A Rebel (Beheaded) and A Heretic (Burned)

On April 11, 1554, Thomas Wyatt the Younger was executed on Tower Hill for leading his eponymous rebellion against Mary I. I have to post on this event for two reasons: using the word eponymous and using this great profile portrait.

The Wyatt Rebellion, as this site notes, failed completely:

The plan itself involved too many ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ if it was to succeed. The noble conspirators planned to remove Mary, instate Elizabeth as Queen and arrange for her to marry Edward Courtenay – a man Mary had already rejected as a husband. [It sounds like the Gunpowder Plot!]

The plan was for three rebellions to take place in separate parts of the country. They would occur at the same time – in the Midlands, the West Country and Kent. The plan was that the government would not know which one to put down first and each would blossom as a result of their localised success and attract more and more supporters among the common people.

The French Navy would blockade the English Channel with eighty ships so that the Habsburgs would not be able to help Mary.

The plan failed miserably. The Imperial Ambassador, Simon Renard, had heard rumours that such a plot existed and informed the Lord Chancellor, Stephen Gardner [sic], of his concerns. Gardner brought in Courtenay for questioning as Renard had mentioned his name. The records stated that Gardner’s questioning was ‘robust’ and Courtenay was not a man who could stand up to this. Edward Courtenay told Gardner all that he knew about the plot so that the government knew about the plot even before it had begun – even if Courtenay would not have known about the details.

The ‘uprisings’ in the Midlands and the West Country were a failure as few of the people there gave Carew and the Duke of Suffolk the support they needed for success. It seems that though there was concern about Mary marrying a foreigner, loyalty to the Queen took precedence. Those in the Midlands did not want to commit treason (Suffolk raised a force of just 140 men) while many in the West were Catholic. . . .

Only two of the leaders were executed for their treason – Wyatt and the Duke of Suffolk. Other minor nobles were also executed but some – guilty of treason – were spared. In total about 90 rebels were executed but many of the common people who had joined Wyatt and survived were spared. Two other casualties were Lady Jane Grey and her husband Guildford Dudley. Both had been in prison since the failed attempt to put Lady Jane on the throne and had nothing to do with Wyatt’s rebellion. However Mary felt that she could no longer risk anyone rallying to Lady Jane’s cause – hence her execution – especially as her father, the Duke of Suffolk, had been involved in this plot and had been executed for treason.

I find it interesting that the website does not mention that Queen Mary had rallied her people to defend her and their city. Even John Foxe, who had no reason to present Mary in a good light, recounted her bravery, her devotion, and her resolve in her speech at Guildhall:

I am your Queen, to whom at my coronation, when I was wedded to the realm and laws of the same (the spousal ring whereof I have on my finger, which never hitherto was, not hereafter shall be, left off), you promised your allegiance and obedience to me…. And I say to you, on the word of a Prince, I cannot tell how naturally the mother loveth the child, for I was never the mother of any; but certainly, if a Prince and Governor may as naturally and earnestly love her subjects as the mother doth love the child, then assure yourselves that I, being your lady and mistress, do as earnestly and tenderly love and favour you. And I, thus loving you, cannot but think that ye as heartily and faithfully love me; and then I doubt not but we shall give these rebels a short and speedy overthrow.

The other execution on April 11, 1612. It was the last execution for heresy in England, during the reign of James I. Edward Wightman was actually burned at the stake twice:

Wightman seems to have denied the doctrine of the Trinity, denied that Jesus Christ was God, denied the Resurrection and the legitimacy of Holy Communion and maintained that he himself was both the Holy Spirit and, though not himself divine, the Messiah appointed by God as the saviour of the world. From a modern perspective it seems clear that he had gone completely insane.

Wightman was eventually put on trial in the diocesan court in Lichfield, which in December pronounced him guilty of blasphemy and of promoting the heresies of figures ranging from Simon Magus to the Arians, the Manicheans and the Anabaptists. He was sent to the stake in the square in Lichfield in March 1612. When the flames began to scorch him he cried out in pain and it was thought he wanted to recant. Some of the crowd of spectators rushed to rescue him, though getting burned themselves. He was taken back to prison to recover, but when he was brought before the court again he refused to sign a formal recantation and on Easter Saturday in April he was sent back to the stake and was this time burned to death.

