You may not agree with all of John Wesley’s theology. Indeed, some of his statements are baffling.

But one thing you can’t deny is that he was a seriously hard worker. His commitment to preaching and teaching and leading was phenomenal.
And sometimes he got sick.

Weakness and Fever
Here’s an incident from May 1741 which is encouraging. Wesley claims (and I have no reason to doubt the claim) that he was supernaturally healed mid-sermon!!

Friday 8th May, 1741
‘I found myself much out of order. However, I made shift to preach in the evening: but on Saturday my bodily strength quite failed, so that for several hours I could scarce lift my head.

‘Sunday 10th. I was obliged to lie down most part of the day, being easy only in that posture.

‘Yet in the evening my weakness was suspended while I was calling sinners to repentance.

‘But at our love-feast which followed, beside the pain in my back and head, and the fever which still continued upon me, just as I began to pray, I was seized with such a cough that I could hardly speak.

Believing and Receiving
‘At the same time came strongly into my mind, ‘These signs shall follow them that believe.’ I called on Jesus aloud, to ‘increase my faith’ and to ‘confirm the word of his grace.’

‘While I was speaking, my pain vanished away; the fever left me; my bodily strength returned; and for many weeks I felt neither weakness nor pain. ‘Unto thee, O Lord, do I give thanks.’
(John Wesley Journal, Baker edition, Vol 1, p.310)

© 2009 Lex Loizides

I’m not a huge fan of the sporting world, I have to say. It’s ironic – as a child I lived in Twickenham and I went to school in Wimbledon. But even though I couldn’t give a damn about most sports today, I am quite interested in the history of a lot of them. Weird.

The history of boxing is particularly interesting (to me, anyway). It was in 18th and 19th Century London that it really started to take shape in its modern form. Indeed, so far has the sport evolved that it’s impossible to name an all-time great. Witnesseth the picture to your left, an impression of a major fight which took place between the American ex-slave Tom Molineaux and the popular British champion Tom Cribb. The most obvious difference to our eyes is the lack of gloves, which at the time were strictly for amateurs and fighters in training. That ain’t the half of it, though.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Boxing started to become popular as a sport at the beginning of the eighteenth century, but in many ways it was closer to wrestling, or even brawling, than the sport we know. Pretty well anything went, and fatalities were not unknown. It was around 1741 that Jack Broughton did something about this with his Rules.

Broughton was, by the standards of his day, a giant of a man at an inch short of six feet, and massy with it. His day job was working in the Pool of London as a waterman. He was, until the 1850s, entirely undefeated (or so it is claimed). He came  up with his Rules after causing the death of George “The Coachman” Stevenson in an effort to prevent similar fatalities from occurring again. The rules were:

1. That a square of a yard be chalked in the middle of the stage, and on every fresh set-to after a fall, or being parted form the rails, each second is to bring his man to the side of the square, and place him opposite to the other, and till they are fairly set-to at the lines, it shall not be lawful for one to strike at the other.

2. That, in order to prevent any disputes, the time a man lies after a fall, if the second does not bring his man to the side of the square, within the space of half a minute, he shall be deemed a beaten man.

3. That in every main battle, no person whatever shall be upon the stage, except the principals and their seconds, the same rule to be observed in bye-battles, except that in the latter, Mr. Broughton is allowed to be upon the stage to keep decorum, and to assist gentlemen in getting to their places, provided always he does not interfere in the battle; and whoever pretends to infringe these rules to be turned immediately out of the house. Every body is to quit the stage as soon as the principals are stripped, before the set-to.

4. That no man be deemed beaten, unless he fails coming up to the line in the limited time, or that his own second declares him beaten. No second is to be allowed to ask his man’s adversary any questions, or advise him to give out.

5. That in bye-battles, the winning man to have two-thirds of the money given, which shall be publicly divided upon the stage, notwithstanding any private agreements to the contrary.
6. That to prevent disputes, in every main battle the principals shall, on coming on the stage, choose from among the gentlemen present two umpires, who shall absolutely decide all disputes that may arise about the battle; and if the two umpires cannot agree, the said umpires to choose a third, who is to determine it.

7. That no person is to hit his adversary when he is down, or seize him by the ham, the breeches, or any part below the waist: a man on his knees to be reckoned down.

He was also the first to really treat boxing as a science, giving as much to defence as attack, and was regarded by commentators of the day as being virtually untouchable. While doing so, he also invented a device known as the “muffler,” now better known as the ”boxing glove.”

Broughton’s work was built upon by Whitechapel boy Daniel Mendoza, who you may see on your right. Dan Mendoza again put much emphasis on the scientific side of things, believing that really it’s a good idea to avoid being hit where possible. To this end he advocated the use of fancy footwork, ducking and blocking as much as possible. In so doing he was able to become Heavyweight Champion, despite only being a middleweight himself. He published his advice in a 1789 book, The Art of Boxing, whose influence may be seen to this day.

Mendoza died in 1836, two years before the London Prize Ring Rules came in. These rules were, broadly, much the same as Broughton’s, but specifically declared headbutting, biting and hitting below the belt to be simply not on. Holds and throws were still part of the game, as – slightly worryingly – were spiked shoes.

The rules would be amended in 1853 and superseded in 1867 by the famous Marquess of Queensbury Rules. Contrary to popular belief, the Marquess of Queensbury, pictured left, did not actually invent these, merely endorsed them. Queensbury was an immensely unpopular man due to his outspoken atheism and, indeed, his support of the still-only-semi-respectable sport of boxing. Still, his detractors could take comfort in the fact that Oscar Wilde was shagging his son. ANYWAY.

The actual Rules were drafted by John Chambers at the Lillie Bridge Grounds in West London (now the site of a London Underground depot). They are:

1. To be a fair stand-up boxing match in a 24-foot (7.3 m) ring, or as near that size as practicable.
2. No wrestling or hugging allowed.
3. The rounds to be of three minutes duration, and one minute’s time between rounds.
4. If either man falls through weakness or otherwise, he must get up unassisted, 10 seconds to be allowed him to do so, the other man meanwhile to return to his corner, and when the fallen man is on his legs the round is to be resumed and continued until the three minutes have expired. If one man fails to come to the scratch in the 10 seconds allowed, it shall be in the power of the referee to give his award in favour of the other man.
5. A man hanging on the ropes in a helpless state, with his toes off the ground, shall be considered down.
6. No seconds or any other person to be allowed in the ring during the rounds.
7. Should the contest be stopped by any unavoidable interference, the referee to name the time and place as soon as possible for finishing the contest; so that the match must be won and lost, unless the backers of both men agree to draw the stakes.
8. The gloves to be fair-sized boxing gloves of the best quality and new.
9. Should a glove burst, or come off, it must be replaced to the referee’s satisfaction.
10. A man on one knee is considered down and if struck is entitled to the stakes.
11. No shoes or boots with springs allowed.
12. The contest in all other respects to be governed by revised London Prize Ring Rules.

As you can see, we’re really getting the modern sport now. I’m intrigued by the mention of “shoes or boots with springs,” and wondering if maybe they were too hasty in eliminating them. I just think a couple of dudes bouncing around on springs would be an excellent addition to the Art. ANYWAY. These rules, in particular the mandatory use of boxing gloves, changed the way the sport was fought. Note Cribb and Molineaux’ defensive stances above. Now look at a modern boxer, Mr Muhammad Ali.

