Anglo-Saxon Attitudes
Read Anglo-Saxon Attitudes Online
Authors: Angus Wilson
ANGLO-SAXON ATTITUDES
Angus Wilson
PENGUIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane, London W8 5TZ, England Penguin Books USA Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood, Victoria, Australia Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2 Penguin Books (NZ) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England
First published by Martin Seeker & Warburg Ltd 1956 Published in Penguin Books 1958 15 17 19 20 18 16
Copyright 1956 by Angus Wilson All rights reserved
Printed in England by Clays Ltd, St Ives pic Filmset in Bembo
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
FOR CHRIS AND PAT
'What curious attitudes he goes into!'
'Not at all,' said the King. 'He's an Anglo-Saxon Messenger - and those are Anglo-Saxon attitudes. He only does them when he's happy.'
Through the Looking-Glass
CHARACTERS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Gerald Middleton:
Professor Emeritus of early medieval history.
Rose Lorimer:
Senior lecturer in medieval history.
Clarissa Crane:
A novelist.
Professor Clun:
Professor of medieval history.
Mrs Clun:
His wife.
Theo Roberts:
Assistant lecturer in history.
Jasper Stringwell-Anderson:
Lecturer in history.
Sir Edgar Iffley:
President of the Historical Association of Medievalists.
Professor Pforzheim:
Professor of medieval history in the University of Halle.
Mrs Salad:
Former ladies' cloakroom attendant and ex-charlady of Gerald Middleton.
Frank Rammage:
Property owner in Earl's Court.
Vin Salad:
A waiter, grandson of Mrs Salad.
Larrie Rourke:
An Irish boy.
Elvira Portway:
Secretary to John Middleton and mistress of Robin
Middleton. Granddaughter of Lilian Portway.
John Middleton:
A radio celebrity and journalist, younger son of Gerald Middleton.
Robin Middleton:
A company director, elder son of Gerald Middleton.
Marie Hélène:
His wife.
Timothy:
Their son.
Lilian Portway:
An ex-actress and suffragette, grandmother to Elvira.
Stéphanie Houdet:
Companion to Lilian Portway and aunt of Marie Hélène Middleton.
Yves Houdet:
Her son.
Mr Barker:
Once coachman and chauffeur to Lilian Portway and her brother-in-law, Canon Portway.
Alice Cressett:
His daughter.
Harold Cressett:
Her husband. A market-gardener.
Maureen Kershaw:
His daughter by his first marriage.
Derek Kershaw:
Her husband. A former naval petty officer, now a garage proprietor.
Ingeborg Middleton:
Wife of Gerald Middleton.
Kay Consett:
Their daughter.
D
ONALD
C
ONSETT
:
Her husband. A sociologist.
L
ARWOOD
:
Gerald Middleton's chauffeur.
M
RS
L
ARWOOD
:
His wife. Housekeeper to Gerald Middleton.
D
OLLIE
S
TOKESAY
:
Widow of Gilbert Stokesay, formerly mistress of Gerald Middleton.
C
USPATT
:
A museum expert.
M. S
ARTHE
:
A biographer.
M
RS
J
EVINGTON
:
A sculptress.
C
AROLINE
J
EVINGTON
:
Her daughter, in love with Timothy Middleton.
O
LD
E
MMIB
:
A friend of Mrs Salad.
CHARACTERS ALREADY DEAD BEFORE THE ACTION OF THE BOOK
E
ORPWALD
:
Seventh-century Christian missionary at the court of King
Aldbert of the East Folk.
A
LDWINE
:
Eighth-century Christian missionary to Heligoland.
P
ROFESSOR
S
TOKESAY
:
Regius Professor of English history.
G
ILBERT
:
His son. Essayist and poet.
C
ANON
P
ORTWAY
:
A noted Churchman and antiquarian.
D
R
W
INSKILL
:
A young general practitioner.
CHARACTERS OFF STAGE
M
R
P
ELICAN
:
A civil servant.
M
R
G
RIMSTON
:
A small manufacturer.
CONTENTS
COLUMN IN THE TIMES
November 1912
It is now possible to make a tentative statement about the extensive archaeological excavations undertaken this summer in the former kingdom of the East Folk. The work was originally carried out by the East Coast Antiquarian Association under the direction of the well-known antiquary the Rev. Reginald Portway, who is Secretary of the Association. The later stages of the excavation were supervised by Professor Stokesay. Excavations were carried out at many sites on the marshy tracts of land near the coast between Bedbury and Melpham. Apart from traces of a pagan Anglo-Saxon cemetery near Bedbury, the outstanding discovery was the tomb of Bishop Eorpwald in the grounds of Melpham House, five miles outside the village of Melpham. The whereabouts of this tomb have long been an historical mystery. Eorpwald, who died in 695, was buried at Sedwich. In 867, when the Norsemen were approaching, the monks of Sedwich carried away his coffin and buried it elsewhere. Tradition spoke of Melpham or Bedbury. The excavation, of course, reveals this long-hidden secret. The stone coffin has inscriptions and ornaments of great interest to historians of the seventh century. The most remarkable discovery, however, is undoubtedly that of a wooden fertility figure. Similar Saxon figures have been found twice before, preserved in the marshy bogs of Jutland and Friesland. But this discovery is unique in English archaeology. Its presence in the coffin of Bishop Eorpwald has given rise to a number of theories among historians of the period. A satisfactory solution must wait upon the publication of the reports of Professor Stokesay and the Rev. Portway. At a coroner's inquest the tomb and its contents were found to be the property of the owners of Melpham Hall - the Rev. Portway and his sister-in-law, Mrs T. Portway, well known to the public as Miss Lilian Portway, the actress. It is understood that negotiations are in progress for the sale of the objects between the owners and the Trustees of the British Museum.
