Ponderings

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  • A Desolate Beauty

    On the 25th November 1970, the Japanese writer Yukio Mishima died. He died in a ritual suicide which was broadcast on television. His suicide, and the central role that he played in a failed political coup has been well documented. Mishima’s last public appearance was intended as a forewarning to the world, a graphic method of self-sacrifice to highlight the decadence inherent to the movement of twentieth-century progressivism. It was apt to depart in such a dramatic fashion, as his entire life, and his work explored the bleakest aspects of modernity. He made a deliberate choice to die in the traditional way of the samurai warriors, a stark counterpoint to the futuristic notions of living, working and dying amongst the remnants of post-war Japan.

    However, his life and death have almost overshadowed his work. His artistic brilliance as a writer is rarely spoken of, especially his last work, a tetralogy of novels entitled “The Sea of Fertility”. This was a saga rich in historical detail. It is evident that in his final days he dedicated himself fully to this project, putting his heart and soul, and in the end literally sacrificing his own life to finish it.

    His research was exemplary. And painstaking. His love of the Japanese nation, history, culture and people reverberates throughout the books, but there is a tinge of despair for the loss of the old ways. Many modern commentators decry his supposed “fascism” but ignore the important context. Their criticisms are shallow and ignorant, it is easy to throw around accusations of chauvinism or extremism, but it is much harder to truly examine the work in depth. Diminishing him and reducing him to a political caricature is crass because there are so many elements in his work that transcend political categories, and there is a powerfully emotive message which is omitted. His work explores fundamental philosophical themes, and the meanings are complex and multilayered.

    The main protagonist is Shigekuni Honda. Honda considers the meaning of life and is caught in a desperate bind between the material, rational world and the vague, subjective notion of the individual human “soul”. He examines the concepts of life, death and rebirth. At the beginning of the series, he is a young student and

    searching in vain for something substantial in a state of impermanence, Mishima illuminates his state of mind in vivid and illuminating prose, explaining,

    “The only thing that seemed valid to him was to live for the emotions-gratuitous and unstable, dying only to quicken again, dwindling and flaring without direction or purpose”. Fate in particular hangs heavily in his mind.

    This becomes abundantly clear when he discovers the corpse of a dog in a river. The arbitrary cruelty of life affects him greatly. The death of an innocent and defenceless animal is just one loss of life in a catalogue of deaths that occur throughout the first book. In this unceasing tale of tragedy he questions the purpose of karma, while in the background there is the very real and frightening prospect of international conflict. Honda’s reveries coincide as foreign generals and diplomats contemplate carving up the map of the world once more without any thought of how this will impact upon the people who will be uprooted.

    The second book in the series focuses on the trial of a youth movement of nationalists accused of planning a military takeover of the government. Honda is now working as a judge and is assigned to this case. He is middle-aged and married, but the preoccupations that bedevilled him as a youth remain with him. Justice and mercy, innocence and guilt are perennial themes.

    Karma is deeply embedded within these concepts. Amidst the machinations at court, he ponders the fleeting aspect of mortal life, and contrasts it with the apparent immortality and permanence of the natural world. Poetic illustrations of the sacred mountains of Japan are contrasted with the dry business of the legal system. Eventually the conspirators are found not guilty, but shockwaves from the rebellion continue to resound throughout the nation.

    In the third book, Honda is sent to Bangkok on a business trip, tasked with settling a legal issue with a Japanese company called Itsui Products who trade with Thailand. He is intoxicated by the landscape and culture and experiences a divine epiphany at a temple. The old familiar feelings return to him, the love of beauty and sentiment and the dislike of cold rationalism. However, as soon as he finds a measure of equilibrium Japan is embroiled in the Second World War, with devastating consequences. In the final book of the series, Honda is elderly and widowed. Japan is barren and struggling to reconcile itself with its militaristic past. Honda himself is rueful, but has found a modicum of meaning in his life as a father to his adopted son. Honda is diagnosed with a terminal illness and on his deathbed realises that what he believed was reality was in fact illusion.

    The tone is characteristically and recognisably Mishima. He was renowned as a master of capturing the desolate beauty of nihilism. The books are replete with lengthy meditations on vitality itself, in sharp contrast to the all pervading sense of decay. These vignettes describe an environment inimical to sustaining life. It is a sterile landscape primed for destruction rather than any promise of regeneration or renewal. This magnum opus is a symbol for the limits of ideologies that seek to negate the past.

  • The Inheritor Of Unfulfilled Renown

    On the 20th of November, 1752 the English poet Thomas Chatterton was born. He was born in Bristol to a family who played an important and prestigious role in the office of sexton for St Mary Radcliffe Church. His mother, Sarah Chatterton was a part-time seamstress. His father, also called Thomas, was a numismatist who died shortly after he was born.