You’ll notice that he’s now leaning forward. The emphasis is on the fists rather than the forearms for defence.

Bare-knuckle fighting continued until 1882 (officially at least) when it was declared to be “assault occasioning actual bodily harm” in the case of Regina v Coney.

I can't work out whether this man is wearing tights or he has nothing to fear from blows below the belt.

Since then, the sport of boxing is as respectable as any other. This can largely be seen as a result of the old Marquess of Queensbury Rules, which completed the transition from something little better than a pub fight into a sport that was as much about strategy as brute force. The twentieth century saw the emergence of professional boxing. As the sport became more acceptable, so it became less concentrated in the fair city of London. And here endeth the lesson.

Facts about Inverness (courtesy of wikipedia):

The name Inverness is Gaelic and translates as ‘mouth of the river Ness’.

Situated at 57.4717N and 4.2254W.

Inverness (Scottish Gaelic: Inbhir Nis) is a city in northern Scotland and it is promoted as the capital of the Highlands of Scotland.

The city lies near the site of the eighteenth century Battle of Culloden and at the beginning of the Great Glen, where the River Ness enters the Inverness/Moray Firth making it a natural hub for various transport links.   It is the northernmost city in the United Kingdom.   A settlement was established by the sixth century AD with the first royal charter being granted by King David I in the twelfth century.

Inverness was one of the chief strongholds of the Picts, and in AD 565 was visited by St Columba with the intention of converting the Pictish king Brude, who is supposed to have resided in the vitrified fort on Craig Phadrig, on the western edge of the city. A 93 oz (2.6 kg) silver chain dating to 500-800 was found just to the south at Torvean.

click here and scroll down for a map of Inverness/Scotland

The 14.11.09 approached both rapidly and slowly and it was with excitement and anticipation that we woke on Saturday and set off on our journey up north.  This is the farthest north we, my offspring and I have ever been – 57.4717N and 4.2254W!!!   Brilliant.

CJ reached Victoria station before I did and very naughtily filmed me walking across the concourse!   We took the Gatwick Express since it was almost £2 cheaper than by regular train.   Go figure.

Check in at Easyjet was chop-chop and with time to spare we went to MacDonald’s for a Happy Meal for a happy CJ

and a chocolate milkshake for me.

This is the first time wev’e travelled with Easyjet and although the flight is the same as any other cheap airline, I was totally unimpressed with the fact that they left our luggage out in the rain and when we arrived at our destination our clothes were wet.  Even more so since CJ was forced to check her bag at a cost of £18 because the bag was literally a zip width to wide for the onboard luggage sizer.

However, excitement reigned supreme as we boarded and finally took off, 25 minutes late.   We were off to the Highlands of Scotland, Inverness and final destination was the Great Glen Water Park, situated on Loch Oich (which we did not know beforehand).

The flight was bumpy but uneventful and flying over England was a treat as always.   The countryside is so beautiful and I never tire of seeing it from the air.   A great expanse of blue sky and great big tumbles of wonderful white clouds accompanied our flight, providing fantastic photo opportunities.

With no idea what to expect we suddenly flew over the highlands!

and practically climbed out the window with excitement.   The view was stupendous.   Great open stretches of mountain and wilderness, huge lakes that spread for miles.    The sun shone down and touched on a mountaintop providing a glimpse of the splendour to come.

Scotland; land of legends, castles, humble crofts, high mountains and tranquil lochs, battlefields echoing to the cries of long ago and remote glens home to towering firs and magnificent golden eagles.

Touchdown was uneventful, no rain but threatening.   Collected our luggage, which was soaked!   A complaint coming up here!   Then over to Avis to collect our hire car.  I have decided to write up a checklist of things to look out for and questions to ask for future reference.

It was starting to drizzle again, so in the rain I checked the car over thoroughly, remembering the lesson from Ireland.   By the time I had checked for little bumps and scratches my hands were frozen and my sleeves soaked.

By now the light was fading and losing no time we set off, first stop Tesco, just 2 miles down the road for supplies.   We had fun whizzing round the store (which was massive and jam-packed with goodies) picking and choosing yummy things to eat and drink, mindful of our budgets.   By the time we emerged it was dark!!!  Now for the fun bit – finding our way through a foreign town in the dark.   Fortunately CJ had printed a fairly detailed map of the area and we made good progress to the A82 (I think) and then on to our destination.

At that time I had no idea how far the Great Glen Park was from Inverness and had considered taking a cab there!   Fortunately I had hired a car!   It was 54miles from the airport!   I had no idea.   We drove and drove, the rain falling steadily and with absolutely no idea where the place was, we anxiously scanned the map for landmarks.

1.5 hours later we finally arrived, just before 7pm and we had made the check-in deadline with 10 minutes to spare.  By now pitch-dark we had not an inkling of the beauty and magnificence awaiting us.   The A-frame cabins are darling and we made ourselves right at home.   The first thing that went on was the heating, as it was quite freezing cold.

Hunting around the cabin it took ages for us to find all the switches to activate the various appliances, and the only one we could not find was the switch for the hot water!   The following day we enquired at the office and the handyman came along to show us where it was – right behind the box of oats I had placed on the counter!!! Go figure.

Then a toss-up on who would get the double bed!  CJ won for the first 4 nights since she was only staying till Wednesday, so that was fair enough.  Then time to unpack, hang clothes up to dry and have supper!   We had bought a pizza for convenience and popped it into the oven.   Hahahaha, we ended up with – a burnt pizza for supper!  The oven settings were unfamiliar and we set it too high.  It tasted just fine actually and nicely crunchy round the edges

Relaxing and watching TV, Strictly Come Dancing was on and not to be missed, followed by X-Factor, we settled in for the week, cosy and comfortable.   Later that evening just after getting into bed, I had a summons from CJ to quickly get my jacket and shoes on and come outside.   I duly complied and stepping out back behind the cabin I lifted my eyes to the heavens and gasped.   A blanket of stars covered the night sky, brightly twinkling and sparkling in the night sky.   I am reminded once again of the fact that because we are creatures of the daytime, we miss out on this glorious spectacle every night.

We shivered and giggled, somewhat nervous that we were so close to the forest, literally feet away, it was dark and eerie and every rustle had us squeaking with fright. With wolves and ghosts in mind, and things that go bump in the night, I did not last long when finally my nerve broke and we skedaddled back inside, laughing and giggling fit to bust.

We had no idea what was awaiting our eyes on the morrow.   And so to bed, I slept like the proverbial baby.  Utter peace and quiet.   Bliss.

Hyperphotos were developed by the French photographer Jean-François Rauzier by “stitching” hundreds of high-resolution images together – a marriage between art, photography and technology. The interactive example seen here combines French 18th-century decoration with early Renaissance paintings.

An exhibition of Rauzier’s work is being held at Waterhouse & Dodd in London until the 18th of December; their website has examples of many of the works on show. Click on an image to access more information about a work and a larger image which can be scrolled or expanded.

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Strange Random Language Fact:

Pinocchio is Italian for “pine head.”

