Four DVDs

 While the cat's away - for eleven days - I gained control of the TV/DVD equipment in our Dayroom. There were three DVDs I had bought several weeks ago at HMV just itching to be played. So, just a few thoughts on each.

2016 Film

Of the three films, I think I enjoyed this the most. The story is a simple one. Captain Stefan Brandt is sent to investigate a threat to the exiled Kaiser Wilhelm II. Arriving at the Kaiser's secluded mansion, Brandt finds out that local resistance and British intelligence are moving in on the deposed emperor. As he starts to find out more about life at the mansion, Brandt is immediately drawn into a passionate romance with Mieke, one of the Kaiser's maids. The story is based on Alan Judd's novel, The Kaiser's Last Kiss and, although not historical, it is sustained through, largely, some fine and compelling acting.

Above all, Christopher Plummer is excellent as the aging and, to start with, deluded Kaiser. Naively believing that Hitler sees a role for a restored monarchy in the Nazi regime, he slowly understands that he has no place in the 'new' Germany. At the end, he even takes part in the daring escape of Mieke, the undercover British agent (whose husband and father had been killed by the Nazis). Brandt and Mieke, again very well played by Jai Courtney and Lily James, are very realistic as their love affair blossoms and Brandt has to choose between loyalty to a regime he has begun to despise and his lover. Janet McTeer is compelling as the Kaiser's wife, desperate to return to the glory of a renewed Empire and with none of the sympathies that the Kaiser shows. In addition, we are treated to a sinister, and rather terrifying, cameo by Eddie Marsan as Hitler's evil henchman Heinrich Himmler. 

All in all, it did not matter that the events were unhistorical; it was a very satisfying film, with top class acting and well directed. 

1970 Film

Here was Christopher Plummer again, but forty years earlier; this time giving a sterling impression of the Duke of Wellington. He is up against an equally good actor, in the shape of Rod Stieger as Napoleon. There are bit parts for Jack Hawkins and Terence Alexander as Wellington's officers; Virginia McKenna doing her bit at the famous Ball at Brussels; and a typical cameo by Orson Welles as the gross Louis XVIII. I wonder how much the latter was paid? Hopefully, not the huge amounts shelled out to Marlon Brando (I am thinking of Apocalypse Now) - both gross.  Stieger puts his all into his portrayal of Napoleon and it is effective, particularly in the early scenes in Paris and Elba. He is hubristic and charismatic but also vulnerable and self-pitying. Plummer has the easier task of just maintaining the stiff upper lip. The arrogance and entitled nature is counterbalanced by a self-deprecating wit.     

The cinematography was excellent; shot in Ukraine with what were then Russian soldiers being used in the battlefield scenes (how poignant today). It is easy to mock the obvious cardboard cut-out models used for distant infantrymen, or the recognition of one or two actors being used for both sides, but before CGI made a total mockery of reality, the staging of the battle was impressive. Inevitably, it was difficult to follow exactly what was happening, but I expect that was the case on the day itself. And thank god for Blucher and the Prussians!                                                                                                                                                                  

2017 Film

Christopher Nolan's film scored impressively with the critics: A stone cold masterpiece (Associated Press); Nolan at the peak of his powers (The Daily Telegraph); but, for some reason, I found this the least enjoyable of the three films. One reason, and not a praiseworthy one, is that it contained actors I don't like! Sir Kenneth Branagh (Ken & Em - ugh!), Tom Hardy and Mark Rylance, I would prefer not to watch; but Cillian Murphy did well in what was a rather unsympathetic role. As one reviewer has commented, you need to know your history to understand the film. Although the event itself is the story of over 338,000 being rescued from the French coast, the director has chose to home in on some individual stories - of bravery, deception, fear...

I was warned that the format was one of overlapping vignettes - the three RAF fighters, the little boat with father, son and even younger friend on board; the terrified soldiers going down with a ship; the Frenchman trying to get to England undiscovered. To quote from another reviewer: There are two ways of looking at this film. You can decide, as some do, that any film about Dunkirk must include a wider panorama and more stories from the beach...which is fair enough, but not the decision the director took...you can go with the director and immerse yourself in a wonderful, twisting, breathtaking, shocking but ungory tale, woven between the air, the sea and the land...

Clearly the film's budget dictated the meagre amount of men shown on the beach, the small flotilla of little boats sailing to their rescue, just three RAF planes, and so on; but, for once, I was thinking "use some CGI" to give the thing more credibility. The different timelines were, to start with, simply confusing but became more understandable as the film progressed. Perhaps I should watch it again.