I believe the author of that post is incorrect about the date of Easter Sunday in 1612 on the Julian Calendar. It was not April 11 but April 12 (at least according to this site and this one too).

Another Subscriber-Only Project

On Monday, the Feast of the Annunciation, I participated in my first Skype interview with Simon Rafe of Church Militant on the subject of the English Reformation (Deformation). I was in good company, as Nancy Bilyeau and Father John Vidmar, OP are also interviewed on the show. It's live now on the Church Militant website.

Nancy Bilyeau talks about the Dissolution of the Monasteries; Father Vidmar about the choices facing Catholics in England; I discuss the Whig tradition of English history and highlight the revisionist authors like Duffy, Haigh, Scarisbrick, etc--and of course, how I summarize and survey their input into the history of the English Reformation in my book.

When Simon and I talked, I did not see his face live in the studio. The producer I talked to before the show and with whom I tested our Skype connection instructed me on how to tilt my laptop screen and where to look so I would be framed up on the "tv" screen. Learning something new all the time!

Evelyn Waugh, RIP--But Brideshead Lives On!

Of course, Evelyn Waugh lives on too, in eternal life, but as we mark the 50th anniversary of his dead in 1966, Harry Mount writes about the ongoing fascination of Brideshead Revisited for The Catholic Herald:

Evelyn Waugh’s life and work still captivate us. It’s not hard to understand why – he is one of the prose stylists of the age, and one of its funniest writers. His comic gift is all the greater for being shot through with pleasing melancholy and joyful malice.

The curious thing is that, of all his books, it’s Brideshead Revisited that enchants the public more than any other. Waugh obsessives, including me, prefer A Handful of Dust – for its macabre chill – or Scoop, for its mixture of comedy and eternal accuracy about the ridiculous side of journalism.

But it is Brideshead that dominates the popular vision of Waugh; Brideshead that was a huge hit in America after it came out in 1945; Brideshead that was made into the excellent Granada series in 1981, and the third-rate film in 2008.

Waugh was clear about the main point of Brideshead in his 1959 preface to the revised edition. “Its theme – the operation of divine grace on a group of diverse but closely connected characters – was perhaps presumptuously large, but I make no apology for it.” And, it’s true, Catholicism provides the spine of the book.

Charles Ryder begins, at his own admission, with “no religion … The view implicit in my education was that the basic narrative of Christianity had long been exposed as a myth.”

By the end of the book (spoiler alert), Ryder is kneeling before the tabernacle in Brideshead’s chapel, saying a prayer, “an ancient, newly-learned form of words”. The implication is that he is about to become a Catholic. Lord Marchmain receives the sacraments on his deathbed. Sebastian ends up in a monastery. A devout Julia separates from the divorced Rex Mottram, and backs out of marriage to Charles, who has already been married.

So, yes, Catholicism is the central theme of the book – but it is only one of several themes. Even Waugh acknowledged that religion is concealed below them. He said to A D Peters, his literary agent, “The whole thing is steeped in theology, but I begin to agree that the theologians won’t recognise it.”

Read the rest there.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, rest in the peace of Christ. George Weigel, reviewing a biography of Waugh in two volumes by Martin Stannard for First Things, quotes the dearly departed: “I know I am awful. But how much more awful I should be without the Faith.” Weigel also quotes Father D'Arcy, who received Waugh into the Church:

Few [converts] can have been so matter of fact as Evelyn Waugh. As he said himself, “On firm intellectual conviction but with little emotion I was admitted to the Church.” All converts have to listen while the teaching of the Church is explained to them”first to make sure that they do in fact know the essentials of the faith and secondly to save future misunderstandings . . . . Another writer came to me at the same time . . . and tested what was being told him by how far it corresponded with his experience. With such a criterion, it was no wonder that he did not persevere. Evelyn, on the other hand, never spoke of experience or feelings. He had come to learn and understand what he believed to be God’s revelation, and this made talking with him an interesting discussion based primarily on reason.

Pray for him. As St. Thomas More noted in his Supplication of Souls, prayer for the dead is never wasted.

