Newsletter Number 71
December 2001
From The Colonel
Dear
All,
At
this time of year I usually reflect over the past season but, sadly, this year
has not seen many events at all due mainly to the foot and mouth epidemic, but
lets hope that 2002 sees a much fuller calendar.
Our
one and only major muster, Battle Abbey, went off very well and everybody
seemed to enjoy it.
Hopton's
week-end at The Rural Life Centre at Farnham was extremely successful, so much
so that we have been invited back again in August next year and, hopefully, it
will be a much bigger event this time. Congratulations
and thanks to Roger for all his hard work.
Corfe
Castle, as usual, was another very successful weekend.
It was great to see Cath and John there this year, it seemed as though
they had never been away (huh!. ed!) and I am sure they thoroughly enjoyed
themselves.
EVENTS
FOR 2002
WHITEHALL
26th - 27th JANUARY
SOCIAL
EVENING - SATURDAY, 26th JANUARY
The
usual room has been booked at The Old
Nun's Head for our social evening on Saturday,
26 January. As this event was
not very well attended last year I have decided that our next social evening
will be FREE!
All you need do is turn up and buy your drinks - all the food and
accommodation will be free. Margaret
and Tina will be preparing a buffet but, obviously, it will not be as
extensive as usual.
PARADE
- SUNDAY 27th JANUARY
As
I have mentioned on numerous occasions this parade is classed as a major
muster and is a very prestigious event. Over
the past few years we have seen a considerable decline in the number of
members attending but I would ask that as many of you as possible make the
effort to attend. PLEASE!!
4th
- 6th MAY - CORFE
CASTLE
Once
again we are re-enacting the Siege of Corfe Castle over the Bank Holiday
week-end.
29th MAY - 1st
JUNE - BATH & WEST SHOW, SOMERSET
This
most unusual major muster will run from Wednesday to Saturday inclusive.
The ECWS will be performing two different, short displays in the main
arena each day. There will also
be a living history encampment every day in a very central site on the
showground.
10
- 11th AUGUST - THE
RURAL LIFE CENTRE, FARNHAM
Due
to an excellent event at this centre last year we have been invited back again
and I would urge anyone who didn't attend this year to certainly make the
effort next year. This is a
beautiful site tucked away down a quiet country lane but there is so much to
see there!
These
are all the events for 2002 that I know of at the present time but, obviously,
should any other dates be confirmed I will
let you know.
Editorial
Dates for your diary
CONFIRMED
·
January
27th/28th 2001, Whitehall Parade, London (Major)
·
May
5th/6th 2001, Corfe Castle (Hopton's event)
·
May
29th/1st June, Bath Showground, Somerset (Major)
A
LIKELY CONCERN
·
April
6th/7th 2001, Cheriton, Hampshire (Hopton's
event)
·
August
9th /10th 2001, Farnham, Surrey (Hopton’s event)
Letters and
Articles
Everybody
knows that the Civil War was fought between Cromwell and his puritans (dressed
up in yellow leather coats with armour and Darth Vaderish helmets stomping
around on huge great ugly carthorses) and the dashing, closet Catholic,
cavaliers (with long curly hair, feathery hats, pretty thoroughbred racehorse
type things and a surprising disregard for the need to wear a certain amount
of protective ironmongery). When I say everybody knows this I am of course
only talking about those of us who have made the effort to intensively
research the period by going to the local metropolitan library and stealing
The Ladybird Book of The English Civil War (this is by the way a damned good
read, could barely put it down, almost stayed up all night to read it in one
go, finished it within the month). Well I have to tell you that against all
expectations this description of the opposing sides proves to be a bit of a
generalisation, if not an absolute fabrication.
His
Excellency Captain Mutley
is
the pride of Lord Hopton`s Infantry;
let
none be in doubt,
we
shall give a loud shout:
"Huzzah
three times
for
Captain Mutley!"
Postscriptum:
Please
give a thought to, and include in your homage, at the Whitehall Parade,
the right loyal Punch and Judy show which once stood on the very spot
of King Charles I`s monument, and which enjoyed the patronage of Charles II
and others of the Court following the Restoration.
POETRY CORNER:
Aspects of the 17th century.
