Portrait of a Gentleman

Portrait of a Gentleman c.1805
Sir Thomas Lawrence 1769-1830
Oil on Canvas 24 x 20 inches; 61 x 50.8 cm
Provenance: Marguerite Singer Smith, Connecticut, USA
© Philip Mould Fine Paintings

SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE "is known today as the last of the great English portraitists. He was a child prodigy who not only became the leading English artist of his age, but also one of the most renowned in Europe. His depiction of the Regency generation, in all its gauche excessiveness, remains a dazzling highlight of English art compared to the sober veneration of his Victorian followers. His death in 1830, the same year as that of George IV, coincided with society’s recoil from the ‘vulgarity’ of the late Georgian era, and its transformation, with hallowed austerity, into the earnest gloom of Victorians. And so the patrons of Lawrence’s successors began to demand portraits befitting the builders of a new empire; out went the swirling dramatism of Lawrence, and in came uprightness, black coats, and beards." More here.

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The Lord's Day

Set a high value upon the word of God. All that is necessary to make you wise to salvation is there, and there only. In this precious book you may find a direction for every doubt, a solution of every difficulty, a promise suited to every circumstance you can be in. There you may be informed of your disease by sin, and the remedy provided by grace. You may be instructed to know yourselves, to know God and Jesus Christ, in the knowledge of whom standeth eternal life. The wonders of redeeming love, the glories of the Redeemer's person, the happiness of the redeemed people, the power of faith, and the beauty of holiness, are here represented to the life. Nothing is wanting to make life useful and comfortable, death safe and desirable, and to bring down something of heaven upon earth. This true wisdom can be found nowhere else.

— Revd. John Newton, author of 'Amazing Grace', (1725-1807)

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Georgivs V, Rex Imperator

His reign will be remembered always in history because of the [First] World War and all the agony it caused. During that time the King played his part with a courage and sympathy which were recognised somehow by the whole people. Many crowns fell into the dust, many kings departed, but when peace came King George stood on his balcony and looked down on vast cheering crowds among whom were many of his soldiers, and he knew that he held the loyalty of his folk...

He holds it because of certain qualities of character which we like to think are very English - in simplicity, in honesty, in sense of duty, and, perhaps one may add, in sense of humour.

An excerpt from the book entitled: "The Book of The King's Jubilee", Edited by: Sir Philip Gibbs, KBE. Published by: Hutchison & Co. Ltd. London 1935.

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An Ordinary Sort of Fellow

The Father King at Balmoral with sons Edward, George and Henry. Randolph Churchill claimed that George V was a strict father, to the extent that his children were terrified of him. The King was apparently quoted as saying: "My father was frightened of his mother, I was frightened of my father, and I am damned well going to see to it that my children are frightened of me."

The King-Emperor was a rather stern, dull and conventional figure who abided by the moral strictures of his time; he did not partake in the wine and womanizing ways of his father, he preferred collecting stamps. He preferred the simple, almost quiet, life in marked contrast to his parents. Even his official biographer despaired, writing: "He may be all right as a young midshipman and a wise old king, but when he was Duke of York ... he did nothing at all but shoot animals and stick in stamps."

During the Great War when H. G. Wells wrote about Britain's "alien and uninspiring court", George famously replied: "I may be uninspiring, but I'll be damned if I'm alien." He would do whatever was required, including changing the family name to Windsor. Dull and dutiful to the end, he had the ideal disposition for a wartime King, which would prove to be the steady hand that guided Britain from the brink, while other European crowns fell into the dust.

Judging by the long success of our current Queen, boring is a blessing for monarchs, for kings there is a kind of virtue in being dull. By the silver jubilee of his reign in 1935, George V had become a well-loved king, saying in response to the crowd's adulation, "I cannot understand it, after all I am only a very ordinary sort of fellow."

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Sir Matthew Wallace, Bt.

If a gentleman were to be knighted by the Queen today, the most you would expect to see at the investiture ceremony would be a top hat and tails. A century ago, dressing the part would have meant bicorn, breeches and buckled shoes, since merely dressing up as an Edwardian during the Edwardian era would have treated a knighthood as if it were just another night on the town.

Sir Matthew Wallace - knighted by George V for his work in the interests of the potato industry.
Which begs the question: what will folks be wearing a hundred years from now when they are told to arise by their King?

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I Am An Old Leftie

George Pitcher of The Daily Telegraph writes in his latest article: "A reception in a garden of Westminster Abbey the other day, under the shadow of the Victoria Tower of The House of Lords, was the unlikely setting for me to be called an unreconstructed old Leftie. I had just expressed some mild-mannered view that I hoped an incoming Government would commit itself properly to the education of our sink-estate underclass. "The trouble with you Lefties," said a young man in the group, amiably enough, "is that you just spout what is politically correct"."

"I don't know that I'm a Leftie. I don't like a big, intrusive State, but I want to be properly taxed for good public services, including education. I believe in personal freedom, but that includes the freedom to think liberal thoughts. I'm against capital punishment, but also vehemently opposed to assisted suicide and euthanasia. I hate religious extremism, but I am, unsurprisingly, pro‑religion."

"I dare say Dave Cameron and his "progressive Conservatives" covet my vote at the forthcoming General Election. Perhaps I'm Mediapolitan Man, or Sussex Git, or Baby Boom Bastard, or some other soubriquet that his focus groups have come up with. But evidently to a breed of invariably young Right-winger, I'm a Leftie if I express a view that isn't entirely on-message with the neo-con creed. And this presents the Cameroons with something of a challenge, I suspect." Continue reading this "politically correct" and quite "Leftie" article here.