    He was educated at Edward Colston’s charity school, reputedly on the site of a ruined Carmelite convent. His childhood was steeped in mystery and myth, but also difficulty and poverty. This inauspicious start in life did not bode well for his future. In spite of his efforts to establish himself as a professional poet he died at the tragically young age of 17. His death occurred in murky circumstances. Many assumed that he had taken his own life.

    However other commentators have suggested that his demise may have been accidental, as his death was attributed to arsenic poisoning. Arsenic was a common treatment for venereal disease at that time. Nonetheless his death still created a myth that lingers to this day, of the tortured, doomed and misunderstood poet destined for obscurity.

    His death and the legend that surrounded it influenced other writers and artists for at least a century afterwards, and beyond. In 1835 the French playwright Alfred de Vigny wrote the visionary drama “Chatterton”. The troubled Victorian poet and Catholic mystic Francis Thompson believed that he was saved from suicide by the comforting presence of Chatterton’s ghost.

    The myth was also immortalised in the popular imagination by the pre-Raphaelite artist Henry Wallis in his 1856 painting “The Death of Chatterton”. In 2010 the outsider artist George Harding was inspired to create his own interpretation of this iconic image in the painting “Everything is Real except God and Death”, inspired by his experience as an in-patient at Bethlem hospital.

    Harding re-imagined the mythic figure of Chatterton, and re-created the infamous death scene with himself at the centre. However in the painting, Harding is not dead, but in a state of madness and confusion. In the grip of his delusion, he has no head, in its place is the Eye of Providence. The painting illustrates that disturbing and unsettling no-man’s land that exists between reality and insanity in which death itself has no meaning.

    Chatterton’s extraordinary life and death provides a dark inspiration for those who have found themselves adrift in society. Chatterton was an imaginative and sensitive child. When he was six he amused himself with solitary pursuits, and spent entire days reading and writing. At school he was prone to daydreaming, and neglected his academic work. He started writing poetry at the age of eleven, and this was encouraged by his mother.

    He was fascinated by history, particularly folklore and many of his earliest writings illuminate the old myths and tales of England. The ancient legends and landscapes of England, especially Bristol animated his verse. This was something that he cultivated while still a schoolboy at Colston’s school. It was staggering to consider that he was only sixteen, and unlike many youths of today who are only too keen to forge ahead and create new ideas for the future, he was more inclined to look back into the past.

    Chatterton adored the rarefied world of Medieval England. This was a period replete with ornate mythology and lore. It was a realm so captivating that he would frequently lose himself within it. He even adopted the persona of a Medieval poet, and attempted to appropriate the syntax and style. He created the pseudonym “Thomas Rowley”. The “Rowley” poems are an astounding testament to his literary and linguistic talents, honed at such a young age.

    Chatterton believed that the character that he imagined, of a Medieval scholar, scribe and Priest, was so convincing, that he could fool the literary establishment. He appealed to the great and good of Bristol. He told them that he had discovered a neglected masterpiece written by an unknown and unrenowned poet from the fifteenth century. However they were unwilling to remunerate him.

    Unchastened by this rejection, he sent his appeal further, to the esteemed Horace Walpole, who initially believed his account until he was informed of Chatterton’s age. He was sceptical of the veracity of the poems, and consulted his friend Thomas Gray. Gray instantly declared that the poems were fake. Walpole wrote a denouncing letter to Chatterton in which he called his poems “facile”, and the correspondence ended.

    The rejection wounded him, and it sent Chatterton on a path to self-destruction, and led to his untimely demise. It seems tragic now to consider that he died not knowing that his work of medieval parody and pastiche would become a major influence on the Romantic poets, and inspire further generations of English poets.

  • The Hero King

    On the 13th November, 1312 King Edward III was born. At the tender age of fourteen, he was crowned King. His accession was marked with a three day tournament. This celebration was a stark contrast to the decidedly dour attitude of his father and predecessor, Edward II, who actually banned such festivities.

    The young Edward III certainly proved himself to be a master of the joust. However this was just a foretaste of his long, magnificent and extraordinary rule. He was the personification of the age of knights, fantasy castles, honours, arms, pageantry and jousts. England’s national identity became steeped in the semiotics of war, and Edward was the warrior in chief leading his tribe in glory.

    However Edward’s ascendance as King was not seamless. His father, Edward II was deeply unpopular, except for one particular member of his household with whom he lavished flattery and favour, to the exclusion of his trusted advisers and even his long suffering wife. Piers Gaveston was the King’s favourite, provoking understandable suspicion, jealousy and contempt. Faced with growing pressure from the barons, and his wife’s family he sent Gaveston into exile. Edward’s wife, Queen Isabella, came from an illustrious Royal house in France, and his emotional detachment from her was enough to cause consternation and disquiet from the French Monarchy.

