The Greeat Freeze. ‘Skating on the Serpentine’ by Lucien Davis Antique wood-engraved print. Illustrated London News double page from 2 March 1895 (print owned by K Flude)
The Great Freeze
London, February 12, (1895). There is no abatement of the abnormally cold weather which has prevailed in northern Europe for the last week. The Upper Thames is frozen over, and huge blocks of ice breaking away from the mass are floating down the river, causing much damage to the smaller shipping craft. Water traffic is consequently at a complete standstill.
Many cases of death from cold and exposure are reported, the privation and distress in the East End of the city being particularly severe. The cold is so intense that birds are found frozen to death on the branches of the trees, and thousands are perishing. The severe weather has also directly caused considerable mortality, a number of deaths from exposure having been reported among postmen, omnibus drivers, cabmen, and labourers.
Winter of 1895 Limehouse to left, Tower of London to right. Images from Isle of Dogs blog.
The year 1895 was the culmination of a decade of particularly cold winters (and for some the end of the so-called Little Ice Age). On the 11th February, the coldest day in British History was recorded at Braemar at −27.2 °C. February 1895 was the second coldest on record, with the lowest minimum temperatures on record. Shipping in the biggest port in the world was stopped. Therefore, many workers were laid off, and had to resort to what were then called ‘soup kitchens’ and now ‘food banks’. Winter death rates were said to be doubled, with people dying in the street and in unheated homes.
Record minima were set for these dates in February 1895:
7th: −21.7 °C or −7.1 °F
8th: −25.0 °C or −13.0 °F
9th: −23.9 °C or −11.0 °F
10th: −25.6 °C or −14.1 °F
11th: −27.2 °C or −17.0 °F
12th: −20.6 °C or −5.1 °F
13th: −21.9 °C or −7.4 °F
14th: −21.7 °C or −7.1 °F
16th: −23.9 °C or −11.0 °F
17th: −23.9 °C or −11.0 °F
18th: −23.9 °C or −11.0 °F
19th: −22.2 °C or −8.0 °F
Source Wikipedia.
On the flip side people resorted to ponds around London particularly the Serpentine which had 6 inches of ice and 50,000 skaters, with speed skating competitions.
1554 – Lady Jane Grey was executed after a trial at the Guildhall. Her husband was executed on the same day. Her adoption as heir to the throne was ordered by her cousin Edward VI. His minister, John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, (and Jane’s Father-in-Law) arranged for the Privy Council to accept Jane as the next monarch. They were trying to prevent Henry VIII’s Catholic daughter, Mary taking the throne. Jane was Queen for 9 Days. The Privy Council swapped sides as support for Jane collapsed. Jane was the Great-granddaughter of Henry VII and cousins to Mary, Elizabeth and Edward VI.
1993 – The South African Government agrees with the African National Congress to form an elected interim government comprised of both black and white members.
Published February 12th 2024, and republished 2025, 2026
A plate of Polish pączki for tłusty czwartek (Fat Thursday)
Fat Thursday
Today is El Jueves Lardero in Spain, Giovedì grasso in Italy, Weiberfastnach in the Rhineland, Tłusty Czwartek (Fat Thursday) in Poland and Tsiknopempti in Greece.
Please read out that sentence loud, attempting the accents because it’s very therapeutic!
Fat Thursday is the last Thursday before Lent. It is the first day of the Carnival season which reaches a climax on Mardi Gras, or Shrove Tuesday. This is the day before Ash Wednesday, when the 40 days of fasting before Easter begins.
In Poland, the tradition is to eat pączki which we call doughnuts and the Germans call Berliners. I remember when President Kennedy made a famous speech in Berlin and said ‘Ich bin ein Berliner’. He was cheered to the echo but was actually saying ‘I am a doughnut! Doughnuts traditionally should be made with red jam. But now people can use cream, or almost any sort of sugary nonsense.
Zofia’s Doughnuts (pączki) all cooked on Feb 12th 2026. Fat Friday Tłusty Czwartek. Zofia makes them for a whole host of relatives and neighbours.
Spain is more savoury on Greasy Thursday, where tortilla are eaten. They also eat sausages, bacon, and pork. In Catalonia, they eat tortilla with butifarra.(which are sausages in the Roman tradition). Here is a recipe for butifarra.
In Italy giovedì grasso (Fat Thursday) is when:
“the fooling and the mumming, the dancing, shrieking, and screaming would be at its height.”
There are indications that the week before Shrove Tuesday, in the Anglo Saxon period, was one of merriment and feasting. Eating the things that were not allowed in Lent. So in Old English this week is Cheese Week or Butter Week, and there was a Cheesefare Sunday. (‘Winters in the World’ by Eleanor Parker).
But I cannot find any references to traditions of a fat Thursday or a Lardy Thursday in the UK. But we do have the fabulous Lardy Cake. It is a cake that drips with sugar and lard (pig fat). It is one of my very favourite cakes. The main ingredients are rendered lard, flour, sugar, spices, currants and raisins. I was brought up on Lardy Cake, Chelsea Buns, Spotted Dick, and Sticky Willies (iced buns). Every day was Fat Thursday! I am surprised I wasn’t an overweight child!
It is by no means a countrywide cake. My own theory is that it was a delicacy of the West Saxons. And I fondly imagine King Alfred tending to the Lardy Cake when musing about defeating the Vikings. I have bought lardy cake in Woking and Guildford in Surrey. There is a great Lardy Cake to be eaten in the centre of Winchester (Alfred’s Capital). Along the Thames Valley in Reading, but best were sold in Cornmarket in Oxford, in, the since closed, Woolworths. These are all in areas controlled by Wessex in the 9th Century.
Worcester Dripping Cake
When lecturing at Worcester I found a variant of it which is called Worcester Dripping Cake. Worcester is in the Kingdom of Mercia. Dripping is melted fat, often from Beef. Many Londoners were brought up on Bread and Dripping.
Wikipedia says Lardy Cake is from: ‘southern counties of England, including Sussex, Surrey, Hampshire, Berkshire, Wiltshire, Dorset and Gloucestershire.’ But I have never found it myself around Stonehenge, or in Dorchester, nor in the Cotswolds. So I would say Sussex, Surrey, Hampshire, Berkshire and Oxfordshire are the lardy cake heartlands. It is said to have been originally for special occasions, so maybe there once was a Lardy Thursday tradition. It feels like there should be one!
And here, courtesy of the BBC and the handsome (but possibly, dare I say it, a little ‘lardy’) Paul Hollywood of Bake-off fame, is a recipe for Lardy Cake. Please make it and feel that wonderful English Pudding feeling of a lead weight in your stomach.
The recipe says ‘This recipe has a generous amount of dried fruit in a rich dough that’s lighter and less sweet than most shop-bought lardy cakes‘. So, it’s not going to be entirely authentic!
I did try making Lardy cake and I put it in that category of food which is best left for the professionals to do, along with Croissants and Chelsea Buns.