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The Decline of Masculine Elegance

King George V worked diligently to restore the formality and discipline that his father had let slide at Court, but after the Great War and the dawn of the Jazz Age, high society was having none of it. Dancing the floor with swinging tails was a feat that only Fred Astair could master, most preferred their more comfortable dinner jacket. Edward VII may have been royal patron of the dinner jacket - the big man did prefer comfort over stuffy tradition - but it was never intended as a replacement to the tailcoat, and was to be worn only at the most private of dinner parties where no reception followed.

It was not Edward VII but the future Edward VIII who, by regularly opting for the dinner jacket over the tailcoat with his aristocratic circle of friends, played the pivotal role in its elevation to standard evening wear. Thus the formerly de rigueur tailcoat ensemble became relegated to extremely formal functions while the previously informal dinner jacket which had been considered too vulgar for female sensibilities was promoted to standard evening attire.

A Parisienne with such sensibilities and with a good many thoughts on this wrote in Vogue magazine way back in 1922 to impart that men are dressing worse, not better, and the substitution of the dinner jacket (read: "Tuxedo") for the tailcoat is an example of the slovenliness to come.

"You are entirely wrong in imagining that we pay no attention to the way men dress...The truth is that while we may say nothing, we do not in the least consent, and we find, messieurs, that for some time now you have been very much changed, and for the worse."

The slovenliness came alright. We can all blame the dinner jacket for that and the long decline in male elegance.

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O God, Our Help in Ages Past

A little Sunday morning inspiration for you, courtesy of Padre Benton

On Sunday morning, August 10, (1941) Mr Roosevelt came aboard H.M.S. Prince of Wales and, with his Staff officers and several hundred representatives of all ranks of the United States Navy and Marines, attended Divine Service on the quarterdeck. This service was felt by all of us to be a deeply moving expression of the unity of faith of our two peoples, and none who took part in it will forget the spectacle presented that sunlit morning on the crowded quarterdeck...... the American and British chaplains sharing in the reading of the prayers.. I chose the hymns myself.

We ended with "O God, Our Help in Ages Past" which Macaulay reminds us the Ironsides had chanted as they bore John Hampden's body to the grave. Every word seemed to stir the heart. It was a great hour to live. Nearly half those who sang were soon to die.

- From The Second World War by Winston Churchill Volume III page 345.

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Oh, how far thou art fallen

So much unrighteousness in a land! Error so wanton and unrestricted! Infamy so exalted and universal… It was once remarked that Britain, alone of nearly all nations, had for centuries been blessed not to see the campfires of an enemy army upon its shores. But I am afraid that almost every night, Britons huddle by their television sets, and in their light see just as much the glowing announcement of dreadful peril to come. The horizons of our very rooms smoulder with reports of advancing enemies, missives of conquerors, manifestoes of tyrants. The only thing that does not hold true, is that they are not often foreign, not anymore. It is instead our establishment, preaching disestablishment - the powers that be, loosing anarchy. The news is desperate, and regular, in this vein. I suppose it is so across all of the English-speaking nations - the whole world, even. But it seems worse here.

It has happened again most notably, just a few days past, with the Scottish Executive releasing the Lockerbie mass murderer - a man responsible for one of history’s most prolific dynamite outrages, accomplished in the air above a quiet Scotch town.

Whilst one of Scotia’s fair kings had Mr Fawkes and his conspirators hung, drawn and quartered, so heavily was felt their heavy wickedness, one of modern Scotland’s Arbitrary Democrats (ruling by divine right of the aggregate of those who can be bothered to vote) had other ideas. “The Scots are a compassionate people. We are different. We are better.” So they released him. He had served 11.56 days per victim slain. There were over 250 such souls he drowned in flame and fire in the heavens. He expressed, and expresses, no sorrow - no remorse.

And so Scotland died something of a death earlier this week. Or rather, the corpse, which one suspects has been decomposing some time, had at last more than just its ankle coyly displayed to the world. She was rumoured to be and has become a monster. Everything vital in her is evidently gangrenous; and honest men must be in a terrible division of mind. Either we would be well to conduct some engineering experiments as to the viability of pushing this cankered country (with the highest murder rate in Europe, incidentally) out into the north Atlantic, there to drift with whales and Greenland fishermen, the society of whom she could less readily corrupt. Or plans ought to be drawn up, or perhaps recovered from some 18th century archive, for her capture and subjugation.

Reports say that the Saltire of St Andrew was flown in Tripoli to welcome the unrepentant mass murderer home. Every British flag is less, now, for having this newly dirtied symbol as part of it. I do not advise split on the back of it. I advise the judicious repositioning of an aircraft carrier just off the Firth of Forth, and its solemn employment.

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The Fine Old English Gentleman

From a book of 'Old Time Ballads' published circa 1902. This ballad is anonymous and is said to have been modelled upon a still older ditty.

I'll sing you a good old song,
    Made by a good old pate,
Of a fine old English gentleman,
    Who had an old estate;
And who kept up his old mansion
    At a bountiful old rate,
With a good old porter to relieve
    The old poor at his gate--
Like a fine old English gentleman,
    All of the olden time.

His hall so old was hung around
    With pikes, and guns, and bows,
And swords and good old bucklers
    That had stood against old foes;
'Twas there "his worship" sat in state,
    In doublet and trunk hose,
And quaff'd his cup of good old sack
    To warm his good old nose--
Like a fine old English gentleman,
    All of the olden time.