If the BBC doesn’t commission a second series of this brilliant show, I shall take my scissors and use the TV licence to cut a silhouette of Mr. Southouse.

The fourth and (so far) last episode of “Garrow’s Law” dealt with autoerotic asphyxia, angel lust and mentions of self-mutilation, all in the first two minutes of the programme. Add to that the uncomfortable tale of the government’s actions against 18th century (assumed) terrorism and freedom of expression, and you’ll find that laws might change, but human nature won’t.

William Garrow (Andrew Buchan) continues to defend the victims of rough justice when he wins the case of  Susannah Wagstaffe (Rebecca Palmer), a prostitute accused of murdering a client.

Garrow and Southouse’s (Alun Armstrong) association is still strained until a desperate Mary Hamer (Kate Dickie) arrives in Southouse’s office, begging for Garrow to defend her husband. Joseph Hamer (Paul Hilton) has been languishing in Newgate Prison without charge for many months after being arrested on suspicion of sedition. Joseph’s case is followed closely by the Secretary of State, Viscount Melville (Stephen Boxer), and Sir Arthur Hill (Rupert Graves), who engineer charges of high treason against him.

Lady Sarah (Lyndsey Marshal) admits to a devastated Garrow that they have no future together. After learning of her husband’s role in the plot against Joseph Hamer, she intervenes and the trial takes a surprising turn.

Episode four started with a Pythonesque scene in which Garrow tries to find a delicate wording for the fact that prostitute Susannah Wagstaffe’s  client died by autoerotic asphyxia. By means of a length of cord. Valued at 1 penny. Silvester (Aidan McArdle) obviously enjoys Garrow’s awkward struggle, and even Judge Buller awakes from his nap. After listening to Garrow muttering cryptical explanations about “centrical and critical parts” and “expressively evident results”, Buller ends Garrow’s suffering by stating that “the cock was upstanding,” a great deadpan delivery by Michael Culkin. Blushing barristers – you’ll only find them on the BBC.

The charge is dismissed and Miss Wagstaffe, dressed in the cleanest rags I’ve ever seen, is free to go. For one because there really wasn’t a case in the first place, as her client’s death was neither suicide nor murder, and for the other because Garrow convinced Judge Buller that this case, should it become public, could “corrupt the moral climate and encourage the depraved part of mankind to seeking similar indecent stimulatives”. One has to wonder what Mr. Garrow’s thoughts on “I’m a celebrity, get me out of here!” would be.

While Mr. Garrow has to turn Miss Wagstaffe’s offer for non-monetary expression of gratitude down, Mr. Southouse is confronted by Mary Hamer, the wife of one Joseph Hamer who sits in Newgate, without any charges being made against him. Southouse tries to explain to Mrs. Hamer that he and Garrow have parted ways, and that he can’t do anything for her until charges against her husband have been made. A classical Catch-22.

Having escaped Miss Wagstaffe, Garrow is cornered by Sir Arthur Hill, who states that he has to satisfy himself that there’s no animosity between the two of them. Very noble, but basically, he’s just there to brag that his wife Sarah is carrying his child. In Garrow’s place, I’d been sorely tempted to ask “Pray tell, good Sir, would you herald this news if it wasn’t your child?”, but Mr. Garrow’s manners are better than mine. He puts on a brave face while Sir Arthur prances off, leaving a trail of smugness behind him.

However, Garrow wouldn’t be Garrow if he would consider insignificant details like husbands and children as obstacles on his way to happiness. His meeting with Lady Sarah reminded me at times of the final scene in “Some like it hot” (“But Osgood, I’m a man!” “Don’t worry, darling. Nobody’s perfect.”) – the word “no” doesn’t exist in Garrow’s emotional dictionary. He asks Sarah to leave her husband, and enthusiastically confirms that he’d be very willing to play father to Sir Arthur’s child. Very romantic, very noble, but quite clearly, Garrow has no idea of the consequences such a scandal would cause. Lady Sarah, probably aware that leaving her husband to stay with Garrow would have her looking after two children rather than one, tells Garrow that they have no future and leaves him behind, heartbroken.

At the local coffeehouse, Garrow bumps into Southouse, and seizes the opportunity to apologise. “Garrowpology” should be a real word, meaning a sortofnotreallythenagainmaybe apology. “It was partially my fault. Well, most of it. OK, entirely my fault. I regret it. Well, sort of. Actually, not really.” It takes a man with a heart of gold and the patience of a saint to work with Garrow – luckily for our dashing young hero, Southouse is such a man. The two are interrupted by angry Mrs. Hamer and in following, the meeting of the “London Corresponding Society” she attends is busted by the messenger of the Secretary of the State. Garrow and Southouse work together once again to save Mrs. Hamer from prison. However, they do so the Southouse-way, which might be less spectacular that Garrow’s, but still effective, a fact Garrow grumpily admits. I absolutely loved Southouse’s sarcastic way of putting Garrow in his place. Eh, I love Southouse, period.

Now things are really getting started, with Mr. Hamer being charged – only what for, Garrow and Southouse won’t learn before the actual trial.

For the first time, the so-far only hinted political conspiracies behind the scenes become visible, and Garrow connects the dots. This is not about Mr. Hamer’s supposed crime, it’s about people with power not wanting to share it. The Hamers of this world, with their justified demands for equal representation and rights are a danger to the status quo, and Garrow notes quite correctly that Hamer’s case is played out in the shadow of the guillotine. There’s this enormous fear of political and social changes, of a revolution. Men like Joseph Hamer are feared and therefore have to be shut up and locked up. If that means to infiltrate meetings with spies, buy witnesses or plant evidence, so be it.

Sir Arthur Hill, this becomes evident in this episode, is not a man without conscience. He doesn’t feel comfortable with the actions of his peers, but he fears to lose all he has and is, not realising that he might lose his wife if he doesn’t make the right decision.

I don’t want to give away the content and the outcome of the trial, because it would ruin the enjoyment of the excellent courtroom confrontation between Garrow and Sir John Scott (Peter Symonds), the pompous, overbearing Attorney General who manages to prattle on for hours and makes judges, witnesses, the accused, the jury and even Garrow fall asleep. Hamer is charged for high treason – a completely unexpected move, and the prospect of being hanged, drawn and quartered is not a pleasant one. Even less pleasant is the prospect that this case, should Hamer be found guilty, will effectively mean the end of personal freedom. Already a list with 800 names exists – 800 names of people who’d share Hamer’s fate. One name on the list is Garrow’s.

“The Crown versus Hamer” is courtroom drama at its best. Gripping, touching, funny, sad, scary – a rollercoaster of emotions, not least because there are so many parallels to the present political and social situation. Garrow feels the temptation of power and money; he receives an offer that would mean a stellar career, but at the cost of moral bankruptcy. As much as I wanted to be sure that he’d turn the offer down – I wasn’t. Again, excellent acting by Andrew Buchan; I was kept on the edge of my seat until the very last moment.

And while there’s no true resolution for the love between Garrow and Lady Sarah in the end, there’s hope. I think it’s the first time in TV history that a glass of water melted my TV set!