505 Years Ago Today at Cambridge

St. John's College was established on April 9, 1511 through the efforts of Margaret Beaufort and St. John Fisher. According to the college website:

St John's was founded in 1511. Its foundation charter, dated 9 April that year, was sealed by the executors of the foundress, Lady Margaret Beaufort mother of King Henry VII, who had died in 1509. She had begun the process of transforming the ancient hospital of St John the Evangelist, Cambridge (founded c. 1200), into a college for students in the liberal arts and theology. From a small nucleus of fellows and scholars subsisting in First Court (1511-16) on the College's endowments the numbers grew by 1545 to one hundred and fifty-two. Subsequently the admission of more undergraduates paying for their own board and tuition created pressure on existing accommodation. This led eventually to the building of Second Court 1599-1601, the first major expansion of the College. Other landmarks were the endowment of a new Library building by John Williams, Bishop of Lincoln and Keeper of the Great Seal to Charles I, in 1624-8, strikingly enlarged and complemented by a modern technically-enhanced extension in 1990-3; the bridging of the river and building of New Court 1826-31; the great chapel, designed by George Gilbert Scott, in 1863-9; and the provision of extensive undergraduate accommodation in the Cripps Building, straddling Bin Brook, in 1964-7.

Successive codes of statutes for the government of the College made by John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester and executor of the Foundress, between 1516 and 1530 were superseded by those given by the Crown in 1545 and 1580, until the nineteenth-century Royal Commissions ushered in a period of frequent reform and reorganization. The College is now governed by statutes made in 1926-7, under powers given to the Universities Commission in 1923, as amended by the Governing Body of the College and approved by the Privy Council, and as recently modified by Order of the University Commissioners in 1995.

Because Margaret Beaufort had just "begun the process of transforming the ancient hospital of St. John the Evangelist", Bishop John Fisher had to complete the process, gaining approvals from Henry VIII (who wanted the money), the Pope, and the Bishop of Ely. Beaufort had died in 1509 after serving briefly as Henry VIII's regent before he turned 18 (the son, Henry VII, predeceased the mother).

In his biography of St. John Fisher, Vincent McNabb OP describes how the bishop deeded his library to the College of St. John, with the proviso he should use them during his lifetime. After his arrest, however, one of Thomas Cromwell's men, Sir Richard Morrison went to Rochester and seized all of the poor bishops goods, including his fine library--so St. John's did not receive the books as promised.

The College of St John's honors its foundress in its grace after meals:

Infunde, quaesumus, Domine Deus, gratiam tuam in mentes nostras, ut his donis datis a Margareta Fundatrice nostra aliisque Benefactoribus ad tuam gloriam utamur; et cum omnibus qui in fide Christi decesserunt ad caelestem vitam resurgamus, per Jesum Christum Dominum nostrum. Deus pro sua infinita clementia Ecclesiae suae pacem et unitatem concedat, augustissimam Reginam nostram Elizabetham conservet, et pacem universo Regno et omnibus Christianis largiatur.

(Pour forth, we beseech thee, Lord God, thy grace into our minds, that we may use these gifts, given by Margaret our Foundress and other Benefactors, to thy glory, and together with all who have died in the faith of Christ rise again to life in heaven, through Jesus Christ our Lord. May God, of his infinite mercy, grant his Church unity and peace, preserve our most august queen, Queen Elizabeth, and grant peace to the whole Realm and to all Christians.)

It's too bad it doesn't mention the great bishop and founder, St. John Fisher! The college does display his portrait next to Lady Margaret's, and unfortunately also displays some errors in the on-line biography. (He was not canonized by Pope Leo XIII; he was executed on June 22, 1535, etc).

St. John Baptist de la Salle and King James II

St. John Baptist de la Salle's feast day was yesterday, but I noticed this detail when reading a brief biography of him: he made an exception to his policy of educating the poor when King James II of England, in exile, made a specific request:

Although the schools had originally been founded for orphans and the children of the poor, a new departure was made at the request of King James II of England, who was then living in exile. He urged the founding of a college for the sons of his adherents, mainly Irish, who were living in France, and Father John opened such a school for fifty young men of gentle birth.

Because de la Salle emphasized teaching in the vernacular, the Irish youth learned French and French history so they could be of service to King Louis XIV.

Manhattan College in New York posts an explanation of a stained glass window depicting James II visiting this special school, which de la Salle founded in Paris:

This window is based on a drawing by 19th century artist Edouard Garnier.

