What art thou Faustus, but a man condemned to die?

Christopher Marlowe

I always feel a sense of accomplishment when I visit a place that has a history of more than one writer.  When I researched Canterbury, I discovered that this incredible cathedral city had a lot more to it than I originally thought.  My discovery was kind of like a coup for me. Of course I needed to do a little more work for this entry, but the rest was much closer to home. 

His name is everywhere in Canterbury

The popular playwright Christopher Marlowe was baptised on the 26^th of February 1564. His birthdate was not recorded but he was like to have been born just a few days before hand. He attended the prestigious King’s School in Canterbury and then on to Corpus Christi in Cambridge. Marlowe never married, but did spend a lot of time in getting into fights. Perhaps if he’d found himself a wife, he might have been around a bit longer.

Several plays were written by Marlowe, but the most well-known would probably be The Tragicall History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus. This was the first dramatised version of a faustian pact. Faustus made a deal with the devil for knowledge and power.

The Marlowe Theatre above and the Marlow Statue below

If you compare the popularity of Christopher Marlowe and Justin Bieber, they’d probably be about equal - in their respective times of course.  But none the less, I couldn’t imagine Bieber getting into a pub brawl which is what Marlowe did on the night that he died.  Stabbed in a pub in Deptford after a drunken evening, or was he?

Conspiracy theory

Whilst enjoying a relaxing boat ride on the river Stour, the oarsman and tour guide Tom, told us of the conspiracy theory relating to the death of Christopher Marlowe.  It is thought that Marlowe staged his death because he was under suspicion for spying for the French.  He may have fled the country and lived in Europe for some time after. There are those who think he continued to write and send his plays to his good friend William Shakespeare. When you consider what Shakespeare has written, one might wonder how someone who never travelled out of England could write of places he had never seen. Then you might wonder also how Bram Stoker could conjure up one of the most popular gothic tales in history when he never visited the Carpathians. I guess when it comes to the Marlowe conspiracy; you either believe it or you don’t. I would never discredit Shakespeare so that kind of makes me a nonbeliever. However, it does make me wonder.

To add fuel to the fire, in St Nicholas’ churchyard in Deptford there is a plaque on the wall which signifies that Marlowe’s remains are buried close by.  It’s an ordinary looking piece of marble which has been etched carefully to state the above.  It seems strange that someone who was so popular didn’t have his gravesite marked which kind of enhances the conspiracy theory, but I’m still not fully convinced.

The plaque in St Nicholas' Churchyard

According to history, Christopher Marlowe was killed in a pub brawl in Deptford in 1593 at the age of 29. He was stabbed by Ingram Frizer, who was known in those times as a swindler. For those of us who weren’t there, I guess we have to make up our own minds of which story we believe and although this one leaves up questioning, I am certain that Once upon a time in England, there lived a talented author who had a flair for storytelling, but whether he died on that fateful night in 1593 will for some remain a mystery.

In search of a “Little bear lost”

Mary Tourtel

For those of you who read my blog regularly, you’ll realise that I’ve been blogging for a year now. So, this week’s blogspedition had to be a little bit special.  After a lot of research and some careful journey planning on my part, I set of at 7:20am to visit one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen to date.  When I lived in Australia, I worked in Canterbury and when you work in a place you kind of get a picture in your head of what a city of the same name in another country might look like.  I was completely wrong of course and the Canterbury that I visited in Kent was quite different to the Melbourne suburb that I once worked in.

In Stour Street Canterbury there is a museum which has a section dedicated to a character that has been around for over 90 years and this beloved bear is so popular that he has had no less than six writers to date.

Plaque on the house in Palace Street Canterbury

Mary Tourtel created the character by the name of Rupert Bear, and the comic strip was first published in the Daily Express in 1920. Tourtel who was born Mary Caldwell in 1874 studied at the Sidney Cooper school of art in Canterbury.  She married Herbert Tourtel who was the editor of the newspaper and Rupert Bear was created to compete against other comic strips in rival newspapers. When Rupert first went to print, he was brown, but they changed his colour to white to cut expenses. Tourtel drew Rupert until her eyesight failed her in 1935.

