… or possible the Welsh Scot? John Pryse Campbell, first Baron Cawdor of Castlemartin (1755–1821) was a member of the famous Scots clan, but two marriages in different generations to the daughters of Welsh landowners had brought their huge estates into his branch of the family. Continue reading
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Devoted readers (ho ho) will recall that one of the things I was NOT going to do
‘She is older than the rocks among which she sits’ is one of those much repeated quotes which really needs a bit of context. Pater’s full paragraph on the subject of the Mona Lisa is positively rococo in its ramblings, and a bit long, but to give you a taste: ‘Hers is the head upon which all “the ends of the world are come”, and the eyelids are a little weary. It is a beauty wrought out from within upon the flesh, the deposit, little cell by cell, of strange thoughts and fantastic reveries and exquisite passions. … All the thoughts and experience of the world have etched and moulded there, in that which they have of power to refine and make expressive the outward form, the animalism of Greece, the lust of Rome, the mysticism of the middle age with its spiritual ambition and imaginative loves, the return of the Pagan world, the sins of the Borgias. She is older than the rocks among which she sits; like the vampire, she has been dead many times, and learned the secrets of the grave; and has been a diver in deep seas, and keeps their fallen day about her; …’ (T
I keep coming across
I
What is an autumn crocus? The easy answer is that it is not in fact a crocus (in the Iridaceae family) but a colchicum (in the Colchicaceae family), Colchicum autumnale to be precise. Needless to say, neither life nor taxonomy is anything like that simple …
Looking something up in the ODNB, it’s terrifyingly easy to get distracted. Who could resist the siren call of this entry heading: ‘Britton, Thomas (1644–1714), concert promoter, book collector, and coal merchant’? And, as you read on, the story of Britton becomes more and more implausible – culminating in a death brought on by his apparently hearing the Voice of God.
I have been reading Julian Barnes’s
There we were, on a surprisingly (well, we were surprised) misty morning, sitting on our balcony, from which you can usually see the campanile of San Marco (now in the mist), eating our breakfast pastries, when the
When I wrote a valedictory piece in