Following posting this page on Facebook, Heike Herbert posted this response concerning ‘Women’s Fast Night on February 8th in Cologne or Koln:
Aristotelis Psitos emailed me to say that the Greek Orthodox ‘Fat Thursday’ is on a different date.
Making Lardy Cake
After last year’s post I decided to try to bake Lardy Cake .
lardy cake being madeLady Cake overcooked!Slice of Lardy Cake
Ok, so my first error was pretty fundamental.I forget to put the sugar in! Secondly, I was distracted so did not put the timer on. It was therefore a little overcooked, but not disastrously. I also used Wholemeal flour rather than Strong White flour, which Paul Hollywood suggested. I sprinkled caster sugar on it. I’ve had about 4 slices, last night and this morning. I have now washed the utensils 4 times, and they are still covered in lard! But at least it’s less fat ingested. Verdict: Quite Good. To be honest, it is more like a fruit bread than a lardy cake. And next time, I’ll buy it rather than make it.
First Published 2024, revised 2025, Making Lardy Cake moved from February 27th 2026
Daffodils & Narcissus. In 2023, I saw my first Daffodil in Hackney in a Council Estate on 12 January. My first daffodil in 2024 was outside my first floor window in early February. On February 11th, 2025, I saw the shoots of Daffodils in my garden but nothing blooming. However, there were daffodils on another Council Estate. In 2026, my first daffodil came out in early January. And the Estates and Parks around have been showing daffodils since late January. They bring such joy and hope for the return of the Sun.
12 Jan 2023. Hackney, London, the first Daffodil.
Narcissus the Flower
Their formal name is Narcissus. The Roman natural historian, Pliny tells us that the plant was:
‘named Narcissus from narkē not from the fabulous boy.’
Narkē is the Greek word from which we derive the word narcotic. It is a reference to the narcotic properties of the narcissus. An extract of the bulb applied to open wounds produced numbness of the whole nervous system and paralysis of the heart. The flowers are also slightly poisonous. So, they were used as an emetic. They brought on vomiting when it was felt necessary that the stomach be emptied. It was used to treat hysteria and epilepsy. They treated children with bronchial catarrh or epidemic dysentery. Among Arabian doctors, it was used to cure baldness and as an aphrodisiac. (Source: A Modern Herbal by Mrs M Grieve.) Please remember these are not recommendations for use medicinally, but are historic uses and may be dangerous.
The Fabulous Boy
The fabulous boy, mentioned by Pliny, was Narcissus. He, according to the Roman Poet Ovid, met the nymph Echo, and she fell in love with the beautiful boy. He spurned her, and she faded until all that remained of her was her voice – the echo we hear.
Nemesis, the Goddess of Revenge (the one with the fiery sword) decided on revenge upon the handsome boy. She lured the thirsty youth to a fountain, where, in the pool around the fountain, he saw an image of a breathtakingly handsome boy. He fell instantly in love with such beauty. But it was an image of himself. Realising he would never meet anyone as fabulous as himself, he faded from life. He eventually metamorphised into a white and yellow flower, which was named after him.
Nemesis, with her fiery sword, from the painting on the Staircase at Hampton Court by Antonio Verrio, Photo K Flude
Daffodils & Shakespeare
Daffodils are mentioned in a list of Spring Flowers by Shakespeare in the pastoral play The Winter’s Tale:
(Please note that as you read Shakespeare’s words below that Prosperpina is the wife of Pluto, the God of the Underworld, Dis, is another name for him, Cytherea is the Goddess of Beauty and Love. Phoebus is the Sun God. And the Spring Flowers are Daffodils, violets, primroses, oxlips (primula), Crown Imperial (Fritillaria imperialis), Lilies, flower-De-luce (Iris)
Perdita to Camillo
Out, alas! You’d be so lean that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. (To Florizel) I would I had some flowers o’th’ spring, that might Become your time of day – (to the Shepherdesses) That wear upon your virgin branches yet Your maidenheads growing. O Proserpina, For the flowers now that, frighted, thou let’st fall From Dis’s waggon! Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes Or Cytherea’s breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength – a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one: O, these I lack To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend To strew him o’er and o’er!
WT IV.iv.110.2
The reference to Daffodils suggests that for Shakespeare they are around to withstand the March Winds before the Swallows arrive in April. With selective breeding, early flowering species have been developed. Now February and even January are within the scope of the glorious bulb. (here is a post on winter flowering varieties). For my post on Shakespeare & Winter see here.
Once a noisy Nymph, (who never held her tongue when others spoke, who never spoke till others had begun) mocking Echo, spied him as he drove, in his delusive nets, some timid stags.—For Echo was a Nymph, in olden time,—and, more than vapid sound,—possessed a form: and she was then deprived the use of speech, except to babble and repeat the words, once spoken, over and over. Juno confused her silly tongue, because she often held that glorious goddess with her endless tales, till many a hapless Nymph, from Jove’s embrace, had made escape adown a mountain.
But for this, the goddess might have caught them. Thus the glorious Juno, when she knew her guile; “Your tongue, so freely wagged at my expense, shall be of little use; your endless voice, much shorter than your tongue.” At once the Nymph was stricken as the goddess had decreed;—and, ever since, she only mocks the sounds of others’ voices, or, perchance, returns their final words.
One day, when she observed Narcissus wandering in the pathless woods, she loved him and she followed him, with soft and stealthy tread.—The more she followed him the hotter did she burn, as when the flame flares upward from the sulphur on the torch. Oh, how she longed to make her passion known! To plead in soft entreaty! to implore his love! But now, till others have begun, a mute of Nature she must be. She cannot choose but wait the moment when his voice may give to her an answer. Presently the youth, by chance divided from his trusted friends, cries loudly, “Who is here?” and Echo, “Here!” Replies. Amazed, he casts his eyes around, and calls with louder voice, “Come here!” “Come here!” She calls the youth who calls.—He turns to see who calls him and, beholding naught exclaims, “Avoid me not!” “Avoid me not!” returns. He tries again, again, and is deceived by this alternate voice, and calls aloud; “Oh let us come together!” Echo cries, “Oh let us come together!” Never sound seemed sweeter to the Nymph, and from the woods she hastens in accordance with her words, and strives to wind her arms around his neck.
He flies from her and as he leaves her says, “Take off your hands! you shall not fold your arms around me. Better death than such a one should ever caress me!” Naught she answers save, “Caress me!” Thus rejected she lies hid in the deep woods, hiding her blushing face with the green leaves; and ever after lives concealed in lonely caverns in the hills. But her great love increases with neglect; her miserable body wastes away, wakeful with sorrows; leanness shrivels up her skin, and all her lovely features melt, as if dissolved upon the wafting winds—nothing remains except her bones and voice—her voice continues, in the wilderness; her bones have turned to stone. She lies concealed in the wild woods, nor is she ever seen on lonely mountain range; for, though we hear her calling in the hills, ’tis but a voice, a voice that lives, that lives among the hills.
Thus he deceived the Nymph and many more, sprung from the mountains or the sparkling waves; and thus he slighted many an amorous youth.—and therefore, some one whom he once despised, lifting his hands to Heaven, implored the Gods, “If he should love deny him what he loves!” and as the prayer was uttered it was heard by Nemesis, who granted her assent.