    Medieval England had only a semblance of stability. There was always a hint of tension between the Crown and the noble ranks, particularly amongst the barons. This was enough to disturb and endanger the cohesion of the Kingdom. In addition to this, England had an almost intractable dispute with the rival Kingdom of Scotland, and the borderlands of Wales (known as the Marches). Edward II proved himself to be a disaster on both accounts. His attempts to reconcile these factions ended in tragedy.

    The King was evidently lacking in any resolve to improve hostilities, so the bullying barons decided the direction for him. Gaveston was murdered in grisly circumstances and his estranged wife began an affair with the notorious Marcher Lord, Roger Mortimer. Edward was humiliated, and his authority was weakened. He sought sanctuary in Wales, but he was later captured and then murdered at the behest of Mortimer.

    The Kingdom was effectively relinquished to Mortimer, who seized land and power for himself. However, in spite of his age, the new King used cunning to thwart the tyrannical influence of Mortimer. A meeting was due to take place at Nottingham Castle to debate the affairs of state. While Mortimer slept, Edward III and his troops entered the Castle via an underground tunnel. Mortimer received a sudden and rude awakening, as he was accosted, arrested, condemned and eventually executed at Tyburn as a traitor.

    Edward III was determined not to repeat the mistakes of his father. England had been left in a perilous state, and the King’s legacy was characterised by degeneracy and ignominy. He was keen to reverse the negative reputation of the office of King and acquired a deeper insight into the actual workings of the court, and worked hard to earn back the respect of the nobles.

    A unique and distinct aristocratic culture was cultivated by the King, inspired by the legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. However in spite of all of these romantic allusions, nothing could ever disguise the fact that this was a society that glorified violence and conquest. Edward pursued both, with successful military campaigns in Scotland and France.

    The new soldier-King instituted St. George as the patron saint of England, supplanting native born saints particularly St Edmund. George was the saint of nobles and soldiers, and it seemed suitably apt and pertinent to adapt his legacy as an honourable example to follow for all true English gentlemen.

    The art of war almost became a personal obsession for him. Edward realised that a new weapon was proving to be a major success on the battlefield, namely the longbow. Consequently he enacted a law banning all sports, except archery. This one act consolidated England as a formidable and fearsome military power, as victory was guaranteed with a highly skilled army.

    The English people responded to the King’s prowess as a military leader with a renewed feeling of confidence, which was observed by the French chronicler Jean Froissart. He noted that, “the English will never love and honour their king unless he be victorious and a lover of arms and war against their neighbours and especially against such as are great and richer than themselves”. The campaign in France, in particular, was a source of pride, after the tribulations of the Norman Conquest.

    Edward’s impressive fifty year reign left an important legacy, chiefly in terms of England and its military capability. He was responsible for raising the standard of the English soldier, marching courageously under the banner of St. George. This is something which we must be thankful for, as he alone represents dignity and honour.

  • Tower of Ivory, House of Gold

    Human imagination is vast, and grandiose in its scope. Human capability and ingenuity seems almost infinite. It is apparent in the variety of the architecture around us, from the most ornate castles and palaces and beyond. The most magnificent examples of these are preserved in posterity, but others have been lost to attrition, war or natural disaster.

    It is a testament to our strengths and abilities as a creative, ambitious and inventive species that many of our oldest buildings remain. It is impressive, considering that these were made with basic materials that derive from nature, and fashioned with human hands. In spite of their humble and ordinary origins, there is still an otherworldly quality attached to certain buildings, like cathedrals. Christian civilisation traditionally looked upwards for inspiration, and sought both meaning and succour in the higher realm. The design symbolises the human desire for spiritual ascendance, and transcendence beyond physical reality.

    Sacred spaces do not necessarily play as much of a central role in our lives, in comparison to our ancestors. However they still have a sentimental value. We remain emotionally attached to these buildings because they represent something profound. The spiritual significance has dwindled in importance in our increasingly cynical and sceptical age, but we still acknowledge the historical importance. Our past treasures are always worth preserving, but often this realisation comes to us far too late. We realised this during the first few decades of the twentieth century when a preponderance of modernists and futurists brought new ideas that captured the popular imagination. Unwittingly this fashionable scorn for heritage and tradition allowed crudely atheistic, secular and mechanistic political ideologies to foment as well.

    The inevitable consequence of this was the Second World War, and all of the precious conventions and convictions that we once held dear were turned upside down. Civilisation itself was on the brink of annihilation. Barbarism was supplanting civility. When Coventry Cathedral was bombed in the Luftwaffe raids, this was perceived as a grievous insult to the English people and a grave assault upon the very soul of England. The Cathedral was a priceless and irreparable relic of Medieval England, instantly condemned to the ashes of history.