The Fine Old English Gentleman by John Eyre, Royal Society of British Artists

When winter cold brought Christmas old,
    He open'd his house to all;
And though three-score and ten his years,
    He featly led the ball.
Nor was the houseless wanderer
    E'er driven from his hall;
For while he feasted all the great,
    He ne'er forgot the small--
Like a fine old English gentleman,
    All of the olden time.

But time, though sweet, is strong in flight,
    And years roll swiftly by;
And autumn's falling leaves proclaim'd
    The old man--he must die!
He laid him down quite tranquilly,
    Gave up his latest sigh;
And mournful stillness reign'd around,
    And tears bedew'd each eye--
For this good old English gentleman,
    All of the olden time.

Now, surely this is better far
    Than all the new parade
Of theatres and fancy balls,
    "At home" and masquerade!
And much more economical,
    For all his bills were paid.
Then leave your new vagaries quite,
    And take up the old trade--
Of a fine old English gentleman,
    All of the olden time.

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Kipling and the King

We wrote in this space last Christmas the generational bond between the Master and His Majesty, how in 1932, ten years after this photograph was taken, Rudyard Kipling would poignantly write the very first Royal Christmas Broadcast for King George V, beginning a tradition that continues to this day.

Photograph taken 11 May 1922 © National Portrait Gallery, London
Born in 1865, both men were the same age and both would coincidentally die at the same time, Kipling on 18 January 1936, the King just two days later. (Kipling's death had in fact previously been incorrectly announced in a magazine, to which he wrote, "I've just read that I am dead. Don't forget to delete me from your list of subscribers.")

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Nine Kings

Pretty near 100 years ago, nine Kings assembled at Buckingham Palace for the funeral of His Imperial Majesty, King Edward VII.

May 1910: From left to right, back row: Haakon VII of Norway, Ferdinand I of Bulgaria, Manuel II of Portugal, Wilhelm II of Germany, George I of Greece and Albert I Of Belgium. Front row: Alphonso XIII of Spain, George V and Frederick VIII of Denmark. The funeral on 20th May was the largest gathering of European royalty – and its last hurrah. Also present at the funeral was Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria, whose assassination four years later would spark the Great War – which collapsed many royal dynasties of Europe. Manuel of Portugal would be driven from his throne by revolutionaries within months of this picture. George of Greece would be assassinated. Alphonso, Wilhelm and Ferdinand would lose their thrones.

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Mr. Bolt not entirely happy until he becomes... a Knight of the Realm

The Jamaican sprinter who is undisputably the fastest man to ever walk this Earth - with world shattering times of 9.58 and 19.19 seconds for the 100 and 200 metres respectively - is feeling a little unfulfilled without some sort of recognition from Her Majesty.

'Sir Usain Bolt'? That would be very nice'.

Yes it would be Mr. Bolt, and with Jamaica being a fully fledged Commonwealth Realm, an appointment to knighthood would be a substantive honour, which means you would be entitled to call yourself 'Sir'. I take it this means you're a monarchist then. Good man.

The need for tweed...

Yeah, mun. A word to the wise though, while we appreciate your enthusiastic endorsement of feathered plumes and titled honours, it is bad form to publicly muse about such things, which will only make it harder for Her Majesty to comply any time soon. So stay low and fast, mun, just remember you're only 22 years old and all good things are worth waiting for. Keep that in mind, and you'll be a Sir in no time!

Hat tip: A Commonwealth Monarchist.

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Join A Conversation

Two Billion People. Fifty-Three Countries. Join One Conversation.

"The Commonwealth was born sixty years ago in 1949. Encompassing 30% of the world's population (over half of which are young people aged 25 or under), The Commonwealth's true potential lies in its continued relevance to its citizens. With this in mind, The Royal Commonwealth Society (founded 1868), is facilitating a consultation on the future of The Commonwealth. This is The Commonwealth Conversation. Your chance to have your say - your chance to shape the future of Commonwealth."

"When the modern Commonwealth was born, its founding fathers took some brave decisions. From the ashes of Empire rose an association of free and equal members committed to democracy, development and diversity. Since its remarkable beginnings, The Commonwealth has achieved much of which it can be rightfully proud. Today, this unique global Family (of 53 member states) works to promote good governance, respect for human rights and the rule of law - as well as sustainable environmental, economic and social development. The Commonwealth's member nations are characterised by an astonishing diversity. Yet, despite this amazing diversity, all Commonwealth members are united by certain agreed common values and principles. A common heritage and language. They also share similar systems of law, public administration and education. As voluntary members of the association, The Commonwealth's members all work together in cooperation, partnership and understanding."

The Commonwealth Conversation therefore seeks to gather the opinions of individuals and also organisations from right across the world, in order:
* To identify key issues of concern on which to focus.
* To re-vitalise The Commonwealth for a new generation.
* To present full recommendations to Commonwealth leaders.
* To raise awareness about what The Commonwealth is and does.

"The results of The Commonwealth Conversation are now being awaited by Governments, The Commonwealth Secretariat, policy makers, charities and business leaders. This is your chance to be heard. Join The Conversation."

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The Comfort of Queen and Country

Karen Upton, the widow of Warrant Officer Sean Upton of 5th Regiment Royal Artillery, is presented with the first Elizabeth Cross by Her Majesty's Lord-Lieutenant of North Yorkshire, The Lord Crathorne, before her husband's funeral at Catterick Garrison in North Yorkshire, 18 August 2009. Son Ewan Upton and daughter Hollie Upton also partake in the presentation that preceded the military funeral service of their father.

