Thurifer
A degree of schoolboy amusement was to be had considering a list of Habsburg emperors. Werner the Pious, Albert the Rich, Rudolf the Kind, Albert the Wise were fairly staid but were followed by Rudolf the Tight Lipped, Albert the One-Eyed and the sinister John the Parricide. He was followed more hopefully by Frederick the Fair (whether a physical or moral quality is uncertain). Albert the Lame (a physical description or a judgement of his reign?). Albert the Pig-Faced, speaks for itself. William the Courteous, Leopold the Fat, Ernest the Iron, Frederick of the Empty Pockets, Philip the Handsome, and the unfortunate Charles the Bewitched bringing the series to an end in 1700. The last Emperor Regnant, Karl, received a soubriquet to outdo all his predecessors. After his deposition and death, he was numbered among the Beatified.
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The annual commemoration of King Charles the Martyr was again held amidst the Butterfield glories of All Saints’ Margaret Street. Solemn High Mass was celebrated, relics were venerated. Since the pandemic the Banqueting House in Whitehall has restricted access for the general public, only available for private (corporate?) hire and guided tours on specific dates, which seem few. Only one day a month are advertised on an unhelpful, sparse web-site. The Society of King Charles the Martyr has had ‘increasing difficulty in communicating with Historic Royal Palaces’. The Society asks ‘if anyone has any information or contact that might be helpful’ to restore the Commemoration to its ‘rightful home’ to be in touch. See the website for addresses. Perhaps the Royal Martyr’s namesake and descendant, now gloriously reigning, might be contacted by his loyal subjects.
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The sermon was preached by the Rev’d Nichols Johnson, the Vicar of St John, Tuebrook, who came to one glittering church from another. S. John’s is one of Bodley’s finest, and also has work by Comper and Stephen Dykes-Bower: quite a trinity. Consecrated in 1871 following a year’s delay (the Bishop of Chester objected to the reredos and two stained glass windows). When it became part of the newly-created diocese of Liverpool, St John’s had to contend with protestant bishops, Ryle and the ‘incredibly mean-spirited’ Chavasse. There were two notable, long incumbencies: Fr Ralph Brockman (1896-1925) and surpassed by Canon Frank Sampson (1946-1994, dying in office). Among his curates were Fr David Diamond, died 1992, and Fr David Hope.
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The National Portrait Gallery has been closed for some time, some three years, for a major reconfiguration of the interior to allow easier access and to permit better movement through the galleries. There is also to be a new entrance hall but no additional exhibition space. That some of the closure coincided with the restrictions of public movement and access in the wake of the pandemic is fortunate. Other institutions have managed a partial closure and allowed some, albeit restricted access to collections but not here. Given the level of public funding which such institutions rightly have, it is odd that there seemed to be no such provision. The re-opening date: 22 June this year.
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The Sainsbury Wing of the National Gallery is scheduled for renovation. Some, like me, may remember that it replaced a previous architectural design that King Charles, then Prince of Wales scornfully dismissed as a ‘monstrous carbuncle on the face of a much-loved and elegant friend’. Not that its replacement seemed much better. You entered a cavernous space, with the shop to the left (now boarded up and the much smaller shop located elsewhere) and an enormous, broad staircase that was grandiose rather than imposing, and where escalators may have been more useful. The new scheme, part of the Galleries 200th anniversary celebrations, seeks to make the space more inviting. When last there the main galleries were crowded and in many were groups of schoolchildren, primary and secondary, sitting cross-legged before paintings which were being explained to them. Milling around were large numbers. Galleries off the main thoroughfare were less crowded but the atmosphere was not conducive to quiet, individual contemplation.
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To see David Duckham run so swiftly and gracefully, swerving, dummying to left and right, heading for the try line was one of the glories of English Rugby Football. His death in January rekindled those memories. He played in what was a golden age (certainly compared with the dour fare now offered). He played for the Lions in New Zealand in 1971 and was part of an unsurpassed line of backs: Gareth Edwards and Barry John, John Dawes and Mike Gibson, Gerald Davies, with Duckham as fellow winger, and J. P. R. Williams at full-back.
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As Lent is upon us, it brings to mind an exchange of some years ago. A pious young man asked, ‘What are you giving up for Lent, Father?’ ‘Sex and opera,’ he replied. Abashed but undaunted the pious young man turned to the curate and, hesitatingly, asked, ‘What are your giving up for Lent, Father?’ ‘I prefer to do something additional in Lent. I am taking up what Father is giving up’.