was a fatal sign of consumption. He had lived in a small house with his brother and mother, who both died of TB. Keats had helped nurse them. 

Later on, however, he consulted a doctor. He was told his illness was psychosomatic. And his thwarted love for his next door neighbour, Fanny Brawne, was contributing to his illness.

He was advised to go to a warmer climate.  So, he embarked at Tower Pier by the Tower of London. He transferred to a small sailing ship at Gravesend called the Maria Crowther. On the ship to Italy, he shared a cabin with another consumptive.  The two consumptives, had opposite ideas as to whether the portholes needed to be open or closed for their health. Letters he wrote makes it clear he was desperate to stop himself thinking about Fanny Brawne. He got to Rome where he died, achieving, he felt, nothing worthwhile in his life.  His memorial stone proclaimed:

“Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water.”

On This Day

Today is also St Sebastian’s Feast Day. He has become a gay icon, and was celebrated in a latin language film by Derek Jarman from 1976. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sebastiane)

StSebastian by Marco Zoppo, Courtauld Gallery photo K Flude

First written in January 23, republished on January 20th 2024, 2025