The first medal awarded to the next of kin of servicemen killed in the line of duty was worn with pride by widow Karen Upton yesterday. She was presented with the Elizabeth Cross minutes before the funeral of her husband, Sergeant Major Sean Upton, 35, who was killed by a bomb in Afghanistan.

“I will wear this Elizabeth Cross in his honour with pride and will treasure it always, “ said the 32-year-old mother of two. “It is an absolute honour to receive the very first Elizabeth Cross in Her Majesty’s name and comforting to feel the support of Queen and country."

But it was in the simple words of a 10-year-old boy, grieving for the father whose life was snatched away far from home by a Taliban bomb, that the true nature of sacrifice was laid bare yesterday. Sean's son Ewan had written a heartbreaking poem in tribute to the dad he worshipped. It read:

My dad Sean, he was a hero

He was just like Rambo

He was the best, he beat the rest

But now he's gone, where is he?

Our dad, he's in our chest

We love you dad, we will never forget

You're a hero, you're the best.

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The Problem with Victorian Morality

Hardly fair is it - two to one. The caption "An Absolute Dummy" is clearly illustrative of the monocled gentleman's passive stance (is he dithering or just shy?) when the gorgeous and demure ladies by his side are making eyes at him and hoping he would make his move. In the end sketch he appears to have missed the boat and looks a proper Charlie when the two ladies walk out on him. I daresay that was the downside to Victorian morality, it made a good man go stiff in a bad way.

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Old Bertie

His Imperial Majesty The King-Emperor

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The Country Gentleman

Back in the 1920s and 1930s, I would have gladly paid the five cents! to subscribe to this magazine.

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The Lord's Day

That Christ should come from the eternal bosom of his Father to a region of sorrow and death; that God should be manifested in the flesh, the Creator made a creature; that he that was clothed with glory should be wrapped with rags of flesh; he that filled heaven and earth with his glory should be cradled in a manger; that the power of God should fly from weak man, the God of Israel into Egypt; that the God of the law should be subject to the law, the God of the circumcision circumcised, the God that made the heavens working at Joseph’s homely trade; that he that binds the devils in chains should be tempted; that he, whose is the world, and the fullness thereof, should hunger and thirst; that the God of strength should be weary, the Judge of all flesh condemned, the God of life put to death; that he that is one with his Father should cry out of misery, ‘My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me?’ (Matt. 27. 46); that he that had the keys of hell and death at his girdle should lie imprisoned in the sepulchre of another, having in his lifetime nowhere to lay his head, nor after death to lay his body; that that head, before which the angels do cast down their crowns, should be crowned with thorns, and those eyes, purer than the sun, put out by the darkness of death; those ears, which hear nothing but hallelujahs of saints and angels, to hear the blasphemies of the multitude; that face, that was fairer than the sons of men, to be spit on by those beastly wretched Jews; that mouth and tongue, that spake as never man spake, accused for blasphemy; those hands, that freely swayed the sceptre of heaven, nailed to the cross; those feet, ‘like unto fine brass,’ nailed to the cross for man’s sins; each sense annoyed: his feeling or touching, with a spear and nails; his smell, with stinking flavour, being crucified about Golgotha, the place of skulls; his taste, with vinegar and gall; his hearing, with reproaches, and sight of his mother and disciples bemoaning him; his soul, comfortless and forsaken; and all this for those very sins that Satan paints and puts fine colours upon!
Oh! how should the consideration of this stir up the soul against it, and work the soul to fly from it, and to use all holy means whereby sin may be subdued and destroyed!

— Thomas Brooks, 1608-1680

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India Independence and Partition

Every August 15, India celebrates her independence. It was on August 15, 1947 India received her independence, and India was also partitioned at the time into Pakistan and present day India. Pakistan consisted of two parts. East Pakistan later became Bangladesh. King George VI held the title of King of India until the early days of 1950, whereas Queen Elizabeth II held the title of Queen of Pakistan until 1956, inheriting the sovereign title from her father George VI.

There was no Coronation Durbar for George VI. Nor was there one for Edward VII – needless to say. There was one in 1903, and one in 1911, however.

It was on George V's coronational visit to India the move of the capital from Calcutta to Delhi, eventually creating New Delhi as the thus far last city within the city of cities, Delhi.

Yours truly has paid two visits to the Coronation Park in Delhi. The first one was in August 2005. The Daily Telegraph reported later that same year that the park was to be refurbished.

Yours truly's second visit was in November of 2008, about two weeks before the Bombay attacks (yes, it's Bombay – and it's Trondhjem, not Trondheim, for that matter). That second visit was a far cry from the first. The first visit was a visit to an abandoned place, where a few locals were sitting waiting for tourists to “guide,” whereas the area was a bit crowded during the November 2008 visit, as the video shows.

Yours truly could not see much renovation from his first to his second time. There was no need for grass to be taken care of the second time though. Also, they sure have taken it into use. There was some bad language written on one of the pedestals. So taking it into use is not necessarily a positive change. The reader is spared the photo of the bad language.

Yours truly was – when taking photos – sarcastically asked by some children if he [George V] was his grandfather. One can imagine the propaganda fed to these kids by teachers and their family elders.

As we can see, there is some potential for a more well kept park.

Perhaps putting the Coronation Park in order really will take off up to the Commonwealth Games in Delhi in 2010? There is a huge construction project going on for expansion of the Delhi metro system. This may make the Coronation Park a more accessible attraction, and it may help to bring it into the light.