So, what to make of “Garrow’s Law?” THE GUARDIAN offers an in-depth analysis of “Garrow’s Law”, it’s entertainment value and the quality of acting as well as- heh. Joke. No, this is about something important - the presence of a gavel in the courtroom.  Spotting small historical inaccuracies is part of the fun in costume drama, but I’d be on the same page with the author if we’d talk about fundamental mistakes which completely distort our perception of history.

From that point of view, the absence of dirt would seem to be the greater offense than the presence of a gavel. But though I’m all for authenticity, I’d found it very distracting if Silvester and Garrow had scratched their heads every other minute due to the lice in their wigs. The clerk fumigating the court before every trial made it clear that, by Jove, fumigation was needed! “Garrow’s Law” is “Tales from the Old Bailey”, not “100% accurate presentation of legal history in the 18th century”. It might come as a surprise, but we, the audience, are smart enough to tell the difference.

What some journalists don’t seem to understand is the one core achievement of “Garrow’s Law”: it’s not the quality entertainment, the ratings or the pleasant sight of Andrew Buchan in a velvet coat (though I freely admit that I quite enjoyed the view) – this show took Sir William Garrow from the backshelf of history, dusted him off and put his great achievements in the limelight. In our modern unculture of fear and mistrust, we need to be reminded that the rights we enjoy weren’t there since the beginning of times, and that we should never take them for granted.

And now some links which might be of interest to you:

WATERSIDE PRESS
will release a biography of Sir William Garrow by the end of November:

And the good news of the day:

YOU CAN PRE-ORDER THE DVD OF “GARROW’S LAW” ON AMAZON!
It will be released on 4 January, 2010, and I’ve already placed an order.

Original Antique Map of Sussex by Emanuel Bowen

From the Large English Atlas by Emanuel Bowen circa 1760. Very decorative and denotes valuable agricultural commercial and political details relating to Sussex.   Beautiful copy of this fascinating map.

See here for full details: 18th century map of the county Sussex by Emanuel Bowen

Condition: Good imprint, later hand colouring, tacked with tape in all corners to a backing board.

Biography:

Emanuel Bowen fl. 1714 -1767

An 18th century map and print seller, who worked in London from about 1714, producing some of the best and attractive maps of the century. A recurring feature of Bowen’s work, evident even on the early road maps, was his habit of filling every corner and space of the map with jottings and footnotes, both historical and topographical.

One of his earliest engraved works Britannia Depicta, published in 1720 contained over two hundred road maps together with a miniature county map of each of the counties of England and Wales. It was an unusual feature of the atlas that the maps were engraved on both sides of each page, and this resulted in a handier sized book.

He also issued with John Owen a book of road maps based, as was usual at the time, on Ogilby but again incorporating his own style of historical and heraldic detail.

Inspite of his royal appointments and apparent prosperity he died in poverty and his son, who carried on the business was no more fortunate and died in a Clerkenwell workhouse in 1790.
Other Works by Emanuel Bowen

George Whitefield preaching in 1749

During the whole period of the first Great Awakening in America and Europe the power of the Holy Spirit was an obvious feature.

A season of mighty power
The power of God was evidently touching those non-Christians who were attending the massive meetings. The power of God was also touching those who were repenting. And faithful believers were coming into a new experience of God’s love and guidance as a result of being filled with the Spirit.

Inevitably, and especially where those being influenced were new converts, this occasionally led to a lack of common sense and the usual application of wisdom.

George Whitefield, the great Evangelist of the movement was eager to provide counsel that would help those newly baptised into what appear to be essentially charismatic experiences.

Wise counsel from a man full of the Spirit
In a sermon based on Genesis 5:24 (‘And Enoch walked with God’) Whitefield, in seeking to explain how the child of God receives guidance, wrote the following:

‘In order to walk closely with God, his children must not only watch the motions of God’s providence without them, but the motions also of his blessed Spirit in their hearts.

‘As many as are the sons of God, are led by the Spirit of God’ (Romans 8:14), and give up themselves to be guided by the Holy Ghost, as a little child gives its hand to be led by a nurse or parent.

‘It is no doubt in this sense that we are to be converted, and become like little children. And though it is the quintessence of enthusiasm, to pretend to be guided by the Spirit without the written word; yet it is every Christian’s bounden duty to be guided by the Spirit in conjunction with the written word of God.

Led by the Spirit and guided by the Word
‘Watch, therefore, I pray you, O believers, the motions of God’s blessed Spirit in your souls, and always try the suggestions or impressions that you may at any time feel, by the unerring rule of God’s most holy word: and if they are not found to be agreeable to that, reject them as diabolical and delusive.

By observing this caution, you will steer a middle course between the two dangerous extremes many of this generation are in danger of running into; I mean, enthusiasm on the one hand, and…downright infidelity on the other.’
(George Whitefield, Walking with God, quoted by Iain Murray in Jonathan Edwards, Banner of Truth, p.248. The whole sermon is available here)

© 2009 Lex Loizides

Unframed early 19th century French painting

on 18th century painted and gilded Italian chair.

The stand alone, one of a kind, quirky, precious antique,

incredible chair as art form…

A collection of Rose Tarlow chairs…

Louis XVI Ratchet chair

Régence beechwood…

reupholstered in 18th century Beauvais tapestry

17th century armchair of carved turned walnut

with original tapestry…

One of my favorite Rose Tarlow pictures…

either antique child’s chair or model chair atop

equally worn amber leather

Love all the golden hues above…this photo deftly mixes in pattern

and stripes in ruddy and indigo tones that relate to the portrait above.

A Thanksgiving palate.

*

Sources: Room to Inspire Annie Kelly top photo

all others House and Garden archives

Earlier this year, I received the following award from the most generous Wolfgang Amadé Mozart:

I just noticed that my note of thanks never made it on said wonderful blog. Like many others, it’s hosted on blogspot. And blogspot seems to have a Joyful-Molly-allergy. I’m the peanut-butter of the blogosphere.

But this won’t keep me from recommending some wonderful blogs for your reading pleasure. Whenever I find the time, I follow the writings and findings of these amazing, funny, interesting and fascinating people, who, in my humble opinion, are some of the best you can find on ye olde inthartubes, and whose contributions to the alive-keeping of history are invaluable.

Listed in alphabetical order. Sort of.

THE DUTCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE’S GOSSIP GUIDE TO THE 18TH CENTURY
Scandalous tid-bits from England’s finest socialite of the Georgian age.

GARROW’S LAW
Maintaned by Mark Pallis, Legal and Historical Consultant on the BBC show.

GILLRAY’S PRINTSHOP OF HISTORICAL ABSURDITIES
Being one amateur historian’s exploration of the 18th and 19th centuries.

THE OFFICIAL WEBLOG OF WOLFGANG AMADÉ MOZART

ONE MORE STITCH
Reproduction and historic knitting inspired by original garments, objects and patterns from the past.

There are more, of course, and I’ll add them in my next update of MOLLY JOYFUL’S LIST OF USEFUL RESOURCES, but for now, please enjoy the ones I listed, and don’t forget to tell them how much you enjoy their work.