1951 Film

As a bonus, I re-watched one of my favourite Hitchcock films - Strangers on a Train. Again, the acting by the two leads, Farley Granger and Robert Walker was well-nigh faultless. Strong backing was had from the latter's screwball mother; the former's present wife and hoped-for new spouse; and the great Leo G. Carroll - who can forget The Man from U.N.C.L.E.?! Such a tragedy that Walker died, aged just 32, having suffered for a long time from alcoholism and mental illness. He made just one more film, but before production was finished, he was dead. Angles from his death scene in that film were spliced from his 'death' in Strangers on a Train.

Crafted from Patricia Highsmith's (now there was another oddball) book, but with a different ending, Hitchcock uses humour - mostly dark - as well as tension to produce one of his most memorable movies. The editing is superb, the black and white shooting is fashioned for the subject and the scenarios (the moving train; Bruno's mansion; the famous tennis game where Bruno is the only one not to move his head from side to side with the trajectory of the ball; the Fairground, the actually killing spot with the close-up of the wife's glasses) are so Hitchcockian. I also watched the documentary about the film on the second disc. Here the older Farley Granger and Pat Hitchcock's reminiscing were linked with Peter Bogdanovich's interview with Hitchcock himself.  A true master and masterpiece.

G.P.R. James' 'The Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall' 1834

 

Longman, Rees etc. first edition - 1834

The 'Little Ball o' Fire' so well depicted in James' previous novel, Henry Masterton, now takes centre stage during an exciting period in French history - the early years of Louis XIV's reign, which were bedevilled by the Fronde, the machinations of Cardinal Mazarin and the military exploits of the Prince of Condé. James has certainly done his research and, although occasionally some pages descend into a mere narrative of events, he manages to marry the wider true historical framework with the exploits of his hero. I have remarked before on the author's ability to create living beings from his fictional characters and this tale is no exception. The development of Marston Hall from a rather wild cap youngster into a more sober young man is skilfully and realistically done. His successful involvement in sieges, skirmishes and political intrigue leads naturally to his social (and economic) advancement, and it is no surprise that he ends up as the Baron de Juvigny. The real life young king, Louis XIV, his crafty first minister Cardinal Mazarin, the famous general Turenne, and the errant Prince of Prince of Condé, are successfully woven into the fabric of the story.

Amongst the fictitious characters that come alive are his protector, Monsieur (Duke) de Villardin - who increasingly relies on Marston Hall and treats him as the 'son' he seemingly never had; the slightly mysterious but compelling Pere or Father Ferdinand, de Villardin's confessor; Clement de la Marke, the boy who Marston Hall takes on as his page but whose mysterious birthright persists until the last few pages; and, above all, de Villardin's daughter Laura, the heroine of the novel. Other, more minor, characters include de Villardin's faithful major domo, Jerome Laborde and his capricious but good-hearted nephew, Jacques Marlot, a loveable rogue, whose seditious printing nearly ends with him being hanged.

Of course, every tale should have its blackguard and this novel has two: Gaspard de Belleville, whose position in de Villardin's household as his senior page is ended with Marston Hall's arrival, and who regularly pops up in the story attempting to blight the latter's life; and Hubert, an incorrigible rogue. In addition, there is Gaspard's downtrodden wife (and Hubert's sister) and erstwhile maid to Laura, Suzette, who finally comes good and is responsible for thwarting her husband's and brother's dastardly crime. 

I claim credit for guessing most of the twists in the story as it drew to its conclusion. The young Clement's origins was the easiest to forecast and I wondered about who Father Ferdinand really was; but another discovery was a complete surprise. James, once again, held this reader's interest from start to finish. Even though the final volume tended to be a long drawn-out, often frustrated, love story, it still gelled with the overall presentation.

Finally, an example of the author's sage musings:

The original fabric of the mind, of course, remains the same; but - as education shares with nature in the character of each human being, and as life is but a continual education, - I feel convinced that we go on altering from the cradle to the grave The tree grows up and spreads, and certainly remains for ever the ash, the elm, or the oak that it first sprouted from the ground; but its form, and appearance, and size, and strength, and beauty are changed by winds, and storms, and circumstances, and accidents, and position, and tine; and so, I am convinced, it is with the human heart. The story of John Marston Hall is a prime example. From 'The Little Ball o' Fire', he becomes a more sober young adult, but still with flickers of those juvenile flames.