We must, however, remember that the statue of George V stood at India Gate until the 1960s. Now it is stowed away.

Time will tell if India can come to terms with her British heritage.

An exhibition yours truly visited at the Supreme Court Museum – The Trial of Bhagat Singh – suggested that there is a long way to go.

There are no photos from the exhibition itself, as photography in the museum is strictly prohibited.

Here is some of what the exhibition said:

Only after India gained independence, it was subjected to the rule of law in a modern sense. A new Constitution was put in place that combined the principles of liberal democracy with socialist aspirations of general equality and welfare. Indeed, the use of constitutional law was intended to reach a wide societal compromise.

Today, we take our freedom for granted only because it is our fundamental right protected by our Constitution. We are free, because our judicial system led by the Supreme Court of India is the guardian and guarantor of that freedom. In spite of undeniable difficulties, it is clear that it has not failed to serve the nation and that it is precisely the reason why Judiciary in India is held in high esteem. Its integrity being the basis of its power. It relentlessly performs to fulfill the expectations of the society while upholding the rule of law and impartial justice to all.

Also, we could read:

When World War I broke out in Europe, Ghadrites decided to return to India [from Canada and the U.S.] with the object of liberating India from British slavery through armed struggle and to establish a National Government on the basis of equality and justice.

The trial of Bhagat Singh is as much a story of revolution in India as the farcical system of law and justice under the British rule.

And also:

They are ever anxious to devise new forms of treachery. We are eager to see what limits there are to oppression.

It is interesting. It sounds a lot like the Animal Farm attitude. British rule bad, self-rule good. No recognition of any good British heritage in their present system.

If the new regime can always point to the British and the liberation from British rule as freedom, they can perhaps more easily justify the new regime's own actions.

With all the bureaucracy and other interventions that comes from the Indian “self-government,” proving that the new Indian regime is not freedom should not be the hardest task in the world.

Moreover, the way terrorists of the Indian independence movement are glorified, it should come as no surprise that India has problems with terrorists.

The late Erik von Kuehnelt-Leddihn wrote about anti-colonialism in his Leftism Revisited. Not only did he deplore the decline that end of colonial rule often represented, but he also stressed that the end of colonialism took place in an era where republicanism was in high esteem. Not a good combination.

Let us remember that it was Indian independence and republicanism that put an end to the Princes of India.

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The Golden Hawk

The redoubtable impresario of this blog being a navy man, the blog's content leans toward Her Majesty's fleets. To redress this imbalance we present a specimen of the once gloriously named Royal Canadian Air Force. Your eyes do not deceive you. That is an F-86 Sabre, the legendary plane that first saw combat over the skies of the Korean peninsula nearly six decades ago. To celebrate the 100th anniversary of flight in Canada, a restored F-86 will be showcased at the Canadian National Exhibition airshow in Toronto early this September. Details at Canada's military blog of record, The Torch.

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Ah. So it has come to this.

Chivalry has of course long been dead; the revolving door, invented in the 1880s, was by then probably merely urinating on its grave. I mean to say, things have been in a bad shape, for a long time.

But you can defile as well as bury a corpse. This it has now been decided we shall do. From 2012 we shall have female boxing at the Olympics. It was important not merely to knock Woman off her pedestal, but legalise a jolly good bop to her nose too. We must only be thankful that it is, at present, not mixed boxing. That will surely come in 2016 or so. (And in the forcibly dechristianised dens of poor Britain, never properly preached to or educated, I gather vigorous amateur leagues have long been underway, and the (dis)Establishment is by its actions quite happy about this.)

This news has made the frontpage of many a British newspaper today, and I probably would not have commented on it had it not done so. The images have a decided effect on you, whatever your pre-disposition on such issues. I suspect it is for this reason that they and the story made the frontpages; and it shows the good old pith of civilisation is not quite dead in everyone, but sleeps on in our bones, fit to be awoken now and then with dim inarticulate stirrings. (Though how many will voice such unease, give vent to such stirrings?)

The tense, frowning, crouched, gloved, bloody-nosed females, strike, I think, the average subject’s soul very profoundly. The only other desperate women we see, or expect to see, like this, are HM’s prisoners. But this is in the name of the highest physical endeavours and accomplishments of mankind. And so it has come to this. Beloved, astonishing woman - focus of sonnet and serenade - the sacred media of life - to be wooed, won, charmed, and kept devotedly - a lost greatness they somehow still feel in their widespread fiction and film choices, if scarcely in clothing or conduct - can now garner prize money and international medals by fighting in public. Excellent. Please assist all neighbours and passing strangers in administering a universal pat on the back. Aren’t we great?

When will someone call the horror show of the last 100 years off? Please.

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"The Wobbly Eight"

My favourite line of old battleships are the eight predreadnoughts that came into service at the height of the Grand Fleet and the Edwardian era. Led by flagship HMS King Edward VII, there were HMS Britannia (Great Britain), HMS Hibernia (Ireland), HMS Dominion (Canada), HMS Commonwealth (Australia), HMS Hindustan (Empire of India), HMS Africa, and HMS New Zealand.

Ah, the Fraternity-class! Sadly it was not to last as around the time of King Edward's death, the major components of Britain's overseas empire began to assert their own military independence - not because they wanted to but because they were being beggared by Britain to fund their fair share of the security costs. So instead of sending cheques to London to pay for "HMS Canada" or HMS Whatever of the Royal Navy, by 1910 you got in the case of the elder dominion, Laurier's "Tin Pot Navy", which got mercilessly mocked by pro-imperial Canadian Tories.