Urbain Grandier.
My
recollection of Dumas` "The Three Musketeers" and "The Man In
The Iron Mask" is rather dim, but if King Louis XIII is portrayed in the
novels as something of a hero, I must disillusion readers and viewers of the
stories. Louis XIII was a psychopath obsessed with witch-hunting, and the
characterisation of the monarch by Ken Russell for his film "The
Devils" is accurate. It was Louis` successor, Louis XIV, the Sun-King,
who formally put an end to the witch-hunts in France. However, it was the
Jesuit priest, Urbain Grandier, whose courage in death really brought the
miserable saga of witch-hunting to an end. Cardinal Richelieu exacted the
following price from Grandier, as my poem reveals.
Urbain Grandier.
We
are told to remember
That
of Christ the King
And
His crucifixion in Judea.
The
Christians say no matter
How
much pain we endure,
If
we but bring to mind the Master,
We
will be comforted for sure.
For
nothing beats the agony
The
Lord went through for us;
So
tell us not of human misery,
You
are merely making a fuss.
He
suffered more than any
Human
being ever could;
Jesus
went through purgatory
To
teach us to be good.
But
if the God-Man ever existed,
(Hush!
You blaspheme, infidel!)
supposing,
just supposing He did;
and
for us went through hell,
What
is crucifixion by contrast
With
the horror of an execution
Of
a certain priest for witchcraft
By
those who are called Christian,
In
a town named Loudun
In
the France of 1634,
Where
a sexually repressed nun
Killed
a man for nothing more
Than
her lust; driven mad
By
the same religion
Of
those Christians so sad
Speaking
always of perdition
If
we but forget the torture
By
means of crucifixion
Of
their God-Man the Creator,
Figment
of their imagination.
Father
Grandier`s crime
Was
to love the girls too much,
And
to question from time to time
The
impositions of the Church.
Ingredients,
allowed to simmer,
Were
soon augmented by the urgency
Of
a woman with schizophrenia
To
sleep with Father Grandier.
The
priest wanted none of it,
He
would not see the Sister,
She
was plainly way out of it,
So
she thought of something sinister
Of
which she could accuse the curate,
Which,
combined with his defence
Of
the citizens of Loudun irate,
And
resolute to fight against
Inroads
on their independence,
Did
make a deadly recipe,
And
for the priest the consequence
Was
to be made to see
The
true nature of Christianity.
Of
witchcraft he knew nothing,
He
wouldn`t have known how to be
A
witch; for him God was
everything.
It
was in a God of goodness
That
Grandier had faith;
His
teachers had borne witness,
To
his love of Jesus Who saith:
"Do
unto others as thou
wouldst
have them do unto thee";
`Twas
in his Jesuit vow
that
Grandier believed implicitly.
The
Church united against Grandier,
Only
the Cordeliers abstained;
They
could not join in, for pity
Of
a man so good and unstained
By
the mania afflicting a time
When
the Church had all in its power,
When,
well-versed in crime,
Holy
religion over all did tower.
First
he was arrested
And
with sharp needles
To
agonies subjected,
Applied
to tongue and genitals.
Then
he was shaved of all hair,
Head,
crotch, armpits and eyebrows,
And
only the humanity of the doctor
Stopped
them pulling out his fingernails.
He
was then tried and ordered
To
confess, but here Grandier,
Showing
great courage refused,
And
`tis on that terrible day
That
he thus saved France
From
future witch-hunts,
Which,
had he done penance,
Would
have gone on without hindrance.
After
judgement he was then
Subjected
to what they called
The
Ordinary and Extraordinary Question,
And
his legs were wedged and nailed
Between
planks of wood,
And
with a hammer smashed,
While
his torturers did all they could
To
make him, as he thrashed
And
screamed, confess.
"Confess
to communion
with
the Evil One, confess!"
they
screeched in unison.
His
legs smashed, his knees gone,
Grandier
was then carted
Round
the town of Loudun
As
the churchmen shouted:
"Confess
in the name of Him
Who
died on the Cross for us!
Confess
to the heinous sin
Of
consort with a succubus!"