Catholic King James II of England was defeated at the Battle of the Boyne, July 12, 1690 by his son-in-law, William of Orange. Supported by the French King, Louis XIV, he took up residence at St. Germain-en-Laye near Versailles, France. He asked La Salle to establish a school for the children of his Irish followers. La Salle established the school in Paris in 1700 for the Irish children.

James II, along with Archbishop Noailles of Paris, is here visiting the Irish children.

The cathedral in the background of the window is Notre Dame of Paris, the seat of Archbishop Noailles.

A rather old fashioned life of the saint offers these comments about his Irish students:

Of the subsequent careers of the lads who studied under St. John de la Salle in the exiles' boarding- school we know but little. Some of them doubtless remained at the court of Louis XIV and discharged satisfactorily the offices for which they were fitted. Some of them, we may be sure, took part in the several unsuccessful attempts to place the son and grandson of King James known respectively as the Old Pretender and the Young Pretender on the throne of England. More of them probably imitated the example of their fighting sires and in the French army struck stout blows against their English foes at Blenheim and Ramillies and, maybe, even half a century later, at Fontenoy. The wanderlust, always so potent in Irish blood, may have lured others of them across the Atlantic to Canada and the southern colonies. All that is but a matter of conjecture. But it is pleasant to reflect that through them the influence of St. John Baptist de la Salle spread into divers professions and into various parts of the world, and that the young Jacobites were better and wiser men because of their contact with the holy founder.

Happy Birthday, Hugh Blair!

Hugh Blair, minister and rhetorician, was born on April 7, 1718. After his sermons, he is best known for his Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres, in which he argued against sophistry (defending a position you don't believe in yourself) and analysed works of literature from the ancient Greeks and Romans to eighteenth century French and English plays.

The University Bookman posts an appreciation:

One of the most successful of all nineteenth-century textbooks was Hugh Blair’s weighty Rhetoric. Between 1783 (the date of their first publication) and 1911 (the last full edition before that here under review) at least one hundred and thirty issues of this memorable course of lectures saw the light. Where English was spoken, Blair and rhetoric became almost synonymous; and in many another tongue translation brought similarly high repute. Now, thanks to the University of Southern Illinois’ “Landmarks in Rhetoric and Public Address” series, it is once again possible for the teacher and apprentice in this most civil and public of disciplines to inquire why his predecessors thought so well of the Edinburgh cleric-professor’s handiwork and to re-examine with Blair’s “original” in facsimile before them, the grounds and normative (i.e., historical) implications of their (ordinarily) very different preferences. . . .

Blair’s Rhetoric was by his own admission not a revolutionary, experimental, or speculative book, not a scholar’s treatise designed to rival George Campbell’s The Philosophy of Rhetoric or Whately’s Elements of Criticism; instead (and most simply) it was intended as a useful tool—an adaptation of classical rhetoric and rhetorical criticism to suit the purposes of post-Augustan gentlemen, an affirmation of certain constants in the conduct and relations of civilized men and (by implication) of the “ethics” that belong to both: in the terms of two of its present-day admirers, a “rhetoric of belles lettres” for “all comparing in and judging of language.”

Blair knew very well what ends he would serve. For he was among the leading citizens of the old Scots capital in some of its greatest days, a friend of Lord Kames, Hume, and Robertson, a familiar of Boswell, Dr. Johnson, and Adam Smith; and for forty years he gave himself to the local university, to the perpetuation of his kind. As the first Regius Professor of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres at the University of Edinburgh—and even before—the rector of the High Kirk of St. Giles practiced upon Scotland’s future leaders and spokesmen what his own education, pulpit experience, and conversations with men of parts and learning convinced him was the art of rhetoric—of both the spoken and written word when considered as purposive, “designed.”

Please read the rest there.

The Southern Illinois University Press describes their latest (2005) edition of Blair's Rhetoric thus:

This new edition of Hugh Blair’s Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres, edited by Linda Ferreira-Buckley and S. Michael Halloran, answers the need for a complete, reliable text. The book seeks to generate a renewed interest in Blair by provoking new inquiries into the tradition of belletristic rhetoric and by serving as both aid and incentive to others who may join in the project of improving understanding of this landmark rhetorical scholarship.

This edition contains forty-seven lectures and remains faithful to the text of the 1785 London edition. The editors contextualize Hugh Blair’s motivations and thinking by providing in their introduction an extended account of Blair’s life and era. The bibliography of works by and about Blair is an invaluable aid, surpassing previous research on Blair.

