Genealogical nonsense

Posted on 16th August 2021 by 192.168.1.1

Enthusiasts for the writing of C.J. Sansom will be familiar with the tales of  Matthew Shardlake, a barrister in Tudor times pursuing cases against the background of violent conspiracies, royal intrigues and religious extremism.

The tales bring encounters between Shardlake and historical characters, including the Tudor monarchs. Shardlake’s nemesis is a fellow Lincoln’s Inn barrister Sir Richard Rich. Rich was a powerful man who was to become Lord Chancellor of England, it is not hard to imagine him being the ruthless character who appears in the novels.

In Heartstone, Shardlake has been severely beaten. His assailant planned to return and kill him. Shardlake realizes how foolish it is to try to deal honestly with someone as devious as Richard Rich.

I forced myself to my feet, biting my lip against the pain. ‘God’s death,’ Leacon burst out. ‘West must be mad, leaving you in here.’

‘He meant to deal with me last night, but by the time he’d finished getting the stores some men had been stationed on guard. He and Richard Rich planned this yesterday. I thought I had made a bargain with Rich. Dear God, I was a fool.’

Sharply intelligent, the Sir Richard Rich is an immoral Machiavellian figure with regard only for his own personal advantage. The historian Hugh Trevor-Roper called Rich a man “of whom nobody has ever spoken a good word”.

It was with a sense of alarm, then, that I discovered that the Ancestry website suggested that Robert Rich, the first Earl of Warwick was one of my forebears. The earl was grandson of Sir Richard Rich.

It was baffling. The ancestors whom I was researching were Warwicks, a yeoman family from the village of Farnham in Essex. My great great grandmother was an Ann Warwick, and the family line from her to the early Sixteenth Century was straightforwardly recorded in parish registers. How could the Tudor villain have been a family member?

Where I had Robert Warwick, a yeoman from a small village on the Essex-Hertfordshire border, Ancestry instead suggested the Earl of Warwick.  The family trees suggested by Ancestry included two that connected the Farnham family with the aristocrat. One person had put a red heart after the earl’s name, obviously pleased at finding what they believed to be a famous forebear.

Staring at the laptop screen, I realised what had happened. The computer-generated family tree programme was unfamiliar with the habit of titled families using their titles as surnames and had confused Robert Warwick with Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick. With a smile, I clicked “ignore,” each time the earl’s name appeared.

It is hard to imagine how many spurious family connections that Ancestry makes.

Posted in This sceptred isle | Leave a comment

A helicopter on the roof

Posted on 15th August 2021 by 192.168.1.1

The school would close that summer as the county switched to comprehensive education, the gentle ethos of a bygone age would disappear. But on an afternoon in January 1973, there was excitement among the staff as a teacher at Elmhurst Grammar School at Street came into the arts room where 1Br were having a lesson and announced to the class that the United States were withdrawing their troops from Vietnam,  that the war was over.

The news seemed to be greeted with enthusiasm by our teacher.  To the rest of us in the room, the announcement seemed exciting, but did not mean very much. We would have been hard-pressed to have found Vietnam on a map and certainly would not have been able to explain a war that seemed to have lasted our entire lifetimes.

I had grown up on war stories. I loved the Commando comic books that would have been bought as a treat at holiday time. The history of wars as I knew it was a history where the good guys suffered at the beginning, but would always overcome overwhelming odds to emerge victorious.

There was an idea fixed in my my naïve mind that the good guys would always stay until the end of a conflict and the good guys would always win. When teachers said that the war was over (and teachers were infallible as far as I was concerned), the war must have been finished and the good guys must have finished the job they set out to do. As naïve as my thinking had been, it would have found reinforcement on 29th March 1973, the day last remaining American troops were withdrawn from Vietnam. President Nixon would have sounded unambivalent to me when he declared to Americans, “the day we have all worked and prayed for has finally come.”

I remember wondering why there had been a fuss in January 1973 as I watched the news reports in the two years that followed, the reports showed that the war was anything but over. The suffering might have been past for the soldiers who had been withdrawn, but the killing of ordinary people continued apace. The single image that became imprinted upon my mind was from 29th April 1975.  A helicopter was perched on the roof of the United States embassy as people struggled to climb aboard to escape. It seemed a picture of utter desolation.