In
his sulphur-soaked shirt
The
priest was made
To
do penance in the dirt
Before
the Virgin, Holy Maid
Who
had birth to God given,
In
a shed in Palestine,
Yet
had remained a virgin
Nonetheless,
oh, blessed wine
Of
faith: what imbecilities
You
inspire men with,
And
all wretched criminalities
Urge
on to crime herewith!
He
had no knees on which to kneel,
And
must lie face down in the dirt,
Whilst
a holy Father pulled back his heel
To
kick poor Grandier, lest his hurt
Was
not enough. "Vile specimen!"
The
monk did shout aloud,
"Enemy
of Him Who died for men,
Confess,
do not be proud!"
But
pride was the last thing
On
Grandier`s mind as he
Lay
before Christ his King
And
pleaded eloquently
That
God would pardon
His
executioners and forgive
Him,
Grandier, for all he had done
That
was sinful and let him live
In
Heaven with the virtuous,
With
those who love the Lord,
And
forgive those who are vicious
And
live life by the sword.
And
this is true, though you chuckle,
Grandier
was truly profound
In
his repentance, for it was all
He
had, lying on the ground
To
help him bear the ignominy
Of
the death he knew awaited;
Burning
alive, in dreadful agony,
Fear
and terror unabated.
To
the stake then he was made
To
crawl, as a monk did kick
His
broken feet and, sneering, said,
"Burn
in Hell, dirty heretic!"
The
executioner, less severe
Than
the hysterical churchmen,
Did
in his humanity offer
To
strangle the condemned man.
But
a holy Father, seizing the cord,
Did
tie, knot, and throw it,
Shouting,
"Christ, God our Lord!
To
be saved the heretic must rue it.
He
must feel all the pain
The
fire has in its capacity
To
make him feel, if he is to gain
God`s
mercy in Eternity!"
Grandier,
tied to a stool
By
the stake, tried to address
The
people, but a cleric far from cool
In
his ardour, did this redress
By
seizing a burning faggot
And
setting the heap alight,
As
Grandier, in terror, forgot
His
prayerfulness and in fright
Cried
out to the executioner,
"Is
this what you promised?
Oh
God, Holy Mother!
Help
me, help me, Christ!"
Upon
hearing this blasphemy,
Another
Father leaped
And
struck Grandier viciously
In
the face, and shouted
In
his turn to the crowd,
"See
how he turns away
from
our holy Saviour, the Lord,
and
blasphemes on his dying day!"
The
flames then did conceal
Grandier
from everyone`s sight,
While
the holy Fathers did sprinkle
The
fire with holy water, to incite
The
flames yet more,
As
Grandier was heard
To
cough; "We must ensure
He
does not avoid
Death
by burning
And
through suffocation
Elude
the fire bringing
His
only chance of salvation!"
The
blackened figure from within
The
flames did then turn its head
And
collapse amidst a dreadful din
Of
a falling stake and burning wood.
The
next day the people ravaged
The
cinders for relics of the man
Who
had courageously opposed
The
will of King and churchman.
Yes,
say then to the Christian,
There
are indeed deaths far worse
Than
your Jesus Christ`s crucifixion,
A
mere myth of chapter and verse.
Anthony Walker – Baggage Train
'Exiting
times afoot next year Watson', as Sherlock used to say. And that is so true
regarding re-enacting as we move into 2002. Next year sees the long sought after
'Hologramic Background Creator' (HBC)
and the Audience Participation Equipment (APE), from the ECWS science laboratory
(Q dept) The HBC is pretty much as it sounds. A huge projected image will be
displayed behind our battles giving the effect of one of eight authentic battle
sites no matter what City we are fighting in. The APE however is what is
exciting our directors and sponsors alike.
Each
member of the audience will be given the choice of musketeer, pikeman, artillery
or an officer and of which side. They in turn will be given a set of 'laser
guided death binocuspecs' which will have three shots at his/her own choice of
re-enactor.
Each
re-enactor will have attached to him his own 'regimental death receiver', by
which he can only be killed by someone in the audience with that particular set
of binocuspecs.