    This was a devious tactic of war. It has been employed by every invading force since the beginning of warfare. The Nazis were no different to the barbarians of ancient times, they were just more sophisticated in their actions. The attack on the Cathedral was calculated and deliberate. They knew that this one action could demoralise the entire nation. A demoralised people are much easier to subdue, the first stage of conquest in every war.

    The Nazis followed a familiar pattern in history. The Babylonians were convinced that they could quell the Israelites when King Solomon’s Temple was destroyed by King Nebuchadnezzer’s army. However, the Israelites kept their resolve and dignity in spite of the desecration, and similarly the British kept theirs, and evil was ultimately defeated.

    However the task of rebuilding a shattered society was much harder to achieve. Houses, offices and factories could be rebuilt but it was virtually impossible to repair morale. Life in post-war Britain was austere, spare and fraught. We may have won the war, but it was at a considerable cost to our emotional well-being.

    The entire nation was traumatised by the experience. The remnants of war were evident in the rubble and detritus, but also in the broken people. The governments that were elected after the war took a decidedly paternalistic approach to politics. The state managed the practicalities of housing, health and public infrastructure.

    However societal rehabilitation was not easy, as bureaucrats were not equipped to do this, the inner resilience of the British people was the only attribute that could be depended upon. We have been an indefatigable people throughout history. We are less inclined to succumb to apathy and despair, even in the aftermath of the English Civil Wars there was a sense of a common purpose and a strong desire to rebuild society.

    The post-war governments were praised for their efficiency and their dedication to the restoration of the economy. However this is a kind of folk memory, rather than literal history that prevails, an illusion of a strong, stable, secure and unified nation. On the surface, this may have been true, but underneath there were troubling insecurities.

    Fascism was defeated, but communism remained a threat to democracy, and the nation state. The young were particularly vulnerable to the allure of it, with its false promises and simplistic answers to the struggles of life. Idealists always look for something tangible as a solution, and believe in the rhetoric of charismatic political leaders.

    It is tragic to consider that the young and the gullible lack the experience and the wisdom to understand that perfection in society is impossible. They are easy prey for political charlatans who use sophistry to lure them into their web of deceit. Similarly, naivety can inspire the most reckless behaviour, all in a vain bid to solve the eternal mystery of mankind’s suffering. In William Golding’s visionary novel “The Spire”, Dean Jocelin receives a message from God, telling him that he has a divine mission to build a hundred foot spire.

    However his plan is completely impractical, and technically impossible, yet he pursues this project like a man possessed. Eventually his delusions of grandeur lead to his untimely demise. The Spire itself is a metaphor for the folly of man, a creature imbued with an innate sense of his own superiority, but in reality as fragile as a leaf in the wind. No creation supersedes nature, we must remember this.

  • The Dark Season

    The glorious season of autumn is dwindling and the bleaker winter months are creeping upon us. However our ancestors had a very real and visceral dread of the cold, dark days and nights. Without twenty-first century comforts and luxuries, this was a season that could literally mean death.

    In a primitive and superstitious age devoid of any science or technology, old customs provided the only solace for the troubles and problems that people suffered. Christianity was the official religion of this country, but the original belief system of the native people had never truly dissipated. In the absence of logic and reason, the old rituals were utilised, sometimes to ward off bad luck. These activities were clandestine, but they continued in spite of official censure. However these were not tolerated for long. Witchcraft in particular was considered a grave heresy by the authorities.

    When King James VI ascended to the throne he was both fascinated and fearful of the occult. Later on in his reign he became convinced that his divine authority was under threat, and considered that it was even possible that his power would eventually be usurped by witchcraft. In 1604 he persuaded the English Parliament to make witchcraft a capital offence. The law meant that anyone convicted would receive the death penalty. Little did he know that one year later, the real threat to his life was manifested entirely differently. Catholic terrorists, rather than witches, had plotted to kill him instead.

    James’ successor, King Charles I pursued this campaign of persecution with renewed vigour. A trusted lawyer, and clergyman’s son named Matthew Hopkins was appointed the “Witchfinder General”. The entire country was convinced that witches were a force for evil. However the concept of tolerance did not exist in those days and difference was not something to be celebrated, it was actively discouraged.

    Societal conformity was almost rigidly adhered to, this was never questioned or challenged. Hopkins’ witch hunt targeted obvious outsiders, and very often their accusers were motivated solely by personal malice. Many of those accused of witchcraft were simply scapegoats. Failing harvests, sick livestock and infant deaths were tragedies.

    However, people needed to find a cause and it was much easier to blame an errant neighbour than take any personal responsibility for what could have been either an honest mistake or an act of simple neglect. The solitary eccentrics of the village were the most likely people to be accused, and later condemned.

    In remote communities, isolated individuals, many of them women, were convenient targets. Older women were especially vulnerable, a lonely and depressed elderly woman talking to herself could be accused of casting a devilish spell, those who could only rely on a cat for a companion were castigated for keeping an animal possessed with Satan’s spirit.