There was a fountain silver-clear and bright, which neither shepherds nor the wild she-goats, that range the hills, nor any cattle’s mouth had touched—its waters were unsullied—birds disturbed it not; nor animals, nor boughs that fall so often from the trees. Around sweet grasses nourished by the stream grew; trees that shaded from the sun let balmy airs temper its waters. Here Narcissus, tired of hunting and the heated noon, lay down, attracted by the peaceful solitudes and by the glassy spring.
There as he stooped to quench his thirst another thirst increased. While he is drinking he beholds himself reflected in the mirrored pool—and loves; loves an imagined body which contains no substance, for he deems the mirrored shade a thing of life to love. He cannot move, for so he marvels at himself, and lies with countenance unchanged, as if indeed a statue carved of Parian marble. Long, supine upon the bank, his gaze is fixed on his own eyes, twin stars; his fingers shaped as Bacchus might desire, his flowing hair as glorious as Apollo’s, and his cheeks youthful and smooth; his ivory neck, his mouth dreaming in sweetness, his complexion fair and blushing as the rose in snow-drift white. All that is lovely in himself he loves, and in his witless way he wants himself:—he who approves is equally approved; he seeks, is sought, he burns and he is burnt.
And how he kisses the deceitful fount; and how he thrusts his arms to catch the neck that’s pictured in the middle of the stream! Yet never may he wreathe his arms around that image of himself. He knows not what he there beholds, but what he sees inflames his longing, and the error that deceives allures his eyes. But why, O foolish boy, so vainly catching at this flitting form? The cheat that you are seeking has no place. Avert your gaze and you will lose your love, for this that holds your eyes is nothing save the image of yourself reflected back to you. It comes and waits with you; it has no life; it will depart if you will only go.
Nor food nor rest can draw him thence—outstretched upon the overshadowed green, his eyes fixed on the mirrored image never may know their longings satisfied, and by their sight he is himself undone. Raising himself a moment, he extends his arms around, and, beckoning to the murmuring forest; “Oh, ye aisled wood was ever man in love more fatally than I? Your silent paths have sheltered many a one whose love was told, and ye have heard their voices. Ages vast have rolled away since your forgotten birth, but who is he through all those weary years that ever pined away as I?
Alas, this fatal image wins my love, as I behold it. But I cannot press my arms around the form I see, the form that gives me joy. What strange mistake has intervened betwixt us and our love? It grieves me more that neither lands nor seas nor mountains, no, nor walls with closed gates deny our loves, but only a little water keeps us far asunder. Surely he desires my love and my embraces, for as oft I strive to kiss him, bending to the limpid stream my lips, so often does he hold his face fondly to me, and vainly struggles up. It seems that I could touch him. ‘Tis a strange delusion that is keeping us apart. Whoever thou art, Come up! Deceive me not! Oh, whither when I fain pursue art thou? Ah, surely I am young and fair, the Nymphs have loved me; and when I behold thy smiles I cannot tell thee what sweet hopes arise. When I extend my loving arms to thee thine also are extended me—thy smiles return my own.
When I was weeping, I have seen thy tears, and every sign I make thou cost return; and often thy sweet lips have seemed to move, that, peradventure words, which I have never heard, thou hast returned. No more my shade deceives me, I perceive ‘Tis I in thee—I love myself—the flame arises in my breast and burns my heart—what shall I do? Shall I at once implore? Or should I linger till my love is sought? What is it I implore? The thing that I desire is mine—abundance makes me poor. Oh, I am tortured by a strange desire unknown to me before, for I would fain put off this mortal form; which only means I wish the object of my love away. Grief saps my strength, the sands of life are run, and in my early youth am I cut off; but death is not my bane—it ends my woe.—I would not death for this that is my love, as two united in a single soul would die as one.”
He spoke; and crazed with love, returned to view the same face in the pool; and as he grieved his tears disturbed the stream, and ripples on the surface, glassy clear, defaced his mirrored form. And thus the youth, when he beheld that lovely shadow go; “Ah whither cost thou fly? Oh, I entreat thee leave me not. Alas, thou cruel boy thus to forsake thy lover. Stay with me that I may see thy lovely form, for though I may not touch thee I shall feed my eyes and soothe my wretched pains.” And while he spoke he rent his garment from the upper edge, and beating on his naked breast, all white as marble, every stroke produced a tint as lovely as the apple streaked with red, or as the glowing grape when purple bloom touches the ripening clusters.
When as glass again the rippling waters smoothed, and when such beauty in the stream the youth observed, no more could he endure. As in the flame the yellow wax, or as the hoar-frost melts in early morning ‘neath the genial sun; so did he pine away, by love consumed, and slowly wasted by a hidden flame. No vermeil bloom now mingled in the white of his complexion fair; no strength has he, no vigor, nor the comeliness that wrought for love so long: alas, that handsome form by Echo fondly loved may please no more.
But when she saw him in his hapless plight, though angry at his scorn, she only grieved. As often as the love-lore boy complained, “Alas!” “Alas!” her echoing voice returned; and as he struck his hands against his arms, she ever answered with her echoing sounds. And as he gazed upon the mirrored pool he said at last, “Ah, youth beloved in vain!” “In vain, in vain!” the spot returned his words; and when he breathed a sad “farewell!” “Farewell!” sighed Echo too. He laid his wearied head, and rested on the verdant grass; and those bright eyes, which had so loved to gaze, entranced, on their own master’s beauty, sad Night closed. And now although among the nether shades his sad sprite roams, he ever loves to gaze on his reflection in the Stygian wave. His Naiad sisters mourned, and having clipped their shining tresses laid them on his corpse: and all the Dryads mourned: and Echo made lament anew. And these would have upraised his funeral pyre, and waved the flaming torch, and made his bier; but as they turned their eyes where he had been, alas he was not there! And in his body’s place a sweet flower grew, golden and white, the white around the gold.
Elbridge signed a bill which created a voting district packed with voters for the Democratric-Republican Party. It was said to be shaped like a salamander, and so by joining his name to the last part of salamander the name gerrymandering was created. Gerry was Vice-President under Madison. Please, could someone tell me how gerrymandering is at all compatible with Democracy and the Constitution of the United States? And why it is tolerated in so brazen a fashion?
1826 – University College London was founded.
It was originally called London University. Until this time, England only had Oxford and Cambridge as Universities. In order to attend or teach, the candidates had to belong to the Church of England. ‘No Catholics, No Jews, no Hindus’. But UCL was created to be open to all faiths. This alarmed conservatives so much that they founded King’s College in London as a counterweight. This created a collegiate University of London, which now has 17 constituent colleges. Imperial College left the federation to become a separate University in 2007. It now brands itself as ‘A world-leading university. 2nd in the world, 1st in the UK and Europe’. Here is a promo for the 200th Anniversary of UCL. I’m proud to have been an honorary lecturer for a few years.
1945 – Yalta Conference agrees to set up the United Nations to help prevent future World Wars.