Part of the museum exhibition - Tourtel creating her comic strip

If you have the opportunity to visit the museum, you’re in for a treat.  The displays are interactive and they have story time there too.  I was lucky enough to catch a rehearsal and I think it’s something everybody would enjoy. There are a few glass case exhibitions, but nothing too boring as this part of the museum really is for kids – and the young at heart.

Rupert Bear Book

Rupert Bear isn’t just a comic strip anymore.  There are books, games, puzzles and of course television shows about his adventures.  I remember years ago my nanna bought a Rupert Bear book for my brother.  I was kind of jealous at the time, but he let me read it. It never occurred to me at the time that I would visit the actual place where the bear was created. 

The headstone of the Tourtel's grave

Mary Tourtel passed away in 1946 and is buried with her husband Herbert in St Martin’s Churchyard. I wonder what she would think about Rupert’s popularity if she were still around.  This phenomenally successful character has won the hearts of children for such a long time and I’m sure that this will continue for many years to come.

Plaque on the house in Ivy Lane Canterbury

I really enjoy the research and travel that goes into my blog and I’m thankful to those of you who take the time to read it. When I visit somewhere that I haven’t been before, it reminds me that the world is a big place with so much to discover. So on the first anniversary of my blog let me finish by saying that Once upon a time in Canterbury, I found not only the bear I was searching for, but another beautiful city worth telling you about.

You have chosen the roughest road, but it leads straight to the hilltops.

John Bunyan

When you write something, take for example this blog, you write for not only yourself, but for others who are interested in the same things you are. Whether you reach the desired market isn’t just up to you, there are a lot of variables.  It might be that people just don’t want to read full stop, or they’re just not interested in the subject. Or it may just be a case of not discovering the work. If you believe that everybody is just going to like what you write about, then you’re sadly mistaken.

This week, we’re going on a journey, but not like my trip to Romania. This is more of a spiritual jaunt into the life of a man who was deeply religious and spent his life preaching to the masses, both in person and in pen.

In 1628, a child by the name of John Bunyan was born. Now as the records for that particular time are slightly sketchy, there is no clear cut information on whether he actually attended school formally or was home schooled. This isn’t so important though as he showed a high level of literacy which indicates to me that he wanted to learn.

A tinker by trade, John married a girl who had been orphaned and left only two books by her father. It was those particular books that influenced John into turning to religion. That and of course the voices that he constantly heard – one was supposed to have been the voice of God himself. This led to discussions with members of a nonconformist sect and he was accepted into an independent church.

John Bunyan rose up through the ranks of the church and he wrote religious books and preached in the street without a licence which led to his arrest. As they could not contain him, he continued to preach, but as England returned to Anglicanism due to the restoration of the monarchy, John was soon arrested again and this time, he went to prison. Now I’m not particularly religious, but I don’t recall ‘Thou shalt not spread the good word,’ being one of the Ten Commandments. However, the law is the law.

Statue of Bunyan in Southampton Row London

Of course, in the 1600’s prison wasn’t quite what it is now and these quite times led to him writing a book called The Pilgrim’s Progress. I remember both of my sons having this book.  I think they received it from the Religious Education teacher on separate occasions.  Whether or not they read it is another story entirely.  The book is interesting as it’s written in two parts, kind of the like the Bible. The earliest edition of the two parts together was printed in 1728.

If you follow the story of Christian, you’ll find it full of temptations and choices.  Throughout the book he meets characters such as Help and Goodwill but there are also the darker characters such as Wanton and Envy. These are exactly as they sound and it’s all very ‘stay on the straight and narrow and don't be tempted by evil.’ There are lessons to be learned and a lot you can relate to everyday life as we know it now. I myself have on several occasions met Mrs Inconsiderate and Mr Feeble-Mind. However, the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Whether or not you like religion, this story is classic literature and has influenced writers such as Mark Twain and C.S. Lewis. There have been references to The Pilgrim’s Progress in other classics such as Little Women and Jane Eyre. I kind of think that it’s one of those books that should be on a bucket list and if you haven’t read it, you’ll probably find it on the used book shelf of a second hand store.

John Bunyan's grave - Bunhill Fields London

John Bunyan passed away in 1688 and hopefully went to a better place. During his sixty years, he chose a twisted path with ups and downs to reach his final destination. We can all learn something from his life and I for one have learnt that Once upon a time in a prison cell, a man turned the one thing he was arrested for into classic literature and although they did really like what he was writing about, John Bunyan got his way in the end.