    Hopkins’ and his fellow witch hunters were natural allies of the Puritan cause. Their agenda was inspired by the same level of piety, and bigotry. Amidst the turmoil of the English Civil Wars the most enterprising and ambitious amongst them were rewarded by their victorious leader Oliver Cromwell. They were granted land in Ireland. Other Puritans sought new opportunities in the British colonies of North America.

    It is significant that the same sensibility that motivated the witch hunters in England found a home in the “new world”. The state of Massachusetts became notorious for its “witch trials”. Many of us can still see parallels between the witch hunts of today and the dark episodes of the past. It is a shame that this mode of thinking has become ingrained upon our consciousness and we cannot learn from history.

  • In Xanadu

    On the 21st October, 1772 the English poet, literary critic, philosopher and theologian Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born. Coleridge was a prominent member of a rarefied group of writers and artists known collectively as the Romantics. This was an intellectual movement dedicated to the cultivation of the human imagination, regarded as the ultimate source of enlightenment and the key to the development and progression of civilisation.

    In our modern understanding of the term, Romantics are idealistic dreamers with an excessively optimistic perception of human nature and its destiny. Romantics were the heirs of utopians, who themselves had too much faith in humankind, at least in terms of solving the almost intractable problems of existence. However we are living in a time of cynicism and scepticism, and these concepts do not have much significance or resonance, but in the past these ideas were considered radical.

    Writers associated with utopianism include the moral philosopher William Godwin.

    In 1793 Godwin published “An Enquiry Into Political Justice”. This essay fired the imagination of a young William Wordsworth. He implored others, in a spirit of reckless extravagance to “throw aside your books of chemistry” and urged his contemporaries to focus on Godwin’s theories instead. Coleridge himself was encouraged by his message and composed a “hymn” honouring him, announcing in emphatic tones.

    “For that thy voice, in Passion’s stormy day,

    When wild I roam’d the bleak heath of Distress,

    Bade the bright form of Justice meet my way-

    And told me that her name was HAPPINESS.”

    At this time, Coleridge was young and fiery and determined to rid the world of all of its iniquities.

    He was a bold and ambitious young man with tremendous zeal. However he was also afflicted with a sensitivity that was frequently misunderstood and maligned by mainstream society and its institutions. He was invalided out of the Army, and in spite of early academic promise, failed to graduate from Cambridge University. He published his first volume of poetry in 1796, which also featured poems from Charles Lamb and Robert Southey.

    One year later he moved to a cottage in Nether Stowey, Somerset. He resided there for a year and created his best work, including “Kubla Khan”. This visionary, extraordinary poem was composed after an opium induced dream. The poem describes Xanadu, the summer capital of Mongol China. It details Emperor Kublai Khan’s pleasure dome, situated next to a holy river. The poem is a testament to the sacred and hallowed elements of the natural world.

    Voyages into far flung lands are enduring themes in English literature. These are mythic tales which are not meant to be literally true. These are works designed to represent a national sensibility. These reflect a common experience living on a cold, dark island cut off from the rest of the world. The yearning for escape to more exotic climes speaks to an insular people who have a deep longing for a land of promise, a paradise, or even a garden of Eden.

    Coleridge and his fellow Romantics were deeply committed to the artistic recreation of Godwin’s utopia. Utopia is more of a symbol than an actual destination, it represents the centre of goodness and harmony. The political philosophy of utopia has dwindled, but the art it inspired has left a lasting and profound legacy.

  • Black October

    On October 7th, 2023 Israel suffered one of the worst atrocities in its modern history. Hamas planned this with meticulous accuracy to create maximum harm and distress, timing it to coincide with the Jewish holiday of Simchat Torah, and took advantage of the low security presence on the Gazan border. It was a deliberate and intentional repeat of the devastating events that triggered the Yom Kippur war fifty years previously.

    This twenty-first century version of war was filmed on mobile phones and then uploaded on to the Internet. However this was not an impulsive act of self-defence, it was a carefully co-ordinated attack. A series of rockets were fired into Israel, then armed terrorists proceeded to storm through civilian areas, including a kibbutz and, in a sick twist of irony, a “peace” festival.

    On that dreadful and unforgettable day over a thousand people were murdered, including 38 children. Hamas also took 250 people hostage. An embattled Israel immediately launched an offensive in an attempt to neutralise the enemy and free the captives.

    The battle against Hamas has been a war of attrition, but Hamas are showing no signs of giving in, even as the humanitarian situation with the Palestinian people continues to worsen. Obscenely, they even use the scenes of starvation and death as emotional blackmail in their propaganda campaigns against the west, and their implicit support for Israel.

    However the support for Israel in the west has waned over recent decades, as there has been a decline in religious belief and young people in particular lack the necessary historical knowledge to understand or appreciate why it is so important. In the absence of religious morality, the October 7th attacks are perceived as justifiable for spurious reasons.