Although the extent of its influence cannot be measured fully, Blair’s Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres was undoubtedly a primary vehicle for introducing many eighteenth- and nineteenth-century scholars to classical rhetoric and French belletristic rhetoric—its success due in part to the ease with which the lectures combine neoclassical and Enlightenment thought, accommodating emerging social concerns. Ferreira-Buckley and Halloran’s extensive treatment revives the tradition of belletristic rhetoric, improving the understanding of Blair’s place in the study of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century discourse, while finding him relevant in the twenty-first century.

The Nuns of St. John in England

On the blog of the Museum of the Order of St. John, Nancy Mavroudi writes about the nuns of the Order:

If we were to generalise, we would probably say that Hospitaller women were primarily wealthy, noble women, from aristocratic or powerful families who, in many cases were even forced to join the Order by their families for spiritual benefits – the Order’s blessing for the family. However, although popular, such generalisations are not always accurate. To start with, there is evidence that many women joined voluntarily, simply because they so wanted. Joining a community of Sisters could bring about a change in their lives in which they themselves might have found comfort – especially given that, as discussed in further detail below, the Order could potentially be a more privileged and safe space to be.

Also, not all women had to be wealthy to become Sisters, although this would have been an advantage. There is often evidence that women from all walks of life would be admitted to the Houses, regardless of their financial situation but rather because of their skills that might have matched the practical needs of specific Houses. Those skills ranged from baking and cooking, to farming and to numeracy/literacy, and administration skills. For example, according to the religious tradition around St Ubaldesca (whose portrait can be found in the Order Gallery in our Museum) she came from an underprivileged background. Her father was a baker and their family was struggling to make ends meet; still she was able to join the House in Pisa and was later renounced (sic) Saint.

She describes their duties and contribution to the work of the Order:

Being in charge of a House came with all the responsibilities of running a small community, as well as a religious institution with charitable operations. They were Sisters, as well as carers and nurses (when a Hospital was attached to the House), but they were also administrators, managers, and governors. Perhaps more evident in the independent female convents with their relative autonomy and self-regulation, these female communities had to manage their affairs efficiently in order to be able to survive – from bookkeeping and general administration duties, managing estates, purchases and stock checks, to building maintenance and repairs – especially at times of limited funding when external assistant was not an option. There is evidence that in mixed Houses the Sisters would often come together as collective agents in order to achieve fairer conditions for them, and demand more reasonable funding for the improvement of their lives in the House by organising against the Brothers who felt gave them an unfair share to cover their everyday needs. For example, in Mynchin Buckland (England) the Sisters ‘revolted’ against the Brothers because of unfair treatment in the distribution of the assets between the men and the women and it was serious enough to result in the need of the Prior of England’s intervention to resolve the issue.

Hospitaller women did occupy in many ways positions of leadership and the existence of a Prioress in medieval times was not uncommon. We know from the records saved that in Mynchin Buckland, for example, the Prioress was voted for by her fellow-Sisters, and that in Siena (Spain) the Prioress was ruling over both the Sisters and the Brothers. They had created what was, in many ways, hubs of community support for each other, where levels of independence were often different to what they might have had experienced in their life outside the House. Joining as a Sister opened possibilities for them in areas that were often inconceivable -the example of referring other female family members to the House in order to bypass gender restrictions in the passing of property between them was once such strategic move among others.

The house of Mynchin Buckland, according to British History Online, was founded in 1166:

Soon after the sisters of this order that were scattered in several commanderies in England were gathered together in one house at Buckland, so there was attached to the preceptory the only priory in England of Sisters of the Order of St. John. In later times, because they adopted the rule of the Austin Canonesses for their daily life, these sisters have sometimes been referred to as sisters of that order. The sisterhood began with eight members. Milsant was transferred from the commandery at Standon in Hertfordshire; Johanna also from Standon; Basilia from Carbrooke in Norfolk; Amabilia and Amica de Malketon from Shingay in Cambridgeshire; Christina de Hogshaw from Hogshaw in Bucks; Petronilla from Gosford, and Agnes from Clanfield in Oxfordshire. (fn. 9) These were now gathered at Buckland. The house however was not independent. It was a preceptory with preceptors in charge, and a priory of sisters dependent on it, but governed by a prioress.