The events that were to follow in Vietnam were hideous. The critics of the United States, including those who had chanted the name of Ho Chi Minh in the 1960s demonstrations against the war, were strangely muted in their condemnation of the regime that became established in 1975. There were no mass student marches against a Vietnamese government that killed countless numbers of its own people and that drove thousands into becoming boat people.

As the last Americans and Europeans leave Kabul, the prospects for the people left behind are as bleak as they were for the people of Saigon – not that there will be any mass student demonstrations against the Taliban.

 

 

Posted in Unreliable memories | Leave a comment

Phones and 42

Posted on 14th August 2021 by 192.168.1.1

Phones, phones and more phones. Conversations must now be aloud for everyone to hear. Video must be used wherever possible. Every story must be greeted with exclamations of amazement. Every event must be imbued with significance.

There is a generation engaged in a constant and pervasive search for meaning, for significance, for the making of a mark, for the creation of a legacy.

Social media might grant the fifteen minutes of fame envisaged by Andy Warhol, but it is ephemeral, passing mostly unnoticed. Headlines are now filled with superlatives, as if the writers of the stories believe that if their item receives enough stress, it will attain a significance it does not merit; that the featured mediocre singers and musicians and actors will find talent; that people photographed because they are famous for being famous will have said or done something of consequence; that the unlikely stories invented by the writers themselves will somehow transpire to be the truth. Yet it is all transient, forgotten as quickly as it is told.

Had Douglas Adams not died before the advent of the phenomena that have become so dominant, he might have so much satirised our contemporary world that we might have laughed and turned off our phones and gone outside to live real lives. The answer to Life, the Universe and Everything in the writing of Douglas Adams is 42. Humanity has spent centuries in a quest for meaning, a quest for an answer and the answer is 42.

42 what? No-one knows.

Of course, 42 is not the answer sought. 42 only prompts another series of questions, and questions about questions.

Perhaps the quest for meaning, the quest for an answer is not new, perhaps it is at the heart of our existence, but perhaps what is new is the level of discontent at the absence of an answer. The mood that has beset contemporary international politics is rooted in a sense of individual dissatisfaction with one’s lot. Leaders offering easy answers are applauded, scapegoats are identified as being responsible for the mood of unease. Yet none of it provides a satisfactory answer.

Perhaps there is no answer, William Shakepeare’s Macbeth suggests there is no meaning or significance:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

 

Posted in The stuff of daily life | Leave a comment

Cromwell charging through a piece of boys’ own history writing

Posted on 13th August 2021 by 192.168.1.1

An online search for Samuel Rawson Gardiner’s 1886 History of the Great Civil War revealed that the 1886 edition of the three volumes was available for £750. Finding the books on the shelves of the library, I turned to Gardiner’s account of the Battle of Langport. His writing combines history with hagiography and not a little adventure writing.

Whatever Goring might have done, Fairfax could not afford to decline the challenge. The battle commenced by a brisk fire from the Parliamentary artillery, posted on the crest of the slope on the eastern side of the stream. Goring’s two guns were soon silenced, and musketeers were then sent down to clear the hedges on either side of the ford. As soon this had been accomplished it was possible for cavalry to charge. Yet even then a charge could only be executed at every possible disadvantage. The ford was deep and narrow, and the lane up the hill was scarcely less narrow. On the open ground at the top Goring’s cavalry were collected in seemingly overwhelming numbers, ready to fall upon the narrow stream of horsemen as they struggled up the lane before they had time to form.

Desperate as the enterprise appeared, the officers of the New Model Army were never wanting in audacity. Major Bethel, whose name stood high amongst the military saints, was ordered to make the perilous attempt at the head of a small force of 350 men and Desborough, with  another small fierce, was told off to second him. Through the ford and up narrow lane this handful of heroes charged. If an army equal in spirit and discipline to their own had been ranged on the heights, they could hardly have escaped destruction. As it was, they had to do with an enemy irresolute and fonder of plunder than of fighting. Bethel, when he arrived at the end of the lane, flew at a body horse more than three times his number. He was checked at first, but Desborough soon arrived to his succour. Together they broke the regiments opposed to them, whilst at the same time the Parliamentary musketeers, stealing up amongst the hedges, poured a galling fire upon the -enemy. The Royalists, horse and foot alike, turned and fled. A few troops of horse and a small force of musketeers had beaten the whole of Goring’s army.  No wonder that Cromwell, as from the opposite height he watched the dust-clouds rolling away, gave glory to God for this marvellous overthrow of His enemies, or that Harrison, the most enthusiastic of enthusiasts, broke ‘forth into the praise of God with fluent expressions expressions, as if he had been in a rapture.’