I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians

Bram Stoker

I think I was about thirteen when I first fell in love. The memory that I’m recalling was of a movie that I saw part of at a high school fete. After that day, obsessed with an immortal being, I promised myself that one day I would travel to the country of the origin of the vampire. I’ve read so many stories about vampires, that it almost stops my heart just thinking about the hours I’ve spent devouring sentence after sentence. So when I had the chance to visit Transylvania in Romania, I naturally took it.

The vampire is one of the lustier horrors in this world and although they’re blood sucking killers, they’re captivatingly evocative. There have been so many novels written about these night stalkers, but I only have one in mind at the moment and that particular book is of course, Dracula.

 

Bram Stoker the creator of this particular devil was born Abraham Stoker on the 8^th of November 1847. An Irishman, he grew up on the north side of Dublin and was the third of seven children. Stoker had an illness that kept him bedridden until he started school at the age of seven when he made a full recovery. He was educated at a private school and then Trinity College where he became interested in the theatre. His work as a critic for the Dublin Evening Mail was well received due to the calibre of the reviews, and a favourable review of Henry Irving’s Hamlet earned him an opportune friendship.

At the Lyceum Theatre in London there is a plaque dedicated to Irving and Stoker honouring the work they both did there, and it was  whilst working at this theatre that Stoker wrote the book Dracula. This is the book that introduced both the characters Dracula and Abraham Van Helsing to the world and this is in my opinion, possibly the best vampire book of all time.  It’s a collection of several characters diaries and letters about the infamous Count and when you read it, you kind of think that they can’t all be wrong, there has to be something to this. So I travelled to Transylvania myself.

Communism was like a stake in the heart of Romania and it left the country poor and unforgiving. As I journeyed through the countryside and saw the abandoned farms and burnt out houses, I felt a sadness that put things into perspective for me.  Naturally I was excited about my epic quest, but I kind of felt that I had taken my life for granted and that I should count my blessings.  As I looked out of the train window at the Carpathians capped in snow, I began to think about how Jonathan Harker felt as he travelled towards the castle in the mountains. Obviously we were travelling from different directions as he made his trek from Budapest and I was training it from Bucharest, but we kind of had a similar goal. Now I know that vampires are folklore and that Stoker’s original ideal came from a mix of Vlad the Impaler and the dark stories of the Carpathians, but it’s fun to think that these creatures might actually exist. I can also reveal that Bram Stoker never travelled to Transylvania, but I also find it amusing to know that thousands of tourists flock to Bran Castle every year because of the notorious legend.

Bran Castle promoted as Dracula's Castle.

After one night in Bucharest and the second in Brasov, I caught the bus to Bran. The bus fare was a tiny seven Lei which is about one pound forty. I saw a few villages along the way, but none quite as alluring as Bran.  The Castle can be seen from the main road and it’s amazing. It kind of juts out above the rock and has some incredible views from the windows and balconies. The castle has been maintained well and is now a major tourist attraction.  I don’t think either Vlad Tepes or Dracula ever lived there, but I had a fantastic feeling as I walked through the castle doors and fulfilled a lifelong dream and would gladly return to Transylvania as Harker did, but not to stake a vampire.

Before taking the trek to the Carpathians, I revisited the book Dracula just as a refresh.  The copy I have is kind of special because it was a gift from my eldest son Brendan. Both of my boys know how much I love the un-dead.

Bram Stoker passed away on the 20^th of April in 1912 and was cremated at Golders Green Crematorium in London where his ashes are on display in an urn. During his lifetime he created one of the most evil and seductive characters in literary history which brings me to say that Once upon a time in Transylvania, my dream came true and although both Bram Stoker and Vlad Tepes are gone, the legend of Dracula lives on.

Learning is its own exceedingly great reward

William Hazlitt

I’m not really one for essays, but I recently read one online called, On the pleasure of hating by William Hazlitt. It struck me as very familiar and although it was written around the 1820’s I realised that when it comes to the nature of the topic, society hasn’t really changed a great deal since that time.