STeel Spring or Jointed Trusses for the help and cure of Ruptures for Men, Women and Children in the Navel, Cod or Groin. Belt Trusses, made without Iron or Steel Bow, the Belt or Girdle is with Neats Leather, Silk or Velvet, being very easy, with a Spring good for all tender Bodies, especially for the Female Sex, keeping up the Rupture with more Ease and Certainty than any pretended new invention. Good for all Travellers either by Sea or Land. Strait Stockings, with other Instruments to help the infirm, made and sold by GUY NUTT at the White Naked Boy in Westmoreland Court in Bartholomew Close. His Wife helps those of her own Sex, being very skilful in the Business. To be spoke with every Day at his own House.

Source: The London Journal 7 Jan 1727

By the time of this advert, trusses were already a long-established treatment for hernia. The woodcut below, from Peter Lowe’s A Discourse of the Whole Art of Chyrurgerie (1597) shows an example of a 16th-century truss of the type advocated and popularised by Ambroise Paré.

Trusses, however, were only one way of dealing with a hernia. You could try taking herbs orally, such as in this recipe given by Robert Boyle in 1696:

Having well-cleans’d the roots of Sigillum Salmonis, scrape one Ounce of them into a Quart of Broth, and let the Patient take a Mess, or a Porrenger full of it for his Break-fast; or else give half a Dram or two Scruples of the Powder of it at a time, in any convenient Vehicle.

The likelihood of this working seems slim, but it was more pleasant than an ancient Egyptian remedy described by Prospero Alpini, who had encountered a modern version of it during his travels in Egypt in the 1580s. A pyramid of goat’s dung – or, alternatively,  mushrooms – was moulded over the hernia and set on fire in order to cauterise it. The method was still used in Alpini’s time, but with a mound of linen strips rather than dung.

Throughout the 18th century, the plethora of potential remedies included caustics, powders, plaisters, anointing the hernia with eggs, applying a decoction of camomile flowers, and administering tobacco-smoke clysters – which, according t0 William Buchan in Domestic Medicine (1769), ‘have been often known to succeed where every other method failed.’

Should the hernia become strangulated, however, there was nothing else for it but to undergo an operation. Percivall Pott described the process in A Treatise on Ruptures (1756) – the full account of the operation is too long to reproduce here, but you can get a general idea of what it’s like from the beginning:

When the operation shall be thought necessary, the manner of performing it is this:

The pubis and groin must be shaved clean, and the patient laid upon a table of convenient height, on his back, with his legs hanging easily over the end of it, then with a straight dissecting knife an incision must be made thro’ the skin and membrana adiposa, beginning just above the ring of the abdominal muscle, and continuing quite down to the inferior part of the scrotum…

Fortunately for most sufferers, the safest and most practical option was to wear a well-fitted truss indefinitely. Pott advised that:

With a truss properly made, and carefully wore, the meaner kind of people may be rendered fit for all the offices of life, will be capable of labour of any kind, of walking, of riding, &c. as all those find themselves to be, who are willing to do these kind of things

He warned, however, against unqualified practitioners who would misdiagnose other conditions as ruptures, and send patients away with a truss on their venereal bubo or abscess. Pott’s comments on ruptured patients’ reluctance to consult a physician are pertinent to quackery on a wider scale:

With this opinion and this fear, these pretenders are well acquainted, and very lucrative use do they make of them ; they well know, that the man who looks on his disorder as a material imperfection in his form, or as the cause of any debility, will be glad to be rid of it at almost any expence or trouble : hence the ignorant and credulous are subjected to tedious confinements, painful applications, and hazardous operations, while the timorous and bashful are cheated out of large sums of money for imaginary diseases or pretended cures.

Above: some examples of 18th-century trusses, engraved by Thomas Jefferys. This and the 16th-century image are used courtesy of Wellcome Images.

From the blog of Emma Collingwood:

Unfortunately, “The Radiant Boy” won’t be available in time for Christmas (the book will go on sale in January 2010). A small consolation: the price for “Lieutenant Samuel Blackwood (deceased)” has been lowered by £ 1.00!

Christmas Special:

Buy “Lieutenant Samuel Blackwood (deceased)” for
£ 7.50 (Europe) or £ 8.50 (elsewhere)!

First class postage is included in these prices!

ABOUT THE BOOK

REVIEWS

PLEASE ORDER THE PRINT EDITION HERE!

PLEASE ORDER THE E-BOOK HERE!

HMS Privet has the reputation of being a cursed ship: every first lieutenant serving aboard her dies gruesomely. Lieutenant Daniel Leigh is determined to solve the mystery and volunteers for the place himself, putting his life in desperate danger. Little does he suspect that he will fall in love with the captain, John Meadows, and end up fighting not only for his own life, but for the soul of his lover, too.

Lieutenant Samuel Blackwood (deceased) – a Georgian ghost story featuring a cursed ship, a vengeful ghost, a haunted captain and a very daring lieutenant.

Illustrations: Amandine de Villeneuve
Editor: Alex Beecroft

Contains male/male romance.

Unfortunately, “The Radiant Boy” won’t be available in time for Christmas (the book will go on sale in January 2010). A small consolation: the price for “Lieutenant Samuel Blackwood (deceased)” has been lowered by £ 1.00!

Christmas Special:

Buy “Lieutenant Samuel Blackwood (deceased)” for
£ 7.50 (Europe) or £ 8.50 (elsewhere)!

First class postage is included in these prices!

ABOUT THE BOOK

REVIEWS

PLEASE ORDER THE PRINT EDITION HERE!

PLEASE ORDER THE E-BOOK HERE!

HMS Privet has the reputation of being a cursed ship: every first lieutenant serving aboard her dies gruesomely. Lieutenant Daniel Leigh is determined to solve the mystery and volunteers for the place himself, putting his life in desperate danger. Little does he suspect that he will fall in love with the captain, John Meadows, and end up fighting not only for his own life, but for the soul of his lover, too.

Lieutenant Samuel Blackwood (deceased) – a Georgian ghost story featuring a cursed ship, a vengeful ghost, a haunted captain and a very daring lieutenant.

Illustrations: Amandine de Villeneuve
Editor: Alex Beecroft

Contains male/male romance.

Jonathan Edwards

The American colonial town of Northampton (now MA), had experienced numerous seasons of spiritual excitement.

A Cycle of Harvests
Solomon Stoddard, Jonathan Edwards grandfather, had led the Northampton church from 1672 and had referred to a cycle of harvests which had brought many of its inhabitants to faith in Christ.

When Jonathan Edwards began his pastoral ministry there (beginning in 1727) he was also able to record amazing outpourings of the Holy Spirit.

George Whitefield’s visit to the town in 1740 seemed to fan into flame the longings and passions of a people hungry for the presence of God.

As Whitefield left Northampton for New York the work was continuing with great power.

‘Great attention in the town’
Edwards wrote, ‘there appeared an awakening and deep concern among some young persons who were in a Christless state…in about a month or six weeks, there was a great attention in the town, both as to the revival of professors [those already converted, or ‘professing’ faith] and the awakening of others.’ (Quoted in Jonathan Edwards, Iain Murray, Banner of Truth, p.164)

But this was no short lived excitement lasting only briefly after the Evangelists’ visit. In May 1741, Edwards preached in someone’s home and wrote that ‘one or two [believers] were so greatly affected with a sense of the greatness and glory of divine things’ that the impact was noticeable, ‘having a very visible effect upon their bodies.’