Then came the pursuit. Of the enemy’s horse, some fled through Langport, setting fire to the town as they passed to cover their retreat. Cromwell was not to be stopped so easily. Charging through the burning street, he fell on them as they hurried across the bridge, where most of the fugitives were slain or captured. The larger part of the Royalists retreated by the northern bank of the Parret. Though they made a stand near Aller, they dared not await an attack from their pursuers. Goring’s foot, entangled in the ditches of the moor, surrendered as the King’s foot had surrendered at Naseby. His army, as an army capable of waging war, ceased to exist.

There is almost a sense of a need to find a piece of dramatic music to accompany the reading of the text.

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High Ham in 1939

Posted on 12th August 2021 by 192.168.1.1

A pre-war record of the parish from Kelly’s Directory. My favourite line is the reference to the production of  “large quantities of cider.”

HIGH and LOW or NETHER HAM form a parish, 3.5 miles north from Langport West station on the Durston and Yeovil branch of the Great Western railway, and 3 miles north form Langport East station on the Castle Cary and Durston rail motor car service of the same line, and 5 west from Somerton, in the Yeovil parliamentary division, hundred of Whitley, petty sessional division of Somerton and Langport, rural district and county court district of Langport, rural deanery of Ilchester (Ilchester district), archdeaconry of Wells and diocese of Bath and Wells. The church of St. Andrew, originally erected by John Selwyn abbot of Glastonbury in 1476, is a building of stone in the Perpendicular style, containing a chancel, nave, aisles, south porch and an embattled western tower, with pinnacles, containing a clock placed in 1894 and 5 bells: the tower is much older than the rest of the building: there are several gargoyles round the church and tower, and on the latter is a small statue of the Virgin and Child in good preservation: the rood screen is remarkable for its beauty: there is a brass to John Dyer, who build the chancel, dated 1499: the stained east window is a memorial to John Dobin, of Aller, and there are others to Francis Gillett, late churchwarden, and his son: the font is Norman and the pulpit is of stone: the church was restored in 1870 and affords 350 sittings. The register dates from the year 1569, and contains many curious notes in Latin. There is also preserved here a description of the parish in Latin, made by Adrian Schael, who was rector of the parish in the reign of Elizabeth. The living is a rectory, net yearly value £550, including about 20 acres of glebe, with residence, in the gift of Worcester College, Oxford, and held since 1927 by the Rev. Edward Basil Armstrong Hughes M.A. of that college. There is a Methodist chapel at High Ham, a Congregational chapel at Low Ham, erected in 1860, with 100 sittings, and another at Henley, built in 1841, seating 80 persons. The old schoolhouse is the property of the parish; on the wall is an inscription, dated 1598. At Nether Ham is a chapel dating from about 1650, standing on a site of a much more ancient structure; it contains effigies of Sir Edward Hext, knighted at Whitehall, 12 May, 1604, and his wife; and also a monument to Lord Stawell, with a Latin inscription; there are 120 sittings. The living is a chaplaincy, net yearly value £24, in the gift of trustees, and held since 1927 by the Rev Edward Basil Armstrong Hughes M.A. of Worcester College, Oxford, who is also rector of High Ham (see above). The charities, which are of small yearly value, include an endowment left by Adrian Schael to found a school. The farmers are the principal landowners. The soil is stone brash and clay; and the subsoil is blue and white lias. The chief crops are wheat, beans, barley and apples. There are orchards in this parish producing large quantities of cider. The area is 5,017 acres of land and inland water; the population of the civil parish in 1931 was 766 and of the ecclesiastical parish 753.

By Local Government Board Order 17,645, March 25, 1886, parts of King’s Sedgemoor were amalgamated with High Ham from Long Sutton and Huish Episcopi parishes.

NETHER HAM is a tithing of Champton hundred, Wilton Free Manors. The villages of Henley, 1½ miles north, Picts Hill, 2 south, Beer, 1½ north-west, and Stout, 1 south-east, are in this parish.