1975 – Mrs Thatcher defeats Ted Heath to become leader of the Conservative Party.
First published in February 2023, revise and republished in February 2024, 2025, 2026
Gemini should be almost overhead in the Northern Hemisphere, and can be picked out by its two brightest starts, Castor and Pollux. The constellation can be seen from September to May. But between September to November it is only visible in the morning before sunrise. It is best viewed from January to March. For evening viewing it is possible from December to May In February it should best visible at 9.00pm.
The Divine Twins, the Dioscuri, were horsemen, patrons of calvary, athletes, and sailors. Pollux is the son of Zeus and Leda (raped by Zeus in the guise of a swan). His twin brother has a different and mortal father, the King of Sparta and the same mother, Leda. So they are examples of heteropaternal superfecundation.
One is therefore immortal and the other isn’t. They had many adventures including sailing with Jason as Argonauts.
According to some versions of the story, Castor was mortally wounded, and Zeus gave his twin brother the option of letting Castor die while Pollux spends eternity on Mount Olympus. Or sharing his immortality with his brother. He agreed to the latter, and the twins spend half their year as the Constellation of Gemini and the rest, immortal, on Mount Olympus. Thus, they are the epitome of brotherly love.
Their sisters were, no less than Helen of Troy, and Clytemnestra. But more about them in read my post on the brothers and sisters here.
Diagram of H. A. Rey‘s alternative way to connect the stars of the constellation Gemini. Twins are shown holding hands. Wikipedia AugPi CC BY-SA 3.0
Yesterday’s Subscribers Email
For some obscure reason, the email excluding a couple of paragraphs which were in the online version.
This is what you missed:
Magic and Toothache
John Aubrey, an erudite and educated 17th Century writer, reports on the use of Magick for tooth care. When he relates these unlikely cures he often provides information that the person who told him the story is worthy of belief. So he seems to give some credence to the efficacy of these magical ‘cures’. But, judge for yourself; this is what he wrote:
To Cure the Tooth-ach.
Take a new Nail, and make the Gum bleed with it, and then drive it into an Oak. This did Cure William Neal, Sir William Neal’s Son, a very stout Gentleman, when he was almost Mad with the Pain, and had a mind to have Pistoll’d himself.
To Cure the Tooth-ach, out of Mr. Ashmole’s Manuscript Writ with his own Hand.
Mars, hur, abursa, aburse. Iesu Christ for Marys sake, Take away this Tooth-ach.
Write the words, Three times; and as you say the Words, let the Party burn one Paper, then another, and then the last.
He says, he saw it experimented, and the Party immediately Cured
On February 3rd, 2026 the National Trust announced that it had received £330,000 in 60 days to purchase land around the infamous Cerne Abbot Giant. This was on top of £2m in grants previously received. This means they can buy the ‘138‑hectare (340‑acre) site – equivalent to 190 football pitches – surrounding the famous Cerne Abbas Giant in Dorset.’ (National Trusts Press Release).
The giant is one of the icons of Hardy’s Dorchester. It is ‘drawn’ or sculpted by cutting the turf to reveal the white chalk below. Chalk Cut figures appear particularly in the South West. The Vale of the White Horse chalk cut figures has been dated to the Late Bronze Age. Most people thought the Cerne Abbas Giant was in the Romano-Celtic tradition so was either pre-Roman, or perhaps Hercules and, therefore, Roman. The name of the village and Abbey are named after the Celtic Horned God Cernunnos. For more about him read my Almanac of the Past Page here.
Some dissenters believed the lack of references to the Giant showed that it could not have been cut until the 17th Century. Some even thought it might be a ‘cartoon’ of Oliver Cromwell! They could not believe that the Monks of Cerne Abbey would allow a giant erect phallus to overlook their holy site for all those centuries.
How we laughed!
Dating the Cerne Abbas Giant
But the National Trust embarked on a project to get the Giant properly dated. They used Optically Stimulated Luminescence (OSL) dating, which had also been used on the White Horse. But the results which came back were shocking. It appears to have been cut in the Late Saxon period.
I do admit to a certain amount of scepticism. The art style is similar to British Art of the Iron Age, part of the Celtic Art tradition. Also, how reliable is OSL dating? The process depends on taking soil samples from the soil nearest the chalk, and OSL measures the time since the soil was last exposed to light. It’s a relatively new technology, although based on Thermoluminescence dating of pottery, which has been around since the 1970s. So,, if they are analysing soil that does not represent the first cutting of the figure then the dating would be wrong.
However, there was also some corroboration in the form of snails which were not indigenous to the UK? So a date of 700-1100AD is suggested. And I have nothing other than a gut reaction to the date they propose. Maybe I’m just disappointed by a Saxon date as I have no way of understanding the context?
Homer and the Cerne Abbas Giant, Image from Facebook of unknown origin.
The first Coach Trip I ever led was in the 1980s. An American College Professor asked my friend and I to lead a tour of Arthur’s Britain and Hardy’s Wessex. The group included his wife and about 10 students. We drove a mini bus around and stayed in Bed and Breakfast in places like Avebury and Cerne Abbas.
Following the Tour, the professor wrote to tell us that he had been successful in one of his, unstated, aims for the tour. He revealed that this was to get his wife pregnant. He was a bit of a romantic and thought it would be fun to try for the baby while staying in such mystical places. Apparently, they had heeded our tales of the fertility rites that used to take place on and around the Giant, and had gone out for a moonlight walk, and ‘rested’ on one of the Giant’s testicles.
Lost Books from the Ancient World
burnt scrolls from Heraculeum
Last year, one of the most exciting discoveries was made. This was the news that burnt scrolls from Herculaneum have been digitally unrolled. Then ‘read’ using AI. The scroll was in the library of Julius Caeser’s father in law it is thought. There are over 1,000 carbonised scrolls found in 1750 in the Villa of the Papyri. And this one reveals details of Plato’s last hours. But more than that, the technology opens the possibility of other lost books being discovered. Of the ‘known unknowns’ I would like to see are the lost history books of Tacitus. But perhaps the ‘unknown unknowns’ are even more exciting. What might we find out?
Here is an excellent introduction to the discoveries:
1306 – This is the day that Robert the Bruce killed his rival for the Crown of Scotland. He murdered John ‘Red’ Comyn, In front of the high altar of Greyfriars Church in Dumfries. Somehow he got away with this most impious act, to confirm Scotland’s independence from England.
1567 – the first Gunpowder plot saw the Kirk o’ Field house in Canongate, Edinburgh, blown up. Outside the house was found the corpse of Lord Darnley. But he was strangled not burnt. He was the second husband of Mary, Queen of Scots. Darnley was thought to be responsible for the brutal murder of the Queen’s Private Secretary, David Rizzio. He was Italian and was often in close proximity to Mary. Darnley didn’t like the rumours of an illicit affair. So recruited a gang of Scottish Noblemen. On 9 March 1566They went up the stairs of Holy Rood Palace where they tore Rizzio from the protection of the Queen. They stabbed him 57 times in front of her and her ladies in waiting. (Julius Caesar was stabbed 23 times).