Indeed, he noted that after the regular church services that some of the folk attending were ‘so overcome that they could not go home, but were obliged to stay all night where they were.’ (ibid, p.165)

Iain Murray in his treatment of this period suggests that Edwards is referring to a morning or afternoon service and not an evening service, which can only mean that they were having these encounters with God for many hours!

Absolute Sovereignty
‘Absolute sovereignty is what I love to ascribe to God.’ declared Edwards and he seemed surprisingly (refreshingly?) open to God’s Spirit moving in power upon the people as an undeniable feature of the revival.

If we look around the world today, at the great ‘harvests’ of South America, China and Africa it is practically impossible not to notice the similarity of phenomena, and the resultant increase of new followers of Christ.

The Holy Spirit is still powerfully active around the world and many thankful Christian leaders can echo Edwards’ words of 1741,

‘There was an appearance of a glorious progress of the work of God upon the hearts of sinners, in conviction and conversion, this summer and autumn, and great numbers, I think we have reason to hope, were brought savingly home to Christ.’ (ibid, p.165)

More next time…

© 2009 Lex Loizides

You know me – I’m a crusader for the truth. I aim in this blog for absolute accuracy 54% of the time – that’s more than half. So when I discover that I have inadvertantly made a mistake it upsets me. Not a huge amount, admittedly, but a bit. Enough to write this entry, put it that way.

See, I was questioned on my sources for the entry ‘Joseph Manton’s Huge Bottom’ (http://londonparticulars.wordpress.com/2009/02/11/joseph-mantons-huge-bottom/) in which I recounted the tale of how the gunsmith Joseph Manton encountered a highwayman while crossing Hounslow Heath. To briefly recount, Manton damned the highwayman for his insolence, as Manton’s own firm of gunsmiths had manufactured the highwayman’s gun. The highwayman, slick as you like, complimented Manton for his craftsmanship but complained that the gun was a rip-off. Therefore, he robbed Manton of precisely the price of the pistol and no more. A couple of days ago, I found this comment on the entry:

Tom, just out of curiosity – where did you get this story from? I haven’t seen it in any of my books where Joe Manton is mentioned.

“No problem,” I thought, “I’ll just have a look in my own library and… well, God be damned.” I couldn’t for the life of me remember where I’d read that tale. I eventually tracked it down to one of those “Did You Know?” kind of books. You know, the ones that don’t have a bibliography. Anyway, they must have got it from somewhere, but damned if I can find it. So, for now, let’s say this one is apocryphal. Unless anyone knows any better.

Actually, I should have been more careful – I’ve dismissed other “facts” with less evidence. For instance, there’s a tale that gets forwarded to me in my capacity as a chap known to be a fan of London and steam-powered things. This tale goes that the people of East London were appalled by the sight of the first steam locomotive of the London and Greenwich Railway. The solution devised by the Board of Directors was to build a new locomotive that was shaped like a ship, because there are lots of those in East London anyway. I have not, however, found any mention of this in books about the London and Greenwich Railway. Even the ones with a full stocklist. It seems rather unlikely, and in any case, this would do nothing to disguise the train’s load, nor would it reduce the greater nuisances of noise and sparks. The closest I’ve been able to find was mention of a ship used by Arctic explorer John Franklin called the Erebus, which was converted to steam power using parts from a locomotive of the London and Greenwich Railway. So you see, I do have some integrity.

EDIT: A previous version of this entry was even worse.

This ironstone vegetable dish normally resides in the china cupboard in the Beall-Dawson dining room, but occasionally it gets a chance to sit in a more visible spot. The bowl was donated in the early 1960s by Minnie Yearly, who said that it came to her family from the Carrolls and had been used by Maryland Governor Charles Carroll (1737-1832). According to Miss Yearly it dates from about 1760, although the bowl has no maker’s marks or other identifications. The finial on the domed cover is formed into a little rococo pile of fruit; the donor suggested in a letter that the bowl was used “to keep the creamed spinach, hot beef stews or lamb stews.”

When talking about the Historical Society’s collections, I almost always refer to them as “mine.” “I have a clock like that,” “My quilt has a tape binding,” that kind of thing. This is nonsense, of course. Really, our collections are not even “ours;” we hold them in the public trust; they’re yours, dear Reader. But I have a personal affection for most (not quite all; it’s hard for me to get worked up over, say, an unprovenanced clover seeder) of our artifacts, and it comes out in the way I talk about them.

Not everything is “mine;” sometimes an associated name takes precedence – usually a donor. I’m not sure why I identify so many of our artifacts with their donors instead of their owners; maybe it comes from reading all the donation correspondence, making the personality of the woman in the 1960s far more immediate than that of the dead famous guy (no offense, Gov. Carroll) in the 1760s. This slight discrepency was made clear a few weeks ago, when my – sorry, our collections volunteer suggested we put “the Carroll bowl” on the dining room table for the season. I had to think about it for while, then asked, “Do you mean Miss Yearly’s bowl?” Neither one of us was entirely certain what the other person was talking about.*

Miss Yearly’s – a.k.a. the Carroll family – bowl is on display on the dining room table for a few more weeks, although it will have to go back into the china cupboard (still visible, but you have to know where to look) when the holiday decorations go up in December.

* (That’s why artifact numbering systems are so important! Gc0001 is Gc0001, no matter what name we call it.)

Stunning image of Dahlias being arranged in an 18th century Moroccan marble fountain

in the Tangier home of architect Roberto Peregalli. Roberto and his partner Laura

Sartori Rimini set about restoring and joining a derelict trio of houses while preserving

a sense of their history. Crate upon crate of 17th and 18th century Tunisian tiles

journeyed across the Pyrenees and Italy to be carried here in wheelbarrows through

the maze of Medina alleyways. Old doors, railings, windows, balustrades and hardware

were purchased on travels about Morocco, sojourns through Paris and London flea

markets. Roberto photo-documented the original 18th century walls, “It was necessary

for the contrast between the shiny surfaces of the glazed tiles and the diaphanous

surfaces of the lime-washed walls- with an inner light achieved by many layers of paint

-to be convincing, to be “right”, soft…” Italian painter Edvige Tamburini directed

the restoration of the walls, working to achieve the same colors, using the same

materials as the 18th century.

A French arm chair upholstered in petit point

is crowned by a northern Italian portrait, both from the 17th century

Absolutely incredible wall treatment...I could swim in this color, roll

onto my back and stare at the sky in this color…

Victorian chairs surround the dining room table,

below copper lantern from the same period…

On the far wall, a panel of 18th century tiles from Fez

is flanked by two panels of 16th century tiles from Seville

Black and white antique marble tiles line the floor

of the L-shaped entrance, and are echoed among

the 18th century Tunisian tiles that decorate the dado.

A fragment of an antique Caucasian carpet hangs

from the first-floor gallery’s balustrade.

A huge skylight above floods the chamber with light

and suspends a great lantern by a double chain…

Antique double doors open out to to give a view of

the library and its early 19th century Italian bookcase.

Walls as painter’s canvas…truly inspirational.