    Israel fighting to defend itself from certain annihilation has been called “genocide”. This doublespeak is yet another feature of the west turning its back on its moral foundations. Also the meaning of Zionism has been corrupted by the nihilists on the left, instead of its actual definition as the self-determination of the Jews to live in their ancestral homeland, it is claimed that it is racist imperialism. This reveals a shocking ignorance, as it is actually Hamas who are the racists and the imperialists, as their entire modus operandi is to occupy Israel and conquer it, just as their Islamist ancestors did several centuries ago.

    The consequences of ignoring the plight of the Israelis are extremely dire, and coupled with the prejudices, black propaganda and the lies the future is grave. It is at least comforting to know that there is a growing coterie of people who can see through all of this, they know that is obvious that those who pull on the heart strings are themselves heartless, those who bleat continuously about humanity are actually inhumane and the same people who plead others to show empathy are in fact incapable of it. Amidst this despair there is a small shred of hope.

  • A Mile From Cheney Row

    On the 27th September, 1825 the first steam locomotive was launched in Stockton. This otherwise unassuming coal mining town in North-East England instantly made world history. The launch ushered in a new era, which changed the future of this country, and transformed societies all over the world.

    The advent of the first train, and the construction of the railway network hastened the rapid industrialisation of Great Britain. This was the brainchild of one man, George Stephenson. Stephenson was a self-taught engineer with impressive ingenuity and determination. He collaborated with the businessman Edward Pease to construct a unified transportation system that combined iron tracks, flanged wheels and steam power.

    The original 26 mile line has been replicated for the past 200 hundred years, covering the globe with more than 800,000 miles of track. The railway boon brought new economic fortunes across the country and prevented the decline of rural villages. He understood that farmers and merchants required a public route to sell goods, and coal needed a more efficient form of transportation from the mines to the docks.

    He demonstrated the urgency of a rail link by walking from Witton through Darlington and on to Stockton. It revealed the impracticality of canals and the coach and horse as modes of commercial travel and highlighted the necessity of a national rail network. Work began in earnest, and along with railway construction, other services and amenities were put into place such as railway stations, signals and timetables. These are the basic elements of train travel which we now take for granted, but were innovative for the time.

    The railway began in the North of England, but the South, particularly London literally depended upon the network for its very survival. As the population expanded, demand for coal to heat houses and power factories increased. Railway lines were built to ferry the coal directly to the docks. Railway labourers, colloquially known as “navvies” used 100,000 bricks per day in the construction of London’s railway arches, a familiar sight in the city today.

    However, as cities industrialised, the allure of the country grew. The capital, in particular soon became a place of alienation and decadence, the epicentre of all of the ills of urbanisation. In 1883, the Cheap Trains Act allowed Londoners to decamp to the commuter belt of Surrey, as travelling outside the centre became more affordable.

    Many Londoners were forced into permanent exile by the peasouper fogs that obscured the city’s skies and they found vital refuge in this rural idyll. However others were less fortunate and could only visit rural counties for respite on the weekends.

    E.M Forster was so enamoured of the trains that he enthused,

    “They are our gates to the glorious and unknown…through them we pass out into adventure and sunshine, to them, alas! We return.”

    Ann Bronte also enjoyed the benefits of railway travel. She escaped the dirty, industrialised skies of Bradford and travelled to Scarborough, a seaside town renowned for the healing and calming properties of its spa waters.

    Railways had immense commercial advantages, and offered more leisure opportunities. However there were other benefits. News travelled faster, ensuring the democracy of this country remained intact. The construction of suburbia itself was a new democratic phenomenon, a creation entirely of the railway.

    Most of us have only experienced provincial life. 84% of the population now live in the suburbs. In 1973, Sir John Betjeman paid an affectionate tribute to English suburbia with a BBC documentary film called “Metroland”. His fondness for small scale English pride and patriotism was a defiant riposte to the metropolitan elites who viewed their provincial neighbours with sneering condescension and contempt.

    The snobbery surrounding supposedly small-minded suburbanites was encapsulated by the patronising pomposity expressed by Jonathan Miller. Miller was the epitome of an arrogant London liberal and frequently appeared on television programmes pontificating rather loftily about politics. He was reportedly so horrified by the popularity of Margaret Thatcher, he complained in a notoriously bilious and spiteful rant that she represented “odious, suburban gentility and sentimental, saccharine patriotism, catering the worst elements of commuter idiocy.”

    Even now, such nastiness prevails. Prejudices about people categorised as lower middle-class remain.

    It is considered socially acceptable to rail against aspirational, law abiding, god fearing folk with simple pleasures. People who make up the bulk of the country’s population are routinely insulted and dehumanised, merely for the supposed crime of voting Conservative and reading the Daily Mail every day. However these are the only people who have pride in our country and seek unity and continuity, and this is thanks to the tenacity of George Stephenson.