Darnley’s murder it was thought was the Queen’s way of getting rid of a, frankly, stupid, and nasty husband. Albeit, very good-looking and charming. Her third husband, Earl Bothwell, is frequently blamed, and whether she was part of it we don’t know.
Saint Apollonia. Woodcut. Saint of Toothache Wellcome Collection. Public Domain Mark. She is shown with forceps, extracted tooth and the martyr’s palm.
The 9th of February is the Feast of St Apollonia. She was martyred at Alexandria in 249 AD during the persecution of Emperor Decius. (see also my post on St Agatha) She was attacked during an anti-Christian riot and struck around the face knocking her teeth out. Then, she was taken to a bonfire and told they would throw her in if she did not renounce her faith. So, without waiting, she spoke a prayer and walked into the fire. This information is recorded in a near-contemporary letter from St Dionysius of Alexandria. This is rare well documented martyrdom. Because her teeth were knocked out she is, therefore, Saint of Toothache.
Suicide or Martyrdom?
St Augustine of Hippo touches on this spat of martyrs, often young women, killing themselves rather than losing their virginity, or like St Apollonia embracing death in the face of violent persecution. His answer is that like Samson, they are commanded by God to take their own lives, which is ok. Elsewhere, he condemns suicide as it is against the commandment ‘Thou shalt not kill’. He explains that God did not add ‘thy neighbour’ to it so it also forbids killing oneself. By contrast, it was added to ‘Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour’. The rest of St Augustine’s argument comes from Plato’s Phaedo. The introduction to the book on the Project Gutenberg web site sums up the arguments:
According to one explanation, because man is a prisoner, who must not open the door of his prison and run away—this is the truth in a ‘mystery.’ Or (2) rather, because he is not his own property, but a possession of the gods, and has no right to make away with that which does not belong to him.
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Phaedo, by Plato translated by Benjamin Jowett
Cloves for Toothache
I can remember my Grandmother prescribing cloves for me when I had toothache. And this was, and is, a common remedy. In my case, we would keep a clove or two in the mouth close to the site of the pain. According to Natural Ways to Sooth an Toothache cloves contain
‘Eugenol, a natural form of anaesthetic and antiseptic that helps get rid of germs. Eugenol is still used in dental materials today’
Dr John Hall, Shakespeare’s son-in-law, tended to use a pill to soothe sore gums. He also used an oil from a wood called ‘Ol. Lig. Heraclei’ which may be oil from the Bay Tree. (‘John Hall and his Patients’ by Joan Lane). Most of his tooth cases seem to be sore gums. This suggests to me Dr John Hall did not generally do dental work.
Death by Toothache
To get a tooth drawn you could go to a Barber Surgeon, a Blacksmiths or specialist Tooth Drawer. It would be terrifyingly painful. Probably only done when the pain was unbearable. Just think what a premium you would pay for a really competent drawer? The drawers would not have any formal training, but the skills would be passed on by the drawer to his apprentice or assistant. ‘Teeth’ was a common cause of death – most likely from infection or an abscess.
List of causes of death, London during the plague of 1665. Teeth killed 11 people
Magic and Toothache
John Aubrey, an erudite and educated 17th Century writer, reports on the use of Magick for tooth care. When he relates these unlikely cures he often provides information that the person who told him the story is worthy of belief. So he seems to give some credence to the efficacy of these magical ‘cures’. But, judge for yourself; this is what he wrote:
To Cure the Tooth-ach.
Take a new Nail, and make the Gum bleed with it, and then drive it into an Oak. This did Cure William Neal, Sir William Neal’s Son, a very stout Gentleman, when he was almost Mad with the Pain, and had a mind to have Pistoll’d himself.
To Cure the Tooth-ach, out of Mr. Ashmole’s Manuscript Writ with his own Hand.
Mars, hur, abursa, aburse. Iesu Christ for Marys sake, Take away this Tooth-ach.
Write the words, Three times; and as you say the Words, let the Party burn one Paper, then another, and then the last.
He says, he saw it experimented, and the Party immediately Cured
May, Williams and Bishop at the Old Bailey accused of murder in pursuit of bodysnatching
Teeth and the Body-Snatchers
In 1832, in London Bishop, Williams, and May were accused of body snatching. After killing the Italian Boy (wonderful book by Sarah Wise ‘The Italian Boy‘) they jemmied out his teeth. Then, took the teeth to a South London Dentist. with whom they bargained for a good price. (They used the term ‘cheapened’ – I cheap, you cheap, we are cheapening: meaning to barter). The dentist wanted to use the dead boy’s teeth for false teeth for his patients. If memory serves, he paid £1 for them.
The teeth were used as evidence in the trial of the murderers. When the trial was over and the accused punished, the dentist asked for the teeth back! Two of the murderers were hanged but the third freed for turning King’s Evidence. Thereafter, the teeth were released back to the Dentist. He promptly put them in the window of his surgery as an advert for his professional skills!
Earlier, one of the Borough Boys Resurrectionist gang (based in Southwark, London) toured the battlefields of the Peninsular Wars collecting teeth. He made a substantial sum selling them to dentists as false teeth. They became known as Waterloo Teeth.
When I first wrote this in I added ‘How things have changed!’ But in recent years there have been reports of people undertaking their own dental work, if they cannot get access to an NHS dentist. Effectively, it seems that the Conservative Government was allowing dentistry to slip out of the NHS just like it did with eye health. For a study in what has happened to Dentistry in the UK in recent years, please look at this report here.
On This Day
1907 – the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies (NUWSS or Suffragists) organised the so-called the Mud March. This was the ‘first large procession’ in support of votes for women. It was called the Mud March because of the downpour of rain on the day.
1916 – Conscription started in World War 1 with the call-up of unmarried men aged between 18 – 41.
1933 – The Oxford Union passed the resolution ‘the House will in no circumstances fight for King and Country.’
Bird of the Month The Blackbird. The common Blackbird is a true Thrush. The male is black with a yellow beak and the female is dark brown with a yellow beak. The Blackbird begins to sing as early as January, and is one of the birds who sing first early in the morning. British Blackbirds do not migrate, but Northern European Blackbirds often migrate to the UK in the winter for warmer weather. Viruses have put the species under some threat and they need help to get through the winter. ArkWildlife suggests this is what you should feed blackbirds:
‘Mealworms A top choice, mimicking their natural insect diet.
Is an 18th Century nursery rhyme which refers to the medieval habit of baking a pie crust, and putting it over a bowlful of live birds. When it was opened all the birds, well sing the song to remind yourself what they do?
Sing a song of sixpence A pocket full of rye Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie When the pie was opened The birds began to sing Wasn’t that a dainty dish To set before the king?
The king was in his counting house Counting out his money The queen was in the parlor Eating bread and honey The maid was in the garden Hanging out the clothes When down came a blackbird And pecked off her nose
Sing a song of sixpence A pocket full of rye Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie When the pie was opened The birds began to sing Wasn’t that a dainty dish To set before the king?