The dominions may have been going wobbly on imperial defence, but that is not how the King Edward VII and her seven shipworthy sisters earned the sobriquet "The Wobbly Eight". They were nicknamed so during the First World War because they couldn't steer a straight line, which by that time were so outclassed by the new dreadnoughts they were given the inglorious task of steaming at the heads of divisions, where they could protect the far more valuable dreadnoughts by watching for mines or by being the first to strike them. This is how the King Edward VII met her fate in January 1916.

As for the rest of the wobbly eight, HMS Britannia was torpedoed in 1918 and the remainder were sold for scrap in 1921.

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The Glorious Twelfth

For liberty and livelihood! Thousands of grouse shooting gentlemen and their smiling gamekeepers will take to the moors of Scotland and northern England today for the Glorious Twelfth. For the willing and well-disposed - a day of shooting will cost you only about £7,000 - you can experience this rarest of British sporting treats. Recommended reading before you go: Better to kill a fellow gun than wing a beater.

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Colonel Strome Galloway (1915-2004)

A loyal patriot passed away five years ago today. Colonel Galloway was a veteran of the Second World War, a co-founder of the Monarchist League of Canada and a founder member of the Royal Heraldry Society. A proud Canuck and old Britisher to the end, he was perhaps the last of his breed. The following was his obituary at The Telegraph.

Colonel Strome Galloway, who has died aged 88, was a battle-hardened infantry officer, a prolific if unsubtle writer and a co-founder of the Monarchist League of Canada; with his bristling moustache, he was one of the Canadian Army's "characters", noted for legendary coolness under fire as well as for the maintenance of social standards and the care of his men.

Galloway's battlefield initiation had occurred in 1943 when he was sent with other Canadian officers to gain experience with the British First Army in Tunisia. Attached to the 2nd London Irish Rifles, he was commanding a company when his CO saw paratroopers from the Hermann Goering Division advancing on a large farm, and ordered him to seize it.

Rising to his feet, Galloway yelled "Fix bayonets", then roared "Charge" as he led his men across an open field under tracer fire, by which only one man was hit. They found no Germans on reaching the stables and living quarters of "Stuka Farm". But minutes later the enemy was hurling stick grenades through the windows; and for several hours the London Irish occupied one room while the Germans battled with them from next door. When the Germans finally retired, Galloway discovered that, in the chaos of the battle, the Allied leadership was preparing to take the farm again; he judiciously withdrew several hundred yards to the safety of a slit trench containing cactus.

Andrew Strome Ayers Carmichael Galloway was born at Humboldt, Saskatchewan, on November 29 1915. His family later moved to St Thomas, Ontario, where in 1932 he joined the Elgin militia regiment on 50 cents a day. He was commissioned two years later.

In 1936, Galloway published himself his book, The Yew Tree Ballad and Other Poems. It contained, he admitted in later life, "rather rotten poetry". But after paying printing and postage costs he made a profit of $190, which he invested in a trip to Britain for the coronation of King George VI. After a 16-day voyage aboard a foul-smelling cattle boat, young Strome landed to buy a bowler hat and an umbrella. He filed a story to the St Thomas Times-Journal in Ontario about the shouts of "bloody Nazis" and booing in Trafalgar Square at the carriage containing a German field marshal; but soon he ran out of money, and had to work his passage back to Canada.

Galloway worked as a newspaper sub-editor, and enjoyed saluting the King with drawn sword during the Royal tour of the Dominion in 1939 shortly before being called up; he transferred to the RCR shortly before the outbreak of war. After being advised to take a pair of gumboots with him, he was dispatched to Britain in 1940. There he started the practice, which he maintained long after the war, of having his collars laundered in Britain.

On returning to the RCR following his two months with the London Irish, Galloway led his company on to the beaches of Sicily on July 10 1943. While escorting some German prisoners to the rear, he stopped for a moment to chat with another officer when enemy mortar bombs began exploding near the road. As his prisoners dived for cover Galloway laid into them with his stick shouting: "Get out of that ditch, you bastards - they're your mortars."

In December 1943 the Royal Canadian Regiment was engaged in the costly advance from the Moro River in Italy to the coastal town of Ortona. As they launched two companies in an attack a mile southwest of the port, the artillery barrage which preceded it began falling, due to faulty maps, on a flanking battalion. The guns then ceased firing, and the advancing RCR found themselves face to face with entrenched enemy paratroopers whom the barrage had left unscathed. Murderous cross-fire cost them all their officers. Galloway took over command.

Throughout the following night, with its strength reduced to 178 officers and men, the regiment held its position under mortar fire and sniping. Then, bringing forward every man who could be spared from his support platoons, Galloway formed three companies of 65 men each, who advanced the next day behind an intense barrage to find the opposing German 1st Parchute Regiment had withdrawn back into Ortona.

From his arrival in Italy until the end of the war, Galloway took part in 25 of the 27 actions in Italy and northwest Europe for which his regiment was awarded battle honours, commanding it for short periods at Ortona, in the Gothic Line battles and during the winter fighting west of Ravenna. Although wounded at Motta Montecorvino in September 1943, he was away from the battalion for only five weeks.

With the return of peace, he served in various staff and instructional appointments, being promoted to lieutenant-colonel in 1951 to instruct at the staff college at Kingston, Ontario. He took command of the newly formed 4th Battalion, Canadian Guards; then, having attended the National Defence College, he commanded the winter warfare establishment at Fort Churchill, and became military attaché in Bonn.