Wolf Mankowitz's 'The Extraordinary Mr Poe' - 1978

 

Weidenfeld and Nicolson first edition -  1978

Where does one start?! I think with a quotation from Mankowitz nearly at the end of this morbidly compelling biography: The Imp of the Peverse. To say that Poe was his own worst enemy is an understatement, as it was a lifelong affliction. If he wasn't soused in drink, he was unnaturally 'enhanced' with laudanum. Born on 19 January 1809, to parents who were struggling financially, Poe had an awful childhood. His father finally absconded that same year (he died of consumption - who didn't in those days? - in October 1810). His mother, Elizabeth, also had tuberculosis; Mankowitz describes her as mercurial, brilliantly painted, exquisitely ethereal, who loved her son. Although star of a small travelling theatre company, the Charleston Players, she was increasingly absent due to her declining health. The wife of a wealthy Scottish merchant, Mrs Frances Kelling Allan, was recommended as a surrogate mother. Elizabeth Poe, aged only twenty-four, died of pneumonia on 8 December 1811. Edgar was to be haunted for the rest of his own short life by the spectre of the 'Red Death'. 

Whilst the childless Frances Allan, adored and spoilt Edgar. her husband John - authoritarian in his make-up - increasing grew to dislike, even hate, his 'foster' son. Much of the grimness in Edgar's life can be traced to the appalling treatment, both mental and financial, that John Allan meted out to him. Certainly if Poe had never fallen out with Allan then the horrifying poverty which dogged and crippled him from student days until his death might have been easily and quite inexpensively eradicated. When the Allans travelled to Scotland - where most of the Allan relations lived - Edgar was sent to school in Irvine. He hated the discipline and soulless curriculum. He finally got his wish to join the Allans in London. But Frances' health declined, as did John's business affairs. So back they went to Richmond, USA. Mrs Allan's case was hopeless; and was linked in Poe's mind to another woman's ill-health. Mrs Stanard became a fixation, even though she was twice his age.  She died in 1824. Edgar's melancholy had deepened during her illness and he was said to have haunted her grave at night. 

Sent by his foster father to Charlottesville, Virginia, there is now evidence that Edgar had become a 'serious' drinker. He had no resistance to alcohol...since he was of a markedly manic depressive type, this excitement would certainly be followed by depression...Poe was an extremely 'unstable creature'. The rest of Mankowitz's biography reads like one of Edgar's own horror stories. In addition to his copious bouts of drinking, Edgar had now added usage of laudanum (opium). Out of this cocktail, and allied with his own morbid character, came a succession of poems and stories now regarded as Classics of their genre included. The Gold Bug; Ms Found in a Bottle; Tales of the Folio Club are full of opiate fantasies; The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, Edgar's single long work; The Fall of the House of Usher; The Devil in the Belfry; The Murders in the Rue Morgue; The Mystery of Marie Roget; A Descent into the Maelstrom; The Masque of the Red Death - the emblematic story of Edgar's destined subjection to tuberculosis; The Tell-Tale Heart; The Pit and the Pendulum. And his poems, such as Al Aaraaf, Lenore, The Conqueror Worm, Ulalume and, the most famous, The Raven.

John Allan (now married to a second wife, who hated Edgar) continued to be totally mean spirited. At his death, in 1834, he had left nothing to Edgar in his Will. During the 1840's Edgar was also spiralling towards his own demise. One of the strangest episodes in his life was his marriage to his thirteen-year old cousin, Virginia. The marriage bond of Edgar and Virginia, dated 16 May 1836, stated that Virginia to be 'of the full age of twenty-one years'! Her mother, Maria Clemm, became Poe's third 'mother' and, as far as she was able, tried to keep him on the straight and narrow. His evil genius ensured he meandered widely. When Virginia died, coughing, choking and smothering herself, on 30 January 1847, Edgar was in a state of collapse. He remained numb for several weeks.  He had just two years to live. Regularly inebriated, he was unable to fulfil engagements to read his works; he was a confused and tortured soul. Exhausted and depressed, all this planning and work seemed, once again, to be coming to nothing. His heartbeat was erratic, and he complained of a headache that lasted for months. These symptoms. and the 'brain fever' from which he suffered from time to time, would seem to have been symptomatic of the lesion of the brain discovered after his death.