Nobles and royalty granted pensions to the nuns in the twelfth through fourteenth centuries. It was, of course, dissolved under Henry VIII:

On 10 February 1539 (fn. 35) the sisters appeared in their chapter-house and formally surrendered their house and its endowments to the king at the hands of John Tregonwell and William Petre. The Popham family had obtained a large amount of their property on lease, and the action of the prioress accounts probably for the favourable arrangements which were made for her and the sisters. The prioress received a pension of £50 a year, and pensions were granted to thirteen sisters as well as to Sir William Mawdesley, confessor to the house. (fn. 36) The prioress also received a gift of £25 (fn. 37) by way of gratuity.

In Cardinal Pole's pension list, 1556, there are payments entered to seven sisters still alive and drawing their pensions.

Note that the Museum of the Order of St. John, while reflecting often on the pre-Reformation Hospitaller Order is a modern foundation, as its website states:

The modern Order of St John in England was granted a Royal Charter by Queen Victoria in 1888. Humanitarian in its aims and purpose, the modern Order recognised the need for public First Aid and ambulance transport services, as no such system existed in newly industrialised England. In addition, the Order established an eye hospital in Jerusalem, following the principles of the Order’s first hospital, treating all those in need, regardless of faith or wealth. The Order’s full title is The Most Venerable Order of the Hospital of St John of Jerusalem. Its principal charitable foundations today are the St John Eye Hospital in Jerusalem, and St John Ambulance.

My "Expert Talk" at The Tudor Society

You have to be a subscriber, but I still wanted to let you know that I worked with Tim Ridgway of the Tudor Society to create a talk on St. Thomas More, based upon presentations I've made recently. With software available on my laptop, I recorded my comments and narrative. I sent him a deck of slides to sync up with my commentary, promising in my recording not to read the slides to people who can read--of course, if they don't want to watch, they might miss out on that part of the information that I don't read! But what a remarkable process: I didn't need a separate piece of equipment (a tape recorder or reel-to-reel machine) or any other extraordinary arrangements. I just sat at my laptop and made my presentation. Tim put it together and voila, I can provide insights to people all over the world!

Later in the month I'll participate in an on-line chat with members of the Tudor Society.

My thesis is that for all his fame and notoriety, Thomas More is relatively unknown. He is immediately recognized but not that well understood. He is controversial and yet we can rely too much on popular presentations of his life and times and even on biographies or books about him. Like many other historical figures, if we really want to understand him, we need to read what he wrote, not just what others wrote about him or about what he wrote, so I encourage those viewing the "expert talk" to investigate More's works, including those that Scepter Publishers has been printing that update the text of even More's English compositions, so they are more accessible.

The video is introduced with this comment:

This month's amazing Expert Talk is by Stephanie Mann, author of "Supremacy and Survival". Her topic, one which is clearly close to her heart, is Thomas More, a fascinating man who it turns out we really don't know as much about as we should.

Prepare to learn about St. Thomas More ...

Also, please note that I've updated my presentations tab here.

Francis Chesterton, Gilbert's Wife

Our G.K. Chesterton reading group will discuss the first three chapters of this biography of Frances Chesterton, G.K.'s wife, published by the American Chesterton Society:

The Woman Who Was Chesterton is a love story. But it is also a detective story. And best of all, it is a true story, told here for the the first time. Gilbert Keith Chesterton was a romantic, a writer of detective tales, and a teller of the truth. His own story and the stories he told are becoming better and better known. But what has remained unknown is the story of the most important person in his life: his wife Frances Chesterton.

Nancy Carpentier Brown has done incredible detective work to uncover the mystery of Frances, tracking a figure who managed to leave very few traces of herself.

It is quite likely that as more is discovered about Frances, more biographies will be written of her, and they will be even more complete. But they will all come back to this one: The Woman Who Was Chesterton.

The title is, of course, a play on The Man Who Was Thursday, one of Chesterton's novels.

Nancy Carpentier Brown, who had previously edited a selection of Frances Chesterton's poems and plays, How Far Is It to Bethlehem, admits that she has somewhat limited resources for this biography because not many of Frances Chesterton's diaries or journals survived. She does have the letters that Frances and Father John O'Connor, Chesterton's model for Father Brown, exchanged which shed some light into their marital relationship. Brown also makes it clear that she is not writing a biography of G.K. Chesterton; she assumes the reader knows the general outline of his life.