A stinging Cure for Lust
Another story told of the Blackbird is a similar tale I have told before about holymen and temptation. So St Benedict was pecked on the cheek by a Blackbird. Next day he finds himself assailed with lust. It was the Devil disguised as the Blackbird he decides that infected the Monk. Then Benedict did what a number of saints did in similar circumstances. He threw himself, naked, in a patch of nettles and brambles and rolled around, until his body was sore afflicted. But he had overcome his lust.
Then St Kevin held out his hand and a blackbird laid her eggs in it. So he stayed still for the two weeks it took the fledglings to hatch! (for more on St Kevin see my post here)
Icy Sedgwick has an excellent website on the folklore of Birds, containing a nice podcast, which for those who love a north-east accent will enjoy.
The Goddess Book of Days’ has the 7th as the Day of Selene and other Moon Goddesses. Of course the Full Moon is the proper time to celebrate her.
Selene is one of the most beguiling of Goddesses as she is the epitome of the Moon (Romans knew her as Luna). She, who gives that silvery, ethereal light to dark days. And appears and disappears to a routine few of us really understand. Selen is therefore beautiful, beguiling, unknowable. The Goddess of Intuition. The bringer of tides and the monthly periods. A Goddess of power as well as fertility, pregnancy and so love, and mothers, and babies.
Selene and the Parthenon
To my mind, far more powerful than Aphrodite, Selene seems much more independent. On the Parthenon Marbles at the British Museum she is shown with her brother Helios, the Sun God; with Hercules – the epitome of male strength. Demeter and Persephone, representing the earth and underworld (or life and death). Athene and her father, Zeus; Iris, the messenger Goddess. Hestia, the Goddess of the home, and Dione with her daughter ,Aphrodite, representing love. At one end, Helios brings up the sun with his Chariot and Horse. While at the other, Selene’s horse sinks exhausted in Oceanus after a glorious night of moon shine. It’s a wonderful arrangement, which suggests the scheme was to show a balanced cosmos between female and male forces, framed by the Sun and the Moon.
Cartoon of Elgin Marble, showing Selene’s Horse at the right hand end
I did a longer piece on this pediment of the Parthenon Marbles here
Selene – Moon Goddess by Mike Petrucci -unsplash
I have used several of Natalie Tobert’s photos in my post which I pluck from Natalie’s face facebook feed which is a veritable visual feast. She worked, as an archaeologist, at the Museum of London at the same time as me. She is an excellent potter, photographer and artist. Natalie was a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts, and a member of Society of Designer Craftsmen. You can see more of her pictures here.
First published in 2022, and revised February 2024, 2026
Winter’s End in ‘Winters in the World’ by Eleanor Parker
Eleanor Parker’s book, on the Anglo-Saxon Year, is a wonderful book. It has a poetry about it, that also provides an insight into how Anglo-Saxon thought the world works. For a non-Old-English speaker, it, also, really gives some understanding of the language. It reveals that for the Anglo-Saxons, Winter’s End was on the 7th February. We are now in the season of ‘lencten’. This probably comes from ‘lenghtening days’ or Spring as we call it. The word eventually got absorbed into the Christian calendar, giving us the name of the fasting season, which is ‘Lent’.
So Winter began, for the Anglo-Saxon, on 7th October and ended on the 7th February. January was called ‘Gēola‘ the month of Yule. February ‘Sol-mōnaþ‘ which is Mud month. The Venerable Bede in the 8th Century calls this the:
‘month of cakes which they offered to their gods in that month’.
Thought to be the Venerable Bede, the first historian of the English
Bede tells us that before conversion to Christianity, the Anglo-Saxons had two seasons – Winter and Summer. Winter began on the first full moon of October, which they called Winterfylleth. The summer was called ‘sumor’ or ‘gear’ which developed into our word ‘year’. As in: ‘he was a boy of 10 summers.’
Roman, Celtic and Saxon Winter’s End
There is some sense in Winter’s End on February 7th. Lambs are being born; buds and shoot are appearing on branches and poking up from the cold earth. So, their winter is essentially, the time when nothing is growing, while ours is more aligned to the coldest period.
The Roman author Marcus Terentius Varro divided the Roman Year into 8 phrases and his Winter/Spring divide is also on 7th February. This is when, in Italy, the west winds began to blow warmer weather. So farmers ‘purged’ the fields, readying them for planting. They would be cleared of old growth and debris. Then blessed, weeded, pruned with particular attention given to preparing the grain fields, the vineyards, olive trees and fruit trees.
The Celtic year began at Halloween, and the spring begins with Imbolc, a week earlier than the Saxon on the 1st of February.
Anglo-Saxon Winter
In the section on Winter, Eleanor Parker gives a poetic description of winter. What seems particularly interesting about it is that the harshness of winter is often paired with descriptions of the ruins of Roman Civilisation. So, the despair of winter, the barren soil, the fight for survival is made more melancholic by the comparison to failed civilisation. Nature battering away at the useless ruins, and the destruction of people’s dreams.
Here, is a flavour of the juxtaposition of the bleakness of winter and the sadness of lost society. It is from ‘The Wanderer’ an alliterative poem from the Exeter Book, dating from the late 10th century. I have presumed to change a couple of words to make it a little more accessible.
Who’s wise must see how ghostly it has been when the world and its things stand wasted — like you find, here and there, in this middle space now — there walls totter, wailed around by winds, gnashed by frost, the buildings snow-lapt. The winehalls molder, their Lord lies washed clean of joys, his people all perished, proud by the wall. War ravaged a bunch ferried along the forth-way, others a raptor ravished over lofty seas, this one the hoary wolf broke in its banes, the last a brother graveled in the ground, tears as war-mask.
“That’s the way it goes— the Shaper mills middle-earth to waste until they stand empty, the giants’ work and ancient, drained of the dreams and joys of its dwellers.”
As I read this, I wonder if it is a tradition that began in the cold of Scandinavia? England, at least Southern England, can often have mild, rather than ferocious winters?
However, there is also an idea about the circularity of life and the interconnectedness of everything. There are 4 Seasons, 4 Ages of Man, and the cycle was from childhood to old age, from Spring to Winter. We start young, and become vigorous, and then we decline and eventually die. And so does the world of the Anglo-Saxons. The world of Adam was young, restored to vigour by the coming of Jesus. Now the World was in its old age awaiting the Apocalypse, before the Day of Judgement. So Winter was connected with Old Age and Death.
Bede’s Metaphor for Winter
Parker recounts a beautiful image of Bede’s. The King of Northumberland is thinking of taking his wife’s religion. He, therefore, invites the Christian evangelist, Paulinus to his court. Inclined to convert. He asks the opinion of one of his pagan advisers, who answers to the effect.
‘We are in the Great Hall, gathered warm with friends and family around the roaring fire, with Winter raging outside. A sparrow comes in from a hole in the end wall, flies through the warm of the Hall, and flies out through the other side. Such is life. The Hall is this world, we are the Sparrow, and as pagans we have no idea what happens before we enter the Hall, nor what happens after we leave. How much better it is to embrace a religion that can give us certainty as to what happens when we leave the hall.’