Finally, on arrival at Baltimore to give a talk, he was already intoxicated. Further drinking bouts followed  He collapsed; a Doctor Snodgrass was sent for, who noted Edgar's appearance: His face was haggard, not to say bloated, his hair unkempt and his whole physique repulsive... No wonder, on the morning of 7 October 1849, he whispered 'Lord help my poor soul' and expired.

R.D. Blackmore's 'Cripps the Carrier' 1876

 

Several years ago, I purchased the above book. I was drawn to it for two reasons: firstly, I realised I knew nothing about the author, apart from the fact that he had written Lorna Doone (1869); secondly, this copy had 'Withdrawn from Reserve Stock' and 'Last Copy'. I had to have it! Kenneth Budd wrote, in his Foreword, It is the purpose of the present study to combine an outline biography with some comments on the novels, in the hope that modern [he was writing this in 1960] readers may be led to discover and appreciate the several excellent books that have languished for too long in the shade of 'Lorna Doone'.Well, I still haven't read the latter, or any other of Blackmore's novels, but I was drawn to Cripps the Carrier because of its subtitle - a woodland tale. I couldn't track down the three-volume first edition - and still can't - but I managed to purchase the first one-volume, third, edition of the following year. I recalled how much I had enjoyed Thomas Hardy's The Woodlanders and hoped for a likewise treat. 

If you like slow, almost claustrophobic, tales set in the 19th century, then you will enjoy Cripps. Kenneth Budd comments: it is a good example of the field in which Blackmore's best work was done - the small, self-contained community of the English village in the 18th or early 19th century, with a number of outstanding "characters", living their tranquil lives against the background of Nature lovely in herself and magnificent in her constant witness to God-given laws".

Sampson Low etc. third edition - 1877

The period in question is 1837-8, and the novel is set in the village of Beckley, a few miles north-east of Oxford. Beckley lies, or rather lay many years ago, in the quiet of old Stow Wood, well known to every Oxford man who loves the horn or fusil. In 1931, the parish of Beckley had a population of just 288; and, in the Census Return of 2011, it was not much bigger. However in the 1830s, it was nearer to 800. The course of the Roman road that linked Dorchester on Thames with Alcester passes through the village. Having often travelled through Islip to Elsfield, both not far from Beckley, I know the area quite well.

The plot hinges on the disappearance - and presumed death - of Squire Worth Oglander's daughter, Grace. In fact, Grace is borne off from her aunt's home by the machinations of a villainous attorney, Luke Sharp, who - knowing she is the heiress of a considerable fortune - wishes to marry her to his son Kit. Grace  is ensconced in the depths of the forest (but just seven miles from her father's house), under the care of a religious firebrand, Miss Patch. Amongst other characters, all well-drawn, are Russel Overshute, the heir of the Overshutes of Shotover, who wishes to marry Grace and whose love is returned; Mirander Sharp, Luke's greedy wife; Hardenow, tutor at Brasenose College and good friend of Russel; and, above all, the numerous Cripps family.

One great tradition had confirmed the dynasty of the Crippses. This was that the eldest son should take the carrying business; the second son should have the baker's shop in Oxford over against old Balliol College; the third should have the queer old swine-farm in the heart of Stow Forest; the fourth should be the butcher of Beckley; the fifth its shoemaker... as for the maids, the Carrier, being the head of the family, and holding the house and the stable and cart, was bound to take the maids, one by one, to and fro under his tilt twice a week, till the public fell in love with them...Leviticus Cripps was lord of the swine, and Numbers bore the cleaver, while Deuteronomy stuck to his last, when the public-house could spare him.

Zacchary Cripps had a bright open face, with a short nose of brave and comely cock, a mouth large, pleasant, and mild as a cow's, a strong, square forehead, and blue eyese of great vivacity, and some humour. He had true Cripps' hair, like a horn-beam hedhe in the month of January; and a thick curly beard of good hay colour, shaven into three scollops like a clover leaf. Of equal importance is Cripps' beloved horse, Dobbin, who is lovingly drawn by the author. Zachary's younger sister, Esther, plays a vital role in proceedings, as does Mary Hookham, the squire's best maid, who looks longingly at Zachary . 

Miss Patch, was determined to save Grace, who was a great heiress, and a silly girl, [and who] was at the point of being snapped up by the papists, and made one of them; whereupon an immortal soul and £150,000 would be devoted to perdition....it was well known that Russel Overshute loved and would win Grace Oglander, and that Russel's dearest friend was Hardenow of Brasenose, and that Hardenow was the deepest Jesuit ever admitted to holy orders in the Church of England; therefore, at heart, Russel Overshute must be a papist of the deepest dye...