Over the past 12 months I’ve come across Hazlitt’s name on many occasions but never having read any of his essays until now, didn’t think to include him in my blog before reading his work.  After further investigation, I learned that William Hazlitt was born in 1778 and at the age of two, he embarked on a sort of journey with his migratory family. Although, you might say he was dragged from pillar to post. Primarily educated at home, Hazlitt went on to study a broad curriculum at Hackney College. He was only there for two years, but his studies had quite an impact on him. He was vastly interested in politics and philosophy of the mind which we all know as psychology.

Throughout his life, he wrote several essays on human behaviour and also critical work of other writers and their characters, including Shakespeare.  His book was revolutionary in the sense that the study was comprehensive of all of Shakespeare’s plays and somewhat of a guide to understanding the work. Due to his criticism of several writers, his reputation took a dive and he was attacked and ridiculed publicly – in a magazine of course and we all know that the pen is mightier than the sword.

A failing marriage led to frequent visits to prostitutes and due to his reputation he was unable to earn a living. Eviction and solace took him to the country where he focussed on his writing where he wrote essays which were outstanding. This work included On the pleasure of hating, which kind of sums up the bitterness in his life to that date. This is the essay that caught my attention and made me pursue the writer and ask myself the question, do we really love to hate?

Throughout my own life, I’ve moved in many circles and they all have the same thing in common. People like to bitch about each other.  Some do it more than others and I’m not sure that it could be described as hate, but I think there’s something in this. When you look at small communities, there’s usually someone a little different or a recluse type that the rest like to ridicule or taunt. As Hazlitt also points out, in history we burnt those that we believed were witches and took great pleasure in it. He also touches on the tall poppies of society and we love to see them fall, don’t we?  So, is it human nature to turn upon our friends? Is the concept of love folly? Every honeymoon has an ending and even the sweetest strawberries turn rotten eventually, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t love our neighbour.

His grave in the churchyard of St Anne's Soho

William Hazlitt did marry again and he wrote a lot more than I have mentioned here. Although he was critical of others, he was also very critical of himself which is something we all have in common too. The human race is a long one and whether you’re out in front, or lagging behind, you’re still running it. So I guess if you want to remain positive about your place, you sometimes have to vent a little. When Hazlitt passed away in 1830 his burial was attended by a handful of close family and friends, but he doesn’t know that. His life was rewarded by the knowledge he gathered along the way, not by the friends he didn’t manage to make. So when I think about this in detail it reaffirms that Once upon a time in London, I ventured into a literary mind that introduced an insight which hasn’t changed in centuries and isn’t likely to.

 

Fear of danger is ten thousand times more terrifying than danger itself.

Daniel Defoe

A stone memorial stands in Bunhill Fields, City Road, London.  Like every other memorial or statue in London, it’s there for a reason.  In this incredible city with its remarkable history there are heroes and villains, some who are more obvious than others, but all have left some sort of mark.  From the dark streets of the east end to the vibrant more opulent west, history explains who and what have shaped this, in some respects, not so fair city. The stone memorial in Bunhill Fields is dedicated to a writer by the name of Daniel Defoe.

Born Daniel Foe around 1660 allegedly in the parish of St Giles Cripplegate, he added the De to his surname later in life so that he sounded more prestigious. Of course I couldn’t find any exact records of his birth so I’m going on the estimate. When the great fire of London swept through the city in 1665, 70,000 were killed and strangely his family home and two others in the neighbourhood were left standing. It’s incredible when you think about the magnitude of the fire. Unfortunately for Daniel, two years later Chatham was attacked by a Dutch Fleet that sailed up the Medway via the Thames. So by the age of let’s say seven, he had experienced two significant events in the history of London as we know it today.

Memorial in Bunhill Fields

Defoe was ambitious, although, he was rarely out of debt.  He married in 1684 and the dowry of his wife was a considerable amount which helped somewhat, but didn’t clear the debt. Like so many others, Defoe was arrested for his debts.  Upon his release, he travelled for a while, but returned to England and started writing by way of political pamphlets and essays.  Arrested again he went to prison once more and it wasn’t until 1719 that Robinson Crusoe was published.