Post, M. O. & T. Office, High Ham. Letters through Taunton

HIGH HAM

PRIVATE RESIDENTS

Bellot Hale
Carne-Hill Mrs. Ham court
Goode W. Winter, The Green
Gummer William H. Magnolia house
Hughes Rev. Edward Basil Armstrong M.A. (rector), Rectory
Manson Lieut.-Comdr. William R.N. (ret.), Lyneham cottage
Prince Col. P. E., D.S.O. Wearne Wyche
Reynolds Miss, Southend house
Rowsell Thomas William
Westover William John, The Grange

COMMERCIAL

Barber Victor, farmer, Henley
Bartlett Harold, farmer, Henley
Bartlett Maurice W. farmer, Henley
Beddington Fred Hopkins, canine specialist
Coombes Wilson, farmer, Longstreet farm
Cox Wm. farmer, Henley
Crossman Arth. Luther, stone mason
England George, farmer
Fisher Bertie, thatcher
Ford Adolphus, cowkeeper
Gooding J. (Mrs.), nurse
Gould Herbt. John, farmer, New Road farm
Hodge Wm. farmer, Henley
Hodges Mrs. shopkpr
King’s Head Inn (Mrs. Eliz. A. Inder)
Lavis Fras. and Son, carpntrs
Lavis Albert Edward, wheelwright
Lawrence W. R. and Son, farmers, Bere (letters through Aller, Taunton)
Lloyd Fredk. Edgar, farmer, Henley
Lloyd George, farmer, Decoy farm
Lloyd Thos. farmer, Henley
Loader Bros. farmers, Henley
Lockyer Chas. baker
Meade Jesse Bailey, farmer, Bere (letters through Aller, Taunton)
Meaker Regnld. Jesse, farmer, Henley Corner farm, Henley
Mears and Hunt, grocers, stationers, outfitters and drapers, The Stores and post office.
T N Langport 900
Oram Herbt. farmer, Broadacre
Oram Jas. turf mer. Henley
Oram Jn. smallholder, Henley
Peppard Rt. Bere (letters through Aller, Taunton)
Pitman Saml. Wm. insur. agt. and clerk to Parish Council
Priddle Wltr. Jn. boot mkr
Prideaux (Langport) Ltd. egg and poultry packing station; dealers in pigs, calves & lambs; horse slaughterers, Ham Down house (letters through Langport). Langport 11
Shepherd F. and C. farmers, Cooksley farm, Henley
Sherrin Bros. farmers, Yew Tree farm, Henley
Sherrin Adam Geo. frmr. Manor frm
Spearing Simon, grocer
Tapscott Ernest, farmer, Howes frm
Tapscott Hy. farmer, Henley
Thyer Edwin, farmer, Townsend farm
Townsend Ernest, boot repr
Travis George, farmer, Henley
Vigar Bros. farmers, Bridge farm, Henley
Vigar Maurice, farmer, Henley farm
Webb Harold, farmer, Henley
Wilkins Douglas, farmer, Poole farm
Wilkins Ernest, farmer, Henley
Wilkins Wm. Dewdney, farmer, Whitehouse farm, Henley
Williams Herbt. farmer, Bere (letters through Aller, Taunton)
Williams Percy, farmer, Fir Tree farm, Henley

LOW HAM.

COMMERCIAL

Marked thus * farm 150 acres or over.

Bassett Leonard, poultry farmer, Highlands
*Body Arth. Geo. poultry farmer, Mid-Somerset poultry farm. Langport 116
*Bonning H. H. and Son, poultry farmers, Pict’s hill. Langport 41
Clark Howard, farmer, Dairy House farm
*Cook H. T. and L. W. farmers, Old Manor farm. Langport 111
Gooding Austin E. farmer
Hill Marshall, farmer
Hurd William, farmer
Inder Harry, farmer
*Keevil Bros. farmers, New Manor farm. Langport 112
Lloyd Geo. Wallis, farmer, Bramwells farm
Lloyd Norman, farmer, Fir Tree frm
Mid-Somerset Golf Club (R. J. McEvoy, sec)
*Salway Jn. Thos. farmer, Ham Down
*Snell Geo. farmer, Pict’s hill
Stone Ralph, farmer
*Thresher Chas. & Son, farmers, Ham Down farm
Windsor Percival, farmer, ploughing contractor, and cars for hire, Perren’s farm.
Langport 99

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