What makes the novel such a satisfying read, is not only these lifelike and varied characters, but the author's obvious love of Nature: 

The flowers themselves, and their open eyes, and the sparkling smile of the grass, and the untold commerce of the freighted bees, and rich voluntaries of thrush  and blackbird (ruffled to the throat with song)... and again: The white windflower with its drooping bells, and the bluebell, and the pasque-flower - softest of all soft tints - likewise the delicate stitchwort, and the breath of the lingering primrose, and the white violet that outvies its sister  in fragrance and in purity; and hiding for its life, without any one to seek, the sensitive wood-sorrel; and, in and out, and behind them all, the cups, and the sceptres, and the balls of moss, and the shells and the combs of lichen... In fact, a whole Chapter is simply entitled Ruts. It starts: There are few things more interesting than ruts; regarded at the proper time and in the proper manner...each rut moreover has a voice of its own...there always is a bit of something hard and something soft in it; jags that contradict all things with a jerk; and deep subsidence, soft as flattery.

Icing on the cake was the regular injection of gentle humour, which made me smile and even chuckle! "Miranda, my dear, you are talking loosely. You forget the great gift that you possess - the noblest endowment of the nobler sex. You can sleep whenever you like, and do it without even a suspicion of a snore. It is the very finest form of listening...Mr Sharp rode back to the cottage. Right well he knew what a time ladies take to put their clothes upon them; and the more grow the years of their practice in the art, the longer grow the hours needed.

Kit recovered health quite rapidly, by writing his own dirge in many admirable metres, till, being at length made laureate of a strictly local paper - at a salary of nil per annum, and some quarts of ale to stand - he swung his cloak and lit his pipe in the style of better days...[composing] fugitive pieces, sonnets, stanzas to a left-hand glove, and epitaphs on a cenotaph.

The pigs of Leviticus were divided among all the nephews and nieces, and cousins (ere ever a creditor got a hock-rope or a flick-whip ready), and Tickuss [Leviticus Cripps] himself, unhoused, unstyed, unlarded, and unsmocked, wandered forth with his business gone, like a Gadarene swine-herd void of swine.

In the fire of young days, when herself quite raw, this admirable cook had been "done brown" by a handsome young Methodist preacher. Before she understood what a basting-ladle is, her head was set spinning by his tongue and eyes; he had three wives already, but he put her on the list, took all her money out of her, and went another circuit. The poor girl spent about a year in crying, and then she returned to the Church of England, buried her baby, and became a cook... N.B. Blackmore, a died-in-the-wool conservative, was no fan of non-conformist.

Miss Patch found out, before it was quite too late, that the mission of the "Brotherly-love-abounders", upon the west coast of Africa, had had all their missionaries eaten up, and required a round sum to replace them.

I am now going to look out for other Blackmore tales - Clara Vaughan, Mary Anerley, Christowell, Springhaven and Perlycross  - first editions, if possible (not Lorna Doone as that is prohibitively expensive). Thank you, Richard Doddridge Blackmore for entertaining me over several evenings.

G.P.R. James' 'Henry Masterton' 1832

 

Colburn and Bentley first edition - 1832

I admit it - I enjoy reading G.P.R. James' novels. That probably puts me in a minority, although in the middle decades of the 19th century he was a best-seller, however much the snooty critics might sneer. Why do I like him? It is partly his narrative drive, partly his description of nature and scenery (although he does have a tendency to 'go over the top' and the occasional purple passage makes the reader wince); and partly because he does create genuinely interesting characters. And, in this novel, being a Royalist at heart, I am sympathetic to the hero and his beliefs.

The story is set in the period just after Charles I has been betrayed by the Scots and is imprisoned by the English Parliamentary forces. The hero, Henry Masterton, is the second son of a Royalist who is keeping his head down in deepest Devonshire. The King, typically, had offended both Lord Masterton and his great friend the Earl of Langleigh, the one light, gay, quick, vehement; the other calm, stern, cold, determined. Both oppose the king's increasing use of his prerogative. Langleigh, the 'gay' one, ends up in the Tower but escapes and is presumed lost in a storm in the Channel. Lord Masterton's character is determined thereafter  - the disappointment of his ambition, the humiliation of his pride, the death of his wife, and the loss of his friend, had all more or less contributed to add both gloom and sternness to my father's character...He does, however, stick to a promise to marry his eldest son to Langleigh's daughter Emily. She is now 17 and Frank 19.