*

The World of Interiors Nov ‘09

Photography Roland Beaufre

]]> http://quackdoctor.wordpress.com/2009/11/17/some-remarkable-cases-of-worms/ Tue, 17 Nov 2009 21:52:48 +0000 Caroline Rance http://quackdoctor.wordpress.com/2009/11/17/some-remarkable-cases-of-worms/

This post departs from the usual because it’s not directly related to an advertised remedy, and no one involved is out to make money from selling cures. While I was researching the Sugar Plums for Worms, however, I came across many interesting stories showing the impact of parasites on individuals’ health, and the heroic efforts those individuals made to cure themselves. A mere two cases are given here – there are many more. I was intending to describe a third, but it was one that made even me feel sick.

In early 1757,  (though the case was not published until 1785 in the Medical Transactions of the College of Physicians, London), Daniel Neal, of Doddlestone in Cheshire, was

…attacked with uncommon pains in his stomach, attended with nausea, vomiting, constipation of the bowels, and an almost total loss of sleep and appetite. Under these circumstances he soon became greatly emaciated, and could neither stand nor walk uprightly ; his belly grew small and hard, and so closely contracted, that the sternum covered the navel in such a manner, it could with difficulty be discovered or felt with the finger; his urine was always milky, and soon deposited a thick white sediment; his excrements were very hard and lumpy, resembling those of sheep, only of a brown color, nor had he ever a stool of that kind without some medicine or other to procure it.

He continued in this state for some years, eventually going to hospital in 1761 and spending seven weeks there before giving up and going home. The following Christmas, he was advised by a neighbour to drink salt and water, so he immediately gave it a try, dissolving two pounds of salt  in two quarts of water and downing the lot in under an hour. The effect was rapid – he threw up ‘about half a pint of small worms, part ascarides, and the rest resembling those worms which are called the botts, and frequently met with in the stomach of horses, only much smaller, and about the size of a grain of wheat.’

More worms made their exit in the other direction but the salt affected the patient with ‘a most troublesome dysuria and strangury.’ Thankfully, this soon abated, and the undefeated Mr Neal repeated his adventure, ‘the effects of which were nearly similar to the former, only, that most of the worms were now burst, and came away with a considerable quantity of slime and mucus.’ ..

Five days after his first go at the treatment, Neal was up and about. He soon recovered completely, though he took the precaution of drinking salt water every so often, just in case.

A few years before Neal’s ordeal, in 1750, a ‘Gentleman at Lyons’ wrote to the Gentleman’s Magazine with an account of how he had rid himself of his tapeworm after years of unsuccessful medical treatment that had parted him only from his money, not from his passenger. Having determined that he would rather ‘die by poison, which I might ignorantly swallow in my search for a remedy, than to languish so long in bed,’  the gentleman set about recklessly eating every herb he could find, but nothing worked. At length, he decided drastic measures were called for.

Convinced that tapeworm (then more commonly called flatworms or broadworms) were oblivious to medicines because their heads were safely buried in the intestinal wall, the gentleman fashioned ‘some small hooks of lead, with 3 points, like an harping iron, and fastened them with a piece of thread to a leaden bullet, in order to swallow them.’..This innovative method

…brought away many pieces of these worms, without producing any ill effects, except that when the worms were entangled in the hook, they made such efforts to disengage themselves, as threw me into great agonies.

After moderate success, the gentleman redesigned the hook, attached it to a piece of thread like a fishing line and swallowed it, keeping hold of the end. His witnessing friends had

…such a compassionate sense of my sufferings and danger that, to avoid the pain of attending the issue of so dangerous an experiment, they chose rather to leave me, than to remain near enough to afford me such assistance as I might need.

Unable to pull the hook back up, he swallowed it, and at length it reappeared at the other end of his digestive system accompanied by a worm described – rather traumatisingly – as being 30 ells long with a head like a cat. Further use of the hooks eventually cured him. He concluded his account with:

The author of this letter has much more to add, both concerning the symptoms of this malady and method of cure, but feared to be tedious; he kindly intimates a readiness to satisfy those whose curiosity or distress may make them desirous of further information.

The excellent third episode of “Garrow’s Law” confirmed what we already assumed: Mr. Garrow might be the upcoming star on the stage of the Old Bailey, but in all other aspects of his life, he is – with all due respect – not the brightest candle on the candlestick.

Garrow handles challenges – be they of a professional (Silvester) or romantical (Lady Sarah) nature – like a  petulant child. But temper tantrums and hurt vanities will neither pave the way to a lasting career nor win a woman’s heart, so maybe Lady Sarah should rather have whacked her pigheaded firebrand on the head with her fan than kissed him. Then again, who could blame her.

Garrow (Andrew Buchan) defends the detestable Edgar Cole (James Bradshaw) on a charge of raping a servant girl (Josie Farmiloe), much to the disappointment of Lady Sarah (Lyndsey Marshal). She confronts Garrow, and Silvester (Aidan McArdle) senses the intimacy between them. His insinuation offends Garrow and he challenges Silvester to a duel. He also comes up against his old nemesis Edward Forrester (Steven Waddington) over the case of a stolen box of lace. Garrow seeks help from Southouse (Alun Armstrong), but will his close friendship with Lady Sarah cost him his association with his dear mentor?

“Garrow’s Law” made it into the Top 50 of the UK iTunes downloads last week, and it’s clear to see why: it’s excellently written, acted, directed and researched drama with just the right pinch of romance and humour to make it appealing to a wide audience. It’s set in the 18th century, yes – but there are neither dust nor cobwebs – and you may take that literally. This is one of the cleanest versions of 18th century London I’ve ever seen. Even the off-all thrown at the culprit in the stocks seems to come straight from the farmers’ market.

William Garrow has reached a crossroad in his life – will his future actions be guided by principles or purposes? The audience better be prepared for its loyalties to be challenged: it’s not so much Garrow’s decision to defend rapist Edgar Cole per se which makes us frown, it’s the perfidious way in which he leads the victim on. He’s willingly sacrificing the poor girl for his own success; friendly, understanding, compassionate, he talks to the girl as you would to a frightened child – but he only has one target: freedom for his client, whom he knows to be guilty. Great acting by Andrew Buchan here, but Lady Sarah isn’t amused; actually, she’s outraged and not holding back in telling a flabbergasted Garrow what she thinks of him. By the end of the trial, one’s disgusted with the hero and sides with Silvester; this sure speaks for the quality of the writing. Nothing is ever black and white here.

It’s a pity there’s only one episode left, for now the characters are established and we learn more about them, their motivations and interactions. Mr. Southouse got himself new teeth – five guinees each, imagine! – but what loving husband wouldn’t happily sacrifice such an amount to keep his wife happy? Southouse is a wonderful character, and his portrayal by Alun Armstrong superb. Southouse and Garrow have very much a father/son relationship, and there’s great chemistry between them. It sure looked like Southouse secretly enjoyed teaching Garrow, who foolishly challenged Silvester to a duel, how to use a duelling pistol, even though he didn’t agree with the duel itself. Garrow, being his usual humble self, completely overestimates his abilities as a marksman while underestimating Silvester’s determination to teach him a lesson. The outcome is both humiliating and painful for Garrow.