Lovely image, although, the pagan adviser does seem to have made his mind up to try Christianity? . What I like about it is that it echoes feelings I have. We as a species worry about what happens after death. It seems to many so final, to others unknowable. But I think ‘I don’t worry about what happened before I was born, so why should I worry about what happens after I die?’ It’s the same state of non-being. It gives me some comfort that I’m going back where I came from.
1812 – Dickens born in Portsmouth. His father was the son of a Butler and a clerk in the Royal Navy Pay Board. He has much in common with Mr Micawber. His mother, Elizabeth Dickens was a source for the character of Mrs Nickleby. Dickens told a friend that his mother came to him exasperated by the stupidity of Mrs Nickelby. Dickens said words to the effect: ‘Little did she know that Mrs Nickleby was based on her’. Here is a section of Nicholas Nickleby that makes the point.
Nicholas Nickelby From Chapter 1
‘Mr Nickleby looked about him for the means of repairing his capital, now sadly reduced by this increase in his family, and the expenses of their education.
`Speculate with it,’ said Mrs Nickleby.
`Spec—u—late, my dear?’ said Mr Nickleby, as though in doubt.
`Why not?’ asked Mrs Nickleby.
`Because, my dear, if we should lose it,’ rejoined Mr Nickleby, who was a slow and time-taking speaker, `if we should lose it, we shall no longer be able to live, my dear.’
`Fiddle,’ said Mrs Nickleby.
`I am not altogether sure of that, my dear,’ said Mr Nickleby.
`There’s Nicholas,’ pursued the lady, `quite a young man—it’s time he was in the way of doing something for himself; and Kate too, poor girl, without a penny in the world. Think of your brother! Would he be what he is, if he hadn’t speculated?’
`That’s true,’ replied Mr Nickleby. `Very good, my dear. Yes. I will speculate, my dear.’
Speculation is a round game; the players see little or nothing of their cards at first starting; gains may be great—and so may losses. The run of luck went against Mr Nickleby. A mania prevailed, a bubble burst, four stock-brokers took villa residences at Florence, four hundred nobodies were ruined, and among them Mr Nickleby.’
Mr Nickleby ends up dead having falling 202 ft from the top of the Monument. In 1810 Elizabeth’s father, Chief Conductor of Monies in the Navy Pay Office was found guilty of embezzling £5,689 3s 3d.
The Celtic Year showing Imbolc, the new Irish Bank Holiday
I just came across this which I published last in 2023. I should have republished it last weekend. But here it is. The Irish created a brand new Bank Holiday for St Bridget. The first one was Monday 6th February 2023. It followed a public holiday given in 2022 for Health Workers in March. The timing of the Bank Holiday is explained by the Irish Post:
St Brigid’s Day itself falls on February 1 each year but going forward the Imbolc/St Brigid’s Day public holiday will fall on the first Monday in February, unless February 1st falls on a Friday.
This means that Ireland now has a public holiday on the 4 Celtic festivals of Samain (Halloween), Imbolc (St Bridget’s Day), Beltane (May Day) and Lughnasa (Lammas Day). These festivals are quarter-days, which mean they fall halfway between the Solstices and Equinoxes.
The Independent wrote that ‘then-Tánaiste, Leo Varadkar, said‘ ….“This will be the first Irish public holiday named after a woman.” He also is quoted as saying:
“It marks the half-way point between the winter solstice and the equinox, the beginning of spring and the Celtic New Year.”
Extra Bank Holidays in the UK?
There are occasional calls for a new Bank Holiday in the UK. It’s often a Conservative MP calling for a National Day for the British. More often than not they suggest Trafalgar Day 21st October would be a suitable date. This commemorates the great Naval battle in 1805 in which Nelson was fatally wounded. It has several virtues in their eyes. Firstly, it is a day that confirmed Britain’s mastery of the Seas , an ideal day for celebrating patriotism. Secondly, it is the school half-term, and gives a much-needed day off between summer and Christmas. Thirdly, they can propose the day should be taken from the May Day Bank holiday. This coincides with the International Worker’s Day, which is obviously ‘a bad thing’.
Here is an example: the MP for Portsmouth MP’s supported a call for Trafalgar Day here: . The report says: ‘there are currently no bank holidays in the UK which celebrate battles or war victories’. (Portsmouth News 2016).
This, I think, leaves the rest of us thinking: ‘What planet do these people live on?’ Yes, Trafalgar Day would have been a great day for a Bank Holiday, if this were 1839. Maybe even 1939. But now Trafalgar is just not on any ordinary person’s radar. We don’t think so very much about the Napoleonic War or Nelson. Nor do we often sing ‘Heart of Oaks, are our Men’ any more. In short, it is a reminder how distant from the rest of us some MPs are. By contrast, how progressive Ireland seems.
Productivity
The Trade Union Congress proposed the need for more bank holidays. We only have the usual eight annual bank holidays for workers in England and Wales. Scotland has nine or ten; the average for the EU is ‘12.3 bank holidays a year. Finland and Romania get 15, while workers in Japan have 16 public holidays in total’.
A radio programme ‘The Bottom Line’ compared productivity in Britain and France. It revealed that Britain is now 20% less productive than France, (10% worse since Brexit). And how do we make up that productivity deficit? Yes, indeed, by working longer hours for lower wages. It appears that the French high tax, high workers’ protection regime, means they have to find ways of getting more out of their workers in their working hours. While we can just hire and fire, and are happy to make people work in a more inefficient way. Strange isn’t we are told that the French economy is a victim of socialism. Turns out Socialism is more productive.
Saint Agatha, detail from a painting of Francisco de Zurbarán – she is carrying her severed breasts
She is a Sicilian Saint, who refused to sleep with a powerful Roman (Quintianus) in the third Century. St Agatha was imprisoned, tortured, had her breasts pincered off, and still refused to sleep with him and died in prison. She is remembered in Sicily by cakes shaped as breasts eaten on her feast day (I kid you not).
Minne di Sant’Agata, Sicilian (Wikipedia)
St Agatha Patronage
Her patronage springs from the usual mixture of deep and simplistic identifications. So she is ‘the patron saint of rape victims, breast cancer patients, martyrs, wet nurses, bell-founders, and bakers.’ As she is from Sicily ‘she is invoked against eruptions of Mount Etna.’ And therefore also against fire and earthquakes.’ (Wikipedia).
Bell Founders and Bakers? So, the bakers and bell founders, it is suggested, may have mistaken the trays of breasts as bells or loaves? Unlikely in my opinion, as Google image search shows they look clearly like breasts. They are cakes, of course, so that can help explain the Bakers, but the Bell Founders?
She was martyred, at the age of 20 (231-251AD), in the last year of the reign of Emperor Decius (Emperor 249 to June 251 AD). Thus, she is an early martyr whose cult was established in antiquity. But many of the details of her life and death are, as usual, apocryphal and from later traditions.