  • A Tangled Web

    On the 21st September, 1832 the Scottish poet, historian and novelist Sir Walter Scott died. His personal reputation was mixed, owing to his allegiance with the Union and his political sympathies for the Tory party. In the eyes of his ideological allies he was a hero for championing the United Kingdom as a political and cultural entity, but his detractors dismissed him as a traitor, for repudiating the noble cause of Scottish independence.

    His artistic legacy, however, remains assured. He created a distinctly Scottish literary culture which continues to be celebrated. Scott’s contribution to the canon has been incalculable. He is considered by many literary critics to be the inventor of the “historical novel”, and his example influenced the work of other distinguished novelists of the genre such as Georgette Heyer.

    The literature of the British Isles is characterised by the conflation of myth with history. Poets and playwrights have always found inspiration in legendary figures like King Arthur, but Scott was the first to portray, and romanticise these characters in the novel form. One example is the 1819 novel “Ivanhoe”, a fictional depiction of medieval England under the Norman yoke. The eponymous hero, Sir Wilfred Ivanhoe is a Saxon, disinherited by his father for pledging allegiance to the Norman King Richard I. His betrayal is doubly painful as he is betrothed to Lady Rowena, a descendant of Saxon nobility.

    The princess was originally promised to wed Lord Athelstane, a pretender to the English throne due to his ancestral connection to the last Saxon King Harold Godwinson. Ivanhoe is persuaded by the King to accompany him to fight in the Third Crusade. His conduct in battle is courageous and exemplary and he ultimately wins over the hearts and minds of his enemies.

    Scott had similar sensibilities to other artists and writers of the period, who looked fondly back to the medieval times. In contrast to the cynicism and scepticism of the nineteenth century, this vision of the past was definitive and constant. It was a unified society founded upon solid religious and cultural principles.

    This characteristically conservative rendition of British history was not universally admired or even accepted. His critics were extremely literal minded and misunderstood the purpose of his work, and were dismayed that he chose to romanticise the past. It seemed that his fellow compatriots were far more content to write tales of grievance, and exaggerated or mythologised the perennial battles between the native Scots and the English usurpers.

    Scott was resolute about his work and refused to write bombastic, Anglophobic propaganda. It was tempting to write formulaic pieces for monetary gain, but it would belie his principles. He did not want to degrade himself, and he had enough acuity to see that these were simply vain attempts to undermine the Union. When partisan causes like these infiltrate literature, the art form dies. It is lazy, and shallow to write purely on the basis of a set of caricatures. It also reveals a lack of imagination.

    However, caricature itself has a function in literature, but not at the exclusion of other elements. Caricature engenders familiarity, and helps to illustrate a general theme for the purpose of allegory. It has a benign use, but when it is crudely applied for the purpose of propaganda the intention is overtly malign. The reader is compelled to believe that the caricature is literal rather than figurative, and that the narrative is actual truth rather than mere allegory.

    Scott reinterpreted the story of “Rob Roy” as an affectionate tribute. He did not wield the legend of a proud warrior as a stick to beat the English, but to honour and reaffirm the courage and resilience of the Scottish people. Scott was in the vanguard of a Romantic literary tradition, a movement of writers and artists who sought to arouse strong feelings in an age of increasing materialism.

    The materialists were adamantly opposed to the concept of tradition. They proposed that modernity and futurism should supplant the old ideas. However romanticism was a visceral reaction to the amorality of these rationalists who emerged in the years of revolution. These uncompromising radicals and reactionaries sought to tear down the foundations of European civilisation. Their ultimate aim was to cleanse humanity, divest it from every challenge and erase every difficulty. Science was considered to be the solution for everything that stifled human progress.

    His appeal to sentiment in the face of cold reason was timely, as chaos rapidly unfolded across Europe. This hollow eyed mechanistic philosophy only served to deaden the imagination. Scott knew that a continent cast adrift from its moorings is ultimately headed towards disaster. European civilisation itself was a triumph of human imagination. The revolutions across Europe were proof that when ingenuity dies, society descends into primitivism and barbarism.

    Scott was an avowed Monarchist as well as a Unionist and a Tory. Pitifully, even now, many people are perplexed by the actual existence of a Scottish Tory, as if that is an inherent contradiction. Scott always sought a compromise between these supposedly competing identities. He was content to reside in a realm that made sense to him, in spite of the bafflement of others. He knew that as a Scotsman, he would have to endure a certain level of political and cultural subordination under the aegis of the Union, and the Crown.

    The Crown was founded upon shaky ground, and historically the Celtic nations have always struggled to relate to this institution. This disconnection threatened the Union itself, and the continuity of the sovereign state. The Hanoverian era proved to be a test for the continuity of the British Monarchy. King George III was descended from Prussian Royalty, and in spite of the fact that he was born in Britain, Scottish people did not feel that he represented them.