For further documents relating to the Melpham burial see the Appendix at the end of this book.
PART ONE
CHAPTER I
G
ERALD
M
IDDLETON
was a man of mildly but persistently depressive temperament. Such men are not at their best at breakfast, nor is the week before Christmas their happiest time. Both Larwood and Mrs Larwood had learned over the years to respect their employer's melancholy moods by remaining silent. They did so on this morning. The house in Montpelier Square was as noiseless as a tomb. Mrs Middleton had rung up from her house in Marlow as early as eight o'clock to inquire what arrangements her husband had made for his annual Christmas visit to her. Would he, she asked, arrange to bring down their son John? Mrs Larwood had tactfully refused to wake Professor Middleton; she would see that he phoned Mrs Middleton during the morning, she said. The message was placed with the letters and newspapers beside Gerald's plate.
The prospect of speaking to his wife on the telephone and, even more, of the family Christmas party greatly heightened his depression. He decided not to open his letters until he had read the news or to open
The Times
until he had softened his spirits with the more popular daily newspaper which always accompanied it. It was an unwise decision: the optimistic presentation of decidedly bad news on the front page turned his passive gloom into active irritation. On the middle page was a lengthy article by his son John. He always swore that he would not read John's articles, yet he always did so. Their cocksure and sentimental tone at least lent justification to his hearty dislike of his younger son, particularly if he accompanied his reading by a mental image of his wife's cooing admiration of their son's talent.
'Once more,' he read, 'John Middleton investigates fearlessly a case of tyranny and injustice in this overgoverned England of ours. In each investigation that he undertakes, John Middleton goes directly to the centre of the ill, exposes the canker, and proposes its remedy. He is at once physician, surgeon, and healer, of the serious illnesses which threaten the freedom and decent living of everyone of us in England today, of you and me and of every ordinary citizen. The
Daily Blank
does not share John Middleton's political views. He describes himself as an independent radical. The
Daily Blank
is not a radical newspaper, but because it believes that any man who is prepared to fight these deadly evils without fear of person, office, or party is a friend of England, it is proud to publish these courageous articles. John Middleton showed himself a friend of freedom as a Labour Member of Parliament: he showed himself even more so when he resigned from the Labour Party and die House of Commons to fight your battle without the restraints of red tape. If you have grievances, if you know of neighbours suffering under the injustice of government tyranny, big or small, send your problems to John Middleton. He will investigate your case without fear or favour.'
Gerald tried to tell himself that he should be fair to John. The purpose surely was a good one, if the manner was necessarily nauseating. He had no right to judge his son's career by his knowledge of his popularity-seeking character, his histrionic, self-deceiving temperament. Never, after all, had he himself been prepared to face the truth in life, either in his family or in his profession; he had less than no right to judge the manner in which his son did what he had not the courage to do. He settled himself to read this particular case. A Mr Harold Cressett, a market-gardener of outer London, had suffered expropriation of his land by a Ministry which wished to build a government factory on the site. After months of delay, in which Mr Cressett had dismantled his greenhouses, ceased trading, and so on, a curt letter informed him that the land was not needed and that the compensation money must be repaid. The simplicity, the decency, the bewilderment of Mr Cressett and his wife were painted in glowing colours; the tragedy of old Mr Barker, Mrs Cressett's paralysed father, was dwelt upon. He had, it seemed, been a coachman of the old school - a school long vanished. Only at the end of the article were the villains named. Bureaucratic clerks in all their hideous, inhuman behaviour were charged with the deed; but they were only the instruments of tyranny. The real villain was the head of the department - a highly esteemed administrative civil servant named Pelican. Did Mr Pelican, John asked, know the minutiae of his department as his reputation for thoroughness demanded? If so, he had erred by commission. Was he ignorant of his clerks' and executives' incompetence? Then he had erred by omission. Much play was made with Mr Pelican's name. While we all loved the pelicans in St James's Park, it was said: let them suffice. We needed no more pelicans in Whitehall. It was not, it seemed, upon the blood of his own breast that Mr Pelican fed his bureaucratic young, but upon the life-blood of hard-working citizens like Harold Cressett, etc.