Most of us know the story of Crusoe and how he was shipwrecked, but there’s more to it than a man surviving on an island.  The book includes Crusoe’s creation of his own community and when you create your own community, you can govern the way you want to. Perhaps this had something to do with Defoe’s political views.  In the book it seems that Robinson Crusoe can do anything including rescue people and converting them to Christianity.  It seems a little far-fetched, but when you write a novel it comes from you and your own ideas.

Defoe was one of the pioneers of the English novel as we know it and helped to make this form of writing popular. Along with writers such as John Bunyan and Jonathan Swift, he played an extremely important part in the history of literature by writing over 500 books, pamphlets and journals all on several different topics and while I’ve found out quite about the writer, I wish I knew more about his personal life.

I kind of stumbled across this by accident.

In this ever-changing world where one man’s views aren’t always shared by others, it’s sometimes difficult to stand up and say what’s on your mind.  Every now and then you find someone who has a voice and isn’t swayed by popular opinion. I believe Daniel Defoe was one such person. Brave and heroic and an individual like his Robinson Crusoe. That’s why it gives me great pleasure to tell you that Once upon a time in London, a man had not just an idea, but the strength to go through with it.

With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes……

Recently somebody asked me why I had returned to live in this strange country.  My reply of course was home is where the heart is.  But it did prompt me to think about a few things.  In this land of constant rain and lush vegetation there are some things that seem just a little peculiar.  If you look at the coat of arms, one of the creatures is mythical and although I find this a little strange, it didn’t surprise me at all to discover that there is such a thing as the Banbury Cross.

Considering it was International Women’s day on Friday, and its Mother’s Day here tomorrow, I thought this might be a fitting weekend to follow this up, considering the content of the rhyme and all. So, I travelled by train from London Marylebone station to Banbury in search of something that had been introduced to me years ago when I was very young.  In my eagerness to research the cross, I also discovered that there is also a statue of a fine Lady upon a white horse.  There are a few different interpretations of what the rhyme may mean, but I think I’ve worked it out, so let’s break it down.

Ride a cock horse, cock in this case refers to the male of the species so I would envision myself riding in on a fine stallion – although on this occasion I took the train.

To Banbury Cross, goes without saying that the cross would be your preferred destination.  I have discovered though that the existing Banbury Cross is the third to be erected.  The first two were torn down by puritans. The cross that stands today was to commemorate the marriage of Queen Victoria’s eldest daughter.

Banbury Cross

 

To see a fine Lady, this was thought to be a member of the Fiennes family, Queen Elizabeth I or Lady Godiva. However, it was more than likely to be a local girl who rode in a May Day procession.  I also found out that there is a burlesque dancer called Miss Banbury Cross, but I don’t think she has anything to do with the nursery rhyme.

The statue of the Lady

 

Upon a white horse, I don’t want to state the obvious, but perhaps her horse was white.

With rings on her fingers, these represent power, affluence, status and so on.  I guess if she could afford a horse and she was wearing rings and people were encouraged to visit Banbury to see her, then she must have been a little bit special.

And bells on her toes, your guess is as good as mine.  I kind of think they just put this line in to fill the space, but the statue that’s in Banbury has Bluebells on the feet and these supposedly represent constancy.

She shall have music where ever she goes. This rhyme has been around for quite some time so I’m sure that this line doesn’t refer to an iPod. I remember reading something about minstrels and if you look at history, the more privileged in the communities such as knights had minstrels.  Although, I don’t know if I’d enjoy being followed around by someone strumming a lute and singing about me but I’m a pauper so I suppose I’ll never find out.

So that’s the rhyme, now for the town. When I arrived in Banbury, I headed straight for the information centre and found that this historic place has a lot to offer.  I found a cafe to get myself a cup of tea and a bacon and brown sauce sandwich, and looked at a map I’d picked up from the centre.

I wandered around looking at some of the lovely old buildings that date back to the 1100’s. Banbury even has a town crier. After taking the pictures I needed for this week’s blog, I went back to the tourist info place and bought some Banbury cakes which we’ll be having for breakfast tomorrow morning. I will let you know what they taste like though.

Hmm, so after revisiting my nursery years and taking a day trip to North Oxfordshire, I can happily tell you that Once upon a time in this strange country, although I’ve never seen a Unicorn and I’m not bloody likely to, I did enjoy my saunter through Banbury to discover a cross and a fine Lady upon a white horse.