    In 1822, George was due to make an official visit to Edinburgh. This was the first visit to Scotland by a reigning monarch since the coronation of King Charles II in 1651. Scott was appointed by the King as the organiser of the fortnight’s extravaganza. Scott managed to find Scottish royal regalia for the procession at Edinburgh castle. He also persuaded the King’s cohort to wear Highland dress at the banquet at Parliament House, the scene where centuries earlier Scotland ruled as a separate political entity.

    The highlight of the banquet occurred when the King decided to raise a toast to the “Clans and Chieftains of Scotland”, prompting the chief of the Macgregor clan to toast “the Chief of Chiefs-the King!”. The two week celebration was a success and the pageantry, pomp and ceremony exemplified the best of the United Kingdom, helping to seal the Union and the survival of the Crown.

    Scott spent his final years in financial difficulty, but he dedicated these last years to writing. In fact he became an industrious writer. In the last six years of his life he published six novels, two short stories, two plays and a journal. Scott’s assiduous attention to his art paid off, as shortly after his death the revenue from his books paid off all his debts. Although the greatest debt is his personal devotion to his country.

  • The Wretched Of The Earth

    Twenty-four years ago, on an unseasonably warm September morning, two hijacked planes ploughed into the Twin Towers. The worst terrorist attack upon Americans since Pearl Harbour unfolded in front of the world’s eyes. The entire world looked on in horror as two archetypal and triumphant symbols of capitalist modernity crumbled into dust. Thousands of people died in the wreckage. None of us have forgotten that tragic day as 9/11 is seared forever on our memories.

    It is often remarked that this was when the 21st century truly began. This horrific episode was broadcast in real time all over the world and almost simultaneously amateur footage captured by the survivors was preserved and then reproduced on the Internet. The Internet was a novelty back then, but many unscrupulous individuals soon realised that these gruesome scenes could be exploited and monetised. It was the postmodern equivalent of rubbernecking.

    In the aftermath of the attacks a series of unpalatable elements coincided. Globalisation accelerated, displacing and even removing the conventions that we once cherished and took for granted. History itself was disparaged, during the twentieth century and before it was appreciated and even revered. It was regarded as a noble and prestigious pursuit of learning and a necessary exercise in understanding the present. However the Millennial interpretation was completely different. A new and perplexing idea entered the discourse, history, according to these self-appointed prophets, was merely a tool of deception and manipulation.

    However the counter narrative was replete with contradictions. Ostensibly the terrorists chose their target to wreak revenge upon America, and their supposedly imperialist foreign policy. Vocal critics of America in the UK, seemingly divested themselves of any empathy, tact or sensitivity and excused the terrorists for this very reason.

    It was shocking that these pious individuals displayed more sympathy for the terrorists and insinuated that they were the victims of American aggression, even suggesting that they agreed with their actions. These were the same people who also condemned in similarly vociferous terms the deaths of innocent people in foreign conflicts. Adding insult to injury, they even had the temerity to advise the American government that retaliation for this heinous act was inappropriate.

    The most obstinate and intransigent critics of imperialism are ignorant that their society is a precious gift from the imperial civilisations of Ancient Greece and Rome. These Empires provided democracy, law and liberty but the self-righteous are unaware that these are not universal concepts, because they have such a binary view of the world.

    It was inevitable that such a vivid, visual and extreme atrocity aroused suspicion and rumour, and eventually the rise of internet conspiracy theorists. It is not an understatement to say that the world changed irrevocably from that day. This murderous and dastardly act was enacted with clinical efficiency.

    9/11 marked the beginning of what we now know as the technocracy. The Millennial age is Aldous Huxley’s nightmare dystopia made flesh. However we are all so deeply embedded within this Brave New World that we have forgotten how abnormal this is, normality has been forgotten. The generation of adults who were born in the Millennial age do not know anything else, for them this is how the world has always been.

    This is an era where physical reality has foundered, and a virtual one has sprung up in its place. An entirely artificial world has rendered a world of unreality where borders are immaterial, the past has no meaning and the human individual has been diminished as a mechanical part in a vast world system. No human appears to have any agency, and the fate of that human has been mapped out for them. Algorithms have rewritten the stories of humanity, as libraries dedicated to the art of learning have shut and machines have replaced them.

    Computers are a substitute for information but they cannot replicate human intelligence and imagination. They are an insidious imperial force. Unique cultures have been destroyed in their wake, and people have had no choice but to totally surrender their identity.

    Sadly, there is no clamour for “decolonisation” in the age of the machine. There are no movements to liberate us from technological enslavement. In an age characterised by apathy, dislocation, deracination, atomisation and alienation, our future as a dynamic species is doomed.