This is not a scholarly biography; Brown is trying to describe the personality of Frances Chesterton and her marriage, partnership, and relationship to Chesterton. They were true partners in Chesterton's career: his writing, publishing, speaking; Frances was also a writer, publishing poetry that was admired and set to music. They were also partners in suffering: although they wanted children, they were infertile (Frances' gynecological history is discreetly described) and decided to help children in their extended families and friends rather than adopt (they had dozens of godchildren too). Both suffered chronic illnesses and often had to nurse one another through health crises, hospitalizations, and therapeutic travel.

Brown offered an excellent summary of this book when she wrote this about How Far Is It to Bethlehem?:

Frances Alice Blogg Chesterton spent most of her life in the shadow of her larger than life husband British author Gilbert Keith Chesterton. Subject to gossip and rumors often started by her sister-in-law, Ada Chesterton, Frances chose to keep quietly in the background, letting her husband and others take center stage. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t a woman of talent and extraordinary gifts; it shows she had tremendous humility.

Her story is a love story. The love between Gilbert and Frances was romantic. She was his best fan, his most successful marketer, his biggest cheerleader. She took dictation from him; she tied his shoes. She clung to him when her life seemed out of control. She cherished the love poetry he wrote her, holding the words tenderly in her own heart, never sharing the most intimate of them with anyone. She loved him, and he loved her.

For nearly a century, Frances’ story has been hidden amongst the pages of poetry Gilbert wrote, Christmas cards sent to friends, letters to priests and friends stored in library special collections, biographies written by literary contemporaries, and in scattered periodicals and books. Rarely is it known that Frances had her own writing career. Only recently has anyone been aware that she had four books published during her lifetime.

It’s time to bring Frances out of the shadows and into the light. The story of Frances is intimately woven with the story of Gilbert. They worked as a team; they were lovers and friends, writing coaches and companions. They worked, ate, and slept together for 35 years, dependent on each other physically, emotionally and intellectually. One can hardly understand Gilbert without some understanding of Frances.

Gilbert’s story cannot be written without knowing Frances, but up till now, not enough has been known about Frances. This is the moment when that changes. Frances asked Gilbert to keep her out of his autobiography, but she isn’t here to stop us now. Frances is a woman who will come to be respected ever more, as it is discovered just who she really was, and how much she had to do with who Gilbert was.

Nonesuch Mozart

So we (my husband and I) went to Mass at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception on Thursday last week for noon Mass; then we ate lunch at La Galette (he had soup and salad; I had the special: cabbage rolls and salad and I brought leftovers home). Then we checked out Spektrum Muzik and bought two more Nonesuch albums, My husband also found a used copy of the Chicago Transit Authority double album (sans posters) and we selected a Stan Kenton album too.

On the Mozart symphony album, Edward Tatnall Canby wrote the notes and he commented on how precarious the Mozart family life was. Wolfgang Amadeus seemed to thrive on a nomadic lifestyle, constantly moving, staying ahead of the creditors and landlords, borrowing money and promising to repay without any reasonable expectation of meeting the obligation. Edward Tatnall Canby asks, "Why didn't anyone help Mozart?" Josef Haydn tried to help Mozart, but Mozart, per Canby, did not avail himself of the opportunities Haydn or others offered. As Canby concludes, "Mozart was just plain maladjusted--and therefore misunderstood. If we seem blunt in our judgment, it is only because we are sympathetic. If he could not, would not help himself, we understand. The miracle is his music."

In all that disarray, how did Mozart create those three great symphonies in one summer (1788); Numbers 39, 40, and 41? Canby notes that Mozart's technique and style were so secure that all the confusion around him could not distract him. I think there's a moment in the Milos Forman adaptation of Peter Shaffer's Amadeus that depicts Mozart composing while his wife and father argue in the other room. Canby suggests that Mozart's creativity "was his release from painful reality. Here was the modern escape mechanism in a classic form!" Canby goes on to note the contrast between Mozart's "life of tragedy and the serene perfection of his music" which is "the supreme confidence of a master of style and technique." Finally, Canby concludes: "In Mozart's case--and this was his genius--the escape world of composition was so solid, so disciplined, as to far outshadow reality itself. So it is with most great minds. Maladjustment today, immortality tomorrow."