The first two volumes are told in the first person by Henry. Although Lord Masterton will not get engaged in any attempt to rescue the king himself, he does give permission for Henry and the elder son, Frank, to take a small force to aid Lord Goring (now Lord Norwich) against the Parliamentarians in Kent. On their way they come across a certain General St Maur and a companion (more of both later) and, then, Walter Dixon, who proves throughout the three volumes to be a rotten apple. Linked to Dixon, appears to be Gabriel Jones, Frank's valet, a nasty, canting Presbyterian type of rascal - in fact, a knave!.  The story is too convoluted (although James manages with some skill to keep his hands firmly on the reins throughout the plotting) to detail in a short Blog such as this and one doesn't want to give too much away either.  

Suffice it to say, Frank and Henry halt on the way to join Goring at Penford-bourne, where the lady of the manor, the Lady Eleanor Fleming, offers them lodgings. Big mistake for Frank, as he goes downhill thereafter. Henry is also spell-bound - never, certainly, did I behold a more beautiful creature than she who stood before us... She and Frank fall head over heels in love (or lust). He fails to go with Henry to meet up with Goring; Henry, in fact, makes a name for himself helping to ward off the Parliamentarians attacking the Royalists. From then on, Henry is the hero, Frank the miscreant. Although, the latter should be marrying Emily Langleigh, he now does not want to; Emily actually loves Henry anyway!  

The  story moves to France and Henry and the reader meet Monsieur le Marquis de Vitray, one of those characters who Scott and James seem to love dragging into their tales. His whole life is spent extolling France and it does wear the reader down having to listen to yet another paean. Only his undoubted kindness saves him from being a total prat! The bad, and the not so good, characters - such as Frank and Eleanor, Dixon and Sir Andrew Fleming - meet deservedly sticky ends; whilst St Maur proves to be the Earl of Langleigh, Emily's father and Henry and Emily end up happily married. Strangely, the first two volumes are written in the first (Henry's) person but, at the end of Volume II, it has a Note Bene. Here endeth the private history of that honourable gentleman, Henry Masterton, as written by his own hand; what followeth being compiled by me, John Woolsanger, A.M., in the year of grace 1675-6, from authentic sources, as shall be shown hereafter, Woolsanger is the rector of Masterton parish. What this allows the author to do, of course, is to relate events which Henry could not possibly have witnessed or known about. What the narrative loses in its immediacy and singularity, it gains in width.

One or two extracts to give the flavour of the book:

I eagerly embarked in the strife; of course, amongst the advocates of change, each of whom was following his own particular purpose exactly as I was following mine: each of whom - covered under what pretence he would - strove for some private and selfish object; either wealth, power, fame, ambition, or, worst of all, fanaticism...We were all selfish alike - we are all selfish alike - we shall be all selfish alike to the end of the world.

Each man who served, or pretended to serve the Monarch, in fact and truth served his own passions, his own interests, and his own prejudices first; and then gave the dregs of his obedience to his master.

A purple passage: There was a sound of wakening through the air too: the matutinal birds, one by one, were bursting into song; and a distant hum told that the busy world of insects had begun their daily labour and delight. The voice of thanksgiving for the bright gift of day, seemed to rise from creation to the gates of Heaven; and every thing, from the diamond dew-drops clustered on the leaves of grass, to the effulgent sky under which they shone, appeared robed in splendour for the morning sacrifice.

Frank Masterton loved Lady Eleanor with undiminished fire: he fancied passion an excuse for vice...

...in the conduct of The Monk he saw nothing but the tortuous and cunning method which the children of the Romish Church pursued to obtain the information of which they were so covetous...

Parliamentarians: a junto of upstarts, amongst whom are some honest and sincere men, some wise and talented ones, some fools, some hypocrites, and many knaves.

On the penultimate page of Volume III, the author wrote: I have mentioned all the persons connected with this history, except him whom we have distinguished by the name of little Ball-o'-fire; but, as his after-fate is treated of in another book, it is not for me to speak of it here. One can only assume James must have written, or be engaged in writing, John Marston Hall, which was published in three volumes by Longman in 1834. I have the first edition and will, of course, look forward to reading it before the month of June is out.