Lady Sarah, not impressed with Garrow’s juvenile attempts at “defending” her honour, has to deal with a jealous husband, and she handles the situation very well, given the circumstances. Unlike the way women are usually portrayed in dramas set in that period, she’s very capable, confident and straightforward. A refreshing perspective, and if you look at the achievements of some women in the 18th century, it’s not an unrealistic one. Just because history was written by men doesn’t mean women had no part in making it!

It’s obvious Lady Sarah’s drawn to Garrow, but neither her conscience nor her sense of loyalty for her husband allow her to act upon her feelings beyond a kiss – for now. Her actions are far more rational and mature than Garrow’s, and she’s the one in charge. How things would go if Sir Arthur should act in a manner that betrayed his wife’s sense of loyalty and justice remains to be seen, though. Luckily, Sir Arthur isn’t portrayed as a cruel, unbearable ogre of a husband; a trope unfortunately found in many period dramas. He’s quite forward in asking her if he was a cuckold, without yelling and drama.

While things are getting pear-shaped in the Hill-household, Garrow is taking great pleasure in suffering. Southouse calls his injury a mere nick in the arm, but Garrow’s quick to point out that it’s a “most painful one”. May the Gods prevent this man from ever catching a cold; he’d be unsufferable. Lady Sarah visits him to see how he’s doing, and things go as they tend to go in such situations.

As a consequence, it dawns to Southouse what, or rather, who the actual reason for the duel was. He’s both disappointed and angry with his young protégé for deceving him; this does not bode well for the future. However, despite his personal problems (not to mention his “most painful” injury!), Garrow is butting heads in court with Forrester, the corrupt thieftaker we’ve already encountered before. Unfortunately, Garrow’s focus is more on his dislike for Silvester and his feelings for Lady Sarah, so things don’t go well for the unfortunate couple of thieves that were paid by Forrester to rob a lace shop, only to find themselves not only arrested, but also blamed for the murder of the shopkeeper’s grandson.

Though Garrow manages to at least save the lives of his clients and finally expose Forrester’s evil deeds, he falls out with well-meaning Southouse due to his arrogance and hot temper, deeply disappointing and hurting his fatherly friend. By the end of the episode, William Garrow’s about as popular as the swine flu.

Watch the latest episode of “Garrow’s Law” on the BBC iPlayer

Buy episodes of “Garrow’s Law” on iTunes

Read Mark Pallis’ entry about the real cases which inspired this episode

So this is the story of the cute little clock that got away…

Thankfully.

French brass lantern clock

Face with enameled numerals below oval medallion “JB Duchesne Paris”,

hours and seconds marked on dial, brass works, probably a 19th century copy of

18th century clock, 13-3/4 in. Door slightly bent, finials at top of case repaired, top

slightly loose (does not fit well), lacking key and pendulum

Estimate $200-400

Starting bid $100

I noticed this cute little clock at an Auction house that allows online bidding…

I’ve looked at Auction houses, tracked items, seen items often go below the estimate.

The night before the Auction, no bids had been made on it, and since it started very early

the next morning, I put in a low bid of $80, and set my alarm for 5 am. I had pretty much

finished my coffee, felt alert, and patiently waited for the lot to come up while I watched

the bidding, on line. I had made up my mind I would go as far as $180..or slightly higher.

I had done this once before, successfully, so I felt fairly confident. After your initial bid,

subsequent bids go up in set increments and I knew I could handle a couple counter bids

before we edged up to my limit. The lot came up, remember, I’m starting at $80.

A counter bid comes in. I quickly hit the “bid” button. But wait…it dawns on me that there

is something wrong with the number staring back at me. It doesn’t say my bid is $95

…it says $950. Rather than go through that long, boring process of bidding up,

an on site bidder had put down $900 as a first counter to my $80. Way outside the

estimate. And I had just countered him. I sat in stunned silence…probably for only

mere seconds, but it seemed like an eternity until a final bid of $1000 sailed in.

Seems to me the winner could have gotten away with this for about $800 less.

But don’t ask me, I’m no expert, and I’m sticking to Ebay.

Rumford Lantern clock

Cottone Auctions

As usual, when something catches my eye, I start to do

some research and found many examples of 17th and 18th

century lantern clocks that the little French clock was

said to have been a copy of.

English brass lantern clock, with 6.5″ chapter ring, the floral engraved center

signed Richard Breckell Holmes Fecit, surmounted by triple engraved dolphin frets

and a bell, 15.5″ high

£ 1750

GardinerHoulgate.co.uk

John Walker Fecit

A rare late 17th/early 18th century lantern clock, the 30 hour movement with a charming

early conversion to anchor escapement. It retains its original outside countwheel strike on a

single bell and the brass case has turned pillars and entwined dolphin frets. The exceptional dial is

engraved with foliage and a central Tudor rose and the maker’s name is engraved below XII. The

finely cut single steel hand is probably original and the hoop and spurs are also old.

Raffety & Walwyn Ltd

*

So. I’m dying to know…does anyone else out there have a good auction story?

Pray tell….

]]> http://amphibologista.wordpress.com/2009/11/15/antoine-laurent-lavoisier-and-his-wife/ Sun, 15 Nov 2009 21:34:49 +0000 amphibologista http://amphibologista.wordpress.com/2009/11/15/antoine-laurent-lavoisier-and-his-wife/

Antoine Lavoisier and His Wife, Jacques-Louis David

Here we have a portrait of the “father of modern chemistry” and his wife. It looks to me as if he is rather surprised to look up from his work and discover his wife modeling for the painter. “What? That was today? But I’m right in the middle of — oh, bugger.”

I’m fond of how dorky his leg looks sticking out from behind the tablecloth like that (and you can’t tell me that a chemist is seriously going to have a red velvet tablecloth in his lab).

More than that, when I look at the lines, I am tempted to use words like “harmonious” to describe it, which might make David happy. Check out the way the leg and the crease in the tablecloth are at the same angle, which is answered by the crack (or pattern) in the wall that traces up to the right corner of the picture; the columnar pieces on the walls (there’s probably a technical name for them I’m not familiar with) frame the edges of the painting and provide a strong vertical element that is countered by the horizontal line on the wall and the tabletop and so forth. (How am I doing?)

Also, if I’m not wrong, and for what it’s worth, most of the lines tend to meet up right in the middle of Mme. Lavoisier’s waist (or bustle), which is also highlighted by being about the lightest thing in the room.

I like the expression in Mme. Lavoisier’s face. She looks harmonious too.

Bonus points: quill pens!

My vote: I like it fine and could regard it in person with some fondness for at least a couple of minutes. (Actually, I think I did see this one!)

My guess: thumbs up from michael5000 as well?

Credit: http://www.metmuseum.org

Artist
Jacques-Louis David (French, 1748–1825)

Title
Antoine-Laurent Lavoisier (1743–1794) and His Wife (Marie-Anne-Pierrette Paulze, 1758–1836)

Date
1788

Medium
Oil on canvas

Dimensions
102 1/4 x 76 5/8 in. (259.7 x 194.6 cm)

Credit Line
Purchase, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Wrightsman Gift, in honor of Everett Fahy, 1977

Accession Number
1977.10