After retiring, full of disgust at the ill-advised unification of the Armed Forces, Galloway was for 10 years the Honorary Lieutenant-Colonel of the Governor-General's Foot Guards; in 1989, he was appointed Colonel of the Royal Canadian Regiment.

When Pierre Trudeau barely disguised his republican inclinations in proposals for a new Canadian constitution in late 1969, Galloway became a founder member of the Monarchist League of Canada. He then played a leading part in helping to destroy the attempt to reduce the Queen's importance by transferring her powers to the Governor-General.

Galloway produced nine books, including an autobiography, The General Who Never Was, in which he drew on his diaries to recount his experiences in camp and battle. Although these were hardly classic tales, they contained a wealth of detail, recounting some of the less well-known aspects of soldiering, such as the punishment of officers found in the men's brothels in North Africa, the Arabs' preference for payment in tea rather than money, and the problems involved in writing citations for medals.

In the 1972 general election, he ran unsuccessfully against John Turner, the future Prime Minister, and was amusedly conscious of cutting an absurd figure in progressive eyes. Yet Galloway was an able speaker. Despite his romantic nature, he was also a realist in dealing with contemporary issues, even willing to use the language of public relations.

Strome Galloway died on August 11. He married, in 1950, Jean Love, a journalist, who predeceased him, and is survived by their two daughters.

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In Memoriam, Lord Alfred Tennyson

The 200th anniversary of Lord Tennyson's birth (1809-1892) came and went on the 6th of August. Tennyson was a favourite of Queen Victoria, who found his penning of one of the greatest poem's of the 19th century a source of solace after the death of Prince Albert in 1861: "Next to the Bible, In Memoriam is my comfort." Queen Victoria made him the Poet Laureate following the death of Wordsworth.

Tennyson in 1862 with his wife Emily (1813-1896) and his sons Lionel (1854-1886) and Hallam (1852-1928), who later became the 2nd Governor-General of Australia.
Tennyson wrote a number of phrases that have become commonplaces of the English language, including: "Nature, red in tooth and claw", "'Tis better to have loved and lost / Than never to have loved at all", "Theirs not to reason why, / Theirs but to do and die", "My strength is as the strength of ten, / Because my heart is pure", "Knowledge comes, but Wisdom lingers", and "The old order changeth, yielding place to new". He is the second most frequently quoted writer in The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, after Shakespeare.

My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.
Lord Tennyson is buried at Poets Corner in Westminster Abbey. Go there to read more of his works.

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The King and Mr. Pitt

If it were up to me, prime ministers would still yield to their king in a manner bordering on extreme deference. Bowing, scraping and stooping before majesty was not a form of indignity and personal debasement, but of respect for authority. It was not to prostrate oneself before a mere man, but what the man represented, which was and still is the sovereign embodiment of the people. When a prime minister bows before a king, he bows before all of us. It is a humbling act, a way to descend the politician from his superior position such that he never condescends above the people.

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In Memory of H.M.C.S. Regina

H.M.C.S. Regina was torpedoed 65 years ago today on 8 August 1944.

Her Majesty's Canadian Ship Regina, the Halifax-class frigate in which I served for three years, is named after Regina, the capital city of the Province of Saskatchewan. "The Queen City", as Regina is affectionately known, was named in 1882 after Queen Victoria, i.e. Victoria Regina, by her daughter Princess Louise, wife of the then-Governor General the Marquess of Lorne.

Today's modern warship is the second vessel to carry the designation HMCS Regina. The first was a Royal Canadian Navy Flower-class corvette, which took part in convoy escort duties during the Battle of the Atlantic. On 8 August 1944, Regina was torpedoed and sunk by U-667 eight nautical miles off the coast of Cornwall, while rescuing survivors of the American merchant Ezra Weston. The warship sank in 28 seconds.


Although 30 crew members were killed (mostly engineers and stokers who drowned), because the depth charges on Regina had been set to “safe,” (thanks to a quick thinking sailor) many lives were saved and 66 survivors lived to tell their story. This was fortunate since explosions of depth charges from sinking ships usually killed many sailors who survived the initial attack on their ships.


The U-boat that sank her struck a mine and went down with all hands just days after sinking the Regina. I personally came into contact with some of the old Regina's survivors in 1994 at the commissioning ceremony of the new Regina, and heard firsthand the details of their grim story. Their memory is kept alive in the Battle Honours of the current HMCS Regina.


Floreat Regina!

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Arise Ye Good Knights of New Zealand!

I burn with envy. The rest of us are damsels in distress compared to Kiwi Knights and their reinstated Royal Honours System, what Rafal Heydel-Mankoo, Editor of Burke's Peerage and Gentry, confided to me as being the "most finely crafted honours system in the Commonwealth" outside of the United Kingdom.

Queen Elizabeth II confered the honour of Knighthood to Sir Donald McKinnon inside Buckingham Palace, 9 July 2009. Sir Donald served as Commonwealth Secretary General for eight years from 2000-2008, following a 21-year career in New Zealand politics, during which he held a number of senior posts including that of Deputy Prime Minister.

Government House in New Zealand has recently announced 70 new Knights and Dames as a result of the government's reinstatement of titular honours. Among those who received the equivalent of titular honours since they were abolished by the Labour government in 2000, fully 87 percent accepted the title of Sir or Dame, putting former Prime Minister Helen Clark's repulsion of honourific rank firmly in the minority.

Carpet knights they may be, but chivalry is alive and well in New Zealand!