Results of a search for images of St Agatha in Google
St Agatha’s Church, Kingston on Thames
St Agatha and Etna
Detail of a Portrait of St Agatha by Cariana (Paintedin 1516-17). In the backgrouns is Catania
A year after her death, Mount Etna erupted. According to the story, the Christians of her home town of Catania lifted the Martyr’s veil towards the flowing lava. And the City was saved as the lava flow stopped. Hence, she protects against eruptions and by extension, earthquakes, and fire. This part of the story I got from my friend Derek who sent me the link to a piece written by Father Patrick van der Vorst. This also has the full image of the detail of painting by Cariani I show here.
2 BC – Caesar Augustus is granted the title Father of the Country (pater patriae) by the Roman Senate. Ovid celebrated this day in his alamanac poet Fasti. He seems to be praising Augustus mentioning him with the divine Julius Caesar, and Romulus and Reamus, founders of Rome.
Book II: February 5: Nones
Now I wish for a thousand tongues, and that spirit Of yours, Homer, you who celebrated Achilles, While I sing the sacred Nones in alternating verse. This is the greatest honour granted to the calendar. My wit deserts me: the burden ís beyond my strength, This special day above all I am to sing. Why did I wish, foolishly, to lay so great a task On elegiac verse? This was a theme for the heroic stanza. Sacred Father of the Country, this title has been conferred On you, by the senate, the people, and by us, the knights. Events had already granted it. Tardily you received Your true title, you’d long been Father of the World. You have on earth the name that Jupiter owns to In high heaven: you are father of men, he of gods. Romulus, give way: Caesar by his care makes your walls Mighty: you made such as Remus could leap across. Tatius, and the little towns of Cures and Caenina, Knew you: under this Leader all the sun sees is Roman.
But suddenly the verse turns dark, and the references to Augustus are now slights and accusations. He continues:
You owned a little patch of conquered land: Caesar possesses all beneath Jupiter’s heavens. You raped married women: under Caesar they are ordered To be chaste: you permitted the guilty your grove: he forbids them. Force was acceptable to you: under Caesar the laws flourish. You had the title Master: he bears the name of Prince. Remus accused you, while he pardons his enemies. Your father deified you: he deified his father. Already Aquarius shows himself to the waist, And pours the gods flowing nectar mixed with water, And you who shrink from the north wind, be pleased, A softer breeze is blowing from the West.
Ovid only finished the first 5 chapters of his calendar poem. He was exiled from Rome by Augustus, we don’t know why. But perhaps this is why he was exiled, because he was willing to defame the Godly Tyrant, Augustus, who had destroyed the Roman Republic. Dictators demand flattery, not criticism. Ovid paid the price. For more on Ovid’s exile please read my post on his abandonment of the Fasti here.
1811 – The Prince of Wales appointed Prince Regent during his dad’s, George III, mental incapacity
1924 – The famous pips, the time signal, first broadcasted by the BBC from Greenwich
1944 – War time diarist, Joan Wyndham receives letter from Norwegian lover Hans Gundersen. It confirms he is still alive and that she loves him. Follow the link to read his drunken letter and Joan’s reaction.
1953 – Last foodstuffs taken off Rationing in the UK. From this day forward, people could eat as many sweets and as much chocolate as they wanted. In the War they were limited to 2oz per person, and post war 6oz per person per week.
1990 – the last pips broadcasted from Greenwich by the BBC, henceforth the BBC generated their own pips.
First published in 2024, and republished in 2025, Ovid section added 2026
John Constable. National Gallery of Art seascape with two sailboats. public domain
‘I am this morning, admitted a student at the Royal Academy; the figure which I drew for admittance was the torso. I‘m now comfortably settled in Cecil Street, Strand number 23. I shall begin painting as soon as I have the loan of a sweet little picture by Jacob Ruysdael to copy. Since I have been in town, I have seen some remarkably fine ones by him. …
Smith’s friend, Clanch has left off painting, at least for the present. His whole time and thoughts are occupied in exhibiting an old, rusty, fusty head with a spike in it, which he declares to be the real embalmed head of Oliver Cromwell. Where he got it, I know not.; ’tis to be seen in Bond Street at half a crown admittance.’
John Constable. Letter to John Dunthorne, 1799. From ‘A London Year. 365 Days of City Life in Diaries, Journals and Letters’ compiled by Travis Elborough and Nick Rennison.
John Constable in London
Constable would have had a short walk to the Royal Academy (in Piccadilly) from the Strand. As a painter, he subsequently spent his summers painting in Suffolk and his winters in London. When his wife became ill with Tuberculosis, they moved to Brighton. But he continued to return to London. Constable lived in a cottage in Hampstead, and is buried in the family tomb at the bottom of the graveyard of St John-at-Hampstead Church in Hampstead.
Royal Academy Photo KFlude
I don’t know what the Torso referred to was, but there was (and still is) a fine collection of plaster casts. The students used these for models.
A fine figure of the older man? Photo by K Flude of Zeus in the basement of the Royal AcademyPrint on display at the Royal Academy of students drawing the sculptures in the Collection. Photographed by K Flude.
Cromwell’s Head
As to the head, it is a fascinating tale, which I partly tell on my Martyrdom of Charles I post. here: But here is more details, relevant to the Constable quote. At the Restoration of Charles II Cromwell’s body was dug up. Then the head was stuck on a pole on top of Westminster Hall. It blew off probably in 1684. The head was on display at a museum, but then no one knows where it was until, in 1799 the Hughes brothers, bought ‘it’ for £230. It was exhibited in Bond Street. Entrance fee was 2 Shillings and 6p. Constable’s acquaintance Clanch who I think is actually John Cranch was the publicist for the event.
The display was not a success because the provenance was not clear. All Cranch could say was Cromwell’s head was the “the only instance of a head cut off and spiked that had before been embalmed; which is precisely the case with respect to the head in question”. But then Henry Ireton’s was also treated thus, and maybe others. A head is now in Cambridge, Sidney Sussex College, which Cromwell attended.
The Wikipedia page on Cromwell’s Head, here., has a very full description of its travels.
Weather Outlook
Feb fill the dyke Either black or white But if with white, ’tis the better to like
If February gives much snow A fine summer, it doth foreshow.
If in February there fall no rain. ‘Tis neither good for hay nor grain.
From The Perpetual Almanack of Folklore by Charles Kightly
On This Day
211 – Roman Emperor Septimius Severus dies at Eboracum (modern York, England). Leaving two sons, Caracalla and Geta, to dispute the succession. For several years York was the HQ for the Roman Emperor.
1555 – John Rogers, Vicar of the Holy Sepulchre Church in London and translator of the Bible, burned at the stake in Smithfield. The first of over 200 English Protestant martyrs condemned in the reign of Mary I. For more about Smithfield burnings see my post here.
1789 – George Washington unanimously elected as the first President of the United States. A great leader, who freed his slaves after his and his wife’s deaths, but who also evaded the rules against selling slaves. To consider the wrongs and rights of the issue look here.
1838 – ‘I walked with my daughter Charlotte across the Serpentine, much to my child’s delight, although I own I did not like to hear the ice cracking under the weight of thousands’.