As
the battle progresses the audience will be given three options of killing a
chosen
Soldier,
but only at certain times, therefore maintaining our fine tradition of
re-enacting correctly the chosen battle. The APE will only be activated for
three seconds after a volley of shot or cannon is fired, or after the pikes
engage, this will enable ranks and files to march unhindered around the
battle-field when no action is being taken.
If
re-enactors think they can avoid the death gun then think again! The
first 'bolt' from the gun will induce an electrical charge through the body of
no more than 75v. If the re-enactor decides to carry on despite the 'death
sentence' a further charge of 150v will be automatically directed through the
re-enactor. Should he not heed this warning 44,000v will be powered into him
giving the wonderful effect of him/her being blown to smithereens by a cannonball. The
'unlucky' member of the audience who chose a disobedient re-enactor will be
reimbursed in full and given three extra 'bolts' all at 20,000v, but only
directable at the offending regiments officers. If these Officers are already
dead, then the 'bolt' is targetable against any Officers from the same Army.
Knowing your Officers
Martin
Potter – A Gentleman of the Ordnance
Twas the summer of many moons back when The Lord Hopton’s regiment visited a little village called Chumleigh and presented a drill display. Unhappy as the troops were at presenting the type of display which we were accustomed to Martin took the situation into his own hands and organised a revolt against the then drill master. Sixteen ‘Mars bars’Ó were obtained and eaten by Martin before being placed on the ends of our Pikes as a sign of our displeasure!
Martin was also one of (some would say) instigator of infamous ‘Soldiers Council’, which was disbanded by George 30 seconds after it was set up. I remember (not that I was in on it!) sitting around a table in a remote pub in Cornwall, with Martin at the head of the table making plans as to how the regiment should be going, what intrigues and plots should be set up to make the ‘Soldiers Council’ even more powerful than it already wasn’t and who it’s elected officers should be.
As if you didn’t already know, Martin is in charge of, or at least the keeper of the Kings Army Drake Minion, which he happily carts around with him everywhere he goes and can normally be a locating point as to the whereabouts of the man himself. Well that and the beer tent!
|
Favourite
Music |
Guns
‘n’ Roses |
|
Favourite
Film |
Guns
of Navarone |
|
Favourite
Drink |
Strong,
very strong. Just strong. |
|
Favourite
Trait |
Buying
very loud shirts |
|
Worst
Trait |
Wearing
them! |
|
Favourite
Holiday |
Hawaii,
judging by the shirts |
|
Football
Team |
Arsenal
I suppose! |
The day I went to a Muster
Much is made of ones first muster. Almost to the point when you could say that everybody reading this had a brilliant one and decided to stay forever, those that have fallen by the wayside through the years obviously didn’t enjoy themselves quite so much. Even though I appear old in the tooth and more dishevelled than I should be I only joined the society in 1989 or 90 and my first muster was Louth, which apparently was and still is in the Norf.
‘Have you got all the food’ asked John who had driven best part of 1000 miles if my memory serves me correctly to get from Portsmouth to Nottingham. This was my job. You see he told me that it would be easier to cook loads of potatoes and chicken beforehand and just eat on the move all the time negating the bother of lining up at all food outlets that we have come to know and distrust. I was informed at the very last minute that I would also be providing the tent which actually wasn’t too much bother, me being what I thought was an experienced camper….huh!
I don’t know whether or not you ever travelled with John but he had a particular hatred of maps and all things that made sense whilst on the road. So there we were in Nottingham, needing to get to Louth Airfield and where was the map? Somewhere on the side of the A31 in Devon. Anyhow John had a compass in the car and despite the fact it was placed directly above something metallic rendering it useless we managed to weave our way into Lincolnshire and eventually to Louth itself. By today’s standards I (we) arrived late (George had already put up the cook tent). The first sight of a major was really exciting with all the tents and the colours of the standards being flown all over the place, people all milling about, drinking, scoffing and what seemed to be the archaic art of trying to erect new tents There was one really big white tent, which nobody knew for certain what happened in there except that if you stayed in there too long you ended up with either a) no money b) the opposite sex or c) both. One thing I can remember about Louth however was the fact that the beer tent actually supplied lots of chairs and tables, but this was obviously not very successful, as it has not been replicated since to my knowledge. Anyway we had a battle to fight.
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