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The Blues and Royals

Troops from The Blues and Royals of the Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment and their horses enjoy a break from their crimson armour and their ceremonial duties on Holkham Beach, Norfolk, 3 August 2009.

The Blues and Royals (Royal Horse Guards and 1st Dragoons) is a cavalry regiment of the British Army, part of the Household Cavalry. The Colonel-in-Chief is Her Majesty The Queen and the Colonel is HRH The Princess Royal. Both HRH Prince William of Wales and HRH Prince Harry of Wales joined the regiment as cornets in 2006.

The regiment was formed in 1969 from the merger of The Royal Horse Guards, which was known as "The Oxford Blues", and The Royal Dragoons, which was known as "The Royals". The Blues and Royals can trace their lineage all the way back to the New Model Army. The regiment is nicknamed The Tin Bellies, which is a good humoured reference to the fact that they are the only troops wearing armour in the Queen's service.

Photo © Press Association

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The Princess Royal at H.M.S. Collingwood

What we in the Navy call a "stone frigate", not a warship, but a commissioned shore establishment that trains young sailors. The last such vessel to be called HMS Collingwood was a Dreadnaught battleship that saw action at Jutland.

The Princess Royal inspects the guard of honour during a visit to HMS Collingwood in Fareham, Hampshire, to attend the Maritime Warfare School's Annual Ceremonial Divisions, 31 July 2009.

Photo © HMS Collingwood

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The Old "Mutt and Jeff"

The British War Medal and Victory Medal, the pair of First World War campaign medals colloquially known as the "Mutt and Jeff", can only be rightfully worn by two living individuals now: a 109 year-old Canadian by the name of John Babcock, and 108 year-old British Australian navy veteran Claude Choules. In total, some 6,500,000 medals were awarded to British, Imperial and Allied Forces who served in the Great War.

A great uncle of mine who fought with the 2nd Canadian Mounted Rifles at Vimy, Passchendaele and Amiens, and who was killed on August 10, 1918, earned his Mutt and Jeff. Unfortunately his medals melted when the family house burned down in the 1950s. In the 1990s I appealed to the Canadian government for replacement medals, but was turned down due to the fact that I was not considered "immediate family". The mother and father had died in the 1920s and his sister, my grandmother, died in 1981. It appeared I was out of luck until I discovered that immediate family could also be interpreted as a direct nephew or niece, one of which, though in his 90s, was still very much alive! And so I applied again in the name of my uncle, and was duly granted on his behalf, the old Mutt and Jeff.

In memory of Private James Ramsay McNeil, a soldier of the Great War.

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1st The Queen's Dragoon Guards

The Regiment is celebrating their 50th Anniversary this year

Although the senior cavalry regiment of the British Army officially turned 50 this year, it is actually much, much older than that. It's formation in 1959 was but an amalgamation of the 1st King's Dragoon Guards and the Queen's Bays (2nd Dragoon Guards), both of which were raised in 1685 by James II of England in reaction to the Monmouth Rebellion. Its most notable Battle Honours are Blenheim, Waterloo, Tobruk and El Alamein.

Nicknamed The Welsh Cavalry, the regiment recruits from Wales as well as the bordering English counties. The regiment's cap badge is the Habsburg double headed eagle, which Emperor Franz Joseph of Austria allowed the 1st King’s Dragoon Guards to wear when he become their Colonel-in-Chief in 1896. The current Colonel-in-Chief is naturally Prince Charles, the Prince of Wales.

The Prince of Wales, in his role as Colonel-in-Chief of 1st The Queen's Dragoon Guards, inspects the ranks at Cardiff Castle where the regiment celebrated its 50th anniversary, 31 July 2009. Pro rege et patria!

Photo © Press Association

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The Devil's Brigade

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The "Canadian Kipling"

Robert W. Service (1874-1958) - English born Canadian Poet called the "Bard of the Yukon" for his rollicking ballads of the frozen North.

Robert W. Service, c.1905
He arrived well after the Klondike era and the height of the Gold Rush, but was inspired all the same to publish vividly pseudo-personal accounts of that history, such as his most notable piece, The Cremation of Sam McGee, which made him a wealthy man. The following is from his autobiography and tells what inspired him to write it:

One evening I was at a loose end, so I thought I’d call on a girl friend. When I arrived at the house I found a party in progress. I would have backed out, but was pressed to join the festive band. As an uninvited guest I consented to nibble a nut. Peeved at my position, I was staring gloomily at a fat fellow across the table. He was a big mining man from Dawson and he scarcely acknowledged his introduction to a little bank clerk. Portly and important, he was smoking a big cigar with gilt band. Suddenly he said: I'll tell you a story Jack London never got." Then he spun a yarn of a man who cremated his pal. It had a surprise climax which occasioned much laughter. I did not join, for remember how a great excitement usurped me. Here was a perfect ballad subject. The fat man who ignored me went his way to bankruptcy, but he had pointed me the road to fortune.

A prey to feverish impatience, I excused myself and took my leave. It was one of those nights of brilliant moonlight that almost goad me to madness. I took the woodland trail, my mind seething with excitement and a strange ecstasy. As I started in: There are strange things done in the midnight sun, verse after verse developed with scarce a check. As I clinched my rhymes I tucked the finished stanza away in my head and tackled; the next. For six hours I tramped those silver glades, and when I rolled happily into bed my ballad was cinched. Next day, with scarcely any effort of memory I put it on paper. Word and rhyme came eagerly to heel. My moonlight improvisation was secure and, though I did not know it, "McGee was to be the keystone of my success.

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